Newsletter 1

So as a homework assignment, we're supposed to write an article about, you know, anything that has stricken (?) our fancy so far in Thailand. All of our articles will be compiled into a newsletter that will be sent to our home universities, families, and study abroad offices all over the nation. Here's my first contribution! Yeah!

What is a Farang?

One Thai American's experience with identity

“What's wrong, nong?”

“Nothing... It's just that... I was expecting to host a farang.”

“But I am a farang!”

“... No you're not.”

“... Oh.”

Roughly translated, this was one of the first exchanges I had with my 14-year old host sister who attends Suan Sanuk Municipal School here in Khon Kaen. In Thai, the word “farang” means “foreigner,” or more specifically, “Westerner.” And apparently, I'm not one.

Since arriving in Thailand, I have noticed that it has been nearly impossible to explain to people what being Thai American means. To give a little background, both of my parents were born in Bangkok, Thailand and moved to a suburb of Asheville, NC in their late 20s/early 30s. There, my older sister and I were born and raised; our parents spoke Thai to us throughout our lives, but we never learned how to speak, read, or write in any language other than English. However, we were both excellent at comprehending spoken Thai. In college, my sister studied Thai throughout her entire undergraduate career at Cornell University, and I informally learned the basics of reading and writing Thai through my fellow members of Northwestern University's Thai Club. Prior to this trip, I had returned to Thailand only once – and that was over ten years ago.

In my experience, this seems to be a pretty typical story shared by many second-generation Asian Americans. But it seems as though Thai people can't really wrap their heads around how my background relates to my poor skills in Thai and physical appearance. So far, I have experienced three different reactions from native Thai people I meet for the first time.

1. Khun du muen kohn gowlee/jean: You look Korean/Chinese. Perhaps it was all those years of sitting in my room playing Pokemon on my Game Boy Color, but apparently I'm far too pale to be perceived as Thai. Especially in Northeastern Thailand, where people tend to have darker skin tones, lighter skin tones with an Asian face are attributed to those from China, Korea, and Japan. So when I tell people that I am indeed Asian, they aren't surprised; however, they believe me to be simply kohn Asia, or an Asian, which is very different from a farang. Yet, if I tell them that I have Thai roots, they generally look shocked and then give me a quick look up-and-down, searching for any evidence of whitening cream-use.

And I only assume that this is the meaning behind their up-down because the next question I occasionally receive is, “What brand of whitening cream do you use?” On billboards, television commercials, and posters in 7-Elevens all over Thailand, whitening creams and powders are advertised. Pale, 20-something women with straight, black hair and huge, perfectly mascaraed eyes are pictured holding tubes of cream that promise to make you look like her; popular male Thai drama stars have their faces plastered on postcard-sized pieces of paper which hang off of shelves carrying the cream in convenience stores; and images and videos of top Korean pop idols performing their catchy songs and revealing as much pale skin as possible have completely saturated the Thai entertainment industry. All of these measures are reinforcements for the age-old concept of beauty for Asians, which I personally disagree with: lighter is better.

Evidently, these lighter skin tones are desirable especially among Thai youth. As part of our first homestay experience with the kids from Suan Sanuk, the group made several visits to the school and spent some quality time with the students there. And even during our first encounter, most of the female students squealed and flocked to the most pale members of our group, asking to take pictures with them. Even though they didn't know who we were or why we were there, they simply wanted photographic evidence that they had made contact with a real-life tall, white farang, or at least someone who seems to physically fit their conception of what a farang is.

2. Khun bpen kohn Thai jingjing: You are truly a Thai person. So, even though I have pale skin, people eventually accept that I have Thai ancestry. However, the American part of my identity seems to be problematic for many. In Thai, I asked many of the kids at Suan Sanuk the reasons why they liked the more pale-skinned members of our group. Many of the girls responded, giggling, that it was because a few members of the group looked like characters from Twilight. But for the most part, students of both genders responded that it was because they were farangs. In broken Thai, I told them that I, too, was a foreigner, a Westerner: I explained that I was born and raised in the US, and Thailand is still somewhat foreign for me. Quite conversely, though, many of the kids laughed at me and said, “No, you're not a farang. You're Thai. Just like us.” I thought that perhaps my language proficiency made me think of me as just Thai, but that brings me to the last reaction from people that I meet for the first time...

3. Tamai khun pood pahsaa Thai mai geng?: Why can't you speak Thai well? From what I gather, it's difficult for people to conceptualize a person who seems to be Thai but can't speak Thai very well. When eating at restaurants with the other people in my group, the waitstaff seemingly always speak to me first, and when I can't construct my responses quick enough, they ask me and confirm that I am, in fact, Thai and then walk away, confused. In this way, I might be seen as a farang. However, when I say that I understand Thai, I seem to have Thai-status again, yet many do not understand how that the ability to understand does not necessarily translate to the ability to speak. For example, my host aunt vocalized in Thai to my host sister that she was absolutely baffled as to why I never picked up how to speak Thai from my parents. However, when she realized that I knew exactly what she had said, she was even more surprised and slightly apologetic. Thus, she introduced me to her friend as, “a Thai from America that came back to study at the university,” which implies that she saw my coming to Thailand as a homecoming, and thus, did not see me as a farang, despite my poor speaking skills.

So, what truly goes into the definition of “farang” here in Thailand? There's more to it than having pale skin and poor language ability. And evidently, it has nothing to do with being Thai American.

The kids were presh.

Just herpin' my derp.