FamiLee Life

Poverty and the New Hmong Refugees

Recent news reports indicate that 12.7% of the US population lives in poverty which for a family of four the official poverty threshold in 2004 was $19,157. This translates into 37 million people with nearly a third being children. Put another way, for every 10 people you might see on the street, one will be living in poverty.

Even more dramatic is the fact that the threshold for poverty is really high -- meaning you have to be really, really poor to be considered living in poverty. In reality, a much greater percentage of Americans can be considered working poor. For example, if a family of four has two working adults making $7/hour, they will take home $29,120 (pre-tax). Add childcare costs, rent, utilities, food, and other basic necessities and it is essentially living in poverty.

The Chicago Tribune (8/30/2005) reported that "The Midwest was the only region of the country to experience increases in both the poverty rate and in the number of people considered poor. The Midwestern poverty rate climbed from 10.7 percent to 11.6 percent last year while the number of poor people increased from 6.9 million to 7.5 million . The poverty rate remained unchanged in other regions."

One recent group of people who are contributing to this increase in poverty in the Midwest are the large influx of refugees from around the world who are settling in cities like Minneapolis/St. Paul, Milwaukee, and Chicago. For example, these poverty numbers got me thinking about the new Hmong refugees who have been arriving from the last refugee camp in Thailand since 2004. Approximately 4,000 have settled into Minnesota and it is expected to top at around 5,000 (excluding internal migration which likely will increase this final number).

As some of you may know, I have been working with colleagues and graduate students in collaboration with a variety of community-based organizations on the development and implementation of a mental health screening protocol for the new Hmong refugees. We also have attended various community meetings to hear about first hand accounts of the Hmong refugee communities adjustment.

I won't go into the details of the current project, but I want to share come of the challenges that these families face as they settle into their new lives in Minnesota.

Imagine a family of eight with no English skills, no formal education, limited employable job skills, a long history of trauma and neglect, and complete and absolute culture shock living on minimal welfare assistance that covers rent and provides some food. Moreover, they are pressued (thanks to welfare-to-work reforms) to find a job within months of arrival and start to lose assistance if they do not find a job or hold onto a job. Their sponsors to this country tend to be extended family who themselves may be living just above working poverty levels and do not necessarily have much resources to offer.

It is a desperate situation that I suspect most (if not all) of us would not want to be living in. In fact, if you are reading this blog, you clearly are affluent enough to not be in this situation, altho' perhaps your family was in a similar situation not long ago.

America is a land of wonderful oppportunities but there are clear barriers and restrictions that make mobility easier for some than others. The Hmong refugees are just one example. The poor, especially the working poor, become the invisible part of society that we (including I) do not want to think about day to day because it is just downright depressing.

I was given a book for my birthday, Random Family by Adrian Nicole LeBlanc, which is about growing up in poverty in the Bronx. I just started to read it but within the first 50 pages you can already feel the desperation and futility of trying to make it out. Survival skills are short-term because it's seems hopeless to think long-term when you are wondering how to feed, protect, and care for yourself and your children.

My current prayer is for the new Hmong refugees to find some hope in their current lives and to demonstrate the resilience that allowed them to survive and succeed living in Laos and Thailand. I know most will succeed despite the odds. It is an amazing thing about humans and about our country that so many will find their ways out. Hopefully, each generation succeeding the other. But I also am a realist to know that some will stay just above the margins and others will sink further.

It really does challenge those of us who are living privileged lives to ask what can we do to help. What is our civic responsibility in this matter? Is my research efforts enough?

Rock Star: INXS

I admit it...I'm a fan of Rock Star: INXS. I sort of fell into the show without hearing much hype about it. Then, I just started to watch it. And fatefully, tonight, I even voted for the first time for any reality show. For whom did I vote? Well...

I had to go with my local girl...Jordis Unga from St. Paul, MN. She's only 22 but she has this great bluesy voice and wonderful smile. Plus, you gotta give props to the Pacific Islander in her (dad is from Tonga).

Tonight, she rocked it with a soulful rendition of "Imagine" by John Lennon. She appeared a bit nervous at first but her voice was pure and she gained momentum as the song progressed. Strumming her guitar, she found her groove shortly into the song and took it away. It was beautiful.

Now, do I think she will win it? Unfortunately, I don't think she will because I suspect she's not the best fit for INXS. If she were on American Idol, she would win it all - hands down. But this reality show is about finding the best singer for INXS. That's a different story and we will have to wait to see what happens. I'm rooting for Jordis nevertheless.

Am I Adopted and Why Study Adoption?

People often ask me whether I am adopted because I happen to currently conduct research on international adoption, specifically Korean adoption. A related asked question is why do I study adoption?

Although I could just answer by saying "no" to the first question and move the conversation along in another direction, I usually take a few more minutes to explain why the study of Korean adoptees and their families is an overlooked but important aspect of Asian American psychology - which is my broader research interest. Sometimes, I even preempt such questioning by stating up front that I am not adopted but I believe in the totality of the Asian American experience, including immigrants, US-born, refugees, and adoptees. I also emphasize that as a non-adoptee I am not privy to understanding all the complexity of issues that confront adoptees and their families. However, as a Korean/Asian American psychologist, I am committed to fostering - as best I can - an inclusive understanding of what it means to be Asian American and, moreover, I feel it is important to give as much attention to adoptees as to any other Asian American population. Additionally, I realize that I am in a privileged position to advocate for the adoptee community whom many in the larger Asian American community choose to ignore or worse to denigrate.

There are many privileges that come from being born and raised within an immigrant family who have a collective memory of their roots. Growing up, I never questioned what it means to be Korean or if my parents loved me. As a child of immigrants, I also have not been challenged to confront, negotiate, and accept what it means to look racially different from my parents. These things were taken for granted and have come to serve as a core personal experience that is the bedrock of my identity. Yet for many adoptees, it is not so simple especially when these fundamentally existential questions are ignored, overlooked, or discounted within their adoptive families.

Over the last few years, I have come to understand the importance of studying Asian American migration, settlement, and adaptation as part of a larger global diaspora of Asians in America. A diaspora framework allows me to appreciate the within group diversity of Asian Americans much better than simply looking at acculturation/enculturation processes or ethnic identity development. It provides a historical lens that puts individual and group experiences into a better and more accurate cultural context. Toward this end, I have studied not only Korean adoptees, but also Koreans exiled in China and Hmong refugees resettled in Minnesota. Each of these ethnic groups has its unique migration history and adaptation process to their host country that is in some ways similar to others and yet wholy unlike any other.

Though some parents and adoptees may disagree with me or not want to perceive adoptees in this way, Korean adoptees can be construed as a diasporic community in that they were involuntarily displaced from their homeland via adoption and are not fully accepted into their host culture as manifest by assimilative pressures within the family and larger White society, pervasive prejudice and discrimination, and the societal stigma of adoption. Some adoptees, as they come of age, begin to feel a deep internal yearning for their ethnic and cultural roots and respond to their diasporic condition by seeking out a sense of ethnic belonging and place.

My research interest centers on the antecendents and subsequent psychological correlates of this diaspora experience. I am particularly interested in the cultural socialization experiences of transracial and transnational adoptees within their families and the extent to which these ethnic, racial, and cultural experiences facilitate the development of a positive ethnic and racial identity, promote mental health and well-being, and lead to the acquisition of coping strategies and skills to live competently in a racially diverse society.

In this regard, the study of Korean adoption is not much different than the study of immigrant families. That is, the fundamental question is understanding the ways in which Asian Americans live, feel and talk about being members of their ethnic group and experiencing acculturative stressors living in a predominantly White society.

So, when people ask my if I am adopted and why I study adoption, I typically pause and share with them (with you) these thoughts. I hope they make sense and present a reasonable and fair view of why I do what I do and what I do exactly.

Chuck Close and My Dad

Today, I plan to visit the Chuck Close exhibit at the Walker Art Center. I intended to go to the opening show back in July but never quite made it, which is fine because I don't care for large crowds of see and be seen folks anyway. I figure today is as good a day as any b/c it's also the first weekend of the MN State Fair which will keep away the crowds (hopefully).

I've seen Close's work at the Walker and elsewhere and am a great admirer of him and his work. I think in part because whenever I view his work, I momentarily think of my dad and his passion for art.

You see, for those who don't know, Chuck Close became a quadriplegic after a spinal artery collapse in 1988. However, he continued to find a way to paint, first using his teeth to hold a brush and now using a strap to hold the brush in his hand which has limited mobility. His work continues to astound the arts community.

My dad is not a quadriplegic but he did lose his left arm in a train accident when he was about 13 years old and living in what is now North Korea. As an amputee in war ravaged Korea, he didn't have much hope for success. Fortunately, he was a gifted artist and a man with persistence and ambition. Through various forces and graces, he was able to nurture his artistic talent as a teenager and young man. Eventually, it was his artistic talents that enabled him to get a work visa to move to America and work in the advertising field. Throughout his adult life, he has continued to paint, draw, invent, and build.

I grew up around art supplies: acrylic paints, colored pencils, drafting tables, charcoals, inks, oils, and lots of paper. My dad taught me how to create dimensions, shading, portraits, and perspective, while other dads may have taught their sons how to throw a baseball or fix a car. I also grew up watching my dad pass his free time expressing himself through his art. It was, I think, his way of relieving stress, living his dreams, and communicating with the world, including his children. My brothers both followed briefly in his footsteps, working in the advertising world, before following their own dreams/ambitions. I too dabbled in art, taking some courses in college but I never had it within me to pursue it any further. Instead, over time, I became more an art lover and supporter.

While art gave my dad many opportunities in life, I also know that it was not an easy life as an immigrant in this country. I saw how much he and my mom struggled to make ends meet. Their hard work and dedication to the family opened far more doors for us children. Of course, when my middle brother briefly thought of going to arts college, my dad was more than supportive and likely very proud behind his stoic facade. But like most parents, they wanted more for us.

As for my dad, he continued to paint intermittently throughout his adult life. After retiring from business, my mom had planned to have a gallery exhibit for him when he turned 70, surely fullfilling a childhood dream. Unfortunately, my mom passed away unexpectedly from cancer just a few months before the exhibit. My dad, who just months earlier was painting furiously in preparation for the exhibit, put down the paint brush.

Over the past 2 years, a lot has changed in our lives. He recently went back to South Korea for a vacation and had a chance to take a tour to a mountain resort in North Korea. It was literally the closest he had been to his homeland in over 50 years.

Then, in a recent phone conversation with him, I learned that he had started to paint again! I was so happy deep inside to learn that he had found the energy and hope and creative spirit to pick up the brush again. Actually, he told me that he was now painting with a knife, pasting oil and acrylic onto large canvases and pieces of wood, scenes of North Korea, inspired from his recent trip.

I know my mom is happy for my dad that he has found a new life, nearly 3 years after her death. It was art that saved my dad when he was a boy having just lost his arm and potentially his livelihood. And again, it was art that brought back my dad's spirit after my mom's passing.

Rainy Days, Solitude, and Loneliness

When Christ said: "I was hungry and you fed me," he didn't mean only the hunger for bread and for food; he also meant the hunger to be loved. Jesus himself experienced this loneliness. He came amongst his own and his own received him not, and it hurt him then and it has kept on hurting him. The same hunger, the same loneliness, the same having no one to be accepted by and to be loved and wanted by. Every human being in that case resembles Christ in his loneliness; and that is the hardest part, that's real hunger. - Mother Teresa

Awoke around 5 AM to the drumming and whistling sounds of rain and wind coming down in torrents. Being my neurotic self, I forced myself out of bed to close a window and to check to make sure there were no basement leaks (not really a problem but it happened once when my downspout detached). But I was glad it rained. My new jasmine plant (tree?), a gift from my great grad students, needed the nourishment and, more importantly, sometimes a rainy day helps reset one's mood and outlook.

On this rainy day, I elected to make my way to Anodyne (43rd/Nicollet), order a double americano, and take a day for myself.

It's been a busy, hectic summer even though on the surface it seems I have had a relatively deadline-free three months. So I am thankful for the occasional gray day when I have down time to reflect on life. These rainy days bring me back to my childhood when I used to set up an ensemble of tarps and umbrellas over a picnic table on our porch and nestle underneath the four wooden legs - my makeshift tent. Above me, I'd hear the soothing patter of rain and the warm summer smell of wet earth would surround me. Being an ADHD sorta kid (no such official diagnosis back then, so it's all retrospective self-diagnosis - thank you very much), I really enjoyed these encounters with nature. The monotony of constant rain gave me a chance to wind down, to focus my attention on the present, and to self-reflect.

Over the years, I have sort of idealized these rainy days and it's meaning seems to grow in proportion to how stressed I am in life.

As a graduate student, I had to find a topic of study and, given that there were no oppportunities to study Asian American mental health issues (due to a lack of mentorship and population), I elected to study this feeling of contentment that can come when one is alone - the solace of solitude, to know that even in aloneness we are connected to the world around us. Specifically, I chose to study essentially the converse of loneliness by focusing my research on social connectedness. My interest in social connectedness truly does stem from these childhood experiences alone on my porch, as well as my experiences as a lone Asian American kid in my neighborhood, school, town.

I turned to self psychology theory by Heinz Kohut, a neopsychoanalytic theorist, to frame this notion of connectedness. Kohut postulated that there are three core needs of the self that express themselves in thought, feelings, and actions. These needs (in lay terms) include a need for belonging, a need for admiration, and a need for protection -- all of which gradually transform into internalized feelings of connectedness, self-worth, and values/goals. The most fundamental of these needs is the need for belonging. When these needs go unmet, over time, people become vulnerable to these needs, yearning for them, and taking extreme actions to try to meet these needs. Sometimes these actions are to aggressively seek to satisfy the needs (classic narcissism) and other times these actions are to self-protect acting as if one does not want these needs (defensiveness).

In the case of social connectedness, appropriate support and validation throughout childhood and into adulthood eventually transforms into a self-reassured sense of self that allows a person to be comfortable alone or in relationships. When the right kinds of support and validation are not present, people grow up yearning for connection, struggling with loneliness, and uncertain how to participate competently in a social world.

Mother Teresa's quote captures this vicissitude of life, the yearning and hunger for connection. Although we come from families and have friendships around us, who really feeds us in the day to day of life? To what extent are we capable of feeding ourselves? To what extent can our relationship with others satisfy our needs?

As a child, I think I found such solace huddled underneath the picnic table. It was nature that nurtured me. I was only one person but I never felt alone. Around me was God's gift of nature and beside me was the presence of God's grace. Even though my mind often raced a thousand miles/second and had difficulty focusing on the task at hand, in these moments, I was able to somehow slow down in thought, in action, in feeling and attend to just the moment at hand. This sudden attentiveness was an amazing feeling.

And over the years, I have come to rely upon this memory of rainy days to refresh my outlook on life. And when it is a rainy day such as today, I reflect on my current life experiences that have shaped my enduring yet tenuous sense of connectedness and my intermittent struggles with loneliness. Rainy days almost always seem to comfort me and remind me of all that I have (past and present). It puts things back in perspective for me when I am feeling overwhelmed. A rainy day is my constant companion who reassures me. A deep gratitude for life settles inside me, perhaps God's gift to humanity when we humbly accept our fate.

Dogjudo Powerdate 101

Dogjudo Powerdate Video

I came across this video via my email subscription to Blu Dot's newsletter - a great modern furniture design company in Minneapolis. It is from a Virgin Mobile commercial in England. Not much to say but simply enjoy the humor. There are more dogjudo videos at the website listed at the end of the video.

Gatekeeping in Research

Today, I am reviewing 4 manuscripts that have been submitted to peer-review journals in psychology. This is a laborious process that will consume all of today and likely tomorrow. It requires a careful reading, a thoughtful critique, and then a delicate written review. I am certain I will recommend a revise/resubmit for some manuscripts and rejection for other manuscripts. Rarely do I find a manuscript that I recommend acceptance in the first round. This is the nature of peer-review and this gatekeeping plays a key role in the advancement of science. I know many researchers who may bitch and bemoan the process, but deep inside I think they agree with the process.

One of the duties/responsibilities of academicians is the gatekeeping of research aimed to be published in peer-reviewed journals. The intent is to monitor and screen the quality and integrity of research that is to become public knowledge. On the surface, this may seem unfair because it restricts freedom of speech for those whose scholarship is rejected. I can hear some people say that it is the arrogance of scholars to censor people with whom they may disagree. Yet, this type of peer-review is an important element to research. It prevents misinformation from becoming spread to the masses and it encourages better, more rigorous research.

It is hard when you recommend a manuscript to be rejected because it does not pass the muster of the given journal. Each journal has a set of different criteria and the acceptance rates across these journals may vary greatly. Among the top journals, acceptance rates are about 10-20%. Yet, it's a part of the job. What is harder is when you know the author/researcher based on the study questions, writing style, and other clues (e.g., self-references). Hardest is when the author in question is your friend!

I recently recommended that a manuscript be rejected and the action editor for the journal agreed with me. I knew the area of research well because I conduct very similar research. I also happened to figure out the identity of the author based on various clues in the manuscript. In many ways, the authors had an impressive data set and it could have been a great manuscript. So what went wrong? I think there were two fundamental problems. First, the authors had 2 chances to revise the manuscript and each time failed to address some fundamental flaws in the study. I was the third set of eyes to review the manuscript and unfortunately earlier reviews failed to pick up some methodological flaws to the study. Second, authors sometimes have a poor self-assessment of their study or their writing or their abilities. Reviews are meant to keep you on your toes and to get you to become a better researcher. Some people, however, get too defensive of their work and fail to see past this clouded judgement. It is unfortunate.

My own experience with submitting manuscripts is a roller coaster of emotions and thoughts. Fortunately, I have not had an unanticipated rejection in a while. Sometimes, I know my work may not have a great shot in a certain journal, but submit anyway for the learning experience and the off-chance it gets in. Other times, I submit to journals that I know my work fits nicely and I have figured out what the editors' like/don't like. In almost all cases, a manuscript decision is to revise and resubmit the manuscript. How you handle a revise and resubmit can vary. I encourage students and jr colleagues to sit with the reviews for a few days but to start proactively addressing the issues within a week or two. Some people get so despondent that they give up. This is the wrong thing to do. It is important to take a long view and gut it out. It also is important to take action right away. I once was told that most revise/resubmit actions lead to publication but many people give up when they receive such a decision. It is unfortunate. Here, persistence pays.

Well, best for me to get back to work on these reviews.

Korea's Bikini Beach

I love this photo which was featured in today's New York Times (see Bikini Beach). The article is about South Korea's attempt to lure cosmopolitan Seoulites to this western beach resort. Of course, the article suggests that the marketing ploy has largely failed so far because Koreans (despite their love affair with western globalization) retain certain cultural customs such as modesty and not liking to get a tan. I also love the juxtapositioning of the "ah-juma" (older Korean shopkeeper) and the hip/trendy image of the Korean woman model in the poster. It reflects the increasing disparities within this booming economy and country.

I've visited Korea twice in the last 4 years (summer of 2001 and winter of 2004) and before that it was back in the summer of 1991. My first visit was back in 1981 when it was under military rule. Boy, in these intervening years, much has changed in Korean society!

This image of the ah-juma and the bikini model really reflects the changes. I think of all the Korean transnationals, as well as Korean Americans (including adoptees) visiting their homeland and other foreign travelers (Americans, Europeans, even Japanese) and what influence this pattern of transnational migration is having on Korean culture. How will Korea manage these convergences of cultural forces, compounded by market economies.

Another big change is the collective embrace of the internet and its revolutionary presence on Korean society. I recently read about a Korean guy in his late 20s or early 30s who played over 50 hours of an online video game before succumbing to a heart attack. He set a world record for continuous play but obviously at a big cost. Can you image dying over a computer game! Insane. It's a twisted and extreme case of narcissism.

I really think Koreans need to read the Culture of Narcissism by Christopher Lasch which was written back in the 1970s about American culture. The current state of Korea echoes this past. In the book, Lasch draws upon neo-psychoanalytic theory to interpret the emptiness of modern man and our yearning for fulfillment through material possessions and grandiose activities. Our inner selves are hollow and seeking validation from external sources, unable to regulate our own needs and wants. In the absence of these external supports and the lack of intrapsychic resilience, people become narcissistically vulnerable to feelings of shame and rage. Rage often hides our feelings of inadequcy and shame.

I wonder if Korea is moving toward this cultural path that I think America is just now beginning to recover from (but never completely). Will we begin to see a rise in murder, abuse, eating disorders, plastic surgery, drug use, delinquency? I think it already is happening (definitely plastic surgery) but will it ever be tempered by the neo-confucian cultural values that have historically defined Korea?

Only time will tell.

Art Shanty Paintings

Are these great paintings or what? They are by Mike Hoyt, who is a multimedia artist and all around great guy. Mike was the creator of the norae shanty (karaoke ice house). If you are interested in purchasing one of them, visit his website at hapa9 to contact him.

Post-Conference Musings

I returned yesterday afternoon from the annual AAPA/APA convention and was dead tired. Boy, it was probably the most exhausted I've ever been after a conference - completely sleep deprived and needing a bit of a detox. Lots of interesting interactions, new revelations, and some fun times in the evenings. Most importantly, I always return home from the convention feeling thankful for the friends I have made through these professional organizations. It's strange because I actually see some of these colleagues more than I see my family in a given year. This network of support has truly been critical to my professional successes and my personal growth.

Some highlights from the trip include receiving an Early Career Award from the APA Minority Fellowship Program (a surprise award), spending time with my grad advisor (Steve Robbins) and realizing that our mentored relationship is now more of a peer relationship, having some good meals (Thai, Chinese) with friends, dancing and karaoke singing at APEX (a gay night club in Dupont Circle), wandering the streets of Adams Morgan and dancing/drinking at a club called Heaven and Hell, and meeting up with some old grad school classmates (Cheri, Emily, Kristin). It's a great re-charge before the semester begins again.

One thing that I did a bit different this year is that I decided to invite grad students (mine and my colleagues) to come out in the evenings with my friends. In the past, I have tried to avoid this sort of co-mingling but I had a change of heart this year. In part, I think it has to do with my now being tenured and no longer feeling it's so professionally awkward. I also have come to realize that it's a good way to socialize grad students and to show them that faculty are not so bland/boring - that we do have a life outside of research. Of course, it was important to respect relationships and boundaries and not go crazy. At the same time, I enjoyed seeing grad students having fun and allowing them to get to know me on a more personal level. I'm not sure if it's something that I will do at every conference because it depends largely on the types of grad students and the mood/preferences of myself and my colleagues.

I also found myself in a new position this year as someone whom others perceive as a more senior faculty member. I have been a faculty member for 8 years at 2 universities and I guess people have caught on (i.e., they now see me as someone with some insights to share). On two separate occasions, junior faculty members asked to speak one-on-one with me about life in academia. They each were struggling with their research programs and wanting to know how to best balance competing demands. They wanted me to critique their lines of research and offer constructive advice on how to take things to the next level. I suggested to both of them to focus their research more, to cut out some projects that won't give much of a return, and to protect their time more. I also shared my own academic and research struggles and what lessons I've learned.

Last, I spent lots of time with a dear friend/colleague who is relocating coast to coast to accomodate her husband's new academic career. It's a challenging thing to do and I respect her decision. She is fortunate to be able to take a leave of absence from her current academic position and to have grant funding to facilitate the transition. Nevertheless, she is starting all over in many ways. I really wish her the best with this difficult transition.

In talking with her, I realized or re-realized a lot of things about myself. We talked about professional ambitions and insecurities, balancing work-family demands, communication styles and conflict resolution approaches, and the way we adjust to life stressors. It was a humbling experience that helped to refresh my perspective on life, such as the importance of learning to not panic but to respond and not react, to not allow fear to overwhelm you or shut you down when in conflict, to recognizing your strengths and weaknesses in relationships, etc. I hope I can remember these brief moments of enlightenment and self-awareness.

The Art and Folly of Conferencing

Heading out to DC today for the annual double set of academic conferences - the first is the Asian American Psychological Association (AAPA) conference and the second is the American Psychological (APA) convention. The AAPA conference is a one-day low-key affair that is always held the day before the much larger APA convention. Truth be told (and it's no secret), these conferences are really about hanging out with your collegial buddies, drinking, staying out late, talking nonsense, and repeating it all over again the next day. Yet, the opportunity to do all of this stuff with colleagues is invaluable. I can honestly say that it has been an important part of my professionalization as a psychologist, researchers, and activist.

I first started to attend these conferences back in 1992 when I had just completed my first year of graduate school at VCU. It was a great experience as a grad student. Most importantly, perhaps, I finally had met other Asian American researchers (students and faculty) who were interested in the same sorts of ethnic minority issues as I was (e.g., ethnic identity formation, acculturation, discrimination). AAPA introduced me to so many important mentors and colleagues, many of whom I now consider dear friends. It was my academic family.

I should have expected it, but it's now been 13 years of conferencing and I am no longer the newbie, novice, youngster, student. Now, people actually look to me for leadership, career advice, research collaborations, etc. A part of me enjoys this new role/status but a part of me yearns for the anonymity that I had as a student. I still feel like I am learning, so it's hard to dispense anything definitive or authoritatively.

Mostly, at these conferences, you network - informally and formally. I've grown accustomed to this activity in all its forms...sometimes just going to the hotel bar, ordering a drink, watching a game, and chancing into conversation with another conference attendee. Other times, it's more formal like a mentorship luncheon or cocktail hour with senior colleagues. Most of the time, it is a mutual friend introducing person X to person Y. You can pretty quickly pick up whether or not the person is interested in you and your work (and vice versa).

Networking truly is an art that must be learned and nurtured. It does not come easy to most people, even those people who think they are good at it. Often, these people have a self-assessment of themselves that is askew. To what extent are you just yourself in conversation and to what extent do you have set questions to ask. I find that if you have to pull out set questions, it's doomed. There is either a natural connection or there is not and you should not force it. Maybe it's just wrong timing or context and sometimes it is just bad chemistry. Learning to let go is important in networking.

Of course, there are many hilarious moments at these conferences. Inevitably, someone makes a fool of themselves, knowingly or not. I once had a graduate student who embarrassed me in front of a senior colleague with his loud, drunken behavior. That required some talking to afterwards (he was apologetic). Usually, I find it much better to embrace such embarrassments and not let it bring you/others down. Otherwise, you just look like an ass and people will avoid you even more.

Sometimes, what looks ridiculous at first can bring you amazing fame or at least gets you noticed by people. One year, I was egged on by many others to sing karaoke and, having had a few drinks in me, I transformed into what my friend Ed now refers to as "Dr Tornado." That is, I took no prisoners with my gutteral rendition of the Righteous Bros (You've Lost that Loving Feelin'). Needless to say, I was known by all after that experience and amazingly people loved it. I think it loosened others up to be more themselves.

Then, there is always the one or two people that you just want to avoid at all costs at the conference but for whatever reason they glom onto you. They seem to be everywhere you go, in every conversation you are in, and vying for your attention around every corner. It is difficult to contend with this sort of adulation. Oh well, hopefully, I will be spared this year and (hopefully) I won't be the afflicter to another :)

So, in 2 hours, I am heading out to DC. May not be able to check back in over the next week but stayed tuned...

Tenure/Birthday Party

Here's a friend (Chris) belting out some KISS at my birthday/tenure summer celebration party. As you can see, he knows how to sing with style! It was pretty much like this all night. Karaoke was the big hit of the evening which started with bbq and beer/cocktails outside and gradually moved inside with the karaoke. The last stragglers left the house at 3:30 am. All in all, it was a great way to celebrate a birthday in your 30s...which got me thinking...

Younger folks say that the 20s are the best years of your life because you are enjoying the last years of college and starting out on your own...well, I have to disagree and say that the 30s are better. Here's why...

First, the times are a changing. It used to be that your 20s were when you struck out on your own and made a name for yourself. But today, people in their 20s are often still in school, living at home (or borrowing something from their parents from car to housing to cash), looking for work...in other words, they are still fairly dependent on others. When you hit your 30s, time has made you more independent. You tend to be more financially secure, have a stable job/career, and may even be helping care for your parents (or at least treating each other as more equals).

Second, the 20s are a time when you are still figuring out who you are and what you want out of life. Maybe it's because we've delayed careers and maybe it's because we live in a more complicated time where it takes longer. I don't know but it does seem like your 20s are a time of questioning the old you and finding the new you. By our 30s, you've figured most of those things out and you are tired of playing all those games.

Third, you know who your friends are when you hit your 30s and you understand that friends are not like family (i.e., you can choose with whom to be friends). Life becomes easier when you have a solid core of friends to support you, celebrate with you, comfort you...In your 20s, people come and go much more.

Well, anyway, I only bring this all up because I've truly enjoyed my 30s (much more than my 20s). Don't they even say that the 30s are the new 20s? Well, I have to agree.

To be fair, I've had my fair share of ups and downs. In fact, I've had higher ups and higher downs in my 30s but still it's okay. I simply think that I am capable of handling these challenges more easily, because I have more life experience to put it into perspective and I have more resources available to me.

I'm very thankful to have made it through life this far and in this way. The other night, I realized (once again) how fortunate I am to have such wonderful friends. I don't have family in Minnesota, so to have such friends means a lot. They made it a great night.

Then, the next morning (early, early at 6 AM), my brother (Martin) arrived from Olympia where he lives. He had to pick up his truck which was being repaired in Mpls after getting hit overnight while visiting me a few weeks ago (we never found out who hit his parked truck). It's a long story but unrelated to this blog.

I spent the next sleep deprived day with him, running errands, chilling out with my friends (Ken and Meeks) who came over for dinner...It was a real nice time to spend with him. We don't see each other often these days and are very different people. But over the last couple of years, I think we've grown more similar or something. In our 20s, we were such different people. I used to tell people that, in our 20s, I was the punk turned academic while he was the jock turned hippie. In our 30s, though, we are similar in more ways. We are both progressively liberal, both teachers (I'm a college professor and he's an elementary teacher), both divorced (boy, what does that say?), and both independent in our lives. Unlike my oldest brother (King), Martin and I have not lived in CT for over a decade or more. So, it was good to just get to know him again. I'm happy for him and how his life has turned out. That made it an even better weekend.

Okay, well, now I have to get ready for the APA Convention in Washington, DC. APA stands for the American Psychological Association and it's a gathering of over 10,000 psychologists. Beware DC!

Meaning of Home

Last night, I went to the spoken word show at the Loft that was a fundraiser for the APIA Spoken Word Summit in Boston. It's been a while since I last went to a spoken word show and I was pleased to see some of my friends perform, notably Ed "The Korean Dream" Bok Lee, Sun Yung Shin, and Bao Phi.

The theme of the show was the meaning of home/homeland in a climate of war and terrorism. It got me thinking about what is home to me.

The first thing to come to my mind is whether I consider Minneapolis/Minnesota my home. I've lived in Minneapolis for 5 years now and it's the longest I've lived in one place as an adult (since I left home for college 19 years ago!). But do I consider Minneapolis my home? Interestingly, I consider Mpls (the city) more of my home than Minnesota (the state). Day by day, I do consider Mpls my home but I think home is more of a layered experience. Not like the onion analogy in which there is a core (e.g., birthplace) and each new location (MA, VA, CA, TX, MN) is layered over the core. No, I think home is a permeable set of layers in which places, locations, cultures move closer or farther away from the core. Minneapolis as home definitely is moving closer to the core with each passing year, but it is because my friendships are deepening, my community involvement increasing, my duties/responsibilities expanding.

Some of the poets last night spoke about home in terms of friendships and cultural ties. I understand their viewpoint, yet I think these relational experiences are more manifestations of my sense of home/place. Home/place is clearly more subjective than objective...more emotional than factual. It's filled with your yearnings and dreams, fears and sorrows, contentment and joy. Home/place is reconstructed memories of the past pulled into the present and stretching into the future and present day experiences reshaping the way we think of the past and clouding our visions of tomorrow.

Sometimes, what is home today will not be a part of your home tomorrow. This is the permeability of it. Home can be like a piece of shrapnel embedded within the flesh. Each experience in life is shrapnel. Some shrapnel gradually make their way out of the body, while others become encapsulated by your muscles and ligaments and sink deep within your body.

When I was in college, I read Carlos Bulosan's America is in the Heart. That book had a profound effect on my identity as an individual, a Korean American, an Asian American. I had that unsettled existence most adolescents and young adults go through but compounded by ethnicity, race, and culture. For me, back then, home was transient - a moving freight train with me running along side the tracks trying to jump on like a hobo in an old Charlie Chaplin movie. When I read America is in the Heart, I realized that I didn't have to chase after my sense of place, belonging, connection, home. I needed to look within and accept what was within me - the good, the bad, the ugly. I had agency over my life. I could not let the outside world completely define me and completely determine where I belong.

Of course, this transformation did not happen over night. It has taken years and the transformation is still occurring.

Today, when I think of home, I think family, friends, work, community, my house and my neighborhood. Mostly, though, it's the degree of content in my life. To me, I know I am home when I am content.

Crash

It took me a while to see it, but I finally saw the movie Crash last night with my friend, Julayne, who is visiting Mpls from Seoul, SK. It was an unplanned movie night that began with a juicy lucy burger at Matt's (35th St/Cedar Ave) and us just happening to drive by the Lagoon theater in Uptown. We lucked into a close parking spot and made the movie just before the funny Stella Artois short movie (basically a long commercial which I usually hate but this one was entertaining).

My initial impression of Crash is that I liked it and it validated my experiences as a minority. But then after a few moments passed, I was somewhat unsatisfied (tho' not dissatisfied). It was refreshing to see racial politics openly displayed from all perspectives. At the same time, the characters were meant to portray the complexities of racial politics but they nevertheless were caricatures in many ways.

Each main character is seen as both the victim and the perpetrator of racism. But in this way, it excuses the racism by Whites by putting it in the context of their feeling misunderstood, frustrated, fearful. It also puts some unnecessary blame on the minority characters by showing them as too selfish, too unacculturated, too angry.

Okay, I appreciated the turnaround of Matt Dillon's character but is it so necessary to always redeem the White man? Why can't they make a movie in which the White characters are just left as is -- often like in life?

Still, the movie made you think and left you wanting to talk about racial politics upon leaving the theater. For this reason, it's a worthwhile film. I likely will one day show it in my class to start an open dialogue.

Spoken Word Show

Here is a great event and fundraiser to attend this week. Check it out and let me know what you think.

HOMELAND INSECURITIES: Minnesota Asian American Writers on Place, Race and Personal History

Thursday, August 11, 7 p.m. $5 - $10 sliding scale/suggested donation
At the Loft, 1011 Washington Avenue South, Minneapolis

Co-hosted by Bao Phi and Julayne Eun Jin Lee
Fine art by Chamindika Wanduragala
Music by DJ Thuyet Nguyen
Featuring performances by Mooks, David Mura, Shoua Lee, Sun Yung Shin, Tou Saiko Lee, Katie Leo, Ed Bok Lee, Bao Phi and others TBA
Virtual chapbook will be on sale for $5, all proceeds will go to the Summit

As the Asian American population in the United States grows into the 21st century, so to will awareness of their unique position in society as neither Black nor White, Native nor "Founding" Father, "All-American" nor foreigner.

HOMELAND INSECURITIES: Asian American Writers on Place, Race and Personal History brings together Asian American writers from the Twin Cities for an evening of shared work and on-going dialogue around the evolving notions of Home, History, and Future.

Co-hosted by Bao Phi and Julayne Lee, this literary event and fundraiser will include single pieces from local Asian American writers and performers responding to the concepts of "Home" or "Homeland". In addition, a new, collaborative performance piece (work-in-progress) on the concept of "Home/land" will be presented by author/performance artist David Mura and poet/playwright/spoken word artist Ed Bok Lee.

All proceeds to be donated in equal part to the 2005 National Asian Pacific Islander American Spoken Word and Poetry Summit to be held this year in Boston, MA (August 18 – 21) and local, Minnesota-based Spoken Word artists who have not yet had an opportunity to attend the biennial conference.

Karaoke and Art

You may be wondering about the below photo of me holding the microphone...why, yes, I am indeed karaoke singing. This shot happens to be taken at the Art Shanty Project exhibit at Soap Factory. I encourage folks to visit before the show ends on August 21st. Come by on Friday from 5-8 to sing in the shanty. I will be there with my friends.

The Norae Shanty (Singing House) was designed and built by my good friend, Mike Hoyt, with help from friends. It's a great juxtapositioning of private space experiences (ice fishing and karaoke singing-korean style in private rooms). People really open up in this space and creative singing juices flow. There also are other great exhibits there too, including other shanties and photographs.

Where are you from?

Okay, a bit about me. I am an Associate Professor of Psychology at the University of Minnesota. I've been here since 2000 and recently was promoted with tenure (starting in Fall 2005). It's pretty crazy to think that I am a professor, let alone a tenured one, but I've had a fortunate albeit bumpy life...so, where am I from?

"Where are you from?" Boy, I really HATE that question but it seems to be the question of the month in Minneapolis for my friends and me. Am I a forever foreigner to your White eyes?

Well, truth be told, I was born and raised in a dinky town in the heart of Connecticut - what is now a second ring suburb of Hartford. My parents and oldest brother immigrated from South Korea in the mid-1960s and my middle brother and I were born stateside. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been for them to come to a new country without knowing the language or culture, but somehow they made it...pretty amazing like many immigrant stories.

Went to public school for elementary and middle school and to Catholic parochial high school till the end of my junior year. At that point in time, I was junior class president, captain of the wrestling team, top 20 in the class, dating a varsity cheerleader...I was "all-American" in many ways. Then...it hit and it hit hard. Like Steve Martin in The Jerk, I came to a blunt realization that I was not White! My experiment at assimilation had failed and I began to rebel through hardcore punk rock. Once I found punk, let's say I sorta found my soul. This obviously does not go well with the nuns and priests, so despite all my successes, I was kicked out of school at the end of my junior year. To be exact, the associate principal asked me to not return (or to look for elsewhere, I forget the exact wording).

Thank God for Simon's Rock College of Bard...an early college for kids just like me (no high school diploma and too young to apply to other colleges). It was a saving grace at 16 and I forever owe them. I went off to college a year early and never looked back. After a year at SR (which was quite possibly the hardest academic year of my educational life), I transferred to Boston College where I was graduated with a dual major in psychology and philosophy. Why these two majors? Well, I really admired my high school guidance counselor (Mr. Duffy) who also happened to be my humanities/philosophy teacher and I thought maybe that is something I could do.

At some point in college though, I realized being a guidance counselor is not all it's cracked up to be. Fortunately, I had some great college professors and that got me thinking about the ivory tower. After college, not really wanting to grow up (I was only 20!), I lucked into a research job at Brigham and Woman's Hospital conducting sleep research. It was a great year and helped me get into grad school at Virginia Commonwealth University where I pursued my Ph.D. in psychology with a specialty in counseling psychology.

To finish up this story quicker than I started, I hurried through graduate school in 5 years, including a pre-doctoral internship at University of California at Davis. I stayed on as a post-doc fellow at Davis for another year and then accepted my first teaching gig at the University of Texas at Austin in the Dept of Educational Psychology. At Texas, I went through a steep acculturative learning curve figuring out the life of a professor. Along the way, I helped to establish the Asian American Studies Program at UT with other faculty and students. After 3 years at Texas (which truly is a school full of good ole White boys), I bolted for Minnesota Psychology - the fabled land of dustbowl empiricism and the study of individual differences.

Welcome

Thanks for visiting my blog. It happens to be my birthday today and how did I decide to celebrate? I got this blog up and running! Well, actually, I just happened to come upon this medium by chance today (thanks to a colleague's recent blog rant about Texas vs. Minnesota). After reading his blog, I thought a bit and realized that this would be a great way to let folks know a bit about me and my work. So, with that welcoming intro, I hope you find FamiLee entertaining and informative.

-Rich