FamiLee Life

Unoriginal Journalism :: It's Not New

I am behind on blogging, so I am making up for it with random thoughts from the past week or so....

Ever read the writings of the Strib columnist Katherine Kersten? As the story goes, she was brought in by the newspaper bosses to bring "balance" to the supposedly liberal leaning Strib. I am not sure if the Strib is very liberal leaning or in need of balancing, but that is another story. Here is what I find interesting. Kersten seems to pride herself on strong conservative values and views. So people were shocked by her apparent "extending a hand across the divide" column on Dec 20th, calling for a truce on the culture war over Christmas in her article, titled "Culture wars over Christmas -- how about a cease-fire?"

What I find so amazing about this article by Katherine Kersten is that is is wholly unoriginal! Of course, many people have made such a call or pleading over the years, so this is not my problem with her article. What makes this case somewhat unique (to me) is that she wrote her article just a couple of weeks after Nicholoas Kristof wrote his psuedo-plea (really an attack), titled "A Modest Proposal for a Truce on Religion" in the New York Times on December 3rd! Hm...notice the similar headlines? Truce? Cease-fire? And she conveniently fails to mention his article, although she cites many of the same storylines. To her credit though, she takes a slightly more modest stance than Kristoff who is more obnoxious. For rebuttals to Kristof, check out Harris and Dawkins reponses at Edge.

Hm....imagine if journalists had to cite their references to opinions and ideas, just as we are expected to do in academia. It would not only keep them more honest, but it would help to better educate the readership and allow the readers to develop stronger critical thinking skills (rather than rely on the hot air of columnists alone). One advantage to the web (vs print) is that it gives readers the chance to search out these references and get a truly more balanced viewpoint. Of course, this approach requires more legwork on the readership which is why people subscribe to newspapers (and watch television news) to begin (i.e., to avoid legwork and the ease of convenience). Maybe something like NewsTrust is a compromise.

Believing and Then There is BELIEVING

I hope everyone has had a nice holiday season thus far. I went home to Connecticut for 4 days and spent lots of quality time with my family, particularly my brother K's family, as I was a guest in their home. My niece (soon to be 15) and nephews (13 and 10) are just adorable kids and I love spending time with them. As usual, Christmas was a big production at my brother's house. My brother and sister-in-law have always reveled in Christmas, as they have generous hearts, big purses, and childhood memories of growing up with less.

In addition to lots of gifts, they have really gone out of their way to impress upon their kids that Santa is real. That he is someone to believe in. That Santa delivers the goods to the good. To reinforce this belief, they wrap Santa's gifts in a different set of wrapping paper, use a different handwriting to sign the cards, and don't place any presents under the tree until after the kids are in bed on Christmas Eve. Plus, they put out the cookies, carrots, and milk for Santa and the reindeer. My job is to help with wrapping and to eat the carrots to look like reindeer nibbled on them (even tho' it would be quite absurd to imagine reindeer actually inside the house - oh well). In the end, it really is quite elaborate planning. And for a long time (and perhaps still for the youngest), their kids believed. As continuing proof, my youngest nephew asked just before going to bed that we needed to put out the milk, cookies, and carrots for Santa and reindeer. It was adorable.

Even as late as last year, there was some evidence to suggest my niece who was just shy of 14 years old still believed in Santa. Apparently, my brother overheard her talking with a friend X about another friend Y who didn't believe in Santa. My niece retorted to her friend X that clearly Santa exists because there is no way her parents would buy some of the things that arrive on Christmas day. I love that story! The power of childhood reasoning. For additional empirical evidence, read Professor Jaqueline Wooley's op-ed to the NYTimes about childhood reasoning about Santa. For a more humorous set of accounts, read Walter Kirn's story and Sandra Tsing-Loh's story.

Well, all this talk about Santa reminded me of my own childhood Christmas memory. I must have been 8 or so and I am not sure if I still believed in Santa. All I remember is that I caught my mom pulling out of the closet a big wrapped box that she dragged over to the Christmas tree. It was a huge present and it was marked for my brother M (not me!). I was crushed. What kind of present could my parents have gotten M but not me! Astutely sensing my worries, my mom reasurred me that it was a joke gift and it was actually a box full of rocks. I laughed out loud at the funny joke on my brother. I was pleased to be "in" on the joke. Then on Christmas morning as we opened gifts, my brother unwrapped the big box of rocks, except there were no rocks in it. Instead, he had gotten his first stereo system. He was elated and I was momentarily crushed. I felt deceived and envious. Then, it was my turn to open a present and I believe I got a race car track from Santa (or maybe it was my aunt) that Christmas. All was forgiven and my belief in the humanity of Christmas returned.

So this set of shared stories led to an interesting discussion with HW about when parents should tell their kids that Santa does not exist. I said that we should keep up the belief as long as possible. No doubt, my sister-in-law and brother quickly agreed on this point. HW said it depended on when and why the child asks. As a case in point, she shared the story of when her ex-partner's child asked if Santa existed when he was 5 years old. The separation and divorce of his parents was still relatively fresh. Being a little logical boy in need of certainty during uncertain times, he said that he wanted to do a test in which he would put out cookies and milk. He then made it clear to his dad and HW to not eat the cookies and to not drink the milk. If the cookies and milk remained untouched, then he would know that Santa did not exist. They struggled all night on what to do and, in the end, decided to let the boy learn the truth. On Christmas morning, he came downstairs and saw the cookies and milk still there. He knew then Santa did not exist. Of course, Christmas tradition carried forward as a time for family and sharing, but the mystique of Santa was no more.

Christmas is about believing and then there is BELIEVING. It's about learning to embrace the mystery of life, the mystery of goodness, the mystery of love. These things have no logical foundation, although we often try to create the illusion. In the end, it is just a belief in the unknown. We cannot predict the future with 100% certainty. There is no guarantee. Christmas represents a mystery birth. The birth of a baby is a reflection of the mystery of life itself. What or who gives us the breath of life? We can believe in Christmas as simply a noble day to be together as a family and to share love, but I would prefer to BELIEVE in Christmas as a day of the mystery of birth and life. To me, believing in Santa is a scaffolding experience toward learning to believe in the mystery of life. And so, I hope my kids someday will believe in Santa for as long as possible.

Even Lutherans Don't All Look the Same!

My good friend and A-number 1 basketball player, Wing Young Huie, has a new photography exhibit on display at the U of M's Immigration History Research Center. There is a nice MPR radio broadcast and article about the exhibit which was co-created by Allison Adrian (UMN student in ethnomusicology).

Spend the last few days before and after Christmas doing something different and exciting. Check out the exhibit!

The Voice of Adopted Korean Americans

[Left-Right] Jennifer Arndt-Johns, Deborah Johnson, Kim Park Nelson

It's almost a truism these days in journalism that stories about adopted children - whether young or old - center on the parents and the healing powers of family. There is no doubt that family matters. However, it's the qualities of a family that matter most. This is what is often missing in articles about international adoption. There is usually a lack of sincere depth to these complex adoption stories. Perhaps journalists know that readers just like simple "family first" stories that "feel good" even if they misinform or avoid the other aspects of real life.

In the latest issue of the Minnesota Monthly, under the very uncreative headline "Asian Fusion," there is a well written, thoughtful article on Korean adoption from the perspective of adopted children who are now adults. All the people who were interviewed are professional colleagues or friends of mine and they do a good job of speaking the truth from the perspective of the adoptee (not the parents). Kudos particularly to Jennifer, Kim, Deborah, Eleana, and Ji-in!

“Transnational adoption [also known as international adoption and inter-country adoption] sets up a paradox where we are raised in families that are European American, and that’s what we feel internally because that’s what we grew up with,” says Hollee McGinnis, who was adopted from Korea when she was 3 and is now the policy and operations director of the Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute in New York City. “But when we leave our homes or the communities that know us, people only interact with our physical race and put certain expectations on us. So we need to do a lot of work to reconcile our inner experiences as being, for example, Irish Catholic Hollee McGinnis, with what people expect when they see an Asian face.”

And for those who wonder what I tend to do during the day (besides blogging), the preceding quote from Hollee McGinnis parallels my journal article "The Transracial Adoption Paradox: History, Research, and Counseling Implications of Cultural Socialization." Unfortunately, due to copyright laws, I cannot put up the final published version on the blog. Email me directly at richlee at umn dot edu for a published copy of the paper.

Strange Couple of Weeks for Korean American Men

Hm, I don't really have much to say except to note the following observation over the last week or so....

1) James Kim died trying to find help for his stranded family in Oregon. Tragically, his wife and children were rescued shortly after he left them.
2) Jerry Cooke is still missing. He is one of the three climbers on Mt Hood who were stranded during a snowstorm. One of the climbers was found dead in a snow cave. Cooke and Brian Hall went out to find help for their injured climber who eventually died.
3) Yul Kwon won Survivor: Cook Islands.

Here are three very different Korean American men, three unique lives, three different outcomes. Mostly, it points to a distinctly different image of the Korean American man. Defying the model minority stereotype, these men show that courage, athleticism, strength, and smarts also define Korean Americans.

A Christmas Tree

Ever since I was a little kid, I always wanted a real tree for Christmas. Instead, like most families of the 70s generation, we had a fake tree every Christmas. Maybe we had a real one when I was really little but I can't recall that far back. Fake wasn't horrible and it was still fun to decorate the tree. Fortunately, we never had one of those all white ones. Yuck.

As an adult and as a homeowner, I can do what I want in my house. I know, not a big revelation but it there are moments when you suddenly realize the significance. My first year in the house, I bought a tree from a nearby lot, went to Target and bought lots of ornaments (as well as a tree stand), and excitedly decorated my 7 foot plus tree while listening to Christmas music. It was great. I even bought the fake candlestick lights to put in the windows to round out the decorations.

Here is the tree for this year. Not the best photograph (my digital is about to die - literally - I am making funeral arrangements). It's a balsam fir, 7 plus feet again. We spent the evening decorating it. What was great this year is we did it on the spur. Unintended. It just felt right, so we did it. One week plus a day till Christmas, so it's a bit late but who cares! It looks gorgeous, smells wonderful, and makes me feel at home.

Racism Rears Back! Another Minneapolis Example

Well, I really wanted to not talk about racism again but I feel compelled to shed this ugliness from my back once more. Why? Because I had another "Where are you from?" encounter last night while out celebrating a friend's birthday. So here is the play by play this time around.

Setting: Standing outside a local food/drink emporium enjoying the nice cool air of December and talking with my friend, KO. The door from said establishment opens and a middle aged White man steps outside. He is standing four feet from my friend and me on the sidewalk.

WG (interrupting our conversation, smiling): Where are you from?

KO and I glance at each other, as we simultaneously think to ourselves, "Uh oh, here we go again." I initially don't say anything. I let KO speak for a bit.

WG (asking again): Where are you from?
Me: Right here.
WG: No really. You two must be Chinese/Taiwanese.
Me: Really? What makes you say that?
WG: I've traveled through lots of Asia on business. Probably 90% of my work is in Asia.
Me: Well, you are wrong. I am from America. Just like you. Right here. I was born and raised in Connecticut.
WG: I'm not American. I was raised in France.
Me: Oh, so you are French with no French accent.
WG: Well, I was born in the US (ah, interesting how this fact was initially omitted) and then spent my childhood in Paris and then moved back home ove 20 years ago. So really, where are you from?
Me: If you must know, Connecticut. Born and raised there.
WG: No, you know, where are your parents from? They must have immigrated from somewhere in Asia.
Me: Nope, they too are from Connecticut. Why is it so hard to believe? Do you think I cannot be American because of my looks? Do I have an accent that makes you think I am not American?
WG: Yeah, you have a bit of an accent.
Me: Really, from where?
WG: It's a mix of Californian and Asian.
Me: Okay, now you are completely wrong. I already told you I was born and raised in Connecticut.
WG: You don't have a New England accent.
Me: Really? Have you lived in New England? I think I would know since I was born and raised there.
WG: No, you don't have a Northeast accent. I lived for a time in Syracuse and you don't have a New England accent.
Me: Uh, Syracuse is upstate New York and is not a part of New England.
WG: Listen, you are wrong. New York, New Jersey, Boston, there is a particular Irish accent there and you don't have it.
Me: Okay, you do realize that the English settled Boston and the Dutch settled New York.
WG: No you are wrong. The Irish settled Boston.
Me: What? Hello, Plymouth Rock? The Pilgrims?
WG: Okay, first it was the English but then the Irish.
Me: Look, I study immigration and the Irish did not come in mass migration to Boston till the 1800s.
WG: Wrong, 1796.

It literally continues in this ridiculous fashion for another 10 minutes. We proceed to talk about Asia and whether it is okay to ask this question in Asia. He says he is asked all the time when in Asia.

WG: The Chinese always ask where I am from.
Me: Being White in Asia carries cache and privilege. You are far less likely to be physically threatened and harmed in Asia than I am in the United States. Plus, you are not from Asia! On the other hand, I am American. Born and raised here even!
WG: You are wrong. I've been in China and it's the same as me asking you.
Me: In any Asian country in which there has been American occupation, there is tremendous White privilege at play.
WG: In China?
Me: Maybe it's different in mainland China which I doubt but it's most certainly true in Hong Kong.
WG: How is Hong Kong influenced by America? Hong Kong was ruled by the British! (said smuggly).
Me: It was a British colony but they too are White. Plus, don't you think the US supported the political presence of the British in Hong Kong?
WG: Okay, maybe, but...

His friend comes outside to witness this foolishness and is clearly embarrassed by his friend. WG can't remember what he is saying but refuses to believe he is contradicting himself, even though his poor friend sides with me on every instance when I correct WG.

Eventually, I sa I have enough and walk back inside to the food/drink emporium. I settle into a booth with my other friends. Shortly afterwards, KO walks in with the WG following behind him.

WG: Look, I want to explain something here. You are wrong...
Me (interrupting): No, you look. I told you I don't want to talk to you anymore.
WG: No, listen to me....
Me: No, you listen. Leave me alone. Now you are harrassing me. Leave me alone.
WG: I am not harrassing you. You listen to me (getting more belligerent).
Me: Yes, you are harrassing me. Stop harrassing me (raising my voice).

Finally WG leaves. I am angered, frustrated, and thankful I have my boys there to have my back.

Maybe WG had too much to drink but it is not excusable in the least. Whether a person is sober or not, it is still prejudice and racist. Not racist in an institutional way, obviously, but racist at the personal level. WG not only makes assumptions about my appearance and hence my nationality and citizenship but he also uses his White privilege to denigrate me in the process to demonstrate his false superiority.

Fortunately, I am not a violent fellow. My weapon is my words. Thankfully I have received an education that arms me with the defense of words. I wish I could teach such lessons to all immigrants upon arriving on these shores so they don't get beaten down by such ugly ignorance. Instead, I will have to settle for one by one...or bird by bird.

Squirrel Contraception :: That's Nice!

It's been over a year (knock on wood) since I had squirrel problems in my house. After hundreds of dollars spent on removing them from my attic (and subsequently removing bats and chipmunks too), I should just have gotten some contraception to control the squirrel population in my yard! Hm...I wonder if the same meds work on chipmunks which are basically smaller squirrels (just a smaller dose?).

Here is an actual news article from the UK on efforts to control the gray squirrel population which apparently is overrunning the indigenous red squirrel population. Others, however, believe in just killing them. To quote, "Mr Wales said his group had started killing grey squirrels in 23 priority forests in the south of Scotland by giving them a sharp blow to the head - "cranial dispatch"." OUCH! I guess the gray squirrels are pesky Americans too. "The greys are the more efficient eaters and spread a virulent squirrelpox virus to the reds. The virus does not harm the greys but is often fatal to the reds. This means that the greys, which were imported to the UK from the United States, are taking over the natural habitat of the reds and pushing them further back."

The best lines from this article, written by a comedian, are the following: "The American grey squirrel, like its GI counterparts, is over here, over-cute and over-sexed. It's overrun the native red variety, which has been pushed to the edges of Scotland, like ginger boys in a disco. Am I surprised ? No, frankly, I'm not. Just like everything American, grey squirrels are bigger, tougher and, most importantly, the male grey would appear to have a way with the laydeezz. Scottish reds tend to sit around mumbling about railway timetables and beer mat collections. The threat must be dealt with."

But My Closest Friend is Black!? Racism Redux

Over at Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast, there is a great post to follow up on my "How Racism Works" post. Read her post and then return to finish reading this one.

[Pause and patiently I wait...]

Okay, you are back! What would you do or say in this situation?

Some people of European descent might say, "Well, when I was traveling through Asia or Africa, strangers asked to touch my hair." However, I have to say that this is not a fair comparison example because (a) being White has cache and privilege all around the globe, so such objectification while inconsiderate does not have as negative an effect and (b) African Americans are not foreigners traveling through America. There should be nothing exotic about them!

Other people might say, "He was just trying to be friendly and, okay, maybe a bit ignorant." SITBB, however, makes us think about the larger socio-political landscape of such a question/request. First, if someone had a breast implant, would you ask this person if you could touch their breast? I love that line of query! Second, people should not be seen only as objects of fulfillment or curiosity. People of any race should not be seen as a museum exhibit like a stuffed cheetah or a dinosaur skeleton.

A small minority might be offended but still offer their child's hair to be touched. For them, I just say, I feel bad for that child to be treated and humiliated in this manner. The child may not realize it then but those sort of experiences accumulate over time. Imagine things people have said to you that make you feel different. Multiply it over a lifetime and tell me that it does not exact a psychological and social toll on you!

Other thoughts?

Weekend Update with Noraebang Immigrants

Last night was a busy night. It began with dressing up in a suit and tie (a rare occasion for this academic) to attend the annual banquet for the Korean Association of Minnesota at 6 pm. I was attending in order to promote the multimedia art and oral history exhibit, Still Present Pasts, which will be coming to the Twin Cities on April 14, 2007 at Intermedia Arts. The exhibit is sponsored by the University of Minnesota. By promoting the exhibit, it largely meant encouraging civic leaders of the Korean immigrant community (and some Korean War veterans) to consider financially supporting the exhibit. I am not sure what success I had in this fundraising effort but it was at least publicity. I was a bit bummed to have to leave early because they were going to have karaoke later in the night! Imagine a group of 60-70 year old Korean immigrants singing the Korean blues! Oh well, another time....

Afterwards, at 8:30 pm, I hit the road, trying to figure out if I had time to swing by the fundraiser for Earl Root which CC was helping to organize in downtown St Paul. However, looking at the time, I realized I would not be able to do any live karaoke with CC (i.e., sing with a live band!).

So, I hurried over to the Southern Theater to check out the second act of the Mu Daiko concert featuring Jodaiko. Wow, what an amazing show! Jodaiko is an all-women ensemble of the premier female taiko drummers in North America who play "power drumming" -- hitting hard, fast, and rhythmic. Amazing.

Then, after the show around 11 pm, we made our way for one more evening activity - a birthday party for Harlow's Monkey at the norabang near campus (I think it's called Boomtown Karaoke at 221 SE. Oak St.). Finally, karaoke! It was a good night. We had reserved the large room from 10-12 and I was expecting the usual gross room that this place was sadly known for under the old management of Kumok's. But to my surprise, it was much nicer! It turns out that there were new owners for the place and they had ripped up the nasty, stinky carpet, replaced the thrift store couches with comfy futon-style couches, and upgraded the karaoke system. After only being there for one hour (midnight), the owners asked us to leave. Huh? I was perplexed because usually you can just stay for as long as you want. However, after attempting to communicate in broken English, I switched over to my broken Korean to communicate. It turns out that another party had reserved the room from 12-2 am. So, I negotiated for us to get a slightly smaller room.

Anyway, having now spoken some Korean with the new owners, I decided to keep at it and struck up an interesting 30-45 minute conversation with them in broken Korean-English. I learned that the wife moved from Korea just 6 months ago, bought and renovated the noraebang, and now works there from 10 am to 2 or 4 am each day. During the day, she operates a hair salon on the premise and at night runs the noraebang. Overwhelmed with the work, her husband quit his job in Korea and moved to Minnesota a month ago to help out his wife. This couple speaks literally no English but are making a major go of it. I was amazed. They were clearly exhausted and said as much. They were working 18 hour days and were overwhelmed. It was frustrating to not speak English, to try to figure things out day by day, and somehow raise two high school-age children! I complemented them on their achievements and the renovations and kept them company.

That late Saturday (actually Sunday) night, in between their sleepiness, I could see the loneliness in their eyes and the yearnings for home escaping between each breath. And in that moment, I saw my parents. I was reminded of my own parents' efforts to achieve the American dream. I wish them the best in this adventure and encourage others to support them out! Get a haircut there and sing a tune while you wait!

Glory days....well they'll pass you by

It was twenty-one (maybe twenty-two) years ago when this photograph was snapped by a friend. I'm obviously in the middle, flanked by Pete (l) and Steve (r) in a very dramatic fake band pose. We all had gone to public school together and then briefly to catholic high school together (Steve transferred after the first year and I dropped out after the third year). If my memory serves correctly, this photo was taken in between those years. We had swung by a friend's house to hang out and to pick up some new hardcore punk music. Yep, this was my musical styling back in the mid-80s.

As you can see, I also had a flare for fashion too that (if I dare say) oddly mirrors the punk-mod rock stylings of Jeffrey Sebelia (winner of this year's Project Runway). On my Levi jean jacket's sleeve (and back) were about 150-200 safety pins that I had meticulously attached over weeks while working at a dry cleaners for my part-time, after school job. My sunglasses were clearly evoking the spirit of John Lennon who had died five or six years earlier (sidebar - his anniversary death was yesterday). The boots were Timberlands or maybe some local company knockoffs (Hermans). Ah, the glory days.

Today, Pete, Steve, and I are living all across the country (Pete in California, Steve in Connecticut, and me right here in Minnesota). Pete is living large in the corporate world, Steve owns a hair salon, and I am in academia. I have lost touch with Steve, but Pete and I (who were neighbors for most of childhood) are still in touch. In fact, his family was my second family. My "American" family, so to speak. His mom and dad even used to jokingly call me their third son because I was over their house so often. That is what happens when you are a latchkey child and the neighbor is a stay-at-home mom. I am quite thankful to Pete's family because they taught me a lot about the White, middle class way of life that has served me well many years later.

In a few short weeks, I will be going back home to visit my family for Christmas. After my mom passed away, we sold the family home and my dad moved down a few miles to be nearer to my brother. Pete's parents had sold their house a few years earlier and moved south, so Pete and I don't get a chance to see each other during holidays anymore. However, I do see a bunch of my other high school friends still, as we all tend to migrate home for the holidays. Our friend, Dave, has annually hosted a Christmas party that serves as a sort of reunion for all of us. It's always nice to catch up with old friends. We have all changed a lot since those days and I perhaps more than others. Still, it's good to reconnect with the past and move together into the present. Otherwise, the Boss was right - they will pass you by.

Eco-Wrappings for Christmas

Okay, enough about race and racism this week. Let's get more into the holiday spirit. Just a few weeks left before Christmas and I have done zero shopping. Well, I did buy a bit but nothing for my family yet. Thank goodness for online shopping!

Over at Lifehacker, I found a very cool Japanese way to wrap gifts for the holiday. Check out how to wrap with a furoshiki. There is a great website at the Japanese Ministry of the Environment (click here and here). Once I have my gifts in order, I think I will use furoshiki for wrapping!

Seeing and Responding to Racism :: Emergent Self-Reliance

It's been an interesting week of dialogue or set of commentaries about how racism works. It has led to questions about how to best respond to such prejudicial, discriminatory, or blatant racist comments. In psychology, it is very hard to understand perceptions of discrimination and racism and even harder to understand how to best cope or respond to discrimination and racism. In my work with graduate students, we have found that many college students of color tend to report less personal discrimination and more group discrimination. In other words, they acknowledge that it happens to others more than it happens to themselves. There are a few explanations for this discrepancy. One is that people may minimize personal experiences as a means to psychologically protect themselves. Another reason is that individual experiences are less frequent than the collective experience of a whole group. A third reason is that people vary in terms of their own awareness or understanding of racism and discrimination. In most instances, minorities who identify strongly with their ethnic or racial group are more attuned to such actions than those who are not.

In my own life, I have found that early in life, I tended to make alternate attributions when I experienced something overly racialized or downright racist, such as "Oh, he was trying to be friendly and just said it awkwardly" or "He didn't mean it" or "She misread what I did or said." Then, as I started to become more knowledgable about the history of race and racism, I was better able to make the attributions to racism. However, this can come at a high cost - emotionally, psychologically, socially. I have lost some friends when I called them on their prejudices. I have gotten more anxious and avoidant in other situations where I can feel racial threat (through snide comments, glares, etc). At some point, I felt the need to be more empowered to do something proactively and reactively. This development coincided with a greater security in who I was as a person.

In psychology, we are all about reducing phenomena to the smallest unit of observable measure. Once we can operationalize something, we can properly measure it. Using this measurement, we collect data and try to make sense of the data. What we are attempting to do is to understand, predict, and eventually learn to control. Understand, predict, and control. These are the three steps toward modifying human behavior. It may sounds reductionistic (and it is!), but just stop to think about how often we engage in this type of rational thinking in daily life. It's all the time! The key, however, is how to efficiently and effectively do so.

So, when it comes to responding to racism, it has required me to learn what is racism and how does it operate in daily life. It also has required me to identify instances of its occurance and to recognize its patterns and manifestations. Through these observations, I am better able to predict its consequences on me, on others, and in society. With this knowledge (is power!), I can set about trying to control the aspects of the situation under my domain. That is, I can work toward responding as effectively as needed for me. This process requires me to generate response ideas and coping strategies, rehearse them in my head, out loud, with my friends, and subsequently in action. Maybe in benign situations at first and later in more "live" scenarios such as what happened last week.

Over time, something amazing has happened in me. I have come more alive. I have felt freed of the chains of oppression (to be a bit melodramatic) and like a real man - autonomous, independent, respected. I am not as weighted down by the burden of race. Instead, I am more empowered. I can look myself in the mirror without hints of shame or disgust at not knowing how to respond or having done nothing about it. Such is the power of understanding, predicting, and controlling a situation to the best of my ability.

Ironically, what I am describing is a self-reliance that is revered in this country but seen as a threat by the majority when the minority develops it. Hopefully, we can find a balance in which all parties are allowed to be as self-reliant and independent as our democracy professes.

A Psychological Perspective on How Racism Works

My last entry on "How Racism Works" has generated some great conversation among viewers and I would like to encourage more. Check out this FAQ website sponsored by the American Psychological Association on Racism and Psychology.

I also happened to read a recent issue (vol 17, # 10, October of 2006) of Psychological Science: Research, Theory, and Application in Psychology and Related Science (phew, long title!). In a study titled, "They All Look the Same to Me (Unless They're Angry): From Out-Group Homogeneity to Out-Group Heterogeneity," Johua Ackerman and colleagues found the following (read abstract):

ABSTRACT—People often find it more difficult to distinguish ethnic out-group members compared with ethnic in-group members. A functional approach to social cognition suggests that this bias may be eliminated when out-group members display threatening facial expressions. In the present study, 192 White participants viewed Black and White faces displaying either neutral or angry expressions and later attempted to identify previously seen faces. Recognition accuracy for neutral faces showed the out-group homogeneity bias, but this bias was entirely eliminated for angry Black faces. Indeed, when participants' cognitive processing capacity was constrained, recognition accuracy was greater for angry Black faces than for angry White faces, demonstrating an out-group heterogeneity bias

So, maybe my anger at the WG from the other night will have a beneficial effect! Let's Be Angry! Lela Lee had it right with her Angry Little Asian Girls (now Angry Little Girls) comic strip.

How Racism Works :: A Minneapolis Example

It has been a week since the Michael Richards (Kramer) debacle at the Hollywood Laugh Factory and people seem to be thinly re-examining racism. Unfortunately, I don't think it has really hit middle America or at least Minnesota. Here is a hot off the press real life example of how racism works today in the Twin Cities.

On Saturday night, I was excited to see Mu Daiko perform their 10th annual concert at The Southern Theater. I know many of the drummers and was looking forward to hearing their songs, including a wonderful singing piece by Holly. I arrived a bit early and, after chatting with some friends in the foyer, made my way to my second row seat.

I notice a jacket is placed on my seat and there is a middle-aged White man standing beside it, talking with a White woman and an African American woman in the row behind. I assumed it was his coat, so I ask him, "Excuse me, is this your coat?" He says it is his coat and makes a bad joke about how he wondered if he was fortunate to have an empty seat next to him. At this point, he picks up his coat and I am about to sit down. Then, the White Guy (WG) says to me....

WG: Ah, finally someone Asian. I was wondering why there were no Japanese here tonight.
Me: Excuse me. Do you think we all look the same?
WG: Well, no. You're Japanese, right? I know you are not Korean and you don't look Hmong. Maybe Chinese.
Me: Oh, so you are saying you know my ethnicity better than I do?!
WG: Well, no. But I try to learn how to tell the difference between Asians.
Me: You should really stop talking before you put your foot deeper and deeper into your mouth.
WG: No, no, I'm not trying to be rude. I find that my Asian friends and people I meet like it when people like me can tell the difference.
Me: Really, your foot just went deeper into your mouth.
WG: I mean to be friendly. I mean, people appreciate it when I ask.
Me: I don't appreciate it.
WG: Okay, maybe I said it wrong. I meant...
Me (interrupting): Just stop.

At this point, I turn around and just sit in my seat. Like an idiot, he continues to talk to his friends about me, as if I miraculously cannot hear him. He says things like, "I have a lot of Korean friends and a few Hmong friends too. I can tell when someone is a Korean [note - he really said this!]. There are not a lot of Japanese in the country anymore. We have lots of Hmong....blah, blah, blah." I begin to think about moving seats or telling the ushers that there is a racist in the house. Then, he moves a step down, ready to move into our aisle to take his seat, when he stops on the step beside my aisle seat and continues.

WG: Can I ask then where are your parents from?
Me: Now you are saying that I am not American because I am Asian? That my parents can't be American citizens? How do you know they are not from America?
WG: Oh, no. They are probably as American as I am or my parents or grandparents. I have found my immigrant friends appreciate when I ask them where they are from.
Me: Well, I am not an immigrant and your question implies that I am not American.
WG: I mean...
Me: Just stop. Really, just stop. (from behind, I can hear the African American woman chuckling and I am hoping she is chuckling in solidarity with me and not at me - although she is his friend and has not stopped him)

Eventually but unfortunately for me, he sits down next to me. His oversized, overeating body crowding me into one half of my chair. He smells of too much eaten meat and stale beer breath. Lovely. Meanwhile, I think to myself what I might say next to him....like, "Why don't you ask your African American friend which part of Africa she is from because you probably can tell the difference." Just then, as Rick, Mu Daiko's director, is introducing the show, he leans over to me and continues.

WG: I want to apologize. You are probably a second or third generation, not an immigrant, so you feel it was rude.
Me: I don't feel it was rude. It was rude.
WG (raising his voice): Now wait a minute.

I go on to try to avoid him for the rest of the wonderful performance. He leans over a few times to ask stupid questions or make stupid comments about the performance. I ignore him until he finally stops.

Inside, I feel my heart beating faster. I am angry. My blood pressure rate rises. I am glad I don't have high blood pressure, but I probably will start to have it if this sort of crap persists. I try to calm myself. I tell myself that tonight is for the Mu performers and my job is to enjoy the show and support them. I do not want to draw any more attention to this idiot or get in a fight.

At intermission, I retreat up the stairs to where my posse of friends are sitting as a group - a mix of colors, Korean, Black, White, Filipino, Multiracial. I unload the story on them, needing to let out this bile from inside before it eats further into me. They are shocked. To relieve the tension, we start making jokes out of it. I contemplate getting up and moving to the back of the theater but don't want the Mu performers to notice my absence. I suck it up and go back to my seat.

*******************

As many of you know, I do research on discrimination against Asian Americans and its affect on mental health. Sometimes I wonder if my work is relevant or are there bigger issues to try to examine/resolve. Then, something like this happens and I realize that I must continue the work that I do. I also reflect on the fact that it would be far easier on my heart (literally) and my overall stress level if I had just ignored him or played ignorantly along with him on this stupid question/comment about being Japanese. But I think, honestly, in the end, I would rather die early of a racist stress-induced heart attack than let it go unaddressed. I have the privilege of education, knowledge, self-awareness, and all the rest to stand up for myself and others. If I/we don't say something, we perpetuate the mess of racism and let this sort of ignorance persist, spread, and lead to worse things.