How to date a brownie, puti, hapa or hapon

Junot Diaz is bad. I mean emm-effin' bad. His first book, Drown (Hanging Loose Press, 1996), received off the chart praises. Over a decade later, his second book, Pulitzer-prize winning novel The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (Riverhead Books, 2007), secures his place in literary history. He's a really good fiction teacher, too. Obsessed with structure. Prolific reader. Book smart nerd and street smart badass to the max. Down home for real genuine with the peeps. He is lovely.

One day I tried to write a story story in imitation his story, "How to date a Browngirl, Blackgirl, Whitegirl, or Halfie." I had actually started the story in 2007 after taking a fiction workshop with him at VONA, but it never got very far. So, for a class assignment this semester at UH, I tried to write a poem on the topic of dating various ethnic groups. I figured in Hawaii we have much variety--black, brown, yellow, red, green, purple, off the boat, off the plane, on the beach, in the hotel, in the next state government office cubicle, in front of you at McCully Zippys, etc.

But it didn't work out. So I tried another track and thought it would be interesting to would write a poem about dating a hierarchy of Filipino males. The mama's boy, the love America always guy, the Flip dude revolutionary, the wanna be Hawaiian/Spanish/Chinese but not weirdo, the hapa Adonis, the brown outside white inside coconut New Yorker. But I couldn't get the poem to go beyond boring. So, in order to entertain myself, I took Junot's short story and played with transforming it into verse. It's a mangled sestina wanna be something. Here's what happened:

How to date a Browngirl, Blackgirl, Whitegirl, or Halfie

Tell your mom you’re sick and don’t feel good

and can’t go with them to Union City

to visit your Tia Cora who likes to squeeze

your nuts and say “he’s gotten big!”

When they all leave, take another shower.

Comb down the kinks, use your dad’s cologne.

Wait for your date on the plastic covered sofa.

Hide the slab of government cheese

where your date will never see it.

Wait for your date on the plastic covered sofa.

If she’s a halfie, don’t be surprised if her mom’s white

and wants to meet you, to see if you scare her.

If she’s a browngirl, take her to El Cibao for dinner

and order in your busted up Spanish. Let her correct you

if she’s Latina; if she’s not, she will be amazed.

Take her back to your place , get serious, be alert.

If she’s an out-of-towner blackgirl, she grew up with ballet.

If she’s a Park Hill whitegirl, she’s the one you really want.

Take her back to your place, get serious, be alert.

If she’s a Park Hill whitegirl, tell her that you love her hair

her skin, her lips, because in truth you love them more

than you love your own. “I like Spanish guys” she’ll say

and even though you’ve never been to Spain,

you’ll say, “I like you.” You’ll sound smooth.

Usually it won’t work this way, so be prepared.

If she’s a halfie, she’ll say black people treat me real bad

that’s why I don’t like them. You’ll wonder how she feels

about Dominicans but don’t ask her.

Usually it won’t work this way, so be prepared.

After she leaves, watch all the tv you want,

all the shows you like, without comments,

interruptions, or competition for the remote.

Lie down on the plastic covered sofa and remember

how her skin felt and hope she tells you hi at school.

Take the cheese from the cabinet high above the oven.

Put it back in the fridge behind the milk

before your mom finds it and kicks your ass.