Barack Like Me

Being half-Korean (and half-Caucasian), perhaps you can understand my trepidation in even attempting to make the following comparison; yet, when I read in today’s San Francisco Chronicle about my favorite presidential candidate for 2008, Barack Obama, facing flak from some members of the African American community for not being black enough, I could not help but feel his pain.

Critics of Mr. Obama claim that he is “not African American and is unsuited to be a black candidate, because he is not a direct descendant of slaves and hasn't had what they see as an authentic African American experience.” Ouch! True, the man is the son of a Kenyan immigrant and a Caucasian mother; yet, he identifies as an African American and is perceived by many as an African American. Shouldn’t that be enough?

The other day, I heard an anecdote from the director of my institution, who is currently working with a Japanese architect on the design of our new building. In an informal meeting, the architect expressed his views on the hierarchy of Japanese-ness: First, there are REAL Japanese, i.e., those who were born and raised in Japan . Yoko Ono and Seiji Ozawa are REAL Japanese. Then, there are FAKE Japanese, i.e., those who were born outside of Japan. The fake Japanese in our culture are too numerous to count, but some that come to mind are Jenny Shimizu, Judge Lance Ito, and Senator S. I. Hayakawa. The architect went on to aver that there was yet another category of Japanese (sorry, the name escapes me, but it was something like Ur-Japanese) who are NOT Japanese, but THINK they are Japanese. Larry Ellison, CEO and founder of Oracle, might fall into this category. Finally, the architect claimed to be confused about what to call Hawaiian Japanese; they’re in a category of their own.

I told my mom, who was brought up in Korea under Japanese occupation, about the above conversation and she was not at all surprised: “That sounds typically Japanese,” she said. Unfortunately, I’ve experienced this attitude from Koreans as well. Not only was I not born in Korea and don’t speak the language, I am not even 100% Korean. Korean-born Koreans (including my mother) consider me, for the most part, a “white girl.” And my daughter, who’s “quappa?” She’s really a white girl. Korean twice removed.

You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve tried to start writing this blog post in such a way that is both meaningful to our Kimchi Mama audience AND is respectful to the African American community. I claim to be neither an expert in African American race relations; a social historian; nor a scholar of ethnic studies: What I am is a bi-racial (hapa) woman whose dueling ethnicities have forced her to spend her life straddling two cultures, belonging simultaneously to both and to neither.

I find the racial hierarchy I’ve described, above, both hurtful and exclusionary. If Barack is not African American, then what is he? If I am not Korean, then am I white? Just because Kristi Yamaguchi was born in the U.S., does that negate her centuries-old connection to Japan?

I’m all over the place here, but my point is simple: People who are ethnically mixed or not born on the soil of the country of their ancestors’ origin should be able to self-identify, both racially and ethnically.  We should be embraced unconditionally and wholeheartedly by the group to which we choose to identify and belong. 

You might remember when last year Barack traveled to his father’s village in Kenya and was greeted  warmly by the Africans he met there. They considered him to be one of them, even though he is half white and was not born on their continent. I think they called him their “son.” We should aim to be more like those Kenyans and open our hearts to anyone who shares a part of our culture and wants to belong to that culture. Isn’t America supposed to be all about inclusiveness, after all?

Note: The title of my post refers to Black Like Me, a seminal book about black/white race relations published in 1961.