All Images: RICE File Photos

A few days ago, I translated a Zaobao forum letter “No Need For Unnecessary Finger-Pointing During A Pandemic” that quickly went viral. The letter drew much flak for its racist and xenophobic overtures.

In response, the forum editor defended its decision to publish the letter, arguing that it was important not to censor views out of political correctness, particularly if a significant portion of Singaporeans held those views. Donald Low, who had shared my post, similarly said in a Facebook post, “Views in the Zaobao piece reflect mainstream/average opinion in Singapore, which is why I don’t expect significant change in Sg’s treatment of FWs after this.”

His comments made me think about my own experience interacting with my parents. Most things considered, my parents approximate the figure of the “average citizen”, insofar as the “average citizen” exists (it does not). My parents consider themselves “middle-class”. They are not highly-educated: my father only has a PSLE certificate, having failed the examination twice, and dropped out of Secondary 1 to support the family. My mother has an O-Level certificate. Both of them communicate primarily in Chinese or dialect. They consume most of their media through Zaobao, Wanbao, Channel 8, or one of the Chinese radio stations.

When my parents saw the forum letter I had translated, they beckoned me over.

“Look, I think this writer makes a lot of sense,” my mother had told me. Needless to say, I was aggrieved.

My mother was perturbed to see my anger; she was more perturbed still when I (smugly) told her how many others clearly shared my anger, particularly after the post went viral. We fought about it, but I was too tired to fully explain my anger, and I had to leave the house soon for a volunteering shift to pack care packs for the Covid Migrant Support Coalition.

On the car ride there, my father quietly asked me if I had some time to talk to him. He asked me if I could possibly explain to him, patiently, why I had been so angry, for he had not quite understood where I was coming from earlier that morning. He thought the views expressed in the forum seemed reasonable, and wanted to understand what about it had made me so angry, for it was not immediately clear to him.

“I know I might be wrong,” he said carefully, “that’s why I hope you can try and explain to me.”

In my awkward, stumbling Chinese, I explained to him that it was wrong of the author to make generalisations about the migrant worker community based on anecdotal evidence; that the “habits” she had pointed to as responsible for their “poor hygiene” were cultural practices common to many races, not just the predominantly South Asian migrant workers, and that there was a failure to understand the pragmatic limits of maintaining hygiene standards in crowded dormitories.

When I finished, he nodded, telling me that he understood better now, and that he was sorry for his earlier ignorance. He then joked to me, “Maybe you see these things because you go to university.”