Bad Comcast, Insults, Interracial Alien Abductees, And HAPA B-day!

Thanks to Comcast, my post is a day late. I don't know why they started messing around with their servers at the exact time I was finishing up, but they did and now I have to start all over. Apologies.

Yo! Hip Hapa Homeez,

It's been another busy week of dismantling misinformation about multiracial people, and I'm exhausted. Sometimes, I get so tired of preaching and teaching that I just let stuff slide. How about you?

A couple of days ago while out walking, I ran into the bus driver with whom I had shared my woes about a difficult class I took last quarter. Since he drove the bus to the campus daily, I often complained to him about the homework that I struggled over. Coincidentally, he was familiar with the subject and tried to encourage me. When I had last seen him, I was sweating a bad grade. Surprisingly, I ended up doing better than I anticipated. Spotting him on my walk, I expressed my delight at earning a decent grade. Laughing, the driver replied, "Well, that's the Asian half of you." I was speechless. Since he's Asian himself, I wasn't sure if he was just attempting to create a bond through our cultural connection. I wanted to ask, but didn't, if he thought it possible that my black relatives might value education more than my Japanese ones. I'm sure he meant no harm by his statement. After all, Asian immigrants in America do have a reputation for being academically inclined. However, I've read articles that indicate the true model minorities are Haitians. That's right; those refugees that arrived packed in rickety boats off the shores of Florida are considered to be the most achievement-oriented in this country--counting numerous doctors, nurses and lawyers among them.

Awhile back, a Caucasian man made a similar remark when I mentioned some academic accomplishment I'd realized. "You're so smart," he said. "It must be the Asian in you." Of course, I was stunned. Was he saying that the black in me was not as bright as the Japanese? I wanted to ask if he knew who invented the traffic signal light, or who came up with the idea of blood transfusions that saves millions of lives worldwide. Hint: Neither were Asians.

And, what about Obama then? Do you think world leaders sit around thinking, "That guy is so smart. It must be the white in him." Is it a good thing then, that Obama identifies himself as an African American?

I suppose there are worse things that monoracial people can say to us mixies. Yet, I find myself often thinking that as a whole (pun intended), we humans have a long way to go.

Recently, I ran into a former classmate who is half white and half black. As we discussed being biracial, he revealed that he and his brother were treated differently as they grew up. My friend is "high yella"--golden skinned with green eyes and "good" hair. His brother, he told me, had darker skin and tighter hair. I explained that my film, Watermelon Sushi, is about this very issue--how people are perceived to possess certain traits based on nothing more than their appearance. Just when did having a darker shade of skin become an open invitation for scorn, anyway?

Earlier in the week, I was at a local copy shop when I began conversing with a young African American woman who was assisting me. Reading her name tag, I mentioned that I had a friend who shared her unusual name, but who lived back East. The young women then shared with me her complicated family history and all the places where they had resided. Then, very casually, she explained that her father had not been raised by his own mother (her grandmother), but by his grandmother (her great-grandmother) because--here the young woman lightly brushed the back of her arm with her fingers--his skin was too dark.

Can you imagine being rejected by your own mother because of something so irrelevant as the shade of your skin? If your own mother won't accept you, what hope is there for the rest of the world embracing you? Folks, we just suck.

On another note: Thanks to the quick eye of Rachel Herault, I had to revisit my March 19th blog post titled "Where Are the Extraterrestrials of Color?" If you recall, I was in a tizzy after viewing the Hollywood film Knowing, starring Nicholas Cage as an MIT prof who unravels a series of numbers that add up to doom for planet Earth. While he's busy figuring out that we're on a collision course with the Sun, several aliens (all monoracial Caucasians) intervene. I was miffed that none of the aliens were of color, and posed the question; how come the future is so white when there are more Chinese on the planet right now than anyone else? I even insinuated that Hollywood is sending a subtle message that aliens can only be Caucasian because they possess a superior intelligence proven by their ability to travel all the way to our planet. Anyway, Rachel reminded me that a couple who was actually abducted by aliens in the 1950's was interracial. Barney Hill was black and his wife, Betty, was white. In the TV movie based on their story, they were played by actors James Earl Jones and Estelle Parsons. The fact that I remember the most about the Hills' adventure is Betty's drawing of where the aliens had come from. Although she drew stars that didn't exist at the time of her kidnapping, years later scientists discovered them in the sky.

Please keep your cards and letters coming, Hip Hapa Homeez. I love hearing from you! And, don't forget to sign up to join our Facebook group--Hip Hapa Homeez. Remember our Hapa*Teez t-shirts and our open call casting for Watermelon Sushi, too.

Last, but not least, here's a shout-out to Moms. HAPA b-day! I tried to wish it on your special day, but see 'bad Comcast', above. Omedetto gozaimasu! The photo above is one of Moms at the earliest age we could find. Here (bottom left), she's a 16 year-old nanny, out boating with her employer's family.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Muffin's Twin

I thought I'd give ya'll a break today, and refrain from writing ad nauseam about race. (Okay, okay. I admit I have a ton of homework, too.)

So, instead, I'll just post a photo (thanks for the pix, Bob!) of Muffin's twin. If you recall, Miss Muffin is the BIRACIAL offspring dog (poodle/terrier) of her blended folks (Asian/Caucasian).

Since I posted a photo of the real-live Muffin last week, I thought I'd include one of her twin this week. Thanks to Cassie who sent the dog figurine to my mom after meeting her several weeks ago. Like me, Cassie is Japanese and African American and grew up in the Northwest. It's always good to connect with our twins.

Enjoy!

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

P.S. Five hot, haute, hip hapa designs have been added to the Hapa*Teez lineup: http://www.cafepress.com/hapateez

Eating Asian, Dancing Black

Today as I visited my mother, I was honored with the company of two Japanese and black sisters who live in the area. We'd recently met through the miracle of the Internet when one of the sisters read about my film and contacted me.

Like the dutiful daughters of a Japanese mother that they are, the women came bearing a gift of osenbe (rice crackers) from their Kyoto-born mama. The packaging was quite exquisite. Exclaiming over the beautiful wrapping paper (nobody does wrapping paper better than the Japanese), my mother quickly explained the illustration depicting the man, Genji, who (she snickered) had many "girlfriends". Of course, she meant concubines, but her English isn't always so hot. Nevertheless, we were entertained.

For the next three hours, the two sisters and I were in a state of bliss as we swapped tales of growing up with Japanese mothers and black American fathers. Sharing their family photos with me, my mother and her husband, the ladies were an absolute delight as we sipped green tea and munched on the osenbe.

When the older of the two asked me if I had ever experienced rejection from African Americans, I told her that I had never felt that--that it was Asian Americans who would hold me at arms-distance whenever I appeared at any of their social events. The sister then wondered if my fairly light skin didn't arouse suspicions among black folks if I showed up at their functions.

Thinking about it, I realized that there might have been times when blacks looked at me as if thinking, "Now what is she doing here?" But, as I told the sister, those attitudes never fazed me. I would just think to myself, "Just watch me on the dance floor, fool."

And, it's true. There was one incident I recall that took place in the mid 1980's when my sister and I visited Oakland. We'd heard about a really hip club in Jack London Square, and as we pulled into a parking space, about 3 or 4 brothas surrounded our car, talkin' trash. They were clearly interested in us coming inside the club and their admiring looks encouraged us to strut into that venue as if we owned it--not that we required their compliments. Back then, my sister and I were young and cute, and we knew it, too.

But as we entered the doorway, it seemed as if every pair of eyes in the room turned towards us. Nobody in that club was anything else but black. This was a time when Oakland was fairly segregated. While the men seemed to shrug us off after checking us out for sex appeal, a lot of the women continued to glare at us. I had the feeling they thought we were Mexicans. But my sister and I are not the type to be intimidated by anyone merely staring at us. After all, that had been happening most of our lives followed by the tasteless question, "What are you?" As far as my sister and I were concerned, we were just as black as anyone else and had a right to be in that club.

But more than that, I knew I had the secret formula for assuring acceptance. I knew it was just a matter of time and, sure enough, a gentleman soon asked me to dance. You see, I may tend to look more Asian to most people, and I eat that way, too, but I most definitely dance black.

But aren't those stereotypes, you may well ask. Well, that's a whole other conversation that we'll deal with later.

Thank you Cassie and Doris!

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

P.S. That's my sister and mother together in the photo back in the day. Hey, please, don't forget those t-shirts at http://www.cafepress.com/hapateez

Black Women/Yellow Men

With all the recent activity around Watermelon Sushi, the line of Hapa*Teez t-shirts, and a short documentary about biracial people that I'm producing, I feel stuck in a racial rut. I can't stop thinking about race! Whenever someone mentions Obama, I want to talk about his ethnic heritage--not about his candidacy. If I'm not writing about race, I'm drawing it, or filming it, or discussing it. Perhaps all of this race reflecting will lead to a cleansing of sorts, like being purified after walking through a fire.

As I was contemplating racial matters today, I remembered reading once that the two most maligned groups in the U.S. were black women and Asian men. The author had suggested that individuals from both groups should begin to seriously consider hooking up with each other since both were being left behind in the marriage game. Black women have one of the highest statistics for never marrying at all, and it seems Asian men are rapidly catching up.

Well, first of all, if you think that marriage is the be-all, end-all, to life, then you've been watching too many soap operas. But, seriously, if a close personal relationship with the opposite sex is something that you really desire and want to manifest in your life, and you're either a straight African American female or a straight Asian American male, you might want to consider your odds with each other.

Why are these two disparate groups being painted as undesirable? Well, I blame the media. Black women are often portrayed as being unfeminine, aggressive, loud and having loose morals while men of Asian descent aren't even visible--especially, older Asian men. Why is that we see Asian American women newscasters on every TV channel, but not their male counterparts? And, why are black women handed such a one-dimensional portrait by the media?

The answers are too long to delve into at the moment, but, of course, it all points to racism. One of the reasons black women outnumber black men in the marriage pool is simply because so many brothers are locked up or living lives of crimes (including doing drugs) that make them undesirable husbands--some of which is directly related to racism. Asian men, on the other hand, have been doused with the image of a stern, sexless math wiz. Hardly the type an ordinary heterosexual woman would find hot or cuddly.

So, what about it? Sistahs are you ready to consider a nice Asian brotha as your beloved? How about you Asian men? Are you in the market for a decent black woman? Personally, I'd like to know more about black women and yellow men together.

Any comments?

Above is an old photo of me with Rae Dawn Chong--whose half-Irish, half-Chinese father (Tommy Chong) married her African-Canadian mother.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Stayin' Widdit

Unlike in the past (I know, I know), I'm challenging myself to blog daily--so, here goes.

Earlier this week, I was interviewed by a local newspaper reporter writing an article about biracial people followed by a genuine studio photo shoot. As I went through the process of bringing myself into this mixed-race frame of mind (as you blendies know, we don't go around focused on being mixed 24/7), I realized I had too much to say on the subject to keep it short. Indeed, the phone interview spanned some 1-2 hours. I just couldn't stop talking!

Besides the usual negative stuff--society at large identifying mixed-race folks according to what they look like physically--I also had some positive observations to share, i.e., being biracial means having two cultures to draw from which can make life pretty darn interesting, especially if you enjoy eating collard greens with inarizushi.

Only the weekend before, I got into a heated bickering session with an actress pal who identifies herself as African American. During our conversation, I brought up the "Obama dilemma"--that he (and others) has chosen to call himself black as opposed to biracial--and, I cited the One Drop Rule as the reason (more on that in another blog). Well, my friend (like many African Americans) was not happy with my assessment. Hey, as proud as I am of being black, I'm also proud of my Asian ancestry, and I'd never dream of excluding my mother from the credits in the creation of "the me who I am today". My actress buddy was not having it so I opted out by telling her, "I don't argue about biracial issues with monoracial folks." As mortified as she was, she would've felt the same had a Caucasian person attempted to tell her what black is/was/will be. Yet she had no problem telling me what biracial is/was/should be.

(In another blog, I'll address why African Americans get so upset when hapa black people want to claim the other side of their identity.)

It's really interesting to note how mixed-race people, generally, are able to transcend group affiliations, and that's the way it should be. Had it always been that way, slavery of a certain race of people could never happen. If folks didn't have the capability of separating by ethnicity, they could never deem one group superior over another. I'm not advocating that a biracial world population is the answer to a better planet, but when humans can't bunch up together according to race and pit one group against another (which is usually the case--pitting, that is), there just might be a chance for understanding and harmony. Even if there isn't, even if we end up segregating ourselves by other categories (like those who wear red versus those sporting blue), we will at least have a sense of what all races share in common.

Now, culturally, there may be differences. Based on my own experiences, I find Japanese society to be highly organized and systematic. I understand it because part of that is inside of me, cultivated by my issei (first generation Japanese) mom. On the other hand, I also feel a strong sense of music which often releases itself without inhibition. I recognize that as an outward expression present in many African cultures. And, that is also inside of me, thanks to my dad. So, what to do? Repress one of those urges to the detriment of the other? Hey, I'm hip to both of them because I am both of them. Two races, two cultures, two ways of being, but one person.

In closing today's ramblings, I have to say that my sister's kid may be an interesting look into the future. This manchild in his early 20's has an African American father and, of course, my Japanese/black sister for his mother. As a baby, toddler, and teen, he spent many summers living with my issei mother and her Caucasian husband. Throughout his adult life, he's dated women of different ethnicities. Today, this kid proudly showed me a photo of his girlfriend, a woman who is half Samoan and half white.

Until next time--oyasuminasai, bon nuit, later.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Welcome To Watermelon Sushi World!

Greetings and salutations to all you blendies of Asian and black ethnicities, as well as to all who share our world. Here at Watermelon Sushi World, we can feel free to express our thoughts and feelings about our mixed-race lives. This will also be the place where we can keep updated on the development of our feature film, Watermelon Sushi. Please return often to check out what AfroAsians have to say, or to see what's going with our flick.

Alafia!

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi