Do I Need to Travel to China?

Today at Staples I was waiting to make 5 photocopies at the single copier that was working. An elderly gentleman (probably in his 70s) was photocopying what looked to be (and turned out to be) his legal life documents. He was affable enough--even offered to interrupt his copies to let me jump in, but he said he was almost done and in an effort to fit in more to Southern norms and culture (ie: to be more patient) I said it was OK for me to wait and he really was done within about 7 minutes (a long time for me but in the scheme of things, probably not a big deal).

At any rate, as he finished up, he turned his attention to me and asked: "Are you Hawaiian?"

Let me pause here and note that I was wearing a brown sundress that showed off a lot of my skin, which at this point in the summer is a fairly healthy caramel color. I also had my hair down, and I don't know if these things are stereotypically "Hawaiian" or not but I also have to say that when I have been mistaken for "Hawaiian" it's normally older white American men whose dalliance with the South Pacific has taken the form of a trip to Oahu or Maui where I'm sure they've seen lots of Chinese, Japanese, and Filipino Americans who are local and hence "Hawaiian" and perhaps I do look like them. I should also add, though I'm sure you can guess, that this older man is white.

Anyway, I say: "No"

And he insists that I look Hawaiian and I shrug my shoulders and say I'm not, at which point he asks the dreaded question that ALL ASIAN AMERICANS HAVE HAD TO ANSWER AND THAT MOST OF US HATE: "Where ARE you from? Which country?"

Me (sighing inside--I mean, I just want to make 5 lousy photocopies): "I'm from the United States of America."

Him, now a bit flustered: "No, I know that, I mean, where are your parents from...where are your people from?"

Me (not willing to give in): "California"

Him: (now he's bemused and acting like I'm retarded rather than being frustrated by my obvious deference of his questions): "No, I mean what is your ancestry? Where are your ancestors from?"

To which I tell him that if he's asking about my ethnic background, it's China/Chinese.

Him: "Oh! Ni hao?"

Me (now being deliberately obtuse): "Sir, if you are inquiring as to whether I speak Cantonese or Mandarin, I do not."

Him: (now laughing amiably because he thinks we're having a jolly little conversation): "Oh, I've been to China several times and have picked up a few useful phrases. Have you ever visited China?"

Me: (now just annoyed, I mean, he's a nice older fellow, but really, I JUST WANT TO MAKE MY PHOTOCOPIES): "No, I've never been to China."

Him: (he's now VERY SURPRISED and in ADVICE mode): "But you HAVE to go to China. It's where your people are from!"

And I just shrugged and made my photocopies and he left, finally.

And so, here's the question: Do I really NEED to go to China? My Mom grew up in Jamaica (yes, I omitted that from our conversation because I really didn't want to be talking to the man in the first place) and my father fled China in the 1950s. There are no close relatives in China, that I know of. I don't speak Cantonese or Mandarin. I have nothing against China--I would love to walk on the Great Wall, to visit Shanghai, to see the Weigar population of Western China. But there are also places I'd love to go: Italy, Tibet, Costa Rica, Kenya, the Galapagos Islands, Great Britain. Do I owe China a top priority because I have an ethnic connection?

Public

Ever had a moment when a word, a typical word, all of a sudden started to look foreign and you had to think hard about what that word really means? The word "public" is often used as the opposite of "private." I've been thinking of what "public" means since this blog is now, once again, public. It is now open to the general public (you don't need an invitation to view the blog or to register with blogger to view it). Anyone can find their way to this blog, to read my random thoughts and musings, my off-the-cuff remarks about the state of race in America (and any other things I happen to be ruminating on at the time).

There are now rules of engagement, so to speak, about this blog (see the right sidebar). When I began this experiment three months ago, I really thought that only a handful (as in maybe 3-4) people would ever read it--it was really a pre-writing excursion to get me jumpstarted with the book project. But after a surreal incident at the end of July and a lot of thoughtful comments from people, on and off this site, I realized that I'm interested in this blog for a variety of reasons, and like many academics who can't stop thinking of the next project, am hoping to write about my experiences with this blog one-day (maybe sometime soon...more on that later).

Anyway, that's my post for the day. To think about the word public--that there has been a tension in my life between the public and the private. That I value my privacy--I want to contain myself and my innermost thoughts to myself, and yet here I am, going public, with my thoughts on this blog (even when it was by invitation) and by making this blog open to the public once again. And really, I've always been proud that I was a public school girl (educated in California's high school and university systems) and that I teach at a public university. So it does seem appropriate that the word of the day is public.

Tribute to Madeline L'Engle

Madeline L'Engle, the author of A Wrinkle in Time (1963 Newberry Award Winner) died yesterday at her home in Connecticut at the age of 88. A Wrinkle in Time (and the follow-up book, A Wind in the Door) was probably one of my favorite childhood books. It follows a girl, Meg, bookish and odd, a girl who feels out of place, who is fierce and devoted to her younger brother, Charles. It is about traveling through time, about fantasy, about the power of stubornness and doing the right thing even when it's hard. It gave me inspiration, as I'm sure it gave millions of other young girls and boys inspiration to imagine another world--to believe in the power of stories and imagination and creativity.

I never really read any other works by Ms. L'Engle. She was prolific, mostly writing young adult fantasy works. If you want to read an article about her life and works, go to this New York Times article (click here).

I don't know that she has anything to do with the topic of this blog--mixed race--but she has everything to do with the power of stories (which was the topic I was going to blog about--so more on that for a later post). Her stories, her ability to imagine other worlds, are powerful. And it reminds me, again, of how important narrative is--how important stories are, to give meaning to our lives.

In fact, let me end this tribute with the words of Ms. L'Engle herself on why stories matter:

"Why does anybody tell a story . . . It does indeed have something to do with faith, faith that the universe has meaning, that our little human lives are not irrelevant, that what we choose or say or do matters, matters cosmically."

Being Paranoid vs. Being a Target

I'm returning, once again, to the topic of racial paranoia, because over the Labor Day weekend I was in West Virginia visiting some friends. And over the course of three days I became aware that I must have had an invisible sign on my forehead that said "Please stare at me long and hard." While I think some of the staring was out of curiosity, there were distinct moments when the staring felt hostile. And it's hard for me to unpack whether it's because I was with my white boyfriend (which means we constituted an inter-racial couple, the only one I saw in the 3 days of our trip) or because I was visibly Asian and hence different and hence not from there (aside from looking at my face in the mirror, there were no Asian people I saw over the course of 3 days--not at rest stops or restaurants or gas stations or supermarkets or the Hampton Inn we were staying at).

I, obviously, felt paranoid. Even my white Southern boyfriend, born and raised in a Southern Capital, felt uncomfortable with the evangelical and conservative overlay we felt, at times, hitting us on our travels (which only increased my paranoid feelings, because if my white Southern boyfriend is feeling like West Virginia is uncomfortable TO HIM, you can only imagine what I was experiencing).

However, I want to be clear about one thing: nothing bad happened to us. Nothing was said. Nobody bothered us. While I may have detected a certain curtness with our Shoney's waitress (that's right, we ate at Shoneys: and for anyone traveling out there--DON'T DO IT! ONE OF THE WORST MEALS OF MY LIFE. But we were hungry and tired and looking for something quick near our hotel that wasn't fast food). And while the woman at the Dairy Queen could not take her eyes off me--kept staring at me with an expression on her face that indicated that she had stepped into something foul and unpleasant, nothing was said, nothing was done.

Which means, that all in all, it wasn't all that bad. Uncomfortable? Sure, but it is vastly different from experiencing the effects of real institutional racism.

Which is the topic of this post: The Jena 6. Again, for a more succinct (and visual) summary than I can provide here, please go to the link on the Racialicious website:

Link to Jena 6 case:

The African American teens in Jena, LA experienced people putting nooses on a tree, a man who aimed a rifle at them, being beat up at parties, and overall harassment and abuse. That's real racism. I mention this not to say that my paranoia isn't warranted--it comes from a place where I fear what is happening to these African American students could happen to me in places where I'm obviously a curiosity, at best, or an item of hostility and possible abuse, at worst. But the truth is, as much as I think it's folly to rank racism, the history of race relations in the South, of racism against African Americans in places like Jena, LA is a long and deep and troubled one. And it is different, my experiences as an Asian American woman, are different than the experiences of young African American men.

We Will Not Be Silent

About a year ago, an Arab American architect, Raed Jarrar, was detained by Jet Blue and the TSA at JFK Airport because he was wearing a tee-shirt that had Arabic lettering and the English translation, "We Will Not Be Silent" underneath.

To hear more about Jarrar's story, go to these following links:

You Tube

ACLU

Essentially, Jarrar was not allowed to board the airplane until he put on a different tee-shirt over the one that read "We Will Not Be Silent." The phrase originated from a student resistant group in Germany in the 1930s, The White Rose, and this slogan was used in a newsletter to protest against Hitler's regime and institutionalization of fear and anxiety and xenophobia. It is a rallying cry of protest against a government who is not listening to the needs of its citizens--who is acting unilaterally and losing credibility and respect from the international community.

Sound familiar?

If you want to learn more about the group who produced the tee-shirts (they gave Jarrar one, which is why he ended up wearing it, not thinking it would provoke the reaction it did) go to the link for Artists Against the War here -- you can also order a tee-shirt for yourself.

I don't know if I can get one in time for my trip to the PacificNorthwest, and it's probably not the smartest thing to do. But it's a very small act of resistance, and once I get my tee-shirt, I will be wearing it out and about. Then again, it's very different for me to show up at the airport wearing this tee-shirt than for someone who looks like Raed Jarrar (and with his name and his accent). But still, if we don't resist these small acts, what will happen when the larger ones happen (or are happening)?

Western Eyes

A friend sent me a link to a very disturbing surgery that is apparently taking place in record number in a suburb of Atlanta, GA. It is called "Westernization Blepharoplasty" otherwise known as "double-eyelid surgery"--otherwise known as Asians/Asian Americans who lack a double-fold in their eyelid undergoing elective surgery to cut their eyelids, creating a fold which also makes their eyes look rounder, more "white." For the link to the disturbing video, click here:

About 20 years ago this was a semi-popular trend among Asian Americans to enhance their "caucasian" features. I suppose it's not so much enhance as to give them the illusion that they could see out of white-eyes.

I'm not sure what else to say about this, other than I wonder if this is happening in other places--I would be surprised to hear about this being popular in California or New York or other urban areas, but perhaps I'm wrong. I also wonder if the state of Asian Americans in the South is comparable to Asian Americans in the 1960s and 1970s--that a lack of critical mass along with a historic and traditional entrenchment of white-values has created this desire for Asian Americans to achieve whiteness however they can. Of course class plays into this--after all, refugees from Viet Nam, Laos, and Cambodia living in the Atlanta area are probably not getting elective eye surgery. What seems saddest of all is the belief by the woman interviewed in this piece that beauty is dependent on this surgery--that caucasian feature are, in fact, more beautiful, pleasant, and desired than Asian.

Maybe someone can do an intervention and lock her in a room with Margaret Cho, some documentaries by Christine Choy and Renee Tajima-Pena, and loads of Asian American studies texts and literature. Asian American self-hatred is so ugly.

Gay Penguins

Yesterday a children's book, And Tango Makes Three (2006), once again made news when conservative parents in Missouri became concerned that children would have access to this book and its message condoning a queer lifestyle. The book, based on actual events at a NYC zoo, tells the tale of Silo & Roy, 2 male penguins, and their adoption of a fertilized egg and their subsequent raising of the baby penguin chick. Some parents and organizations want to ban the book or at least move it to the "adult" section. Some librarians are not budging on continuing to categorize the book as children's literature, while others have moved it to the "non-fiction" section since it does deal with actual events. For a UK take on the whole "controversy" see this link to a Guardian article.

This kind of stuff makes me crazy. It's a story about 2 penguins who raise a family together--it is a story about adoption, about love, about penguins--don't people like penguins???!!! Isn't this the heart of family values? (sigh)

I could go on and on about the intolerance of the conservative right, about how we need to champion and advocate for alternative family structures, but I think really my posts have been too long lately so I'll just let everyone muse on this and encourage everyone to go out and buy a copy of And Tango Makes Three -- donate it to your local school library or give it to a friend with kids. Maybe that's one way we'll start to teach more tolerance.

Can I be racist?

When I took my first "race" theory class, an African American introduction to race class my Sophomore year at UCSB, our professor, Dr. Claudine Michel, discussed, at length, the difference between institutional racism and bigotry. Anyone could be a bigot, but racism as a unique form of discrimination, could only be wielded by those within the power structure of a given society. For South Africa during the apartheid era, this meant white Afrikaners. For Tibetans living under Chinese rule, this mean Chinese people (probably specific the Han majority). And for those of us living in the U.S. this meant white Americans. Therefore, I would tell my friends, people of color (and me in particular) cannot be racist.

And yet, theory only takes you so far. Because at heart, racism is about power--about people in situations of power choosing to use their race as a measurement of superiority against others. And so, although I agree, in general, with Dr. Michel's definition--and although that's how I tend to define racism--as part of an institutional power structure, the social (and racial) landscape is changing--slowly but surely. In Hawaii the dominant ethnic-racial group is Japanese American (with Chinese coming a close second). And definitely in different parts of the country, saying that just because the larger US society is white dominated doesn't mean that if you are white you always have access to this power structure or that if you aren't white, you don't. So while I think, in general, I don't have access to power and the force to discriminate at random and at will, I also think that especially given my relative (and relatively small) status as a University professor, I do have an amount of power I could exercise and therefore I could, in fact, discriminate against all non-Asian Americans (or non-people-of-color--shouldn't I just say white?) people, which would, in fact, make me racist. Or at least my acts racist.

Of course I'd love to hear other opinions on this.

Also, final note: It seems like this has become the word to watch out for lately--that in the last twenty or thirty years to call someone racist or level charges of racism becomes such a force--and that there has become a backlash against calling any but the most obvious and violent of acts and people racist (in other words, it's still OK to bash the Clan but less OK to start calling the Republican Party out, and even less OK to start calling out the Democratic nominees for some of their stuff). Which is why I tend to avoid the term. Not because I think it's not relevant--it is in so many small ways--so many unintentional racist acts by well meaning people--by progressive white liberals, by progressive-liberal African Americans, by progressive liberal Asian Americans. And yet, I do still think it's important for us to call things as we see them--we live in a world in which your chances of survival, if not simply daily comfort are greatly increased if you look white and better, still, if you are a straight man. There are still plenty of policies that are getting reworked in a different language that, at the end of the day, still spell out institutional power that target non-white Americans. Which, to me, seems racist.