Infatuation at Young Age

Dylan didn't understand what drew her to white boys.

Maybe it was because of the white faces across the television screen she sat across from since the age of 9.

Or how most of the boys in her class since kindergarten were white.

Or how the male influencers and celebrities she encountered on her Instagram Home Page looked the same: broad-shouldered, 6'3 and - you guessed it: white. 

Dylan grew up in a white world. This world slowly warped her perception of what was enough: 

- The way she looked.

- The way she talked.

- What she wore.

- The movies and books she consumed.

Most importantly, how she saw herself.

For the longest time, Dylan looked in the mirror and saw exactly what those boys wanted:

Skinny. She stopped eating breakfast and counted her macros and went for a 5K run every morning.

Tall. She wore  heels to class, the mall and any social outing.

White. She avoided the sun, always carrying a hat or umbrella.

A girl who wasn't afraid to eat a burger and made sure it went to her butt, not her thighs. High-waisted jeans were the ticket to Slim-thick City.

A girl who filled a C-cup but covered her chest enough to show a small hint of what was inside. Push up bras.

A girl that never left the house without makeup. Her contour elongated her nose and made her jaw slimmer.

A girl who regularly watched sports. She studied the Premier League and prerecorded games to memorize scores and players.

Dylan subconsciously developed into a product of male fantasy.

But for some reason, Dylan never felt she fit into this perfect template.

"It's because you're not white."

Dylan snapped out her long admiring gaze at the men's hurling team and whipped her head around. "What did you say?" asked Dylan. 

Aoife gently smacked the back of her notebook across Dylan's shoulder. "I said, it's because you're not white."

Her words stung Dylan and she even shrunk back at the truth. "I know. I'm proud to be Chinese," she replied. Her voice at the end of her sentence grew weak, and Aoife rolled her eyes.

"Ah look, Dylan lying again. We love to see it. Your next experience article should be 'Living in a White World: An Asian Girl's Guide To Thriving as a Minority."

Dylan and Aoife were both writers for HerCampus, the online college magazine that brought the two girls together in first year.

Dylan only ever talked to Aoife about her insecurities as a coloured girl because, well, Aoife knew what it was like to feel like a token BIPOC in a white-dominant school. 

BIPOC: (Black/Indigenous/Person of Colour) 

Aoife was the only Filipino-Irish mixed woman in the HerCampus Society. She grew up Ireland before moving to Canada for university. The girls freaked over their love for all music except country and bonded over cultural similarities.

"I'm a work in progress, okay?" Dylan explained and found her gaze falling back to the field of men. It was Dylan's turn to pick a 'studying' spot after class and of course - she always picked the bleachers that looked down on the men sports' practices.

"I think your obsession with the white male specimen is becoming highly toxic and is getting old," Aoife whined. She sipped at her reusable metal straw from her ceramic Starbucks cup. 

Dylan half laughed at her friend's comment and shot back, "Yes, maybe I should just make an expose of all the white boys at our school. 'Living in a White World: Asian Girl Exposes White Men Fetishes with Coloured Female Students."

Aoife choked on her water and began a coughing fit. "Wow, girl. Controversial headline. Stir the pot why don't you."

She rolled her eyes and nodded towards the boys on the field. "At least one of those boys on the team have Yellow Fever. Hell, if I took any of their phones and peeked at the team group chat, one of them absolutely referred to us as 'exotic'." 

Aoife gave Dylan a skeptical look and slipped a small glance at the boy group. "The sick thing is that even though you admit Yellow Fever is even a possibility, you still would melt like a puddle if any one of them asked you to fu-"

"I am a victim of my insecurities!" Dylan exclaimed, raising her hands in defence. 

"And what are you going to do about it?" Aoife interjected. 

"Maybe I will write that article," her friend mumbled back and dropped her gaze to the bench she was sitting on. Race was a particular conversation Aoife and Dylan shared, however, Dylan always felt a pinch of jealousy towards Aoife's mixed ethnicity. Just because Aoife was half white, Dylan couldn't help but assume more eyes of admiration landed on her friend instead of her.

Aoife put her drink down and looked Dylan straight in the eye. "Well I think you should. It's your final year of university. Mind as well write a scandalous article for the magazine. Leave your mark before you start adulting."

"And how would I even start this scandalous article?" Dylan's gaze drifted towards the boys again. Although the paleness of their skin brought out the redness of their sweaty cheeks and necks, Dylan's stomach dropped at the sight of their toned arms and broad shoulders.

"This is like watching you drool over vampires," said Aoife. 

"If you really think writing an article about white men is going to help me feel less insecure, I can't wait to hear more brilliant ideas out of that smart mouth of yours."

Aoife shrugged and stirred her straw around. "It's just an idea, Dylan. Maybe it'll get you to start thinking about why you have such an obsession with the male desire and how it deeply ties to your self-worth."

Heat travelled up Dylan's ears and she couldn't tell if it was the embarrassment or upset feeling towards Aoife.  

"I'm serious," Aoife continued. "This article may help other girls to start having that serious conversation with themselves about their own self-worth."

Dylan's confused emotion grew as she understood what Aoife was getting at but also didn't appreciate the small micro-aggressive comments about her love life. 

"Watch out!" a male voice screamed. 

The girls looked up and a hurling ball came straight for Dylan's face. She yanked her backpack in front of her face to protect herself and the impact of the ball sent her flying backwards, her spine hitting the higher bench seat above her.

"Fucking hell," Dylan screeched, pain spiking up her back. She dropped her bag in shock and the ball fell off her lap and rolled onto the bench below her.

One of the players jogged over and waved his hurling stick towards the girls. "Hey, China! Can you throw that back?!" he shouted.

Aoife's eyes widened and she turned to Dylan who's face was raging at the racist comment. No one could register how fast Dylan moved as she picked up the ball and whipped it back at the guy with full force. 

It smacked into the bridge of his nose and Aoife gasped as he stumbled back in shock and then agony flashed across his face. He swore and cupped his face, his stick dropping onto the grass. 

Aoife made a low impressed whistle. "That was a class shot, Dylan."

The hurling team on the other end of the field stopped mid-practice and only started to notice one of their players crumple to the ground. They rushed over, and Aoife immediately grabbed Dylan's bag. "And that's our cue to leave."

Dylan followed grabbed Aoife's notebook and the two rushed down the bleachers just as the boys began to circle around the hurt player. All their eyes were averted to their friend except for one boy who watched the girls flee the area.

Just as Dylan jumped off the last bench, she looked up and the two made eye contact.

His brows furrowed as he looked to be guessing why they were running and before Dylan could look away, his eyes widened in shock.  "Dylan?!" he said aloud.

Dylan's whole body heated up in panic. 

"Let's go! No one saw!" Aoife hissed and started running, her long legs inherited by her father giving her a good head start. 

Dylan couldn't stop looking away from the boy that said her name. 

Aoife took a few steps back to grab Dylan by her jacket. Aoife repeated, "Let's go before anyone sees!"

But someone did.

And Dylan and that boy both knew.

Dylan stumbled forward from Aoife's sudden yank. She ripped her eyes away from the boy and rushed behind the bleachers with her best friend.

Just as they got around the corner, the same male voice yelled, "Hey, Dylan!" 

She turned her head behind her shoulder and the boy she made eye contact with began to chase her down.