64 years ago yesterday on February 21, 1965, Malcolm X was assassinated. Many people know of Malcolm X after reading about his life's story in The Autobiography of Malcolm X. Others have perhaps seen the Spike Lee Bio-pic, Malcolm X. And for a few others, they may have actually had the honor of hearing Malcolm X speak--or perhaps they even knew Malcolm X.
Although Malcolm X is often figured as a radical, particularly in opposition to the way we have sainted Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the truth is, Malcolm X's message of black pride and black strength and black nationalism does not seem out of the ordinary at all--certainly not radical. The idea that an oppressed and disenfranchised minority would finally grow weary of mistreatment by larger institutional forces and would want to fight for basic rights and to assert their essential humanity. This is not a radical idea.
[Aside: One need only look to the recent uprisings in the Middle East to see that people the world over will always try to fight against tyranny when they have been pushed to a breaking point]
Yesterday on The Story with Dick Gordon (and NPR staple in my area) his special guest was Malcolm Shabazz, Malcolm X's grandson. I was, unfortunately, unable to hear the entire interview, but thankfully the entire show is available online (click here) and the part I did catch was apropos, for me, because Malcolm Shabazz recounted how, during his time in prison, friends of his grandfather reached out to him, reminding him of his grandfather's legacy and putting him in touch with other political prisoners--people fighting for justice. The first of his grandfather's friends to send him a letter was Yuri Kochiyama, a close friend of his grandparents and the first person besides Betty Shabazz to rush to Malcolm X's side after he was gunned down. In fact, she started CPR in an effort to keep him alive (this was recounted on The Story).
I had just been talking to my Asian American literature class that the field of Asian American literature and Asian American Studies owe a huge debt to African Americans, particularly those who took part in the Civil Rights movement. Asian Americans and African Americans have a history of shared struggle, which often gets ignored in more sensational and violent conflicts like the Red Apple Boycott or Latasha Harlins.
The legacy of Malcolm X--what his work and words meant--is larger than just his influence on African Americans. His words were for all of us--especially for any group of people who had been oppressed by a majority government and culture. And while it is fitting that I'm writing this post in his honor during African American Heritage and History month, we should be remembering and honoring Malcolm X's legacy every month of the year.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
R.I.P. Hisaye Yamamoto
69 years ago today, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066, which nullified the constitutional rights of every resident (alien and citizen alike) living on the West Coast of the United States. The military, under FDR's direction, interpreted the order such that only Japanese and Japanese American communities were evacuated, en masse, forced to relocate to concentration camps (the term used by FDR's administration) for the duration of WWII.
[Aside: It is true that Italian and German nationals, along with Japanese nationals, were arrested and forced to stay in special detention centers on the suspicion that these men (and almost all of the detained were men) were a threat to national security. However, the only community targeted through their racialized difference were Japanese Americans--no other ethnic community were targeted through exclusion in the way that the Japanese American community was during WWII.]
69 years ago, a young Nisei, Hisaye Yamamoto, and her family, prepared for their internment, eventually being forced into Poston internment camp. Ms. Yamamoto had her first short story published at the age of 14 and continued to write for the camp newspaper while interned at Poston. And upon her release from camp, she wrote for an African American L.A. area newspaper and also published her short fiction in such venues as The Partisan Review.
But it is the publication in 1988 of fifteen of her short stories, collected in Seventeen Syllables and Other Stories, that brought her to the attention of generations of college students who encountered Ms. Yamamoto's writing in their Asian American studies classes. The stories in this collection centered on the Japanese American community, before, during, and after the war, especially noting the racist tensions they faced in their post-war lives.
I was one of a lucky few who had the privilege of hearing Ms. Yamamoto read from her short story collection while I was an undergraduate at UCSB. She was down-to-earth and direct--and I was awed by the fact that a living writer was in our classroom talking about her work with us. I still have my autographed copy of Seventeen Syllables and still remember the good humor and patience with which Ms. Yamamoto handled our questions.
On January 30, 2011 Hisaye Yamamoto passed away in her sleep. She was 89 years old (click here for her LA Times obituary). She was a pioneer in Asian American literature. She was a woman who understood the necessity of being an ally in the Civil Rights movement. She was a witness to history, using her considerable literary talents to tell the stories of the Japanese American community. She will be missed.
[Aside: It is true that Italian and German nationals, along with Japanese nationals, were arrested and forced to stay in special detention centers on the suspicion that these men (and almost all of the detained were men) were a threat to national security. However, the only community targeted through their racialized difference were Japanese Americans--no other ethnic community were targeted through exclusion in the way that the Japanese American community was during WWII.]
69 years ago, a young Nisei, Hisaye Yamamoto, and her family, prepared for their internment, eventually being forced into Poston internment camp. Ms. Yamamoto had her first short story published at the age of 14 and continued to write for the camp newspaper while interned at Poston. And upon her release from camp, she wrote for an African American L.A. area newspaper and also published her short fiction in such venues as The Partisan Review.
But it is the publication in 1988 of fifteen of her short stories, collected in Seventeen Syllables and Other Stories, that brought her to the attention of generations of college students who encountered Ms. Yamamoto's writing in their Asian American studies classes. The stories in this collection centered on the Japanese American community, before, during, and after the war, especially noting the racist tensions they faced in their post-war lives.
I was one of a lucky few who had the privilege of hearing Ms. Yamamoto read from her short story collection while I was an undergraduate at UCSB. She was down-to-earth and direct--and I was awed by the fact that a living writer was in our classroom talking about her work with us. I still have my autographed copy of Seventeen Syllables and still remember the good humor and patience with which Ms. Yamamoto handled our questions.
On January 30, 2011 Hisaye Yamamoto passed away in her sleep. She was 89 years old (click here for her LA Times obituary). She was a pioneer in Asian American literature. She was a woman who understood the necessity of being an ally in the Civil Rights movement. She was a witness to history, using her considerable literary talents to tell the stories of the Japanese American community. She will be missed.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Parody as a form of Flattery (or maybe just historical remembrance)
This is compliments of my friend Crystal (who teaches African American & ethnic American lit), who posted this in honor of black history month on her Facebook page. Without further ado:
The Real Housewives of Civil Rights
[I'll be posting more about African American history/heritage month--so stay tuned!]
The Real Housewives of Civil Rights
[I'll be posting more about African American history/heritage month--so stay tuned!]
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Calling all Asian Americans in all 50 States (we're talking to YOU Wyoming!)
The Kartika Review has initiated The 500 Project--they are looking for 10 APIA (Asian Pacific Islander Americans) to write in about how they feel about APIA literature.
Specifically, here are the questions they're asking:
1. Does APIA literature matter to you?
2. Why does APIA literature matter to you?
3. Cite the last 3 works of APIA literature you read.
4. Who are your favorite APIA writers or poets and why?
5. In your own words, you are:
6. In your own words, APIA literature is:
I'm assuming that they're not going to have any problems finding folks from California, New York, Hawaii, and Washington (for example) but perhaps places that don't have as large of an APIA population (Wyoming, North Dakota, Nebraska) may need more representation, so if you are from one of these states, identify as Asian Pacific American, and like literature, then consider responding to their call.
I did! And to prove it, here are my answers:
1. Does APIA literature matter to you?
YES! Absolutely! Positively! Can I be more affirmative in the way I answer this question???!!!
2. Why does APIA literature matter to you?
Because it speaks of and to me. Because when I first encountered Woman Warrior as a freshman I felt like FINALLY someone was writing about ME and FINALLY someone was telling my story. Because regardless of whether you identify as APIA or not, the stories that the literature tells are ones that touch on the particular humanity of our community—that reminds us and others of our humanity.
3. Cite the last 3 works of APIA literature you read.
The Surrendered – Chang-rae Lee, World and Town – Gish Jen, Bitter in the Mouth – Monique Truong
4. Who are your favorite APIA writers or poets and why?
Mitsuye Yamada (because she is a witness to history and because only the lyrical can capture certain traumas), Chang-rae Lee (because he writes of horror with a sense of beautiful urgency that forces me to act as a witness to history), Lois-Ann Yamanaka (because although I know she’s controversial in certain APIA literary circles, her prose is raw and gut wrenching and visceral—she makes you feel the pain of adolescence in a way that few writers can so vividly capture the angst of that period—she knows the loneliness of being an outsider).
5. In your own words, you are:
…large. I contain multitudes.
6. In your own words, APIA literature is:
Sustenance.
Specifically, here are the questions they're asking:
1. Does APIA literature matter to you?
2. Why does APIA literature matter to you?
3. Cite the last 3 works of APIA literature you read.
4. Who are your favorite APIA writers or poets and why?
5. In your own words, you are:
6. In your own words, APIA literature is:
I'm assuming that they're not going to have any problems finding folks from California, New York, Hawaii, and Washington (for example) but perhaps places that don't have as large of an APIA population (Wyoming, North Dakota, Nebraska) may need more representation, so if you are from one of these states, identify as Asian Pacific American, and like literature, then consider responding to their call.
I did! And to prove it, here are my answers:
1. Does APIA literature matter to you?
YES! Absolutely! Positively! Can I be more affirmative in the way I answer this question???!!!
2. Why does APIA literature matter to you?
Because it speaks of and to me. Because when I first encountered Woman Warrior as a freshman I felt like FINALLY someone was writing about ME and FINALLY someone was telling my story. Because regardless of whether you identify as APIA or not, the stories that the literature tells are ones that touch on the particular humanity of our community—that reminds us and others of our humanity.
3. Cite the last 3 works of APIA literature you read.
The Surrendered – Chang-rae Lee, World and Town – Gish Jen, Bitter in the Mouth – Monique Truong
4. Who are your favorite APIA writers or poets and why?
Mitsuye Yamada (because she is a witness to history and because only the lyrical can capture certain traumas), Chang-rae Lee (because he writes of horror with a sense of beautiful urgency that forces me to act as a witness to history), Lois-Ann Yamanaka (because although I know she’s controversial in certain APIA literary circles, her prose is raw and gut wrenching and visceral—she makes you feel the pain of adolescence in a way that few writers can so vividly capture the angst of that period—she knows the loneliness of being an outsider).
5. In your own words, you are:
…large. I contain multitudes.
6. In your own words, APIA literature is:
Sustenance.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
I'm coming out! (well, sort've...)
I don't want to mislead too many people by the title of this post--since I think the phrase "coming out" gives the general connotation of having someone announce their sexual orientation/declaration of a queer identity.
However, if we think of the phrase "coming out" as a way to make known a hidden or private identity, then I think this is apropos. Because I was actually, once-upon-a-time, very public about my identity on this blog and very public about my affiliations/geographic location.
But after a scare I had in July 2007 when writing a post on the Duke Lacrosse case, I went into hiding (ie: made the blog private--only people with an invitation had access) and edited previous posts to rid any geographic location or surname specificity associated with myself.
[Note: The above post is probably the most widely read post I've ever written and the one that garnered the most passionate reaction--and that STILL garners excitable and hostile comments from folks in the blogosphere. In fact, I'd be curious to see if after three years, anyone finds their way to this comment thread and sends me inappropriate comments blasting me. For all you trolls out there, read the comment guidelines on the sidebar--I'm NOT going to publish your comment telling me where to stick it--as the old schoolyard rhyme goes, "I'm rubber and you're glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks on you!" And if anyone is curious about the clusterfuck that made me go private was all about, check out this lengthy blog post, "Academic Privilege."]
Anyway, in different ways I've been "out" to quite a few people and in different forums. And so, I thought that it was time to come out on this blog...sort of. What I mean by this is that while I'm still going to adhere to the convention of referring myself only by my first name and to refer to Southern U. and Southern Man through these euphemisms, I'm not going to police myself so stringently in terms of specific geographic references or linking to things that will clearly give my full identity.
For example, I had the distinct honor and pleasure of having an essay I wrote, "Being Held Accountable: On the Necessity of Intersectionality" published in the Journal of Women's History (Winter 2010). Tenured Radical provides a link to the journal in this post and really, I'm quite proud of the piece, especially since I get to write about a fellow blogger (and friend!) Tami or What Tami Said.
[Aside: If you want access to the above journal, you pretty much have to have access to a university library in order to download it for free--although if you want to email me through my "View Complete Profile" link, then I'll be happy to send you a pdf copy]
I was also recently contacted by Leslie Bernstein Rojas, a reporter and editor/writer of the blog MULTI-AMERICAN: Immigration and cultural fusion in the new Southern California (it's affiliated with the local NPR station 89.3 KPCC) because she wanted to confirm that I was, indeed, the author of the post "We ARE a Mixed Race America" and because she wanted to quote from this post (which you can see here).
I definitely recommend checking out Leslie's blog--and Leslie was really lovely to talk to on the phone, once I got past my surprise that she was contacting me in my campus office about this blog--but of course I always knew it was very easy to figure out who I was through the magic of Google's mighty search engine. Which is the reason I've decided to link to these pieces that clearly show who I am. While I don't want anything I write in this blog to be affiliated with the university I currently teach at (hence why I'll continue to use the moniker "Southern U" and while I don't want to "out" people near and dear to me (like my partner, Southern Man), I have decided that I should be proud to be associated with this blog and should feel free to cross-post to other links and articles that will give away my "identity" so to speak.
So the last things I'll leave you with are plugs for the blogs of two colleague-friends. The first is a friend, "Ivy Dilettante" (not zher real name) who has an eponymous blog, The Ivy Dilettante, which is a very helpful blog about applying to ivy league schools from the perspective of someone who has both attended and currently teaches at an ivy league school. Please check it out--it's well written and definitely, for any parents who aspire to have their children attend an ivy league institution, it's a MUST READ.
Speaking of parents who want to get their kids into an ivy league school--the final word, I think, in the Amy Chua runaway train wreck, is this post by Timothy Yu, "Paper Tiger Mother: On Amy Chua." This is by far and away the BEST response to Amy Chua--and he HAS read the book. Way to go Tim!
However, if we think of the phrase "coming out" as a way to make known a hidden or private identity, then I think this is apropos. Because I was actually, once-upon-a-time, very public about my identity on this blog and very public about my affiliations/geographic location.
But after a scare I had in July 2007 when writing a post on the Duke Lacrosse case, I went into hiding (ie: made the blog private--only people with an invitation had access) and edited previous posts to rid any geographic location or surname specificity associated with myself.
[Note: The above post is probably the most widely read post I've ever written and the one that garnered the most passionate reaction--and that STILL garners excitable and hostile comments from folks in the blogosphere. In fact, I'd be curious to see if after three years, anyone finds their way to this comment thread and sends me inappropriate comments blasting me. For all you trolls out there, read the comment guidelines on the sidebar--I'm NOT going to publish your comment telling me where to stick it--as the old schoolyard rhyme goes, "I'm rubber and you're glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks on you!" And if anyone is curious about the clusterfuck that made me go private was all about, check out this lengthy blog post, "Academic Privilege."]
Anyway, in different ways I've been "out" to quite a few people and in different forums. And so, I thought that it was time to come out on this blog...sort of. What I mean by this is that while I'm still going to adhere to the convention of referring myself only by my first name and to refer to Southern U. and Southern Man through these euphemisms, I'm not going to police myself so stringently in terms of specific geographic references or linking to things that will clearly give my full identity.
For example, I had the distinct honor and pleasure of having an essay I wrote, "Being Held Accountable: On the Necessity of Intersectionality" published in the Journal of Women's History (Winter 2010). Tenured Radical provides a link to the journal in this post and really, I'm quite proud of the piece, especially since I get to write about a fellow blogger (and friend!) Tami or What Tami Said.
[Aside: If you want access to the above journal, you pretty much have to have access to a university library in order to download it for free--although if you want to email me through my "View Complete Profile" link, then I'll be happy to send you a pdf copy]
I was also recently contacted by Leslie Bernstein Rojas, a reporter and editor/writer of the blog MULTI-AMERICAN: Immigration and cultural fusion in the new Southern California (it's affiliated with the local NPR station 89.3 KPCC) because she wanted to confirm that I was, indeed, the author of the post "We ARE a Mixed Race America" and because she wanted to quote from this post (which you can see here).
I definitely recommend checking out Leslie's blog--and Leslie was really lovely to talk to on the phone, once I got past my surprise that she was contacting me in my campus office about this blog--but of course I always knew it was very easy to figure out who I was through the magic of Google's mighty search engine. Which is the reason I've decided to link to these pieces that clearly show who I am. While I don't want anything I write in this blog to be affiliated with the university I currently teach at (hence why I'll continue to use the moniker "Southern U" and while I don't want to "out" people near and dear to me (like my partner, Southern Man), I have decided that I should be proud to be associated with this blog and should feel free to cross-post to other links and articles that will give away my "identity" so to speak.
So the last things I'll leave you with are plugs for the blogs of two colleague-friends. The first is a friend, "Ivy Dilettante" (not zher real name) who has an eponymous blog, The Ivy Dilettante, which is a very helpful blog about applying to ivy league schools from the perspective of someone who has both attended and currently teaches at an ivy league school. Please check it out--it's well written and definitely, for any parents who aspire to have their children attend an ivy league institution, it's a MUST READ.
Speaking of parents who want to get their kids into an ivy league school--the final word, I think, in the Amy Chua runaway train wreck, is this post by Timothy Yu, "Paper Tiger Mother: On Amy Chua." This is by far and away the BEST response to Amy Chua--and he HAS read the book. Way to go Tim!
Friday, February 4, 2011
Rabbit, Rabbit! Happy New Year!!!
So yesterday marked the first day of the lunar new year, the year of the golden rabbit (as celebrated in Chinese culture) or the year of the cat (if you are Vietnamese).
Many Asian cultures celebrate the new year according to the lunar calendar, but the Chinese may be unique in having 15 days devoted to this holiday, which is a combination of Christmas, New Year's, Mother's Day, Father's Day, and the Fourth of July all wrapped up in one. Actually, that's not *quite* accurate either, but it's hard to emphasize the importance of this holiday in American terms. Suffice it to say, while I am Chinese American and grew up in California, this was still a much bigger holiday in my household than Christmas, at least in terms of its family significance.
[By the way, a great essay about the meaning of Chinese New Year and living in the Chinese diaspora was published in The Toronto Star (click here) -- thanks to my cousin "I" for the link!]
If you're wondering what the Year of the Rabbit holds for all of us, here's what we have to look forward to, courtesy of The Holiday Spot:
So Happy New Year everyone! I, for one, certainly am glad to be done with the year of the Tiger--it WAS a fierce year for me and others--a little more placidity is something I'll treasure this year.
Also, for all you dog lovers out there, the second day of the Chinese New Year is noted for daughters to return "home" to visit their birthparents AND to celebrate dogs because today is celebrated as the birthdate of the first dog. So Happy Birthday to all dogs everywhere, especially my beloved "B"!
Many Asian cultures celebrate the new year according to the lunar calendar, but the Chinese may be unique in having 15 days devoted to this holiday, which is a combination of Christmas, New Year's, Mother's Day, Father's Day, and the Fourth of July all wrapped up in one. Actually, that's not *quite* accurate either, but it's hard to emphasize the importance of this holiday in American terms. Suffice it to say, while I am Chinese American and grew up in California, this was still a much bigger holiday in my household than Christmas, at least in terms of its family significance.
[By the way, a great essay about the meaning of Chinese New Year and living in the Chinese diaspora was published in The Toronto Star (click here) -- thanks to my cousin "I" for the link!]
If you're wondering what the Year of the Rabbit holds for all of us, here's what we have to look forward to, courtesy of The Holiday Spot:
A placid year, very much welcomed and needed after the ferocious year of the Tiger. We should go off to some quiet spot to lick our wounds and get some rest after all the battles of the previous year.
Good taste and refinement will shine on everything and people will acknowledge that persuasion is better than force. A congenial time in which diplomacy, international relations and politics will be given a front seat again. We will act with discretion and make reasonable concessions without too much difficulty.
A time to watch out that we do not become too indulgent. The influence of the Rabbit tends to spoil those who like too much comfort and thus impair their effectiveness and sense of duty.
Law and order will be lax; rules and regulations will not be rigidly enforced. No one seems very inclined to bother with these unpleasant realities. They are busy enjoying themselves, entertaining others or simply taking it easy. The scene is quiet and calm, even deteriorating to the point of somnolence. We will all have a tendency to put off disagreeable tasks as long as possible
Money can be made without too much labor. Our life style will be languid and leisurely as we allow ourselves the luxuries we have always craved for. A temperate year with unhurried pace. For once, it may seem possible for us to be carefree and happy without too many annoyances.
So Happy New Year everyone! I, for one, certainly am glad to be done with the year of the Tiger--it WAS a fierce year for me and others--a little more placidity is something I'll treasure this year.
Also, for all you dog lovers out there, the second day of the Chinese New Year is noted for daughters to return "home" to visit their birthparents AND to celebrate dogs because today is celebrated as the birthdate of the first dog. So Happy Birthday to all dogs everywhere, especially my beloved "B"!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
We ARE a Mixed Race America
There is an article in the New York Times Sunday edition entitled, "Race Remixed: Black? White? Asian? More Young Americans Chose All of the Above." The journalist interviewed several members of University of Maryland's Multiracial and Biracial Student Association on their choice to identify as mixed race and on the prevalence of others, especially younger Americans, having the freedom to identify as multi- rather than mono-racial.
And if you are a regular reader of this blog, the article is not going to come as a surprise; rather, it will be affirmation of something that you and I have known for quite some time. That the U.S. is (and has always been) a multiracial space. I suppose what seems new is the freedom with which people are choosing to identify as mixed race. That the idea that one must only choose a singular race out of loyalty or social stigma or ethnic nationalism no longer rules the day.
However, the academic in me can't help but think about these choices occurring in the backdrop of a university setting. In other words, do mixed-race people feel as much choice as to how they identify if they are living in mono-racial areas where there may be a stigma to identifying as mixed-race or perhaps more accurately, to not identify within a particular racial or ethnic sphere would mean having charges of being a "sell out" or "acting white" leaving one in a socially vulnerable position--and would this also be exacerbated by one's other, potentially minoritizing, identities, like being gay/lesbian/bisexual/non-Christian/atheist/other-abled/working-class/poor?
I'm not trying to take away from the Times piece nor from the community and identities that the mixed race college students of University of Maryland are forging as a shared collectivity of "others" who reject one-drop rule prescriptions of who they should be and how they should identify. And I think the piece was good to remind us that the idea of a mixed race American or multiracial people does not spell an end to racism or racial divisions--being multi-racial does not mean that one transcends race or has racism licked. Being multiracial becomes another identity that people are free to choose in the 21st century. I guess I just want to remind us that our ability to choose is never as simple as making the choice--that it is often constrained by other factors.
Anyway, let me just end with two other pieces from the article. First, this interactive family tree--you can see (and hear) Lou Diamond Phillips (that's right, of La Bamba fame!) describe his mixed race family tree and you can develop one of your own (click here) and finally there's this video essay about this new generation of mixed race Americans:
And if you are a regular reader of this blog, the article is not going to come as a surprise; rather, it will be affirmation of something that you and I have known for quite some time. That the U.S. is (and has always been) a multiracial space. I suppose what seems new is the freedom with which people are choosing to identify as mixed race. That the idea that one must only choose a singular race out of loyalty or social stigma or ethnic nationalism no longer rules the day.
However, the academic in me can't help but think about these choices occurring in the backdrop of a university setting. In other words, do mixed-race people feel as much choice as to how they identify if they are living in mono-racial areas where there may be a stigma to identifying as mixed-race or perhaps more accurately, to not identify within a particular racial or ethnic sphere would mean having charges of being a "sell out" or "acting white" leaving one in a socially vulnerable position--and would this also be exacerbated by one's other, potentially minoritizing, identities, like being gay/lesbian/bisexual/non-Christian/atheist/other-abled/working-class/poor?
I'm not trying to take away from the Times piece nor from the community and identities that the mixed race college students of University of Maryland are forging as a shared collectivity of "others" who reject one-drop rule prescriptions of who they should be and how they should identify. And I think the piece was good to remind us that the idea of a mixed race American or multiracial people does not spell an end to racism or racial divisions--being multi-racial does not mean that one transcends race or has racism licked. Being multiracial becomes another identity that people are free to choose in the 21st century. I guess I just want to remind us that our ability to choose is never as simple as making the choice--that it is often constrained by other factors.
Anyway, let me just end with two other pieces from the article. First, this interactive family tree--you can see (and hear) Lou Diamond Phillips (that's right, of La Bamba fame!) describe his mixed race family tree and you can develop one of your own (click here) and finally there's this video essay about this new generation of mixed race Americans:
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I'm glad I have a Chinese Mom
There's been a lot of hubbub in the mainstream media and in the blogosphere about the Wall Street Journal article that came out about a week ago. If the title of my post isn't a tip off, then let me give you the link here and tell you the title: "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior" by Yale Law School professor, Amy Chua. This essay is, apparently, an amalgamation from various parts of Chua's latest book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, with the very log subtitle -- which you can read on the book jacket below:
Various friends and family members have sent me the link to the original WSJ essay and have asked my opinion about the whole fracas. I've seen New York Times pieces decrying Chua and her style of parenting (including this thoughtful piece by David Brooks--a commentator I don't normally agree with), comments in various forums that call Chua's mothering child abuse. I've seen Chua interviewed on CNN and other news outlets telling us that she's received death threats and that the piece in the WSJ didn't accurately represent the book and her perspective--that it was never meant to be a handbook or an ethnic nationalist treatise; rather, it was a memoir about the trials and tribulations of her parenting, particularly the conflicts she faced with her younger daughter. I've read blog posts by Asian American women recounting the trauma of their own childhood experiences with a Chinese (or Asian) parent and two very thoughtful pieces by erin Khue Ninh (lit professor at my alma mater) and Jeff Yang (SF Chronicle) about the fallout in the Asian American community on Amy Chua.
So what do I think about Chua, specifically about her book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother and whether the WSJ piece accurately reflected her parenting ideology?
The first disclaimer is that I haven't read the book, and I'm not sure that I'll get around to reading it anytime soon. I do think that she was mis-represented in the WSJ piece--that they crafted an essay that was designed to provoke and push buttons (and boy did it!). However, I also think that in a million years I wouldn't parent the way Chua parents. Mostly because I don't think that training your kids to be #1 is necessarily a path to happiness. Greatness, sure--but I value happiness over greatness. Yet I also agree with parts of the WSJ article that there does seem to be a sense of entitlement and indulgence in certain kids and you have to wonder if this is a result of a laxity in parenting.
[Aside: As one currently child-less, I recognize that any remarks I make about parenting will be potentially discounted right off the bat, but I've been teaching for a while now and this is my opinion about some of the freshman I see coming into the classroom--especially the ones whose parents contact me on behalf of their student to talk about academic issues--which in my line of work is a big NO NO]
So I'm not really going to comment on the book so much as the firestorm that has happened in the wake of the WSJ article. And one thing that strikes me about all of the comments is the disturbing return to Asian invasion rhetoric, one that renders China and all things Chinese as mechanical, robotic, unimaginative, repetitive, in terms suggestive of a horde (or for you Sci-fi fans, the borg) versus American exceptionalism which emphasizes creativity, individuality, and most of all, the pursuit of happiness, as granted to us in our Declaration of Independence. In other words, stereotypes of model minority, Asian Americans as perpetual foreigners, yellow peril, geeky Asian violin players are reinforced in the WSJ piece.
And while my colleague in academia has spoken about the dangers of the WSJ piece and Chua's emphasis on overachievement (even if she has learned a lesson from it) on the Asian immigrant parents who may see her book as an endorsement for strict parenting and excellence and achievement at all costs, what I think is truly sad and insidious about the fallout from Chua are all the Chinese and Chinese American moms, immigrant and American born, who are not the stereotype of the strict Asian parent.
Case in point: my own mother.
My mom (and my Dad) never pushed me to get straight A's. I was allowed and encouraged to go to sleepovers and to have sleepovers at my home. I was allowed and encouraged to pursue extracurricular activities like tennis and badminton and track (and I even dabbled in being a bluebird--but it didn't take). On my own initiative I played the violin for 7 years and piano for 3 years, and my parents didn't complain when I stopped playing both instruments in high school once I became more involved in student body politics. I watched plenty of t.v. (and also read plenty of books, largely fiction), and my parents didn't pressure me to attend an ivy league or tier 1 school or to major in something "practical" or to become an M.D.
In short, what Chua's article and book do is to obscure women like my mother who aren't the stereotype of the Asian mother who insists on excellence at all costs and who creates pressure-cooker tension in the home for her children. My mother never berated or insulted me--never threw homemade birthday cards back at me--she allowed me to make my own decisions and choices while still giving me structure and guidance.
Did we fight? Of course! Was it a perfect mother-daughter relationship? No way! But my mother is certainly a strong-willed woman who helped me become a strong-willed woman -- and she did this through a combination of structure and trust. So I just want everyone to remember that not all of us had overly strict Chinese mothers who made our lives miserable and forced us into doing things we didn't want to do for the same of excellence. I, for one, am very glad and very proud of the Chinese American Mom who raised me and who instilled in me a desire to succeed not by pushing me but by loving me unconditionally.
Various friends and family members have sent me the link to the original WSJ essay and have asked my opinion about the whole fracas. I've seen New York Times pieces decrying Chua and her style of parenting (including this thoughtful piece by David Brooks--a commentator I don't normally agree with), comments in various forums that call Chua's mothering child abuse. I've seen Chua interviewed on CNN and other news outlets telling us that she's received death threats and that the piece in the WSJ didn't accurately represent the book and her perspective--that it was never meant to be a handbook or an ethnic nationalist treatise; rather, it was a memoir about the trials and tribulations of her parenting, particularly the conflicts she faced with her younger daughter. I've read blog posts by Asian American women recounting the trauma of their own childhood experiences with a Chinese (or Asian) parent and two very thoughtful pieces by erin Khue Ninh (lit professor at my alma mater) and Jeff Yang (SF Chronicle) about the fallout in the Asian American community on Amy Chua.
So what do I think about Chua, specifically about her book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother and whether the WSJ piece accurately reflected her parenting ideology?
The first disclaimer is that I haven't read the book, and I'm not sure that I'll get around to reading it anytime soon. I do think that she was mis-represented in the WSJ piece--that they crafted an essay that was designed to provoke and push buttons (and boy did it!). However, I also think that in a million years I wouldn't parent the way Chua parents. Mostly because I don't think that training your kids to be #1 is necessarily a path to happiness. Greatness, sure--but I value happiness over greatness. Yet I also agree with parts of the WSJ article that there does seem to be a sense of entitlement and indulgence in certain kids and you have to wonder if this is a result of a laxity in parenting.
[Aside: As one currently child-less, I recognize that any remarks I make about parenting will be potentially discounted right off the bat, but I've been teaching for a while now and this is my opinion about some of the freshman I see coming into the classroom--especially the ones whose parents contact me on behalf of their student to talk about academic issues--which in my line of work is a big NO NO]
So I'm not really going to comment on the book so much as the firestorm that has happened in the wake of the WSJ article. And one thing that strikes me about all of the comments is the disturbing return to Asian invasion rhetoric, one that renders China and all things Chinese as mechanical, robotic, unimaginative, repetitive, in terms suggestive of a horde (or for you Sci-fi fans, the borg) versus American exceptionalism which emphasizes creativity, individuality, and most of all, the pursuit of happiness, as granted to us in our Declaration of Independence. In other words, stereotypes of model minority, Asian Americans as perpetual foreigners, yellow peril, geeky Asian violin players are reinforced in the WSJ piece.
And while my colleague in academia has spoken about the dangers of the WSJ piece and Chua's emphasis on overachievement (even if she has learned a lesson from it) on the Asian immigrant parents who may see her book as an endorsement for strict parenting and excellence and achievement at all costs, what I think is truly sad and insidious about the fallout from Chua are all the Chinese and Chinese American moms, immigrant and American born, who are not the stereotype of the strict Asian parent.
Case in point: my own mother.
My mom (and my Dad) never pushed me to get straight A's. I was allowed and encouraged to go to sleepovers and to have sleepovers at my home. I was allowed and encouraged to pursue extracurricular activities like tennis and badminton and track (and I even dabbled in being a bluebird--but it didn't take). On my own initiative I played the violin for 7 years and piano for 3 years, and my parents didn't complain when I stopped playing both instruments in high school once I became more involved in student body politics. I watched plenty of t.v. (and also read plenty of books, largely fiction), and my parents didn't pressure me to attend an ivy league or tier 1 school or to major in something "practical" or to become an M.D.
In short, what Chua's article and book do is to obscure women like my mother who aren't the stereotype of the Asian mother who insists on excellence at all costs and who creates pressure-cooker tension in the home for her children. My mother never berated or insulted me--never threw homemade birthday cards back at me--she allowed me to make my own decisions and choices while still giving me structure and guidance.
Did we fight? Of course! Was it a perfect mother-daughter relationship? No way! But my mother is certainly a strong-willed woman who helped me become a strong-willed woman -- and she did this through a combination of structure and trust. So I just want everyone to remember that not all of us had overly strict Chinese mothers who made our lives miserable and forced us into doing things we didn't want to do for the same of excellence. I, for one, am very glad and very proud of the Chinese American Mom who raised me and who instilled in me a desire to succeed not by pushing me but by loving me unconditionally.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
