Sunday Night, December 5: Chinatown

Boston's Chinatown is small--eight square blocks--and quiet. The only testament to its presence is a large marble gate straddling Beach Street. From South Station, the arch announces Chinatown. Through the arch, the Rainbow Restaurant is one block down on Beach Street. The Rainbow is a Vietnamese and Chinese restaurant and it serves cheap, good food. A Chinese family that immigrated to Boston from Vietnam runs the restaurant.

The family has six children. The youngest three were born in the United States. The oldest three--two men and a woman--are 21, 22, and 24. One brother works at the Rainbow in the mornings, and the other is an engineering major at Boston University.

Corrina's accent is strong and she speaks in excited fast sentences that lurch from place to place. Now she is the oldest; her older brother was killed this summer in a motorcycle accident. She works full-time at the Rainbow, sometimes thirteen hours a day. Sometimes she complains that her brothers are free to do what they want while she is expected to work. Typical of Asian immigrant families, she says.

Corrina thinks her older brother was hit by a drunk-driver. She is angry that the police will not investigate. She does not cry very often, but she still gets frustrated thinking about her brother's death. "We have it good now," she says.

After Vietnam, Corrina's family lived in Malaysia. Then they moved to the United States. On the ship from Malaysia to America, Corrina saw girls get raped and killed. "Sometimes there is a lot of shame in a family when a girl gets raped. Sometimes the family will throw her overboard. So many people die on the boat, sickness or no food or too young. So many people die.

"Now here we have job, he have restaurant, we eat, we have family. My brother's going to college now. Not like in Vietnam, where the whole country is so poor. Not like Malaysia."

Corrina's brother Langlo will graduate in January from B.U. Langlo works in the Rainbow on Sunday nights. He is open and friendly and speaks with many of the customers. But he is reticent when it comes to his family's history. "I don't want my history being published," he says. "I'm planning to write a book myself. When I graduate, I'm going to write a book about how much we had to struggle."

Langlo had hoped to go into criminal justice.He decided his English is not good enough; stillhe knows that there's a market for this field inhis community. "Asian people are very tothemselves and they don't tell people what theythink, so we need more Asian representatives.

"A lot of times, if something happens to them,the people here will think: 'Oh no, there's no usetalking about it, or going to court, because it istoo much of a hassle. No one will listen.' Nobodytalked to anybody about my brother. Now no oneknows what happened, really."

By 10:30, the Rainbow has cleared out. Langlo'sparents are putting away lettuce and rice andsoup. Someone is cleaning the kitchen. Langlodarts from table to table, wiping them down,sweeping the floors. "People think Chinatown's notsafe, because of the race. People are afraid ofChinese people.

"It's not just a Black-white issue in Americathere's other issues here. It's not just Black andwhite. Wake up. Being a minority in America sucks.There are racial tensions everywhere, it's justthat the main concern is always Black-and-white.It's only publicized because it's a Black andwhite issue.

"If they're going to talk about Black and whiteissues, please put other issues in: Black hatechinese, white hate Blacks, it happenseverywhere...Talk about everything, or just shutup about everything, then no one knows aboutanything."

Langlo does not want to talk aboutChinese-Vietnamese tensions in Chinatown. "Ireally don't care. I have so much different racefriends. I try not to talk to them about it,because I'm afraid it would offend me or I wouldoffend them so I try not to talk, `cause I meanwe're all friends. I talk exactly how I feel andwe talk about everything, but when it comes torace tensions we just don't talk about it.

"I used to be shy," Langlo says. "You know whatAsians are like. We keep to ourselves. But hellno, I'm not shy now. I lost a lot of things when Iwas shy, I didn't have a lot of friends, andpeople would call me `chink.' You're being stupidin America for being shy, so I'm speaking out,loud and clear."

By eleven o'clock, most of therestaurants have closed up for the night. Duringthe day, Chinatown is busy. People run to grocerystores, markets, restaurants and cafes. At night,Chinatown feels almost deserted. It does not havethe round-the-clock energy and activity of SanFrancisco's or New York's Chinatowns.

Boston's shrinking Combat Zone is in one end ofChinatown. The Naked I Cabaret, a totally nudestripjoint, is on the corner of Washington andBeach Streets. Next door is a triple-X gaytheater, and then some porn shops. Outside theNaked I, Michael Hutch asks for change. He'strying to get together seven dollars so he can buya ticket and sleep in the movie theater. "Fuckingperverts in there," he mumbles. "I just want to goand get some fucking sleep.A-12The Gate from Boston into Chinatown. Oneblock down is The Rainbow. Five to the Naked I.