The Netherlands....?

I gave the answer I always give. The answer that, in a dozen words, summed up my life and origins. "I was born in Taiwan, but have lived most of my life in the Netherlands".

"The Netherlands...?," she echoed, and as if the name triggered an automated response, continued "Isn't it very racist?"

I paused. Perhaps because I was stunned about the reaction, or perhaps I was stunned about how to respond to such an unexpected reaction-- a reaction that does not include the cliche of the land of tulips, windmills and terribly tall people. I was almost hesistant to answer. Hesistant, as if confirming that remark was an injury against my own country, against my own people.

But I thought again, and the words came out almost naturally."Yes..." Perhaps the girl saw and realised the hesitance and discomfort that I felt. But it was the truth. It was my experience, and I cannot deny it. "It is a somewhat racist country". As if the word "somewhat" qualified the statement. Somehow made it all the more better, made the country all the less racist. But racist, nonetheless.

I went on to explain why I thought so... and across my mind, the string of incidents flooded out. A country that wants to deport coloured Dutch citizens born-and-bred in the Netherlands to their 'home' country whenever they commit a serious crime... A country that forces only coloured immigrants to take humiliating "integration" exams about what a democracy is and why it is wrong to hit women... A country that cries of the terrible phenomenon of "Islamisation" when a Muslim is handpicked to be the mayor of Rotterdam... A country which stereotypises coloured people as being backward, uneducated and unsophisticated that they do not know how to operate a debit card machine... A country in which the media explicitly must report the (coloured) origin of the person in a criminal investigation... If being "racist" does not describe it, I am not sure what other word would.

"So I guess in a way, coming to Canada I wanted to 'escape' The Netherlands", I added. Escape, like Ayaan Hirsi Ali did, like so many (dare I say myself...) talented individuals have already done or planning to do. Because somehow their identification with the Netherlands goes no more than the passport they wield. And even then the passports are scrutinised, as if the passport was forged or bought on the criminal black market.

Harsh words. Disturbing critiques. And a guilty conscience I somewhat am left with having them, especially all the services and great privileges the country has provided me with. But am I to say that life in the Netherlands is all rosy, and that the country is as tolerant and accepting as it prides itself to be?