singkek

The Cleaner

2008-07-14T10:29:00.009-04:00

Definite things spring to mind when I see this poster. Asian woman character on a show called "The Cleaner" with the tag line "She's been there before." Ah yes, it must be about a Chinese laundromat. But no. When I checked out the website, I found this:

Akani Cuesta is the exotic beauty on William’s team who is just as much one of the boys with her hardened street edge. A bit of a wild card, she enjoys her job and is good at it, but resents being monitored by William, with whom there is a hint of a past relationship. Akani doesn’t need anyone’s support, especially that of her wealthy estranged father, but sometimes it seems she longs for a more settled, domestic life.

Wow. Hollywood is clearly making great strides. Backwards. Of course she's the "exotic beauty" (the actress Grace Parks is also the "exotic beauty in space" on "Battlestar Galactica.") And I just love that her character in "The Cleaner" although good at her job, longs for a "more settled, domestic life." For is there anything better in life for a woman than being a housewife?

Custom Shopping Cart

2008-07-09T22:59:00.004-04:00

Japanese Item

2008-07-03T23:56:00.000-04:00

I adore this fantastic sign which looks like an illustrated foreign dictionary, especially the "Japanese item" on the middle far right. For the "Japanese item" has no translation in English although it appears to simply be plates and cups.

Albuquerque Asianess

2008-07-02T00:11:00.006-04:00

Orchid Thai front.

Orchid Thai side. If this restaurant looks this good on the exterior, just imagine what it looks like on the inside.

Absurdly small limbs on this sushi restaurant mural.Although only 1.3% of the population of New Mexico is Asian, they have some damn fine Asian murals, faulty perspective included.

It's good to get away from New York. But it's even better coming home. Although not for long. Technically I'm still on vacation, so I'll be blogging sporadically until our next trip in a couple of weeks. After which, I'll be back to more regular blogging. Fresher, yellower, a veritable ray of afternoon sunshine.

Sayonara, and Thanks For All The Sushi

2008-06-17T09:47:00.010-04:00

Tourists in Barcelona
Photo: Carlos Lorenzo

Well it's summer, and now that we have a kid starting preschool in the fall, we're going to have to start taking our vacations at the same time as everybody else's families. Starting now. Be back sometime in July, possibly the beginning, more likely the end. This will also be an opportunity for me to figure out the "Why Blog?" and "Who cares what I have to say?" questions that plague me daily. In which case this might also be so long and farewell. Then again, who knows, I may return with a million more ideas and images. Enjoy the sunshine.

Sex and the Oriental

2008-06-17T01:00:00.006-04:00

Published in 1965, this paperback offers, "A shocking report on modern-day morality in the mysterious East." I don't think I even need to tell you what's inside. That byline says it all. Stereotypes about Asian women's sexuality that unfortunately haven't changed much in 43 years. Not that Asian men have it much better.

Ancient Chinese Secret

2008-06-14T11:27:00.006-04:00

Racist commercial by Calgon. For more viewpoints on this ad, check out the comments on this post on Racialicious.

I'd wanted to use this blog to explore my feelings on being Asian, growing up in a largely white society. And to celebrate and examine my family history. But the thing is, Asians are secretive. In Indonesian/Chinese culture at least. One is constantly reminded that everything one does or says reflects on all one's relatives, living and dead. Outsiders in the form of therapists are unwelcome, our business is our own and should not be discussed with someone else. I'd like to be frank and honest about my version of the past, and yet I'm held back by these taboos that still have a strong influence on any action I take. It's more than will this embarrass my mother/father, but will this embarrass my entire clan? And what right do I have to do such a thing? I'm not interested in being explicit about the details, I'd like above all to be fair, but I'd also like to not feel like my feet are bound by traditional values. I'm not sure where the balance is, but I am sure that all those voices in my head are putting a serious damper on my prose.

Traditional Medicine Part 1 - Kerakan and Love

2008-06-11T09:08:00.010-04:00

Glass domes used in the Chinese healing practice of 'cupping.' From mindbodysoul.tv:

Traditionally, the cups are heated with alcohol and flame on the inside to reduce the pressure, then placed over the skin. As the cup cools down, the skin is sucked up inside.

The newest innovation in cupping does away with the dangerous flame and uses a pump action instead. This is also a much more accurate way of gauging the degree of suction and, of course, eliminates the risk of burning.

Doctors of traditional Chinese medicine and practitioners of Japanese shiatsu therapy, place the cups at various positions along the meridian lines. These are the same lines used in acupuncture. There are five meridians on the back and these are usually targeted, particularly the bladder meridian.

Lin's Sister Associates - Chinese healing herbs

I recall as a child watching my mother perform kerokan on my father's back when he had a cold. First she would rub Vick's Vaporub into his back then take a quarter and scratch his back in methodical lines until the skin turned red. My dad swore by this treatment in addition to a steaming cup of sekoteng, a drink made from ginger, mungbean flour and palm sugar. My mother often offered to do kerokan to me but it looked too painful. Instead, her rubbing the Vicks on my back and chest was soothing enough. A few years ago my mother came to visit while I was pregnant and I had a bad cough. She offered to rub tiger balm on me (which I now prefer over Vicks). The feel of her soft yet strong hands on my back and the pungent vapours made me feel like a child again, no one had done that for me since I lived at home. It nearly made me cry.

I found this funny and moving account by an Indonesian woman who now lives in Japan about her mother and kerokan, here's an excerpt:

Kerokan is rubbing/scratching your body mostly on the back, using coin or spoon with ointment/balsam as the moisture agent. It painful when it done to your body (a traditional belief said, it even more painful if done by your mother, this relate to the pain she bears when delivering you to this world), but when it is done it will give a relief feeling and heal the cold.

Traditionally, kerokan belief to give the way out for the wind/air trapped in your body that cause the cold. While some study says, even it is hardly acceptable by western medical science, kerokan stimulate your body and clear the way for blood circulation. Kerokan also give you warmth from the ointment, which give comfort, heal sore muscle and unblock the stuffy nose.

Hubby never happy when seeing my mother do this to me. He said, it is cruel. Other than my body will turned red on the path of the kerokan (leave me to have the tiger mark all over for the next three days), I usually scream and even set tears to bear the pain when my mother do kerokan on me. It look like someone under torture, only this is the torture that I want, that I need for speedy recovery from the cold.

Oh Mama, I miss you.

When I moved to New York from Canada for the third time, I lost my job, $600 in savings, was kicked out of the place I was living and ended up depending on my second cousin who lived with her husband and son in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Intending to only stay for a week or two I stayed for six months having no luck with finding a job and developing both pneumonia and asthma simultaneously. This was a big faux pas as far as my mother was concerned. Taking favours was bad enough, taking them from family was verboten. But I was determined to stay in New York and this seemed to be the only way I could. Desperate after antibiotics and an asthma inhaler left me not one iota better, I took my friend's suggestion to visit her acupuncturist on 14th Street in Manhattan. The acupuncturist was a Caucasian dyke with short cropped hair, a skinny boyish body, who spoke and wrote Chinese fluently. Aside from incredibly painful acupuncture treatments she started me on some Chinese herb teas, writing out the prescription in Chinese and sending me with that 'prescription' to Lin's Sister in Chinatown. There I collected my paper bags of mysterious herbs, brought them home to my cousin's house and boiled them for an hour. Strange smells filled their apartment, which to their credit, they never complained about. In fact they were unusually accommodating hosts and had a constant stream of long term guests. I had to drink this intense tea 3x a day for a couple of months. It didn't help. It was only once I found a job and moved out of their apartment into my own place, that all my pneumonia/asthma symptoms disappeared within a couple of days. 15 years later I still use that stainless steel thermos in which I carried my Chinese tea, and despite all the other beverages it has carried since, it still smells like those herbs.

Five years later I began treatment for my acne with a friend of a friend (also white) who'd treated his cancer with herbs and and this strange computer that you a sensor that plugged into it and it told you what herbs to take. He wasn't licensed, in fact he was a screenwriter and had nothing to do with the medical field, but he believed in this treatment so strongly, I couldn't help but believe in it and him too. And besides, once again I was desperate. He also had me go off sugar in every form (no fruit, or fruit juices, or sweet vegetables like carrots) for six months. This restricted diet and the herbs seemed to help a little, but then he moved to Los Angeles without a forwarding address or phone number. And the herbs proved to be so strong they started a strange reaction in my skin, which seemed to be eating away at itself. This prompted me to stop the treatment. I still carry a scar from it on my chin.

Yellow People on the Silver Screen

2008-06-08T18:07:00.009-04:00

A Sri Lankan friend who was born in London came to visit, and told me she's done with acting, despite some success on London's stage, because "There aren't a lot of (paid) acting jobs for Asian women. Besides there are four Asian actresses in England and they get all the work." This prompted me researching and intending to write about all the white actors in Hollywood's history in 'yellowface.' But it looks like much has been written and blogged about that subject already. So instead I'm celebrating my fellow Asian thespians from the silent film era to the early 90's.

The Curse of Quon Gwon (1916). Shown at last year's Asian American Film Festival:

In 2004, while researching a project which would become HOLLYWOOD CHINESE (making its world premiere this year as the Festival’s Centerpiece Presentation), filmmaker Arthur Dong discovered two film reels (approximately thirty-five minutes) of a little-known silent film called THE CURSE OF QUON GWON.

This discovery would make history, as THE CURSE OF QUON GWON is now acknowledged as the earliest Chinese American film ever made. Written and directed by Oakland filmmaker Marion Wong in 1916, CURSE featured Wong and many of her family members in a love story as individuals placed under the curse of a Chinese god because of their westernization. After its completion, the film did not find distribution and disappeared, never actually to be seen by audiences.

The indie documentary Hollywood Chinese just showed in New York at a small theater only 3 days ago. Unfortunately, as I only discovered its existence today, I missed it. For a list of upcoming screenings across the country and elsewhere, click on the link above.

Anna May Wong in Shanghai Express (1932).

Nancy Kwan in Roger and Hammerstein's Flower Drum Song (1961) - the first Hollywood movie with an all Asian cast.

The trailer for Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story (1993) starring Jason Scott Lee.

Dr. Lee Strikes Again

2008-06-05T23:27:00.003-04:00

"Rise Sun Promise Land"
Looks like the infamous Dr. Lee and his cohorts are on the loose.

ABC, FOB, and Jook-sing

2008-06-02T22:23:00.007-04:00

Several years ago I was in a jewellery shop in New York's Chinatown buying a gold ankle-bracelet for my mom to replace one that she lost. The woman behind the counter smilingly said, "You ABC ya?" I wrinkled my forehead in confusion. "ABC, American-born Chinese," she repeated quite a bit louder in case the problem wasn't my comprehension but my hearing. I nodded, thinking that was easier than explaining that I was actually CBCI, Canadian born Chinese-Indonesian. I remember feeling pleased however, that she recognized the Westerness in me, still, at that time, thinking looking/being white was better than being Asian.

In researching the term ABC this evening, I discovered on Wikipedia, that in Asia, "locals often stereotype them (ABC) as being rich and arrogant, and having a poor command of Chinese." So instead of being a compliment as I'd taken it, it was an insult. Although I suppose being thought of as rich when I had massive credit card debt, no health insurance, and lived hand to mouth, was a compliment. I was, after all, thanks to Visa, purchasing a gold ankle bracelet. I'd thought at least, that being ABC was miles better than being FOB (fresh off the boat.)

When, perhaps, what I really am is 'Jook-sing.' Again from Wikipedia:

"Jook-sing" means a grain-measuring container made of bamboo (compare the term senk1 daw2 (升斗), daw2 being a kind of rice measurer). Bamboo is hollow and compartmentalized, thus water poured in one end does not flow out of the other end. The metaphor is that "jook-sing"s are not part of either culture: water within the jook-sing does not flow and connect to either end. It may or may not be derogatory. Use of the term predates World War II. Alternatively, Jook-sing is another term for a bamboo stick in Cantonese. While the original Cantonese term jook-gon (竹竿, bamboo stick) sounds like 竹乾 (dry bamboo) or 竹降 (fallen bamboo) (which also means "unfortunate" to Cantonese people) Cantonese speakers use Jook-sing (rising bamboo) instead. The implication is that a person is Chinese outside, hollow inside.

Gene Luen Yang has written/illustrated a graphic novel, American Born Chinese, which came out in 2006. It's on my next to read list. Here's an excerpt:

Asian Funny Ladies

2008-05-31T23:03:00.006-04:00

Margaret Cho (Korean)

This year Margaret is returning to her stand-up roots with a brand new tour, Beautiful, debuting in Australia at The Sydney Theater on February 27, 2008. This will mark the first time that Margaret has premiered a new show abroad. Margaret quips, "I love Australia! The audiences are so smart and rowdy, it's really exciting. I love that they just voted out Bush's boyfriend, John Howard. How thrilling!" Immediately following the Australian dates, Margaret will launch a national U.S. run of Beautiful, beginning on March 6 in Hawaii and running through June. Ticket and show info is available on her tour page. In describing what Beautiful means to her, Margaret explains:

I want to explore the nature of beauty. What is funny and scary about it, why we often don't feel beautiful because our society's standards are so rigid and unattainable. A DJ once asked me, "If you woke up tomorrow and you were beautiful, what would you do? If you were, blonde, blue-eyed, 5 foot 11, and weighed 100 pounds, what would you do?!?" Well, I probably wouldn't get up in that case, because I'd be too weak to stand. If that is his only idea of beauty then I feel really sorry for him. I want everyone to feel beautiful and I want to do it with laughter. Why not feel good about ourselves?

Margaret was the recipient of the first ever Best Comedy Performance award at the 2007 Asian Excellence Awards. She also recently received the First Amendment Award from the ACLU of Southern California, and the Intrepid Award from the National Organization for Women (NOW). She has also been honored by GLAAD, American Women in Radio and Television, the Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund, the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force (NGLTF), the Asian American Legal Defense and Education Fund (AALDEF), and PFLAG for "making a significant difference in promoting equal rights for all, regardless of race, sexual orientation or gender identity."

Kate Rigg (Indonesian/Australian)

Originally from Canada and Australia, but a New Yorker at heart, KATE RIGG's comedy career began the second she graduated with a degree in acting from New York's prestigious Juilliard school. A notorious culture and subculture vulture, the allure of the club scene in New York drew her to Caroline's Comedy Club where she quickly caught the attention of the New Talent Booker who slotted her for a series of appearances and features showcasing her particular brand of character based comedy, edgy socio-political commentary, asian american slanted jokes, and in your face dirty girl talk. Her career includes four major elements: comedy, music, acting and writing/producing original work. Thematically these elements are linked by a hunger for new ideas, iconoclastic imagery, challenging ideas about cultural stereotyping and a quest for expanding form and content to open up discussions about pop culture, race, comedy, media images of A/Pis and women, tolerance and linking diverse communities through art. She has brought this funky urban asian sensibility to performances at The Kennedy Center, The Smithsonian Institute, Chicago's Museum of Modern Art, NYC's Public Theater and countless engagements internationally.

Chinatown: From Dragon Fighters to Soya Bean Oil

2008-05-30T22:24:00.007-04:00

Chinatown Dragon Fighters
"Engine Company 9 is the oldest Company in the New York City Fire Department. Engine 9's roots can be traced all the way back to the Colonial days of 1731. At that time two hand pumpers were imported to New York from London, England. Before these pumpers arrived, the people had only leather buckets to transport water onto a fire."

Although Chinatown's fire station, judging by the photos on their website, none of the firefighters are Chinese. Not that you need to speak Chinese to put out a fire. But it would be nice if fire stations reflected the communities they were in.

Cardboard houses to serve the deceased in the afterlife.

Funeral flowers? Or perhaps a wedding? I wonder if I can get into that Chinese immersion progam at the charter public schools. Okay I'm about 35 years too old, but better late than never.

Chinatown community garden. Only it's not very Chinese. Looks more like a bunch of hipsters took it over with their ironic chochkes.

Chuen Lee Fabrics door.

Chuen Lee Fabrics window.

Veiled brides of soya bean salad oil. Clearly a restaurant staple.

Team Carinosos

2008-05-27T23:13:00.003-04:00

Fung Wah Bus or Ride Like an Asian (Part 2)

2008-05-26T22:42:00.009-04:00

Photo: Patrick Ruth (from the Boston side)

I forgot to tell the most interesting part of my Chinatown bus story. So here it is.

The other day, Big Joe, Little Joe and I were waiting for the J train in Brooklyn, and a dark skinned black man who was clearly from another country, with a huge suitcase on wheels stopped to ask us if we knew how to get to the Fung Wah bus. We gave him detailed directions which only seemed to confuse him. In the the end I told him to get on the train with us, as we were getting off at the Delancey stop where we could point him in the direction of the F train to East Broadway - the closest stop to the Fung Wah bus. Then we walked up Essex street towards one of our favourite playgrounds. Under the scaffolding before Houston we were stopped again by an African American man in white shorts and a sports jersey carrying a duffel bag and a drink in a paper bag, asking us for directions to the Fung Wah bus. His overfriendly demeanor and huge smile tripped both Big Joe's and my warning bells but we stopped to help him out just the same. But as Big Joe was in the middle of explaining how to get there, the stranger interrupted him. "That there your son? He gonna look just like his daddy when he grows up!" he grinned coming forward with his hand stretched out towards our son. Little Joe backed away and scowled at him. Big Joe looked clearly irritated that the man wasn't even listening to the directions he was giving. The stranger continued, "I got a little boy too. He and my wife are in Boston. That's where I'm going. How much that bus cost anyway?"
"Twenty dollars, I think." I said.
"Do you think you folks could help me out? I really need to see my family and..." At this point we'd had enough and shook our heads and moved on. The funny thing being that Big Joe gives money to just about anybody who asks for it. But this man giving this big song and dance scam put him off so much he kept his wallet closed.

So then, a few hours later we're sitting by the basketball courts next to my favourite Whole Foods, when one of the men who was playing plops himself down on the bench next to us. Big Joe is intently drawing in his sketchbook, refining a piece he'd done on the subway the day before of a sleeping fat woman. This man leans over to look at Big Joe's sketchbook and grins widely. "Hey, you real good. That's your son, right?"
I stare at the basketball player thinking he looks oddly familiar.
Big Joe glances at him briefly, and snaps quietly, "No it's a fat lady on the subway."
This doesn't faze the man in the least. "Well I'm just resting, trying to get my strength back. I'm getting killed by that young kid." He gestures at a teenager shooting hoops with older man directly in front of us. "Okay well you have a good day now," he says ambling off.
I look at Big Joe. "That drawing looks nothing like Little Joe. Did he even look at it?" Big Joe snorts and keeps sketching.

Later on the train home, I ask Big Joe, "Was that man in the park the same guy who asked us for directions to the Fung Wah bus?" To my surprise, Big Joe isn't sure. He was wearing the same white shorts outfit, had the same long face and gaunt sharp features, was carrying a duffel bag and a drink in a paper bag. And yet, why would he have come back and talked to us again? This time not bothering to ask for money? Or did he suddenly realize, mid conversation, that we were the people who didn't give him any. Perhaps all white people and Asians look the same and black people can't tell us apart. And did both men ask us for directions to the Fung Wah bus because I'm Asian? Or because we look like savvy New Yorkers who might know about good deals on public transport?

Cheap Death Defying Public Transport

2008-05-23T23:48:00.012-04:00

Cleveland, Pittsburgh, and Harrisbury, routes we've yet to try if we're brave enough.

Much has been written about the Chinatown Bus. Just google it and you'll see. The general consensus is that, yes it is the cheapest way to get to Philly or Boston (the most popular routes) but the question remains if you'll arrive in one piece. Big Joe and I have taken it several times to Philadelphia and it was pretty good, piercingly loud Chinese movies being played overhead excluded. But then not long after Little Joe was born, the three of us took it to Boston to spend Christmas with an old friend of Big Joe's family. And actually aside from the general horror of traveling with a baby who needed to nurse constantly and abhorred any sort of restraint such as a car seat, the trip there was fine. But the middle-aged Caucasian driver who drove us back to New York was either seriously sleep deprived, a drug addict or an alcoholic, or perhaps all three. He drove (if you could call it that) with complete disregard for staying in the lane, stop lights, curbs, and speed limits. How we made it back alive is a complete miracle.

It actually reminded me of the buses in Indonesia which I never experienced first hand for very good reason. First of all, as the bus drivers there make their money by how many passengers they pick up, the buses were overcrowded plus they drove like maniacs, even passing other buses in single lane traffic in order to get to the next group of passengers first. Secondly we saw a number of overturned buses in the ditches, some intact, some just the charred remains.

Chinatown's Bravest

2008-05-21T01:11:00.007-04:00

Bravest P/C

New York's Bravest may be the firefighters, but this pest control company considers themselves the most courageous. And in a city with rats the size of cats, that could be true. Considering the amount of shattered glass on the inside of this building, whatever was plaguing this restaurant must have not given up without a good fight.

Preferred Drug of the Masses

2008-05-18T01:33:00.014-04:00

Photo of *Starbucks in Indonesia by Malaysian blogger, Johnny Ong. "Starbucks has branched out in Indonesia but with the implementation of a new local policy, Starbucks has to adopt a similar pronunciation but with different spelling."

Most people assume that if you're Asian, you must not only drink tea, but prefer it. However the Indonesian hot beverage of choice is coffee. Strong coffee. You haven't had strong coffee until you've drank coffee from an Indonesian street vendor. When my mother took my brother and me to Indonesia for a month long tour of Bali and her old haunts in Java, I discovered kopi tubruk and kopi susu. The first made by filling a glass half full with coffee grounds, adding a fourth of a glass of sugar and filling it to the top with hot water - stir, let the grounds settle and drink. Kopi susu is made by replacing the sugar with condensed milk.

My mother can't stand drinking milk or tea. Milk, because when she was little her mother gave her fresh, raw cow's milk, warm from the cow's udders. Too intense. But she forced herself to drink skim milk (all she could handle) while pregnant with my brother and me for the extra calcium. While tea is just an insipid beverage that she makes herself drink because she thinks it's healthier than coffee. Sometimes she even convinces herself that she likes it. But we both know this isn't true, evidence being the ancient packets of tea gathering dust in her kitchen cupboard.

I rarely drink coffee because I get so buzzed on it I can't sleep. So jittery that I drop things and literally bounce off the walls. But it's hayfever season, and my hayfever makes my eyes so puffy and watery that I just want to sleep, so I've been upping my caffeine intake. Today Big Joe and I drank a large cup of coffee (they only have one size) from Mud, his favourite coffee bar in New York. Unlike other coffee bars, Mud heats up the milk and half and half before pouring it in your coffee, so it doesn't become the horror of confirmed coffee drinkers - lukewarm. I've had coffee from Mud once before, it was tasty and though a little buzzed I was still able to sleep. Today's coffee, however, was turbo charged. So much so that Big Joe and I speed-walked home to Bed-Stuy from the East Village, talking non-stop, taking turns pushing Little Joe asleep in his stroller. Now here it is, 2am and I'm still wide awake and zooming. And I was just mourning that it although I'd like to blog daily on both my blogs that there simply isn't the time and I don't have the energy. But this evening I've posted twice here and once on Bed-Stuy Banana. The verdict? Coffee is GREAT for blogging.

*What is Starbucks doing in Indonesia anyway? It makes as much sense as a Starbucks in France or Italy. If you live in a place where you already have excellent coffee why go to an American chain and pay a lot more for their brand of bitter coffee?

Gai See and Tea That Burns

2008-05-17T23:59:00.004-04:00

To my great delight, I discovered this book, Gai See, What You Can See In Chinatown by Roseanne Thong, illustrated by Yangsook Choi, at the library. Although I usually find rhyming children's books annoying, this one isn't, in fact it's a pleasure to read to my son who likes it so much he's been requesting it every night before he goes to bed. The illustrations too, are well done, complex and simple at the same time. The author is a white woman who is married to a Malaysian man and lives in Hong Kong, while the illustrator is Korean and lives in New York. It's a depiction of Asians and Chinatown that is intriguing and whimsical, without making us look comical or like cultural specimens from National Geographic.

I'm also reading Tea That Burns by Bruce Edward Hall. Although billed as a 'family memoir,' it's more about the fascinating history of New York's Chinatown. One interesting fact he covers is that when 'Chinatown' first evolved in the 1800's in the infamous Five Points area on the East side below Canal Street, there were only men who'd emigrated from China. These men, in need of female companionship ended up marrying and procreating with Irish women, who were as low down on the social totem pole as the Chinese. Which means that long term residents of Chinatown whose roots go way back to the beginning must have white blood running through their veins.

View From the Bridge

2008-05-15T23:56:00.004-04:00

A view of New York City's Chinatown from the Manhattan Bridge. Big Joe says that building with the red framed windows looks like it's from another country. But I think that with all this graffiti, Chinatown looks almost like another planet.

Identity Crisis

2008-05-13T23:25:00.006-04:00

My seventh birthday party, North Vancouver, Canada.

In the SoHo playground with our son today, I overheard a preteen mulatto girl ask a preteen Asian girl if she spoke Chinese. "Yes," she answered brightly, "I speak Chinese, Japanese and English." Impressive, I thought. And then I remembered Big Joe telling me that his brother's friend's white 7 year old son spoke Chinese fluently (his parents send him to a Chinese immersion school). Which started me thinking about how the world is changing. For awhile there was a huge rise in white people adopting 'unwanted' Chinese girls and I wondered what these girls would be like when they grew up. Would they be even more alienated from their background and roots than me? Or perhaps their liberal parents would overcompensate, attempting to educate them in every part of their culture that they may have missed out on. But is education/school immersion the same as actually living, breathing and being an integral part of that culture?

Now it seems we will have a generation of Chinese speaking adults who aren't even Asian. Who, perhaps, will have no interest in the Chinese culture beyond knowing the language for the business world. Much in the same way that Japanese businessmen learn English.

In some ways I feel like I'm part of a 'lost generation.' I am Asian, but is it mostly on the outside? I grew up in a culture where my friends/teachers/neighbours/role models were white. Our extended family lived far away in Holland and Indonesia and seemed as foreign to me as I appeared to my white friends. Beyond a few Indonesian paintings and spice packets what link do I have to my past? Especially when I wasted so many years rejecting it? I had a white boyfriend who once told me that I spoke 'whiter' than he did. What does it mean to be an Asian in North America anyway?

Let the Sun Shine In

2008-05-12T00:06:00.002-04:00

This is the most creative handling of a broken window I've ever seen. Just even out the edges, add a little red tape, et voila, a sun window!

Robo-Pong

2008-05-06T00:49:00.005-04:00

Your Personal Table Tennis Trainer!

Table tennis or ping pong is a popular sport in Indonesia. I, however, suck at it. How very un-Asian of me. But then I suck at most sports that entail hand-eye co-ordination. I was always picked last for any team sport in elementary school, and had to run extra laps around the school for coming in last at anything in P.E. To further encourage me, my Grade Six teacher told me I ran like a chicken. P.E. and Home Economics were the only classes I failed while in high school. Phys Ed. for skipping classes so many times, and Home Ec. because we had to make these gawdawful ugly quilted placemats that I absolutely refused to even attempt finishing. No wonder I ended up in art school.

Two China Policy

2008-05-03T00:45:00.006-04:00

Tibetan National Flag (above)
Flag of Ghana (below)

The connection of these two flags posted over the same building, is not obvious. Oddly, in my research I discovered a pronounced disconnection in the Ghana-China Friendship Association which proclaims:

In Tibet, the Government of the Tibet Autonomous Region on March 14th reported acts of violence linked to the "Dalai Lama" seeking separation of Tibet from China, a move also seen as underming the "One China Policy".

It is in this vein that the Ghana-China Friendship Association, in line with the position of the Ghana Government and the position of many other countries around the world, add our voices in support of the efforts of the People's Republic of China to protect and defend its "One China Policy" in the interest of the entire Chinese People and the world at large, based on the domestic and international Rule of Law.

We also would like to take this opportunity to condemn any organized violence causing heavy losses of life and property to the Tibetan people by the separatist forces. Any attempt to destabilize Tibet and split it from China through these violent acts undermines the sovereign status of the entire people of China and a medium to discredit the international image of China as she prepares to host the 2008 Olympic Games-A GAME FOR PEACE.
Our unflinching support for the "One China Policy" stems from the recognition of the fact that stability in China is vital to the stability in the international community considering the important role that China plays in the current global economic, social and political order.

We cannot and will never support activities of secessionist elements bent on splitting China under any name or by any means but uphold the noble ideal of ONE CHINA.

What exactly is 'noble' about the 'ideal' of 'one China' anyway? Being a supporter of both Tibet and the Dalai Lama, my sympathies go in the opposite direction. Perhaps the residents of this building feel the same way.