I'm guilty of it myself.

Racism is such an ugly word, isn't it?

Honestly, I thought that Hong Kong was free from racial discrimination. We are a cosmopolitan city, welcoming tourists from across the world every day. Yet, as I dig up long-buried memories, a throbbing mass of guilt and anger surfaces.

I remember lashing out at my secondary school's head girl when she jokingly commented on an Indian friend's skin colour in Cantonese.

But I didn't always speak up.

I remember standing by, silently uncomfortable, as family members made anti-Semitic remarks, and warned me to be careful when dealing with certain races that were especially 'devious' or 'cunning'.

I recall the first time I met my Filipino roommate last summer. I had to constantly remind myself that not all Filipinas were domestic helpers.

My roommate and I are close friends now and her ethnic origin barely registers on my radar, but the fact that I needed to wean myself off that stereotype is an embarrassing reminder of my own discriminatory eye.

At my university, I'm relieved to say that my friends are racially diverse; we are united through similar lifestyles. Nonetheless, a spectre of shame remains. I need to constantly challenge my perceptions, actions that I may not even notice in the course of my daily life.

Do I automatically move away from other racial groups in crowded subway stations, choosing to stand close to my own kind?

Do I associate odours with certain people? Am I more tense, more alert at night when men of a certain skin colour walk by?

Much as I hate to admit it, I think I am susceptible to racial profiling.

It's easy to pretend racism doesn't exist in Hong Kong. It does, however, and it's time to open your eyes and take a long, hard look at yourself.

Are you racist? I think, unfortunately, I am.

Ms Yeung is a student at the University of Pennsylvania