Yellow on the Outside, Shame on the Inside by Anson Chi

Yellow on the Outside, Shame on the Inside by Anson Chi

1

Doctor or lawyer—my only two options. These would be your only two options if you have
Asian parents. You would think that you would be able to pick your own career, since you
know, it is your own damn life. But not when you have Asian parents. So my only two options:
doctor or lawyer. I wonder if my parents even know why I should become a doctor or a lawyer.
Is it because doctors save lives and lawyers protect the innocent? I bet they didn't know that
doctors these days are only trained in surgery and prescribing medicine and pretty much
nothing else; doctors don't know anything about proven alternative medicine, homeopathic
remedies, chiropractic therapy, acupuncture, yet, they make all the big bucks. And they're
treated like gods because they supposedly know it all, even though they haven't cured one
disease since what smallpox? As a matter of fact, heart disease, cancer, diabetes, — even
acne is on the rise and more prevalent than ever before! Shouldn't these reputable,
knowledgeable doctors, with such advanced medical technology, know why there are so many
new diseases such as acid reflux? And why is there nothing being cured today, not the
common cold, not even polio? Maybe it really is all about the money since doctors make big
bucks on the sick and dying but not a penny once you're cured. Because once you're cured,
you're no longer a customer—I mean patient; I guess the medical profession isn't all that
benevolent or caring.
Perhaps I should consider becoming a lawyer; after all, it is my only other choice. I
could go to law school and graduate magna cum laude, then my parents would be really
proud of their only son. Besides, attorneys work really hard to protect the innocent—or do
they? I read in the paper about how a group of lawyers filed motions against DNA testing for
prison inmates sentenced before 1970, because many of them would have been found
innocent, if they were indeed tested. And if they were found innocent, it would obviously be
catastrophic for those insidious lawyers; money over morals, I suppose. Now, I'm not exactly
Mother Theresa or the Dalai Lama, but I'd like to be able to sleep at night knowing that I didn't
put someone innocent in jail for the rest of his or her life. And besides, they do have lawyer
jokes for a reason. My personal favorite: What's the difference between a lawyer and a “
gigolo? A gigolo only screws one person at a time!” Hilarious!
So I guess my parents want me to become a doctor or a lawyer, for completely different
reasons, other than what's important—like saving lives or protecting the innocent from an
unjust, inequitable system; reasons being money and status, which of course, lead to power.
My parents really want my little sister Jordan and me to become doctors—or lawyers if we
couldn't hack it in medical school—just so we can make lots of money and then they can brag
to all of their friends. I really can't think of any other reasons, since third place on the totem
pole of Asian career options is engineering, and there's nothing moral or ethical about being
an engineer; only the paycheck matters, so in the end, it all boils down to money.
So since it's really all about money, I guess I might as well become a prostitute,
because I'll make just as much as any lawyer, and both professions are just as equally
immoral. Plus, I won't have to put up with going to class anymore and I'll save my parents so
much money; it's a win-win situation for everyone. Too bad Asian guys have small you-know-

what, down you-know-where, so prostitution is out of the question. Of course, I'm just joking
about becoming a prostitute, but I really may not be joking if I don't get into medical school.
Between you and me, what I really aspire to be—ever since I was a wee laddie born
and raised in Irvine, California—is a writer. I remember telling Mommy that I wanted to
become a writer, inspired by scores of the greats: Chaucer, Hemingway, Joyce, Faulkner,
Ellison, Orwell, Gaiman, among many, many more. But she gave me a look, with harsh,
derisive eyes, and shouted, "Write? What you write? Bullshit? Stupid boy!"—that pretty much
ended my “never got up and running” career as a writer. 
Well, I guess I'm done with my diatribe. I tend to digress inexorably whenever I have to
sit here at the library waiting for Jordan to get done with her studying and her research. I don't
even know why she uses the UCI (University of California, Irvine) library, since she goes to
Stanford University, for crying out loud. Jordan should stay at Stanford, even on the weekends
and not have me take her around everywhere. Just because I wasn't smart enough to get into
Stanford doesn't mean I have to be her personal chauffeur.
Instead, my little sister decides to come to my school and take up my time. And she
constantly reminds me of how she got a full scholarship to attend Stanford—big deal! It's not
like UCI is deplorable by any means—not that it's all that great either. Everyone knows that it's
the school to settle for if you can't make it to any of the Ivy League schools. And you're always
reminded of how you didn't make it, especially when you drive to UCI on Harvard Avenue,

Yellow on the Outside, Shame on the Inside by Anson Chi