So I just got back tonight from leading a workshop on Asian Americans and the politics of racialization at a college that I'll call Private U. I was invited by one of Private U's Asian American groups, and I was really awed by how many students showed up. What followed in the hour and a half of the workshop was a really wonderful conversation about race and Asian Americans. At least I tried to make it or intended it to be a conversation. Yet I confess that the professor in me tended to be a bit long-winded in my answers and because it was only meant to be an hour-long workshop, I also talked at folks more than I wanted to--because there were key points I really wanted to get to, like the fact that race is a social construct but that just because it's not linked to genes or blood doesn't mean it's not "real"--it's as real as money, and we ALL know how real money is (and what I mean by that is that the dollar bill in your wallet is a piece of paper but we have all agreed to believe that the piece of paper has a value linked to a worldwide monetary system--but at the end of the day, it's a piece of paper--just ask folks who have lived through a revolution and total upheaval of their way of life).
Anyway, what I wanted to do in this blogspace is to share some of the questions that students wrote down on notecards--my idea was that I wanted the students to drive the conversation and that they should write down topics that they wanted to talk about and we would discuss these. But because of time constraints, we only got to address a single question: Is the model minority stereotype ultimately beneficial to Asian Americans?
So regular readers of Mixed Race America, I beg your patience and invite your participation. I'm going to be posting the questions that I got below and in the following few days, I'll be attempting to answer some of these question or more specifically, to create a dialogue and invite conversation around these questions. Hopefully some of Private U's students will chime in--the ones who went to the workshop. But of course I welcome everyone in the blogosphere to weigh in--so long as they follow the guidelines on the right hand side bar.
And for any Private U. students, please note that while you know my full identity, on this blog I'm pseudononymous, so if you can edit your remarks to refer to your college as "Private U" and to not mention my full name and my university affiliation, I'd appreciate that!
OK, here are the questions [and please note, I am not editing them--I am quoting them in full and staying true to the punctuation/phrasing]:
*How are mixed race Asians classified--socially, internally, personally: white/Asian American, black/Asian American, Hispanic/Asian American?
*Did pan-Asian political/social movement launch the first articulation of "Asian American" as a race, or did other earlier factors/influence cause it?
*Why do colleges have a ceiling/quota on us? Why was the SAT's emphasis on math decreased and English increased?
*Given that each "Asian American" group is so distinct is it accurate to classify them all into one group? Is that group too heterogeneous?
*How is having "Asian" become another overachieving racial group, like white, different from "Latino/Hispanic" or "Black? being so?
*We're in this racial middle as Asian Americans, what do you see as the future for Asian/Americans in the U.S. (politically & socially)?
*How do Asian Americans solve the "perpetual foreigner" problem?
*What is the relationship between the established Asian-American community and the wave of post-racialism? How are the young people participating in and rejecting the notion of racial identity?
Monday, November 15, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
T.G.I.F. Joel Burns and the "It Gets Better" project
Well the midterm elections are over, and I suppose I could write about that--but I think I'd rather focus on the positives (or at least not get into a rambling post about the state of politics in this nation and what it may or may not reflect about the state of race/racism in this nation) and so let me turn to a different topic. Because it's Friday, and this blog is overdue for another
T.G.I.F.: The Great Impossible Feat award
So let me introduce you to Joel Burns. Many of you probably know about Mr. Burns and the video that went viral on YouTube of his thirteen minute address to the Ft. Worth City Council (where he serves as a member). Burns had been haunted by the rash of suicides by adolescents and young adults that were the result of bullying and/or a lack of support because of their sexual orientation (or in one case, perceived sexual orientation). Inspired by the "It Gets Better Project"--an on-line movement of celebrities and everyday people speaking directly into the camera and telling young people, specifically young queer teens, that life will get better--that suicide is not the answer to their current pain, Joel Burns used his time at the city council meeting to address the rash of suicides and share his own story about bullying and suicide with the people of Ft. Worth and as it turned out, the world:
[Joel Burns speaking to the Ft. Worth City Council]
The aftermath of Burns' speech is told by Burns to different news programs and talk shows, like CNN and The Ellen DeGeneres show:
[Joel Burns being interviewed on CNN]
[Joel Burns on The Ellen DeGeneres Show]
One of the things I was particularly struck by is the anecdote that Burns shared about one of the most poignant and remarkable stories that emerged after his video went viral. And that is the correspondence he has had with a friend of a gay Australian teen who had been contemplating suicide that very week--and after being shown Burns's video by his friend, he realized that there was hope and he didn't go through with his plan.
One person really can make a difference. And for that, Joel Burns, the "It Gets Better Project" and the many queer adolescents and teens who struggle with finding a place for themselves--who daily endure with taunts and threats--they all deserve a T.G.I.F. award.
Because sometimes just surviving is an incredible feat in itself.
[UPDATE: 12:21pm: I just saw this very moving 2-minute spot by Tim Gunn (of Project Runway Fame) where he shares his own story of failed suicide and gives a plug for The Trevor Project--which is this AMAZING website/resource/suicide hotline for GLBTQ people, especially for youth. So here's Tim Gunn's "It Gets Better" video below:]
T.G.I.F.: The Great Impossible Feat award
So let me introduce you to Joel Burns. Many of you probably know about Mr. Burns and the video that went viral on YouTube of his thirteen minute address to the Ft. Worth City Council (where he serves as a member). Burns had been haunted by the rash of suicides by adolescents and young adults that were the result of bullying and/or a lack of support because of their sexual orientation (or in one case, perceived sexual orientation). Inspired by the "It Gets Better Project"--an on-line movement of celebrities and everyday people speaking directly into the camera and telling young people, specifically young queer teens, that life will get better--that suicide is not the answer to their current pain, Joel Burns used his time at the city council meeting to address the rash of suicides and share his own story about bullying and suicide with the people of Ft. Worth and as it turned out, the world:
[Joel Burns speaking to the Ft. Worth City Council]
The aftermath of Burns' speech is told by Burns to different news programs and talk shows, like CNN and The Ellen DeGeneres show:
[Joel Burns being interviewed on CNN]
[Joel Burns on The Ellen DeGeneres Show]
One of the things I was particularly struck by is the anecdote that Burns shared about one of the most poignant and remarkable stories that emerged after his video went viral. And that is the correspondence he has had with a friend of a gay Australian teen who had been contemplating suicide that very week--and after being shown Burns's video by his friend, he realized that there was hope and he didn't go through with his plan.
One person really can make a difference. And for that, Joel Burns, the "It Gets Better Project" and the many queer adolescents and teens who struggle with finding a place for themselves--who daily endure with taunts and threats--they all deserve a T.G.I.F. award.
Because sometimes just surviving is an incredible feat in itself.
[UPDATE: 12:21pm: I just saw this very moving 2-minute spot by Tim Gunn (of Project Runway Fame) where he shares his own story of failed suicide and gives a plug for The Trevor Project--which is this AMAZING website/resource/suicide hotline for GLBTQ people, especially for youth. So here's Tim Gunn's "It Gets Better" video below:]
Sunday, October 31, 2010
The scariest thing about Halloween is the Tea Party
In honor of Halloween I thought I'd share something that scares the hell out of me--the idea that members of the Tea Party will actually win their elections and be serving in Congress! For anyone who wants to know how to combat the rhetoric of the Tea Party, see this very clever (and funny) video below:
I wish they had been more trenchant in their skewering of the racist comments made by the Tea Party animated animal--how can anyone let comments like "lazy black and lazy Mexicans" go without pointing out the inherent racism and bigotry? Perhaps comments like that are too obviously racist. At any rate, my favorite line is when the figure questioning the Tea Partier says:
"Words have meanings attached to them"
Because you hear phrases like "fascist" and "socialist" and "tax and spend" thrown around by some folks and wonder if they really understand what these terms mean.
All of which is a way of saying, please GO OUT AND VOTE ON NOVEMBER 2! THE MIDTERM ELECTIONS REALLY DO MATTER!!!
[Health Update: My bi-lateral mastectomy surgery was textbook, and I'm recuperating/healing/resting at home with the loving care of my Mom and Southern Man. Although I have to say that if I were more mobile, I'd probably go dressed up as a human pink ribbon...wouldn't that be something! Wonder if anyone would get the irony...]
I wish they had been more trenchant in their skewering of the racist comments made by the Tea Party animated animal--how can anyone let comments like "lazy black and lazy Mexicans" go without pointing out the inherent racism and bigotry? Perhaps comments like that are too obviously racist. At any rate, my favorite line is when the figure questioning the Tea Partier says:
"Words have meanings attached to them"
Because you hear phrases like "fascist" and "socialist" and "tax and spend" thrown around by some folks and wonder if they really understand what these terms mean.
All of which is a way of saying, please GO OUT AND VOTE ON NOVEMBER 2! THE MIDTERM ELECTIONS REALLY DO MATTER!!!
[Health Update: My bi-lateral mastectomy surgery was textbook, and I'm recuperating/healing/resting at home with the loving care of my Mom and Southern Man. Although I have to say that if I were more mobile, I'd probably go dressed up as a human pink ribbon...wouldn't that be something! Wonder if anyone would get the irony...]
Monday, October 18, 2010
Random observations related and unrelated to this blog
It's past midnight and I'm up blogging because I'm a bit too amped up and anxious to sleep just yet. I'll be having bi-lateral (double) mastectomy surgery in about 12 hours, which means I won't be blogging for a good two weeks as my body will be healing and it just won't be physically comfortable for me to be sitting down with my laptop.
I feel like I've really neglected this blog. Granted, back in May when I first disclosed that I had been diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer, I did explain that my blogging on this site would take a backseat to my health issues. And as any regular reader of this blog (are there any of you out there anymore???) knows, my blogging has been very irregular. Which is a shame, because there are certainly many bloggable events that have happened--I mean, there's the midterm elections and all the crazy stuff out there (can anyone say "Paladino"???).
And then there's the musings I've been having about issues of intersectionality, which I have blogged about early last month.
So I guess what I thought I'd leave you all with during my two week hiatus from blogging are a series of random observations and thoughts that I'm having right at this moment (warning: not sure how coherent they will be -- remember, the emphasis is on "random"):
*I saw The Social Network this afternoon and found it to be entertaining, although it failed the Bechdel test and made me cringe at the representation of women, particularly Asian American women. Apparently we are smart and hot and love to give blow jobs to geeky Harvard guys in bathroom stalls (preferably geeky Jewish Harvard guys--they are apparently creating an algorithm for why Asian women hook up with Jewish white guys). Also, apparently mixed-race Asian American women are especially "hot" in the film but also especially silent or nearly silent.
*I think Carl Paladino is an asshole. I think Rachel Maddow does too, even though she doesn't use the phrase "asshole."
*The Surrendered by Chang-rae Lee is one of the most beautiful, disturbing, haunting, lyrical, and captivating novels that I've read in recent memory. I could not put it down, even though at moments I was horrified by what I was reading. But I was horrified because these things happened--Lee writes about events that occurred during the Japanese occupation of Manchuria and the Korean war, and lets face it, while he is writing fiction, we KNOW that horrific things have happened during times of war (and during these particular events of the 20th C.). None-the-less, this is a novel that I highly recommend. It is not for the faint of heart. But I'd almost say it's required reading for anyone who cares about great literature and about the state of humanity in the 20th C.
*I wish people would really "think" before they buy all the pink ribbon stuff that is taking over seemingly every piece of merchandising and every major advertisement space in every major women's magazine during the month of October. First of all, just because something has a pink ribbon on it doesn't mean that a substantial percentage (or any percentage at all) will go to a reputable breast cancer charity. Second, National Breast Cancer Awareness Month (NBCAM) was started in 1985 by Astra Zeneca, a pharmeceutical company that makes tomoxifen, a hormone therapy that many women are put on for breast cancer (I'll be starting my own regimen post-surgery for 5 years). Astra Zeneca is owned by Imperial Chemical -- a company that makes herbicides--ones that have been documented as containing carcinogens that (wait for it...) contribute to cancer (including breast cancer). Third, we are well beyond issues of "awareness"--I mean, I think we all know someone who has breast cancer; after all, 1 in 8 women are diagnosed with breast cancer. And the Komen foundation, and others, have done a great job of turning the pink ribbon into a symbol of education. But what we REALLY need is activism--we need to fight for MORE government regulation of clean air and water. We need to hold corporations accountable for their polluting practices. 41% of Americans will develop cancer in their lifetimes and most of it is linked to the environment. While a cure for breast cancer, hell for ALL cancer would be great, what we need is for people not to get cancer in the first place. Fourth, while in terms of sheer #s, breast cancer is the 2nd leading cause of cancer related deaths for women (only lung cancer kills more women), ovarian cancer is often detected at a much later stage and thus the number of survivors is smaller--and while it's great that breast cancer has gotten so much attention (and resources) we shouldn't let the pink ribbon overshadow other cancers and other diseases impacting women's health (like heart disease).
*Finally, I'm a big Glee fan and loved this bit on last week's show:
That's all she wrote!
I feel like I've really neglected this blog. Granted, back in May when I first disclosed that I had been diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer, I did explain that my blogging on this site would take a backseat to my health issues. And as any regular reader of this blog (are there any of you out there anymore???) knows, my blogging has been very irregular. Which is a shame, because there are certainly many bloggable events that have happened--I mean, there's the midterm elections and all the crazy stuff out there (can anyone say "Paladino"???).
And then there's the musings I've been having about issues of intersectionality, which I have blogged about early last month.
So I guess what I thought I'd leave you all with during my two week hiatus from blogging are a series of random observations and thoughts that I'm having right at this moment (warning: not sure how coherent they will be -- remember, the emphasis is on "random"):
*I saw The Social Network this afternoon and found it to be entertaining, although it failed the Bechdel test and made me cringe at the representation of women, particularly Asian American women. Apparently we are smart and hot and love to give blow jobs to geeky Harvard guys in bathroom stalls (preferably geeky Jewish Harvard guys--they are apparently creating an algorithm for why Asian women hook up with Jewish white guys). Also, apparently mixed-race Asian American women are especially "hot" in the film but also especially silent or nearly silent.
*I think Carl Paladino is an asshole. I think Rachel Maddow does too, even though she doesn't use the phrase "asshole."
*The Surrendered by Chang-rae Lee is one of the most beautiful, disturbing, haunting, lyrical, and captivating novels that I've read in recent memory. I could not put it down, even though at moments I was horrified by what I was reading. But I was horrified because these things happened--Lee writes about events that occurred during the Japanese occupation of Manchuria and the Korean war, and lets face it, while he is writing fiction, we KNOW that horrific things have happened during times of war (and during these particular events of the 20th C.). None-the-less, this is a novel that I highly recommend. It is not for the faint of heart. But I'd almost say it's required reading for anyone who cares about great literature and about the state of humanity in the 20th C.
*I wish people would really "think" before they buy all the pink ribbon stuff that is taking over seemingly every piece of merchandising and every major advertisement space in every major women's magazine during the month of October. First of all, just because something has a pink ribbon on it doesn't mean that a substantial percentage (or any percentage at all) will go to a reputable breast cancer charity. Second, National Breast Cancer Awareness Month (NBCAM) was started in 1985 by Astra Zeneca, a pharmeceutical company that makes tomoxifen, a hormone therapy that many women are put on for breast cancer (I'll be starting my own regimen post-surgery for 5 years). Astra Zeneca is owned by Imperial Chemical -- a company that makes herbicides--ones that have been documented as containing carcinogens that (wait for it...) contribute to cancer (including breast cancer). Third, we are well beyond issues of "awareness"--I mean, I think we all know someone who has breast cancer; after all, 1 in 8 women are diagnosed with breast cancer. And the Komen foundation, and others, have done a great job of turning the pink ribbon into a symbol of education. But what we REALLY need is activism--we need to fight for MORE government regulation of clean air and water. We need to hold corporations accountable for their polluting practices. 41% of Americans will develop cancer in their lifetimes and most of it is linked to the environment. While a cure for breast cancer, hell for ALL cancer would be great, what we need is for people not to get cancer in the first place. Fourth, while in terms of sheer #s, breast cancer is the 2nd leading cause of cancer related deaths for women (only lung cancer kills more women), ovarian cancer is often detected at a much later stage and thus the number of survivors is smaller--and while it's great that breast cancer has gotten so much attention (and resources) we shouldn't let the pink ribbon overshadow other cancers and other diseases impacting women's health (like heart disease).
*Finally, I'm a big Glee fan and loved this bit on last week's show:
That's all she wrote!
Monday, October 11, 2010
It's National Coming Out Day (but not for Christopher Columbus)
Sorry for the radio silence from my end. Both due to fatigue from the end of chemo as well as preparation for upcoming surgery (I'll be having a bi-lateral (double) mastectomy surgery in exactly a week from now--which means blog silence for about 2 weeks as I recover) I haven't felt like blogging a lot. I can also blame part of it on chemo brain--what folks who go through chemo describe as a kind of fogginess and inability to concentrate and remember details. I am hopeful that by November I can be back to my regular blogging schedule--or at least contributing to weekly posts if not twice or thrice weekly posts.
There's certainly a lot to blog about--midterm elections, new novels I've been reading like The Surrendered by Chang-rae Lee, The Lady Matador's Hotel by Cristina Garcia, and Bitter in the Mouth by Monique Truong. And then there's the tragedies of the last month--the suicides of queer teens across the nation.
Which brings me to today.
The Human Rights Campaign is sponsoring a National Coming Out Day for today, Monday, October 11.
[Aside: It also happens to be Columbus Day, but as a friend of mine, "A" wrote on her Facebook page, in celebration of Columbus Day you should go into a stranger's house and claim it as your own.]
Whether you are gay or lesbian or straight, please take a moment to acknowledge today as national coming out day. The Human Rights Campaign has a list of activities and resources on their website (click here) to celebrate this day and to help folks who haven't come out to their family, their friends, or co-workers/acquaintances with a guide or other resources to enable them to come out (safely and hopefully with the full acceptance of those who love them).
There's certainly a lot to blog about--midterm elections, new novels I've been reading like The Surrendered by Chang-rae Lee, The Lady Matador's Hotel by Cristina Garcia, and Bitter in the Mouth by Monique Truong. And then there's the tragedies of the last month--the suicides of queer teens across the nation.
Which brings me to today.
The Human Rights Campaign is sponsoring a National Coming Out Day for today, Monday, October 11.
[Aside: It also happens to be Columbus Day, but as a friend of mine, "A" wrote on her Facebook page, in celebration of Columbus Day you should go into a stranger's house and claim it as your own.]
Whether you are gay or lesbian or straight, please take a moment to acknowledge today as national coming out day. The Human Rights Campaign has a list of activities and resources on their website (click here) to celebrate this day and to help folks who haven't come out to their family, their friends, or co-workers/acquaintances with a guide or other resources to enable them to come out (safely and hopefully with the full acceptance of those who love them).
Friday, September 17, 2010
Round #8 completed -- I'm Done with Chemo!
Yesterday marked my 8th and last round of chemotherapy--an ordeal I dealt with over 16 weeks, beginning June 10. I still have the side effects of the Taxol chemo drug to deal with, and there's still a bi-lateral (double) mastectomy surgery for me to cope with/recover from in a month, but for now I am celebrating the end of my chemo--what I hope to be my first and last chemotherapy treatment ever.
And so I'll just leave you with two things--a plug for my friends Greg Massa and Raquel Krach of Massa Orgnics. I first met Greg and Raquel at UCSB. In fact, I first met Greg when we were both freshmen living in the same dorm. I had the pleasure of visiting his family's rice farm one summer and was taken to a yummy Basque restaurant in the Chico area.
When Greg found out I had breast cancer, he put a carepackage in the mail to me filled with yummy, nourishing, and healing/organic food: brown rice, brown flour, almond butter, and my all-time favorite, ROASTED ALMONDS. The day I received his package was during my first round of chemo when I had just lost my taste buds and everything tasted like cardboard. For someone, like me, who not just loves to eat but who lives to eat, this was one sad state of affairs. So when I opened up Greg's gift, I didn't have much hope that I'd be able to taste anything. But LO AND BEHOLD! When I popped an almond in my mouth I experienced the sweet and nutty and roasted taste of one this almond which makes it HAND'S DOWN THE BEST ALMOND I'VE EVER TASTED IN MY LIFE.
And during the next few weeks, whenever I felt nauseous, I would pop almonds in my mouth--Massa almonds I mean--and they had both a calming effect on my stomach and also tasted good. A magic combination for anyone going through chemotherapy. I ordered 2 more pounds to make it through to the end of my chemo and am on my last handful as we speak.
But the other reason for me to plug Greg and Raquel on this blog is that theirs is truly a family that knows what the phrase "Mixed Race America" means:
This photo of the entire Massa-Krach family is taken from their farm's website, and as you can see, they are a beautiful family. What may or may not be evident is that all five children are adopted (and I'll be writing more on adoption and my own thoughts/feelings/experiences with this in posts to come). For me, Greg and Raquel's family is an inspiration--so between their responsible farming techniques, the yummy organic products that they sell, and the emphasis on sustainable living that they embody in all aspects of their lives, I just want to say that while I normally don't plug businesses on this blog, in this case I think you should at least take a look at their website--and if you end up ordering their rice or flour or especially some yummy almonds, you won't regret it!
Finally, let me leave you with a PSA from the National Breast Cancer Coalition, an advocacy group that is highly rated on Charity Navigator, who works not just to educate people about breast cancer but to ensure that research funds are being spent on actual scientific research AND they help lobby congress, especially to address the environmental toxins that contribute to about 80-90% of the cancer diagnoses in the U.S.--most people think it's genetic, but for women with breast cancer, only 10% carry the BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene--and even if you think another 10% is genetic based, that still means that 80% of us developed cancer because we live in a very technological, industrialized nation where the air we breathe and the water we drink and the plastics our food sits in could be contributing to cancerous cells growing in our bodies. I know that sounds scary, but I if you are interested, please read this article about breast cancer's link to the environment.
And so I'll just leave you with two things--a plug for my friends Greg Massa and Raquel Krach of Massa Orgnics. I first met Greg and Raquel at UCSB. In fact, I first met Greg when we were both freshmen living in the same dorm. I had the pleasure of visiting his family's rice farm one summer and was taken to a yummy Basque restaurant in the Chico area.
When Greg found out I had breast cancer, he put a carepackage in the mail to me filled with yummy, nourishing, and healing/organic food: brown rice, brown flour, almond butter, and my all-time favorite, ROASTED ALMONDS. The day I received his package was during my first round of chemo when I had just lost my taste buds and everything tasted like cardboard. For someone, like me, who not just loves to eat but who lives to eat, this was one sad state of affairs. So when I opened up Greg's gift, I didn't have much hope that I'd be able to taste anything. But LO AND BEHOLD! When I popped an almond in my mouth I experienced the sweet and nutty and roasted taste of one this almond which makes it HAND'S DOWN THE BEST ALMOND I'VE EVER TASTED IN MY LIFE.
And during the next few weeks, whenever I felt nauseous, I would pop almonds in my mouth--Massa almonds I mean--and they had both a calming effect on my stomach and also tasted good. A magic combination for anyone going through chemotherapy. I ordered 2 more pounds to make it through to the end of my chemo and am on my last handful as we speak.
But the other reason for me to plug Greg and Raquel on this blog is that theirs is truly a family that knows what the phrase "Mixed Race America" means:
This photo of the entire Massa-Krach family is taken from their farm's website, and as you can see, they are a beautiful family. What may or may not be evident is that all five children are adopted (and I'll be writing more on adoption and my own thoughts/feelings/experiences with this in posts to come). For me, Greg and Raquel's family is an inspiration--so between their responsible farming techniques, the yummy organic products that they sell, and the emphasis on sustainable living that they embody in all aspects of their lives, I just want to say that while I normally don't plug businesses on this blog, in this case I think you should at least take a look at their website--and if you end up ordering their rice or flour or especially some yummy almonds, you won't regret it!
Finally, let me leave you with a PSA from the National Breast Cancer Coalition, an advocacy group that is highly rated on Charity Navigator, who works not just to educate people about breast cancer but to ensure that research funds are being spent on actual scientific research AND they help lobby congress, especially to address the environmental toxins that contribute to about 80-90% of the cancer diagnoses in the U.S.--most people think it's genetic, but for women with breast cancer, only 10% carry the BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene--and even if you think another 10% is genetic based, that still means that 80% of us developed cancer because we live in a very technological, industrialized nation where the air we breathe and the water we drink and the plastics our food sits in could be contributing to cancerous cells growing in our bodies. I know that sounds scary, but I if you are interested, please read this article about breast cancer's link to the environment.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Responding to hate with charity and friendship
Tomorrow will mark the 9th anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the attempted attack on the White House.
[Aside: Although focus is almost always on Ground Zero in New York City, I think it is important to remember the people killed in the Petagon but especially in the various planes that were used in the attacks and the one plane that was successfully deterred from its White House destination, leading to the deaths of all on board.]
By now just about everyone knows the name Pastor Terry Jones and his plan to burn hundreds of copies of the Koran tomorrow (if you don't know what I'm talking about, click here for a New York Times article), as well as the waffling and last minute bartering he has been doing, linking the burning as a chip to be used to move Cordoba House--the interfaith and Islamic center that is a few blocks from the former site of the twin towers.
[Second Aside: It is REALLY important to note that it is not a mosque that is being built in lower Manhattan--it is a center that will have meeting spaces for youth groups and interfaith groups and yes a prayer room for Muslims to pray--not so unusual for lower Manhattan, especially since there was a Muslim prayer room on the 17th floor of the south tower--click here for the New York Times article.]
But rather than focus on Jones and the other voices of bigotry and Islamaphobia and hatred, I thought that a more appropriate way to observe the magnitude of our worldwide losses of tomorrow's anniversary is to actually focus on a story of charity and friendship between Christians and Muslims represented by the Heartsong Church and the neighboring Islamic Center in Memphis, TN. Essentially a year ago the pastor of the Heartsong Church, Steve Stone, learned that an Islamic Center would be built right next to the Heartsong Church, so he put up a sign that reads: "Heartsong Church welcomes Memphis Islamic Center to the neighborhood." And because the center wasn't ready in time for Ramadan observances, the leader of the center, Dr. Bashar Shala asked Pastor Stone if they could use Heartsong Church for Muslim prayer services during the month-long Ramadan observance. A true interfaith friendship--and a model for what more groups (and people) should be striving for.
For more from the Huffington Post, click here, and you can also see an interview on Keith Olberman's show with both Dr. Shala and Pastor Stone:
[Aside: Although focus is almost always on Ground Zero in New York City, I think it is important to remember the people killed in the Petagon but especially in the various planes that were used in the attacks and the one plane that was successfully deterred from its White House destination, leading to the deaths of all on board.]
By now just about everyone knows the name Pastor Terry Jones and his plan to burn hundreds of copies of the Koran tomorrow (if you don't know what I'm talking about, click here for a New York Times article), as well as the waffling and last minute bartering he has been doing, linking the burning as a chip to be used to move Cordoba House--the interfaith and Islamic center that is a few blocks from the former site of the twin towers.
[Second Aside: It is REALLY important to note that it is not a mosque that is being built in lower Manhattan--it is a center that will have meeting spaces for youth groups and interfaith groups and yes a prayer room for Muslims to pray--not so unusual for lower Manhattan, especially since there was a Muslim prayer room on the 17th floor of the south tower--click here for the New York Times article.]
But rather than focus on Jones and the other voices of bigotry and Islamaphobia and hatred, I thought that a more appropriate way to observe the magnitude of our worldwide losses of tomorrow's anniversary is to actually focus on a story of charity and friendship between Christians and Muslims represented by the Heartsong Church and the neighboring Islamic Center in Memphis, TN. Essentially a year ago the pastor of the Heartsong Church, Steve Stone, learned that an Islamic Center would be built right next to the Heartsong Church, so he put up a sign that reads: "Heartsong Church welcomes Memphis Islamic Center to the neighborhood." And because the center wasn't ready in time for Ramadan observances, the leader of the center, Dr. Bashar Shala asked Pastor Stone if they could use Heartsong Church for Muslim prayer services during the month-long Ramadan observance. A true interfaith friendship--and a model for what more groups (and people) should be striving for.
For more from the Huffington Post, click here, and you can also see an interview on Keith Olberman's show with both Dr. Shala and Pastor Stone:
Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Being aware of race
Back on May 1, when I first announced that I had been diagnosed with breast cancer, I had thought that I would share stories about my observations about the intersections of my two new worlds: cancer and race. And I did share one story -- the horrible interaction I had with the lab tech and the comical interaction I had with the radiology fellow (where my poor left breast was flopping in and out of my gown due to my wild gesticulating of my hands, since whenever I get passionate and especially ANGRY I not only raise my voice, I throw up my arms--for the full comic account of this interaction, click here).
And now that I have chemo brain, the few anecdotes I had stored away seem to have melted away with a lot of my short term memory and focus. I can recall being in the 2nd floor waiting room of my oncologist and overhearing a conversation between two workmen who were repairing the lights on the floor. One was a twenty-something Latino man and the other was a forty-something white Southerner. The men spoke to one another in English, and seemed to have an easy going or at least collegial working relationship. An African American nurse, who seemed to know the Latino man, said something to him in Spanish, which I didn't quite catch, but it made the young man smile. His colleague smiled and the young man asked him if he spoke Spanish and the forty-something man said, "Why'd I want to learn something like that for? You won't catch me speaking Hispanic--you should speak English!"
Now, the forty-something man said all of this in a relatively good-natured way, despite the offensive nature of what he was saying. I mention this because tone and facial expression makes a big difference. The forty-something white Southerner seemed to think that he was joshing and joking around with the twenty-something Latino man. And clearly, this young man DID speak English--he also happened to speak Spanish, which seems like a BONUS in this day and age. So the forty-something's vehement declaration that "you won't catch me speaking Hispanic" speaks to his limited and worldview (as well as the inaccuracy of naming "Hispanic" as a language).
As this exchange played out, I stared at the forty-something white Southerner, who noticed me noticing him, and perhaps realizing that making these kinds of jokes on the 2nd floor of the oncology ward of the cancer hospital in front of patients of various ethnic and racial backgrounds was probably not the smartest or most sensitive thing to do, because he quickly turned back to his work and told the young man to finish up with this project and then he left, ostensibly to another work project elsewhere.
I suppose what would or could have made this more uncomfortable would be the presence of a Spanish-speaking family also in the waiting room. And I have seen Latino families, and female and male patients, both on the oncology floor as well as in the chemo waiting room. There is also a Latino receptionist who is one of a dozen people who checks in patients on the ground floor before dispersing us to the various floors--radiology, mammography, chemotherapy, oncology, hematology.
[Note: I should say that the Latino receptionist, who is very nice, is also the only person I've encountered thus far at the cancer center who has run through the "what are you?" scenario with me, guessing at first that I was Japanese and then Korean and then Filipino, before settling on Chinese--to which I finally nodded. She then told me I didn't look Chinese, which I found odd, but I didn't really feel like arguing with her--the days I have to be in the cancer center are days I'm getting chemo so I try to stay as polite as I can to everyone because inside I'm just pissed off and tired and trying NOT to take out my bad mood on the folks that work there]
I mention the Latino patients and staff that I've seen because, quite frankly, they are few and far between. Most of the people I see on the various floors are either white or black. If I had to give it a ratio, I'd say 70% white, 26% black, 2% Latino and 2% Asian (although maybe I'd tweak the white-black ratio--maybe it's 30% black and 66% white...)
But one of the most remarkable things I've found is that in the 9 chemo treatments I've had over 14 weeks, in the 4 months I have been in and out of various doctor's offices, mammography clinics, and cancer floors, I have yet to see another Asian American patient. I've had fellows come into my room who are shadowing/working with my oncologist who are South Asian American. And there is a lovely volunteer, a recent grad from Southern U. who is Asian American and who will be applying to med school this year (he lives close to the hospital). And I have seen Asian faces wearing hospital scrubs or gowns--folks who are clearly associated with the cancer hospital in some way.
[Note: I have to say that because my Mom is a retired RN and because I grew up in the SF Bay Area, my own experience with hospitals, esp. the nursing staff, is that Filipino nurses are prolific (and my mother also worked with Korean and Chinese American colleagues as well). But here in the South I have yet to see a single Asian nurse of any ethnicity, which just feels so odd....]
But I haven't seen any Asian Americans sitting in a chemo chair, waiting in any of the waiting rooms, or even wearing street clothes, like I do. In other words, in the 4 months since my cancer diagnosis, I appear to be the only Asian American cancer patient at Southern U. Cancer hospital.
Logically I know this cannot be the case. There has got to be at least ONE other Asian American patient receiving chemotherpay, right? But if there is, I haven't seen him/her. And there aren't any Asian Americans in the yoga class I go to that is dedicated for cancer patients. And I've never seen any in the Cancer resource center. I haven't even seen any Asian Americans accompanying cancer patients--in fact, there aren't many inter-racial pairings in the chemo ward. Mostly it's couples and families, which means that husbands accompany wives or vice versa, and it's pretty much been black couples and white couples and Latino couples. But I haven't seen any inter-racial couples, or even inter-racial friendships--when it has been two women, it has been two African American women or two white women.
Which makes my own presence in the chemo ward an exercise in mixed race dynamics since I have had a variety of family and friends sit with me through my infusions: my Chinese Jamaican mother, my Chinese immigrant father, my white best friend from CA, my Vietnamese American close friend from Southern U, my Chicano close friend from Seattle, and of course Southern Man. We are a striking couple, I suppose, not just because Southern Man is 6 feet tall and solidly built (he's pretty strong--he can throw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes--and I'm not petite) but because I don't think most people encounter another inter-racial pairing in the chemo ward, or even in the oncology floor.
Which also may explain why everyone seemed to remember my name immediately. I mean, the cancer center sees so many people daily--there are over 100 chemo bays and my best guess is that they see at least 100 people (or more) everyday. And yet after my first visit, all of the receptionists and nurses and even the person at the parking lot seemed to remember my name. And I always thought it was odd--I mean, I know it's the South and people are friendly, but this is a large Cancer hospital--a major medical center. And the only thing I can think of that makes me different and stand out is that I may, in fact, be the only Asian American cancer patient that they have, AND I'm probably the only one who has such a mixed race entourage of friends and family accompany me to my appointments.
All of which makes me wonder, is having a mixed group of friends or being in an inter-racial relationship really so unique in the 21st century in a Southern college town? Because shouldn't I be the norm rather than the outlier? Or is it just my fate to continue to be the minority--and really, why should my minority status be any different now that I have cancer?
And now that I have chemo brain, the few anecdotes I had stored away seem to have melted away with a lot of my short term memory and focus. I can recall being in the 2nd floor waiting room of my oncologist and overhearing a conversation between two workmen who were repairing the lights on the floor. One was a twenty-something Latino man and the other was a forty-something white Southerner. The men spoke to one another in English, and seemed to have an easy going or at least collegial working relationship. An African American nurse, who seemed to know the Latino man, said something to him in Spanish, which I didn't quite catch, but it made the young man smile. His colleague smiled and the young man asked him if he spoke Spanish and the forty-something man said, "Why'd I want to learn something like that for? You won't catch me speaking Hispanic--you should speak English!"
Now, the forty-something man said all of this in a relatively good-natured way, despite the offensive nature of what he was saying. I mention this because tone and facial expression makes a big difference. The forty-something white Southerner seemed to think that he was joshing and joking around with the twenty-something Latino man. And clearly, this young man DID speak English--he also happened to speak Spanish, which seems like a BONUS in this day and age. So the forty-something's vehement declaration that "you won't catch me speaking Hispanic" speaks to his limited and worldview (as well as the inaccuracy of naming "Hispanic" as a language).
As this exchange played out, I stared at the forty-something white Southerner, who noticed me noticing him, and perhaps realizing that making these kinds of jokes on the 2nd floor of the oncology ward of the cancer hospital in front of patients of various ethnic and racial backgrounds was probably not the smartest or most sensitive thing to do, because he quickly turned back to his work and told the young man to finish up with this project and then he left, ostensibly to another work project elsewhere.
I suppose what would or could have made this more uncomfortable would be the presence of a Spanish-speaking family also in the waiting room. And I have seen Latino families, and female and male patients, both on the oncology floor as well as in the chemo waiting room. There is also a Latino receptionist who is one of a dozen people who checks in patients on the ground floor before dispersing us to the various floors--radiology, mammography, chemotherapy, oncology, hematology.
[Note: I should say that the Latino receptionist, who is very nice, is also the only person I've encountered thus far at the cancer center who has run through the "what are you?" scenario with me, guessing at first that I was Japanese and then Korean and then Filipino, before settling on Chinese--to which I finally nodded. She then told me I didn't look Chinese, which I found odd, but I didn't really feel like arguing with her--the days I have to be in the cancer center are days I'm getting chemo so I try to stay as polite as I can to everyone because inside I'm just pissed off and tired and trying NOT to take out my bad mood on the folks that work there]
I mention the Latino patients and staff that I've seen because, quite frankly, they are few and far between. Most of the people I see on the various floors are either white or black. If I had to give it a ratio, I'd say 70% white, 26% black, 2% Latino and 2% Asian (although maybe I'd tweak the white-black ratio--maybe it's 30% black and 66% white...)
But one of the most remarkable things I've found is that in the 9 chemo treatments I've had over 14 weeks, in the 4 months I have been in and out of various doctor's offices, mammography clinics, and cancer floors, I have yet to see another Asian American patient. I've had fellows come into my room who are shadowing/working with my oncologist who are South Asian American. And there is a lovely volunteer, a recent grad from Southern U. who is Asian American and who will be applying to med school this year (he lives close to the hospital). And I have seen Asian faces wearing hospital scrubs or gowns--folks who are clearly associated with the cancer hospital in some way.
[Note: I have to say that because my Mom is a retired RN and because I grew up in the SF Bay Area, my own experience with hospitals, esp. the nursing staff, is that Filipino nurses are prolific (and my mother also worked with Korean and Chinese American colleagues as well). But here in the South I have yet to see a single Asian nurse of any ethnicity, which just feels so odd....]
But I haven't seen any Asian Americans sitting in a chemo chair, waiting in any of the waiting rooms, or even wearing street clothes, like I do. In other words, in the 4 months since my cancer diagnosis, I appear to be the only Asian American cancer patient at Southern U. Cancer hospital.
Logically I know this cannot be the case. There has got to be at least ONE other Asian American patient receiving chemotherpay, right? But if there is, I haven't seen him/her. And there aren't any Asian Americans in the yoga class I go to that is dedicated for cancer patients. And I've never seen any in the Cancer resource center. I haven't even seen any Asian Americans accompanying cancer patients--in fact, there aren't many inter-racial pairings in the chemo ward. Mostly it's couples and families, which means that husbands accompany wives or vice versa, and it's pretty much been black couples and white couples and Latino couples. But I haven't seen any inter-racial couples, or even inter-racial friendships--when it has been two women, it has been two African American women or two white women.
Which makes my own presence in the chemo ward an exercise in mixed race dynamics since I have had a variety of family and friends sit with me through my infusions: my Chinese Jamaican mother, my Chinese immigrant father, my white best friend from CA, my Vietnamese American close friend from Southern U, my Chicano close friend from Seattle, and of course Southern Man. We are a striking couple, I suppose, not just because Southern Man is 6 feet tall and solidly built (he's pretty strong--he can throw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes--and I'm not petite) but because I don't think most people encounter another inter-racial pairing in the chemo ward, or even in the oncology floor.
Which also may explain why everyone seemed to remember my name immediately. I mean, the cancer center sees so many people daily--there are over 100 chemo bays and my best guess is that they see at least 100 people (or more) everyday. And yet after my first visit, all of the receptionists and nurses and even the person at the parking lot seemed to remember my name. And I always thought it was odd--I mean, I know it's the South and people are friendly, but this is a large Cancer hospital--a major medical center. And the only thing I can think of that makes me different and stand out is that I may, in fact, be the only Asian American cancer patient that they have, AND I'm probably the only one who has such a mixed race entourage of friends and family accompany me to my appointments.
All of which makes me wonder, is having a mixed group of friends or being in an inter-racial relationship really so unique in the 21st century in a Southern college town? Because shouldn't I be the norm rather than the outlier? Or is it just my fate to continue to be the minority--and really, why should my minority status be any different now that I have cancer?
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