Dressed to Kill
I kinda suck at putting together Halloween costumes and, looking back, I think I always have. At the risk of sounding like I'm shifting the blame, I think it was a family thing; my sister sucks at it too (If she reads this, I look forward to the torrent of expletive-filled texts). Looking back, they were pretty run-of-the-mill costumes from my sister dressed in the obligatory pumpkin costume to me dressed as a skeleton which is to say me wearing a skeleton combo consisting a black shirt, pants, and gloves with bones overlaid on the fabric; I wore this costume really up until early elementary school.
Never really wore any costumes with masks growing up. I wouldn't go as far to call my mom a helicopter parent but she didn't like us wearing masks because of the limited visibility and harder to identify us when she would take us trick-or-treating when we were young. And honestly, we didn't care too much because at that age it wasn't about dressing up so much as the costumes serving as an excuse to get free candy and stay out late in the sleepy surburbia of Fairfax. And that level of general ambivalence would really continue on for the rest of my life.
I think the most egregious example from my trick-or-treating days came around about second grade when I ostensibly dressed up as a ghost. This ensemble consisted of me wearing old time clothes including an old bowler hat my father had, stark white gloves, and painting my entire face white. What resulted was everyone that answered their door Halloween evening thinking I was dressed as a mime. But you know what I did every time someone answered the door and called me a mime? I pretended I was in a box, grabbed a fistful of Reese's Pieces and Twix, and went off to the next house. You have to play to your audience.
By middle school, I was out of the trick-or-treating game either escorting my sister around the neighborhood for her continuing All Hallow's Eve festivities or staying home watching scary movies and handing out the candy myself; sometimes awkwardly to kids that were my age or older but I felt as I entered my teenage years, I personally felt like the game was up. I would dress up at school if Halloween fell on a weekday but they were never too ornate; a cowboy hat and poncho transformed me into an ersatz vision of Clint Eastwood from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly; an old Superman t-shirt partially hidden under a dress shirt, tie, and swapping out my contacts for glasses made me a low(er)-rent Clark Kent. Again, it was more about the spirit of the season than actually dressing to the nines.
Oddly enough, I feel like Halloween costumes can shape up to be the most casually racist time of the year; it certainly feels like that's when I'm on the receiving end of it the most. And, for some reason, it seemed to intensify into college and young adulthood; the more self-aware people got, the more ignorant they became. Maybe it was a side effect of going to college deeper in the South.
If you're wondering if it's okay to laugh at the following anecdotes, it totally is. Lord knows I do as I look back at them with the usual bemused smirk and raised eyebrow.
The quality of my costumes improved a bit in college because people would be more likely to call you on a shit job than they had in high school; parties were more in vogue and with everyone wearing costumes, the level of expectation was risen commiseratively.
Being a lifelong Star Trek fan, I remember dressing up as Captain Kirk one Halloween with the classic gold command shirt and black pants. Those were the twilight days of the flip phone too which I naturally used as a communicator (I'm not saying I got a flip phone that resembled an OG Star Trek communicator but I totally got a flip phone that resembled an OG Star Trek communicator). Everyone I ran into that Halloween thought I was trusty Enterprise helmsman Hikaru Sulu.
All due respect to the great George Takei but who the fuck rolls in with a solo Star Trek ensemble jonesing to dress up as Sulu?!
Another year I remember showing off my Halloween costume to my girlfriend at the time, this time decked out as the Star-Spangled Avenger himself, Captain America complete with unabashedly jingoistic shield. My girlfriend rolled her eyes as I lowered my cowl, my usual messy black hair spilling back out.
"Great, an Asian Captain America" she sighed.
I wish I could tell you this led to a meaningful discussion or a stern reminder about race relations in the United States but honestly I just took it in stride. We dated for like another year and half, in fact.
Even as recent as this past weekend, nearly a decade out of college, I still get it sometimes. This year, I was dressed as Bruce Lee from his final film, Game of Death; the form-fitting yellow jumpsuit with black racing stripe. Of course I got a deluge of people thinking I was Uma Thurman's character from Kill Bill, itself drawing direct inspiration from the final fight sequence and iconic outfit from the Bruce Lee flick. But finally I drew a line when someone mistook me and decided to lay it out. What followed was this:
"So you're Kill Bill [never mind the fact that the character is referred to as The Bride/Beatrix Kiddo]?"
"Nah, actually I'm Bruce Lee's character from Game of Death which directly inspired Tarantino with Kill Bill."
"Oh. So you're Bruce Lee?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oh! Because you're Asian!"
"[sighs] Yes...because I'm Asian."
Shortly thereafter, someone at the party asked if I was Speed Racer. I just nodded, finished my whiskey neat in a single gulp, and walked away.
"You got it, man. Circle takes the square."
Maybe there's something to be said about wearing a mask for Halloween after all...
Never really wore any costumes with masks growing up. I wouldn't go as far to call my mom a helicopter parent but she didn't like us wearing masks because of the limited visibility and harder to identify us when she would take us trick-or-treating when we were young. And honestly, we didn't care too much because at that age it wasn't about dressing up so much as the costumes serving as an excuse to get free candy and stay out late in the sleepy surburbia of Fairfax. And that level of general ambivalence would really continue on for the rest of my life.
I think the most egregious example from my trick-or-treating days came around about second grade when I ostensibly dressed up as a ghost. This ensemble consisted of me wearing old time clothes including an old bowler hat my father had, stark white gloves, and painting my entire face white. What resulted was everyone that answered their door Halloween evening thinking I was dressed as a mime. But you know what I did every time someone answered the door and called me a mime? I pretended I was in a box, grabbed a fistful of Reese's Pieces and Twix, and went off to the next house. You have to play to your audience.
By middle school, I was out of the trick-or-treating game either escorting my sister around the neighborhood for her continuing All Hallow's Eve festivities or staying home watching scary movies and handing out the candy myself; sometimes awkwardly to kids that were my age or older but I felt as I entered my teenage years, I personally felt like the game was up. I would dress up at school if Halloween fell on a weekday but they were never too ornate; a cowboy hat and poncho transformed me into an ersatz vision of Clint Eastwood from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly; an old Superman t-shirt partially hidden under a dress shirt, tie, and swapping out my contacts for glasses made me a low(er)-rent Clark Kent. Again, it was more about the spirit of the season than actually dressing to the nines.
Oddly enough, I feel like Halloween costumes can shape up to be the most casually racist time of the year; it certainly feels like that's when I'm on the receiving end of it the most. And, for some reason, it seemed to intensify into college and young adulthood; the more self-aware people got, the more ignorant they became. Maybe it was a side effect of going to college deeper in the South.
If you're wondering if it's okay to laugh at the following anecdotes, it totally is. Lord knows I do as I look back at them with the usual bemused smirk and raised eyebrow.
The quality of my costumes improved a bit in college because people would be more likely to call you on a shit job than they had in high school; parties were more in vogue and with everyone wearing costumes, the level of expectation was risen commiseratively.
Being a lifelong Star Trek fan, I remember dressing up as Captain Kirk one Halloween with the classic gold command shirt and black pants. Those were the twilight days of the flip phone too which I naturally used as a communicator (I'm not saying I got a flip phone that resembled an OG Star Trek communicator but I totally got a flip phone that resembled an OG Star Trek communicator). Everyone I ran into that Halloween thought I was trusty Enterprise helmsman Hikaru Sulu.
All due respect to the great George Takei but who the fuck rolls in with a solo Star Trek ensemble jonesing to dress up as Sulu?!
Another year I remember showing off my Halloween costume to my girlfriend at the time, this time decked out as the Star-Spangled Avenger himself, Captain America complete with unabashedly jingoistic shield. My girlfriend rolled her eyes as I lowered my cowl, my usual messy black hair spilling back out.
"Great, an Asian Captain America" she sighed.
I wish I could tell you this led to a meaningful discussion or a stern reminder about race relations in the United States but honestly I just took it in stride. We dated for like another year and half, in fact.
Even as recent as this past weekend, nearly a decade out of college, I still get it sometimes. This year, I was dressed as Bruce Lee from his final film, Game of Death; the form-fitting yellow jumpsuit with black racing stripe. Of course I got a deluge of people thinking I was Uma Thurman's character from Kill Bill, itself drawing direct inspiration from the final fight sequence and iconic outfit from the Bruce Lee flick. But finally I drew a line when someone mistook me and decided to lay it out. What followed was this:
"So you're Kill Bill [never mind the fact that the character is referred to as The Bride/Beatrix Kiddo]?"
"Nah, actually I'm Bruce Lee's character from Game of Death which directly inspired Tarantino with Kill Bill."
"Oh. So you're Bruce Lee?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oh! Because you're Asian!"
"[sighs] Yes...because I'm Asian."
Shortly thereafter, someone at the party asked if I was Speed Racer. I just nodded, finished my whiskey neat in a single gulp, and walked away.
"You got it, man. Circle takes the square."
Maybe there's something to be said about wearing a mask for Halloween after all...
