To close out APA Heritage/History Month, I want to give you the text of a speech by Jennifer Hyashida, which she made to City Hall in NYC. I know Jennifer--she is an AMAZING scholar-activist. Her words are truly inspiration and the perfect note to end APA Heritage Month:
2009 APA Heritage Month Celebration
Wednesday, May 13th, 2009
City Council Chambers, City Hall, New York City
Jennifer Hayashida
I am here as an educator at Hunter College, where I have been the Program Coordinator and Acting Director of Asian American Studies for the past two years. So, here’s the good news: about 30% of Hunter’s student body self-identifies as Asian or Asian American. And, the entire CUNY system serves more than 40,000 Asian American students – taken together, that’s as many students as there are enrolled at most large state schools, like one of the larger Penn State campuses, or UCLA.
But, it’s not just about the numbers: Asian American Studies is about more than just serving percentages of Asian American students – it is about how Asian American history is American history, Asian American experience is American experience.
To list just a fraction of what we do in Asian American Studies classes at Hunter, we study the relationships between first generation parents and their second-generation daughters and sons – in other words, we study the lives of you many of you in this room. We look at novels and poetry by Asian American writers; we look at how what happens in Pakistan impacts Asian American communities right here in New York City.
To sum it up, we look at events and experiences from U.S. history that are frequently overlooked or given just one page in the high school history textbook. These big gaps in what students learn lead to gaps in how they experience themselves as Asian Americans – just that term, “Asian American,” means that we insist that we can be both Asian AND American, that we do not have to choose between being foreign and being the invisible model minority. We began this struggle 40 years ago at San Francisco State College, and we still have a lot of work ahead of us.
Right now, I frequently have students who enter my classes with no idea about the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, WWII Internment of Japanese Americans, or hate crimes against Filipino men who wanted to marry white women in the 30s. Students don’t know that Chinese Exclusion is a precedent for the Patriot Act, that Japanese Internment predates post-9/11 detention and deportation of South Asians. Students don’t know that Depression-era anti-miscegenation legislation against Asian Americans is currently being examined as part of the legal debate around gay marriage.
Asian American history and experience – our “heritage” – is a cornerstone of American history and identity, but right now it is buried and inaccessible to most of the students, Asian American or not, of our city.
This knowledge is especially vital to our young people who are arriving as first- or 1.5- generation immigrants, who find themselves between cultures and identities, and who are struggling to find a place where they don’t have to pick between being foreigners or being invisible. Learning about their ancestors’ experiences gives them a foothold in America. And, just as importantly, learning about Asian American history can build bridges between Asian Americans and other communities of color.
It is our responsibility to advocate for the rights of our daughters, sons, nieces, nephews, cousins, and, for that matter, fathers and grandmothers, to be able to attend schools in this city and expect to learn about APA heritage, the heritage we are here today to celebrate. That way, we can celebrate the triumphs of people like Fred Korematsu, who ultimately received justice from the Supreme Court, fifty years after he was jailed for refusing to be interned. Or we can celebrate the 1965 Immigration Act, which eliminated the restrictions on immigration from Asia and made it possible for many of us to be here today. Most importantly, we can then truly celebrate the everyday accomplishments of the communities we live in today, because we will have a better understanding of where we come from, the obstacles we have triumphed over, and the work that is left before us.
[Tip of the hat to Angry Asian Man]
[REMEMBER: Today is the last day to post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Urban spaces
I'm currently in NYC (I've been here since Wednesday with sporadic email/internet access--in case anyone is wondering, Blogger allows you to write posts and set a timer on them so they'll pop up sometime in the future, which is how I've managed to keep the blog populated even while I'm out and about). I'm here for both pleasure and business, but really, just walking around the city (Manhattan in this case) is really pleasurable, for me, because I have missed being in urban spaces.
I think urban spaces get a bad rap a lot of time. And truth be told, as much as I love visiting NYC and other big cities, I don't think I am the kind of person who thrives in urban spaces. Maybe it's the sensory overload. Let me give you an example.
When I first arrived in midtown Manhattan, I dropped my stuff off with my cousin "C" and headed out to just walk the streets and absorb some atmosphere. And my jaunt took me in about a 20 block circle (or square--Manhattan is pretty much laid out on a grid), and I was struck by how different the experience is of walking in the city versus walking in my sleepy Southern college town. The size and density of the buildings is one obvious difference, as is the size and density of the people walking about on the sidewalks. In fact, I deliberately walked through Times Square to get a sense of being in the middle of a throng. And it was a throng--I've never known Times Square not to be humming with people, and this day was no exception. And being in the middle of Times Square is to be in the middle of sensory overload. There are so many sights to take in--the people, the buildings, the bill boards, the lights, the huge screens flashing scenes from ads and movie trailers. The scents: you can imagine that they run the gamut of food scents and human scents (I have to say that one of the things I've always noticed about NYC is that there is a persistent smell of urine, whether of dog, human, or horse, never quite clear, but it overlays everything). The sounds: cars honking, police whistles, human conversation, and just the low level buzz of electricity--because there is so much electricity being pumped into this one section of NYC.
It was exhilarating and exhausting. And it does make me wonder about whether I could ever see myself living in urban spaces like NYC. Because on the one hand, there is so much that is exciting about living in a city--so much to take in. And lets be frank--there's so much diversity. NYC is diversity central on many, MANY fronts. But there is also part of me that feels tired being here. And I wonder what kind of toll that would take on me to be here day in and day out.
I think urban spaces get a bad rap a lot of time. And truth be told, as much as I love visiting NYC and other big cities, I don't think I am the kind of person who thrives in urban spaces. Maybe it's the sensory overload. Let me give you an example.
When I first arrived in midtown Manhattan, I dropped my stuff off with my cousin "C" and headed out to just walk the streets and absorb some atmosphere. And my jaunt took me in about a 20 block circle (or square--Manhattan is pretty much laid out on a grid), and I was struck by how different the experience is of walking in the city versus walking in my sleepy Southern college town. The size and density of the buildings is one obvious difference, as is the size and density of the people walking about on the sidewalks. In fact, I deliberately walked through Times Square to get a sense of being in the middle of a throng. And it was a throng--I've never known Times Square not to be humming with people, and this day was no exception. And being in the middle of Times Square is to be in the middle of sensory overload. There are so many sights to take in--the people, the buildings, the bill boards, the lights, the huge screens flashing scenes from ads and movie trailers. The scents: you can imagine that they run the gamut of food scents and human scents (I have to say that one of the things I've always noticed about NYC is that there is a persistent smell of urine, whether of dog, human, or horse, never quite clear, but it overlays everything). The sounds: cars honking, police whistles, human conversation, and just the low level buzz of electricity--because there is so much electricity being pumped into this one section of NYC.
It was exhilarating and exhausting. And it does make me wonder about whether I could ever see myself living in urban spaces like NYC. Because on the one hand, there is so much that is exciting about living in a city--so much to take in. And lets be frank--there's so much diversity. NYC is diversity central on many, MANY fronts. But there is also part of me that feels tired being here. And I wonder what kind of toll that would take on me to be here day in and day out.
Friday, May 29, 2009
When to confront someone
The other day I was remarking to Southern Man that most people were non-confrontational; most people do not like to tell someone, directly, that they are upset by something s/he said. How and why I arrived at this observation is too long and convoluted to share (and a bit boring) so I'll just skip to the second part, which is that I read this post last week in Anti-Racist Parent by the blogger of Snarky Momma titled "Tiny Acts of Activism." In this post, Tiffany describes the small acts of activism that she (and others) are capable of by simply chiming in with, in her words, "gentle statements in everyday conversation" (click here to read the entire post).
And it got me thinking about the small things that people who are non-confrontational or who profess to be non-confrontational can do to help speak truth to power or work towards anti-racist practices (as well as other forms of social justice). Confronting someone when they make a racist statement or when you think someone is being racially insensitive doesn't have to be uncomfortable and it certainly doesn't mean you tell the person you think they are a racist (I've already discussed how using the "R" word, for me, isn't the path I choose when talking about racism since I've seen how people shut down the minute the word is introduced). But I do think it's important for us to speak up when we can. And I think it's important for us--those of us who want to walk the walk and not just talk the talk--to push our comfort zones in terms of when we are willing to confront something we believe is offensive.
I am a fairly direct person, and I will, in social settings, tell someone if I think their point-of-view offends me (Want proof? Go to the previous paragraph and click on the link where I say I've already discussed using the "R" word--I describe a very direct confrontation with WIWL (well intentioned white liberal) that was so intense that the friends who were at this party STILL tease me about it to this day). But I didn't pop out of the womb this angry Asian woman pointing my finger at people's chests and getting righteous on them (and truth be told, I'm really not like that--my own pedagogical style in the classroom is pretty much the opposite of cornering someone). I am not sure when I realized that I COULD speak--that I could chime up and say something. I don't think it was a sudden "AHA!" moment but more a gradual realization that not saying something, for me, was worse than saying something. That having that pit in my stomach after walking away from a situation in which someone said something racist was just the worst feeling in the world--and I would play that tape in my head over and over--the one where you step back in time and get to say the zinger that you thought up an hour ago--the one you didn't say because you were either too shocked, too afraid, too worried of hurting the person's feelings or causing a scene, or because you just didn't know WHAT to say.
And here's the thing I learned from my friend "J" while in grad school--that it's never too late. It's never too late to go back to the person, esp. if it's someone you know (and like) and open up that topic of conversation. It's never too late to write a letter to the museum about the docent who kept referring to Asian peopple as "Oriental" and who made you feel targeted and uncomfortable during the tour.* And it's never too late to decide that you can be an activist in whatever way is comfortable for you, right now, with the hope that you will be able to really speak truth to power when it counts so that you don't have that awful pit in your stomach wishing you had said something.
It's also never too late to expand the circle of what you find offensive. In the comment section of Tiffany's post, I realized that I am more inclined to confront racist rather than sexist or homophobic behavior. The "why" is probably a great question and something I need to examine further (and probably will in a future post) but what is most helpful, for me, is knowing that I want to be someone who walks the walk and dosn't just talk the talk. I want to be a queer ally and to stand up for my own rights as a woman and a feminist. And so I need to be speaking out more not less, in ways that people will be able to hear me, hopefully--because I AM a confrontation person. And by that, I mean that I just can't live with that sickening feeling in my stomach any longer--and I'm so glad that I've figured out that I don't have to.
*This is a real incident that happened to me while in grad school; on the urging of my friend "J" I wrote a letter to the museum about how uncomfortable I was by the docent's language and treatment of me (every time she pointed out a work of "Asian" art she turned to me and asked me what it meant--WTF???). 3 days after I mailed the letter, I got a phone call from the director of the museum apologizing to me and telling me that the docent (whom they had had complaints about by others for different reasons) would be spoken to, again, and welcoming me back for another tour whenever I was free. It really made me feel glad I had said/written something.
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
And it got me thinking about the small things that people who are non-confrontational or who profess to be non-confrontational can do to help speak truth to power or work towards anti-racist practices (as well as other forms of social justice). Confronting someone when they make a racist statement or when you think someone is being racially insensitive doesn't have to be uncomfortable and it certainly doesn't mean you tell the person you think they are a racist (I've already discussed how using the "R" word, for me, isn't the path I choose when talking about racism since I've seen how people shut down the minute the word is introduced). But I do think it's important for us to speak up when we can. And I think it's important for us--those of us who want to walk the walk and not just talk the talk--to push our comfort zones in terms of when we are willing to confront something we believe is offensive.
I am a fairly direct person, and I will, in social settings, tell someone if I think their point-of-view offends me (Want proof? Go to the previous paragraph and click on the link where I say I've already discussed using the "R" word--I describe a very direct confrontation with WIWL (well intentioned white liberal) that was so intense that the friends who were at this party STILL tease me about it to this day). But I didn't pop out of the womb this angry Asian woman pointing my finger at people's chests and getting righteous on them (and truth be told, I'm really not like that--my own pedagogical style in the classroom is pretty much the opposite of cornering someone). I am not sure when I realized that I COULD speak--that I could chime up and say something. I don't think it was a sudden "AHA!" moment but more a gradual realization that not saying something, for me, was worse than saying something. That having that pit in my stomach after walking away from a situation in which someone said something racist was just the worst feeling in the world--and I would play that tape in my head over and over--the one where you step back in time and get to say the zinger that you thought up an hour ago--the one you didn't say because you were either too shocked, too afraid, too worried of hurting the person's feelings or causing a scene, or because you just didn't know WHAT to say.
And here's the thing I learned from my friend "J" while in grad school--that it's never too late. It's never too late to go back to the person, esp. if it's someone you know (and like) and open up that topic of conversation. It's never too late to write a letter to the museum about the docent who kept referring to Asian peopple as "Oriental" and who made you feel targeted and uncomfortable during the tour.* And it's never too late to decide that you can be an activist in whatever way is comfortable for you, right now, with the hope that you will be able to really speak truth to power when it counts so that you don't have that awful pit in your stomach wishing you had said something.
It's also never too late to expand the circle of what you find offensive. In the comment section of Tiffany's post, I realized that I am more inclined to confront racist rather than sexist or homophobic behavior. The "why" is probably a great question and something I need to examine further (and probably will in a future post) but what is most helpful, for me, is knowing that I want to be someone who walks the walk and dosn't just talk the talk. I want to be a queer ally and to stand up for my own rights as a woman and a feminist. And so I need to be speaking out more not less, in ways that people will be able to hear me, hopefully--because I AM a confrontation person. And by that, I mean that I just can't live with that sickening feeling in my stomach any longer--and I'm so glad that I've figured out that I don't have to.
*This is a real incident that happened to me while in grad school; on the urging of my friend "J" I wrote a letter to the museum about how uncomfortable I was by the docent's language and treatment of me (every time she pointed out a work of "Asian" art she turned to me and asked me what it meant--WTF???). 3 days after I mailed the letter, I got a phone call from the director of the museum apologizing to me and telling me that the docent (whom they had had complaints about by others for different reasons) would be spoken to, again, and welcoming me back for another tour whenever I was free. It really made me feel glad I had said/written something.
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
Thursday, May 28, 2009
R.I.P.: Him Mark Lai and Ronald Takaki
Two giants in the field of Asian American studies...two men who helped to create Asian American studies, who researched, recorded, wrote, taught, lectured, and talked about the importance of understanding the history and significance of Asians in American life over the last two centuries, passed away in the last week.
Him Mark Lai, known as the "dean" of Asian American history, died on May 21, 2009. Ronald Takaki, a pioneer in the field of not only Asian American history, but multicultural history and just plain old American history, died on May 26, 2009.
I chose this photo of Him Mark Lai because it is emblematic of the work that he did for the field of Asian American studies--behind him is a small fraction of the works he collected over his lifetime--works in both Chinese and English that documented the Chinese in America. Over time his research interests would broaden to include other Asian ethnic groups as well as understanding the roots of racial prejudice against Asians in American and his work to combat this prejudice. There are those in the academy who scoff at "independent scholars"; Him Mark Lai was trained as an engineer but his passion was history and he will be known as an archivist par excellence.
Click here for a Hyphen Magazine piece celebrating his life and here for an article on him on the National Archives website.
I had the pleasure of meeting Ronald Takaki at a book signing in Harvard Square when I was in grad school. It was the only time I've been at a book signing when we had to stop because there was a disturbed person who kept interrupting the author. Throughout the whole strange altercation, Dr. Takaki kept his cool--he even wanted to hear what the guy had to say (when it was clear that the guy was hostile and probably mentally ill). I'll never forget that talk, not only because it was the only talk I attended in which the police had to come and escort someone out of the building but because through it all, Ronald Takaki kept his composure, was gracious, and even funny after the fact, in a self-deprecating way (I think he made a quip about hoping the guy wasn't a reviewer from one of the major newspapers).
I have read, cover to cover, Strangers from a Different Shore. It is a work of both depth and breath, which is a hard feat to manage, especially in a field like Asian American history. He will be sorely missed for his many academic contributions, but he will be remembered as a historian who pushed others to really comprehend the important place of Asian Americans and other people of color as being a crucial but underrepresented slice of American history. Click here on a piece by Asian Week honoring Dr. Takaki's life--they will be running a series of pieces on him throughout the week.
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
Him Mark Lai, known as the "dean" of Asian American history, died on May 21, 2009. Ronald Takaki, a pioneer in the field of not only Asian American history, but multicultural history and just plain old American history, died on May 26, 2009.
I chose this photo of Him Mark Lai because it is emblematic of the work that he did for the field of Asian American studies--behind him is a small fraction of the works he collected over his lifetime--works in both Chinese and English that documented the Chinese in America. Over time his research interests would broaden to include other Asian ethnic groups as well as understanding the roots of racial prejudice against Asians in American and his work to combat this prejudice. There are those in the academy who scoff at "independent scholars"; Him Mark Lai was trained as an engineer but his passion was history and he will be known as an archivist par excellence.
Click here for a Hyphen Magazine piece celebrating his life and here for an article on him on the National Archives website.
I had the pleasure of meeting Ronald Takaki at a book signing in Harvard Square when I was in grad school. It was the only time I've been at a book signing when we had to stop because there was a disturbed person who kept interrupting the author. Throughout the whole strange altercation, Dr. Takaki kept his cool--he even wanted to hear what the guy had to say (when it was clear that the guy was hostile and probably mentally ill). I'll never forget that talk, not only because it was the only talk I attended in which the police had to come and escort someone out of the building but because through it all, Ronald Takaki kept his composure, was gracious, and even funny after the fact, in a self-deprecating way (I think he made a quip about hoping the guy wasn't a reviewer from one of the major newspapers).
I have read, cover to cover, Strangers from a Different Shore. It is a work of both depth and breath, which is a hard feat to manage, especially in a field like Asian American history. He will be sorely missed for his many academic contributions, but he will be remembered as a historian who pushed others to really comprehend the important place of Asian Americans and other people of color as being a crucial but underrepresented slice of American history. Click here on a piece by Asian Week honoring Dr. Takaki's life--they will be running a series of pieces on him throughout the week.
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Pictures speak louder than words
This photo speaks volumes. And it demonstrates the power of having an African American man in the Oval Office:
Taken from the Official White House photostream on Flickr, with the following caption:
[Tip of the hat to Anti-Racist Parent]
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
Taken from the Official White House photostream on Flickr, with the following caption:
President Barack Obama bends over so the son of a White House staff member can pat his head during a family visit to the Oval Office May 8, 2009. The youngster wanted to see if the President's haircut felt like his own. (Official White House Photo by Pete Souza)
[Tip of the hat to Anti-Racist Parent]
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Kip Fulbeck: speaking his truth to power
Since this blog is called Mixed Race America and it's Asian Pacific American Heritage Month, then it's appropriate to recognize a scholar-activist-artist who has spent his career talking about, writing about, teaching about mixed-race issues: Kip Fulbeck.
"My World" -- Kip Fulbeck
It's Kip Fulbeck's world: the rest of us are just passing through.
For more on Kip Fulbeck (mixed-race spoken word artist and kick-ass Asian American professor at my alma mater) click here.
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
"My World" -- Kip Fulbeck
It's Kip Fulbeck's world: the rest of us are just passing through.
For more on Kip Fulbeck (mixed-race spoken word artist and kick-ass Asian American professor at my alma mater) click here.
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
Friday, May 22, 2009
T.G.I.F.: Helen Zia
I should begin this post by disclosing that I know the subject of today's T.G.I.F. (The Great Impossible Feat). But this is not why I've chosen to talk about Helen Zia today. Helen Zia is an Asian American activist par excellence. She most famously is tied to Vincent Chin--fighting for justice on his behalf. She was featured prominently in Christine Choy and Renee Tajima's excellent documentary Who Killed Vincent Chin? (by the way, if you haven't seen this documentary, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND IT, although truth be told, it will be hard to find outside of indie video rental shops or college/university libraries).
The first time I met her was when she came up to me after I delivered a conference paper on R. Kelly and The Matrix called "From R. Kelly to Keanu Reeves: Asian influences in American Pop Culture" (to be honest, I'm not sure if this is the exact title, but I know that the title had both R. Kelly and Keanu Reeves in the title, which made people scratch their heads since this was an academic conference). I saw her walk into the room and was pleased that she stayed for our panel and then shocked when she came up to me afterwards and asked for my card because she liked my paper! You have to understand: I am a total academic geek. So Helen Zia coming up to me at the end of a conference panel and telling me she wanted my card would be the equivalent of having George Clooney or Helen Mirren coming up to you and asking you for your autograph--you'd be speechless (and I nearly was).
So why was I so thrilled? Because I want to be Helen Zia when I grow up. Seriously. This woman was a community organizer in Detroit back in the day when we had no idea what a community organizer was. She was on the front lines of fighting for social justice in the Vincent Chin case, but has also continued to fight for social justice for many causes, like women's rights (she was an executive editor at Ms. Magazine), queer rights, Asian Americans falsely accused of espionage, like scientist Wen Ho Lee (she helped co-author Lee's My Country Versus Me), civil rights (she has testified to Congress about racial impacts in news media) and the connection between race and gender (which came about from her research on women who join neo-Nazi organizations). She is also clearly in support of gay marriages since she was featured on the cover of the New York Times as one of the first couples to be married to her long-time partner Lia Shigemura in 2008 when California, for a brief and shining moment, allowed gay marriage in the state (she and Lia also married in 2004 when Mayor Gavin Newsom allowed marriages to occur in SF City Hall).
[Helen and Lia at their 2008 wedding at SF City Hall]
Plus, she is the author of an incredible book: Asian American Dreams: The Emergence of an American People. I had the privilege of introducing Helen at a book reading at the latest American Literature Association conference.
When Helen talked about writing this book and finding a publisher for the book, she talked candidly about wanting to tell a story, private yet public, personal yet global, about Asian American experiences that reflected the reality of Asian American life, which means talking about queer Asian Americans and her own experiences as a lesbian and coming-out. And her book talks about gender, class, racism, and a host of other topics in an organic and empowering way.
Helen Zia continues to be a scholar and activist and journalist and a woman who wants others to be involved--like most recently with this video she did on behalf of AAPI Momentum encouraging APA people to get involved and volunteer the week of May 24-31 as part of AAPI Week of Service:
[Tip of the hat to Angry Asian Man]
Helen Zia inspires me to want to work on behalf of social justice issues; her dedication and devotion to multiple causes is admirable. Like I said, I want to be Helen Zia when I grow up. Which is why she gets the T.G.I.F. award for not just talking the talk but walking the walk of social justice as a life-long activist.
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
The first time I met her was when she came up to me after I delivered a conference paper on R. Kelly and The Matrix called "From R. Kelly to Keanu Reeves: Asian influences in American Pop Culture" (to be honest, I'm not sure if this is the exact title, but I know that the title had both R. Kelly and Keanu Reeves in the title, which made people scratch their heads since this was an academic conference). I saw her walk into the room and was pleased that she stayed for our panel and then shocked when she came up to me afterwards and asked for my card because she liked my paper! You have to understand: I am a total academic geek. So Helen Zia coming up to me at the end of a conference panel and telling me she wanted my card would be the equivalent of having George Clooney or Helen Mirren coming up to you and asking you for your autograph--you'd be speechless (and I nearly was).
So why was I so thrilled? Because I want to be Helen Zia when I grow up. Seriously. This woman was a community organizer in Detroit back in the day when we had no idea what a community organizer was. She was on the front lines of fighting for social justice in the Vincent Chin case, but has also continued to fight for social justice for many causes, like women's rights (she was an executive editor at Ms. Magazine), queer rights, Asian Americans falsely accused of espionage, like scientist Wen Ho Lee (she helped co-author Lee's My Country Versus Me), civil rights (she has testified to Congress about racial impacts in news media) and the connection between race and gender (which came about from her research on women who join neo-Nazi organizations). She is also clearly in support of gay marriages since she was featured on the cover of the New York Times as one of the first couples to be married to her long-time partner Lia Shigemura in 2008 when California, for a brief and shining moment, allowed gay marriage in the state (she and Lia also married in 2004 when Mayor Gavin Newsom allowed marriages to occur in SF City Hall).
[Helen and Lia at their 2008 wedding at SF City Hall]
Plus, she is the author of an incredible book: Asian American Dreams: The Emergence of an American People. I had the privilege of introducing Helen at a book reading at the latest American Literature Association conference.
When Helen talked about writing this book and finding a publisher for the book, she talked candidly about wanting to tell a story, private yet public, personal yet global, about Asian American experiences that reflected the reality of Asian American life, which means talking about queer Asian Americans and her own experiences as a lesbian and coming-out. And her book talks about gender, class, racism, and a host of other topics in an organic and empowering way.
Helen Zia continues to be a scholar and activist and journalist and a woman who wants others to be involved--like most recently with this video she did on behalf of AAPI Momentum encouraging APA people to get involved and volunteer the week of May 24-31 as part of AAPI Week of Service:
[Tip of the hat to Angry Asian Man]
Helen Zia inspires me to want to work on behalf of social justice issues; her dedication and devotion to multiple causes is admirable. Like I said, I want to be Helen Zia when I grow up. Which is why she gets the T.G.I.F. award for not just talking the talk but walking the walk of social justice as a life-long activist.
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
Thursday, May 21, 2009
2050 here we come!
The Daily Show's Larry Wilmore on the upcoming white minority
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | M - Th 11p / 10c | |||
| White in America - The Children | ||||
| ||||
[REMEMBER: If you post a comment during the month of May (which is APA heritage month) you will be automatically entered to win one of five books donated by Hachette Book Group. Read the May 14 post (scroll to the bottom) to see the details of the books and how to win]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
