Here’s an example from back in my college days.

Context: I minored in Japanese, and took part in various East Asian culture and language clubs. I had also been to Japan and South Korea, several different towns in both, and stayed with my family alongside some Japanese students and a South Korean couple (in a friendly but professional “boarding for a conference” type context). Had great local food, and some touristy-type food for fun, but basically stuck to Japanese and Korean food, given the rare opportunity. Some of this food included giant steamed buns, specific types of sushi and ice cream (red bean and sweet potato flavors were common in both countries, as well as macha) the and excellent versions of rice porridge.

Anyway, during one of our club meetings, we got talking about Japanese (and other East Asian cultures’) food. And I, having mentioned being to Japan and South Korea before during our “why are we interested in this type of club” intro speeches, mentioned wistfully that I really was craving one of the aforementioned giant steamed dumplings/buns, red bean ice cream, and a type of porridge. I had pictures of myself and my family eating these things. I had bought a serviceable version of the dumplings at an East Asian market in the town where my college is. I knew these things existed, and I wanted them.

And a boy, a freshman boy (I was a…Junior? Senior?), who was not Japanese or Korean and had never been to Japan or South Korea, sternly piped up: “Those don’t exist. That’s only in anime. ”

Me, slightly baffled: Well, they are in anime, but they’re also real. I’ve had them.

Boy, more sternly: Yeah, stuff like it, but not giant like that. And not with those ingredients.

Me, bewildered and annoyed: But I’ve had that. I’ve literally eaten these dishes.

Boy, indulgently: Oh, like at an anime con? That makes sense.

Me, very annoyed: No. I just ordered it from a food stand. And I had the porridge in someone’s home.

Boy, indulgent: So they made it for an event, like on campus?

Me, very done with this: No, I got them in Japan and South Korea. I ate them there. Multiple times, from different restaurants.

Boy, annoyed: Ok, fine. I just thought you were talking about anime.

Now, I can’t and don’t claim to be an irreproachable expert on Japan and South Korea. So if we had been having a discussion about misconceptions or clarifying things as a group, there’s no problem with someone voicing their own experiences or knowledge about it. But that wasn’t what happened here. This guy was so very convinced that I had made up or imagined the actual existence of this food after watching anime, or mistakenly thought anime reflected real life, and therefore he just had to correct me. No amount of me gently explaining that I was reminiscing about food I had personally partaken in could convince him that I wasn’t imagining anime food as a real thing. I had, at this point, spent 3–4 years studying Japan and South Korea, including courses specifically designed to juxtapose real world culture and practices against the presentation of Japanese culture in anime, and I was therefore aware that anime is not an accurate reflection of Japan and South Korea, and mistaken belief that “Japan= what I see in anime” is very annoying to the citizens and academics in East Asian studies. The boy had never been to Japan or South Korea, and wasn’t very involved with East Asian studies academically yet, which is obviously fine. It was no secret that I had been to those countries, and that I was an upperclassmen with experience in East Asian Studies. But he was still very convinced that he knew: 1) what I meant, despite my words, 2) that I was wrong about it, and 3) that he knew more information with which to correct me. He was wrong on all counts, but was so resolved to correct my mistaken girlish mind that he only backed down after I bluntly said he was wrong and reminded him that I had real world experience, and then he got annoyed about it.

Another example:

A younger coworker of mine, 18 to my 25 at the time, really wanted to sell me a stock opportunity. Which he tried to do at a work event, surrounded by mostly women. The exchange went thus:

Him: You should invest in This stock.

Me: Thanks, but I don’t think I have the money for that right now.

Him: No no, it’s really easy! You buy low prices, and then the value increases!

Me: Yeah, but it’s a gamble, and not one I can afford. [Instead of “I don’t want to or care, go away”]

Him, pulling out his phone: No, no, see, you buy low and increase the value. Then you can sell when the price is high, earn money.

Me: Uh huh, I know how stocks work. I don’t really want to invest right now.

Him, shoving his phone in my face and pointing: No, see, if you buy when it’s low, like here, you can sell high, like this point.

Me: Yup, I get the picture. I’m not going to.

Him, pointing at a valley an peak on the graph: See, low here, high here.

Another coworker: Oh my God, shut up, she gets it, she knows what numbers are.

Now, I’m not a mathematician. But I can read a fucking graph. I can see the difference between a low point on it, and a high point. I also knew at least as much practical information about stocks as this kid. But he has to make sure my little brain could handle the concept of high and low numbers. Until someone else, another woman, begged him to stop. It was the most ridiculous exchange I had had in a long time.