Gabriel thought about his life. He wanted to blame someone for his life. He had become such a failure. True, he owned a grocery store, but that wasn't enough. He had wanted to be a great novelist. What was he now? It was true, what Susan Sontag had once said. White men were the cancer of the human race. They sowed all these dreams into us. They told us that we were equal and free. But somewhere inside of them. they believed that they were exceptional. They did not have to play by the rules.
He thought about movies. There were hardly any Asian heroes. They were always marginalized characters. In pornography, the white man fucked all the races. It seemed to represent how they had colonized places all over the world. Why did this distress Gabriel? So the white man possessed great power... why did that matter? Then he sang, "Diarrhea, diarrhea, the Lord hath come." He felt terrible after he sang that, but, at the same time, he felt even God was a creation of the white man to suppress the rest of the world. He was really feeling small. What could he achieve? Even in front of white women, he felt like a dwarf or little people. He wanted to achieve something as a yellow man that would prove that a yellow man could be just as good as the white man. It was overwhelming though. Liberal philosophy, democracy, psychology, economics, modern literature, anthropology, science, and so many other accepted fields of study had been discovered and refined by mostly white men and women. So should he worship these people? NO! They must have forgotten or ignored something or made a mistake somewhere. YES! It was true that the yellow man had contributed to the sciences. He was very proud of that. Despite the fact that he despised Japan for its sense of its racial purity and superiority over other people, he loved the fact that they were the second largest economy in the world. Asians has grown richer in the last thirty or forty years? Was this because of American support?
Gabriel wasn't sure. Why did it matter in the end? Why was he obsessed with who was better than whom? It was a power game after all. Power was an enemy of truth. Power was the bride of pride. Liberal guilt was the aftereffect of betrayal. Bipartisan politricks, he thought. He had wanted so be so different from the others or perhaps he just wanted to be recognized, made famous, seen as a element of power. He didn't think that he wanted that, but he wasn't sure. Power. The last thing he wanted to do was to work for the white man. He wasn't going to glorify their monuments of magnificence. He felt that they were on the wrong path.