This weekend I attended a friend's wedding. It was absolutely lovely, a lot of fun, and the epitome of this blog--Mixed Race America. The bride is a white Mennonite from Canada. The groom is a Chinese American born to Taiwanese immigrant parents. The guests were a mix of various ethnicities and races--and a great number of them were "foreigners" -- Canadian family members and immigrants (many of whom have since become naturalized citizens) from China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Guatemala, Viet Nam, and Argentina. And there were multiracial guests: white-Chinese, white-Indian, Chinese-Guatemalan. One of the running jokes was that I was one of the few true "Americans"--one of the few guests born and raised in the United States.
I take for granted that weddings like this happen and that it was celebrated by guests who were African American, white, Canadian, Taiwanese, Asian American, Latino, etc...
So it was jarring to receive this blog comment on an older post I had written back in December 2009 when Philadelphia Cream Cheese put out its first (at least I believe it's their first) commercial featuring a visibly inter-racial couple (in this case a white man and a black woman):
"A close look at the Word of God proves he is against mingling"
White Christian Male under attach from both left and right"
race mixing is a sin . Not on a sin, its the sin that brings genocide to
one race or the other..currently in 50 years the white race will be a
minority in the USA
your comment caught up with you"
Monday, July 16, 2012
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Why blog?
I realize that I've been a sporadic blogger. I promise that I'm not going to begin every blog post in which I haven't posted in over a week with this kind of apology, but I've been trying to figure out why I haven't felt the need to blog on a regular basis. I was looking at the stats in my archive (right side bar) and in 2008 I was at the height of my blogging life--I was probably blogging at least twice if not 3 or 4 times a week. And then things tapered off, with last year as the all-time record low of 34 posts--less than a post per week.
So I have to ask myself--why blog? Why do I keep this blog--and what do I want to do with it?
I suppose I've been thinking A LOT about blogging because for part of my new book chapter I've been reading a lot of blogs (part of it deals with blogging--not ready to talk in specific details about the book chapter yet, so I think I'll just leave it at that) and I've been remembering back to 2008 when I was blogging on a regular basis and I had this whole community of people leaving comments and probably folks who were lurking and linking back to my blog. And I met so many amazing people--fellow bloggers like Tenured Radical and Tami from What Tami Said and the folks at Love Isn't Enough.
What was different in 2008? I was on leave (technically I was on leave from Fall 2007-Spring 2008) I was beginning my book manuscript (the same one that I'm still working on). Which makes sense that in 2009 it dropped off as I was in the thick of teaching and writing. And then BAM, April 2010 I get my cancer diagnosis. So it, again, makes sense that 2010 and 2011 were not going to be big blogging years for me.
And now I find myself, 5 years from when I started this blog, on another year-long leave from the classroom--this time finishing the book project on racial ambiguity (back then I thought I was writing about passing). I also find myself missing having a regular community of commenters and being a regular commenter of the blogs that I used to read on a daily basis.
I guess I've also been thinking about this because my friend "D" sent me this link from The Guardian about the need for more minority scholars who blog (click here) and I am, of course, reminded (as the article alludes to) about the whole AWFUL and RACIST blog post that happened on the Chronicle of Higher Ed and Tressie Mc's wonderfully astute and insightful and intelligent analysis and response to it (click here--out of full disclosure I should also say that I'm proud to call Tressie a friend and I knew her back before she was blogging so elegantly and eloquently)
What this all means is that I really hope to be blogging more regularly and to be reading blogs more regularly. There are some mighty smart folk writing about race--and I want to be part of that community again. Or perhaps more accurately, I want to be a more active participant in that community. Here's to good intentions!
So I have to ask myself--why blog? Why do I keep this blog--and what do I want to do with it?
I suppose I've been thinking A LOT about blogging because for part of my new book chapter I've been reading a lot of blogs (part of it deals with blogging--not ready to talk in specific details about the book chapter yet, so I think I'll just leave it at that) and I've been remembering back to 2008 when I was blogging on a regular basis and I had this whole community of people leaving comments and probably folks who were lurking and linking back to my blog. And I met so many amazing people--fellow bloggers like Tenured Radical and Tami from What Tami Said and the folks at Love Isn't Enough.
What was different in 2008? I was on leave (technically I was on leave from Fall 2007-Spring 2008) I was beginning my book manuscript (the same one that I'm still working on). Which makes sense that in 2009 it dropped off as I was in the thick of teaching and writing. And then BAM, April 2010 I get my cancer diagnosis. So it, again, makes sense that 2010 and 2011 were not going to be big blogging years for me.
And now I find myself, 5 years from when I started this blog, on another year-long leave from the classroom--this time finishing the book project on racial ambiguity (back then I thought I was writing about passing). I also find myself missing having a regular community of commenters and being a regular commenter of the blogs that I used to read on a daily basis.
I guess I've also been thinking about this because my friend "D" sent me this link from The Guardian about the need for more minority scholars who blog (click here) and I am, of course, reminded (as the article alludes to) about the whole AWFUL and RACIST blog post that happened on the Chronicle of Higher Ed and Tressie Mc's wonderfully astute and insightful and intelligent analysis and response to it (click here--out of full disclosure I should also say that I'm proud to call Tressie a friend and I knew her back before she was blogging so elegantly and eloquently)
What this all means is that I really hope to be blogging more regularly and to be reading blogs more regularly. There are some mighty smart folk writing about race--and I want to be part of that community again. Or perhaps more accurately, I want to be a more active participant in that community. Here's to good intentions!
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Featuring: Deann Borshay Liem & her future film Geographies of Kinship
It is July 1 -- the middle of summer. The time of year when, if you are an academic who is working on a project, you wonder and worry about how much time left before the start of the school year and putting your research project on hold. In my case, I am blessed with enormously good fortune. I will be on sabbatical all next year. I will not have to teach fall or spring semesters. I am not teaching this summer or next summer. I am simply researching and writing. The goal: finish the book.
I start here because I'm in the thick of reading about adoption. Mostly U.S. adoption. Mostly transnational adoption. Mostly transnational/transracial adoption between white American families and Asian adopted children (mostly girls, mostly from Korea/China).
There's a lot that's applicable to a blog called Mixed Race America in terms of these kinds of issues. I will say that historically, in the U.S., multiracial children have had the hardest times being placed for adoption and that many agencies had very racist restrictions against placing multiracial children because the idea was that (1) you should match children to parents -- blond headed blue eyed boys with blond headed blue eyed parents (2) if you matched successfully you would never need to tell your son/daughter that s/he was adopted.
Multiracial/mixed race children obviously complicated points #1 & #2.
But I'm digressing.
The point of this post is really to highlight an exceptional filmmaker: Deann Borshay Liem.
Liem has two documentaries that chronicle her adoption from Korea: First Person Plural and In the Matter of Cha Jung Hee. I teach First Person Plural in my classes, and I had the pleasure of seeing In the Matter of Cha Jung Hee when Liem screened it at the Association of Asian American Studies conference two years ago (I've since purchased a copy). Both are remarkable films--very moving, very thought provoking, very insightful into the politics of transnational adoption and the complicated layers of belonging and family-feeling in transracial adoption.
Now Liem is working on a new documentary, Geographies of Kinship: The Korean Adoption Story. I've embedded a video preview of the film below:
Currently, Liem is looking for financial support to finish her film--which from the looks of the trailer is going to be an incredibly powerful, moving, and important film. She has a Kickstarter campaign and there's 30 more days for her to reach her goal of $75,000 (she's already raised $14,000+). If you are as moved by the trailer to her film as I was, please consider giving, even just $5 to her Kickstarter campaign (and you can find the page here). Of course for $100 you can get a signed copy of the film and the satisfaction of knowing that you helped a very talented filmmaker finish what is sure to be an excellent film.
Finally, let me leave you with a video interview that Liem did with POV after her initial film, First Person Plural was picked up by POV/PBS and was showcased at film festivals around the U.S.:
I start here because I'm in the thick of reading about adoption. Mostly U.S. adoption. Mostly transnational adoption. Mostly transnational/transracial adoption between white American families and Asian adopted children (mostly girls, mostly from Korea/China).
There's a lot that's applicable to a blog called Mixed Race America in terms of these kinds of issues. I will say that historically, in the U.S., multiracial children have had the hardest times being placed for adoption and that many agencies had very racist restrictions against placing multiracial children because the idea was that (1) you should match children to parents -- blond headed blue eyed boys with blond headed blue eyed parents (2) if you matched successfully you would never need to tell your son/daughter that s/he was adopted.
Multiracial/mixed race children obviously complicated points #1 & #2.
But I'm digressing.
The point of this post is really to highlight an exceptional filmmaker: Deann Borshay Liem.
Liem has two documentaries that chronicle her adoption from Korea: First Person Plural and In the Matter of Cha Jung Hee. I teach First Person Plural in my classes, and I had the pleasure of seeing In the Matter of Cha Jung Hee when Liem screened it at the Association of Asian American Studies conference two years ago (I've since purchased a copy). Both are remarkable films--very moving, very thought provoking, very insightful into the politics of transnational adoption and the complicated layers of belonging and family-feeling in transracial adoption.
Now Liem is working on a new documentary, Geographies of Kinship: The Korean Adoption Story. I've embedded a video preview of the film below:
Currently, Liem is looking for financial support to finish her film--which from the looks of the trailer is going to be an incredibly powerful, moving, and important film. She has a Kickstarter campaign and there's 30 more days for her to reach her goal of $75,000 (she's already raised $14,000+). If you are as moved by the trailer to her film as I was, please consider giving, even just $5 to her Kickstarter campaign (and you can find the page here). Of course for $100 you can get a signed copy of the film and the satisfaction of knowing that you helped a very talented filmmaker finish what is sure to be an excellent film.
Finally, let me leave you with a video interview that Liem did with POV after her initial film, First Person Plural was picked up by POV/PBS and was showcased at film festivals around the U.S.:
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
The legacy of Vincent Chin and what it means to be Asian American
This past Saturday, June 23, 2012, marked the 30th anniversary of Vincent Chin's death. For those of you who aren't familiar with who Vincent Chin is, let me direct you to this article, which also has a link to a fantastic Op-Ed piece in the New York Times by Frank Wu.
30 years is both a blink of an eye (in terms of the age of the earth/how long humans have been in existence) and a long stretch of time (1982 means an era before the internet, before cell phones, before the phrase "google" or "blog" and when "twitter" was something that birds did). 30 years ago Asian Americans weren't Asian Americans so much as they were Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Indian, Pakistani, Vietnamese, Cambodian, Filipino...you get my drift. They were also Oriental in many places, including how they self-identified. Asian American studies was something happening on the West coast, specifically SF and LA, but not so much in the East or the Midwest (and forget about the South).
And then Vincent Chin's murder galvanized Asian-ethnic groups across the nation, across ethnic and class and religious divides. There was a realization about what it meant to have an Asian face in this country and what it meant to be racialized as Asian American, namely that violence and oppression happened because of one's race rather than one's ethnicity--Chin was targeted not because he was Chinese American but because the two Detroit autoworkers in the bar who attacked him were angry at Japan's auto industry and took out their frustration in a racist way--meaning, they scapegoated Chin as someone they thought "looked" like or could stand in for the Japanese.
There were many 30th anniversary events happening on June 23. Unfortunately I couldn't make any of them because I was high on vicodin and swelled up like a chipmunk due to oral surgery the day before. However, if anyone is interested in the video footage from APA for Progress, I will embed it at the bottom of this post.
[Aside: The reason I didn't write this post on June 23 was also because I was high on vicodin and rocking the chipmunk look/not feeling well--I find it's best not to write things in a public forum when you're under the influence...although perhaps it would have been amusing to read my rambling thoughts about race while drugged up]
I've been thinking a lot about how far we've come as a community and how far we have to go in light of the 30th anniversary of Chin's death, since this is the moment that many scholars and activist note is a turning point in pan-ethnic Asian American coalition building. And I should add that it wasn't just Asian Americans who were outraged--black allies especially came out and decried this injustice. And there were allies of all racial makeups who marched and protested and rallied alongside Asian Americans of all ethnic persuasions.
If we are to believe the recent Pew report that came out, "The Rise of Asian Americans," then we would think that we have, indeed, not only come a long way from 1982 but overcome hurdles that continue to plague other people of color and have achieved even beyond the standard of white Americans. We are the most educated, happiest, and well adjusted of racial groups in this nation. We have high median household incomes. We also tend to vote democrat, and most of us don't actually identify with the label "Asian American," preferring our ethnic ancestries over a politically racial label.
What you may be hearing are echoes of the Model Minority Myth (MMM)--that tricky stereotype that says Asian Americans are high achieving and are outpacing all other minority groups in the US. There are 3 dark underbellies to the MMM:
(1) It obscures the actual history of racialization and oppression that Asians in the US have been subject to, making it seem as if there is some kind of essentialized trait that makes them succeed instead of looking at the institutional and historic factors that have caused their subjugation--in other words, it's all happy news instead of looking at the more nuanced and complex history of Asians in the United States.
(2) Not all Asian Americans groups are succeeding. To be fair, the Pew Report does mention Southeast Asian groups as among the lowest achieving in terms of education and household income--this SF Gate article was actually much more circumspect about the report and/or more nuanced in terms of understanding the diversity of Asian-ethnicities that comprise Asian Americans. The MMM flattens ethnic differences and makes it seem as if ALL Asian Americans are succeeding at equal rates--it obscures the different histories and circumstances of immigration (see #1).
(3) It pits Asian Americans against other racial minorities. The MMM basically says to Latino, American Indians, and African Americans, "Hey, why can't YOU be like these hard working/over-achieving/GOOD Asians." It sets up a hierarchy of racial groups that continues to villify certain races by pointing to the success and achievement of others, again without thinking about the different sets of historic circumstances and racializations that have happened as a result of the greater social and cultural values that privilege whiteness.
Many Asian American scholars and activists have come out with statements against the Pew Report, such as the Asian American and Pacific Islander Policy and Research Consortium (click here for their letter) and the Asian American Center for Advancing Justice (click here for their response). I won't repeat what they've written, but I do want to add one final thought (to which I'll elaborate later in a future blog post) and that is that increasingly I think we need a new definition for what it means to be Asian American--for what it means to self-consciously decide that you identify as an ASIAN AMERICAN.
Because for me, to be Asian American means understanding that this is a political category--that all racial categories are political categories, ones that were created to uphold certain ideologies (in the U.S. this has meant the belief in whiteness as supreme--aka "white supremacy," which shouldn't be confused with the guys in white sheets, although they are a manifestation of this ideology). Being Asian American means that I understand the history of racial oppression that Asians in the U.S. have been subject to. It means I understand the intersectional identities of Asian Americans--that they are also oppressed and privileged depending on their sexual, gendered, religious, able-bodied, regional, educational, and class status. And finally, it means that to be Asian American I believe that all people are equal--that I support issues that, for lack of a better word, are social justice issues. I support marriage equality. I support overturning racist laws that primarily target Latino people in Arizona. I support access to physical spaces for people of various abilities.
Being Asian American, to me, means that I want to end oppression and be an ally--wouldn't it be wonderful if more people wanted to be Asian American?
[30th Anniversary event of APA for Progress]
30 years is both a blink of an eye (in terms of the age of the earth/how long humans have been in existence) and a long stretch of time (1982 means an era before the internet, before cell phones, before the phrase "google" or "blog" and when "twitter" was something that birds did). 30 years ago Asian Americans weren't Asian Americans so much as they were Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Indian, Pakistani, Vietnamese, Cambodian, Filipino...you get my drift. They were also Oriental in many places, including how they self-identified. Asian American studies was something happening on the West coast, specifically SF and LA, but not so much in the East or the Midwest (and forget about the South).
And then Vincent Chin's murder galvanized Asian-ethnic groups across the nation, across ethnic and class and religious divides. There was a realization about what it meant to have an Asian face in this country and what it meant to be racialized as Asian American, namely that violence and oppression happened because of one's race rather than one's ethnicity--Chin was targeted not because he was Chinese American but because the two Detroit autoworkers in the bar who attacked him were angry at Japan's auto industry and took out their frustration in a racist way--meaning, they scapegoated Chin as someone they thought "looked" like or could stand in for the Japanese.
There were many 30th anniversary events happening on June 23. Unfortunately I couldn't make any of them because I was high on vicodin and swelled up like a chipmunk due to oral surgery the day before. However, if anyone is interested in the video footage from APA for Progress, I will embed it at the bottom of this post.
[Aside: The reason I didn't write this post on June 23 was also because I was high on vicodin and rocking the chipmunk look/not feeling well--I find it's best not to write things in a public forum when you're under the influence...although perhaps it would have been amusing to read my rambling thoughts about race while drugged up]
I've been thinking a lot about how far we've come as a community and how far we have to go in light of the 30th anniversary of Chin's death, since this is the moment that many scholars and activist note is a turning point in pan-ethnic Asian American coalition building. And I should add that it wasn't just Asian Americans who were outraged--black allies especially came out and decried this injustice. And there were allies of all racial makeups who marched and protested and rallied alongside Asian Americans of all ethnic persuasions.
If we are to believe the recent Pew report that came out, "The Rise of Asian Americans," then we would think that we have, indeed, not only come a long way from 1982 but overcome hurdles that continue to plague other people of color and have achieved even beyond the standard of white Americans. We are the most educated, happiest, and well adjusted of racial groups in this nation. We have high median household incomes. We also tend to vote democrat, and most of us don't actually identify with the label "Asian American," preferring our ethnic ancestries over a politically racial label.
What you may be hearing are echoes of the Model Minority Myth (MMM)--that tricky stereotype that says Asian Americans are high achieving and are outpacing all other minority groups in the US. There are 3 dark underbellies to the MMM:
(1) It obscures the actual history of racialization and oppression that Asians in the US have been subject to, making it seem as if there is some kind of essentialized trait that makes them succeed instead of looking at the institutional and historic factors that have caused their subjugation--in other words, it's all happy news instead of looking at the more nuanced and complex history of Asians in the United States.
(2) Not all Asian Americans groups are succeeding. To be fair, the Pew Report does mention Southeast Asian groups as among the lowest achieving in terms of education and household income--this SF Gate article was actually much more circumspect about the report and/or more nuanced in terms of understanding the diversity of Asian-ethnicities that comprise Asian Americans. The MMM flattens ethnic differences and makes it seem as if ALL Asian Americans are succeeding at equal rates--it obscures the different histories and circumstances of immigration (see #1).
(3) It pits Asian Americans against other racial minorities. The MMM basically says to Latino, American Indians, and African Americans, "Hey, why can't YOU be like these hard working/over-achieving/GOOD Asians." It sets up a hierarchy of racial groups that continues to villify certain races by pointing to the success and achievement of others, again without thinking about the different sets of historic circumstances and racializations that have happened as a result of the greater social and cultural values that privilege whiteness.
Many Asian American scholars and activists have come out with statements against the Pew Report, such as the Asian American and Pacific Islander Policy and Research Consortium (click here for their letter) and the Asian American Center for Advancing Justice (click here for their response). I won't repeat what they've written, but I do want to add one final thought (to which I'll elaborate later in a future blog post) and that is that increasingly I think we need a new definition for what it means to be Asian American--for what it means to self-consciously decide that you identify as an ASIAN AMERICAN.
Because for me, to be Asian American means understanding that this is a political category--that all racial categories are political categories, ones that were created to uphold certain ideologies (in the U.S. this has meant the belief in whiteness as supreme--aka "white supremacy," which shouldn't be confused with the guys in white sheets, although they are a manifestation of this ideology). Being Asian American means that I understand the history of racial oppression that Asians in the U.S. have been subject to. It means I understand the intersectional identities of Asian Americans--that they are also oppressed and privileged depending on their sexual, gendered, religious, able-bodied, regional, educational, and class status. And finally, it means that to be Asian American I believe that all people are equal--that I support issues that, for lack of a better word, are social justice issues. I support marriage equality. I support overturning racist laws that primarily target Latino people in Arizona. I support access to physical spaces for people of various abilities.
Being Asian American, to me, means that I want to end oppression and be an ally--wouldn't it be wonderful if more people wanted to be Asian American?
[30th Anniversary event of APA for Progress]
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Living up to others' expectations
Today Rodney King passed away. He was found dead in his swimming pool in southern California. He was 47 years old. For those of you who may not know, Rodney King was the catalyst (I think that's probably an accurate way of putting it) for one of the most massive and cataclysmic race riots/insurrections in recent memory. In fact this past April marked the 20th anniversary of the LA Riots/Insurrection (click here for more information about this event--also Mike Davis has an excellent essay about why the April 1992 event should be referred to as an uprising or insurrection vs. riot--I can't find it on-line but here's a piece by him in the LA Review of Books that's worth looking at).
In the New York Times article about his passing, King is quoted as saying:
But Rodney King was human. Which meant he made mistakes. He was flawed. He didn't live his life perfectly (how many of us do?). And yet from this quote, it seems as if others, perhaps including King himself, thought he should have been something more than he was. And trying to live up to the expectations of others is probably one of the hardest things that any of us could ever encounter. And if you're Rodney King, imagine how much harder those expectations would rest on your shoulder.
Rodney King's name will forever be linked to the LA Riots/Uprisings. And his name will forever be associated with the worst of police brutality. But I also hope he will be remembered as someone who also inspired people to want a different vision of racial justice and who also, in the heat of violence, pleaded with people by somewhat helplessly asking, "Can't we all just get along?"
Can't we all just get along.
It seems like such a simple request. But just like expectations, it can be hard to live up to.
In the New York Times article about his passing, King is quoted as saying:
“People look at me like I should have been like Malcolm X or Martin Luther King or Rosa Parks,” he told The Los Angeles Times in April. “I should have seen life like that and stay out of trouble, and don’t do this and don’t do that. But it’s hard to live up to some people’s expectations.”It's hard to live up to the expectations that others have of us. Especially, in King's case, when he found himself catapulted into a national and international spotlight. Especially when we want people to be role models and to take on the causes for important social justice movements or to become the spokesperson who will speak truth to justice and do the right thing.
But Rodney King was human. Which meant he made mistakes. He was flawed. He didn't live his life perfectly (how many of us do?). And yet from this quote, it seems as if others, perhaps including King himself, thought he should have been something more than he was. And trying to live up to the expectations of others is probably one of the hardest things that any of us could ever encounter. And if you're Rodney King, imagine how much harder those expectations would rest on your shoulder.
Rodney King's name will forever be linked to the LA Riots/Uprisings. And his name will forever be associated with the worst of police brutality. But I also hope he will be remembered as someone who also inspired people to want a different vision of racial justice and who also, in the heat of violence, pleaded with people by somewhat helplessly asking, "Can't we all just get along?"
Can't we all just get along.
It seems like such a simple request. But just like expectations, it can be hard to live up to.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Defending the South
I'm currently enjoying the wonderfully sunny beauty of San Diego, CA. I've been in California for the last 2 and 1/2 weeks, first flying into SFO, then spending lots of time with family and friends, attending a conference in San Francisco, and then flying down to San Diego for some QT with my cousin J.
There are many things that I'm struck by whenever I return to California, especially the Bay Area. First, when my cousin A and his wife S picked me up from the airport and took me to their favorite sushi place in Alameda (the appropriately named Sushi House) the first words out of my mouth when we walked in the restaurant was "Where did all these Asian people come from???" Yep, the entire restaurant (which easily could seat 200) seemed chock full o'Asians. Truthfully, there were African American, Latino, and white clientel scattered amongst and with their fellow Asian American patrons, but overwhelmingly what you encountered, from the staff to the patrons, were Asian faces. Or specifically, Asian American faces, and judging from conversation, not recent immigrants (at least didn't hear many, if any, Asian accents).
So I'm back in the land of Asian Americans. Which is always nice--to feel like I'm not in the minority. That I'm not the only person of color or Asian American in the room. Quite frankly, especially in the Bay Area, especially in San Francisco, Asian faces are everywhere.
And it feels great to be back in California because this is where my family (whom I love) and my close friends from college (whom I also love) are--and the food...don't get me started with the food! Today I had classic beer battered fish tacos from a place in Point Loma called Cotija Taco Shop that were DIVINE--and they were inexpensive--just a hole-in-the-wall place with GREAT FOOD.
But what I find, what has been unexpected about my return to the land of my youth and young adulthood, is that I find myself feeling defensive and defending...the South.
In particular during the soccer match of my best friend B's oldest daughter (who's 10) I was introduced to a variety of Bay Area soccer parents, who were all super friendly. My friend B introduced me as her "best friend from North Carolina"--which I used to feel (when she did this after I first moved to NC) to be not quite accurate, but as more time has passed, I realize that for the time being, I am definitely staying put and that it's true that I am "from" North Carolina since my husband, dog, house, and job are all in NC.
So what I got from every person I met was this "Oh, let me give you some advice about things to see/do/eat"--and then I'd explain that I actually grew up in Hayward and went to UCSB (which is where I met B). And at that point in the conversation (and I had this conversation with over a dozen soccer parents because we got there early and I got introduced to a lot of folks) was something along the lines of:
"Oh, you must be relieved not to be in the South anymore--it's so racist there!"
"Oh, you must be SO GLAD to be back in California!"
"Wow, what made you live in North Carolina??? I could never leave California!"
"You must be so glad to have some good food while you're here"
"I bet you are so happy to be away from the South and back in a more liberal place"
[this, was especially meant in light of the recent Amendment One debacle]
"You could never get me living outside the Bay Area, especially not in the South!"
Now, each and every time I got this reaction, I was very polite, but also firmly said things like,
"Actually, the county I live in voted 69% against Amendment One"
"I live in a very liberal college town and feel really comfortable there--and there's racism everywhere"
"The town I live in has a very good local food movement and was voted in the top 5 best small towns to eat in by Bon Appetite"
"I actually really like where I live, and Southern U. is a great school"
What I found myself doing, in other words, was defending the South. Perhaps what I was doing was defending my own little corner of the South, but none-the-less, I felt like I had to correct the stereotypes, misperceptions, and arrogance of my questioners. Especially since my husband is born and bred in this area (I do refer to him as Southern Man for a reason), and he speaks with a Southern accent, as do his family. As do many of my students, friends, and neighbors.
The thing is, I was one of those people not too long ago. I would have said any or all of those things. And I'm embarrassed and slightly ashamed about what a snob I was--about how condescending I was about anything that was outside of my California bubble.
And I must say that in terms of a more nuanced understanding of race relations, of stereotypes, of white privilege and class privilege and all of those intersections (like regional privilege), confronting my own misperceptions and misconceptions of the South has made me a better anti-racist educator. It has made me aware of the ways that I have stereotyped and typecast people with a southern accent. It had made me realize the prejudices that people outside the South has for anyone who drinks sweet tea (and doesn't realize there's any other kind of way to drink iced tea) and that it's still OK to make fun of people from the South.
Don't get me wrong--the South is far, FAR, from perfect. There are a lot of ass-backwards things going on here (Amendment One???)--but there are ass-backwards things going on in the Northeast, the West, and the Midwest. Anti-gay legislation and bullying happens everywhere. Racism happens everywhere. Yes, there aren't as many Asian Americans here, and that's something that I feel sad about, personally and professionally. But I also believe in the words of Gandhi:
"Be the change you want to see in the world."
And so, for the time being, I will be revel in my California vacation. I will soak up the sun (it's 68, sunny, with a slight breeze and a few wispy clouds in the sky). I will bask in my family and friends. And I will go home to my little corner of the South, and I will work to change the things I think need changing and to celebrate the fact that I have new family and friends to form my southern community, and that I can do my anti-racist educating in the South with a better understanding of having been born and bred outside this place I now call home.
There are many things that I'm struck by whenever I return to California, especially the Bay Area. First, when my cousin A and his wife S picked me up from the airport and took me to their favorite sushi place in Alameda (the appropriately named Sushi House) the first words out of my mouth when we walked in the restaurant was "Where did all these Asian people come from???" Yep, the entire restaurant (which easily could seat 200) seemed chock full o'Asians. Truthfully, there were African American, Latino, and white clientel scattered amongst and with their fellow Asian American patrons, but overwhelmingly what you encountered, from the staff to the patrons, were Asian faces. Or specifically, Asian American faces, and judging from conversation, not recent immigrants (at least didn't hear many, if any, Asian accents).
So I'm back in the land of Asian Americans. Which is always nice--to feel like I'm not in the minority. That I'm not the only person of color or Asian American in the room. Quite frankly, especially in the Bay Area, especially in San Francisco, Asian faces are everywhere.
And it feels great to be back in California because this is where my family (whom I love) and my close friends from college (whom I also love) are--and the food...don't get me started with the food! Today I had classic beer battered fish tacos from a place in Point Loma called Cotija Taco Shop that were DIVINE--and they were inexpensive--just a hole-in-the-wall place with GREAT FOOD.
But what I find, what has been unexpected about my return to the land of my youth and young adulthood, is that I find myself feeling defensive and defending...the South.
In particular during the soccer match of my best friend B's oldest daughter (who's 10) I was introduced to a variety of Bay Area soccer parents, who were all super friendly. My friend B introduced me as her "best friend from North Carolina"--which I used to feel (when she did this after I first moved to NC) to be not quite accurate, but as more time has passed, I realize that for the time being, I am definitely staying put and that it's true that I am "from" North Carolina since my husband, dog, house, and job are all in NC.
So what I got from every person I met was this "Oh, let me give you some advice about things to see/do/eat"--and then I'd explain that I actually grew up in Hayward and went to UCSB (which is where I met B). And at that point in the conversation (and I had this conversation with over a dozen soccer parents because we got there early and I got introduced to a lot of folks) was something along the lines of:
"Oh, you must be relieved not to be in the South anymore--it's so racist there!"
"Oh, you must be SO GLAD to be back in California!"
"Wow, what made you live in North Carolina??? I could never leave California!"
"You must be so glad to have some good food while you're here"
"I bet you are so happy to be away from the South and back in a more liberal place"
[this, was especially meant in light of the recent Amendment One debacle]
"You could never get me living outside the Bay Area, especially not in the South!"
Now, each and every time I got this reaction, I was very polite, but also firmly said things like,
"Actually, the county I live in voted 69% against Amendment One"
"I live in a very liberal college town and feel really comfortable there--and there's racism everywhere"
"The town I live in has a very good local food movement and was voted in the top 5 best small towns to eat in by Bon Appetite"
"I actually really like where I live, and Southern U. is a great school"
What I found myself doing, in other words, was defending the South. Perhaps what I was doing was defending my own little corner of the South, but none-the-less, I felt like I had to correct the stereotypes, misperceptions, and arrogance of my questioners. Especially since my husband is born and bred in this area (I do refer to him as Southern Man for a reason), and he speaks with a Southern accent, as do his family. As do many of my students, friends, and neighbors.
The thing is, I was one of those people not too long ago. I would have said any or all of those things. And I'm embarrassed and slightly ashamed about what a snob I was--about how condescending I was about anything that was outside of my California bubble.
And I must say that in terms of a more nuanced understanding of race relations, of stereotypes, of white privilege and class privilege and all of those intersections (like regional privilege), confronting my own misperceptions and misconceptions of the South has made me a better anti-racist educator. It has made me aware of the ways that I have stereotyped and typecast people with a southern accent. It had made me realize the prejudices that people outside the South has for anyone who drinks sweet tea (and doesn't realize there's any other kind of way to drink iced tea) and that it's still OK to make fun of people from the South.
Don't get me wrong--the South is far, FAR, from perfect. There are a lot of ass-backwards things going on here (Amendment One???)--but there are ass-backwards things going on in the Northeast, the West, and the Midwest. Anti-gay legislation and bullying happens everywhere. Racism happens everywhere. Yes, there aren't as many Asian Americans here, and that's something that I feel sad about, personally and professionally. But I also believe in the words of Gandhi:
"Be the change you want to see in the world."
And so, for the time being, I will be revel in my California vacation. I will soak up the sun (it's 68, sunny, with a slight breeze and a few wispy clouds in the sky). I will bask in my family and friends. And I will go home to my little corner of the South, and I will work to change the things I think need changing and to celebrate the fact that I have new family and friends to form my southern community, and that I can do my anti-racist educating in the South with a better understanding of having been born and bred outside this place I now call home.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
It's about human rights -- the right to love whomever you choose
This morning the interview that President Barack Obama gave with Good Morning American anchor, Robin Roberts -- the one in which he came out in support of same-sex marriages -- aired. If you missed it, you can find it on the link below (which will open in a separate window):
GMA video interview with President Obama
This past Tuesday, May 8, the state that I live in, North Carolina, passed an amendment (Amendment One) that stipulates that marriage be defined as between one man and one woman only--all other unions will not be recognized (and ostensibly protected) under the law.
I should also note that there was a link made between Amendment One (which, as many people have noted harms not just gay and lesbian couples but many different types of unions that aren't traditional marriage, although I think it's important to remember that the bigotry behind this is really anti-queer) and white supremacy. The wife of the politician who is spearheading this amendment, Jodie Brunstetter, had this to say about the rationale behind her husband's push for the amendment:
The idea that we could legislate love--the idea that we could codify bigotry into our legal system, dictating to people the race of the person they were allowed to marry--this idea seems completely antiquated and backwards to most anyone under the age of 22 (and for most folks over the age of 22 I'd wager). The idea that it was illegal to marry someone of a different race just 40 years ago seems so preposterous--like living in an era before the telephone (let alone internet wifi accessibility).
Some time in the not too distant future, younger generations will look back on the year 2012 and will be AMAZED that it was a big deal that a sitting president went on national t.v. to declare his support for same-sex marriages. Younger generations will look back on us with shock and horror--they will not understand how North Carolina could have passed an amendment that would prevent a gay or lesbian couple from marrying and raising their children (if they choose to have children).
A mixed race America is an inclusive America. And the issue of whether gay and lesbian couples can or should marry is one that each couple should have the right to make for themselves. Because choosing who you want to love and spend the rest of your life with strikes me as one of the basic things we get to do as human beings. And having that union be recognized legally as marriage strikes me as one of the fundamental freedoms that we should extend to people in a democratic society.
At the end of the day this isn't about queer rights or civil rights. This is about human rights--the rights of humans to choose who they want to love and the right to have their government and society recognize this as marriage.
[Aside: I've been pretty despondent about Amendment One passing in the state that I now call home. However, a friend of mine sent me the video below about how this is not the end and about how allies of various social justice communities have come together to fight against Amendment One and that we will keep fighting together. And I have to say that I am very proud to be living in one of 6 counties in this state that defeated Amendment One--in fact the county I live in had 79% of people voting against the Amendment--which makes me very proud indeed. The fight is not over.]
GMA video interview with President Obama
This past Tuesday, May 8, the state that I live in, North Carolina, passed an amendment (Amendment One) that stipulates that marriage be defined as between one man and one woman only--all other unions will not be recognized (and ostensibly protected) under the law.
I should also note that there was a link made between Amendment One (which, as many people have noted harms not just gay and lesbian couples but many different types of unions that aren't traditional marriage, although I think it's important to remember that the bigotry behind this is really anti-queer) and white supremacy. The wife of the politician who is spearheading this amendment, Jodie Brunstetter, had this to say about the rationale behind her husband's push for the amendment:
"The reason my husband wrote Amendment 1 was because the Caucasian race is diminishing and we need to uh, reproduce."Nearly four years ago I wrote about the connection between anti-miscegenation laws and anti-same-sex marriage laws (click here). But it bears repeating.
The idea that we could legislate love--the idea that we could codify bigotry into our legal system, dictating to people the race of the person they were allowed to marry--this idea seems completely antiquated and backwards to most anyone under the age of 22 (and for most folks over the age of 22 I'd wager). The idea that it was illegal to marry someone of a different race just 40 years ago seems so preposterous--like living in an era before the telephone (let alone internet wifi accessibility).
Some time in the not too distant future, younger generations will look back on the year 2012 and will be AMAZED that it was a big deal that a sitting president went on national t.v. to declare his support for same-sex marriages. Younger generations will look back on us with shock and horror--they will not understand how North Carolina could have passed an amendment that would prevent a gay or lesbian couple from marrying and raising their children (if they choose to have children).
A mixed race America is an inclusive America. And the issue of whether gay and lesbian couples can or should marry is one that each couple should have the right to make for themselves. Because choosing who you want to love and spend the rest of your life with strikes me as one of the basic things we get to do as human beings. And having that union be recognized legally as marriage strikes me as one of the fundamental freedoms that we should extend to people in a democratic society.
At the end of the day this isn't about queer rights or civil rights. This is about human rights--the rights of humans to choose who they want to love and the right to have their government and society recognize this as marriage.
[Aside: I've been pretty despondent about Amendment One passing in the state that I now call home. However, a friend of mine sent me the video below about how this is not the end and about how allies of various social justice communities have come together to fight against Amendment One and that we will keep fighting together. And I have to say that I am very proud to be living in one of 6 counties in this state that defeated Amendment One--in fact the county I live in had 79% of people voting against the Amendment--which makes me very proud indeed. The fight is not over.]
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Authentically Asian American?
Happy May Day! It's awfully embarrassing to realize that it's been A FULL MONTH since I last wrote a post (sigh). Do I have any readers out there anymore??? I have found that multi-tasking is something that I'm unable to do anymore post-chemo. And my energy level isn't what it was pre-cancer diagnosis. Sometimes I think these are excuses I make for myself. And then I think, my body went through a lot of trauma, so why not just cut myself slack?
Anyway, that's the rationale/excuse/reason for my not writing more--I've been tired and been trying to keep my head above water with the other commitments I have going on in my life. And I'm sure all of you can understand that because I'm sure you are also trying to keep your head above water.
I'm actually at Williams College right now--I just gave a talk about what it means to be "authentically" Asian American -- and don't worry, it was not a workshop meant to give students a list of all the things they should be doing to be considered an authentic Asian American. Instead, it was a workshop meant to provoke and dismantle the idea of "authenticity" -- or at the very least to trouble the notion of authenticity.
At one point I had two lists on the chalkboard--one with traits and characteristics of "authentic" Asian Americans and one with traits and characteristics of "inauthentic" Asian Americans. And as I demonstrated at the end of the exercise, we can all fit into both categories. I use chopsticks (check authenticity box) but I am not fluent in an Asian language (check inauthenticity box) and I'm married to a white man (this was a little contentious--some students thought this was something that made you authentic and some students thought it signaled inauthenticity--all the more reason to understand the troubling nature of creating such lists).
We also talked about the difficulty of coalition building among Asian Americans and the lack of a discernible Asian American culture--what, exactly, brings Asian Americans together? We do share the common language of English, but unlike the majority of Latinos in the U.S., we don't share a secondary language/culture (although we should remember that Latinos are not a monolithic, "hispanic" origin group and while many do come from Spanish-language backgrounds, different Spanish speaking countries have different words/slang/expressions--and we shouldn't forget about Brazil or indigenous Latin Americans).
So what exactly brings Asian Americans together as common cause?
Jeremy Lin.
Yep, Jeremy Lin's name came up as someone that various Asian Americans, regardless of ethnic nationality/culture could all get behind. One Korean American student admitted that his father, who is not known to root for Chinese people or celebrate Chinese accomplishments nor is a big basketball fan, began watching Knicks games and rooting for Jeremy Lin. This was echoed by all the students at this workshop.
Which brings me to this very astute and moving piece by a former student of mine, Matthew Salesses:
"DIFFERENT RACISMS: On Jeremy Lin and How the Rules of Racism are Different for Asian Americans"
About 2 months ago, Matt got in touch with me over email and was kind enough to send me the link to the piece he wrote about Jeremy Lin and what Lin means for Matt and other Asian Americans, especially other Asian American men.
As you'll see by Matt's piece, he's an incredible writer and you should definitely check out his website and his writing (click here).
Matt explains, in very personal terms, what it means for him to be Asian American--for him to grapple with that term and to figure out whether he wants to embrace that racial marker--as he writes in his piece,
"I was taking the AA course to find out what I was."
I know that feeling. I remember vividly my first Asian American studies course and that moment of discovery--the moment of feeling like finally I was being reflected in the syllabus. It's a very empowering feeling--and disorienting when you are Asian American because you realize that the rest of your courses and the rest of society doesn't really want to deal with you as an Asian American in the way you want to be dealt with--with full acknowledgement of the way Asian Americans have been racialized and are marginalized into a model minority monolith that remains invisible in plain sight.
I'm humbled by students like the ones I met at Williams and former students like Matt--quite frankly, they're the reason I teach.
Anyway, that's the rationale/excuse/reason for my not writing more--I've been tired and been trying to keep my head above water with the other commitments I have going on in my life. And I'm sure all of you can understand that because I'm sure you are also trying to keep your head above water.
I'm actually at Williams College right now--I just gave a talk about what it means to be "authentically" Asian American -- and don't worry, it was not a workshop meant to give students a list of all the things they should be doing to be considered an authentic Asian American. Instead, it was a workshop meant to provoke and dismantle the idea of "authenticity" -- or at the very least to trouble the notion of authenticity.
At one point I had two lists on the chalkboard--one with traits and characteristics of "authentic" Asian Americans and one with traits and characteristics of "inauthentic" Asian Americans. And as I demonstrated at the end of the exercise, we can all fit into both categories. I use chopsticks (check authenticity box) but I am not fluent in an Asian language (check inauthenticity box) and I'm married to a white man (this was a little contentious--some students thought this was something that made you authentic and some students thought it signaled inauthenticity--all the more reason to understand the troubling nature of creating such lists).
We also talked about the difficulty of coalition building among Asian Americans and the lack of a discernible Asian American culture--what, exactly, brings Asian Americans together? We do share the common language of English, but unlike the majority of Latinos in the U.S., we don't share a secondary language/culture (although we should remember that Latinos are not a monolithic, "hispanic" origin group and while many do come from Spanish-language backgrounds, different Spanish speaking countries have different words/slang/expressions--and we shouldn't forget about Brazil or indigenous Latin Americans).
So what exactly brings Asian Americans together as common cause?
Jeremy Lin.
Yep, Jeremy Lin's name came up as someone that various Asian Americans, regardless of ethnic nationality/culture could all get behind. One Korean American student admitted that his father, who is not known to root for Chinese people or celebrate Chinese accomplishments nor is a big basketball fan, began watching Knicks games and rooting for Jeremy Lin. This was echoed by all the students at this workshop.
Which brings me to this very astute and moving piece by a former student of mine, Matthew Salesses:
"DIFFERENT RACISMS: On Jeremy Lin and How the Rules of Racism are Different for Asian Americans"
About 2 months ago, Matt got in touch with me over email and was kind enough to send me the link to the piece he wrote about Jeremy Lin and what Lin means for Matt and other Asian Americans, especially other Asian American men.
As you'll see by Matt's piece, he's an incredible writer and you should definitely check out his website and his writing (click here).
Matt explains, in very personal terms, what it means for him to be Asian American--for him to grapple with that term and to figure out whether he wants to embrace that racial marker--as he writes in his piece,
"I was taking the AA course to find out what I was."
I know that feeling. I remember vividly my first Asian American studies course and that moment of discovery--the moment of feeling like finally I was being reflected in the syllabus. It's a very empowering feeling--and disorienting when you are Asian American because you realize that the rest of your courses and the rest of society doesn't really want to deal with you as an Asian American in the way you want to be dealt with--with full acknowledgement of the way Asian Americans have been racialized and are marginalized into a model minority monolith that remains invisible in plain sight.
I'm humbled by students like the ones I met at Williams and former students like Matt--quite frankly, they're the reason I teach.
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