Not About Me, But About You

Hey! I think I'm finally connecting with you--my Hip Hapa Homeez--for real, and that makes me feel so HAPA! Thanks for showing me the love.

This week, I want to introduce you to S.B. of London (pix to your left). Besides promoting our film by purchasing a Watermelon Sushi Hapa*Teez t-shirt, S.B. also shared some interesting thoughts about our biracial agenda. On the Hip Hapa Homeez group page on Facebook, I had posted a statement about the One Drop Rule, and questioned why the press was so eager to label President Obama a black man when he is biracial. S.B. then responded with her belief that some biracial people tend to shun their black side. FYI, S.B.'s mother is white English, and her father is Nigerian (Igbo).

Rather than attempt to explain what I think she meant, I'll just re-post our dialogue here:

S.B.:

Isn't Barack Obama black/African American?

The mixed-raced community always makes a massive deal about embracing all parts of your heritage. But in reality, that seems to mean that you don't embrace any. Especially, especially not any black/African heritage you might have. It is preferred (in my experience) that you refer to yourself as "mixed-race", "biracial", "multiracial", etc., without ever acknowledging the different races that make up that heritage.

I think Barack Obama should be able to describe himself (and be described) as black. Because he is black, AND white. Both as opposed to neither.

I don't think it's the One Drop Rule unless the argument is that having black heritage EXCLUDES you from being anything else. That blackness (or non-whiteness) taints you.

But that's just my opinion.

And, here's Your Hip Hapa's response:

I don't know if you grew up in London, but the phrase "One Drop Rule" takes on a whole different meaning here in the states as it applied to slaves who were fathered by white slavemasters yet denied any claims to that white heritage, especially because it involved property and money. Slaves were considered property. Therefore, a child of a white slavemaster was still half slave and ruled by the one drop of black blood that would keep him or her always a slave first and foremost.

As for your argument about mixed-race folks not wanting to embrace their black heritage, I don't think that's true. Often, the black community doesn't allow us to embrace other parts of ourselves. Most recently, there was a big stink about the U.S. Census. Because mixed-race people were allowed to choose more than one race (and thereby acknowledging both of their parents for the first time in the history of the Census), a lot of black communities were upset over losing numbers. If you don't know, higher numbers in communities means that you're awarded more federal dollars for your programs.

Of course, it's up to Obama to define his racial identification. But clearly, his white mother and white grandparents raised him. Certainly, he was highly influenced by them culturally. For him to deny them, would make me suspicious of his political agenda.

And, here's S.B., again:

I would never deny that Barack Obama is biracial or mixed-race. Regardless of who raised him, it is a fact that he is biracial and I would never say that he should deny his biracial heritage.

All I meant to say is: The fact that he is biracial should not exclude him from being black. He should not be discounted from the ranks of African Americans merely because he cannot claim pure, 100% black racial heritage. Who can? Why can’t he be seen as being ALL that he is? Black, white, mixed-race, Kenyan, Hawai'ian, Kansan, Illinoisan, politician, husband, father, president…

As a European--and not an American--I do not claim to understand the nuance of American racial politics, and I hope that I have not offended anybody.

I do think that my argument that mixed-race people do not want to claim their black heritage is accurate at least here in Britain if not in the United States. At least I can say that I have provided some insight on life as a mixed-race person in Europe (it is not as depressing as it sounds!).

And, one more time, Your Hip Hapa replies:

I appreciate your opinions. As far as mixed-race people not wanting to claim their black heritage, though, I have seen that happen with certain black folks, too. I have lived in areas that are predominantly white, and experienced black people literally shun other black folks so as to not "offend" whites or have whites think that they are just like any other stereotyped black person. I call it "self-hating", and I've seen that occur among Asians, Latinos, and Indigenous folks, too. I have rarely seen it happen, though, in large, diverse, cosmopolitan cities so I think there's some idea of a "safety factor" involved in taking that type of stance.

Okay. So, what do you readers think? Do mixed-race people with black ethnicities tend to shun that part of themselves? Drop us a line at hiphapa@comcast.net and tell all!

Also, last week I discussed the so-called FGM v. MGM battle. FGM stands for First Generation Mulattos (or Multi-racials) and MGM are Multi-Generational Mulattos (or, Multi-racials). FGM's are repped by folks like Halle Berry who can point to a white mother and black father, while a prominent MGM would be Vanessa L. Williams--with two light-skinned parents identified as black, but who is clearly mixed from somewhere in the past. Today, I received an invite from AP to join several multi-lineage yahoo groups based on that blog. I'll post their links after I check them out. However, I will list this one that I actually had the chance to visit:

http://www.diversityinc.com/public/3469.cfm

We're getting close to scheduling talent auditions for Watermelon Sushi, so if you haven't sent us your submission yet, you have about a week. Check out the Hip Hapa Homeez group page on Facebook for breakdowns. And, sign up to join our group while you're there!

Also, the panel I'm presenting, Mixed-Race Relationships, at the Mixed Roots Film and Literary Festival is gearing up. Here is a link to an article penned by Sam Cacas who will be one of the panelists:

http://www.asianweek.com/2009/05/16/black-asian-unity-the-increasing-blasian-numbers/

And, let me know if you'd like me to forward you a copy of the MRFLF program.

My new feature is to introduce a Hip Hapa Homee every week, so if you have a photo of your family, especially your parents, and would like to be showcased on this blog, hollah at hiphapa@comcast.net

Until next week, I am fiending to be...

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Susan's Story, FGM v. MGM, Rain, Brown Girl, And Lily

One of the reasons I love being Your Hip Hapa is because of the caliber of connections I make. Every week, I receive wonderfully encouraging emails from other hip hapa homeez and from the friends and families of hip hapa homeez, too.

Since I've been mostly blogging about my own adventures here in my Watermelon Sushi World, I think it's time to showcase some of yours. So, meet Susan Stead-Carter. Here is a brief intro, in her words:

"I am also Japanese and black American. My parents were married in 1959, and my dad, Roland F. Stead, Jr., was a serviceman. My mother, the former Teruko Nishina, was from Fukuoka Japan. Although I was born in the U.S., I moved to Japan when I was nearly two when my dad was reassigned from Ft. Lewis to Korea. I lived in Japan for the next 10 years with my mother while dad served various assignments. To make sure I lived a stable life, we lived in various parts of Japan (sometimes with relatives, other times on base) until my dad got his orders in 1974. I was very Japanese then as far as culture was concerned (I was fluent), but my parents made me very aware that most Japanese would not consider me as such. Although I lived in a protected environment of an Army base when I first moved to the states, I was not prepared for the isolation I felt when, after dad retired, I moved to an area where there were very few black Americans. And, I was even more unprepared when I was not accepted by them."

Currently, Susan lives with her husband and three sons in Virginia. She has generously shared photos (here) of her parents taken in Beppu Fukuoka in 1953, as well as one of herself in grade school.

If you're interested in having your multiracial story told on this blog, please drop me a line along with some photos at hiphapa@comcast.net

A few days ago, I began reading Pig Candy: Taking My Father South, Taking My Father Home by Lise Funderburg. I can't believe my incredible good fortune in winning this book in a contest that Lise held on her website. If you're not familiar with this author, she wrote Black, White, Other--a book about mixed folks with black and white parents. In my opinion, it is the most definitive book about biracial people as it's told in their own words accompanied by their photos. I'll let you know what unfolds in Lise's latest--a memoir about her late father.

Speaking of black and white, Kahlil Crawford, a multiracial activist has been clueing me in on issues between FGM's and MGM's. FGM stands for First Generation Mulatto while MGM is for Multi-Generational Mulatto. From what I've gathered, there's resentment between the two camps as FGM's have one white parent and one black, and generally feel free to identify themselves as biracial, while MGM's tend to be considered light-skinned blacks no matter how multiracial they may be or feel. Examples I read about indicated that Halle Berry is considered an FGM while Vanessa Williams is an MGM. It's a new world to me, and I'm learning as I go. If any of you have anything to add to this topic, please drop me a line at hiphapa@comcast.net

Just today, I received an email from my delightful friend Rain Pryor, a talented writer and performer. Here's the link to her latest show titled Colorism.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aeoE9kX6s9A

Rain's mother is Jewish, and her father is the late comedian and actor Richard Pryor. You pour, Rain!

Hey, I'm so HAPA to see so many of us putting our multiracial agendas out there. A few days ago, my Oak-town friend, Jazmine Jackson, turned me on to http://www.OneBrownGirl.com

In a few weeks, a piece I've written will be posted there, but for now you can go to Tracey's website and participate in a poll about mixed-race people. Just click "Other Stuff" on the landing page to take the survey.

Wow! I cannot believe I spent four hours on the phone last night with Lily Anne Yumi Welty. This Japanese and Caucasian student is currently in Japan doing research for her Ph.d dissertation on mixed-race Japanese. Her interview with me was a blast as we yapped, joked and compared notes about our hapaness. Lily is looking for any half Japanese folks who were born between the 1940's-1960's. If that describes you, email her at lywelty@umail.ucsb.edu and tell Lily that Your Hip Hapa sent you.

Well, that's about all the news that's fit to print for now. I may be in need of a panelist for the Mixed Roots Film and Literary Festival in LA in June, so drop me a line at hiphapa@comcast.net if you're multiracial and would like to be considered.

We're also going to be auditioning talent in L.A. in June. If you're an actor, check out the group page for Hip Hapa Homeez on Facebook. You can see the breakdowns and audition information posted there. Rapper and Music Consultant Miwa Lyric will be assisting us, so come on out and meet Downey's down diva! http://www.miwalyric.com

Remember, for those of you fiending to be a part of our Watermelon Sushi film, we still have Hapa*Teez t-shirts available at http://www.cafepress.com/hapateez

Finally, here's to HAPA-ness for everyone, and a special shout-out to Brian Parker who remembered my birthday with a really cool card.

Peace out, ya'll.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

A Birthday, A Senior Loving Teen, A Faux Pas, And A Mall Cop

Congratulations are in order here, folks. Thank you. Hey, I made it through another birthday! But since my SanDisk memory card reader decided to malfunction (how timely--one year and an expired warranty later), I can't download my party pix. So, I won't waste any time writing about the festivities you weren't invited to. I don't want to rub your face in how much fun you missed and not be able to share with you the images of me partying with my senior parents and their spoiled brat dog.

Speaking of seniors, two weeks ago on NHK's Nodojiman (Japanese amateur singing contest), a teenage girl appeared on the show along with her grandmother. As the two held hands, they sang a song. But I forgot to ask my mother what the song was about. I was so awestruck that a teenager not only didn't mind being seen with her grandparent on international television, but was proudly holding her hand, too. I kept imagining the show being American Idol or something, and I couldn't. Are you kidding me? No American kid would be caught on TV performing with an elderly relative. What is it with our society that makes aging such a horrific event that women race to get face lifts and men stock up on Viagra as soon as the wrinkles and gray hair appear? Isn't aging a natural process in other societies where the elderly are actually looked up to as being wiser or something? In our culture, it seems like we want to hide our old folks. Yes, I am sensitive to this issue especially since I've acquired another birthday. Sob! Still, the image of that young girl and her grandmother singing together was so sweet that I just had to take a photo. But it's another one you won't be seeing tonight.

As I've mentioned many times, I just love receiving your emails and Facebook Friends requests. Keep them coming. This week, I got an interesting message from Mary who is also Japanese and African American. After reading my last week's post, Mary experienced her own "huh?" moment with a monoracial friend. Here's what Mary had to say:

"I thought about you last night and your experiences with the monoracial white man who told you that your name didn't sound Japanese. There is someone in my life who I'm trying to tolerate and be friends with. He's white--half German, half American. Even with a law degree and a Masters in psychology, my friend Eric said the stupidest thing to me. As we were watching television, we noticed a biracial boy on the show.

I told Eric, 'Aw, he's really cute!'

Eric responded, 'I hate biracial people.'

Stunned, I said, 'Thanks a lot, Eric!'

He replied, 'Well, you're not biracial because you're half black and half Japanese. That's all the same race. There are only two races--white people and everyone else.'

Mary went on to write, "How does one argue with an idiot without becoming one?"

I'm sorry, Mary, but as you know from reading this blog I have no answers--just lots of questions. It's truly amazing how misinformed people are, but even more amazing is their sense of entitlement to tell you--a mixed-race person--exactly what you are. I mean, who put these people in charge?

Somewhere during the existence of humans, someone decided that the word biracial means that you are half black and half white. Then, some others decided that the word hapa means that you are half Asian and half white. It's crazy, I know. In my dictionary, biracial means someone who is of two races period, while hapa is the Hawai'ian mispronunciation of the English word 'half'. But back to Eric's declaration that there are only two races--white and everyone else. I'm stunned myself, Mary. I mean, does Eric think he hailed from Whiteland? And, why does he hate biracial people anyway? If any of you readers have comments, please leave them here.

On another note, it seems that today's mainstream movies are casually introducing the idea of mixed-race families to the public. Recently, I saw Mall Cop (don't ask) and was surprised that the protagonist was a monoracial Caucasian who lived with his white mother and his Latina daughter. It turns out, ha ha, that the mother was an illegal alien who only wanted her green card. So, she married the mall cop, birthed a daughter, and split. Somehow, this was a big family joke and a picture of the mother on a burro, I believe, was supposed to make us hysterically roll around in the aisles whenever they showed it. I found it kind of sad, really. Couldn't the writer have created a Latina who was not the stereotyped alien lusting for a green card? Couldn't she have been a successful business entrepreneur who decided to dump her mall cop hubby because he was such a loser? Jeez. Think, people, think! You're writers. Write creatively!

Speaking of writing creatively and films, we're still accepting submissions for Watermelon Sushi. If you'd like to audition for our producers in Los Angeles in June, please get your reels, resumes and headshots to us ASAP. You can find all the details, including breakdowns, on the Hip Hapa Homeez group page at Facebook. While you're there, please join us. With mixed-race notables like Jasmine Guy, Lonette McGee and Rain Pryor as members, you'll be in good company. Not to mention Kool Mo Dee, Professor Griff, Biz Markie and Ghostface Killah!

The pix I've posted are all from birthdays long gone. At the very top QBwoy hosted my birthday party at his reggae club in Hollywood. Beneath that one, QBwoy hosted another one of my birthday parties in Santa Monica where Mikki joined us. The other three photos are all from the same birthday party at Siam Place restaurant in Santa Monica. From left to right: Lisa, me, Karen. Next pix: Cat, me, Kristina. And lastly, Chi, me, and Cat.

Until next week, I remain Your old...

Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

A Lonely Planet When You're A Fish Out Of Water

Today, while I was screening a Chinese-made film titled 24 City, it really hit me how homogenized that country's citizens are. I kept trying to put myself into the picture and wondering how I would fit in living somewhere where everyone looked like everyone else, except me. Certainly, I have felt that before in America, especially whenever I've attended a particular event that didn't draw other folks of color. But on a daily basis for the rest of my life? I'd be crazed.

I remember visiting Japan with my mother and sister years ago. We spent nearly a month traveling in Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka, Nara, etc. At first, it was absolutely fascinating to attempt deciphering the language that I heard all around me. Even with a Japanese mother from Japan, I only know mostly nouns so I was trying to pick up on entire phrases. But after awhile, to my shock, I began to miss the sound of English which I only heard whenever my sister and I were having a conversation. Most of the time, she and I were together. So, I did have someone to talk to without having to search for the correct Japanese words to communicate. Still, there was a deep sense of loneliness that enveloped me whenever we were out in public and I couldn't understand anyone else around me. That's a picture of my sister in Tokyo, above.

Being that one different person in any group can be an uncomfortable experience. But most monoracial people don't have to deal with that situation unless they travel outside of their communities. Not long ago, I asked a good friend of mine--who happens to be a monoracial Caucasian man--if he wanted to attend a black arts festival in Atlanta with me. Now, I've known this friend for years. We often talk politics and he considers himself extremely liberal and progressive. Besides visiting each other in our respective home states, we've also travelled to other distant locales to attend various events. So, I was totally unprepared when he answered my question with, "No. I don't think I'd be comfortable at a black festival." I was stunned and replied, "So how do you think I should feel? I have to be a person of color every day when I walk out my door, and where I live 75% of the population is white. Should I just stay in the house so I don't have to feel uncomfortable?" My friend didn't answer. I really don't believe he understood what I was getting at, and it really saddened me because if someone as bright and aware as he is doesn't get it, then there's no hope for the rest of humankind. Or, is there?

Hey, we're moving closer to making our Watermelon Sushi film. In June, we'll be auditioning talent for the principal roles. So, if you live in L.A., please be sure to send your reels, resumes and headshots according to the breakdowns on the Hip Hapa Homeez group page at Facebook. That way, we can schedule you for an audition. Most likely, auditions will be held in Hollywood and the fabulous nissei rapper Miwa Lyric will be on hand to assist (www.miwalyric.com).

Shout-outs to Lily Anne Welty for sending the DVD about Japanese/black kids in Japan. I'll report on it as soon as I watch it. btw, if you're in Asia and you're AfroAsian and you're interested in being interviewed by Lily Anne, let me know. She's on a search for biracial babies born between the 1940's through the 1960's.

Mahalo nui loa also to Paulette Thompson for remembering that The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai had "good" aliens that were all of color and "bad" aliens that were all monoracial Caucasians named John. Paulette also sent me two links that I'll try to post next time. One of her comments was that actress Meg Tilly was born Margaret Chan, but after her white mother divorced her Chinese American father, Meg was taught to keep her Asian ethnicity a secret. The other is about a woman in an interracial relationship.

Now, here's an interesting article that flips the script. It's about a black family who adopted a white child.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/194886/page/1

In honor of my transracial adoptee buddy, Anjulie, I have posted her beautiful-ness, above.

One Love!

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Sakura Seasoning

Yo, it's hana-mi (flower watching) time!

Last weekend, while pink petals fell like silent snowflakes from cherry trees lining the Seattle Center, I made my way over to its grounds. Just past the Experience Music Project (Microsoft partner Paul Allen's dedication to Jimi Hendrix), I found the Seattle Cherry Blossom Festival in full bloom (yeah, pun intended). A three-day cultural event sponsored by the Japanese Consulate, this matsuri is an annual shindig. But this year, besides the usual activities of dance, ikebana (flower arrangement), judo, kimono dressing, shodo (calligraphy), and taiko (drumming), the festival also featured a Hapa Booth.

A friend on the committee who knew of my passion for blendies invited me to help out at the Booth. So, for three days, I mixed and mingled with hapas, their parents or other relatives, and their friends. Through a whirlwind of exchanges, I felt a spiritual connection with so many multiracial folks who willingly shared their stories--some sad, some glad.

The Hapa Booth itself was simply decorated with photocopied pictures of mixed-race Japanese. After all, it was the Japanese Consulate's event so no other hapa Asians were featured. But that didn't deter hapas of all combos from approaching us to "talk story". Since the Japanese community has one of the highest out-marriage rates, numerous visitors started their sentences with, "My mother's Japanese and my father's..." Or, "My father's Japanese and my mother's..." And, the numbers of hapas hailing from Hawai'i clearly outnumbered everybody else.

Besides photos, there was also a laptop looping video clips of Jero's (with his obachan in pix here) performances. Although curiosity from those who'd never heard of him was strong, their interest sometimes bordered on incredulity, and I wondered if they saw him as a novelty rather than as a serious enka singer.

I also discovered that, unfortunately, a lot people still have a misconception about the word hapa. Many think that it describes someone who's half Asian. I know I've written this before, but hapa is simply the Hawai'ian mispronunciation of the English word half. Being limited to 12 alphabet letters, the Hawai'ian language does not provide phonetics that would permit a Native to say h-aaa-lll-fff, so the word was softened to ha-pa. Native Hawai'ian language also ends every word with a vowel so it would be impossible to say h-aaa-lll-fff anyway. Initially, when the first Europeans arrived on the islands, they were referred to as ha-ole, or "no ha". Ha is the sacred breath that was expelled before the Hawai'ian king, but Europeans didn't know that so they didn't do it. Thus, "no ha". Hapa haole were the offspring of Native Hawai'ian and European parents. These days, haole is pronounced by locals as "how-lee" and is sometimes used derogatorily against whites. But back in the day, even Princess Ka'iulani was hapa haole with a Native mother and Scottish father.

Besides trying to come up with a quick definition of hapa that was palatable to the surging crowd, I also dispensed information about mixed-race organizations to those requesting resources. It's all good and well to point to photos that show that the world is rapidly blurring its racial lines, but for those who are still having a rough go of it, it's nice to know that there are organizations out there for us. Shout-outs to MixedChicks.com and SwirlInc.org!

Among monoracial people drawn to the Hapa Booth, most of the responses were positive although some clearly appeared puzzled about the very notion of race mixing, or why it would even be celebrated or publicized. A board set up on an easel accompanied by post-it notes and pens invited comments from the audience. Some were ordinary; some profound. But one actually said, "Hapas? Get over it."

Well, the only thing this hapa is getting over tonight is finishing this blog post.

btw, in celebration of my upcoming birthday during the first week of May, I'm planning to add quick interviews with various hapas here on this blog. If you'd like me to talk to you, please drop me a line. It doesn't matter where you live, or what your combo flava is, I want to hear from you.

hiphapa@comcast.net

And, here's a reminder that our Watermelon Sushi producers are still on a talent search. If you haven't already sent us your DVD or headshot, it's not too late. Check out the breakdowns on the Hip Hapa Homeez group page on Facebook. And, sign up to join us while you're there.

Also, if you've purchased a Hapa*Teez t-shirt, let us know so we can give you credit for contributing.

Meanwhile, can you stand one more photo of cherry seasoning?

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Insults Or Ignorance?

Honestly, the amount of insults hurled toward me by monoracial folks lately seem to be growing exponentially. It makes me wonder if something's been added to the drinking water.

Last week, I wrote about two people who attributed my ability to earn good grades and academic achievement to my "Asian side". In both instances, I was flabbergasted by their thoughtless remarks.

Well, there's more. Earlier this month, I attended a monthly get together of artists, writers and other creatives. Walking in late, I spotted a friend at the large table so I sat across from her. During lunch, most of the attendees chatted with others they knew, too. But towards the end, a couple got up to leave when the Caucasian man suddenly leaned over to introduce himself. As always when speaking to Westerners, I spoke my name with clearly enunciated syllables. I watched as the man visibly wrestled with a question gnawing at him.

"Where's that from?" he said, before changing his query to, "What kind of name is that?"

Warily, I answered, "Japanese."

Most of the time, the response I get when I reply with that answer is, "Really? You don't look all Japanese."

So, that's what I was prepared for when, instead, the man looked at me intently. "That doesn't sound like a Japanese name," he told me with an air of authority. "It has too many consonants. Most Japanese names start with a K or M," he added.

Incredulous, I looked over at my friend sitting across from me but she, herself a monoracial Caucasian, said nothing.

"Actually, a lot of Japanese names start with Y," I replied. "My mother's name is Yuriko, her mother's name is Yone, and..." I trailed off as I realized that I had no obligation to explain anything to this stranger who already thought he knew it all anyway.

Since he had the nerve, basically, to let me know that he knew more about Japanese culture than I did, I wanted to respond with something really flip, like; "Tom? What kind of name is that? Is it English, because most English names have two or more syllables so your name should be Thomas, shouldn't it?" Alas, I'm a peaceful type who doesn't like confrontation so I just smiled weakly. After the man left, I leaned in to tell my friend how insulted I felt, but it was too loud in the restaurant and she didn't seem to grasp my agitation.

Then, last night on a thread that I was a participant of, one of the women became upset over some of my stated opinions. In a final hurrah, not only did she call me the "B" word, but also flung at me her conviction that I was a coward who hid behind, quote, "all that ridiculous hip hapa stuff". Ridiculous? Since she's a monoracial African American, I had to wonder what she had against mixed-race folks.

On to better news. The producers of Watermelon Sushi in our Tokyo office are revving up for more action so keep checking back for updates. Meanwhile, calling all talent, get your submissions to us by visiting the Hip Hapa Homeez group page on Facebook. There, you can read the breakdowns and get the address to send your headshots, resumes and DVD's. And if you sign up to join us, you'll be in a group that includes luminaries like Todd Bridges, Kool Mo Dee, Professor Griff, Jasmine Guy, Oran Juice Jones, Patti LaBelle, MC Lyte, Biz Markie, Lonette McKee, Bern Nadette Stanis, and more. We're about to get real serious here, folks.

Finally, it appears that haru (spring) has arrived. Check out the pix of sakura (cherry blossoms) in my 'hood, above.

Funny, that my mom likes to make gohan (rice) with ume (plum) which turns the rice a little pink. I started calling it sakura gohan. At the left is a pix of the sakura norimaki we recently ate.

And, below is a photo of my Mom cutting her birthday cake last week. Notice her red eyes caused by haru allergies. As for her age, well...if you're that interested, please drop me a line at hiphapa@comcast.net

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

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

New News And Old

That matriarchal maven Madonna is back in the news again. Once again, the controversy revolves around her attempts to adopt a Malawian child. The adoption of her now three year-old son, David Banda, whom she acquired in 2006 caused a ruckus because it was felt that Madonna used her big name and big bucks to bypass Malawi rules and regulations about adoption. It seems she was allowed to have David without being a resident of the country for at least one year, and circumventing the required 18-24 month waiting period which applied to everyone else.

Further, it was downright weird since David's father was still alive. Instead of giving David's father money so he could raise his own child, Madonna seem to be playing the role of a rich white woman purchasing a poor black boy. Now, that may not be the case at all, but anyone who is sensitive to the enslavement of black Africans by white Europeans would be alarmed at the implication. Even with David's father waiving his rights and insisting that he wanted Madonna to raise his son, one has to wonder why. Why would any father of any child prefer to have his own son reared by a stranger?

This time around, Madonna has her sights set on a young girl whose mother is also dead. But like David, the girl has a living father. Just when is it okay to adopt a child, anyway?

I have a friend of Indian descent who was adopted by a Caucasian couple who also adopted other children of color. Although my friend had birth parents who were living, she was a sickly child and her family couldn't afford her costly medical expenses. Now in her 20's, my friend recently met her birth family. Since this wasn't my experience, I can't say what is right or wrong. But I know if I had been raised by other people and later, in my adulthood, discovered that I had a living parent or parents, I'd be mighty mad. I'd wonder whether or not my folks did all they could to keep me. I'd probably even wonder if they really loved me. But like I said, I don't know the complete circumstances. Maybe you have a similar story you'd like to share. If you're a transracial adoptee, please drop me a line at hiphapa@comcast.net and unload.

Also in the news is a resolution proposed by Senator John McCain, of all people, requesting a presidential pardon for the now dead boxer, Jack Johnson. Johnson, an unbeatable black champ, was arrested in 1913 for violating the Mann Act--"taking women across state lines for immoral purposes". Although the Act was meant to prevent pimps from pimping prostitutes, it was used against Johnson because he dared to date and marry white women. Besides knocking out so many white boxers, he had the nerve to collect the spoils, aka white women. Johnson spent a year at Leavenworth prison and his record was tainted. And now, McCain, who personally voted against honoring Martin Luther King, Jr. with a federal holiday, has introduced this potential pardon to Obama. Life. It's so cyclic, ain't it?

Finally, I want to thank all of you, my supporters, for hanging in with me and continuing to read this blog, buying Hapa*Teez t-shirts, and keeping in the mix with our Watermelon Sushi film. And, a very special thanks to Amina Kangiwa of MixedChild.com for such an incredible interview session this evening. Although her site won't be up until this summer, I'm confident it's going to be all we mixies want. Amina, who is Filipina and Nigerian, is a journalist who knows how to get to the heart of race matters. We spent hours on the phone tonight talking about our similar AfroAsian ethnic and cultural backgrounds.

Until next week, stay hip, stay hapa, stay homeez! And, don't forget to send me a Friend Request on Facebook--and join our Hip Hapa Homeez group, too. The last time I checked, Bern Nadette Stanis--Thelma--from Good Times was a member!

Above is a pix of our matriarch, my sister and me in the German woods.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Visitors

I admit I'm a consummate hostess. Back in the day, my sister and I would entertain rooms full of folks in our tiny one-bedroom apartment near Seattle's Lake Union. Thinking back now, I wonder if our neighbors suspected us of dealing drugs or being prostitutes because of our many visitors--mostly men--who'd stop by for a drink (usually coffee or something stronger) and a chat. Sometimes, one of them would scoop us up for a couple of games at a nearby pool hall. Other times, we'd go check out a Bruce Lee or Blaxploitation flick. And, still other times, we'd cruise to Seward Park for a jam session with my sister playing her twelve-string guitar.

In any case, more than loving to entertain, my sister and I loved being entertained. Our friends ranged from a naive white guy from Florida named Paul, who also played guitar and would duet with my sister, to a brother named Donzell whose cousin Goat was often the butt of his jokes. Donzell drove a Brougham and would take us dancing at various nightclubs until we'd finally stop for breakfast at an all-night Chinese restaurant on Broadway. There was Femi from Nigeria, Allan from L.A., and Darryl from round the way--my sister's classmates from the University. Interestingly, none of these men were quote unquote boyfriends, but rather acted as substitutes for the brothers that we lacked. Of the ladies, I remember Mila, a Filipina whose children all had black fathers. My sister's friends, Linda and Tien, were Japanese American and Vietnamese, respectively, and also had black husbands. Although not that common in the 1970's, interracial coupling between Asian Americans and blacks did happen. During this time, Asians weren't acceptable for marriage by whites, and most of the Asians we knew were either with other Asians or with blacks.

Just sharing stories with our friends helped shape our views of the world back then. In those days, before the Internet and instant exchanges, my sister and I often met new people in public places and through other friends. Each one had a tale to tell, and that's how we learned. Today, I meet people through every method imaginable. But my friendships are still just as rich and rewarding as ever.

This weekend, while I stayed with my mother, two friends notified me that they'd be in town so I invited them over.

Albert, an educator originally from Ghana, was driving from Oregon to Washington on his way to fly to a seminar in Maine. Although we'd been friends for years, we'd never met face to face before. Unfortunately, Albert arrived just as the NHK taiga series, Atsuhime, began. As any of my regular readers know, I am totally addicted to this show. I could hardly peel my eyes away from the screen as I instructed Albert where to sit and hang his coat. With the dog frantically pawing his legs, and my mother firing questions at him about his personal life, it was all my guest could do to maintain. My eyes glued to the TV screen, I'd periodically turn to look over my shoulder at Albert and explain the scene at the Ooku with Atsuhime and her ladies-in-waiting during the countdown of the Satsuma overtaking Edo castle. My mom's husband, in his failed attempt to be sociable, commented on how homely the real Atsuhime was compared to the actress playing her. As we ate the square wontons filled with vegetables that my mother made, she needlessly explained to Albert that they contained no meat because of my vegan diet. Observing their efforts to communicate, I served as an interpreter throughout. My mother doesn't speak Twee and Albert speaks no Japanese although two of his cousins live in Japan where they both have Japanese wives.

Shortly after Albert left to continue his trip, Heisue arrived. This young student from Seoul currently attends school in Boston and has undertaken an intensive project about Korean warbrides. Upon entering their living room, she bowed towards my mother and her husband, and we were all charmed. Proclaiming herself to be "global", Heisue told me the reason she spoke English with an American accent was because of "Sesame Street". Sipping green tea, Heisue and I discussed the importance of her work. Some of the warbrides she interviewed had been abandoned by their American military husbands once they arrived stateside. Yet they survived. We talked about how life had been for their mixed-race children with the additional burden of not having their own fathers in their lives. And, I took Heisue on a journey from the time before I was born, to my mother's early childhood. Even though my stories helped Heisue piece together her project, I was the one who felt cleansed. The communication between Heisue and my mother was fairly clear and they each spoke a few words of the other's language. When my mother remembered a Korean song, she began singing it and Heisue joined in. I wish I would've had my camera as it was one of those moments in life never to be repeated. Heisue was stunned that my Japanese mother knew all the lyrics to this very traditional Korean love song, and so was I. Then, my mother trotted out a calendar she's had forever featuring Korean models on each page. Like the time last year when she broke out the homemade kimchee for a mixed-race Korean friend, my mother was seriously trying to connect. Maybe that's where my sister and I inherited our penchant for making and keeping friends.

Above is a photo of one of the very first visitors I can remember--a fellow soldier and friend of my dad's in Germany.

In friendship forever...

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Where Are The Extraterrestrials Of Color?

This week I attended a press screening for the film Knowing starring Nicholas Cage as an MIT professor with a young son. Because his wife died recently, the prof has taken to drinking a lot while pondering the meaning of life. He even lectures his students about the randomness of it all.

The movie opens fifty years earlier as elementary school children each contribute a piece of artwork to a time capsule. All the students are happily coloring and drawing, but one girl is obsessively writing rows and rows of numbers. What does it mean? I'm not going to give away the plot in case you plan to see this movie, but I will reveal that it involves the world coming to an end and "good" aliens rescuing "the chosen". And, just who are these chosen? Out of the billions of folks on planet earth, the lucky two that the aliens save happen to be the granddaughter of the little girl who wrote all those crazy numbers fifty years previous, and the professor's son.

Of course, the two children (who we assume will be the Adam and Eve of the new world) are mono-racial Caucasians. And, so are the aliens. In the scenes that take place 50 years earlier, it's historically accurate to show an all-white school. And later, most of the crowd scenes correctly feature various ethnicities. But as far as the aliens being portrayed by four white actors, three of them male, all I can say is why? This lack of colored folks as extraterrestrials bothered me so much that I posted the question on Facebook: Why are there no aliens of color in American films? Besides Brother From Another Planet, I couldn't think of any others. Several of my friends, however, came up with names like Damon Wayans in Earth Girls Are Easy and Louis Gossett, Jr. in Enemy Mine. There was mention of Billy Dee Williams and James Earl Jones in Star Wars, and Whoopi Goldberg in Star Trek, too. Still, the names of actors of color were rare. Besides, all the ones mentioned were black, and my question was meant to address all people of color including Asians, Indigenous folks, Latinos, and even biracial people.

Are we to assume, based on the film Knowing, that there are no people of color in the future? How does that compute when people of color dominate the world population right now? What happens to all of us then? If anything, futuristic films should heavily feature the Chinese.

One thought that persists in engaging my mind is that extraterrestrials are, in Hollywood's eyes, synonymous with superior intelligence. After all, they manage to find their way to Earth while earthlings haven't, so far, visited other planets. Is there some subtle message emitting from Tinsel Town that says people of color aren't smart enough to be a part of the future? Of course, a progressive director like John Sayles, often flips the script. Thus, the irreverent Brother From Another Planet.

I've been so disturbed by this lack of colored aliens issue that I vow to write a script about space creates of various hues, especially biracial ones. That's how I see the future, don't you? With so much race mixing going on these days, multiracial people are bound to be the dominant majority some day. So, why not aliens?

Meanwhile, friends, fans and family, we're still casting for Watermelon Sushi, we're still selling Hapa*Teez t-shirts to finance the film, and we're still recruiting members for our Facebook group called Hip Hapa Homeez. Join us today. Where else can you have rapper Kool Mo Dee as your Veep and group members like MC Lyte and Patti LaBelle?

Speaking of aliens, that's my sister and me in the pix above on a subway train in Tokyo. Note the flash of light around my head. Could it be my aura, or my alien antennae emerging?

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Racial Responsibility

Aloha all,

A Facebook friend recently posted an article asking whether people of color are held to a higher standard than whites whenever something bad goes down. Like when Chris Brown beat up Rihanna and news sources cited O.J. Simpson and Ike Turner, other black men known for violence against women.

"What about Jean Claude Van Damm?" someone asked. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't advocate any man hitting any woman (or anyone else for that matter), but it did seem odd that media lingered on violent colored folks, and not so much on others who have also done damage.

The FB article posed the question of whether people of color are more responsible for representing their communities as opposed to whites. That posting was so timely because just this weekend I had a conversation with a white friend that blew me away. I was telling him about a documentary I watched called Crips and Bloods: Made In America, and how I thought the filmmakers left out an important chunk of history. Although this film features incredible archival footage, the storytelling seems a little hurried. We go from blacks leaving the southern plantations to joining the industrial revolution in Los Angeles' aerospace companies encouraged by World War II. After flourishing in segregated neighborhoods, blacks start experiencing job layoffs, absentee fathers, drug-addicted mothers, and voila! gangbangers. Well, after a riot or two, that is. Okay, I thought. What's missing here?

Years ago, I heard the late playwright August Wilson speaking at a Seattle theater. A white woman in the audience asked him what he thought was the worst thing that had happened to the black community. An audible gasp was heard as Wilson replied, "Integration." The biracial Wilson (his father was a white German) then explained that during segregation, blacks were forced to rely on each other--buying from each other's stores, hiring each other for various services, and keeping it all in the 'hood, so to speak. But with integration opening up doors that were previously closed, blacks who were more educated and affluent began exploring the idea of moving into previously all-white neighborhoods. In time, the black communities they left behind became neglected ghettos. Middle-class homes morphed into government projects. Black businesses folded for the lack of demand. Drug dealers became the new entrepreneurs. Other races moved in with liquor stores and pawn shops. Black people in black communities grew impoverished--leading to alcoholism, drug addiction and that elusive missing male parent.

Watching Crips and Bloods, I remembered Wilson's harsh words and thought that's probably what happened in the Los Angeles' black neighborhoods where those gangs were born. I said as much to my white friend, and his response surprised me.

"They should've never left," he replied.

"What?" I answered. "Are you saying middle-income blacks should have never left their black neighborhoods? Would you say that to a white person? Would you say, white person, you are responsible for your entire race?"

My white friend admitted that he wouldn't, and realized his error at suggesting it. But his words echoed through my mind for several days afterward. Why did he automatically think people of color should be more responsible for their own kind? My friend is a loving and generous person with no outward sign of racism. Yet his words had slipped so easily from his lips. Was he an unwilling victim of institutionalized racism?

As usual, I have many questions and no answers. Of course, the greatest irony is that without integration, neither I nor August Wilson might have been born biracial.

I do encourage you to watch Crips and Bloods if you get the chance. Some of the interviews with ex-gang members will chill your blood, but hearing their stories will also give you a greater understanding of the domino effect of racism that allows poverty to turn into a lack of respect for life--anyone's.

Speaking of films, Your Hip Hapa is in the research phase of launching a distribution company for films by and about mixed-race people. Hollah at hiphapa@comcast.net for more info.

I leave you with a pix of beautiful Santa Monica, above. Located only miles from some of the most gang-infested neighborhoods of Los Angeles, it's a city that some residents of those very 'hoods have never visited in their entire lives.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

HAPA Post-Hina Matsuri Day!

Omedetto Gozaimasu!

On the third day of this third month, Japan celebrated Hina Matsuri. A festival for girls, its major activities include bringing out dolls from the closet, dusting them off, and displaying them in neat rows on seven red felt steps for all to see. But these dolls are not just any dolls, and definitely not the type to be played with, since they are miniature depictions of Japan's royal family and their attendants.

According to Wikipedia, Hina Matsuri began during the Heian Period of 794 to 1185, but doll displaying wasn't popularized until the Edo Period of 1603-1868. Originally, dolls were viewed as possessing evil spirits and, when set afloat on a boat in the river, would carry said bad luck away. Today, Hina Matsuri is a way to wish girls good fortune, health and happiness, and to encourage their positive growth into women.

In our mixed-up house, we had dolls on display year-round. My mom's kind of a "sloppy" Japanese (see: naming me Yayoi when I was born in May) so she bent a lot of rules. Since her dolls weren't miniatures of the Emperor and Empress, I guess it was okay to have them collecting greasy dust on top of their heads and their cases, if they had one. Like every Japanese woman in America, my mother had what I call the sakura doll; a lady in a red kimono wearing a black pie-shaped hat tied under her chin, with a big branch of cherry blossoms (sakura) slung across her shoulder. Since I was the biggest neat freak in the house, it was my job to clean the case the lady lived inside with Windex. I also sprayed Pledge on all the kokeshi dolls (the armless, legless ones with bobbing round heads) that were stored inside my mother's china cabinet.

Even though I cared for my mom's dolls, I never entertained the idea of playing with them. That was reserved for the dozens of dolls my sister and I collected as Xmas and birthday gifts. I think we got at least two apiece annually.

We had our baby dolls that were all Caucasian since it was the only flavor dolls came in while my old a** was growing up. We also had a few toddlers, and even a high-heel wearing, grown lady with breasts.

Heavily influenced by our environment, my sister and I named our earlier dolls Mary Ann (she had a rubber ponytail), Mary and Sue (twin rubber toddlers), Linda (a baby doll that really wet her pants), and Lu Ann (pierced ears, pearl earrings and high-heeled feet). But our later dolls got more exotic names like Uneeda and Golly-a. For some reason, my sister and I were obsessed with our dolls' hair and ended up combing most of the synthetic stuff out so that they all became bald. Thank the stars, Mary Ann had a rubber ponytail. Even though my mother yelled at us for doing it, we just couldn't stop. I wonder now if our behavior was due to our inability to comb our own thick, wavy locks that my mom would, with her rough hands, deal with.

In all of our growing up years, my sister and I never once owned an "ethnic" doll, although I do recall seeing a few rare black ones around that time. Certainly, there were Japanese dolls that could be bought at gift shops or sent by relatives in Japan. But they were always so stiffly dressed up and expensive, that all we could do was gaze at them.

Nowadays, there are even mixed-race dolls which would've been a real treat for us. As I explained today to a grad student interviewing me about multiracial issues (thanks, Stacie!), not seeing your own face's likeness onscreen, in print publications, or even on dolls made me feel as if no one like me existed. But this lack of validation also gave me one wild creative streak and led me to draw people who looked just like me. Unfortunately, after graduating from art school, I realized that skill was a handicap because my freelance clients wanted me to draw only mono-racial people, particularly Caucasians. That's just the way it was in the 80's.

Hey, you're a doll for reading this. And, if you're on Facebook, please send me a friend request. We're getting ready to pimp our Hip Hapa Homeez group with more bling. With over 300 members, and so much action HAPA'ning lately with Watermelon Sushi, we'd love to invite everyone to get involved. Yes, we're still casting, and you can read submission details at the Hip Hapa Homeez group page. And, yes, we still have Hapa*Teez t-shirts available. This movie is a movement about us, ya'll, so please join us.

That's me and sis, b.r., above with Mary Ann and one of the Twins.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi