More Hapa*Teez

Eva looks so hot-haute in her Hapa*Teez t-shirt that I just had to post another pix of her.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Hapa*Teez!

Aloha!

I've been hard at work on the new Watermelon Sushi website so I'm going to skip writing the blog this week. Meanwhile, take a look at Eva modeling the Hapa Nation 2 Hapa*Teez t-shirt. Don't hate, now. You can have one, too. Just go to: http://www.cafepress.com/hapateez

See you next week.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Chinese Black South Africans, Korean Mexicans, And Hapa Hair

During this past week, some interesting news floated across my monitor screen. One current story in the LA Times involved Koreans who have lived in Mexico for generations. Not only have they forgotten how to speak Korean, but in many ways they can't even relate to being Asian anymore. Here's the link to this fascinating article:

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/world/la-me-koreanmex16-2008aug16,0,2642318.story

Earlier in the week, I read an older article about 200,000 ethnic Chinese living in South Africa and how they've been re-classified as "black" so they can take advantage of anti-discrimination laws--giving them more opportunities to compete for jobs and contracts. Evidently, they were originally categorized under "colored", and because of it were considered white. Since whites still have major advantages in South Africa, the Chinese requested that the High Court re-classify them.

Here's the link to the bbc article:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7461099.stm

I also poked around the 'net and found this very interesting exchange about the very subject at racialicious:

http://www.racialicious.com/2008/06/25/in-south-africa-chinese-is-the-new-black/

What an interesting world! Chinese people are black now, and Koreans are Mexicans. I love it! The more mixed everyone becomes, the better we'll all get along. Don't you think?

Beyond that, it's been a personally exciting week as I continue to hear from more and more Hip Hapa Homeez. As I continue to work on an updated version of the Watermelon Sushi website, I hope to include more of you on it--so, drop me a line.

Last week, I also discovered Teri LaFlesh, a young mixed-race woman who's written very poignantly of her hair struggles while growing up. At last, able to grow a beautiful head of healthy and long hair, she decided to share her "secrets" in a book. She has a website all about her hapa hair experiences. Take a look:

http://www.biracialhair.info/Welcome.html

In the meantime, contact me so I can know who you are. I promise to answer.

btw, my kind neighbor from Ukraine gave me a delicious watermelon the other day. That's not it in the photo, of course, because I already ate it.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Upcoming Events

Aloha Hip Hapa Homeez!

I hope you're having a hapa summer.

There are a lot of upcoming activities tied to this blog, so watch the writer. First of all, there's going to be a major overhaul of the Watermelon Sushi film website including the addition of some new folks to the production. Right now, I'm gathering photos and bios so you'll see the new Watermelon Sushi team, hopefully, by the end of this month. That url again: http://www.watermelonsushi.com

With the re-launch of Hapa*Teez t-shirts, some hip hapas have agreed to model their purchases for both this blog and the film website. So, stay tuned to view some hot, haute, hip hapa homeez in Hapa*Teez!

As the hip hapa population grows, the larger monoracial groups are going to have to start taking us seriously when we demand that our stories be splayed across the screen--both big and small--and onstage and in books to reflect our presence in the world. After all, we have a U.S. presidential contender in Mr. Hapa-bama. Hip hapa homeez, our day is here and we need to carpe diem!

If you know of any biracial bloggers or mixed-race organizations that are forwarding our multi-racial agendas, please drop me a line with their info. Tonight, I'm adding the link to Martine McDonald's blog to my own (on the blog roll to the right). She's a very sensitive sistah, so give her a read. I think she speaks for a lot of us blendies.

And, I'm still recruiting for Guest Bloggers if any of my readers are interested.

Meanwhile, have a hapa week!

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

"Ethnic" Hair v. Non-Ethnic Hair

Aloha! It's been another busy week here in my Watermelon Sushi World, and I'd like to thank all my Hip Hapa Homeez who have reached out. A shout out to both Maria K.L. and Jason K. for their support.

Here, check out this very funny video clip about a biracial brother that Jason recently sent me:

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=201Qo-LZ78Y

In addition to blogging, Jason is also interested in creating a group of "federated multi-ethnics". What do you think? Can it be done? Contact him to let him know. His link is listed on the side. One of the topics the Mixed Chicks and I discussed was what, if any, differences exist between a biracial double-minority versus one who is half-Caucasian. Do you know?

Now, on to some fun. Have you ever wondered why there's a section at the drugstore called "Ethnic Hair Products"? I mean, does that imply that non-minorities (specifically non-blacks) have no ethnicity? When advertisers label hair "ethnic", it seems they're really referring to black folks since other minorities, especially Asians, the indigenous and Latinas often have straight hair similar to whites'--which responds to "non-ethnic" hair products. Are black people, and people mixed with black people, the only ones who are "ethnic"? What about Jews or curly-headed Euros?

Growing up, I remember many painful moments as my Japanese mother had such a time with our hip hapa hair. My sister and I had unnaturally thick, unruly manes and before handheld blow dryers were on the market, we were subjected to a weekly washing that consisted of my mother inverting the vacuum cleaner hose to dry our hair. After that, she greased up her palms with Alberto VO-5 petroleum jelly and soon my sister and I would have two long, shiny braids cascading down our chests topped by a little tootsie roll for bangs. Whenever we balked at having our hair combed, my mother would admonish us, "Why make hair so bushy?" Looking back, I have to laugh. While she was chastising us for our Asiatic Afro-puffed hair, she was constantly perming hers! Was she subconsciously trying to look more like us?

I have no answers, just a lot of thoughts. That's me and my sister, br, in Germany.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Mixed Chicks Chat Rules!

Woo-Hoo!

I'm still stoked from my appearance today on http://www.mixedchickschat.com. Hosted by Fanshen Cox and Heidi Durow, this live podcast is all about multiracial people. Every Wednesday, at 2 pm PDT, the two women discuss the mixed-race experience--often interviewing someone who's actively involved in the community. Today, it was my turn.

After talking about my formative years growing up in a monoracial 'hood, I told my now-favorite story about people having issues pronouncing my first name. If you care to scroll back in the archives, you can read my blog about my personal war with George Takei. You know, Mr. Sulu from Star Trek? Several years ago, I attended an Asian American event where Mr. Takei was a guest. Because most people have a hard time saying "Yayoi", over time I've learned to sharply enunciate every syllable when announcing it. When I did so to Mr. Takei, he brushed me off with, "You don't even pronounce your name right!" I wasn't offended until much later when I realized he must think I don't know anything about Japanese culture just because I don't look like him. So, once again, I challenge Mr. Sulu to a duel--Who's More Japanese, Fool?

Anyway, the Mixed Chicks and I had a lot of fun talking about a lot of things. And, fun is important. That's why I've come up with terms like Hip Hapa Homeez and Hapa Japa to identify us blendies. The whole business of being multiracial in a monoracial world is serious enough and, often, our approach is just too academic for the average person to take in. Therefore, my thing is to add a little hiphop, pop culture flava to our experience.

Two topics currently running on my Facebook Hip Hapa Homeez group page are:

1. Why don't more Asian men and black women have interracial relationships? Asian men tell me they think the sistahs are hot, while black women say Asian men are quite attractive. So, what's the problem, ya'll?

2. It's that old bugaboo, hair, again. So many mixed-race people have hair that's different from their parents. It's especially tricky when the mother has a certain texture of hair different from her daughter(s). With boys, I guess, you can just cut it all off. But, in my, and my sister's case, my Japanese mother with her bone-straight hair would simply "plait" our unruly manes after greasing 'em up with petroleum jelly!

Anyway, it's good to connect so check out some of the links I've posted about friends I've been connecting with lately. And, definitely, give the Mixed Chicks a listen.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Albino Massacre

Recently, there's been some disturbing news--sort of race-based--coming out of Tanzania where it's been rumored that albinos (people who lack melanin to produce skin color) possess a kind of magic in their bodies. So-called witch doctors have been telling their clients to provide them with the legs, hands and/or hair of an albino in exchange for magical powers.

What's interesting about this atrocity is that an albino of black African descent has very white-pinkish skin even though his or her facial features are not Caucasian. Therefore, it sort of reinforces that white skin, again, is of more value than dark skin--of course, in a very perverse way since the white-skinned African is murdered for his or her more highly valued body.

Many unfortunate albinos have been living in fear that they will be attacked with machetes, and some have taken to living together in shelters. Besides being a real tragedy, this abomination is just one more area of life where skin color becomes the pervasive issue.

Sometimes, I wonder if it will ever stop.

Here's a link to the BBC coverage of this story:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/em/fr/-/2/hi/programmes/newsnight/7520690.stm

btw, join my Facebook group Hip Hapa Homeez to view stories like this one and take part in discussions about them.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Interracial Cartoon Family And Why We Don't Look Like Countries Anymore

I never dreamed of the day when a syndicated cartoon would feature an interracial family. Since I'm not a regular reader of newspaper comics, I have no idea how long the strip called Jump Start written by Robb Armstrong has been in effect, nor how long it's featured an interracial family. Last week, as I was scanning the Sunday comic page and spotted it, I did a double-take. I didn't dupe the cartoon here because, unlike other folks, I do respect copyright laws. I did check out the artist's site, but the cartoon that ran in my local paper wasn't posted there. Instead, there were some with longer panels.

Anyway, in the four panel piece that I read, a little boy (sort of a beige-ish color) asks his burly, brown-skinned and obviously Negroid-featured father, "Dad, am I black or white?" His father replies, "CJ, your heritage is rich. My side of our family is Jamaican, Cherokee and Nigerian. Your mom is Italian, Irish, and German." The father says this last part while hugging his red-headed, very light beige-ish wife. The boy then asks, "Which one is our favorite?"

In looking over the list of nationalities the father mentioned, I realized that they aren't necessarily races or ethnic groups in of themselves. For instance, one could be born "German", but be of African ancestry because a parent migrated from Ghana. In other words, stating that one is "German" is similar to stating that one is "American". Is everyone in America Anglo? Is everyone in Germany?

It got me thinking about what, exactly, people mean when they tell me I look Brazilian, Cuban or Hawai'ian. When I recently watched Antonia, a Brazilian film about four singing girls of various hues and combos of local Indian, Portuguese and ancestors of African slaves, it struck me how many possibly different looks a Brazilian could possess. When people tell me I look Hawai'ian, do they mean I could pass for a Native like Princess LikeLike, or are they referring to one of the many mixes of hapa Asians or hapa haoles that now inhabit the islands of Hawai'i? What about when they ask me if I'm Cuban? Are they referring to the descendants of African slaves, Spanish invaders, or perhaps Taino or Arawak Indians, or all of the above?

It gets pretty complicated. As more people migrate worldwide, it will no longer be correct to tell someone that they look like a country. We will either need to be more specific, or else forget about racial designations altogether.

I have a Kenyan friend who is Kamba. She tells me that she can easily tell the differences among the main ethnicities--Kikuyu, Luhya and Luo-- even though to us outsiders they all look Kenyan, or African to those less learned. I have another friend who is the stereotyped red-headed, milky-skinned Irish American. She has told me fascinating tales of Black Irish who live in Ireland, and are of African Moorish descent.

My point is that to say someone looks like a particular country anymore is redundant. To state that someone is Jamaican isn't descriptive enough. Bob Marley was Jamaican, but Bob Marley also had a white European father. Do all Jamaicans look like Bob Marley? Certainly not Peter Tosh.

Anyway, it will be interesting to see where the future takes us. Perhaps we'll all become so multinational that we'll no longer be able to distinguish anyone racially based on the country of their origin.

That's me with Ava DuVernay in the photo above. A well-known L.A. publicist, Ava also made a documentary called This Is The Life. I'll post her link, momentarily.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Hancock's And Hellboy's Mixed Marriages

So, maybe it's going to be the superhero movies or the animation flicks that finally make it acceptable to be married to someone with a different skin color than yours. This past week, I attended two (count 'em!) press screenings where the theme of mixed-race couples was couched inside of a larger story, but, nevertheless, pretty obvious for anyone with a functioning brain.

First, there was Hancock. (WARNING: Spoiler ahead!) In this flick, Will Smith plays an anti-hero superhero who, in spite of his heroic deeds, is disliked by the public because of his nasty temper and funky attitude. But guess what? He has a REASON to be so mean. You see, his wife...(well, he doesn't know she's his wife yet because he had this nasty little concussion which led to amnesia so he forgot that he was married to Charlize Theron who, like Hancock it turns out, possesses some superhero powers herself, but who)...had to leave him because together their powers were too potent that it caused others to try to get rid of them (hmmm, is that a hint about race-mixing there?).

So, Theron's character marries a Caucasian mortal as Hancock saves the city while destroying himself with beer and a three-day growth of beard. With some of the swearing that goes on in that movie, I can't believe it's supposed to be a kids' flick. But as far as mixed-race coupling goes, that's a good thing for all kids to see--and everyone else, too, for that matter. If all the people all over the world were exposed to interracial couples constantly as if it were perfectly normal, we might just get past our race issues.

Watching Theron, a white South African, play opposite Smith, an African American, made me wonder what Steven Biko would think were he alive today. That he sacrificed his life for just this type of acceptance for blacks doesn't take the sting away from his death.

In any case, one mixed-marriage in a single movie was something to behold, but two in two movies in one week? That's exactly what happened when Mr. Hellboy with his red skin, horns and tail paired up with Selma Blair aka Liz Sherman, his pyrotechnic sidekick. Even though both actors are white, their characters are a devil and a human who creates fire with her body. And, although the two were just shacking up and not technically married, the fire girl was pregnant with the devil boy's baby which means this film, in addition to encouraging interracial couples, is also promoting biracial children!

If my thoughts appear to be a stretch to you, just take a closer look at both movies. We already know that animated films can be subversive as heck. Sit down with the kids on some Saturday morning and listen to what those cartoon characters are actually saying. Or, watch South Park or The Simpsons. That's the trick, right? If you make it come out of the mouth of something not quote unquote real, then it doesn't really count. So, that's why you can have a chicken spouting socialist philosophy in a capitalistic mainstream cartoon and get away with it. And, that's why superheros can have relationships with beings outside of their own race and it flies with Hollywood.

Just think about it. On that note, I wish you bon nuit in Hapawood.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Hapa*Teez Hollahs!

Important Announcement:

Hapa*Teez is searching for models who have purchased one of its t-shirts. If that describes you, hollah back at hiphapa@comcast.net. We'd like to post a photo of you wearing your t-shirt both on this blog and on the upcoming, updated version of the Watermelon Sushi website.

Now, on to some news about us blendies. This week, Essence magazine posted an online article about biracial actress Karyn Parsons. You may remember her from tv's The Fresh Prince playing the clueless and self-absorbed Hillary. However, Parsons comes across in the interview as the complete opposite of her spoiled character. Instead of being the airhead that Hillary was, Parsons appears to be quite intelligent as she discusses motherhood and what inspired her to write a book about black history. Although her second husband is white like her father, Parsons has a strong sense of her mother's African roots. Yet, the readers' comments that followed her story were incredible. Evidently, there are a lot of angry feelings in the community among mono-racial people who just don't get the biracial experience. While it's true that slavery of Africans by Europeans is to blame for the color-struck attitudes among some of us, we've reached a time in history when we should know that and move beyond it. Some readers even questioned Parsons' right, given her mixed-race heritage, to address black issues! Unbelievable. Yet, in a way, some of their attitudes are understandable given the horrific incidents that still occur to some blacks today.

For instance, several days later, I read about the murder of an African American woman by a hitman who was hired by her Indian husband's father. That's right, Indian as in India. Now, I know you've seen some Indians who are as African-looking as folks from the Continent. And, it's clear that the geographical locations of the subcontinent and Africa are close enough that it's plausible there were travelers bouncing from one locale to another mixing and mingling. Yet this lighter-skinned Indian man felt that his brown African American daughter-in-law was so beneath his son--even after she gave birth to his granddaughter--that he hired someone to kill her. How can hatred, fostered by differences in skin color, still exist in the year 2008? Why do we still have a caste system based on something that no one can help?

Was I on the receiving end of any good news this week? Sure, there were plenty of kind people out there who encouraged and supported my hip hapa agenda. Thanks to Anjulie and Jamilla, Kim of Tacoma, Jaz of the International Black Film Festival of Nashville, rapper Miwa Lyric, Michelle of the WWII War Brides Association, Ms. Lucy of Kailua, the Mixed Chicks, Kahlil Crawford (pictured above), and many more folks that I've probably inadvertently omitted (apologies!).

In spite of the tragedies and continued misunderstandings that abound about biracial, blended, hapa, mixed-race, multi-cultural and multiracial folks, we're moving forward, kids.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Tissue, Toilet Paper, Miwa And Anjulie

Several days ago, my good friend Miwa Lyric presented me with a gift that she had brought all the way from Japan. Nestled inside a small, plastic, pink pouch was a package of thin tissue paper for removing oil from ladies' faces. Both cute and functional, the tissues sparked a conversation regarding various Japanese customs.

A third person sitting with us that day had never been to Japan, and was surprised to hear that Japanese public toilets offer no paper towels with which to dry one's hands. Instead, Japanese carry their own private handkerchiefs with which they pat their wet hands. When you think about it, using one's own hanky is much more sanitary considering that one avoids dispensing a paper towel from a machine that's dripping with the mixture of water and germs left by the previous person. Which brings me to this...what is up with Asians and toilet paper?

At first, I thought it was just our family. I mean, my mother literally walks around with a roll of toilet paper that she uses primarily to blow her nose. She's always had bad sinuses so she's always been stuffed up. But, what's wrong with using a box of tissues? Is she just being thrifty (in only the way that Asians can be) by not purchasing tissues because she already has toilet paper in the house?

One day as I was riding a bus, I happened to look down at the car next to us. There, through the back window I spotted a roll of toilet paper sitting on the rear dashboard. "Hmm," I said to myself silently. "I bet they're Asian." When the bus pulled up ahead of the car, I could see clearly that the family was Asian. Big surprise.

Speaking of surprises, I recently saw a thought-provoking indie film that posed many intelligent questions. Medicine for Melancholy is about two African Americans who find themselves facing each other following a drunken one-night stand. At one point, the male questions the female about relationships and wonders why blacks seem to always cling to whites when it comes to interracial pairings. Why, he asked, don't we ever see a black woman with an Asian man? I wonder that a lot myself. If you know, please drop me a comment.

And, thanks everyone for your support. If you bought a Hapa*Teez t-shirt, please let me know if you'd like to submit a photo of yourself wearing one for this blog as well as for the Watermelon Sushi website.

As for the photo above, that's my sweet buddy Anjulie, a transracial adoptee whom I met several years ago at Occidental College. She'll be visiting this week and filling me in on all her mad adventures. This pix was taken while she was touring Ghana.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

In A Minute

Aloha,

Your Hip Hapa has been so busy working on a documentary and creating new designs for the Hapa*Teez line of t-shirts, that she's decided she needs this week away from blogging. Speaking of Hapa*Teez, you can now get two different Watermelon Sushi logos printed on them.

Please stay tuned for more controversy as Your Hip Hapa returns with several hot topics, and a few new links to some pretty cool blogs and sites.

btw, that's her, above, living in Waikiki in 1994. Recently, she reconnected with a Honolulu friend and will blog about their adventures soon!

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Hapa Japas, That's Ja As In "Jah"

Today, I met yet another half Japanese person! It just amazes me how many of us there are because gazing from a distance it appears that Japanese society is highly homogenized with very little race-mixing. Yet, at times, I feel like I know a ton of biracial Japanese people.

Hapa Japas, I like to call us. That's Ja as in Jah Rastafari!

From all the kids I grew up with on Army bases (with their Japanese warbride mothers and fathers that were either black or white Americans) to the woman I met in yoga class today, we are many.

The woman from yoga class, Cathy, has an Irish father and was born and reared in Yokohama. Her daughter's father is also Japanese. I'm really curious to know how growing up in Japan affected her. She has a very European look so maybe life wasn't as traumatic for her as it was for someone like my friend Eriko who is half Okinawan and half black. For Eriko, Okinawa instills both a sense of pride and shame because of the way she was treated for having an African American father.

Interesting, isn't it? That a country (either Japan or Okinawa) that boasts no NATIVE black people quickly built a prejudice against them...based on what, exactly? When you've never had a certain people embedded in your country, how would you know what they're capable of or not? By the same token, whites weren't always treated well by the Japanese either. But, as in most places on planet earth, they fared better than blacks.

It's been a long time since I visited Japan, but back in the 1980's when I did with my mother and sister, we were well received. But, then again, the Japanese tend to put politeness ahead of opinion, so how do I know what others really thought? Obviously, too, because my sister and I were with my mother, we were afforded a certain respect by default. Since my mom was one of "them", my sister and I were give a wide margin for error by the locals.

Because of my advocacy for mixed-race folks, over the years I've been contacted by many half Japanese people. Recently, two sisters, Cassie and Doris befriended me. It's been a real treat to share stories of our similar experiences. And, I'm looking forward to knowing more Hapa Japas, so hollah if you're out there, cuz.

Can you name some Hapa Japas? I just visited a website called Alec In Japan that showcased a dozen half Japanese celebrities--none of whom I had ever heard of.

Here's my very small list because I'm tired and it's late:

Anzu Lawson, actress/comedienne, Japanese mother

Laura Kina, painter/professor, Japanese father

Stewart David Ikeda, writer/professor, Japanese father

Terra Paley, business consultant, Japanese mother

Velina Hasu Houston, playwright/professor, Japanese mother

George Johnston, writer/publisher, Japanese mother

Add more?

That's me in a pic taken by Doug Ing right after I won third place in a citywide art contest in Seattle one year. I cut myself in half to go with my illustration's theme.

Your Hip Hapa and Hapa Japa,

Yayoi

Amazing Race/Passing As Black!

What a profound sense of wonderment in the realization that we may soon have our first mixed-race president in America. Of course, we know that Obama is mixed-race because we know his history. But how many ex-presidents were actually mixed-blood, and didn't proclaim it? Rumors have abound for decades about Warren Harding having Negro blood. Ditto, folks like Jimmy Carter (just look at them lips!) and even Bill, the Ill, Clinton (dope-smoking, sax-playing, womanizer--puhleeze, as if those traits are attributable only to blacks).

It wasn't so long ago when folks would whisper about those who "passed". Passing, the act of denying your birth race and pretending you're of another ethnicity--especially when it means being black but living as white--gained in popularity, ironically, with the progression of freed blacks. As opportunities opened up for regular black folks released from the bondage of slavery, some of those with mixed-blood who could, indeed, would pass for white. Why not? Life was easier for them living as a white person in a white world. And, they could appreciate the advantage of being treated as an equal; that is, if no one ever discovered their dark (ha-ha) secret.

Most black people seemed to be of two minds about the passing phenomena. For one, the black community felt that if one of their own could make it out of the oppressiveness that automatically came with having darker skin, perhaps it was a good thing that one less of their people was suffering.

On the other hand, some blacks saw the rejection of their race as a traitorous act. How could someone choose to be white and leave all their sisters and brothers behind to suffer?

It's an interesting concept, passing, and I've even written a feature film script about such a character in modern times. Email me at hiphapa@comcast.net if you'd like to know more.

One true life story that comes to mind is the tale of Johnny Spain, a follower of the George Jackson Brigade and one of the San Quentin Six who was convicted of murder. A friend once gave me a copy of Spain's bio, Black Power, White Blood, and I was absolutely riveted. Incredibly, Spain was born in 1949 to a white woman in Mississippi who was married to a white man. For some unfathomable reason, she kept her baby following an affair with a black man. In her defense, she may have thought the child was her husband's, but as the baby got older it became clear to everyone that he had darker skin and tighter hair than anyone in their Anglo family. By the time he was six and ready for school, his parents couldn't take it anymore. His mother feared that her husband would harm him, and Spain's white "father" refused to be further humiliated. So, Spain was put up for adoption and sent to live with a black family in Los Angeles. In Mississippi, he'd been too black; in L.A., he was too white. Because he never felt as if he belonged, he acted out by getting into trouble. When he killed a man in a botched robbery, Spain was sent to prison. There, he found George Jackson and, in many ways, himself. Today, Spain is a community worker in the Bay Area.

Of course, it's just speculation, but had Spain been born a little later, he might have been an Obama (the murder rap and bad behavior aside). Certainly his political activism shows he has concern for the community. In some ways, his white mother was as progressive as Obama's. She didn't see color, she said in the book. To her, the black man she had a relationship with was just another man. The Loving v. Virginia case that went to the Supreme Court challenging anti-miscegenation laws didn't occur until 1967. That means, Spain's mother could've been arrested for her act of rebellion. Talk about idealism. Perhaps, that's where Spain inherited his sense of resistance.

In any case, Spain only passed as white because he was a child who had no control over his environment. If anything, Obama is passing as black. Although he's never denied his white mother, Obama refers to himself as a black man. Nothing wrong with that. Passing has now come full circle!

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Here's the link to a really great article on Johnny Spain. http://www.chipbrown.net/articles/spain.htm

New Publishing Date

Dear Faithful Reader,

With the busy summer months almost upon me, I've decided that I can only devote one day a week to blogging. I shall return on Wednesday with my weekly blog. Please stay tuned.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

P.S. My condolences to Mr. Bo Diddley's family and friends. Mr. Diddley, who recently passed away, was (as an excellent article in the New York Times claimed) one of the original founders of rock-n-roll. I recall seeing him, as a 19 year-old, at an outdoor musical festival--back when outdoor musical festivals used to be psychedelic. Among a bunch of hippies with flowers in their hair (and not much else on their bodies), Mr. Diddley traded sexually-laced barbs and quips with a female in his band. My mouth dropped open and stayed that way throughout his entire performance. I had never heard such language spoken anywhere before! Still, Mr. Diddley was entertaining and powerfully talented as so many black musicians that hailed from the South often are/were. May his soul find peace.

That's me in the photo at 17, not 19. Check out those earrings!

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.

Perfect Peace

Although I consider myself an armchair anti-war activist, I have to admit that growing up on military bases was one of the best things that happened to me and my sister. Ironically, we spent our teen years as peaceniks protesting the Vietnam War and the "military industrial complex". But looking back now, I see that had it not been for the U.S. Army I wouldn't have been born me. The only reason my father was in Japan was because of war. Had he not met and married my mother, I might've ended up with a Japanese otosan. What a strange concept to consider!

But back to childhood. Even though we were unaware of it at the time, those military bases were havens of perfect peace for us kids of mixed marriages. Shortly after WWII, American military men took warbrides from Europe, Asia and Australia. Many GI's ended up with German and Japanese wives. During our years at Ft. Lewis, I remember having lots of friends with Japanese or German mothers. Their fathers were sometimes white, sometimes black.

In any case, I never heard a single racist comment during that period. Instead, I learned snippets of various languages and cultural traditions from all of my classmates. My best friend, Sondra, whose family was Puerto Rican once invited me to her Catholic Church. Although I consider myself agnostic, it was richly rewarding to be exposed to someone else's religion. My sister's best friend, Tessie, was Filipina and I remember that meals served in her home were markedly different from what Sondra's family dined on. The mother of the Mexican family next door taught my mother to make a popular noodle dish. In fact, there was so much ethnic diversity in our neighborhood that it was like living at the United Nations. Only no one seemed to notice that everyone was different because being different was normal.

Several years later, when my father moved us to an all-white, middle-class neighborhood in nearby Tacoma, our neighbors there rolled up the welcome mat and tossed it out. Today, I realize that the only reason no one burned crosses in our yard was because they thought they had too much class although they probably thought about doing it. A fireman who lived across the street called my sister and me the "n-word" one day as we walked past his house. Huh? How'd you like to have him come put out the fire at your house? Let's see, "Ya'll are nothin' but a buncha "n-words" so I'ma jest let yo home burn down." Most of the kids in our 'hood just told us point blank that they weren't "allowed" to play in our yard like we had a disease or something. Only one girl, whose parents both worked in factories, ever actually came inside our house. I guess, in the eyes of the rest of the neighbors, her having laborer folks put her in the same class with us coloreds.

When I was in high school, my two best friends were also the offspring of warbrides. Silvia's mother was Austrian while Helen's mother was French. I was also friends with two girls who both had German mothers although one had a black father, and the other a white. I don't think any of us were particularly conscious of it then, but one of the reasons, I figure, that drew us together was our having mothers with accents. Having a foreign-born mother is what separated us from other classmates more so, I believe, than being mixed-race, or even black. I mean, it was a pretty big deal to attend some mother-daughter school function and present your mom to "real Americans" who would gawk at her before rudely demanding of you, "What did she say? I can't understand her." Of course, there was probably some remaining hostility towards Germans and Japanese who had been America's enemies during the war. Still, common sense would dictate that warbrides had been screened and approved for immigration by the U.S. How harmful could they've been? Was my mother toting a machine gun during the war? Was she the one who ordered the bombing of Pearl Harbor? Between dodging bombs dropped by Americans and running to bomb shelters, she barely survived on the few rations doled out by her government.

While we've come a long way since the days of outright animosity towards foreigners, we still have a ways to go. That's evident by some of the events that took place post-9/11. A friend of mine who is half black and half white, but looks of Arab descent, caught hell the first year following 9/11. When he once visited me in Los Angeles, he was stopped from taking photos of the LaBrea Tar Pits! No kidding.

These days, I'm grateful for my military upbringing although I remain vehemently anti-war. Still, I believe the only answer to peace is education. Until people learn the truth by studying accurately recorded history, we are doomed as a species to continue battling one another based on some physical trait.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Milli Vanilli And DeBarge: Tragic Mulattos?

Lately, it seems those of black and white mixed-race heritages have taken to calling themselves mulattos. In the past, the term was considered derogatory but there's been a radical revival in the black/white community to identify themselves as such. At one time, mulatto was thought to be derived from the Spanish word for mule, or a half-bred animal. Today, mulattos point to the Arabic muwallad, which means "mixed-race person", as the source of their definition for the word. In any case, it isn't for me to decide what that group wants to call itself. I'm more curious about the term "tragic mulatto" which refers to mixed black/white people who are thought to lead horrific lives because they are never quite black enough to be black, or white enough to be white.

So, the question that begs an answer is this: Are mulatto lives any more tragic than other mixed-race people's? It seems that if one is the biracial offspring of two minorities, hope (as it were) is not as high for finding acceptance among the dominant majority. Therefore, your expectations are lower and you're not as devastated when whites don't accept you. But if you have one white parent, you might feel you deserve to be recognized by half your race which could, arguably, lead to tragic consequences.

While I was working on a tedious homework assignment today, I just had to go there. You know where...to YouTube! Telling myself that I'd just listen to one or two songs and not even look at the videos, I found myself peeping at the "tragic mulattos" Milli Vanilli and DeBarge. Wow. Here were two very talented musical groups that experienced untold tragedy. Both were hot in the 1980's with major hit records, and while one was a family composed of mulattos, the other was a duo with a mulatto member. The DeBarges were several brothers and a sister who had a white father and a black mother. The oldest, Bobby, had a voice like silk and his group, Switch, scored with tunes like I Call Your Name. Later on, the DeBarge's featured youngest brother El, whose incredible chops was the cause for some women (and men) becoming pregnant according to the comments left on YouTube. While I haven't done any extensive research into the DeBarge family, I do know that brother Chico ended up in prison, brother James married Janet Jackson who later had the nuptials annulled, and gorgeous brother Bobby ended up dying of AIDS at a young age. As for Milli Vanilla, everyone probably knows that they won a Grammy they had to return after it was revealed the voices on their records were not theirs. The two fine young thangs wore dreadlocks wrapped in gypsy-style scarves, gold earrings, incredibly tight pants and long, wide-shoulder coats. Evidently, their singing wasn't as hot as their bodies so their record company cut them a deal...until they were outed in disgrace. Tragically, the German and black member of the duo ended up overdosing on drugs.

Is it just a musician thang? Everyone knows how crazy their lives are. Or, were Milli Vanilli and DeBarge impacted by their mulatto heritages?

Talk to me. (Incidentally, that was Chico DeBarge's big hit.)

Oh, yeah. That's me above in the late 1980's looking like I could've been a member of DeBarge, or, Milli Vanilli for that matter.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

What Blend Of Mixed-Race Person Are You?

Are there any particular blends of mixed-race people that have it harder than other biracial folks? I'm just wondering because I peeped in tonight on The Study of Racialism forum, and was surprised to discover the intensity of replies to statements posted there. Most of the folks commenting referred to themselves as mulattos. Obviously, they were part black and part white, but not necessarily exactly half of each. A lot of them had a beef with the black community calling them race traitors if they chose to claim their European side. They also had issues with whites whom they accused of "One Drop Ruling" them. That is, calling them black when only one parent was--a la Halle Berry and Barack Obama. One woman, who described herself as "light-skinned", wrote about being immediately classified as black whenever she told any Caucasian that she was mixed.

Anyway, take a look at the site and add your comments to the controversy. I think Obama is a typical example of what happens with biracial children of one black and one white parent. That good ole One Drop Rule rears its head and you're forced to deny your own parent. I mean, he grew up with his white mother. She must've influenced him more than anyone else on earth. Yet, he knew instinctively that Euro-Americans as a group would never accept him as one of theirs so he forged a black male identity on his own. That's enough to make me want to vote for him right there. I mean, do you know how hard it is growing up a black male and without a father to boot?

As for us AfroAsians, the picture is definitely different--but not necessarily easier or better. Back in the day, I found it extremely difficult to relate to the Asian American community. In spite of my mother teaching me Japanese language and culture, I wasn't accepted as being Asian, and I didn't care either. But after I became involved with APA's via my writing for Asian community newspapers, I learned that young folks (and some older ones) didn't have the same prejudices as their parents did. btw, that's me and Naila in the photo above. She's also Japanese and black, and we met in Seattle a few years ago. The last I heard she was at Harvard Law School, but I've lost track. Naila, if you're out there, hollah at your girl!

It's really interesting when you think about it--the lighter-skinned group worldwide somehow is the one that always possesses the status to reject the darker group. There was a time (pre-1980's) when most whites looked down their noses at Asians. And, Asians, in turn, dissed black folks. So who did that leave for black people to put down?

I don't care what you look like, if you tell black folks that you are one of them and you hang around long enough, they will accept you as family. Check out the white valedictorian for Moorehouse's recent graduating class. From what I understand, the man claims he grew up in black communities, had mostly black girlfriends, and feels more comfortable around blacks than his own people. He even turned down Columbia in favor of hangin' with the homeboyz.

By the way, that's one of my favorite films--Hangin' With The Homeboys. My sister turned me on to it quite some time ago, and I highly recommend it. It's the story of four guys--two Latinos, two blacks--who hang out in NYC one night. The film does an excellent job touching on some race issues without being heavy-handed about it. A very young John Leguizamo stars as a lovesick youngster infatuated with a porn star working nights at the supermarket.

Ah, but I digress.

Meanwhile, across the globe, we see the caste system in effect in India where lighter skin and Aryan features are touted in Bollywood flicks yet no tight-haired brown-skinned folks ever star in those movies and we know India is filled with them. So, just when did this dark-skinned thing start, and why? Since when did the abundance, or lack of, melanin become the measuring stick for what is good and desirable, and what isn't, in a human being?

Okay. That's enough. I don't want to make me crazy here so I'll just bid you oyasuminasai.

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi

Emancipating Emails

Aloha All!

It may appear as if I'm tearing my hair out, but I'm actually holding my head for joy.

Why? Because today I received several emancipating emails. That is, emails that addressed the mixed-race agenda with the type of dialogue that I find freedom-inducing. One email (from an interested observer of hapa life; thank you, Michael!) offered up a comprehensive list of films about mixed-race folks available at UC Berkeley. Here's the link:

http://www.lib.berkeley.edu/MRC/mixedracevid.html

The list of mostly documentaries is quite extensive and filled with one-time projects by filmmakers that I haven't heard about since their single effort. Mixed-race issues are tough subjects to get financed. I can attest to that, having watched my Watermelon Sushi film project stall at the gate time and again over the past 9 years.

Recently, I read that Halle Berry is working on a new movie about a mixed-race woman who has a psycho "white" side, or it could've been her "black" side attacking her "white side". Whatever. Big surprise--not--how Hollywood still views the "tragic mulatto". Didn't you know that biracial people are never emotionally healthy or normal? Not according to the studios.

Speaking of mulatto, I personally find the word disturbing but I know that some racially-mixed black and white folks are resurrecting it as if flinging it back to the originators--much like how the "n" word is used in some instances. More power. Since I'm not of that particular mix, it's not my place to tell ya'll what to call yourselves. However, an interesting topic being discussed at The Study of Racialism website is called "Honk for Mulattos", which also ended up in my mailbox today. It seems one commenter was quite upset at seeing postings like "I Brake for Mulattos". It's an interesting subject, so check it out at:

http://onedroprule.org/viewtopic.php?p=38796#38796

And, finally, a reader of this blog (thank you, One Creative Soul!) suggested a site where a list of mixed-race celebrities was posted. Upon closer inspection, I noted there were few AfroAsians in the group, and I immediately thought of some who could've been posted but weren't. Whenever I get a moment (and you, too), I plan to contact the publisher to have more names added. Here's the link:

http://www.blackflix.com/articles/multiracial.htm

btw, has Vin Diesel ever 'fessed up about his blend?

Mahalo nui loa to all of you who continue to show your support for mixed-race folks everywhere. Aloha no!

Your Hip Hapa,

Yayoi