iamasiam

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

“Turn and face the strain”, goes the 70’s Bowie hit about self-reinvention. ^[1] You get a pre-coffee jolt this morning when your visiting grand daughter asks you about that that red-eyed, mullet-frocked, tie-dyed image that your kind old “friend” drunk-posted  in Facebook one night.  (It’s not that bad of a shot, really—minus of course that background object in the likeness of a bong.)

Now that you are Fox-News-following, Sunday-service-attending, Wall-Street-investing, Hair-Club-concealing grown-up, you sigh in relief—perhaps, in disbelief—at how much you’ve come round.   You take that first gulp of coffee and stare down that snoopy nerd across the dining table: “It was a Halloween costume party, Sweetheart!”

It has been a long, arduous and oft-times circuitous forty years to get to where you are now. Taken to an emergency text message, your grand inquisitor swiftly drops the subject.  Taken to the thought of a more truthful answer, you also wonder where the next decades will bring you?  You shun immediate thoughts of hip replacement, Pampers and Poligrip. A careless, fun-loving, starry-eyed youth then comes to mind.

Writes John Thierny in his recent article in the NY Times, research suggests many of us tend to play down future changes in our personality and tastes. ^[2] Back to the seventies, you think.  “Now, how do you erase images in Facebook?” you interrupt the tech guru from her annoying iPhone thumb tapping.

^[1] facebook.com/davidbowie
^[2] John Thierny, “Why You Won’t Be the Person You Expect to Be”, The New York Times, Jan. 3, 2013

Target: Tagalog-Speaking Witnesses for Jehovah

Emerging from a church basement thrift shop with my prized haul, I notice a van just pulling up behind my car.  More bargain hunters, I thought.  As I am about to pull out, an African-American lady’s face bobs down smiling at me through my right front window.  Lost?  Asking for directions?  Do I know this woman?  I lower my window.  Vivian introduces herself in perfect metropolitan Tagalog ^[1].

I respond in the vernacular, challenging her into a light conversation.  She holds her own.  Sans good practice, I am ready to clutch on to my own to clarify a few things I am unsure of:  How does she know the language?  How does she know I would respond?  Where are we going with this?

Before I could speak further, she reaches deep into her handbag for a clasp of printed material.  Oh, now I get it.  We’re in front of her church.  She’s inviting me to her congregation—for a donation, perhaps.  I glance at the clock and brace for an excuse to go along my way.  She realizes my intention and hands me two magazine publications from Jehovah’s Witnesses ^[2].  And, yes, all the text is in Tagalog.  I revert to English to say goodbye, thank you and good luck.

I’m both amused and puzzled by this exchange.  How sophisticated is the marketing effort of this church to recognize the right audience for their very specific target market?  As I pull out from my parking spot, I glance at my rear view mirror.  Stepping back into her van, Vivian has started chatting with her companion, a Filipino woman.

Now, how do I know she’s Filipino?

^[1] omniglot.com
^[2] jw.org

Racial Amnesia (And Reminders)

My other half confesses forgetting sometimes what my race is.  I must admit I myself lose sight of the fact that my eye slant, bone structure and skin color shout “Asian” in its entire splendor.  Good or bad?  I guess it depends.

Needless to say, I’m proud of my racial, cultural and historical background.  And, yet, sometimes I feel warm and fuzzy just being lost in a crowd of sorts, as when everyone around you screams his or her own unique individuality and yet meld altogether in this grand mosaic of humanity.  (Okay, so I’m walking around Grand Central Terminal contemplating grand thoughts.  And, no, I don’t smoke weed!)

On a day-to-day basis, I do get such bursts of a moment, and I love it.  Luckily, I live and work in quite a racially diverse neighborhood.  Elsewhere however—well, let me put it this way—such bursts sometimes take on a lighter flavor.

***

Seated by the window in a tourist bus that slows down in a very rural town in Ireland, this attentive tourist becomes both the observer and the observed.  A little boy caught this distinct face glaring out from that window, quickly recreates a classic Bruce Lee stance for my observing pleasure.  “Hiyaah!”

***

At a Bangkok street corner, a petite young Thai lady offers her assistance.  This distressed tourist couple obviously finds much difficulty in deciphering the local tourist site directions.  Ignoring me, the Thai lady first starts talking to the “White One” in her difficult but passable English.  Once I speak in turn without the Thai accent, her face turns to me, brightens up in apparent awe and amusement, and exclaims, “Oh, I thought you Thai people.”

He's Got a Thing

He’s Hanni El Khatib, a young musician whose song was featured recently in a Nike commercial.  His thing of course is his music, but not only that. He has a background that helps bond his talent and musical persona. An NPR article about him offers this description of him: ^[1]

A first-generation American of Palestinian and Filipino descent, El Khatib was raised in San Francisco during the emergence of skateboard culture. Despite his international background, he says he grew up listening to classic Americana music, '60s soul, surf, doo-wop and British Invasion rock.

Jon Caramanica of the New York Times writes of his talent: ^[2]

But while this music sounds as if it were pasted together with spit and glue, really it’s far more contained and considered.

That’s American spit and glue, Mr. Caramanica, and that’s what ought to bind anyone else with such a multi-cultural background and unbridled talent.

^[1] npr.com
^[2] Jon Caramanica, “Songs of Abandon, Love and Everday”, The New York Times, Oct. 14, 2011

The Most Typical Vs. Desired Face in the World

Twenty-eight years old, Male, and Chinese.  That’s the profile of the most typical person in the world according to research from the National Geographic Magazine.  Of course, it’s also nice of them to render a composite image of that person’s face based on thousands of photographs. ^[1]

As Arte Johnson would exclaim, “Very interesting!”  Even more interesting perhaps would be a composite of what the most aspired face in this planet might be.  Of course, the cop-out would be, “It depends.”  But, let’s stretch our imagination here for a second.  And, feel free leaping to the similarly sensational conclusions as the publication has done.  If you can change your face, what will that face look like? 

Many have taken this interest to greater—and more serious—lengths, altering their own face via cosmetic surgery.  According to the New York Times, having the extreme makeover is highly in demand especially among the immigrant communities here.  The motive varies but assimilation seems to be the pervading theme, the need to look “more American”. ^[2]

Very interesting, indeed!

^[1] Liz Goodman, “The Most Typical Face in the Planet”, The Lookout, Yahoo! News, Mar. 3, 2011
^[2] Sam Dolnick, “Ethnic Differences Emerge in Plastic Surgery”, The New York Times, Feb. 18, 2011

 

The Year of the Bunny

Do you celebrate Chinese New Year?  Actually, it’s not really just the Chinese who celebrate it.  To many other Asian groups, the turn of the lunar calendar is a very important time for family gatherings, much like Thanksgiving is to the rest of us.

When do you celebrate it?  Typically, the revelries last for ten days.  And, much like how the Gothic Church has its own timetable for Christmas, Thailand has its own.

How do you celebrate it and with whom?  I’m not talking about going to Chinatown to see the lion dancers shake their booties to bring good fortune from door to door.  Do you know that while firecrackers are banned in NYC, just across the border in Connecticut, retailers sell them?

Feeling sorry for all the Chinese restaurant workers who couldn’t take the time off?   Yes, they must feel like Bob Cratchit on Christmas Eve.  Though you don’t particularly observe this holiday yourself, you still feel drawn to order dumplings, lo mien, and chicken and broccoli at this time.  Tsing Tsao beer sounds especially appealing.  Why, it’s just like Cinco de Mayo, St. Patrick’s Day, or Halloween’s Day—even if your not Mexican, Irish, or dead!  Any excuse for debauchery, you’re down with it!

I admit that this year, I’m feeling very fortunate.  I’ve received more invitations for a Chinese New Year party—or, for some, a Chinese New Year theme party—than in previous years.  Looking at the roster of guests invited, I’m not surprised that many are not even Chinese—or Asian, for that matter.  In fact, it could have been a Cinco de Mayo, St. Patrick’s Day, or Halloween’s Day party, I would think.  Salud!  Slainte!  Long live!

So how do I partake of this ten-day window of opportunity for uncommon revelry?  I’m playing pinochle, one day with family and the next with friends.  I hope to shoot the moon at both occasions.  They say round objects are particularly auspicious at this time, so I’ll try doing a Mexican spin on meatballs, in tomatillo sauce with rice and beans on the side.  Or maybe, I'll order Chinese take-out (again).  But this time, I promise to be more gracious tipping my delivery boy.  To him and to my family and friends, I’ll then raise my Smithwick’s and cry:  Gong Xi Fa Cai!

Dual Identity. Singular Divide.

In America, do religious differences matter less today than in the past?  Yes, writes Mike Oppenheimer in his Beliefs column today ^[1], citing at least the Latino community’s widening acceptance of people with dual religious identities.  Case in point is Florida’s senator-elect Marc Rubio.  While self-described as a practicing Catholic, in his campaign, Mr. Rubio has regularly attended evangelical services at Christ Fellowship, which is affiliated with the Southern Baptist Convention.
 
It may be true that some religious institutions impose less stringent restrictions with regards their followers dabbling into practices of other faiths.  A Buddhist friend of mine attests that it is not a “sin” for her go to Christian Sunday “worship” as she does.  However, Mr. Oppenheimer points out that Protestants and Catholics have important elements in their creeds that are simply at odds with each other, such as the authority of the pope and the meaning of Holy Communion.

Critics say Marc Rubio was simply courting to both Catholic and Protestant voters in the last elections.  I disagree with his politics but, as it seems, Mr. Rubio has found a very good niche.  He has targeted a growing number of Hispanics who may view religious identity to be less important a criterion in casting their ballot.

Does this mean Americans are finally putting to heart the oft-misunderstood concept of separation of church and state? ^[2] Maybe not!  One aspiring presidential candidate does not even know that such an amendment exists.  Many in fact believe the religious beliefs of some are quite at odds with the American way of life.  And, there are those out there who would swear--to God, perhaps--that President Obama is a Muslim? ^[3]

^[1] Mike Oppenheimer, “Marc Rubio: Catholic or Protestant”, The New York Times, Nov. 27, 2010
^[2] religioustolerance.org
^[3] brookings.com

Enlightened

High expectations!  What else can you expect from a novel that won the Man Asia Literary Prize of 2008^[1] even before the book was published?  This ambitious project casts such a wide net of multiple plot lines and character perspectives that span several generations.  Michael Dirda^[2] of The Washington Post describes Miguel Syjuco’s novel, Ilustrado, as an example of “literary bricolage”.

…Bringing together Filipino jokes, transcripts from "The Burley Raconteur" blog, real history and people, made-up footnotes and the narrator's increasingly nightmarish dreams and experiences, some heightened by snorts of cocaine.^[3]

It is in fact such an assemblage of parts, which makes the novel unique and successful in its reach.  Mr. Dirda points out that the prize for such literary awards typically go to “earnest, high-minded, politically correct and rather dull books”.  Without a doubt, Ilustrado is atypical.

Its craftiness may sometimes prove distractive--style over substance?  That may be true for outsiders including Filipino Americans not quite enlightened enough by the complex weave of style and substance that has long pervaded the multi-layered Philippine society—a product of “three centuries in a Catholic convent and fifty years in Hollywood”.^[4] If you’re not privileged with that distinct advantage of a split personality, you won’t likely get this joke.

“Three male students loiter around Shoe Mart Megamall”, one note said.  “One is from the exclusive Ateneo de Manila University.  One from the rival De La Salle University.  The third, name Erning Isip, is from the populist AMA Computer College.  The three students spot a very pretty light-skinned girl.  Each of the boys takes a turn at trying to woo her.  The Atenista says: “Why, hello there.  Perhaps I should text my driver to bring my BMW around to chauffeur us to the Polo Club so we can get some gindara?”  The Lasallista says: “Wow, you’re so talagang pretty, as in totally ganda gorgeous.  Are you hungry at all?  Let’s ride my CRV and I’ll make libre fried chicken skin and Cuba libers at Dencio’s bar and grill.”  Erning Isip, the AMA Computer College student, timidly approaches the girl.  Scratching the back of his head, he says:  “Miss, please miss, give me autograph?”^[3]

Through such intricacies, Mr. Syjuco successfully brings out the substance of his work that is equally, if not more, complex.

That’s the problem, we’ve written one book, and it’s been re-bound again and again.  So many re-presentations of the war, the struggle of the haves and have-nots, People Power Revolutions on Edsa, whatever.  All those Pinoy writers industriously criticizing.  All those critics tirelessly writing.  About unsuccessful 1970 rebellions, 1990s domestic dramas.  Or the Filipino-Americans, eagerly roosting in pigeonholes, writing about the cultural losses that come with being raised in a foreign country, or being not only brown, but a woman, and a lesbian, or half-blind, or lower-middle-class, or whatever.  Oh my, what a crime against humanity that the world doesn’t read Filipino writing!^[3]

I’ll just have to read Ilustrado again.  Or, whatever! 

^[1] Man Asia Literary Prize
^[2] Michael Dirda, “Book review: 'Ilustrado' by Miguel Syjuco”, The Washington Post, May 6, 2010
^[3] Miguel Syjuco, “Ilustrado”, Farrar, Straus and Giroux: 2010
^[4] Stanley Karnow, “In Our Image”, Ballantine Books: 1989

I Am [Blank]

Peter Nathaniel Malae takes us on a rough airboat ride across the thick multi-cultural marsh of a novel, “What We Are”. ^[1]  Malae eventually emerges using his effectively rhythmic rants to waddle readers through a maze of cultural convergences and conflicts.  His palate of characters include his Jamaican muse-cum-sex-partner, Latino immigration activists, his Polynesian real estate con-artist uncle, Filipino cock-fighting aficionados, his more heavily assimilated half sister, among others.  Discomforts grace each encounter but perhaps the greatest discomfort is that which bellows from within.

Being a half-breed must be part my problem.  When I applied to college out of high school, I didn’t know what to fill in under the category of race.  Long distance from American Samoa, my father said over the phone, “Mark Polynesian,” but I couldn’t.  Neither could I mark white.  I just left the damned thing blank.  And that’s exactly how I felt about it: blank.  Still do, actually, don’t care either way.  By now I know that every culture in the world is equally beautiful, equally ugly.

Malae could have aptly titled his work, “Who I Am”.  That would have been apt.  His sights overshoot:  “What We Are”.  Imagine walking down the grocery’s cereal aisle—boxes upon boxes, flavors upon flavors, brands upon brands.  There’s something for everyone.  Yet, one can leave empty-handed.   

***

Never judge a book by its cover, they say.  This reader first perceived the image in the cover as a heavily tattooed Samoan man’s face.  Upon closer inspection, these astigmatic lenses reveal that the tattooed images were in fact flags of different nations.

^[1] Peter Nathaniel Malae, “What We Are”, Grove Press, NY: 2010, page 4

Asian American International Film Festival 2010

AAIFF'10 starts today with film exhibitions scheduled at various venues in NYC. Check out http://www.aaiff.org/2010 for tickets and more information.

The AAIFF's vision: More than an expression of collective identity, the festival is anchored by the distinct contributions of its members. It is a platform for filmmakers of all backgrounds to develop the constructs of Asian cinema and cultivate the next generation of talent.

The Language of Self-Discovery

It publishers have dubbed Wang Gang’s “English” as a “transcendent novel about the power of language to launch a journey of self-discovery”.  This journey is set during the Cultural Revolution, a sad period in China’s history.  One might expect the author’s work to be laden with grief and bereft of humor.  Not the case!

Mr. Gang exploits the childish innocence and curiosity of his main character, a young schoolboy studying the English language, to describe the mode of the times.  In this exchange between the main character (narrating), his schoolmate (Garbage Li) and the school principal, Mr. Gang injects humor when the boys are called into the principal’s office to be punished for their misdeed.  This humor just naturally flows over and envelopes the mood of the discussion that follows.  It broaches on what perhaps may be the author’s main point--a sad one, albeit—in this smart, endearing and--at times--lighthearted novel.

Garbage Li fixed his eyes on the ground. I was looking up at the ceiling.  I heard the principal say, “It’s you.  Were you two fighting?”

“Mr. Principal, he hit me first,” Garbage Li declared.

“Shut up!  I am not asking you!” the principal barked.  Garbage Li lowered his head.  The principal then turned to me.  “What did he say to you?”

“He said, ‘You’re an asshole.’”

The principal was infuriated, as if he were the object of the remark. “Li Jian-ming, did you say that?”

“Mr. Principal, I didn’t say you’re an asshole.  I said he’s an asshole.”

The principal pounded on the desk and boomed, “You are not allowed to say that to anyone, period!”

Garbage Li and I were silent. The principal paused for a moment.  “You!  Go back to your classroom now and write a self-criticism statement.  It has be thorough and soul-searching!”

Garbage Li walked to the door.  Hen then stopped and turned around.  “Mr. Principal, what is a soul?” he asked.

The principal was about to say something.  “Soul…,” he began, then changed his tack.  “Don’t worry about what it is, just go and write your self-criticism.

Garbage Li finally left, feeling wronged.

What is a soul?  What is soul-searching?  I wondered, too.

Discovering one’s self, you’ll need the words to describe it.

[1] Wang Gang, “English”, Viking, 2009

China's Soul Searching (In English)

It is the sixth in a series of school stabbings in China.  A Time reporter aptly explores the underlying reasons for such attacks, including the Chinese citizen’s lack of access to mental health care and the legal system’s deficiency in providing ample recourse to injustice. ^[1] One could not help but argue that much soul searching is needed even if only to cushion the emotional blow such violence has impacted on its victims and their relatives.

#

In Wang Gang’s powerful novel, “English”, set in the dark days of the Cultural Revolution, the story revolves around preteens in their process of self-discovery while learning a new language in school.  In one of such revelations, one of the children called into the school principal’s office questions the punishment just wrought upon. ^[2]

“Go back to your classroom now and write a self-criticism statement.  It has to be thorough and soul-searching!”

“Mr. Principal, what is a soul?”

“Don’t worry about what it is, just go and write your self-criticism.”

#

A close relative, obviously religious, forwarded me one of those chain letters which argues that, “even from a purely secular viewpoint”, in countries where there is “genuine humbling & seeking of God through prayer”, general prosperity follows.  I argued that China is now one of the strongest economies in the world.  What is their religious base, I asked? <sup>[3]

[1]</sup> Austin Ramzy, “China's Soul Searching as School Knifings Continue”, Time, May 12, 2010
^[2] Wang Gang, “English”, Viking, 2009
^[3] See related article, “God Vs. Gov”

Happy (Immigrant) Mother's Day

I love you, Mom!

Are You Diversity Challenged?

Take a quick test below!  If you’re dating or have a close friend outside your race, you’re exempt from this test.  If you’re Mother Theresa volunteering for some community or church project where needy minorities look up to you with appreciation, even admiration—and disbelief—that’s no free pass.  If you live in a city like Mud Creek, Kentucky, where you can count people of color with your fingers, there’s no need to continue, nor count; you’re out!  If you’re Jesse Helms or Louis Farrakhan,…well, never mind!

First, take a look at the last three dinner parties you’ve hosted at home.  If you’ve never hosted one at all or, worse, if you’ve never had anyone over before, click here: Social Anxiety Disorder. Holiday celebrations and sit-down dinners carry more weight, so count those as two events each.  Office parties are less important; count those as only half an event each.  Add up the points.

Example:
Sit-down dinner party = 2 points
Super Bowl buffet = 1 point
Office Christmas party = 0.5 point
Total = 3.5 points

Next, try to recall approximately how many guests you had in those three dinner parties.  Break that out into four major groups:  How many Caucasians?  African Americans? Asians or Pacific Islanders?  How many are Hispanic?  (I know it’s easier if it’s the same group of people in all three parties.  But wait a minute, no cheating here!  We’re not counting only family members here, in case that’s all you’ve got.)  Following US Census protocol^[1], you may classify one person in more than just one group, e.g., Wyclef Jean, African American and Hispanic.

Example:
Total = 7
Caucasian = 4
African American = 2
Asian or Pacific Islander = 1
Hispanic = 1

Now, think about what each of their ethnic roots might be by country.  (Only Native Americans get to pick USA, ok?)  And, don’t get too involved with the schmuck who always goes about complicating your life with his German, Italian AND Irish lineage.  Just pick one randomly please.  (By the way, remind the schmuck he forgot Africa in his list, and dare him to confirm that with a simple genealogy test.^[2] Now, count all the countries you come up with.

Example:
Total = 7
Ireland = 3
Italy=1
Thailand = 1
Puerto Rico = 2

The last exercise really doesn’t count.  It’s just interesting to know, isn’t it?

Now, we’re down to the wire here.  (Said very quickly as in those advertisement statement of liabilities and limitations:) For your total score, multiply your dinner party points by the number of major racial groups you’ve classified your total guests into.

Example
3.5 points x 4 groups = 14 (total score)

If your total score is less than 3, you are Diversity Challenged.  Get a life!  You’re an adult now; move out of your parents' already!  Go learn something!

If your total score is from 3 to 9, you are Diversity Ripe (or Ripening), almost there for the picking or already picked, savored, appreciated—and maybe—even discriminated upon.

If your total score is 10 or higher, you are Diversity Savvy.  But of course, you didn’t need this unscientific test to know that, did you?  Hillary, if that’s you—quick, what’s the capital of Tuvalu?^[3]

^[1] US Census
^[2] familytreedna.com
^[3] geography.about.com

Happy (Mixed) Valentine’s Day

Asked what the country may look like with the increasing acceptance of mixed-race marriages, Henry Louis Gates Jr. responded: ^[1]

I’m looking forward to the time when we all look like Polynesians.

***

Indeed Americans have become more open in embracing interracial marriages of late.  A recent Pew Research Center survey says that, in fact, more than one in five American adults have a close relative who is married to someone of another race. Moreover, most in the younger set (18-to-29 year olds) accept the concept of interracial dating and marriage. ^[2]
 

***

Visiting a chef/restaurateur friend running a Valentine’s dinner special, I noticed a proud gleam in the young faces of a mixed couple as they walked in and looked at each other while waiting to be escorted to their table.  Yes, they evidently sparkled of the romance fluttering between them.  But also they shone of peace and comfort, knowing that the other couples there will not cast a judging eye on them.

But, wait, I noticed a gay couple also partaking of the celebration.  They seem to be quite relaxed and enjoying the evening as well.  Were there harsh looks from anyone?  I couldn’t tell.  (At least they’re not in Malawi.  Who knows someday, Mr. Gates, Polynesia?)

^[1] Deborah Solomon, “Questions for Henry Louis Gates Jr.: After the Beer Summit”, The New York Times Magazine, Feb. 14, 2010
^[2] Pew Research Center

The King and I

I was one of the darkest boys in elementary school so I earned the name “Chocolate”.  Children can be very mean.  But I’m fine with that, thinking about the meaner names others in my class year endured.

It didn’t help that I was born post-mature and that I, as I am told, developed dark skin pigmentation as a result of my being “overcooked” in my mother’s womb.  I never questioned the science behind such proclamations.  My older sister, already in medical school then, sounded quite authoritative.

It didn’t help that my parents loved going away on weekends to the beaches or the hot spring pools.  Sometimes, we’d be off to my grandfather’s home in the countryside where the open rice fields were readily accessible from his backyard.  I had plenty of sun.  As a backup, there was always the front-lawn that served as my playpen.

It didn’t help that my complexion drew more attention, because my closest friends in elementary school happened to be the palest of the palest, including two white boys who shared my super-hero play fantasies.  (I was Cyclops—because I thought the shades were cool.)

Now living in New York, I am fortunate enough to have—at least, knowingly—eluded being a victim of racial prejudice.  Well, not really!  There’s one instance where a cab driver called me a f***ing foreigner.  Naïve, I thought it was because, unfamiliar with the streets in Queens, I didn’t provide him ample directions, and we got lost.

My skin is brown; my Cyclops eyes are slit.  You can call me Chocolate almonds.  I’m fine with that.  Thank you, MLK!

Hapa, Meet Korasian. Korasian, Hapa.

It is refreshing to know that Americans of mixed racial background are celebrating their identity more than ever before. ^[1] Still, one does not have to look too far back in time to see how ignorance and hate still fan stubborn resistance towards interracial relationships.

Just a month ago, a Louisiana justice of the peace has refused to officiate an interracial marriage.  The judge rejects that he is a racist and says he is merely concerned that the couple would produce a biracial offspring.  His belief is that their children would suffer by not being accepted by either side of the family. ^[2]

Regardless of the various pockets in today’s society that still believe it is unconscionable for races to mix, we have come a long way.  Think about the response you would have elicited last Thanksgiving if the dinner guest you may have brought home with you were of a different skin color.  Would it have carried the same punch as when Sidney Poitier walked in on that scene in “Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner” half a century ago? ^[3] In contrast, broad ethnic violence continues to split countries and families around the world.

In these times of mounting deficits, it is good to know that the spirit of racial tolerance and appreciation can be a valuable American export.  Yet, we still have much to learn from other societies who are just now experiencing the growing pains of dealing with interracial relationships and the soul searching as a result of the new generation of Korasians.  For example, South Korea is currently experiencing a baby boom from mixed marriages. In the last three years, their government has opened 119 multicultural family support centers across the land to offer help in education and vocational training to address the stigma associated with it. ^[4] In the spirit of free trade, can we have one of those centers installed in Louisiana, please?

^[1] See related post, “Hapa”
^[2] Associated Press, “Interracial Couple Denied Marriage License By Louisiana Justice Of The Peace”, The Huffington Post, Oct. 15, 2009
^[3] http://www.imdb.com
^[4] Martin Fackler, “Baby Boom of Mixed Children Tests South Korea”, The New York Times, Nov. 28, 2009

I Dream Of India: Then and Now

In his recent New York Times column ^[1], Akash Kapur describes how India’s image has changed over the years with positive shifts in stereotypes following newfound material prosperity. Replacing the “three C’s: caste, cows and curry” are “technology, outsourcing, billionaires, Bollywood”.

He cites examples culled from sources of but limited casual contact with Indians.  A taxi driver, working as a shuttle-bus driver in last summer’s U.S. Open, is astonished that his Indian passengers are taking expensive box seats.  A newspaper vendor notices the young Indian sisters next door do not wear the “red dot” on their foreheads and that they walk with an “American swagger”.

That is, perhaps, why such perceptions brush only the surface.  As the third largest Asian American ethnic group and with close to 2 million Indian Americans living across this country ^[2], the odds are that more personal interactions with Indians would merit a strong influence in shaping stereotypes other than what is skin-deep.

A writer for various other publications such The Atlantic, The Economist, Granta, The New York Times Book Review, The New Yorker, among others, Mr. Kapur himself acknowledges that the clichés belie the more complex layers of what is India today.  “I know there’s a lot more to the country than smart and rich technology workers who are stealing American jobs and buying box seats in the U.S. Open”, he writes.

I trust also that Akash Kapur whose father is Indian and whose mother is American has himself received more substantive feedback from more personal sources other than the occasional taxi driver and newspaper vendor.  Living in America for twelve years before his decision to move back to India six years ago puts him in an auspicious position to capture such complexities from various perspectives of those he touched and who touched him.  I am anxious to read such revelations in his future works, perhaps in his upcoming non-fiction slated for publication next year.

In an earlier column for Granta Magazine ^[3], he alludes to the “genuine openness and friendliness” of Americans that he first misconstrued as superficial.  He also reveals that it was “a feeling of estrangement, and of cultural and ideological isolation” that has also driven him to move back to the home that he missed.  He seems severely impacted by “the ‘war on terror’ and the war in Iraq – and more broadly, the war on civil liberties “.  He writes, “It had taken me many years to feel American; by the time I left, I was once again an outsider.”

Indeed, it would also be interesting to understand his own perceptions of India--and, yes, American--from both the eyes of the American and the outsider.  I’m guessing his view have shifted just as well from when he first received “crude reactions” as a child to when he now wields the fearless maturity to share his reflections in his well-polished craft.  I’m hoping his optic cuts more deeply through the stereotypes and clichés.

^[1]Akash Kapur, “Letter from India: Exchanging One Cliché for Another”, The New York Times, Nov. 5, 2009
^[2]U.S. Census 2000
^[3]Akash Kapur, “Learning to Love America, Again”, Granta Magazine, Nov. 3, 2008

Dear Prudence Says: Enough with Obsession with Ethnic Identity

What would your own advice be to Miss Manila Dilemna whose White parents can’t get past seeing her husband as only Filipino?

Muslim Punk: Through Kim Badawi's Lens

Photographer and journalist Kim Badawi's photographs from his book “The Taqwacores: Muslim Punk in the U.S.A." are currently on display at powerHouse Books¹ in Brooklyn, NY. The author will be on hand this Saturday to talk about the Muslim punk scene that has emerged since he first imagined it in an earlier novel he wrote.²

The film clip below features the very band members whom Mr. Badawi have inspired to start a Muslim punk movement. One motivation was to channel inner conflicts related to growing up Muslim in America. Basim Usmani, a Pakistan American and member of the punk band "The Kominas" spells that out succinctly.

Both my parents are Pakistani but both have very firm ideas of what they like wanted me to be like when i was growing up. They want their kids to do well in school, be part of the Math team, go to MIT, and become doctors. And, I wasn't having any of it because it just wasn't who I was.

The same motivation may have been what led Mr. Badawi to punk rock, to write about it and now to share his photographs of the very movement that he inspired.

I think it's just the sense that being American somehow makes you less Muslim, and being Muslim somehow makes you less American. So it’s just on the margins of the margins of the margins. Punk gave me the courage to be a Muslim, and I think in America today. Being Muslim itself is very punk rock, y’know.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

1powerhousebooks.com
2Nida Najar, “Taqwacore Documented: Images of Muslim American Punk”, The New York Times, Oct. 2, 2009

Study Hard, Play by the Rules, and Speak Up.

Valerie Whitney, business writer for the News Journal, could not have better recapped her report on the theme of the last Asian American Hotel Owners Association (AAHOA)¹ meeting with the invocation expressed by guest speaker Councilman Josh Wagner (Volusia, Florida): “You need to speak up guys.”²

The councilman encouraged the estimated 100 hotel owners in attendance to participate more actively in public hearings on such issues as property taxes.  (AAHOA is scheduled to participate in two upcoming townhall meetings in Fort Myers, Sept. 23, and Tampa, Sept.24.)  The other speakers also summoned all to redefine its relationship with their local government and tourism development councils. 

Noting that already the majority of Best Western franchisees are Indian American-owned, the Florida regional director of the organization, Kirit Patidar, also urged members to play a more active role in the political process beginning with public issues that have a direct impact on their business.

But it was Bharat Patel of Econo Lodges of America Franchise Association Inc. in Sarasota, who echoing such a plea, delved into why Indian Americans who have become major players in the industry are holding themselves back.

All of us in this room have four things in common. Our parents told us to study hard, get a good education and play by the rules. They also told us not to get involved with politics. But the last eight years has taught us that the American Dream is slipping away.

There is comfort for some, including our more senior Asian Americans, in keeping with traditional tenets, but those are not enough to sustain us and succeed in the broader American landscape.  It is a difficult balancing act for some, but a necessary one, which our forefathers facing more severe circumstances in our history have more heavily invested in.  Speak up!

¹www.aahoa.com
²Valerie Whitney, “Association director: Asian hoteliers must be more visible”, Daytona Beach News Journal, September 19, 2009

Korean Adoptee: “Like my family, I saw myself as white.”

The non-profit organization, Families with Children from China¹, aims to connect, sustain and celebrate families with children adopted from China. Their New York chapter² is hosting the screening of the movie "Adopted, the Movie" by first-time director Barb Lee, which tells the moving story of two families adopting their child from overseas.³

We've seen them in grocery stores, playgrounds and at our children's schools - little Asian girls with their loving white parents. Of the 1.5 million adopted children in the United States, international adoptees are the fastest growing segment, of which most are Asian girls. While many of their stories are heartwarming and reflect our image of American compassion and generosity, the realities are much more complex. According to the Journal of the American Medical Association, adoptees have significantly more behavioral problems than non-adopted children.

Adopted reveals the grit rather than the glamor of transracial adoption. First-time director Barb Lee goes deep into the intimate lives of two well-meaning families and shows us the subtle challenges they face. One family is just beginning the process of adopting a baby from China and is filled with hope and possibility. The other family's adopted Korean daughter is now 32 years old. Prompted by her adoptive mother's terminal illness, she tries to create the bond they never had. The results are riveting, unpredictable and telling. While the two families are at opposite ends of the journey, their stories converge to show us that love isn't always enough.

The event will be held on Saturday, October 24, 2009, at the Theater in the Ossining Public Library⁴ (53 Croton Avenue, Ossining, New York, 10562). Registration opens at 1:15 pm; the film starts promptly at 1:30PM. The fee is $10 per ticket. For more information, go to www.fccny.org. Here’s the movie trailer:

¹www.fwcc.org
²www.fccny.org
³www.adoptedthemovie.com
⁴www.ossininglibrary.org

A Muslim American Drama: To heal and bring us together!

"Art can heal and art can be a bridge that brings cultures together", says Wajahat Ali, a Pakistani American playwright, in a recent TV interview about his play entitled "The Domestic Crusaders."

In her NY Times column, Laurie Goodstein does a good job describing the background and theme of Wajahat’s play. It seems as far-reaching in its goals as its content is deeply personal, culled directly from the playwright’s own family drama.¹

Very few dramas about the contemporary Muslim experience in America have made it to the stage. Muslims from Pakistan, India and Bangladesh have been slow to embrace writing and acting, which was not considered a viable profession by the older immigrant generation. Mr. Ali and the actors in “The Domestic Crusaders” are among a younger group interested in mining their experiences for theater. These are dramas not about terrorism or war, but about the cultural cacophony that ensues when you drop three generations of a Pakistani family into Silicon Valley.

Hopefully, his play which opened last Friday, September 11, at the Nuyorican Poets Café² in New York City, does some healing especially of the virulence that still pervades among us and brings together families caught in a similar cultural cross-fire.

¹Laurie Goodstein, "A Pakistani-American Family Is Caught in Some Cultural Cross-Fire", New York Times
²Nuyorican Poets Café, New York City

Let Blind Pigs Fly

“Blind Pig Who Wants to Fly” opens today at MOMA’s Roy and Niuta Titus Theaters in New York City as part of their ongoing film exhibition, “Contemporasian”.¹ The movie, written and directed by a one-named Indonesian filmmaker, Edwin, portrays the lives of several loosely related characters in a series of vignettes. The backdrop is last year in Jakarta when it was commemorating the 10th anniversary of the ethnic violence that rocked the city in 1998. According to film critic Mike Hale in his New York Times column today:²

American audiences may find “Blind Pig Who Wants to Fly,” the debut feature of the one-named Indonesian director Edwin, a bit slow and cryptic for a dark comedy about feeling out of place in one’s own country. But given censorship — relaxed since the 1990s, but still there — and a national reluctance to confront the ethnic scapegoating that occasionally results in the murders of large numbers of Indonesian Chinese, it’s a sign of changing times that the film could be made at all.

Consider the setting and how these characters seek to be someone or somewhere else: a young ethnic Chinese woman who has started calling his grandpa by a Dutch word instead of Indonesian; a friend who wishes he were Japanese instead, having been beaten up as child for being a “Chinese brat”; and, an affluent gay Indonesian who wants to engage in a particular sex act with his apprehensive lover. The theme of the film should resonate as strongly here as in Jakarta, even if the ethnic and cultural background of the characters may be altogether different.

Here is the trailer of the movie when it was first released by Filmmuseum Distribution last July:

¹Museum of Modern Art, New York City
²Mike Hale, “Feeling Like Aliens in Their Own Land”, The New York Times

A Hindu Temple 'Choir', An 'American' Koran, A 'Catholic' Mantra

Recently reconnected with someone who has found new interest in studying the Hindi language, I learned about recent activities celebrating the festival of the Ganesha festival.  Ganesha, deemed Lord of Success, is one of the most widely worshipped of the many Hindu deities.¹

The son of Shiva and Parvati, Ganesha has an elephantine countenance with a curved trunk and big ears, and a huge pot-bellied body of a human being. He is the Lord of success and destroyer of evils and obstacles. He is also worshipped as the god of education, knowledge, wisdom and wealth. In fact, Ganesha is one of the five prime Hindu deities (Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva and Durga being the other four) whose idolatry is glorified as the panchayatana puja.

How the practice of such religious beliefs adapts following its migration to America is exemplified by the formation of choir performing for the first time—also in celebration of the Ganesha festival—in a Hindu temple in Flushing Meadows, Queens.  Growing up Catholic, I recall nothing extra-ordinary singing in a church choir.  However, in his recent NY Times article, Jonathan Allen reveals that choir singing is new in Hindu worship, which tends to be more individualistic and free flowing. Quoting Professor Vasudha Naryanan, director of the Center for the Study of Hindu Traditions at the University of Florida, Mr. Allen writes:²

She sees the choir as a “gentle process of Americanization” — a kind of adaptation of Hindu traditions to be more “recognizable” to the children of Hindu immigrants and the broader American public.

Not everyone views any American adaptation of religious practice—or even, the artistic representation of a religious book—with the same openness.  Even before the exhibition opens, there is already mounting opposition to “American Qur’an”, Sandow Birk’s latest project of transcribing English translations of the holy book accompanied by paintings of contemporary American scenes. Jori Finkel of the New York Times writes:³

After viewing an artist’s statement on koplindelrio.com, the gallery’s Web site, Usman Madha, director of public relations at the King Fahad Mosque in Culver City, cautioned that many Muslims might nonetheless find the project “insulting to the Islamic faith,” starting with its title. “There is no such thing as an American Koran, or European Koran, or Asian Koran,” he said. “If someone calls a work their own version of the Koran, they are misrepresenting the Koran as revealed to the prophet Muhammad by the angel Gabriel.”

In exhibiting his work, I doubt Mr. Birk’s intention to “make it more accessible to Americans, more relevant to American life” will precipitate any serious conversion, because technically his work does not count as a bona fide copy of the holy book, which can only be written in Arabic.  In her studying Hindi, I surmise my friend is driven more by her personal interest in it and won’t soon become a Ganesha follower herself.  I don’t think a Hindu hymnal will hit publication any time soon either.  I digress form this deliberation with a thought of my old church choir singing this John Lennon song.

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

1Subhamoy Das, “Ganesha: Lord of Success—All About the Hindu Elephant-Deity”, About.com
2Jonathan Allen, ”Old Faith Innovates in a New Land”, New York Times
3Jori Finkel,“’Personal Meditations’ on the Koran”, New York Times

Chin-Kee Ruvs Clispy Flied Cat Gizzards Wiff Noodle

I didn’t know it was graphic novel until my library called to say the book I had put on hold was ready for pick-up. Recommended by a friend oversees, the book published three years ago bore a title that was itself compelling. With lowered expectations, I took my library card and checked the book out. Later that evening, I thought I could get a quick chuckle here and there just browsing through the pages, only to realize it wasn’t for that type of reading. Luckily, my harried browsing missed the pages that would have been a spoiler to what turned out to be an astonishing climax to a very satisfying read.  The author cleverly interwove three disjointed stories, including a Chinese fable, to address issues of race and personal identity.

In National Public Radio’s slideshow featuring “American Born Chinese”, the award-winning graphic novelist Gene Yang also talks about the universality of his book’s theme and hopes it would appeal to the a broader audience: “I definitely don’t think that issues of shame and questioning the person’s identity are exclusive to Asian Americans in any way. So I would hope that people can connect to the book on that level, and then, well, broadly as a cartoonist I would hope that it opens them up to the world of graphic novels.” Yup, I’m set to look up his other works in my next trip to the library.

Hapa

Shapeshift.net brings to our attention this video produced by Shannon Higginson.

“Hapa is a Hawaiian term used to describe a person of mixed Asian or Pacific Islander ethnic heritage and Caucasian. Recently, its popular usage has been broadening to Asian-Americans in general and other mixed racial/ethnic backgrounds. In this pod, Hapa students at Wesleyan University discuss how their identity shapes their view on the world.”

In his own words, our first multiracial, multiethnic, multicultural president acknowledges his own transformation growing up under the scrutiny of the world. He also relates how some people have had difficulty taking him at face value, and as such they undergo a transformation of their own.

“When people who don’t know me well, black or white, discover my background and it is usually a discovery, for I ceased to advertise my mother’s race at the age of twelve or thirteen, when I began to suspect that by doing so I was ingratiating myself to whites), I see the split-second adjustments they have to make, the searching of my eyes for some telltale sign. They no longer know who I am.”

It seems like the broader society may need a better understanding of this--and themselves. I suggest that they should follow the lead of these fine Hapa students who took on the reins simply by talking about own their journey.

See related post, “Here’s to Hawaii’s 50th Anniversary: Okole maluna!”

An Argument for Authenticty

This interesting exchange between a blogger (H.Y. Nahm) and an anonymous reader presents but a microcosm of the various perspectives when discussing Asian American identity.  The writer admonishes that the path to authenticity begins with “being 100% secure in your identity, no matter how much they poke and prod and scratch at your skin”; the reader is bent on a more pragmatic approach.  “Own your ethnicity” is one of three tenets the writer prescribes and with which the reader slightly differs.

H.Y. Nahm: “I’m Korean!” is how I say it when some yokel asks, “So what are you?”  I’ve come to the conclusion that “I’m Korean American” sounds too defensive.  The more sophisticated know what I mean. If they can’t figure out that I am also American by the way I speak and act, too bad for them. I don’t care enough to waste energy trying to educate them.

Reader: Of course, if you’re asked “What’s your ethnicity” you should answer, as you said, “Korean” (assuming the writer is one). However, if I’m asked “What’s your nationality” or “Heritage” then I would, proudly or not, answer “American”. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with trying to explore the heritage of your ancestors, but you have no right to act as if your ancestor’s heritage was your own.

The rightfully proud Korean American—or should I say, Korean—writer has all but the good intentions in his approach, and I concur that we should all step up to our ancestral origins.  I would however agree more with his reader that an appropriate question deserves an appropriate answer.

Now, if the question were less than appropriate (Need I even provide examples?), I find it befitting our ancestral pride and confidence in our identity that we offer a response that attempts to inform, educate, enlighten, and maybe even convert the however-unsophisticated mind, or manners, of the inappropriately questioning.  What energy does it take to just spill out the facts—whether it lands on the path, the thorns, the rocks, or on fertile soil?  Hey, you never know!

I am an Asian American of Korean ancestry.

There is stronger agreement on the two other doctrines that H.Y. Nahm proposes, which are:  never try to prove how American you are, and never apologize for anything Asian.  I agree that the proof is in the pudding, though too it is not our accent nor birthplace that should solely define us.  I believe it is our deeds acknowledging our ideals that serve as the bottom line in proclaiming our true selves.  And so I offer another tenet related to this:  Never downplay that you are also American.  And, yes, we should give people—and ourselves—some slack, because like everyone else, authentic or otherwise, we are in fact imperfect human beings.

Two Souls Feed As One

Debbie Lee is one of three remaining finalists in the Next Food Network Star Season 5.  Will she remain in contention after this Sunday when they whittle it down to two finalists?  How will Bob Tuschman, one of the judges in the show, vote?  Mr. Tuschman has exhibited mixed feelings about Debbie, viewing her behavior with disfavor (“infuriating”, “appalling”) even as he applauds the quality of her food itself (“first rate”, “excellent”).  Whatever her fate is in the next couple of weeks, Debbie has already made her mark with her “impressive combo of quick thinking, humor, and charm” and her “TV-ready skills”.

Of the things I find remarkably charming with Debbie is her ability to inject her Asian American background in every segment, though sometimes they are not called for.  In one past episode there was really nothing substantially Korean in the food she assembled.  Debbie’s background inevitably folds into her culinary point of view, which she views as simple.  “It’s soul to soul, it’s the journey of my life as a girl”, she says.

I can’t imagine it being too simple though.  Growing up in the South (one part of her soul) as the only Asian girl in school, living with a grandmother (“the other part of her soul”) who only speaks Korean, a language she couldn’t understand, it must have been tough.  Sure enough, Debbie recognizes the need for an outlet; she confesses food made her like herself, giving her “inner peace and therapy”.

More than becoming the Next Food Network Star, I wish Debbie continued inner peace and comfort via this universal common ground.  “It doesn’t matter who you are, where you come from, who you’re dealing with, when it comes down to the table, you guys can all sit down and finally find something in common, and to me that is a really powerful thing.”  Good luck!

Not Cool?

Do Asians lack the cool factor? This Goku fan airs his angst, and presents his "case". He knows he's cool and cute (synonymous to cool?)

Are you Chinese or Japanese?

"It is a wise man who can laugh at his own jokes." (Iranian Proverb)

"Where there is laughter happiness likes to be." (Japanese Proverb)

"Many families are built on laughter." (Indian Proverb)

"You will never be punished for making people die of laughter." (Chinese Proverb)

Augusto's Reservations

“What is a Filipino?” Anthony Bourdain asks his Philippine host in a recent Travel Channel episode set in that country.  Anthony may have very well posed the question to the wrong person.  After all, though from Philippine lineage, Augusto Elefanio was born and raised in Long Island, New York.  He concedes lacking in expertise on the subject matter, having visited the country only once—two years ago, and only for a week.  Furthermore, Augusto confesses he’s still trying to figure out who he is.

“I’m not entirely American.  I’m not entirely Filipino.  I’m kind of stuck in the middle and that’s a hard thing…for a lot of Filipino-Americans.”

In Augusto’s audition tape, he comes off as a strong contender—lively, enthusiastic, and confident.  While Augusto’s performance in the tape may have been strongly influential, the decision to enlist Augusto may have come from gut—and Mr. Bourdain’s desire to savor the best-tasting slow-roasted whole pig rotisserie-style (a bait craftily incorporated in Augusto’s audition presentation).

The choice has raised some chatter in Philippine blogs; many concur Augusto is not qualified.  However, as Anthony points out, the show is all about the food.  Right or wrong, Augusto has tickled his palate in search of that elusive definition of Filipino cuisine.  (After all, he features other local food experts in the show.)  In fact, Augusto’s selection is appropriate; his story serves as an elemental counterpoint—a complimentary side dish—with the lad’s own quest for identity.  Anthony laments that, “however badly Augusto wants to be a Filipino and reconnect with his roots…he’s still American.”

Anthony eventually tastes his “best pig ever”, thanks to Augusto.  And thanks to Anthony, Augusto gets a timely nudge to answer the question of his Filipino identity.

I Looked Chinese

In Jen Lin-Lui’s book entitled “Serve the People:  A Stir-Fried Journey Through China”, the author immersed herself in a honest-to-goodness travel narrative searching for the authentic flavor of Chinese cooking.  Her culinary adventures were effectively translated from the perspective of someone not familiar with the land and culture of her Chinese ancestors.  Born and raised in the USA, Miss Lin-Lui sought to get hands-on kitchen experience as material for her book interlaced with interesting settings and characters that brought life to a collection of recipes.  In the end, such quest also transformed her into a deeper understanding of herself and the mores of societal acceptance.

Jen Lin-Lui described a critical obstacle in seeking to gain trust from those she sought to obtain her material and from those with whom she wanted to be more closely tied.  Miss Lin-Lui’s own description of her identity was not calculated or insincere, nor was it borne of a desire to set herself apart.  It was an urge that brought her to call herself a Chinese-American, ironically for the first time while she was in China.

Calling herself Chinese-American befuddled the locals who find it inconceivable that she could be more American than she was Chinese.  She offered them an explanation but it was taken that she was pretending to be something she was not.  Unfazed, she “straddled the expatriate bubble and the world outside it, not quite belonging to either.”  “It was the first time I had to seriously grapple with issues of race, identity, and where I fit in”, Miss Lin-Lui ventilated.

Her romantic relationship with a Caucasian in China, which she only touched on in latter chapters, hopefully offered Miss Lin-Lui more than fodder to help her deal with her issues—perhaps adding to a more complete meal in her next book.

Where The Soul Resides

Whether one elects to self transform towards full “Americanization” or to step out of the shadow of that dark cloud of traditional upbringing and familial imposition, it could be a long and weary struggle.  Never mind your bone structure, Western education and accelerated social immersion (real or second life).  There will always be that part of you that sticks out—good or bad, depending on how you play it.

To those just “off the boat”, this challenge is more clear-cut. To next generation Asian Americans, it could be more ambiguous.  Such is the dilemma faced by the character of Thao in Clint Eastwood’s progressive movie, “Gran Torino”. Of course, it helps that Thao comes from a more obscure cultural background with more recent U.S. rooting and thus with fewer template paths and role models to go by growing up in a Detroit neighborhood.

At best, Thao bides time by swinging with the belying forces that conjure his day-to-day existence.  One day, he unwittingly participates in a local gang initiation, an aborted crime.  The next, he half-heartedly subjects himself to traditional family impositions, including indentured servitude.  Otherwise, he prefers to keep to himself, far removed and detached as he could possibly be from these forces, and unfortunately, from the rest of the world.  In his first coming out, it is, darkly, to seek revenge.  As the main character Walt Kowalski (Client Eastwood) surmises, Thao will never find peace in this world if those forces subsist.

Ultimately Walt offers a sublime example that would significantly transform Thao.  Interestingly, it comes from left field—that is, from neither of the two conflicting forces.  Walt’s bold action emanates from confronting the serious conflicts that also haunted him in life.  That perspective offers universal ground that transcends ethno-cultural differences.

Multi-Cultural

There’s a myriad of intricacies other than racial or ethnic identity that govern us and the lot multiplies as the world shrinks at an ever-accelerating pace.  Factor in age, retirement, media access and exposure, sports, and shopping, for example.  Was it then truly non-kosher or just too pretentious for Tiger Woods to identify his own intricacy as ‘multi-cultural’?  Or, is it just human nature that less complex tagging should command broader acceptance—‘black or white’, ‘red or blue’, ‘with us or against us’?

My mother was a fan of Tiger Woods. In late retirement, my parents (now deceased) preferred to stick to just one TV network.  Discerning those tiny buttons on the clicker was too complex for their glaucoma-stricken sights.  That may have precipitated their increased exposure to Tiger’s winning matches.  Even so, Mom may have opted to shut the power or join my dad in his usual afternoon nap.  I find it fascinating then that she would have been so besotted by Mr. Woods.

True, Tiger has Asian heritage and she may have identified with him.  Still, in her frail eighties, and with no sports background (gardening was her chosen form of exercise in her heydays), my mom was apparently captured.  She watched Tiger’s matches whenever they were broadcasted on that channel.  She even asked my dad to scavenge for a putter in one of their estate sale shopping adventures.  (I have not been told whether she did in fact initiate any attempt to land a hole or two in their tiny living room.)

What part of me is Asian, and what part, American?  This complexity ranks as high in the level of my dilemma of understanding what part of my genome is borne from my dad and what comes from my mom.  I concur with Tiger when he finagled his way out of such verbose but less appealing propositions:  “The bottom line is that I am an American and proud of it."