1 The Student Who Got Expelled by USC (1/2)

”Don't worry, I'm fine. Please, Mom, the weather in Los Angeles is just like San Francisco. You know that. Why would I be cold?” Wang Yang held the handset close to his face and leaned on the payphone booth as he admired the scenery at the campus. ”I just met Robert Zemeckis a few days ago. That's right! The director of Forrest Gump. He's a USC alumnus, and our dean invited him over for a lecture. It's great. We chatted for hours. Yep, and down-to-Earth, too. He's such a nice guy…”

It was sunny April in Los Angeles, and the weather was incredibly inviting. A spell of freezing rain had just passed, gradually giving way to the boisterous warmth of summer. Young students dotted the lush, green lawn at the USC School of Cinematic Arts, lounging, reading, and chit-chatting among themselves. A few could be seen tinkering with their DV camcorders. The air was filled with youth, optimism, and promise.

”Uh-huh. I'm going to volunteer with a film crew later… Oops, speak of the devil. My friends are asking me to go now. Got to hang up now, bye!”

Wang Yang put away the handset and let out a long sigh. His perky, cheerful face had abruptly deflated. As he peered at the lawn and all the students frolicking on it without a care in the world, he couldn't help but pull his hair out in anguish. ”D*mn it!” he said bitterly.

He fastened his windbreaker, picked up a cardboard box filled with miscellaneous belongings, and began his long, painful departure from the campus. He counted his steps, taking frequent, longing glances at the beautiful campus. The USC School of Cinematic Arts was supposed to be the launching pad for his dream. But now, his dream had been ruined.

Wang Yang was Chinese. His grandfather had set foot in America many years ago, where he made a living by setting up a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco's Chinatown. The restaurant was passed down to his father, who operated it until today. However, after two generations of hard work, the ”family business” saw hardly any growth. Instead, business declined and was scraping by with the patronage of a few old neighbors and regulars. For many years, the shop had teetered on the brink of closing.

Although Wang Yang had grown up in a restaurant, he had no interest in cooking. Instead, his passion lay in films. When he was nine years old, he watched Cinema Paradiso, the film which cemented his ambition. He was going to become a director! Though, at the time, his idea of a ”director” was someone who worked the projectors like old Alfredo.

Nevertheless, he stayed true to his ambition and worked steadily toward his goal. And at the tender age of 18, he'd done it. He'd finally been admitted into the USC School of Cinematic Arts as a film and television production major. It seemed everything had panned out as he'd hoped, and success was within his grasp… if it weren't for that incident.

The incident happened a week ago, and he was expelled as a result. In the second semester of his first year in college, he was gone.

Whenever he recounted the incident, Wang Yang would sigh resignedly and feel his head throb painfully. He was going to complete his bachelor's degree in USC, get a master's, find a job as an assistant director, learn the ropes, and take on the mantle of a director when the opportunity presented itself. But, with his untimely dismissal from school, becoming a director had all but became a pipe dream.

”Well, well, well, if it isn't our favorite chink. Where are you going in such a hurry?” A few youngsters approached him from the lawn. There were four guys and two girls. Apart from a black male, the rest were Caucasian. The blonde, white male, who looked to be the leader of the pack, was grinning mischievously. He postured himself like a monkey with its arms extended and started dancing and squeaking in a clowny voice. ”Ping pang, ping pang? Ching chong, ching chong?”

His playful antics caused the rest of the gang to crack up in laughter. As they glanced at Wang Yang, he could see the scorn and disdain on their laughing faces.

Although Wang Yang was American, he'd become accustomed to such derogatory behavior ever since he was little. Nevertheless, he took pride in his yellow skin and dark eyes. He appreciated his Chinese heritage. He loved the language, the food, and the culture. He'd never looked down on other people, and he never took kindly to racial discrimination. Ironically, that was the very reason he was expelled--racial discrimination.

He'd been wronged. The incident started not unlike his current predicament when a group of black students taunted and teased him. Profanities were exchanged, and patience was tested. In the heat of the moment, he snapped and hit him.

The black student's name was Terrance Ben.

He had the build of a bear, but Wang Yang had been taking Bajiquan lessons from an old master in Chinatown. He wouldn't call himself an expert, but his skills were more than enough to butt through Terrance's brute force. ”Is this what you want? F*ck you!” Wang Yang cursed at Terrance, who had been defeated and was laying on the ground.

Unfortunately, his ”F*ck you!” was overheard by a professor, who'd been tipped off and was just arriving at the scene. The professor was black, and his name was Gary Martin.

After the incident, despite being the instigator, Terrance pointed the finger at Wang Yang instead and accused him of using racial slurs before assaulting him. Wang Yang tried desperately to bring truth to light, but to no avail. Without any witnesses at the lawn at the time to verify his claims, Wang Yang's words held little water. On the other hand, Terrance had the full support of his fellow African-American, Professor Martin. The university sided with Terrance Ben and expelled Wang Yang.

The funny thing was, no one stood up for him when he was surrounded by a group of people and being discriminated against for being Chinese.

”Hey Bruce Lee, what do you want? A banana? Here, come and get it!” teased the blonde Caucasian, Matthew, as he did a mock kung-fu pose. ”Come on, I know you want it!” he said gleefully.

The other five youngsters broke out in laughter. They knew about Wang Yang's expulsion and wanted to rub salt on his wounds. It wasn't as if Wang Yang had provoked them. It was the color of his skin that made him the object of ridicule among the ignorant.

Calling a black man a n*gger would invariably be judged as racial discrimination in the court of law, but calling a Chinese person a chink or a chinaman seldom warranted similar attention. Such was the ugly side of the society which prided itself on democracy and equality.