On a Mongrel's New Year

I seem to have a new Chinese New Year tradition here in Portland - eating dinner alone and thinking about my lack of Chinese-ness.

Because the thing is, after all the ish I talk about being "Asian" and my Chinese roots and all that, I still don't have a single Chinese friend here in Portland. Seriously. In spite of my spoken-word odes to my Chinese ancestors, I only have my mom's generation left, and no Chinese family close enough to visit for dinner. Even though I'm on the planning committee for an Asian Youth Conference, I ate my noodles alone in a Chinese restaurant tonight.

I walked in the door, and the lady gave me a "Happy New Year," and it felt good. I sat down, and she came back to give me a fork (although all the rest of the place-settings were there: plate, teacup, napkin, and chopsticks), and that didn't feel so good. When she saw my red Chinese shirt (my mom got it for me when she returned my grandmother's ashes to China) under my jacket, she said, "Oh! You are celebrating the New Year! Thank you!" in the same way you would thank a little kid for trying to write you out a check with crayons on construction paper.

And, again, as with last year, I find myself quietly thinking about my Chinese-ness. How much I can claim - and how much I have no right to. Are my attempts to connect to aspects of Chinese traditions (our celebrations of Chinese New Year didn't go much past red envelopes and dinner with the grandparents when I was a kid) that I did not fully grow up with a matter of respect, or a bastardization and/or insult? I don't know. And each year I am faced with this same set of questions.

I ask myself why I don't have Chinese community or friends here. Certainly, Portland isn't the best place to find Chinese people (or any non-white people, in general), but that's not it because I have friends of other colors. So maybe it's that there are no Chinese folks where I work, which is a definite factor. Or that when I've tried to take part in what should be Chinese group activities, I've fallen short (I signed up for a Tai Chi class - my grandmother taught Tai Chi, and I wanted to honor her after she died - where I was the only Chinese-blooded participant, teacher included).*

But what I keep coming back to is the fact that I'm not really Chinese. Those Chinese "gangsta" youth I mentioned in my last post were calling me out as a "sell-out," remember ? I'm just a mongrel that doesn't look Chinese enough for people not to be confused when they see me wearing Chinese shirts. And that's what I'm always going to be.

And so I remind myself on this day that it's up to me to create my own traditions. I am the pooling together of many different cultures, and so there is nothing wrong in my personal "traditions" being as mixed and partial as the racial identifiers in my physical appearance. To me, Chinese New Year is as much about how I grew up and honoring my ancestors (which I do) as it is about figuring out what fits.

And so, for me, the CVT's Chinese New Year traditions look like this:

- I try to do some sort of house-cleaning (or self-cleaning) before the New Year for good luck and new beginnings (it's not the most thorough, though).
- The morning of, I wake up, go to my grandparents' (on both sides) little "altar" and bow three times to all four of them (they are all dead, now).
- I dress in as much red as possible (definitely wearing my red short-sleeve Chinese shirt), down to my red shoelaces.**
- I make a point of writing "Happy New Year!" (instead of "Happy Chinese New Year") on my board at school, so my kids ask me about it in every class, and I take some time to talk about it (which usually ends up with a short description of how I grew up, since, undoubtedly, a few are like "You're Chinese!?")
- I try to bring in some jellyfish and chicken's feet for the kids to try (chicken's feet because that's all my grandmother, aunts, and mother would eat when we went to Chinatown for dim sum; jellyfish because that was one of my favorites as a kid, and my students think it's so 'gross').
- I go by myself to the little Chinese restaurant near where I used to live (it's not the best, but it's hurting, financially, so I try to go there as frequently as I can) and eat some uncut noodles (for long life) and Chinese vegetables with rice, alone.
- I think about how this last year has gone, how far I've come, and where I need to get headed.
- And I spend serious time pondering my identity and all it means to me; and what I need to do to get a better grip on it.
- And, for the last two years, I've written a blog post about it.
- Finally, I'll light some red candles at night, bow to my grandparents some more, and enjoy flame-lit darkness.

Overall, I don't think it's such a bad set of traditions. I might add on a bit as I get older (I plan on going to live in China a while, maybe as soon as this coming Fall, so that should change my views a bit), but this is what works for me, right now. And that's all there is to it.

They say that what happens on the first day is a preview of the coming year, so if quiet reflection, good food, and some personal writing are what's in store for me, I won't complain. They also say that every dog has his day - and it's no different for this one. I may not do it up fully "Chinese," but that wouldn't be appropriate if I did, and so I'll just be content to do it up my own style during my Mongrel Chinese New Year.

And so I wish all my readers a Happy New Year (whenever yours began), and may you all have long lives, luck, and prosperity in the future.

And if any of y'all want to send me some hong bao full of cash, I'd have no problem adding that to my list of traditions above . . .


* Oddly enough, outside of Chinese restaurants, the most Asian folks (of any ethnicity) I've seen were at a b-boy battle I went to last Saturday night, but that's a conversation for another day.

** I made sure to explain the "good luck" of wearing red to my kids at school, since the majority are gang-affected.

*** And, just for clarity, I happen to be a monkey, not a dog, but the picture's about referencing my title . . .

On Being a Bridge

(I am currently working at a summer arts camp, so my posts will be coming infrequently - I'll be back at it for real in another three weeks)

With all the racial politics going around, Obama's speeches and analysis thereof, we've all heard it a million times now - that multi-racial folks like me (and Obama) are a "bridge between the races." We are a "step towards racial understanding." In another 50 years, everybody is going to look like us, and nobody is going to care about race. Some day, we'll all just be "a shade of brown."

Well, I just wanted to put my two cents in on this one, and I call bullsh**.

That's right. I'm not buying it for a second. But, as the polite blogger that I am, I shall tell you why I feel that way.

First of all, I don't really buy into the statistics. Over the course of the last couple decades, there has been an increase in population of people who identify as multiracial. A large increase. If you want specifics, it shouldn't be hard to find, but I'm feeling lazy, so we'll just leave it at that. My first issue with the numbers is the semantics - "people who identify as multiracial." That's well-put. Because it has only been recently that we have been able to even claim a multiracial background on most official documentation (and still - not all). Therefore, I think a large part of this increase in reportage is simply a reflection of the ability to choose anything other than monoracial.

Documentation aside, I think there is also more of a feeling these days that identifying as "mixed" is acceptable. We come from a history of one-drop and Jim Crow and - up until recently - people just had to go with their darkest blood. Any of us who were bi-racial white and anything else would have just claimed the non-white race not too long ago. Hell - I bet my parents would have claimed me as simply "Asian-American" when I was a child.

And it's still not fully acceptable for some folks to claim "mixed" or "biracial" as their racial category. In no community is this more clear than in the American black community. First off, it's largely because there may be zero "black" folks in the entire United States that aren't mixed to some degree or another. However, in no other community have I seen such a feeling of betrayal when a bi-racial person claims "mixed" over "black." This debate has raged all over the place, and - for now - I don't mean to discuss it,* but it still isn't "okay" to claim to be "mixed" in many communities.**

So I think the statistics are a bit iffy. I don't really believe that there's this huge increase in interracial coupling going on that's going to make us all be mixed by 2060. Sure, there's likely an increase - but I think it's hardly exaggerated.

However, even if the numbers are increasing at an incredible rate, I don't think that's necessarily going to do anything at all to change perceptions on race. Why? Because I know it won't.

I agree that being bi-racial increases my racial understanding and makes me have more of a compassionate perspective on both sides. It really does. But is anybody else willing to hear it? Hell no. Mono-racial people (white and otherwise) absolutely love to discount those experiences and that perspective. Mono-racial people don't want to listen. It is so difficult for them to understand the mixed experience that they do what all humans like to do with things they don't understand - ignore it. And that's what they do. And it works quite nicely.

We all saw everybody's reactions to Obama's speech that included his white side and black side. People on both sides called him a "traitor" and distrusted him. Everybody thought he was trying to "play both sides," and so everybody doubted him. When, really, Obama probably does understand both sides. But there are very few people out there (that aren't mixed, themselves) willing to accept that.

So what if people can learn to get over that, and finally come to grips that being mixed really is a distinct experience? Well, we just get one more racial category. Look at Brazil. People really are all shades down there, and there are classifications for all those shades. And, still, lighter is treated as better than darker skin. It's just a more variegated racial hierarchy - not an end to racism or prejudice. So why do people think it would be any different here in the States? It wouldn't be.

Human beings group each other. We want to know who is with "us" and who with "them." And that's not something that's ever going to change. If people are more varied in their skin-tones and physical features, we'll just get more discriminating in our categories. We're already ridiculously varied - but only the few are able to realize that, like wine connoisseurs able to distinguish subtleties that the average consumer cannot. If everybody becomes a regular wine-drinker (or is mixed), that will just increase people's abilities to distinguish based on subtler nuances. The separation will continue, just the same.

And so I tell you - I am not a bridge. I could be, to a certain extent, if people were willing to listen, but we all know that that is an unreasonable request. I shall do what I can - mostly just to keep myself sane - but I will not risk high expectations in that. This blog is an effort to reach people (and teach people) in some way, but I'll be content with two readers that get something from it. Because I've been "mixed" too long to think that many more are going to be willing to hear it.

* Don't worry - I certainly will.

** I don't know how many times people have argued with me about whether I'm "mixed" or "Asian-American." I just love it when people tell me my own experience.

On the Gray Area in Between

And so we continue to slug away at the identity of this particular mixed kid.* So we've knocked off the white side. Took care of the Chinese side. So that leaves us right here: somewhere in between. Somewhere hazy and non-concrete. Somewhere with no easily-attributable label. Somewhere that makes A LOT of people (generally mono-racial folks) uncomfortable.

For me, though? This is just the path I walk.

So what is this "gray area" all about? The first aspect of it is this strange situation where I find myself coming from two races - white and Chinese - without really being part of either of them. My life and experiences have not been truly either one. So that leaves confusion in its wake. At least to those that have never walked this path. It's the path of a permanent "other." The path of somebody who knows that there is nobody out there (racially, at least) waiting to claim him.

It gets lonely, sure. Hawaii has the largest population of mixed folks, at 24%. That's the largest population. So the best I could hope for in my life is to walk around and have one out of four people share my general physical appearance. To me, that actually seems like a ridiculously high number, but the fact that it feels that way is equally ridiculous.** And a bit sad.

I had a black friend who went on a trip to Senegal. When he came back, he was just beaming. Telling everybody about it, showing pictures, and urging all his friends of color to go visit a place where "everybody looks like them" because it was the best feeling imaginable. It's also a feeling I can't have.

So is the gray area just a place of self-pity and loneliness? Not at all.

No. Because walking the gray area of race has given me a perspective on race that other people can never have. I have seen race, smelled it, heard it, tasted it, and felt it from all angles. Primarily white and Asian, of course, but also - due to my ambiguous features - a bit of Native American, Latino, Pacific Islander. A few times, I even was thought to be (and treated as) part-black.

And that range of experience has led me to lay claim to a wider swathe of humanity. I think it's made it easier for me to actually listen to people. To connect with people of all different types, persuasions, and experiences. I don't get as caught up in one singular issue of oppression at the expense of all others - because I live in the gray area. In the gray area, it all affects me. In the gray area lie connections - and I sit here, following all these strings to see how everything is tied together.

Other people haven't been blessed with the opportunity to see it this way - and so I often see people of color who only know, and care about, the experience of their own race. They talk about fighting oppression, but what they mean is that they want to fight against oppression against THEM. Not everybody. They accept allies as long as the allies will fight the battles they choose for them. And they are closed to taking on their allies' battles, as well. It makes sense to me. I get it. But I just wish they could walk in the gray area for a minute to see why they should just cut that out. And if white people could walk in the gray area? Celebrate the end of white privilege and institutional racism.

And I have been lucky to walk in a gray area that includes two different nationalities and cultures. From childhood, I have known how to walk respectfully in two very different cultural worlds. I have had the opportunity to take the good from each and bring them together in myself. I have respect for my elders - and the wisdom experience has brought them. But I also do not fear to actively make my life happen. I understand what it is to be a foreigner - from two sides.

It is the gray area and my comfort with being of two cultures that made me get along so well living in Tanzania. It was so easy for me to figure out "how it is" there, and people were telling me that I had "become Tanzanian" long before I had to leave. That seemed like a result of immersion alone until I started opening my eyes to other expats in the country. Even those that were trying so hard (all white folks, but I think that was not necessarily a reflection of race - just who happened to go there) had hang-ups. Had struggles with concepts and cultural norms that they just "couldn't get."

The gray area helps me as a teacher. Again - it is easy for me to connect to people, to find a level of ground that we share, so my kids trust me. They don't consider me as taking any particular side. My racial "otherness" enables kids of every race to connect to me on that level, as well. And regarding middle schoolers, in general, my life of being an "outsider" to some level or other helps me easily understand their constant insecurity.

So is this gray area a universal place for mixed people? I doubt it. That's the other interesting thing about being mixed. Although there are plenty of shared experiences between myself and other bi-racial people, it ranges wide, depending on the races involved, our coloring and appearance, etc. And then there are the multi-racial folks who walk in an even broader gray area than we limited bi-racial 'tweeners.

Who else walks in the gray area? My answer will rely a bit on conjecture, but American immigrants are definitely here. I have bonded with many non-white immigrants over the bi-cultural experience and not fully identifying with either side (once they've been here for a while). My mom is very Americanized, and that has had her step a bit in the gray area. I would imagine homosexual folks (both genders) walk in the gray area at times - as they likely do not gain full acceptance (often) from people of their own race because of their choice of partners. American Jews also walk that gray area a bit - being accorded levels of white privilege, yet still being mindlessly stereotyped, hated, and left out of Christian America. I'm sure there are others (and I would like to hear stories of my readers' "gray areas"), but I'll leave it at that for now.***

So - I'm not truly alone here. In fact, in a way, walking the gray area expands my world to be more inclusive. And I kind of like that. It gives me a quiet confidence in the company of strangers. It enables me to walk in the world with my head held high. Because I know exactly where I stand:

Right here. In the gray area between racial understanding. I hope you all get to join me sometime.

* For some reason, I still tend to refer to myself as a "kid," even though I'm - what some have called - a "grown-ass man." That's probably some psychological fodder for some people to play with.

** When I spent a week in Honolulu last spring, I felt like I could relax and blend IN for the first time in years. I can't even begin to explain that feeling.

*** I know there's all sorts of you readers out there - but you're not commenting! Come on - join in the fun. Get your piece in and start a conversation. I'd love to hear some outside takes on all this.