The marginalization of Asian American women's experience in the public discourse

During our class discussion on stereotypes about Asian Americans last week, we talked about the concept of "model minority" and how it contributes to the stereotyping of Asian Americans as being "apolitical." Not only that the voice of the Asian community is seldom represented in the major public debate, but whenever there emerges a controversy regarding Asian Americans, it is about cultural differences in parenting style (such as the "Tiger Mother" debate) or about fashion, acting and the construction of beauty ideal (as it appears on the top Google search results). I remembered following the past midterm election and was struck by the fact that only the state of Hawaii had Asian Amercian candidates. In formal politics arena, Asian American women's voice is even further diminuated as out of the 12 Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders currently serving in the 112th Congress, only three are women.

I also noticed that in the arena of feminist movement and women's studies, a parallel could be drawn in that the issue concerning Asian American women seldom makes onto the syllabus. From the Intro to Women's Studies to Junior Feminist Theory Seminar, I have read plenty of writings on Third World feminism, but the readings mostly covered Chicana feminism and African American feminist thoughts. Asian American women's writings had been sporadically inserted into the syllabus here and there, as if merely to complement the diversity spectrum. Before taking this ASAM course, and because of these impressions I got from the mainstream discourse, I used to hold that perhaps the reason why Asian American women's writings weren't on the syllabus could be explained away by the "fact" that there simply aren't many literatures available. However, I came to realize that such conception is totally wrong.

Now that I have learned about the politics and history of Asian American women, through literature, class readings and documentary films, among other mediums, I start to see the above-mentioned instances as the structured consequences of the construction of the "model minority" image, which constrained the public knowledge on the participation and representation of Asian American women's community. As we mentioned in the class, while it's true that stereotypes may only be canged when the dominant society no longer need such stereotypes, people can still implement changes by breaking the controlling images and change the social context under which current stereotypes have been propelled.

Losing a Language

May said something during today's reflections on the documentary film that resonated with me after class ended.

I too lost the ability to speak my family's native tongue at an early age, but I have never really thought about it in terms of being an Asian American and what it might mean. One of the many languages my parents speak, Kannada, was my first language. My first words were Kannada, but by the time I had finished kindergarten I had completely lost the ability to speak Kannada and was only speaking in and responding to English. Even though today I completley understand the language when heard, I cannot correctly put sentences together myself. My brother, on the other hand, cannot understand anything my parents say when spoken to in Kannada. The language is competley lost with him, and he shows no signs of wanting to learn in the hopes of passing it on to the next generation of our family. It's interesting to think that if I make no effort now, Kannada may be lost with my generation (in the family).

Today's documentary seemed to portray the protagonists loss of language as a sign of her adoptive family (which could be seen as a metaphor for American culture and structure) stripping away her culture. I think supression of her original culture was what led to her lifelong search for an identity. But thinking about the loss of a language in terms of my family, it seems as if my parents stripped away part of our identity as well. And left us with quite the burden. Because my parents never enforced Kannada on me when I began to lose it, I have lost a piece of my identity. I am not able to converse with my grandma who lives in India. I have become more American. Because my parents did not speak fluent Kannada to my brother (due to the loss of the language they watched me experience), he has lost that whole identity.

Currently I have found myself questioning how the loss of this language will affect my future identity and the identity of my future family. If I am never able to speak fluent Kannada, does that mean my children will not? Won't that make them even more American than me? Has my parent's choice to not enforce Kannada left me with the decision of whether or not the language continues on in the family? I can't help but feel that I may be changing the identity of our family from Asian American to American Asian.

Yes, my parents coming to this country makes us Asian Americans. But soon, will anyone even be able tell that that was the case?

From One Korean Transracial Adoptee to Another

Dear Deann,

Although we are from different eras, different geographical regions and have vastly different experiences in many respects, I feel like I know you in a way that I don't know many other people. As you mentioned, it's a difficult thing, to look into Caucasian eyes, reaching out to touch white skin and equating family, love, respect and even normal. It's also difficult to return to a place that was once your home, wanting it to be your home, frozen by the whispers of dietetic memory and the constant identity that you embody, yet you will never fully understand.

While my parents encouraged me to learn about Korea, even attending Korean lessons with me for a large portion of my childhood, I still feel a disjuncture. I can't speak to my parents about the duality of my identity because it's something they cannot grasp. I can't speak to other adoptees about my experience because the adoptee's experience is so varied. I am truly an singualar product for whom identity is a constant quandary.

Today I watched you as you searched for meaning within your two families. I watched as your American parents showed the same dedication to their child as mine did. I watched as you grew up as an undoubtedly American young woman. And I watched as you found your biological family. I am at that final crossroads now. A young man with an ambiguous past that constant knocks, passing unexplainable knowledge from the unknown to my body. Now I look to the future.

My experience and my consciousness tells me I don't need the reunion you had. I don't need to meet my mother, my father or any other family I may not know about. I'm uncomfortable with that reality. However, when I saw your mother's face as she held her long lost flesh and blood in her arms again, I hesitated. And when I saw the spark in your eye when you perhaps realized where you got your eyes, I hesitated further.

This is the third time I have seen your film and this is also the third time in my life I have seriously thought about my birth family. I'm not sure what to make of it yet, but I know it's undoubtedly important and much bigger than just me.


Thank You,

Galen

Stereotypes and First Person Plural

Last Wednesday at Frank Dining Hall, a panel composing of two professors, Professor Seung Hye Suh and Professor Sharon Goto, and the director of the AARC, Sefa Aina, used Amy Chua’s article, “Why Chinese Mother’s Are Superior” as a catalyst for a discussion regarding “Asian parenting”. During the talk, Professor Goto brought up a psychology related point of sociability versus competence. Sociability, or the inclination of being sociable, is normally seen as a support related trait involving qualities such as trustworthiness, morality, and helpfulness. On the other hand, competence can be considered a status-related trait, which can involve, but is not limited to, qualities such as intellect, ability, and respectability. Professor Goto stated that these two things are believed to be inversely related, that is, the greater a person’s sociability skills, the lesser their competence, and vice versa. If this inverse relationship is true, then it can be assumed that one would need to give up activities such as play dates or sports in favor of studying or practicing the violin as Chua said she had her daughters do.

After hearing that sports were considered more of a social activity and not to be seen as something that would make a person as competent in society as playing the violin would, I became a bit upset and began wondering why sports are seen in this way, and thus have less Asian participation compared to Westerners. To begin answering this question, I considered the fact that stereotypes arise from some sort of ideological function in society. So, what catalyzed the idea that are sports are mainly a social activity, and what do Asian have to gain by engaging less in this area?

To answer the second half of the question for myself, I concluded that people may engage less in sports because, as a socially labeled activity, this implies that sports would fulfill ones wants for fun and being in the company of others. This is not exactly what comes to mind when one thinks of professional jobs or economical success. So by thinking that sports are just “for fun”, one may devote more time to things such as education which has been shown to be a great factor in professional success. One reason for why sports are even seen as a social activity in the first place may come from the stereotyping of athletes, or more specifically, jocks. Jocks tend to be stereotyped as big, loud, not-very-bright white males who like to party and hook up with girls every weekend. This image is quite different from the image of how most people who value education would like to be viewed and screams incompetence in society. I currently cannot think of additional reasons at this moment, thoughts?

I also would like to comment on the film was saw in class today, First Person Plural, by Deann Borshay. Something I enjoyed from the film was how they took the time to film Ok Jin’s Korean family and hear their stories about her adoption and their reunion with each other. Most of the perspectives in our readings have involved the immigrant herself, her daughters, and/or an analysis from an outside, interested party. Because our readings rarely speak of families across the Pacific, it was refreshing to see an example of an interaction between the women we read about and their initial family. Going off on a tangent, I was also wondering if many of the adopted children around Ok Jin’s age when she arrived in America experienced memory loss and then recovery as she did?

Identity and Sterotype

According to Margaret Chung, one of the most controversial issues in the Asian American women studies is known to be the gender queer identity. In addition, cross-dressing or adoption of a masculine name can be viewed as attempts to assimilate. However, it is rather the one-sided stereotype, indeed.

Thus, there are the differences between the ‘breaking’ gender stereotype and ‘crossing’ gender stereotypes. However, both of them were challenged by Margaret Chung. She managed to challenge and cross the above mentioned gender stereotypes, for instance, by means of opting to enter the male profession of surgeons or by choosing for a female to be presented in a masculine dress, in spite of the obvious social pressures and even bans of doing so.

I believe any stereotype can be dissolved. Since all stereotypes reside in the collective consciousness of a particular community and are perpetuated through their repetition, any stereotype breaking must happen on a mass scale even though some of them are set historically. For example, some beliefs in the ability of females to master certain masculine types of occupations have been largely challenged in the popular American consciousness.

Anyway, it is historically occurred and influences even the modern gender perception that the stereotypes cannot be broken and blemish on the collective consciousness. To overcome them, it will take much time. I believe that breaking the stereotypes is more effective on the level of individual’s consciousness rather than on the collective. It is the point of each independent person whether consider Asian American style of wearing clothes to be acceptable or not, masculine name, profession, behavior, lifestyle to be socially wrong or right, etc.

Multiculturalism - Korean Military Brides and Korean Adoptees

When doing last nights reading, I found I had a larger reaction to the essay titled, Imagined Community: Sisterhood and Resistance Among Korean Military Brides in America 1950 - 1996 by Ji-Yeon Yuh. Yuh emphasizes that one of the major struggles of military brides is becoming American while retaining their Korean identities. She talks about how the military brides kept their identities despite the American values that were forced upon them and the rejection they faced from many Koreans because of their status by forming their own communities and networks, filling them with people who share that similar experience. Although I understand the ideas Yuh presents, and it sounds like she emphasizes that these women fought against society's expectation in American and Korea and therefore the importance of embracing multiculturalism. But I feel that the last line, "Why do we have to wipe out the Otherness in order to experience a notion of Oneness" (235) kind of contradicts what she talks about in the essay. Didn't the Korean military brides use their Otherness to create a community and network of women and families with shared experiences, thus fostering oneness?

I really liked how the film, First Person Plural, by Deann Borshay complimented the reading (about Korean military brides). Although the two tell different stories, I like that they talk about very similar experiences. In both cases, the Korean military brides and Korean adoptees went to or were sent to the United States, anticipating a future full of promise and opportunity that Korea, for various reasons, could not offer to them. I feel that the struggles both groups face are very similar. For the Korean military brides, this struggle involved embracing American culture in order to succeed, while attempting to hold on to Korean tradition and values. For Korean adoptees, or specifically, Deann, the struggle involved working hard to become American and therefore a loss of her original Korean identity, which she later on strives to recover. In both cases, there a various obstacles which stand in the way from reattaining or maintaining this sense of Korean identity. For the Korean military brides, those obstacles included the husbands who insisted upon American traditions and values, and many Koreans who wrote military brides off as low class prostitutes. Deanna's family stood as an obstacle - she knew who her mother and her family was, and yet, in Korea, there was another family waiting to meet her for the first time in 30 years. I like how in both cases, the stories refuse to choose sides, and instead, embrace an Asian American identity. This really resonates with me because although I haven't been through the same struggles, I really do embrace my identity as a Chinese American.

Before today's class, I started drafting a post on historiography. We've read a considerable amount of fiction set in the periods we're studying but written much later. Of course historical memory is as relevant as the events that transpired. It's impossible anyway to understand history without something of a presentist lens; why not go straight to what Yamashita thinks of WWII, what Divakaruni thinks of the early 1900s, what Lau thinks of the 1860s? But it made me wonder if there's a problem of voicelessness. By using modern sources we're in danger of making the assumption that the "picture brides", for example, cannot speak for themselves -- that there are no interviews, letters, pictures from these women that we could be reading. In a context where the idea of an intermediary is so fraught -- cf Nomura -- is this adding another?

Well, that'd be true if this was a history class, which: it isn't! We're studying Asian-American women's experiences, which means Divakaruni and Yamamoto's, too. So much of what we've talked about so far has put stress on the necessity of generational continuity. The Filipina-American journalling project is primarily figured as valuable so that it can foster communication and tradition transmission between first- and second-generation Filipina-Americans. And then there's the movie, which -- combined with class reactions -- is a treatise on the necessity of continuity, of cultural connection, and of personal experiences as reinterpreted through the viewer's eyes. Enough people have posted stories of their own Wilshire bus that it's pretty obvious straight-up history is only half the story, and the less important half.