Kimchi Mamas

What's the "right" way to ask about your children's ethnicity or race?

I really enjoyed reading everyone's comments on my last post about ethnicity/race here... but now I am curious...

What is the "right" way to ask questions about a bi-racial/multi-racial (or not-so-obvious ethnicity/race) child's ethnicity/race? Especially if the child is only with one parent and it's not obvious, or if the child is adopted from a ethnicity/race not the same as both or either parent. Or is it even Kosher or PC, to ask about ethnicity/race anymore?

Some of the wrong ways might be:

Is your child adopted?

Is your wife/husband Oriental?

Is that your friend's son/daughter?

Are you the nanny?

Is he/she from China?

Where is your family from?

If you are the parent of a multi-racial or biracial child, how would you prefered to be asked about your child(ren)'s race, if at all?

 

- Mary

Why There Needs to be a Different Standard of Depression for Koreans

When I feel depressed, it's hard to tell the cause: is it stress in my life, my mood disorder, or merely because I am Korean?

Talk to any Korean person of my parents' generation about depression, and most likely they will equate it with laziness ("When we don't want to get out of bed or work hard, we don't call it depressed"),  privilege ("They don't have to worry about anything else"), or  insanity ("Are you going to tear up your clothes and put flowers in your hair?").  They just don't view it as a real chronic illness.

But yet, it obviously exists, even for Korean people.  Domestic violence, alcohol and drug abuse, and suicide are major societal problems, and those often are side effects of mood disorders.

I'm starting to wonder if the problem lies in the usual criteria for diagnosis.  If you look at the normal list of symptoms for depression and you knew Korean people at all, it seems like we are ALL depressed!

According to the Mayo Clinic, depression symptoms include:

• Feelings of sadness or unhappiness
• Irritability or frustration, even over small matters
• Frequent thoughts of death, dying or suicide
• Crying spells for no apparent reason

In Korea, these are all considered normal.  We even have a word for it: han.  An excellent article in the LA Times on han can be found here.  We all carry around a sadness and trauma that is so ingrained it might as well be part of our genome.  Suffering and death are recurring themes in our art, our folklore, our history.  Hell, it's even the main philosophy of kimchi: preserve everything you can for the day -- and that day definitely will come -- when there is nothing.  It is the reason why when you piss off your mom, she says things like "Do you want me to die now?  Will that make you happy?"  Sigh.

• Reduced sex drive
• Feelings of worthlessness or guilt, fixating on past failures or blaming yourself when things aren't going right
• Changes in appetite — depression often causes decreased appetite and weight loss, but in some people it causes increased cravings for food and weight gain
• Agitation or restlessness — for example, pacing, hand-wringing or an inability to sit still
• Unexplained physical problems, such as back pain or headaches
• Loss of interest or pleasure in normal activities
• Insomnia or excessive sleeping

These things are also very common...but these I put the blame squarely on nurture, not nature.  I am still convinced that my parents had sex only two times in their lives: that is why my sister and I exist.  And Korean parents are the kings of the extreme guilt complex, unconstructive criticism, harsh-ass punishments, mysterious aches and pains, the neverending war against dust and hair on the floor, and equating food with love...which take care of the rest.  Again, a Korean would look at that list and think, "Yeah, so what?"

• Slowed thinking, speaking or body movements
• Indecisiveness, distractibility and decreased concentration
• Fatigue, tiredness and loss of energy — even small tasks may seem to require a lot of effort
• Trouble thinking, concentrating, making decisions and remembering things

These might be real bellweathers for us, but then again if I told my Korean doctor that I felt these symptoms, he would probably give me some nasty Chinese herbal potion to flush out my liver and reprimand me for being fat (in all seriousness, my childhood doctor's nickname for me was "Cow" and would constantly nag me to take diet pills.  He was a friend of my dad's.).  Maybe some Korean-specific research needs to be done, so we can get an idea of what depression looks like for us, or maybe we are indeed all afflicted with it.

--Julie

Some Reactions to "Paper Tigers"

Wesley Yang's recent essay, "Paper Tigers," was published as the cover story of New York Magazine yesterday.  Have you read it yet?  I just did, and my head is reeling.  Much like Manny Pacquiao delivering blow after blow in the ring, Wesley Yang overloads the senses with vivid imagery, damning statistics, compelling interviews and profiles, and the occasional "fuck you" thrown in for good measure.  It is a long article, and I write short blog posts, so I'm only going to talk about a couple points here, but please bring up other points of discussion in the comments if you wish.

Okay, first assertion by the author I wish to talk about: Asian Americans, although we have fantastic college acceptance and graduation rates, meet a "Bamboo Ceiling" in the corporate world, evidenced by some anecdotes and the fact that only 1.8% of Fortune 500 companies have Asian CEOs.  Therefore, all the math drills and cram schools we force our kids to attend do not guarantee success in life after school.

First off, I agree that this Bamboo Ceiling phenomenon exists; I just don't think the statistics he has chosen to use even begin to prove his point.  If we go by the Fortune 500 measure, everyone in America besides these 500 CEOs hasn't succeeded, and I'm sure many of them beg to differ.  And I'm not talking from the "money doesn't guarantee happiness" point of view either...fine, you want to judge success by Benjamins, I can talk Benjamins.  

How about the thousands of Asian Americans who can say: "I may not have made $37 million dollars last year as CEO of PepsiCo (ironically CEOed by a woman of South Asian descent), but as a boring-ass middle-tier lawyer I did make $300,000."  I dunno about you, but that still seems like success to me.  And don't forget all the Asian Americans who knowingly opt out of the rat race either by becoming public servants, activists, artists and designers, church leaders (I wonder what the combined net worth of all the Korean churches in America is...I bet it's not too shabby), and self-employed.

It's tough to become a Fortune 500 CEO, or any kind of CEO that necessitates moving up the corporate ladder.  The reason why so many of them are tall white men is because their predecessors were tall white men.  The Old Boy Network has been around for what, 12 generations now, and that club is hard to get into, and it usually involves multiple generations of inherited money, power, and connections to people like governors and board members, so they're not bound to look kindly on some fresh-faced 2nd generation ethnic-American whose family's net worth cannot buy a congressional district.  I think it's amazing that even 9 Asian Americans managed to pierce through that veil.  Go them!

Which brings me to my second point: you think Asian Americans have it bad?  Talk to a Latino or African American.  Their "success" numbers drop off in high school, let alone college.  Or how about women of all races?  Injustice comes in many flavors.

My second cause of dismay was the uncomfortably long portion dedicated to learning pick up artist tricks in order to bone white girls.  After all this compelling talk about real Asian American issues, with no segue at all, suddenly I'm thrust into a world I don't think I'm meant to witness with a motley crew of alpha-males-in-training.  Their mission statement: "What is good in life?"  “To crush my enemies, see them driven before me, and to hear the lamentation of their women—in my bed!”

Work and life success equated with contrived sexual conquests?  Really?  Who invited me to the sausage fest?

However, this bombastic tone screeches to a halt near the end when he starts talking about Amy Chua's Tiger Mom book.  In fact, his review is the most nuanced and intriguing I've read on the topic, and it actually made me want to finally read the book.  Which brings me to my final reaction: despite the gut-wrenching, angry ways he describes his own and the world's shortcomings, Wesley Yang strikes me a pinnacle of his definition of success.  He has a semi-naked picture of himself published in his barely-edited cover story for New York Magazine, for goodness' sake!  And dare I say, despite his first few paragraphs, he accomplished this as an Asian American.

PS: While I was writing this, Ask a Korean's response came into my feed reader.  It's some good shit.

--Julie

You Win Some, You Lose Some

My son, Isaac, is currently in first grade, and this academic year has proven to be one full of self-discovery and -actualization.  I always thought hearing his first words was the most breathtaking parenting moment, but witnessing him trying to place himself along the myriad of spectrums of identity, has been nothing short of magic.

The other day, he told me how some boys like to play rough while others liked princesses, and how he was somewhere in the middle.  Believe me, that is some pretty insightful analysis from a boy whose favorite YouTube video features a cat hiccuping and farting at the same time.

A few weeks ago, while I was volunteering in his classroom, I came upon a pen pal letter he had written.  It went something like this:

Dear Pen Pal,

Hi!  How are you?  My name is Isaac and I am Korean.  Are you Korean too?  I am very good at addition and pretty good at subtraction, and I am a good listener.  What do you like to do?  I hope you write back soon.  Bye!

Isaac

Did you see that???  He said he was Korean.  Be still my heart!  I can die now, my work on earth is done.

So when it came time for this month's show and tell (the assignment was to bring something that symbolizes your family's winter traditions), I asked him if he wanted to bring in his han bok and talk about how Koreans celebrate New Year's, namely how we go to our grandparents' house, bow to them and get money, then eat a huge meal involving soup, fish, and the like.  He was keen on the idea, and we rehearsed a few times to make sure he was prepared.  

The morning of his presentation, we had another walk-through and I nearly fainted when he said, "My name is Isaac and I am going to talk about New Year's.  This is my, uh...my...Hong Kong, which is a kind of Chinese or Japanese thing you wear."

I suppose we are all works in progress, right?

What IS the right way to ask....

You know what question I'm talking about! Some of the wrong ways to ask are:

1. Where are you from?

2. Where are your parents from?

3. Where were you born?

4. Where were your parents born?

5. Where did you grow up?

6. Were you born here?

7. What nationality are you?

8. Are you Chinese?

9. I love sushi! (Wait, that's not a question!)

10. What language do you speak at home?

11. Ni hao ma? (Wo hen hao.)

Being Other; Being Whole

My daughter and I were at Chicago's Field Museum for a kid's theater show, and we happened to pass by this photo exhibit of portraits of people who are part Asian.  It's a selection of images from Kip Fullbeck's Hapa Project.  He also has a book titled the same as the exhibit.

It was interesting to see so many different faces who are all part Asian and to read the descriptions of how people define themselves personally.  My daughter was too hungry for lunch to take the time to look at each photo, but I did wonder how much she has considered being "other."  As far as I know, she is the only mixed race child in her class, and she knows that Mommy is Korean, and Daddy is not, and she is both.  

I doubt she's given it much thought, and I'm not sure what guidance I can provide in encouraging her to reflect on her identity as she grows older.  I hope our postmodern sensibilities will allow us to embrace the complexity and seeming contradiction of having a racial makeup of certain proportions that do not equate to how one actually identifies oneself.  I don't know how my daughter will take her "half Korean-ness" and "half Caucasian-ness" and integrate them into an identity that is holistic and truly her own self; I just hope I can be the support she needs on that journey.

~ Sarah-Ji

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In addition to the Hapa Project, Kip Fullbeck has a newer project called MIXED which features portraits of mixed race children and is also out in book form.

To see if there is an exhibit of either project near you, click here.

In the Matter of Cha Jung Hee

I had the privilege of watching the film In the Matter of Cha Jung Hee at the San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival last month. Deann Borshay Liem produced and directed the film and it's sort of a follow up to her first film, First Person Plural, which is a documentary film about her experience as an international adoptee.

The auditorium of the Pacific Film Archive in Berkeley was packed for this world premiere. The audience was very diverse and a group of Korean American adoptees were there as well, as an organized event by AKASF.

Silicon Valley Asian American Voices Project: Immigrant Issues Affect Us All No Matter Where We Live

Even if you don't live in Silicon Valley, I'm hoping that as a Kimchi Mamas reader connected to Asian culture you will take a look at the trailer for the Silicon Valley Asian American Voices video project. The documentary follows the stories—the successes, hardships, and hopes—of three Asian American immigrants in Silicon Valley. Despite struggling through language, cultural, and health care barriers, these individuals readily work to shape the local community. This piece explores the strengthening of community through the support of immigrant populations.

These issues reach far beyond Silicon Valley—the policy initiatives associated with the project impact Asian immigrants and their family members across the United States—which is why I share it here.

Please take a moment to watch it--no matter where you live or where you are from, I think you will be able to relate to the stories being told. 

If you are in the Bay Area and would like to come to a screening of the documentary you can find all the info on the Silicon Valley Asian American Voices project website. It also screens at the Asian American Film Festival on March 20.

Please feel free to share the trailer on your blog, Facebook, or on Twitter. (Here's the URL if that's easier: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjKBzZv7s7g)

-Stefania Pomponi Butler

DIsclosure: AACI, the organization behind Silicon Valley Asian American Voices is a client of mine.

아줌마 (Ajumma)

When I was in college, I had a bet going with my friends, a bet I would almost always win.  If we were attending a party or other gathering that required me to introduce myself to new people, inevitably one or more of those people would mention how much they loved Margaret Cho and thought she was SO funny.

WTF, right?  I look nothing like her.  And these weren't just your typical ignorant folk either; somehow the magic combination being Korean and overweight and funny made people make the connection.  I probably should have been flattered.

Regardless, I resented the hell out of it, not because I didn't like Margaret Cho's comedy or her philosophies, in fact I consider myself a fan.   However, I think everyone likes to believe that they are a unique little snowflake in this world, and that there is room in people's hearts for more than one outspoken, witty Korean woman.  But no, my chances of fame are forever dashed because she came first!  Why are the fates so cruel!  I raise my fist to the heavens and cry, MORAAAAAAN!!!

Anyway, I was reminded of this today when I asked my husband in a husky, too-eager voice, "TIM!!!  I made an awesome kimchi jjigae, take a picture!"

Then a warning buzzer rang in my head: uh oh, I just loved my own cooking.  That is #4 in Stuff Korean Moms Like.  I am no longer Margaret Cho.  I'm Margaret Cho's MOM.  I am officially an ajumma, a visor-wielding, self-medicating matron.  Oh well, at least now I get to talk smack about you in front of your face while I polish my Corningware.

While we're on the subject, here is Margaret Cho on being a Korean American role model (warning: bad words), which is ironically very much similar to my views on being a Korean American:

3, 2, 1...Sae Hae Bok Mani Badusaeyo!

Happy New Year!

Sae hae bok mani badusaeyo!

I'm at my parents' house watching "Friends" reruns with my husband (Yubo) and waiting for the ball to drop (on repeat) in Times Square. Usually we don't even make it till midnight, but tonight I think I'll actually be getting kissed come midnight.

But while our New Year's Eves are rarely eventful, tomorrow will be filled with family, tradition and lots and lots of dduk guk.

We'll do seh bae to my halmoni and Yubo's relatives. Growing up, my family celebrated seollal sporadically, if at all, but since marrying Yubo, I have made a point of making it an important holiday for my family. This year I won't get a chance to make my own dduk guk (we'll be driving up and down Los Angeles all day visiting family), but my oldest son, C, has been practicing his bowing and I've got their hanboks ready. Yubo, C and I all dutifully wished my in-laws, who live in Korea, New Year blessings in Korean over the phone earlier this evening (accounting for the time difference, it was already January 1 in Korea.)

I may even track down my own wedding hanbok, which is hiding somewhere in this house.

Mine looks similar to this one via Rae's Creations, but with a darker green chogori. It was a gift from my mother-in-law.

My American self often chafes against the obligation and self-sacrifice that is part and parcel of being part of a Korean family, but I am also undeniably Korean in my views toward family and responsibility. The act of bowing to my elders, to pay respect and promise fidelity and wish blessings in the new year on my family, is ripe with meaning and the act each year means so much more than the little envelope of money given in reciprocity. It is a reminder and a promise.

And something I revel in passing down to my children, third-generation hapa Korean Americans who will grow up both more and less Korean than I ever was.

Sae hae bok mani badusaeyo! (Many blessings to you in the New Year!)

- Nina