Kung Fu Hustle

After ward rounds, I sit by the desk to write some notes. Out of nowhere, the nurse asks:

Nurse:
Do you know kung fu?

Me:
That’s random. No, I don’t.

Nurse:
I think you do. Every Chinese does.

Me:
Where’d you get that idea from?

Nurse:
On TV, we see that people in China are trained in kung fu from the time when they’re little.

Me:
No, actually, we’re born already knowing kung fu. It’s in the blood. My mom told me that I’d kicked my way out of her womb, and then cut the cord with a kung fu chop.

Nurse:
Really?

Me:
No, of course not! I don’t know kung fu.

Nurse:
(Eyes me suspicious, unconvinced)

That was not the first time someone in Zambia has asked me if I know kung fu. Just the other day when I went jogging past the village market, some kid was mimicking kung fu moves at me and challenging me to a fight. I laughed and jogged passed him, thus perpetuating the stereotype by showing my incredible restraint and tolerance.

Should I feel flattered or offended?