For the last few years, my life, though comfortable and affluent, has been very boring and lonely. Everyday I go to work, come home, watch TV, read books, and wait for my boyfriend to call me. On weekends and holidays I spent time with my boyfriend at his place. No, we don’t live together because he works in Boston and I work in New York. On the outside I still want my boyfriend to think of me as a very traditional, reserved type of girl, and I had never told him that I used to work as a prostitute in Japan because I feel he simply wouldn’t be able to accept that. It was not actual prostitution and more like escort. I don’t know how to explain it but a lot girls in Japan do it. I have quite a few girlfriends who are now doing porn or nude modeling and sometimes I envy them, because it looks like so much fun. I consider myself a very attractive woman and I feel my beauty is been wasted away if no one appreciates my beauty. But, on the other hand, I don’t want to be like that. There’s this part of my brain that wants me to be traditional, because I grew up in a very broken family and I didn’t like it a bit. I want a stable relationship, a traditional relationship but I guess that has become rarer than endangered species. And there’s this thing about my boyfriend’s always wanting to wear a condom even when I tell him he doesn’t have to wear one. He’s extremely afraid of getting me pregnant. One time I almost blurted out about my past experience as a prostitute; I almost said: “Even when I was working as a prostitute in Japan my customers didn’t wear condoms.” I didn’t really say that but I felt the words were at the back of my throat. Not using a condom feels a lot more natural and more comfortable. My sex life with my boyfriend isn’t even better than when I was a prostitute. I kept on calling myself a prostitute because I don’t know what the exact English word is for what I did. It’s actually not considered prostitution in Japan and though it can lead to sex. A lot Japanese girls do it and it’s really not that big a deal.
And then there’s the fact that I simply hided a lot things from him. He never knew I had a sister who committed suicide when I was a teenager. If I told him that, again, I just don’t know how he would react. Maybe he would think I need to see a psychologist. I feel the problem is really cultural, because so many people commit suicide in Japan it’s really not that uncommon to find a relative hang dead inside a closet or from a ceiling. When I say in English, it sounds so strange.
I mean, he is very keen on asian culture, but what he understands as asian culture is really like Chinese food in America; his understanding of asian culture, or Japanese culture for that matter, is his Americanized, abridged version of asian culture and so he doesn’t really understand me. I see a lot of interracial couples in New York but I actually don’t know any of them personally and I don’t really know how they deal with cultural issues. Sometimes I have this sneaky suspicion that a lot of them are mentally ill because they actually seem to resent one another and their relationship is based more on hatred than love. My relationship with my boyfriend is more sincere, I feel, because we are both highly educated and we are about the same age. Well he is actually ten years older than me but that’s really not that much an age difference. It’s probably the first time I have spoken seriously on my personal relationship for a long time because I have been feeling really terrible for the entire last year. My mom kept on harassing me, calling me and telling me that I should marry a white man and I am really starting to resent her attitude. So she thinks she can decide who I should date. Maybe I will date a black man just to piss her off. Though I am definitely never ever going to date an asian man. And I was just kidding about dating black man.
The reason I only date white men is partially because of my dad: because my dad knows what it means to be white and he really wants me to be with a white man. He says that that is the only way I will ever be accepted into the American society. He really loved me and he said the only way I will ever become an American is by dating a white guy. He was once a student at an American college and he told me he knew what it’s like being asian in America and he doesn’t want me to have that experience, and the only way that I am guaranteed a comfortable life is to date a white man. And he told me to never ever date any asian man in America: no Korean, Japanese, Chinese, none of them. He said those asian men in American are unheimlich freaks. They might look asian on the outside, but they have no idea what being asian even means, because to us, Japanese, the word asian doesn’t mean anything. It’s an invention, by the Americans. No Japanese would ever go out one day and call herself an asian. It’s just an invention, by those stupid Americans. My dad really loved me and he told me I must only date white men “so you can bear wimpish children for them and they will become weak and slavish, and only then the Japanese have a fighting chance to revenge against the Americans.” It was, he said, the grand strategy of Japan. And I must learn to not only humble, but to humiliate, myself before Americans, so they can become arrogant and self-satisfied. That’s really what my dad told me. I don’t know if it sounds absurd but that’s what he said. Well, in addition to his advice, I have my own reasons for only dating White men.
On the other hand, I have always resented my mother. I feel all my problems were caused by her. She ruined my life and she killed my sister and just recently she brought into the world yet another baby girl with her new husband and I am so ascertain that she is going to kill her as well.
Sometimes I just wished I had a really close friend with whom I can share the most sordid details of my life and tell him or her—most likely a him because I don’t trust girls, girls gossip too much—all the secrets I have been hiding under my bed. The cruel fact of the matter is:—I don’t have any friend. I have mere acquaintances, girls who I go out with once in a month, colleagues whom I see in the hallway and I nod and smile and pass them by, friends on facebook that I haven’t talked to in five years or more. I don’t really have any friend except for my boyfriend, and I am so lonely. Sometimes I wish I can have a friend with whom I can get drunk and tell him or her “god I really hate Chinese people” or “those niggers are so ugly.” I feel so repressed I wish I can speak freely.
Although I am half-Chinese myself, I can tell you very honestly that I don’t really like Chinese people. I like Japanese a lot better than Chinese. Maybe it has to do with my dad. Here’s the thing about my dad. My dad is really not a bad person. He is always so gentle to me, and he has been very loving to me ever since I was a little girl. I know what he did to my mom but, and I know you wouldn’t believe me if I say it, my mom was playing the victim card, has been and still is playing the victim card. The entire Chines race has been playing the victim card and they are so arrogant and really just stupid. If anything, my dad is the victim. She knew full well how sadistic my father was and she was fully consensual in all that happened to her. She just wanted my dad’s money. That was all she wanted. And yet she brought me into this world, and she thinks I can be her money whore as well. She thinks I can bring her status in front of her relatives because I am mixed blood and I looked white-ish but in private she is so cruel to me. She never loved me. My dad, on the other hand, really loved me.
Chinese in general are evil and extremely arrogant. That’s what my life experience tells me, through my personal experience with them in America, in China, and in Japan.
At work I never tell anyone about my Chinese heritage. I only use my father’s last name so everyone only knows that I am Japanese and sometimes I get mistaken for being Russian or European.
There’s this really funny thing about my boyfriend is that he’s completely smooth everywhere. It doesn’t turn me on at all. I can’t bear a man having no body hair but he loves it! It’s disgusting to me but he loves it. And he loves anal sex which I am just not that fond of. I love bondage and I let him tie me up but he doesn’t seem that interested. And there’s really no intensity to it. The whole thing seems so fake. I am not really kidnapped or being tied up like a sex slave. It’s all make-belief like little kids playing silly games. There is no real excitement in my life and there’s no romance, no knights charging castles, no damsels in distress, no human-devouring monsters. There is just the dull throbbing numbing pain in your ass like after your boyfriend forced you to have anal sex.
Which is another thing I don’t get about Americans. Why do they like anal sex so much? Everyone seems obsessed with anal sex. Why did God give a woman the vagina if you are not going to use it? I mean, I am okay with anal sex, but I never really understood why.
So we have been together for three years now and he is still not telling me when we are going to get married. He absolutely loves Japanese women and he really loves me as well. His father is re-married to a Japanese woman and he said his father told him that marrying a Japanese woman is the best thing in the world. And he shows me off to all his friends, relatives, and coworkers, telling them how lucky he is, how beautiful I am, and how wonderful I am in bed. Even though I never enjoyed any of the sexual acts he did to me, I always did everything he asked me to and I thought I faked my orgasms pretty well. I never even complained when he went on business trips to Asia and I knew he was cheating on me with other asian women but I never even cared because those asian women are probably not as pretty as I am. He always lies to me telling me that he’s been completely royal to me but I know when he lies. I just choose to pretend to believe him. And he doesn’t know any of my secrets. He doesn’t know about my family history. He thinks I am a very traditional pure bred Japanese woman.
So I am just wondering when the engagement is going to come.
Author: jennifer suzuki
I have been a very confused—some might say very conflicted—girl ever since I can remember and I have always lived in a fantasy world of my own making.
I was born in Japan, my mother is Chinese and my father is Japanese, and my father's mother or my grandmother was German Dutch, and I came to the United States as a teenager and lived and went to school in Maryland, and worked in New York.
I lived in fantasy worlds since I was a teenager and I have always done so, sometimes so deep in my own fantasy I forgot my own identity. I no longer knew who I am. Physically I look more European than asian. My father is of mixed heritage—he has white blond hair, but he also has some distinctly Japanese features. On the other hand my features mostly resembled my grandmother, who was a full blooded European woman. Which was not something that really bothered me. Actually most modern Japanese look very European compared to the rest of asians.
My father was a sadist, and my mother, on the other hand, was, in my opinion, a masochist with no self respect. Growing up, seeing my father beating my mother was almost as frequent as having dinner, and when not beating her, she was constantly being humiliated and degraded, like having to serve dinner to him naked on her knees or being tied to an utility pole only in her panties during the winter. At first I believed my mother was a victim, a unfortunate human being in the hands of a cruel evil man, but as I grew older I realized that it was my mother who enjoyed being treated this way. The initial realization made me feel she was a disgusting, perverted, sick person, but as I grew older I began to have the almost identical sexual fantasies that my mother lived and experienced through. I began to think that my mother was the luckiest woman on earth since apparently she had found a man who understood her desires and could give them to her.
My dad studied and worked in America before, and during that period he desperately wanted to marry a white woman, and vehemently pursued several white women, but was unsuccessful. At the same time Japanese women were unwilling to marry him. Maybe because just like him they were looking to marry into the white race, or maybe because he had sadistic tendencies. Out of options he settled to look for a Chinese woman. Statistically, marriages between Chinese women and Japanese men have been quite common, and I personally knew quite a few couples just like my mother and father. Even here in America I knew several Chinese women who had Japanese boyfriends and those women were actually quite proud of having superior Japanese men as boyfriends. Japanese in general look much more European compared to other asians and I suspect it was the putative European appearance that attracts other asian women. Of course Japanese are not Europeans, no matter how much we try to become European, just as Jews will never be fully accepted as White Christians. I think Jews and Japanese have a lot in common. We were both persecuted by Europeans, the Jews by Germans, and Japanese by Americans, yet we both come to love our white Masters. Jews weren't officially considered white until very recently, and I think as time progresses eventually Japanese will be categorized as white in the future, though Jews and Japanese will always know that they are still inferior to their Nordic Masters. But as always the Jews will be Masters over the Arabs and the Japanese will be Masters over the rest of Asia. There is no other meaning to life, other than the degree of domination.
I had an older sister who looked fully asian, as opposed to me who looked much more European. And ever since childhood I have always known for a fact that I was treated better by everyone else because of my distinctly European appearance. In school classmates would be hesitant to tease me because they always thought my father might be an American or an European man even though they knew my mother was Chinese but somehow they still were afraid of me solely because of my European appearance. The thing was that in Japanese naming system, my mother's last name automatically gets attached to mine, so for example, my name in Japanese would actually be "Suzuki Liu Jennifer", because my mother's maiden name is Liu; this way everyone would instantly know my mother is Chinese. On the other hand my sister was bullied almost everyday by upper classmates because she looked very Chinese. They made fun of her hair and clothes and told her that she looked like a Chinese pig and I had seen boys pulling down her pants and laughing at her for having a "Chinese vagina". I was a very young girl back then and I felt ashamed of having her as a sister so in school I didn't talk to her at all. When I was 12 years old, she committed suicide by hanging herself in her closet. I know this because I was the one who discovered her body. My parents would have never told me about her death if I did not saw her dead body by myself. And ever since her death a dark cloud formed over my head and throughout my teenager years I was constantly harrowed by thoughts of suicide. It was not until I was much older that I learned suicide is infectious and that had been why I was constantly thinking about suicide. The realization made me try not to think too much about death, but no matter how much I try I can never get her image out of my head. Sometimes I feel she still haunts me because I didn't talk to her in school.
My parents divorced when I was 14 and I went to live with my mom in China for two years. Contrary to popular beliefs, I had never experienced any form of racism or discrimination against me when I was living in China. Most people assumed that I was an European girl and the aura of being European seemed to make me inapproachable, like the shield of Athena covering me from head to toe. Even when I was in school, when classmates would know my father was Japanese because of my last name, I had never really felt any discrimination, though I did feel they were kind of afraid of me. I had never realized how much being White meant until I was in America: the symbol of power, domination, and superiority that being White implies. Being White is being the entelechy of all that is beautiful, good and righteous. Which is strange because my nationality still is, in actuality, Japanese and as I grew older I started to look more asian. My hair has gotten completely dark and my looks started to resemble my mother's. I used to have very light-colored hair, but I just felt fortunate that I do not look fully asian like my sister was.
When I saw this image [of a naked asian woman kneeling next to a black furred dog] in a Japanese SM magazine a few days ago, all of a sudden I remembered seeing my mother in a similar position when I was maybe just 5 or 6 years old. It was not a pleasant experience; it was an extremely scary and traumatic experience, and growing up I heard constant moaning and muffled screams coming from my parents' bedroom. Every evening was a nightmare to fall asleep. But knowing that many asian women were treated the same way as my mother had been treated somehow made me feel better about my own family. At least my parents were not as weird as they seemed, and while growing up I had gradually come to realize that many asian girls have the same masochistic tendencies as I do, but many were just very shy and wouldn't admit their secrets. So it seems there are many masochistic asian women out there who thrives on been humiliated and degraded just like the girl in this image; I don't know why but this image made me feel kind of normal. I have lived in the States for nearly ten years now and I have not talked to my parents, who had divorced, for several years, especially to my mother whom I had some very severe arguments with over the years, especially when she remarried after she went back to China. I was more fond of my father though I haven't really talked to him that much either because he too had remarried. Despite all the mean things I had said about my dad, he was always very gentle with me and never beat me. He beat my sister and my mother but never me and I suspect he was much more gentle with me because of my more European looks. I felt their divorce was a punishment for me, as if they had abandoned me and I never felt comfortable with either of them or their new spouses, whether it be in China or in Japan. My mother's new husband was a very cruel and domineering white man living in China and he never treated me with the same special treatment I received from my dad. And I remember one time when I went out with him people on the street mistook me for his wife and I felt so disgusted I never wanted to go out with him again and then he would yell at me and yell at my mom. I am glad to have gotten out of there. And my dad ... well let's just say I couldn't bear to coexist with his new wife either. The last time we talked was already 3 years ago. This image had brought back so many long forgotten yearnings.
I miss my sister and my parents.
The memory of my sister and my parents started to fade away, like wavering forms they passed before my clouded sight; their images have become a blur rise about me out of mist and cloud; their faces, and their figures have become shades of phantoms; I wanted to hold you close to me in that blessed fleeting moment when you reappeared to me in my dreams. If only I possessed the strength to draw you near. I wanted to forever remember you—you bear the images of happy days; your airy smiles still stir youthful tremors in my breast—but my memory faltered. It would have been simpler if I were already dead. I would never be seized again by those long forgotten yearnings. I shuddered at those thoughts; and a tear draws other tears.
Crying is my only form of release; through crying I am channeled to the solemn and silent world of spirits; crying is my whispered prayer that lingers in a vagrant tone. I have no one to talk to. I live in solitary confinement. I have been driven to madness even though physically I stay put.
My life—full of dolor, pain and suffering. Sometimes I wish I could end it. The only reason I continue to live is for otherwise I lack the courage to carry out that final act, to take me beyond and step into the unknown. It is so much better to have been never born at all, or at least to die an immediate death. How sweet and wonderful death would be. My dear Aya, I am so very sorry! A vast space of nothingness in the empty universe fills my heart. Everyday of my life I live in terror because of you.
A family dog
Growing up, I always felt lonely. My family dog was my only companion. He was a slightly larger than a medium sized dog, with grey and dark fur, and a nozzle that resembled a wolf. He was so cute, so adorable, and he was my only friend. I often played with him in my desperate attempts to communicate with another living being, like Madame Bovary sitting by her fire place in a melancholic longing for escape. I want out!, out of this nonchalant prison of thoughts, out of this cruel alienated society, out of these mind forged manacles whose clanking I hear like looming madness; the marks of domestication on their faces, marks of psychological slavery, marks of intellectual death; they are mere automatons, inanimate objects, so lifeless like straw men, hollow men, stuffed men. I can't bare to look at those miserable beings' faces. In a domesticated dog I see more humanity than the entire humanity. If only my family dog can take me away! And I will elope with him to a happy place, where there is no more sorrow, no more dread, no more cold metallic prison walls of the mind.
My family dog was my only friend, and he was my only confidante. To him I entrusted all my deepest secrets. Sometimes I wished I was a dog: no more worries, no more sadness, no more consciousness, no more thoughts, just the need to satisfy my most basic instincts, lying by my owner's feet, worshiping him and completely dependent on him.
Sometimes I wish I could have another dog just like the family dog I used to have in Japan. And he will be my husband. I will belong to him. I will be his bitch. I will obey him, crawl under his belly, gently caress his furs with my soft hands, and please him like I would please my husband. And he will be my beast and I will be his beauty. Albeit he will be a gentle beast, always so obedient to me, and yet always so much more aggressive, and animalistic; he will protect me from harm, with his sharp fangs and naturally endowed muscles for chasing down his prey; and yet he will honor me and obey me like a lover would. He will never be jealous, never be angry, as long as he is fed and watered. He will be my best friend.
View all posts by jennifer suzuki
One thought on “It’s been three years and there’s still no word of engagement”
“god I really hate Chinese people” i used to say exactly the same thing before i lived in here in Germany and “those niggers are so ugly.” “exactly ” All the ugly Monkey Refugee Niggers from Africa invaded Germany and everybody started overreacting with the Political Corectness now even the word ” NEGER ” meaning Negro is has become a huge Racial-Issue its not aloud anywhere , back in the Late 90s when i Married my Former Husband who Unfortunetely passed away Years ago it was normal to talk about NIGGERS or even call Niggers walking the Streets NIGGER SLAVE MONKEY and Niggroes who we saw back then used to get bullied by us or others because everyone loved to make Niggers do funny shit like lick the soles of their Shoes clean or Kiss the Feets . I made this Niggerboy ” from my Daughters Class that used to hit on her everyday in the breaktimes” infront of my all her Daughters Classmates and even 2 of her Female Teachers bow on his knees then kiss my Feets and my then my Daughter and all the Classmates made him kiss their Feets too after that day and followed my Teachings to always call him and say NIGGER even with her female Teachers watching agreeing with me laughing . Not even my Daughters wanna talk about Niggers these days as if they were Human people like the rest of the world and never had been Slaves treated like pets like the Houseiggners the Niggroes are only good as Pet-Chimpanzees and should lick our and yours Feets clean every day AS ASIAN WOMAN IM NOT THE NIGGER OF THE WORLD THATS THE NIGGER UGLY WOMANS JOB TO LICK OUR FEETS AS FOOTSTOOL OF THE WORLD i would like contact to somebody like you anonymis and private sharing the same type of views stories and humor on Niggers and other Subhuman Species please contact me for personal Phone skype WhatsApp and so on Neggerkaufen@gmx.de