Thai vs. Foreigner

While, we’re on the topic of social perceptions…

In this photo: Elana & Daniele

In these two months, I’ve realized that looking “Thai in Thailand” initiates a different social response than looking “foreign in Thailand”. A lot of my friends and a lot of the people I meet look obviously foreign—white and much taller than the average 5’3”. They’re pointed and stared at on a daily basis. They walk passed a group of locals and they always hear, “farang” (sounds like sarong but with an F), meaning foreigner.

I was shopping with two of my girlfriends (who are both white) at the JJ Weekend Market in Bangkok when a girl approaches my friend, she asks, “Can take picture?” I assumed she wanted Danielle to take her picture. No. The girl took a picture of Danielle, said “Thank you”, and walked away.  Weird, yeah?

I, on the other hand, look very local. Again, if I don’t speak, people will assume I’m Thai. When traveling alone, I am often overlooked because I blend. My outward appearance allows me to assume the role as a twenty-three year old Thai girl, which is nice because I feel like I get more of a local experience when I’m out (until I talk).

I fit in, right? And yes, I was on the radio.

But what happens when I’m out with my white girl friends? Nothing really. People still talk to me in Thai and I catch some stares coming my way but it’s nowhere near the number of stares my friends get.

To put a face to the name...this is Ken.

What happens when I’m out with my white guy friends? Let’s think about this for a second. I'm an asian woman, I’m with a white guy, and I’m in a country known for sex tourism.

Yes.

There is a downfall to looking Thai in Thailand: When with white men, I wear the scarlet letter P. I’d like to think my behavior and choices in clothing would be enough to DISqualify me as a woman of the night but…no.

Whenever, I go out with my buddy Paul (English dude teaching Phetchaburi) or even just standing with a white guy, I get so hot from the Cyclops-like laser beams people are shooting at me.

I was thinking that I was just being too presumptuous until…

On Halloween (Yes, it was Halloween. But no, I was not dressed up like floozy), my friends and I went into Bangkok to party on Khao San Road. We had a few drinks and met a couple of cool Canadians.  At one point of the night, it was just me and Ken—laughing, dancing, walking, whatevs. Dudes (as in more than one) would go up to him, with two thumbs up, and say, “Good choice.”

GOOD CHOICE. Seriously?