Earlier this month, National Geographic magazine released an extremely intriguing video clip. Part of a series on the human race called “Population 7 billion,” it presented what researchers deem to be the most typical face on the planet: that of a male, 28-year-old Han Chinese man. There are nine million of them at the moment, so statistically it makes perfect sense.
To illustrate this conclusion, an image was pieced together out of 200,000 photos of subjects who fit the description. And yes, the composite does smack of déjà vu, like I’ve seen this person somewhere, somehow at some point in my life. Apart from making it clear that China was indeed taking over the world, that little experiment also made me stop and think about how I look, at least relative to how others do.
More Pokémon than G.I. Joe
When I was six, during my first trip to Tokyo, I remember crying when some kids tried communicating with me in Japanese. In hindsight, it was because up to that point, I spoke — and understood — nothing but English; the sounds of an alien language spooked me. It all seems hilarious now, but I thought I was white — like some of my Caucasian American classmates — until the third grade, when I got called “chink” or “Jap.” It hit me that just maybe, my background was more Pokémon than G.I. Joe.
Thankfully, traveling has become less traumatic since then. In fact, it has become one of the things I enjoy the most. With every new place I visit comes another opportunity to get to know myself better and see myself through the eyes of those around me.
Doppelgangers
Call it awfully indulgent, but I like asking newfound friends — usually over a pint or two to make it more challenging — to guess my ethnicity. Accent aside, I know that if push came to shove, I could easily work as a spy for China, Japan or Korea because of my generally east Asian appearance. Some answers, therefore, took me by surprise: Thai-Italian, Japanese-Peruvian, Uzbek and Afghan. (A friend originally from Kabul told me that I looked like a resident of the Silk Road. I immediately Googled and conceded. One other friend swore she saw me, or my doppelganger, while on holiday in Curitiba, Brazil, a place where Japanese immigrants intermarried with the locals, most of whom are of European descent.)
In Hong Kong, of course, I am automatically CBC – Canada-born Chinese. In Canada, however, it gets a little trickier. The people I considered my closest pals were of all racially indeterminate — Chinese-Greek, Japanese-Scottish, Chinese-Polish, name it. When we’re seen together we all tend to look related or First Nation, as Native Americans are known in Canada. And it gets even more puzzling: a South African girl I met while scuba-diving in the Caribbean said that back where she’s from, I’d be considered white. In Helsinki I am an object of curiosity, while in Vancouver, where there is a huge Hong Kong Chinese population, I get checked out like I’m some K-Pop heartthrob. It’s pretty fascinating, really.
In 20 Years
The older you get, the more comfortable you’re supposed to be in your own skin. It’s taken me 20-odd years to come to terms with how I look. Gradually finding out that I bear an uncanny resemblance to other people — the Scottish-Chinese Malaysian musician Jamie Woon is my latest lookalike — gives me a strange sense of comfort.
Truth be told, I was expecting to see myself in that National Geographic composite. I didn’t. Instead I saw my grandfather and his brothers, and rather poetically, all my ancestors from that side of the family. Before you get used gazing at what is the de facto most ubiquitous mug on the planet, bear in mind that in 20 years, at least according to the same project, it will all change. In a couple of decades, the most typical-looking person will have the features of someone from India.
* * *
Find me at ginobambino.tumblr.com