bi-bonds

Lucy Wang's Junk Bonds was a fast-paced look into the trade forum. The trading of bonds is an interesting parallel to the trading of identity; it is always a push and pull, give or take, win and lose. The protagonist, D.K., is an outsider to the company in a variety of ways: she is a woman and Chinese-American. I feel that she is also an outsider in another way: she seems to be more human than her male counterparts. At first, she is picked on ruthlessly, but with the introduction of Hiro, the tables turn. She is given the opportunity to be the top dog, to put someone down. I was appalled to read about how she cut his tie, but I think what affected me the most was when Hiro says to her "But we have the same face!" Loyalty lies in image because it is what we are used to seeing, what we are used to allying ourselves with. D.K. is in a unique position because while she does look like Hiro on the outside, she has a completely American mindset on the inside. Again, we see the split between the external and the internal.

To go further on the theme of image as loyalty, the guys at the company ask D.K. if she rooted for the Asian competitors in the Olympic competitions rather than the American ones. She becomes flustered, and I can relate completely; this is a question that I've asked myself many times. When watching the Olympic games with my white friends, I always felt like I was betraying someone or something if I chose to root for the Chinese or Asian competitors instead of the American ones. Strange, but I felt a lot more comfortable watching world sports competitions with my family or friends who were also Asian American, because they understand the dual identity that we have. I actually asked my roommate who is Korean American if she rooted for South Korea or America in the Olympic games. She said that when Korea played America in the World Cup a couple years back, she rooted for both because as long as one of the two won, she felt like it was okay. However, she also added that she felt that she was rooting for the Koreans a bit more than the Americans, but she didn't know why. We asked another of our friends who was Korean American about the Korea/America game, and he said, sort of sheepishly, that he rooted for Korea. He really wasn't sure why either; he didn't seem to consider rooting for America as "his" country. All three of us were born and raised in America, and yet the feeling of not quite being a part of the American community somehow still persists. I don't know what it is that makes us root for the country of our parents. Perhaps it is because the players look like us, and subconsciously, we gravitate towards that commonality. We can trade our identities to suit the situation, but it doesn't necessarily mean that we like it, nor does it mean that we understand why we do what we do. After all, trading is hard work, but we've got to do it to survive.

Lost and Found

I found Velina Hasu Houston's Kokoro to be deeply poignant and touching. The main character, Yasako Yamashita, is presented with harsh issues that she must either choose to confront or forget. Half a world away from the place that she considers to be home, she finds that her husband is cheating on her with an Americanized Japanese woman, and that she is unable to voice her opinions on a day to day basis. She cannot protect her daughter from the taunts and bullying of other children, and cannot make her opinions heard. The only way that she finds comfort is in the traditions and beliefs of her past; the double-suicide is the only way that she knows to find peace in a life fraught with indignities and infidelities.

I found the plight of Evelyn to be very thought-provoking as well. As person of mixed racial identity, she does not quite know where to belong. Yasako's allegiance is clearly with Japan, but Evelyn is both Japanese and American. Because she looks more white, she chooses that identity rather tha identifying herself as Japanese. Unlike Yasako--and unlike the Nisei--Evelyn has the choice to assimilate. But even she cannot deny her Japanese heritage; Yasako's attempt at suicide raises the question of identity in Evelyn. On the one hand, Evelyn is raised by the American system of morality; on the other, she can sympathize with Japanese values as well. Her identity is split as well, between American and Japanese. She is torn between adhering to the American penal system and the Japanese traditions of honor; this is symbolized by the little rust cup that she eventually brings to Yasako.

All in all, I found Houston's play to be thoughtful and thought-provoking. I felt like I could relate to both Yasako and Evelyn for their conflicts of culture. Having an unhyphenated social identity is a luxury that is denied to Yasako as an immigrant and Evelyn as a second generation immigrant of mixed race.

Of Two Minds

In Chapter 5: Ethnic Solidarity of Takaki's book, what jumped most out at me was the experiences of the Nisei, or second generation Japanese. Takaki writes that "Nisei names reflected their dual identities." The Nisei would pick an American name to use in schools, while their Japanese names were used at home. My own parents decided to give both my brother and me American names, but we have Chinese names as well. We both attended a Mandarin language school on Sundays, while learning about America at school during the weekdays.

With these dual names, dual personalities also developed. At school, I can be opinionated and loud. At home, my parents prefer me to be quiet, docile. Reconciling the two has been a daily task for many of my adolescent years. Like the Nisei, it is strange to think like an American but look like a Taiwaese. Like the Nisei, modern-day second generation kids also struggle to find a place to belong. Are we Taiwanese? American?

Last night, I was asked by my white housemate if her friend could interview me because it was part of her class assignment to interview someone from a different country. I tried to explain that I was American, so I probably didn't fit the requirements of the assignments. The girl, who was very friendly, dismissed my disclaimer and said "You're close enough." The questions that she asked clearly pitted me versus "us." "What do you think of Americans when they do this..." she asked. I didn't really know how to respond. I do those things too, whatever she asked. I know that she meant well, but part of me protested inside: I AM AN AMERICAN. It just drove home again that no matter how hard we try, our physical appearance still betrays us. People usually don't mean to be insulting or perjorative, but it's these unintentional slights that gets to me everytime.