Maybe I’m blissfully ignorant of these issues. I prefer to think that the people we have encountered just might be open-minded enough to accept our child as she is without casting her in a freakshow role.

Last weekend, I spied a rummage sale at a nearby church. It happened to be the Korean Assembly of God church. I’m still very whitewashed and my religious beliefs are not in alignment with AOG, so I don’t give it much thought.

I didn’t like what I read about how hapas are treated in the Korean community. Now I have first-hand experience to report, and it is favorable.

As we approached the rummage sale, my guard was up. Religious outreach efforts by Koreans have been made toward me in the past by various groups, but the language barrier stopped them in their tracks.

I’d say it was an average reception. Not everyone is going to dote on a baby, no matter how cute she is. A few women lit up. One woman even remarked, “Asian genes are so strong!” Another lady was being assertive, trying to sell us a toy that was clearly outside of her age range. It was around noon, and you know what noontime means for rummage sales. Frugal tip here. Sometimes, you can score deals at the end of a garage sale. This is stuff people don’t want anymore.

Overall, I sensed no disdain for this mixed-race child. Maybe people have come around.

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The following is a guest post from Heather Weaver, a.k.a. “Geek Mom.”

Growing up “hapa” in the Midwestern United States in the 70s and 80s was not much different than growing up white, I think… I spent my youth in the macaroni and cheese, potato salad, extra-mild salsa part of the country. We ate Japanese food frequently, but I figured that was pretty normal.

As a half-Japanese girl who looked more Caucasian than Japanese, most people couldn’t really tell I was hapa, unless they knew my family, or happened to see my middle name, Midori.

I think that was a unique situation to be in. I didn’t really look any different, so I was perceived as white by strangers. Unlike my father, who is Japanese — and looks Japanese — people did not usually judge me by my ethnicity.

Although he does not talk about his experiences with discrimination much, I know that my dad has dealt with it throughout his life. As a young boy, he spent World War 2 in an internment camp with his family. His little brother, my uncle, was born in that camp in Arizona. It really wasn’t that long ago, if you think about it. My dad is only 67 years old.

My father’s experience is in stark contrast with my own. I have had the power of disclosing my ethnicity by choice, most of the time. It’s not that I’m ashamed of being hapa, or afraid of being recognized as such. I love my Japanese heritage! It’s just that since most people can’t tell, it’s usually up to me to decide who finds out, and when. Kind of like a superhero with a secret identity — I’m Hapa Girl!

• Able to make perfectly steamed white rice without a measuring cup!
• Able to speak English without a foreign accent!
• Able to use chopsticks without making a mess!

Okay, so that’s kind of silly. But when I stop and think about easy my life has been, compared to the way my father grew up, I feel so lucky to be hapa. It has really been a blessing of the “best of both worlds.” I’m not sure how to express it without sounding corny or trite. I’m truly happy to be hapa!

——–

I wanted to get a first-hand perspective from another hapa, so I called upon Heather (a.ka. Geek Mom) for some help. The only other hapa I know isn’t much of a computer user. However, she has managed to type, “34kldflkj4toicv dsf09u4 tljkvda” and things like that.

You can find more of Heather’s writing at her blogs, Geek Mom Mashup and Sugar and Sweets. As if she doesn’t have her hands full enough with 3 children, 2 blogs, a husband, and an internet addiction, she blogs at Posh Mama and finds a spare moment to make unique hand-made gifts.

Growing up as a Twinkie, I don’t have much Asian identity, except for my appearance. It sounds cliché, but I am stuck between two worlds. Maybe this is why I’m so annoyed at blanket judgments based on appearance. I don’t fit in to some neat little category. As soon as an unenlightened individual realizes I don’t work in IT or engineering and don’t know karate, they’re dumbfounded.

Then there’s the Asian community. Twinkies tend to be shunned by Asians holding on to their cultural identity. I still don’t have any Korean friends. I learned a little about Korean-American culture, and it’s just starting to coalesce due to my recent interest.

After some reflection, I realized that I’m more Korean than I used to admit:

• I love spicy food. Whenever I go to a Thai restaurant, I tell the waiter, “When I say ‘5-star spicy’ I mean it. I’m Korean.”
• I love garlic. While I’m cooking, I occasionally peel an extra clove to eat it whole.
• The other day, I dressed up some artichoke hearts with red pepper, garlic, sea salt, and olive oil. It looked like ban chan (side dishes).
• I root for the underdog with few exceptions.
• I used to smoke cigarettes.
• One of my goals is to be able to afford private school for my daughter.

However, the whitewashing is pretty complete. Inertia is tough to overcome.

• My wife is from Texas but I’m more redneck than she is.
• I wear my shoes inside the house all the time.
• My Swedish vocabulary has eclipsed my Korean vocabulary.
• I still have karaoke anxiety. It’s a favorite activity among Koreans.

Despite the advanced degree of “Twinkification” I’m coming back around a little. I’m frequenting Kimchi Mamas and Rice Daddies more these days. I was saddened when I heard that the Namdaemun (Great Southern Gate) in Seoul burned down. I even talked about making some Korean food for Twilli to try one day!

It’s too soon to share some of these thoughts with my daughter, but it’s not too soon to start my own homework. I have no idea what to expect. You can find oases of multicultural acceptance today. It is my hope that the oasis becomes a pasture.

My mother always said that she wanted to bring together the best of both worlds. From my vantage point, she’s still very Korean. The one who really brings the best of both worlds together is my daughter.

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Growing up in an area heralded for its diversity, there was (and still is) a conspicuous underrepresentation of Asians. I can’t complain much. I love Cuban and Argentine cuisine. I have a legitimate shot at becoming fluent in Spanish. I might even teach my daughter.

Being different meant being ridiculed. This was how I became whitewashed. I couldn’t articulate it. It was such a horrible thing to feel. I was ashamed of being Korean. How can you say that publicly? I was ashamed of who I was and ashamed to admit that I was ashamed. This low self-esteem cocktail didn’t fully metabolize until my late 20’s.

I fiercely defended being a Twinkie. I started to accept that I was what I was. If 3rd, 4th, and 5th generation Italian-Americans can have Italian pride without speaking a word of the language, why was it such a crime for me not to have in-depth knowledge of Korean culture? I felt I was no different from the distant descendants of European immigrants. I just accelerated the Americanization process.

Are Asian people expected to preserve their cultural identity more than other ethnic groups? I was certainly asked to feel that way when people called me out for not being Korean enough. I didn’t fit into a neat little category. I worked hard to make sure I didn’t fit any Asian stereotypes. I let academics slide in high school. I declined to participate in anything that identified me as Korean. I even elected to shelve a hobby (photography) that I enjoyed immensely for many years.

Whenever people ask me, “Where are you from?”

My answer is, “Baltimore.” This usually results in a quizzical look.

Someone once asked me, “What part of China are you from?”

“It’s a tiny little province in the northeast. You may have heard of it. It’s called BALTIMORE!”

I’ve encountered my share of racial ignorance too. “Are you Chinese?”

“No.”

“Japanese?”

“No. Korean.”

“What’s the difference?”

ARGHHH!!!!!

I didn’t fit into some neat little box. Fortunately, I’m OK with that. I’ve never been easy to explain. I used to curse it, but maybe this button-pushing is exactly what people need. If you push buttons and shatter stereotypes, shout out with a comment.

• When we broke the news to our friend Shantelle, she exclaimed, “ohmygod! That’s going to be one beautiful baby!”
• In the January/February 2006 issue of Psychology Today, an article titled Mixed Race, Pretty Face?, the author states that people of mixed Asian and European origins have become synonymous with exotic glamour.

In my own explorations, I’ve found that many parents of mixed-race children grow weary of the comments on how exotic the child looks. This seems to be true regardless of the particular ethnicities blended.

Before you think this is another rant, think again. People say boneheaded things all the time. Comments like, “ooh, she’s so exotic looking,” may stem from ignorance and laziness. It may even be a socially conditioned response. When my wife and I are out in public, people do comment on how beautiful our daughter is. I don’t feel like we’re being gawked at. Most strangers who make comments merely think my daughter just happens to be an exceptionally cute baby.

The beauty we see in these multi-racial children transcends the physical attributes. A mixed-race child is tolerance and diversity personified. That is what I see as the source of their fabled beauty.

Embracing another culture, one another, and having racial tolerance fertilizes our culture with biracial children. They are the ultimate symbol of diversity and tolerance. If two people from different backgrounds can have a child together, that’s two people who transcended the racial divide, at least long enough to have a good time. One of my friends almost wears it like a badge. “I’m doing my part to make the world all one color.”

I did my best to be as un-Korean as possible for a long time. Why should I embrace it? It was the reason I was shunned, ridiculed, typecast, and misunderstood. When other kids teased me, it was beyond the normal teasing. There were times when I could feel the hate behind their words. Bloodlines competed with societal influences. My parents grew complacent, so I continued my “whitening” process.

My sisters either embraced it or just did their part to honor their parents’ wishes. For a while, they went to Korean school on Saturday mornings. They even had some Korean friends. I declined to participate, further distancing me from my family.

The culture that produced me wanted me back. My parents made strong hints to apply to certain colleges for their large Korean populations. This motive was unknown to me. My mother threw up a little smokescreen, touting the prestige of certain schools over others. I followed their suggestion yet failed to assimilate into the Korean community. The only Korean people in my entire address book are members of my family.

I’ve never liked really Korean food. There are a few dishes I tolerate, but I don’t go out of my way to get it. If I lived in Korea, I would either starve to death or elevate Morgan Spurlock’s experiment into a lifestyle.

Abstaining from offerings of food is considered an affront in so many cultures, especially in Korea. This has created many awkward family gatherings. As soon as I was able to express food preferences, I eschewed Korean food at every turn. As a small child, I wouldn’t even eat anything remotely Asian. One night, my parents smuggled some food into a Chinese restaurant for me. They made me sit under the table to eat my big fat juicy American burger.

There is no disrespect intended here. My mother and grandmother accommodated my preferences throughout my childhood despite the fact that my father insisted on Korean food for dinner almost every night. As soon as I was able to cook, I started experimenting. Cooking one dinner is hard enough. I couldn’t ask my mother to do it twice every night. As a result, I’m completely self-taught in the kitchen. I’m one of those guys who doesn’t follow recipes.

I made some contact with my extended family a few years ago. It was also the first time anyone shared their story of internal conflict with me. My cousin went through the same whitewashing process. She lives in southern California, so she can’t run or hide from her heritage. I always felt isolated in my struggle. We don’t have much in common, but what we do have in common is profound. It shaped who we are today.

Now that the Korean population in my household has increased by a 0.5 people, I’m paying more attention. I don’t know how Korean I will become. I still find the food disagreeable. It’s a culture with some values that are different than the ones I forged for myself. The Christian denominations favored by the Korean community in South Florida don’t suit me either. The differences I have now are sincere preferences rather than being rooted in rebellion and rejection.

I owe it to myself and to my daughter to re-assimilate a little of my Korean heritage and wear a little more Korean pride. Denying her the opportunity to explore her roots would be unconscionable.

The show chronicles the daily life of the Gosselins – Jon, Kate, Cara, Madelyn, Alexis, Aaden, Collin, Leah, Hannah, and Joel. The mundane activities of family life turn into a television-worthy circus. I’ve watched a few episodes and did some Googling. Here are some of my quick thoughts:

• The husband is [half] Asian and the wife is Caucasian. You typically see Caucasian male / Asian female pairings.
• It’s great to see that the chaos of raising 8 children overshadows their biracial status.
• I always smile privately whenever I see an Asian person portrayed in the media who speaks with a perfectly good American accent.
• Kate is older than Jon, so that’s another stereotype buster. Yay!
• Kate is a control freak and engages in plenty of henpecking. This doesn’t help the perception of Asian men in America.
• I wonder what their car would look like if they had “Family Aboard” stickers on it.

I’m not a big fan of television, but there is one worthwhile takeaway from all this. One of the many official sites dedicated to the Gosselins features tips for running a smooth household. This is sound advice whether you have one child or 8!

Now that my curiosity has been satisfied, I can turn the TV off until the Stanley Cup Finals.

What I didn’t expect was the interest I suddenly took in the issues that biracial people face. It all started when I stumbled across Rice Daddies. I started to take more interest in my own background. The Korean side of me is waking up. It needs to for my daughter to understand who she is.

This blog is still evolving. The biracial topic is the only new one that wasn’t planned from the get go. I’m still doing plenty of writing behind the scenes here and at my other blogs. Stay tuned.

I’ve always been attracted to caucasian women. I never thought it was weird. It was just a matter of time before I ended up with a biracial child.

Knowing the probabilities, I still never gave much thought to the issues that interracial couples and their children face until now. After some research, I unearthed something shocking. Rob Schneider is part Filipino!

Yes, that is shocking, considering the criticism he’s received for negative portrayals of Asians and Pacific Islanders. But the real eye-opener for me was the story of Hines Ward and others like him.

I am not a fan of American football, so I knew nothing of Hines Ward. Despite this, I can assure you that my testosterone levels are high enough. For those of you who are in the same camp as I am, Hines Ward is a wide receiver for the Pittsburgh Steelers, and currently one of the league’s best at that position.

Hines Ward was born to a Korean mother and an African American father in Seoul, South Korea. The family left Korea due to the prejudice and discrimination endured by people of mixed ethnicity. Ward would not escape discrimination in America either.

One Superbowl title and MVP award later, Ward and his mother made a triumphant return to his homeland. Once shunned, they were given the red carpet treatment wherever they went. Throughout his visit, he arranged “hope sharing” meetings with multiracial Korean children and championed social change. He created the Hines Ward Helping Hands Foundation to help mixed-race children like himself.

The discrimination faced by hapas was a shock to me. I don’t have regular contact with other Koreans, so I wasn’t aware of this attitude. I socialize with an eclectic crowd that embraces diversity. The unconditional love I feel for my daughter and the warm reception she has received by all who have met her is such a stark contrast to the way hapas are treated in Korea.

I was taunted and teased throughout elementary school, but it was mild compared to what Hines Ward endured. Perhaps being “whitewashed” almost makes me a hapa by proxy. Through the Hines Ward Helping Hands Foundation (where is your website, dude?!?!), Pearl S. Buck International, and our own individual efforts, I have hope that Twilli will only have anecdotal knowledge of racial intolerance.

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