TheThai-brid Blind Sexagenarian
How a Low Vision Bi-Racial Elder Won’t Go Without a Fight
My parents did something nobody else did in 1960. They got married even though there were miscegenation laws in place at the time that prohibited people of different races from marrying one another and making mutt babies like me. “Charlie” and Joann were a scandalous pairing in the small Texas town where they lived, and I was a social pariah throughout most of my school years because of it. I was the only brown face in a sea of white. My parents failed to explain what racism against Asian people really looked like when it raised its ugly head in Amarillo, Texas.
I was in my twenties before I was able to decipher what exactly had happened in my social connections through the years and stamp it with what it was.
One of the blinking neon lights that separated me from the others was my name. Prajinta Sthapitanonda was always and without exception, butchered. And to make matters worse, there was no attempt to ever get it right. Most Asians create a one-syllable “American” name. Maybe a “white” name would be more appropriate since I was an American holding dual citizenship. So names…
