Hip Hapa Homeez' Work Goes On And On

Aloha blendies, mixies, and multis everywhere!

This morning, our new Watermelon Sushi associate producer in Tokyo sent me the following link and promptly ruined my day. Seriously, this is a sad story so have a box of tissues handy while you read it. Mahalo nui loa, Derrick.

http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/nn20080910f2.html

Amazing, isn't it? How humankind divvies itself into groups based on ethnicity? I know that among wildlife there is sometimes a self-enforced thinning of the herd, but don't humans actually have the ability to reason--to analyze and to rationalize? Or, are we just animals walking upright?

If you haven't read the article above yet, you won't know that I'm talking about mixed-race babies in Japan that were abandoned by their American military fathers and Japanese mothers. Often, the mothers came from poor families made even worse off by post-war shortages and economic despair. What this article doesn't cover, however, is the number of babies born out of wedlock to pure-blooded Japanese parents and given away. I'm sure it was nowhere near the numbers for the hapa kids though. I'm just thankful that my father honored his duty, married my mother and brought us to America. What my fate would have been as a half-black child in Tokyo....I can't even imagine. No disrespect to other women under similar circumstances, but one thing I know for certain, my Moms would've never given me up for nothin'. She's just that kinda lady.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of meeting Teri LaFlesh in the flesh! I've been wanting to say that ever since I bumped into Teri in cyberspace. This sistah with a Caucasian father and African American mother has written the most fascinating book called Biracial Hair. Check out Teri's website and her blog to see for yourself:

www.BiracialHair.info

www.FromerMushroomHairedChild.blogspot.com

And, today, I heard from Allison who calls herself a CHEW. She's Chinese and Jewish, and creative as all get out. I've listed the link to her blog, so go for it:

http://manushkin.wordpress.com/

Besides building the new Watermelon Sushi website, I've been busy with so much Hip Hapa Homeez work that I didn't realize the latest taiga was on NHK. As much as I loved the Shinsengumi and Yoshitsune series, I am really digging this one starring a GIRL! Atsuhime (hime means princess) is fetched to the Shogun's court to convince him to pick a certain successor. It's all castle intrigue with servants weighing in with guarded opinions. In one hilarious scene, the Shogun is tossing beanbags and throws one at the head one of his advisors because he doesn't like what he's saying. Pure Japanese humor, but I love it! There's just something about feudal era drama that sucks me in like a whirlpool.

The pix this week are from left: my Moms about age 20 in Tokyo wearing a handmade (no pattern, no sewing machine) outfit she created; me in Jamaica with my Jah-fro waaay back in the day; and, Teri LaFlesh and me with my new straight tresses yesterday (thank you, Teri!).

Until next time, I remain...

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Hapawood, Not Hollywood!

Several days ago, I met a man walking around downtown gathering signatures for a petition. He smiled a lot and seemed enthusiastic about life so I started a conversation with him. For some reason, his facial features and body language suggested to me that he was Kenyan.

"Close," he replied when I asked. "I'm from Uganda."

As we discussed politics, we veered towards other topics, like my writing film reviews. Glancing at me sideways, he asked what I thought about The Last King of Scotland. I rolled my eyes before responding, "It was very Hollywood, wasn't it?" adding, "But what do you think? You're Ugandan. Was that a factual story about Idi Amin or even about Ugandans in general?"

The man, Vincent, shook his head. It's not that I don't believe Amin wasn't a brutal dictator, but some of the scenes just made me throw my hands up in disbelief. It's like when The Last Samurai, or Memoirs of a Geisha, was released. I just about gagged watching Tom Cruise's character become an overnight samurai. Come on now, we're talking about a privileged class of people in feudal Japan that one had to be born into. And, here was this goofy gaijin only six months into Japan and already fluent in the language! (Shades of Richard Chamberlin in Shogun.) You could've knocked me over with an udon noodle. Here, I've known my Japanese mother for decades (let's not discuss how many), who speaks a mishmash of broken English and Japanese to me, and I'm nowhere near fluent. Just because you're an Asianphile doesn't mean you're Asian!

As for Memoirs of a Geisha...three modern Chinese actresses playing very culturally specific roles that takes even Japanese women who aspire to such a career years of careful preparation. Need I say more? (Sorry to dis you Gong Li and Michelle Yeoh! I'm a huge fan of both, but...)

The question is why does Hollywood feel entitled to take such liberties with inaccurate portrayals of a people, or a culture, or a race that they don't intimately know. The answer's simple. Because they can.

I remember once complaining to the editor of a screenwriters magazine about Tina Fey. He had organized a Q&A with her following a screening of Mean Girls which she wrote. After seeing the film, I was livid that all the Asian American high school kids had thick accents and even spoke some Asian language, Vietnamese, I believe. So, I mentioned to the organizer how appalled I was by those scenes. Instead of asking me to substantiate my claims about Fey creating stereotypical images of Asian Americans, he dismissed me by telling me I was wrong. Further, he added, the Asian Americans in the film were authentic and Tina Fey had them pegged because a lot of Asians in high school aren't Native English speakers and would revert to their own language when fighting with other students--in California! Now, hold up. Do you need an instant replay of that?

This organizer, by the way, is not Asian American (he's Jewish), and Tina Fey certainly isn't Asian American, but I am--at least half of me is--and I was told point blank that both of them know more about Asian Americans than I do. How, exactly, does that work? Should I write a script based on Jewish or Caucasian American characters and when a representative from their group tells me they are offended by my inaccuracy, argue with them?

In times like this, the realization hits home. We are truly the minority because if we had any kind of pull at all, Hollywood would not be able to cast Angelina Jolie in blackface to play a mixed-race black woman in 2007 (A Mighty Heart). But it goes beyond actors because until writers and directors of color are as visible as minority movie stars, we are just not going to get our authentic stories onto the silver screen.

Something that's been really bugging me is the glut of documentaries about impoverished folks, mostly of color, around the globe that are rarely made by people of color. But when you think about it, that makes sense. Who can afford to go to film school these days? Few people of color. And even if their families do have money, the kids aren't encouraged to pursue arts because there's the perception (especially in Asian families) that making movies is not real work or that it has no fixed future. So, we get a proliferation of white filmmakers who not only have the technical know-how to make movies, but who also have the opportunity to make the all-important contacts that will propel them into careers either with the studios or with independent producers--a growing force. It is they who ultimately make decisions about how we, so-called ethnics, are portrayed onscreen which, in turn, is how the world will perceive us.

Several years ago, I was in Honolulu when former Tri-Star/Columbia producer Christopher Lee hosted the writers and director of Final Fanstasy for a talk at University of Hawai'i at Manoa. Of course, being studio guys, they were all white. And, young. And, male. As they looked out over the audience of locals (mostly Asian, Asian-mixed, Polynesian and Melanesian folks), one of them said, "You guys should be telling your own stories." I snickered. He said it so matter-of-fact, as if we had the resources and connections, as if we'd even be allowed. But wait, you say M. Night Shyamalan is a Hollywood fixture and he's a minority and he's telling his own stories. Oh, yeah? What kind of stories? True life depictions of the Indian American experience? I think not. That would be left to a white filmmaker who, picking up a camera and some grant money, visits M. Night's family and soon produces a documentary of epic proportions like, dare I say it, Born Into Brothels.

Even though I give it props for being a spectacular doc with an amazing story, some scenes in it veered so closely to a "big white filmmaker saves little darky pickaninnies" theme that it made me downright uncomfortable. After all, what could a British Caucasian woman (the co-producer seen onscreen) know about the souls of the Indian children whose lives she uncovered? It was her country that colonized them, thus, contributing to their current state of being. But to be fair, I think the film exposes some very important issues about Calcutta's redlight district children of prostitutes. And, I happily salute the filmmakers for giving those children hope and visibility. So did the Academy which awarded them an Oscar. Still, I felt a sense of entitled opportunity in Zana Briksi's efforts; some feeling of "let's film some impoverished children in an emerging nation or third world country" flavor-of-the-month bid that made me cringe. That's when I wondered had a native made the documentary instead, with an imprint stamped "authentic", would s/he had been able to create a film that didn't come across so anthropological and studied as if s/he had been standing at arms length? And, would that native filmmaker been able to raise the kind of funds or garner the kind of publicity and accolades that the Caucasian filmmakers did?

All that wondering contributed to my pleasure upon recently viewing a documentary called Lakshmi and Me. Made by an Indian filmmaker, the story about her maid is so in-your-face, there's no doubt it's all real. But, the true tenderness of the filmmaker is in her humble admittance of her role as oppressor by virtue of her higher caste--something I doubt Briski and company is capable of acknowledging about themselves.

Which leads me to this: We need to start a movement, and that movement will be Hapawood. It's time to overthrow Hollywood and create our own. If you've been reading me for awhile, you know that I believe the word hapa is just a Hawai'ian mispronunciation for the word half and all of us blendies and mixies should call ourselves that. Now that we have a name we should build on it. I've already created the t-shirt (http://www.cafepress.com/hapateez) so let us begin by writing and producing our own films about hapas. All we need is a sound plan, a solid foundation, and a commitment to cohesiveness and authenticity.

Let me know. Hollah.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Before I could finish writing this blog, I got an email from Anzu Lawson. Half Japanese herself, she's performing a reading of her script Full On this Sunday afternoon. If you're in L.A., stop by Raleigh Studios at 4 pm for the Screen Play Lab and an authentic hapa experience. That's Anzu, above, singing hapa birthday to me a few years ago at my favorite Santa Monica Thai Restaurant--Siam Place.

The Name Game And Who's More Japanese, Fool?

On Wednesday, I wrote about my birth name and why I began calling myself Yayoi instead of Lena as my family used to do. As we know, life imitates art and today, during a discussion with coworkers, I was asked to explain the whole March/May, spring flower/early spring sky, Yayoi Clan/bronze bells significance of my Japanese name.

As I did, I suddenly remembered attending an Asian-American, star-studded event some years ago, and being introduced to various celebs at the soiree. Because few people of Japanese descent were in the house, I very carefully enunciated my name (as I do when among those not well-versed in Japanese pronunciation) so that I was repeating, "Hi, my name is YAH-YOH-EE" over and over again. (In Japanese, there is no emphasis on any syllable.)

When I was introduced to George Takei (Star Trek's Mr. Sulu in the photo above), I automatically repeated my mantra. Eying me suspiciously, Mr. Sulu wrinkled his nose and blurted out, "You're not pronouncing your name correctly!" Well, gee, thank you Mr. Second-Generation-born-in-Cali-but-knows-everything-about-Japanese-culture-actor man!

You see, there's been this little ongoing rift between Japan-born Japanese and issei, nissei, sansei, yonsei, ad infinitum. All of those Japanese terms refer to various generations living in America. Issei, derived from the word meaning "first" or "number one" as in ichi, are the first generation that emigrated to the U.S.--like my mother and me. Technically, I'm issei. I wasn't born in America, but in Tokyo; and, Japanese was my first language even though I stopped speaking it by age two. Even with an African American father, I have a more direct link to Japan than Mr. Sulu because my mother is uber Japanese and has never stopped sharing her customs and culture with me and my sister. Yet anyone seeing both Mr. Sulu and me on the streets together is going to proclaim him more Japanese than me.

Which reminds me: I was in Little Tokyo (J-town, Los Angeles) with a sansei (Third Generation) actress friend one night when we decided to eat at a Japanese restaurant. When I opened the menu, I saw natto (fermented soybeans) listed, and promptly exclaimed, "Oh, look! They have natto (pronounced nah-thoh)! "What's natto (she pronounced it gnat-toe)?" my friend asked. I just sighed.

Back to that rift. The Japanese in Japan oftentimes look at the Japanese who left for America as traitors, especially since the Japanese in Japan fought the U.S. during WWII. As for J/A's (Japanese Americans), a lot of them resented Japan attacking Pearl Harbor as they struggled for acceptance in the U.S. Because Americans had a hard time separating the Japanese in Japan who started the war from J/A's who were American citizens, the unfortunate consequence was that J/A's were rounded up and put in prison camps. Of course, time heals and, although people aren't as angry now, there's still a sense that prevails in Japan that J/A's abandoned their own country.

Actually, I find it amusing that a J/A like Mr. Sulu felt the need to correct me. He probably saw right off that I wasn't a 100%er, and automatically assumed I didn't know anything about his culture. But, I bet I know a whole lot more than he does about Yoshitsune, Genji tales, and old Edo. What, are you kiddin' me? My Moms is a storyteller who can't stop talking. Even if you're busy and clearly doing something important, she will boldly interrupt to talk about some significant point in her life (like when she used to heave her baby sister upon her back and run really fast so that the unfortunate asthmatic kid would gasp non-stop).

Really, though, my Moms is cool. And, she still tells many fascinating tales of Shogun v. Tenno, the 47 ronin (master-less samurai), and Benke, Yoshitsune's vassal whose statue graces a bridge in Japan. When the taiga drama series featuring Shinsengumi aired a few years ago on NHK, I was riveted--having already heard of the rogue cops' adventures from my mother.

Moms also talks about entitled samurai who tested the sharpness of their swords on unsuspecting citizens late at night. She claims the victims would walk city blocks before realizing that one of their arms had been sliced off from their shoulder. That's how sharp those swords were, and how swift the samurai would strike as they strolled past their innocent targets.

Before anyone in America even knew what a ninja was, my mother demonstrated to us how the mercenaries would literally disappear by jumping high into a tree to hide. Of course, she herself didn't jump into a tree, but she'd hop into the air to show us. (You had to be there.)

On a more personal tip, Moms loves telling about the time she put her hand through a paper wall (typical in Japanese homes when she was growing up) after suddenly standing when she'd been sitting on her knees for hours (her legs had fallen asleep). Now, that is pure Japanese. I bet Mr. Sulu never sat on his knees in his life.

Truthfully, I have no quarrel with Mr. Sulu, or anyone either J/A (Japanese American) or straight-up Nihonji. I'm just saying that just because you happen to LOOK more Japanese than me, it don't mean a thang.

And, to answer that question that's always on people's lips after they realize what my last name is--yes, I AM related to Oprah. I'm sure I am. I just wish the sistah would realize it. Say, Oprah, if you're reading this, do you know that you have half-Japanese cousins, cuz?

Oyasuminasai!

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi