Hello Monday. It was a long weekend filled with Hyphen events and appearances. First, thanks to those who stopped by to talk to us Saturday at the Asian American Music Conference, where Audrey was holding down the fort, and the Independent Press Association conference, where I spoke on a panel about niche readership. One thing that was brought up during a discussion at the latter was that some magazines have friendster profiles to help keep in touch with their readers and announce events. Hyphen is one such magazine, so if you want to be our friendster, just look us up! We always love hearing from readers. (If you do a search, our first name is Hyphen, last name is Magazine.)
Also, many thanks to the generous folks who came out to the Tsunami Fundraiser on Friday night at Varnish. Exact figures are not in yet, but we raised more than $2,700 to help tsunami vicitms in Sri Lanka and Indonesia. Best of all, a donor has pledged to match the funds!
Speaking of the tsunami, the latest on the Hot 97 controvery is that an email is circulating claiming that Miss Jones did not write or perform the racist tsunami song and places the blame on producer Rick Delgado.
Right. I can't believe someone would even try to deflect the blame like that, especially if you listen to the clip and hear the yelling that goes on between Miss Jones and Miss Info, the only person on the show who objected to the song. If anyone gets ahold of this email, please post it. I'd like to read it for myself.
(Credit: Pop Life)
Posted by Melissa at 2:51 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
Hello Monday. It was a long weekend filled with Hyphen events and appearances. First, thanks to those who stopped by to talk to us Saturday at the Asian American Music Conference, where Audrey was holding down the fort, and the Independent Press Association conference, where I spoke on a panel about niche readership. One thing that was brought up during a discussion at the latter was that some magazines have friendster profiles to help keep in touch with their readers and announce events. Hyphen is one such magazine, so if you want to be our friendster, just look us up! We always love hearing from readers. (If you do a search, our first name is Hyphen, last name is Magazine.)
Also, many thanks to the generous folks who came out to the Tsunami Fundraiser on Friday night at Varnish. Exact figures are not in yet, but we raised more than $2,700 to help tsunami vicitms in Sri Lanka and Indonesia. Best of all, a donor has pledged to match the funds!
Speaking of the tsunami, the latest on the Hot 97 controvery is that an email is circulating claiming that Miss Jones did not write or perform the racist tsunami song and places the blame on producer Rick Delgado.
Right. I can't believe someone would even try to deflect the blame like that, especially if you listen to the clip and hear the yelling that goes on between Miss Jones and Miss Info, the only person on the show who objected to the song. If anyone gets ahold of this email, please post it. I'd like to read it for myself.
(Credit: Pop Life)
Posted by Melissa at 2:51 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
Hello Monday. It was a long weekend filled with Hyphen events and appearances. First, thanks to those who stopped by to talk to us Saturday at the Asian American Music Conference, where Audrey was holding down the fort, and the Independent Press Association conference, where I spoke on a panel about niche readership. One thing that was brought up during a discussion at the latter was that some magazines have friendster profiles to help keep in touch with their readers and announce events. Hyphen is one such magazine, so if you want to be our friendster, just look us up! We always love hearing from readers. (If you do a search, our first name is Hyphen, last name is Magazine.)
Also, many thanks to the generous folks who came out to the Tsunami Fundraiser on Friday night at Varnish. Exact figures are not in yet, but we raised more than $2,700 to help tsunami vicitms in Sri Lanka and Indonesia. Best of all, a donor has pledged to match the funds!
Speaking of the tsunami, the latest on the Hot 97 controvery is that an email is circulating claiming that Miss Jones did not write or perform the racist tsunami song and places the blame on producer Rick Delgado.
Right. I can't believe someone would even try to deflect the blame like that, especially if you listen to the clip and hear the yelling that goes on between Miss Jones and Miss Info, the only person on the show who objected to the song. If anyone gets ahold of this email, please post it. I'd like to read it for myself.
(Credit: Pop Life)
Posted by Melissa at 2:51 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
... in all the wrong places? Me too. *Sigh*. I'll never forget my confusion when I discovered that driving slowly past single men walking down the street and propositioning them loudly out the window was considered culturally inappropriate. How am I supposed to meet men now?
If you have a similar problem, let us play matchmaker for you! I'm organizing an event in two weeks which not only takes the guesswork out of propositioning strange men (or women), but is culturally appropriate, safe, and even respectful and fun. I'm writing, of course, of Hyphen's SPEED YOUR LOVE speed dating fundraiser, a fundraiser important enough to Hyphen for me to feel that I have a right to bust in on someone else's blog day (although I restrained myself, and didn't -- I'm just busting in on my own blog day).
Last year, when we started speed dating, we were asked why we felt that this was an appropriate event for a magazine such as Hyphen to organize. Recently, this discussion has come up again within our staff, especially with regard to the question: do we really want Hyphen to be associated with a frivolous dating event? I think Jennifer answered this best:
"Dating is an important part of life, especially for our readers. For a lot of people, dating is the MOST important thing. I don't think we should dismiss that as frivolous, because it's about a very innate part of most human's lives, mating. It's also about connecting with people and providing those connections between others. Culturally, our people have used matchmakers or go-betweens, parental input and blind dates. In a society that has grown fragmented, Hyphen is not only trying to create a community but trying to fill some of those vital functions. So Hyphen is actually fulfilling a real need. We like speed dating because it's safe, it's fun, it's affirmative."
Of course dating, even event organizing, is not Hyphen's primary purpose, but we certainly don't mind throwing some action your way if it'll make us money. And it will, if you participate! To find out what speed dating is all about, read our event announcement here, or our event FAQ here. To register, go here.
And don't forget: if you don't find anybody, you can still try hanging out on street corners!
p.s.: Here's a testimonial from one of last year's speed daters who will be celebrating a one-year anniversary soon. Congrats Sid and Anita!
"I went speeddating not knowing who I would meet, but met a politically active Asian American feminist woman who, in the name of subverting the dominant white male paradigm, loves to cook, clean, and give massages for her Asian American man. Even after a whole year of being together she's still loving it and everyday I love her more and more." -Sid,speedater #86
Posted by claire at 1:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
... in all the wrong places? Me too. *Sigh*. I'll never forget my confusion when I discovered that driving slowly past single men walking down the street and propositioning them loudly out the window was considered culturally inappropriate. How am I supposed to meet men now?
If you have a similar problem, let us play matchmaker for you! I'm organizing an event in two weeks which not only takes the guesswork out of propositioning strange men (or women), but is culturally appropriate, safe, and even respectful and fun. I'm writing, of course, of Hyphen's SPEED YOUR LOVE speed dating fundraiser, a fundraiser important enough to Hyphen for me to feel that I have a right to bust in on someone else's blog day (although I restrained myself, and didn't -- I'm just busting in on my own blog day).
Last year, when we started speed dating, we were asked why we felt that this was an appropriate event for a magazine such as Hyphen to organize. Recently, this discussion has come up again within our staff, especially with regard to the question: do we really want Hyphen to be associated with a frivolous dating event? I think Jennifer answered this best:
"Dating is an important part of life, especially for our readers. For a lot of people, dating is the MOST important thing. I don't think we should dismiss that as frivolous, because it's about a very innate part of most human's lives, mating. It's also about connecting with people and providing those connections between others. Culturally, our people have used matchmakers or go-betweens, parental input and blind dates. In a society that has grown fragmented, Hyphen is not only trying to create a community but trying to fill some of those vital functions. So Hyphen is actually fulfilling a real need. We like speed dating because it's safe, it's fun, it's affirmative."
Of course dating, even event organizing, is not Hyphen's primary purpose, but we certainly don't mind throwing some action your way if it'll make us money. And it will, if you participate! To find out what speed dating is all about, read our event announcement here, or our event FAQ here. To register, go here.
And don't forget: if you don't find anybody, you can still try hanging out on street corners!
p.s.: Here's a testimonial from one of last year's speed daters who will be celebrating a one-year anniversary soon. Congrats Sid and Anita!
"I went speeddating not knowing who I would meet, but met a politically active Asian American feminist woman who, in the name of subverting the dominant white male paradigm, loves to cook, clean, and give massages for her Asian American man. Even after a whole year of being together she's still loving it and everyday I love her more and more." -Sid,speedater #86
Posted by claire at 1:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
... in all the wrong places? Me too. *Sigh*. I'll never forget my confusion when I discovered that driving slowly past single men walking down the street and propositioning them loudly out the window was considered culturally inappropriate. How am I supposed to meet men now?
If you have a similar problem, let us play matchmaker for you! I'm organizing an event in two weeks which not only takes the guesswork out of propositioning strange men (or women), but is culturally appropriate, safe, and even respectful and fun. I'm writing, of course, of Hyphen's SPEED YOUR LOVE speed dating fundraiser, a fundraiser important enough to Hyphen for me to feel that I have a right to bust in on someone else's blog day (although I restrained myself, and didn't -- I'm just busting in on my own blog day).
Last year, when we started speed dating, we were asked why we felt that this was an appropriate event for a magazine such as Hyphen to organize. Recently, this discussion has come up again within our staff, especially with regard to the question: do we really want Hyphen to be associated with a frivolous dating event? I think Jennifer answered this best:
"Dating is an important part of life, especially for our readers. For a lot of people, dating is the MOST important thing. I don't think we should dismiss that as frivolous, because it's about a very innate part of most human's lives, mating. It's also about connecting with people and providing those connections between others. Culturally, our people have used matchmakers or go-betweens, parental input and blind dates. In a society that has grown fragmented, Hyphen is not only trying to create a community but trying to fill some of those vital functions. So Hyphen is actually fulfilling a real need. We like speed dating because it's safe, it's fun, it's affirmative."
Of course dating, even event organizing, is not Hyphen's primary purpose, but we certainly don't mind throwing some action your way if it'll make us money. And it will, if you participate! To find out what speed dating is all about, read our event announcement here, or our event FAQ here. To register, go here.
And don't forget: if you don't find anybody, you can still try hanging out on street corners!
p.s.: Here's a testimonial from one of last year's speed daters who will be celebrating a one-year anniversary soon. Congrats Sid and Anita!
"I went speeddating not knowing who I would meet, but met a politically active Asian American feminist woman who, in the name of subverting the dominant white male paradigm, loves to cook, clean, and give massages for her Asian American man. Even after a whole year of being together she's still loving it and everyday I love her more and more." -Sid,speedater #86
Posted by claire at 1:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I got the most recent issue of Entertainment Weekly for this week. It's one of my "guilty pleasure" magazine reads, that I actually have a subscription for.
EN never ceases to amaze me with the (underground) hip-hop albums they review. (Hello, did you catch Buck 65?) Last week I was pleased to read a review for Haruki Murakami's new book Kafka on the Shore. And this week there's an article on books about stupid American tourists in Asia.
They mention Thai American writer Rattawut Lapcharoensap's Sightseeing. I was disturbed that EN didn't rate it at least a "B+," because I bought the book last week and was so engrossed by it, that I read it in two evening sittings.
That's enough for today, I'm off to my evening class!
Posted by Audrey at 5:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I got the most recent issue of Entertainment Weekly for this week. It's one of my "guilty pleasure" magazine reads, that I actually have a subscription for.
EN never ceases to amaze me with the (underground) hip-hop albums they review. (Hello, did you catch Buck 65?) Last week I was pleased to read a review for Haruki Murakami's new book Kafka on the Shore. And this week there's an article on books about stupid American tourists in Asia.
They mention Thai American writer Rattawut Lapcharoensap's Sightseeing. I was disturbed that EN didn't rate it at least a "B+," because I bought the book last week and was so engrossed by it, that I read it in two evening sittings.
That's enough for today, I'm off to my evening class!
Posted by Audrey at 5:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I got the most recent issue of Entertainment Weekly for this week. It's one of my "guilty pleasure" magazine reads, that I actually have a subscription for.
EN never ceases to amaze me with the (underground) hip-hop albums they review. (Hello, did you catch Buck 65?) Last week I was pleased to read a review for Haruki Murakami's new book Kafka on the Shore. And this week there's an article on books about stupid American tourists in Asia.
They mention Thai American writer Rattawut Lapcharoensap's Sightseeing. I was disturbed that EN didn't rate it at least a "B+," because I bought the book last week and was so engrossed by it, that I read it in two evening sittings.
That's enough for today, I'm off to my evening class!
Posted by Audrey at 5:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
When it rains, it pours: These next few weeks will be a shit storm of Hyphen happenings coming your way! This week has been all about relentless e-tag and phone-tag, trying to set up speaking engagements and locking down details for events. (And I'm only talking February, here. March is something else altogether.)
As far as interviews and public speaking go, I've been pretty hands off thus far because I've been so burdened by other publisher duties. Having to sit and prepare talking points and psyche myself out to be on good behavior in public just wasn't a priority in 2004. However, next month I throw caution to the wind and, as one of the leaders of your beloved rag, shall do my share of public speaking. I shall also leave the comfort of my home (default Hyphen office) and party with the kiddies (staff) for a good cause.
Friday night I will be tabling with other Hyphen staffers at Varnish Gallery in San Francisco for a fundraiser to aid victims of the tsunami. Check the details:
January 28th 2005
Varnish Gallery
9pm-1am
77 Natoma Street
San Francisco, CA
There will be a $15 cover. All proceeds will be donated to the victims of the tsunami disaster in Indonesia and Sri Lanka through: oneSriLanka Foundation, Padi Nasunthara, and United Way (Tsunami Aid for Sri Lanka).
Saturday I will be tabling solo at the second annual Asian American Music Conference in Burlingame. Please drop by and say Hi and come check out performances by some great up-and-coming Asian American talent! (On the same day, you can catch my roommate/Hyphen's editor in chief, Melissa Hung, at the Defining a New Reader panel at 2 PM for the Independent Press Association's conference.)
Even better, on Thursday, February 3rd I will (play hooky from my evening class) speak at a panel for South Bay First Thursdays ( the sister organization to San Francisco's Third Thursdays). Since February is the Hallmark Month of Love and Hyphen is holding our annual speed dating fundraiser on Saturday, February 12 (have you registered yet?), it seems fitting that I drop my two cents on a panel titled "Man Jose: Dating Challenges in the South Bay." It should be an interesting discussion. I hardly feel like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex & The City, but this is a favor I owe Christine and Gracie at CATS and SBFT.
And finally, on Saturday, February 19, Chris Fan (Hyphen's Special Agent on the East Coast) and I will be in attendance at the East Coast Asian American Student Union conference in Philadelphia, at the University of Pennsylvania. Specifics are still being worked out, but Chris and I will be participating in a Q & A about Asian American media and social change. (I wonder if I'll have a Mountain Brothers sighting while I'm in Philly?)
Generally I like to be incognito--behind the scenes. But I suppose as the publisher of a magazine, that's a contradiction. I'll look at this as my "debut." I like to make new friends, so I hope to see you all in attendance at any of these upcoming events! Hyphen is friendly--we don't bite!
Posted by Audrey at 2:56 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
When it rains, it pours: These next few weeks will be a shit storm of Hyphen happenings coming your way! This week has been all about relentless e-tag and phone-tag, trying to set up speaking engagements and locking down details for events. (And I'm only talking February, here. March is something else altogether.)
As far as interviews and public speaking go, I've been pretty hands off thus far because I've been so burdened by other publisher duties. Having to sit and prepare talking points and psyche myself out to be on good behavior in public just wasn't a priority in 2004. However, next month I throw caution to the wind and, as one of the leaders of your beloved rag, shall do my share of public speaking. I shall also leave the comfort of my home (default Hyphen office) and party with the kiddies (staff) for a good cause.
Friday night I will be tabling with other Hyphen staffers at Varnish Gallery in San Francisco for a fundraiser to aid victims of the tsunami. Check the details:
January 28th 2005
Varnish Gallery
9pm-1am
77 Natoma Street
San Francisco, CA
There will be a $15 cover. All proceeds will be donated to the victims of the tsunami disaster in Indonesia and Sri Lanka through: oneSriLanka Foundation, Padi Nasunthara, and United Way (Tsunami Aid for Sri Lanka).
Saturday I will be tabling solo at the second annual Asian American Music Conference in Burlingame. Please drop by and say Hi and come check out performances by some great up-and-coming Asian American talent! (On the same day, you can catch my roommate/Hyphen's editor in chief, Melissa Hung, at the Defining a New Reader panel at 2 PM for the Independent Press Association's conference.)
Even better, on Thursday, February 3rd I will (play hooky from my evening class) speak at a panel for South Bay First Thursdays ( the sister organization to San Francisco's Third Thursdays). Since February is the Hallmark Month of Love and Hyphen is holding our annual speed dating fundraiser on Saturday, February 12 (have you registered yet?), it seems fitting that I drop my two cents on a panel titled "Man Jose: Dating Challenges in the South Bay." It should be an interesting discussion. I hardly feel like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex & The City, but this is a favor I owe Christine and Gracie at CATS and SBFT.
And finally, on Saturday, February 19, Chris Fan (Hyphen's Special Agent on the East Coast) and I will be in attendance at the East Coast Asian American Student Union conference in Philadelphia, at the University of Pennsylvania. Specifics are still being worked out, but Chris and I will be participating in a Q & A about Asian American media and social change. (I wonder if I'll have a Mountain Brothers sighting while I'm in Philly?)
Generally I like to be incognito--behind the scenes. But I suppose as the publisher of a magazine, that's a contradiction. I'll look at this as my "debut." I like to make new friends, so I hope to see you all in attendance at any of these upcoming events! Hyphen is friendly--we don't bite!
Posted by Audrey at 2:56 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
When it rains, it pours: These next few weeks will be a shit storm of Hyphen happenings coming your way! This week has been all about relentless e-tag and phone-tag, trying to set up speaking engagements and locking down details for events. (And I'm only talking February, here. March is something else altogether.)
As far as interviews and public speaking go, I've been pretty hands off thus far because I've been so burdened by other publisher duties. Having to sit and prepare talking points and psyche myself out to be on good behavior in public just wasn't a priority in 2004. However, next month I throw caution to the wind and, as one of the leaders of your beloved rag, shall do my share of public speaking. I shall also leave the comfort of my home (default Hyphen office) and party with the kiddies (staff) for a good cause.
Friday night I will be tabling with other Hyphen staffers at Varnish Gallery in San Francisco for a fundraiser to aid victims of the tsunami. Check the details:
January 28th 2005
Varnish Gallery
9pm-1am
77 Natoma Street
San Francisco, CA
There will be a $15 cover. All proceeds will be donated to the victims of the tsunami disaster in Indonesia and Sri Lanka through: oneSriLanka Foundation, Padi Nasunthara, and United Way (Tsunami Aid for Sri Lanka).
Saturday I will be tabling solo at the second annual Asian American Music Conference in Burlingame. Please drop by and say Hi and come check out performances by some great up-and-coming Asian American talent! (On the same day, you can catch my roommate/Hyphen's editor in chief, Melissa Hung, at the Defining a New Reader panel at 2 PM for the Independent Press Association's conference.)
Even better, on Thursday, February 3rd I will (play hooky from my evening class) speak at a panel for South Bay First Thursdays ( the sister organization to San Francisco's Third Thursdays). Since February is the Hallmark Month of Love and Hyphen is holding our annual speed dating fundraiser on Saturday, February 12 (have you registered yet?), it seems fitting that I drop my two cents on a panel titled "Man Jose: Dating Challenges in the South Bay." It should be an interesting discussion. I hardly feel like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex & The City, but this is a favor I owe Christine and Gracie at CATS and SBFT.
And finally, on Saturday, February 19, Chris Fan (Hyphen's Special Agent on the East Coast) and I will be in attendance at the East Coast Asian American Student Union conference in Philadelphia, at the University of Pennsylvania. Specifics are still being worked out, but Chris and I will be participating in a Q & A about Asian American media and social change. (I wonder if I'll have a Mountain Brothers sighting while I'm in Philly?)
Generally I like to be incognito--behind the scenes. But I suppose as the publisher of a magazine, that's a contradiction. I'll look at this as my "debut." I like to make new friends, so I hope to see you all in attendance at any of these upcoming events! Hyphen is friendly--we don't bite!
Posted by Audrey at 2:56 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
You've probably heard of it by now, but if not, the latest in racist "shock" radio news is the universally offensive "Tsunami Song" which was airing on NYC's Hot 97 for the past few weeks. Check out some of the lyrics:
"You could hear the screaming chinks and no one was safe from the wave
There were Africans drowning, little Chinamen swept away
You could hear god laughing, 'swim you bitches swim'
So now you're screwed, it's the Tsunami
You better run or kiss your ass away, go find your mommy
I just saw her float by, a tree went through her head
and now the children will be sold to child slavery..."
Listen to the song, which pretty much speaks for itself. Or listen to the clip of the Hot 97 morning show in which Asian American co-host Miss Info is slammed for voicing her objection to the song.
Hot 97 has since issued a lame apology, but you can also sign an online petition or contact any one of the station's sponsors.
Posted by Lisa at 6:13 PM | Comments (25) | TrackBack
You've probably heard of it by now, but if not, the latest in racist "shock" radio news is the universally offensive "Tsunami Song" which was airing on NYC's Hot 97 for the past few weeks. Check out some of the lyrics:
"You could hear the screaming chinks and no one was safe from the wave
There were Africans drowning, little Chinamen swept away
You could hear god laughing, 'swim you bitches swim'
So now you're screwed, it's the Tsunami
You better run or kiss your ass away, go find your mommy
I just saw her float by, a tree went through her head
and now the children will be sold to child slavery..."
Listen to the song, which pretty much speaks for itself. Or listen to the clip of the Hot 97 morning show in which Asian American co-host Miss Info is slammed for voicing her objection to the song.
Hot 97 has since issued a lame apology, but you can also sign an online petition or contact any one of the station's sponsors.
Posted by Lisa at 6:13 PM | Comments (25) | TrackBack
You've probably heard of it by now, but if not, the latest in racist "shock" radio news is the universally offensive "Tsunami Song" which was airing on NYC's Hot 97 for the past few weeks. Check out some of the lyrics:
"You could hear the screaming chinks and no one was safe from the wave
There were Africans drowning, little Chinamen swept away
You could hear god laughing, 'swim you bitches swim'
So now you're screwed, it's the Tsunami
You better run or kiss your ass away, go find your mommy
I just saw her float by, a tree went through her head
and now the children will be sold to child slavery..."
Listen to the song, which pretty much speaks for itself. Or listen to the clip of the Hot 97 morning show in which Asian American co-host Miss Info is slammed for voicing her objection to the song.
Hot 97 has since issued a lame apology, but you can also sign an online petition or contact any one of the station's sponsors.
Posted by Lisa at 6:13 PM | Comments (25) | TrackBack
I share an office here at work, and like all office-sharers, Jane (not her real name) and I share a lot of laughs. She reads out quotes from Martin of the Simpsons ("Miss Hoover, my worm went in my mouth so i ate it.") prints out the 2005 David Hasselhoff calendar, and plays an eclectic collection of music that alternatively soothes, grates, and entertains.
Recently she pulled out the Neil Diamond. I've alway thought of Neil Diamond as sappy music played by lonely women in their fifties, but I don't pay attention to such things. Now, listening to the lyrics, I've learned the Neil is a bigoted ass.
In his song, "Free Life" Neil says, "Sing it like a black man...I'm talking about round, brown women... it don't matter if she's a belle, we'll just have a time." Other songs talk about getting with "a poor man's woman," and generally have the attitude of a white man sampling the women of the world.
Which is nothing new, of course. The thing is, Jane, who is white, is the one that pointed this out to me. "This is so racist!" she says with a laugh. And continues playing it. And plays it for other colleagues who come to chat in our room. "Check out how racist this is!" she says, and we all laugh.
The idea of course, is that we're so enlightened, we're so post-racism, post-PC that we can laugh about it. But can we?
I felt the same conflict when I went to go see Kate Rigg's Chinkorama a few years ago. It was a first and last date because the guy couldn't figure out why I wasn't laughing my ass off. He seemed to think I was a humorless wench or something.
Basically, the show was the reenactment of every bad asian stereotype you've ever heard of. Polynesian tiki girls and dragon lady seductresses and the whole bit. According to her website,
"Kate's Chink-O-Rama deconstructs, repositions, ridicules, explodes, embodies, satirizes, re-visions, dissects, reconstructs addresses, discusses, challenges images of Asian America found in pop culture and mass media.... it's a comedy music revue in the style of In Living Color, but with a decidedly asian slant.
And on a level, I'm sure it was all these things. Rigg is very politically aware and expressed that in her show. But looking around at the mostly caucasian audience, I had the uncomfortable feeling that at another level, it was just a bunch white people laughing at the brown people aping themselves.
Is that okay because it was San Francisco, and the population is supposedly more politically enlightened? Are they, really?
Would it be called into question more if it were rural Kentuckians yukking it up? What if it were African Americans? What if it were all Asians?
That raises that unanswerable question, who is allowed to make fun of who's group? And then someone points out that black people can use the n-word and nobody else can, but some white people who have grown up in the hood feel they can, and if Joe is fluent in Chinese than why can't he laugh at the falling-down nerd skit?
Well here's my humorless answer: I don't think we're there yet. With neo-nazi's targeting Asians in Minnesota, with AA representation in the mainstream media limited to the same narrow, tired, roles, with 30% or whatever Americans saying they don't trust Asians, with the repeal of the Chinese Exclusion Act less than 100 years away, I don't think Americans have the cultural understanding, sensitivity, and interconnectedness to put on the blackface, make their eyes squinty and their teeth buck, or call their sports teams "the Braves."
I don't think we're far enough away from the colonist attitudes of convert and civilize.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Neil Diamond.
Posted by jennifer at 2:55 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
I share an office here at work, and like all office-sharers, Jane (not her real name) and I share a lot of laughs. She reads out quotes from Martin of the Simpsons ("Miss Hoover, my worm went in my mouth so i ate it.") prints out the 2005 David Hasselhoff calendar, and plays an eclectic collection of music that alternatively soothes, grates, and entertains.
Recently she pulled out the Neil Diamond. I've alway thought of Neil Diamond as sappy music played by lonely women in their fifties, but I don't pay attention to such things. Now, listening to the lyrics, I've learned the Neil is a bigoted ass.
In his song, "Free Life" Neil says, "Sing it like a black man...I'm talking about round, brown women... it don't matter if she's a belle, we'll just have a time." Other songs talk about getting with "a poor man's woman," and generally have the attitude of a white man sampling the women of the world.
Which is nothing new, of course. The thing is, Jane, who is white, is the one that pointed this out to me. "This is so racist!" she says with a laugh. And continues playing it. And plays it for other colleagues who come to chat in our room. "Check out how racist this is!" she says, and we all laugh.
The idea of course, is that we're so enlightened, we're so post-racism, post-PC that we can laugh about it. But can we?
I felt the same conflict when I went to go see Kate Rigg's Chinkorama a few years ago. It was a first and last date because the guy couldn't figure out why I wasn't laughing my ass off. He seemed to think I was a humorless wench or something.
Basically, the show was the reenactment of every bad asian stereotype you've ever heard of. Polynesian tiki girls and dragon lady seductresses and the whole bit. According to her website,
"Kate's Chink-O-Rama deconstructs, repositions, ridicules, explodes, embodies, satirizes, re-visions, dissects, reconstructs addresses, discusses, challenges images of Asian America found in pop culture and mass media.... it's a comedy music revue in the style of In Living Color, but with a decidedly asian slant.
And on a level, I'm sure it was all these things. Rigg is very politically aware and expressed that in her show. But looking around at the mostly caucasian audience, I had the uncomfortable feeling that at another level, it was just a bunch white people laughing at the brown people aping themselves.
Is that okay because it was San Francisco, and the population is supposedly more politically enlightened? Are they, really?
Would it be called into question more if it were rural Kentuckians yukking it up? What if it were African Americans? What if it were all Asians?
That raises that unanswerable question, who is allowed to make fun of who's group? And then someone points out that black people can use the n-word and nobody else can, but some white people who have grown up in the hood feel they can, and if Joe is fluent in Chinese than why can't he laugh at the falling-down nerd skit?
Well here's my humorless answer: I don't think we're there yet. With neo-nazi's targeting Asians in Minnesota, with AA representation in the mainstream media limited to the same narrow, tired, roles, with 30% or whatever Americans saying they don't trust Asians, with the repeal of the Chinese Exclusion Act less than 100 years away, I don't think Americans have the cultural understanding, sensitivity, and interconnectedness to put on the blackface, make their eyes squinty and their teeth buck, or call their sports teams "the Braves."
I don't think we're far enough away from the colonist attitudes of convert and civilize.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Neil Diamond.
Posted by jennifer at 2:55 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
I share an office here at work, and like all office-sharers, Jane (not her real name) and I share a lot of laughs. She reads out quotes from Martin of the Simpsons ("Miss Hoover, my worm went in my mouth so i ate it.") prints out the 2005 David Hasselhoff calendar, and plays an eclectic collection of music that alternatively soothes, grates, and entertains.
Recently she pulled out the Neil Diamond. I've alway thought of Neil Diamond as sappy music played by lonely women in their fifties, but I don't pay attention to such things. Now, listening to the lyrics, I've learned the Neil is a bigoted ass.
In his song, "Free Life" Neil says, "Sing it like a black man...I'm talking about round, brown women... it don't matter if she's a belle, we'll just have a time." Other songs talk about getting with "a poor man's woman," and generally have the attitude of a white man sampling the women of the world.
Which is nothing new, of course. The thing is, Jane, who is white, is the one that pointed this out to me. "This is so racist!" she says with a laugh. And continues playing it. And plays it for other colleagues who come to chat in our room. "Check out how racist this is!" she says, and we all laugh.
The idea of course, is that we're so enlightened, we're so post-racism, post-PC that we can laugh about it. But can we?
I felt the same conflict when I went to go see Kate Rigg's Chinkorama a few years ago. It was a first and last date because the guy couldn't figure out why I wasn't laughing my ass off. He seemed to think I was a humorless wench or something.
Basically, the show was the reenactment of every bad asian stereotype you've ever heard of. Polynesian tiki girls and dragon lady seductresses and the whole bit. According to her website,
"Kate's Chink-O-Rama deconstructs, repositions, ridicules, explodes, embodies, satirizes, re-visions, dissects, reconstructs addresses, discusses, challenges images of Asian America found in pop culture and mass media.... it's a comedy music revue in the style of In Living Color, but with a decidedly asian slant.
And on a level, I'm sure it was all these things. Rigg is very politically aware and expressed that in her show. But looking around at the mostly caucasian audience, I had the uncomfortable feeling that at another level, it was just a bunch white people laughing at the brown people aping themselves.
Is that okay because it was San Francisco, and the population is supposedly more politically enlightened? Are they, really?
Would it be called into question more if it were rural Kentuckians yukking it up? What if it were African Americans? What if it were all Asians?
That raises that unanswerable question, who is allowed to make fun of who's group? And then someone points out that black people can use the n-word and nobody else can, but some white people who have grown up in the hood feel they can, and if Joe is fluent in Chinese than why can't he laugh at the falling-down nerd skit?
Well here's my humorless answer: I don't think we're there yet. With neo-nazi's targeting Asians in Minnesota, with AA representation in the mainstream media limited to the same narrow, tired, roles, with 30% or whatever Americans saying they don't trust Asians, with the repeal of the Chinese Exclusion Act less than 100 years away, I don't think Americans have the cultural understanding, sensitivity, and interconnectedness to put on the blackface, make their eyes squinty and their teeth buck, or call their sports teams "the Braves."
I don't think we're far enough away from the colonist attitudes of convert and civilize.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Neil Diamond.
Posted by jennifer at 2:55 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
Sorry to bust in on your day, Mel, but I missed this one last week:
A Minneapolis-based Nazi group was posting fliers last week with pictures of the slain Wisconsin hunters and a caption asking if "diversity" was worth even one American life. Scary, since I usually trust my fellow humans to reject the rhetoric of the extremists, but in these times ... I don't know. Read more here.
Posted by claire at 4:36 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack
Sorry to bust in on your day, Mel, but I missed this one last week:
A Minneapolis-based Nazi group was posting fliers last week with pictures of the slain Wisconsin hunters and a caption asking if "diversity" was worth even one American life. Scary, since I usually trust my fellow humans to reject the rhetoric of the extremists, but in these times ... I don't know. Read more here.
Posted by claire at 4:36 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack
Sorry to bust in on your day, Mel, but I missed this one last week:
A Minneapolis-based Nazi group was posting fliers last week with pictures of the slain Wisconsin hunters and a caption asking if "diversity" was worth even one American life. Scary, since I usually trust my fellow humans to reject the rhetoric of the extremists, but in these times ... I don't know. Read more here.
Posted by claire at 4:36 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack
I go to the post office quite often -- at least once a week. If you've subscribed in the last 6 months, I'm the one who most likely mailed your magazine. I send them out in small batches because a) they're heavy and I carry them by hand with me to work (a good 20 minute walk) and visit the post office during my lunch break and b) I don't want the postal workers at the counter to hate me for bringing in so much stuff because they have to press all these buttons on the machine just to calculate the postage for one item at a certain rate.
The last time I was there, they had the new lunar new year stamps on sale. This year though, they offered not just the Year of the Rooster stamp, but the whole zodiac. The sheet is double sided, so there is a complete set of 12 animals on one side and a mirror image on the other side. Guess what 24 times 37 cents is? $8.88, of course.
For those of you who aren't Chinese -- the number eight in Chinese rhymes with the word for wealthy, thus 8 is a lucky number. I bet the US Postal Service is doing brisk business with these. Also, when I was at Target last weekend, I noticed they were selling red envelopes in the card ailse. The Happy New Year salutation was written in phonetic Mandarin. If they'd done their homework, they would have known that the Chinese in this area are mostly Cantonese speakers. Then again, I don't think Canto folk are going to Target to obtain their little red envelopes. Still, it's nice to see different cultures getting noticed in the larger world of general American commerce. And I'm not talking about the Global Bazaar home furnishing line that Target's been pushing lately with the safari themed decorations and Asiany baskets and pillows.
Posted by Melissa at 3:29 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
I go to the post office quite often -- at least once a week. If you've subscribed in the last 6 months, I'm the one who most likely mailed your magazine. I send them out in small batches because a) they're heavy and I carry them by hand with me to work (a good 20 minute walk) and visit the post office during my lunch break and b) I don't want the postal workers at the counter to hate me for bringing in so much stuff because they have to press all these buttons on the machine just to calculate the postage for one item at a certain rate.
The last time I was there, they had the new lunar new year stamps on sale. This year though, they offered not just the Year of the Rooster stamp, but the whole zodiac. The sheet is double sided, so there is a complete set of 12 animals on one side and a mirror image on the other side. Guess what 24 times 37 cents is? $8.88, of course.
For those of you who aren't Chinese -- the number eight in Chinese rhymes with the word for wealthy, thus 8 is a lucky number. I bet the US Postal Service is doing brisk business with these. Also, when I was at Target last weekend, I noticed they were selling red envelopes in the card ailse. The Happy New Year salutation was written in phonetic Mandarin. If they'd done their homework, they would have known that the Chinese in this area are mostly Cantonese speakers. Then again, I don't think Canto folk are going to Target to obtain their little red envelopes. Still, it's nice to see different cultures getting noticed in the larger world of general American commerce. And I'm not talking about the Global Bazaar home furnishing line that Target's been pushing lately with the safari themed decorations and Asiany baskets and pillows.
Posted by Melissa at 3:29 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
I go to the post office quite often -- at least once a week. If you've subscribed in the last 6 months, I'm the one who most likely mailed your magazine. I send them out in small batches because a) they're heavy and I carry them by hand with me to work (a good 20 minute walk) and visit the post office during my lunch break and b) I don't want the postal workers at the counter to hate me for bringing in so much stuff because they have to press all these buttons on the machine just to calculate the postage for one item at a certain rate.
The last time I was there, they had the new lunar new year stamps on sale. This year though, they offered not just the Year of the Rooster stamp, but the whole zodiac. The sheet is double sided, so there is a complete set of 12 animals on one side and a mirror image on the other side. Guess what 24 times 37 cents is? $8.88, of course.
For those of you who aren't Chinese -- the number eight in Chinese rhymes with the word for wealthy, thus 8 is a lucky number. I bet the US Postal Service is doing brisk business with these. Also, when I was at Target last weekend, I noticed they were selling red envelopes in the card ailse. The Happy New Year salutation was written in phonetic Mandarin. If they'd done their homework, they would have known that the Chinese in this area are mostly Cantonese speakers. Then again, I don't think Canto folk are going to Target to obtain their little red envelopes. Still, it's nice to see different cultures getting noticed in the larger world of general American commerce. And I'm not talking about the Global Bazaar home furnishing line that Target's been pushing lately with the safari themed decorations and Asiany baskets and pillows.
Posted by Melissa at 3:29 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
The world is a vampire.
Okay, now that I have your attention, here's some news.
Hive mind: Iranian American architect Nader Khalili has designed "super adobe" dome houses that, with a little training, tsunami victims could construct for themselves in a matter of days. The main building component? Special sandbags filled with native mud. Why aren't these being built everywhere as we speak? Bureaucracy.
Give a man a fish ... : A study of elderly Japanese American men has revealed a link between weight loss and early onset of dementia. Let's try that again: poor nutrition = early dementia, especially if your grandpa is JA.
But we warned her not to make us mad: A female Iranian American Echostar Executive has filed a lawsuit against her former company for racial and gender discrimination. Allegedly, her boss used to yell at her and humiliate her in front of the other execs. I have nothing flippant or outraged to say about this, except keep an eye on this one.
Am I the only one who finds this scary?: Filipino American officers from the San Francisco Police Department have begun an exchange program with brother officers in the Philippines to exchange techniques 'n' stuff. Against all odds, that doesn't make me feel safer. Wonder what they're doing in their off hours.
Posted by claire at 11:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
The world is a vampire.
Okay, now that I have your attention, here's some news.
Hive mind: Iranian American architect Nader Khalili has designed "super adobe" dome houses that, with a little training, tsunami victims could construct for themselves in a matter of days. The main building component? Special sandbags filled with native mud. Why aren't these being built everywhere as we speak? Bureaucracy.
Give a man a fish ... : A study of elderly Japanese American men has revealed a link between weight loss and early onset of dementia. Let's try that again: poor nutrition = early dementia, especially if your grandpa is JA.
But we warned her not to make us mad: A female Iranian American Echostar Executive has filed a lawsuit against her former company for racial and gender discrimination. Allegedly, her boss used to yell at her and humiliate her in front of the other execs. I have nothing flippant or outraged to say about this, except keep an eye on this one.
Am I the only one who finds this scary?: Filipino American officers from the San Francisco Police Department have begun an exchange program with brother officers in the Philippines to exchange techniques 'n' stuff. Against all odds, that doesn't make me feel safer. Wonder what they're doing in their off hours.
Posted by claire at 11:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
The world is a vampire.
Okay, now that I have your attention, here's some news.
Hive mind: Iranian American architect Nader Khalili has designed "super adobe" dome houses that, with a little training, tsunami victims could construct for themselves in a matter of days. The main building component? Special sandbags filled with native mud. Why aren't these being built everywhere as we speak? Bureaucracy.
Give a man a fish ... : A study of elderly Japanese American men has revealed a link between weight loss and early onset of dementia. Let's try that again: poor nutrition = early dementia, especially if your grandpa is JA.
But we warned her not to make us mad: A female Iranian American Echostar Executive has filed a lawsuit against her former company for racial and gender discrimination. Allegedly, her boss used to yell at her and humiliate her in front of the other execs. I have nothing flippant or outraged to say about this, except keep an eye on this one.
Am I the only one who finds this scary?: Filipino American officers from the San Francisco Police Department have begun an exchange program with brother officers in the Philippines to exchange techniques 'n' stuff. Against all odds, that doesn't make me feel safer. Wonder what they're doing in their off hours.
Posted by claire at 11:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Sorry to hooride on your day to blog, Todd, but I couldn't get my airport wireless to connect to the Internet last night. (Sometimes I wish I hadn't done the Mac "switch.")
While I was in San Diego with my extended family for the holidays, my younger cousins hipped me to a "new term" that I hadn't heard before: "Asian Persuasion." It's a "nicer" sounding version of "Yellow Fever," I suppose. (Well, I much prefer it to "Asian-izing" other words like "UrbanizAzn," etc.)
Upon my return home to the Bay Area, I read an email that Big Brother Todd sent me ("Get in touch with your inner Karizma Kapoor!") with a link to this Bollywood "finishing school" type deal, and it made me wonder if my new "obsession" with Bollywood constitutes a "South Asian Persuasion?"
Just as I said I would in my Hapa Thanksgiving, Dreamy Shahrukh entry, I've been watching ONLY Bollywood DVDs from Netflix the past three months. (Now that my queue of Bollywood films are over, Netflix is sending me a Spike Lee retrospective, refresher series [School Daze, Do The Right Thing, Bamboozled, Mo' Better Blues, etc.].) And just like I said he would, my friend T took me down to Fremont before Christmas to see Shahrukh Khan in Swades.
What I'm really excited for, is next month's release of Gurinder Chadha's Bride and Prejudice. Last Friday my best friend Y and I were talking about Bollywood films and Aishwarya Rai (the lead actress in Bride and Prejudice). She mentioned how she'd seen a segment on Bollywood coming to Hollywood on Dateline NBC. She was laughing at how Netflix created a new Friendster-like feature in which friends can see each other's movie queues and read movie recommendations. Of course a lot of mine were for Bollywood films starring Shahrukh Khan.
A couple weeks ago I had a long catch-up phone convo with my other best friend S, who'd just returned from spending the holidays in India (she was far from the tsunami, thank goodness). She just recently found out about my Shahrukh Khan crush from our mutual friend (and fellow Hyphen staffer) Neela. "Am I going to have to take you to South Asian parties the next time you come out to NYC, so you can meet a Desi guy?" she asked me.
I dunno. My "South Asian Persuasion" isn't necessarily about having this "fetish" for South Asian men (though maybe I'm wrong because I do have a "crush" on Shahrukh Khan), but for the flamboyant and vibrant Bollywood films. Although I once in a while have a craving for Indian food and I own a black kurta (blouse) (it was only ever worn when Gurinder Chadha's Bend it Like Beckham was Opening Night for the SFIAAFF), I don't think of my interest in Bollywood being the same as some "outsider" exoticizing women of a certain race (which is what most of us think of when we make the accusation of "Yellow Fever").
Or am I completely wrong here?
Posted by Audrey at 12:39 PM | Comments (30) | TrackBack
Sorry to hooride on your day to blog, Todd, but I couldn't get my airport wireless to connect to the Internet last night. (Sometimes I wish I hadn't done the Mac "switch.")
While I was in San Diego with my extended family for the holidays, my younger cousins hipped me to a "new term" that I hadn't heard before: "Asian Persuasion." It's a "nicer" sounding version of "Yellow Fever," I suppose. (Well, I much prefer it to "Asian-izing" other words like "UrbanizAzn," etc.)
Upon my return home to the Bay Area, I read an email that Big Brother Todd sent me ("Get in touch with your inner Karizma Kapoor!") with a link to this Bollywood "finishing school" type deal, and it made me wonder if my new "obsession" with Bollywood constitutes a "South Asian Persuasion?"
Just as I said I would in my Hapa Thanksgiving, Dreamy Shahrukh entry, I've been watching ONLY Bollywood DVDs from Netflix the past three months. (Now that my queue of Bollywood films are over, Netflix is sending me a Spike Lee retrospective, refresher series [School Daze, Do The Right Thing, Bamboozled, Mo' Better Blues, etc.].) And just like I said he would, my friend T took me down to Fremont before Christmas to see Shahrukh Khan in Swades.
What I'm really excited for, is next month's release of Gurinder Chadha's Bride and Prejudice. Last Friday my best friend Y and I were talking about Bollywood films and Aishwarya Rai (the lead actress in Bride and Prejudice). She mentioned how she'd seen a segment on Bollywood coming to Hollywood on Dateline NBC. She was laughing at how Netflix created a new Friendster-like feature in which friends can see each other's movie queues and read movie recommendations. Of course a lot of mine were for Bollywood films starring Shahrukh Khan.
A couple weeks ago I had a long catch-up phone convo with my other best friend S, who'd just returned from spending the holidays in India (she was far from the tsunami, thank goodness). She just recently found out about my Shahrukh Khan crush from our mutual friend (and fellow Hyphen staffer) Neela. "Am I going to have to take you to South Asian parties the next time you come out to NYC, so you can meet a Desi guy?" she asked me.
I dunno. My "South Asian Persuasion" isn't necessarily about having this "fetish" for South Asian men (though maybe I'm wrong because I do have a "crush" on Shahrukh Khan), but for the flamboyant and vibrant Bollywood films. Although I once in a while have a craving for Indian food and I own a black kurta (blouse) (it was only ever worn when Gurinder Chadha's Bend it Like Beckham was Opening Night for the SFIAAFF), I don't think of my interest in Bollywood being the same as some "outsider" exoticizing women of a certain race (which is what most of us think of when we make the accusation of "Yellow Fever").
Or am I completely wrong here?
Posted by Audrey at 12:39 PM | Comments (30) | TrackBack
Sorry to hooride on your day to blog, Todd, but I couldn't get my airport wireless to connect to the Internet last night. (Sometimes I wish I hadn't done the Mac "switch.")
While I was in San Diego with my extended family for the holidays, my younger cousins hipped me to a "new term" that I hadn't heard before: "Asian Persuasion." It's a "nicer" sounding version of "Yellow Fever," I suppose. (Well, I much prefer it to "Asian-izing" other words like "UrbanizAzn," etc.)
Upon my return home to the Bay Area, I read an email that Big Brother Todd sent me ("Get in touch with your inner Karizma Kapoor!") with a link to this Bollywood "finishing school" type deal, and it made me wonder if my new "obsession" with Bollywood constitutes a "South Asian Persuasion?"
Just as I said I would in my Hapa Thanksgiving, Dreamy Shahrukh entry, I've been watching ONLY Bollywood DVDs from Netflix the past three months. (Now that my queue of Bollywood films are over, Netflix is sending me a Spike Lee retrospective, refresher series [School Daze, Do The Right Thing, Bamboozled, Mo' Better Blues, etc.].) And just like I said he would, my friend T took me down to Fremont before Christmas to see Shahrukh Khan in Swades.
What I'm really excited for, is next month's release of Gurinder Chadha's Bride and Prejudice. Last Friday my best friend Y and I were talking about Bollywood films and Aishwarya Rai (the lead actress in Bride and Prejudice). She mentioned how she'd seen a segment on Bollywood coming to Hollywood on Dateline NBC. She was laughing at how Netflix created a new Friendster-like feature in which friends can see each other's movie queues and read movie recommendations. Of course a lot of mine were for Bollywood films starring Shahrukh Khan.
A couple weeks ago I had a long catch-up phone convo with my other best friend S, who'd just returned from spending the holidays in India (she was far from the tsunami, thank goodness). She just recently found out about my Shahrukh Khan crush from our mutual friend (and fellow Hyphen staffer) Neela. "Am I going to have to take you to South Asian parties the next time you come out to NYC, so you can meet a Desi guy?" she asked me.
I dunno. My "South Asian Persuasion" isn't necessarily about having this "fetish" for South Asian men (though maybe I'm wrong because I do have a "crush" on Shahrukh Khan), but for the flamboyant and vibrant Bollywood films. Although I once in a while have a craving for Indian food and I own a black kurta (blouse) (it was only ever worn when Gurinder Chadha's Bend it Like Beckham was Opening Night for the SFIAAFF), I don't think of my interest in Bollywood being the same as some "outsider" exoticizing women of a certain race (which is what most of us think of when we make the accusation of "Yellow Fever").
Or am I completely wrong here?
Posted by Audrey at 12:39 PM | Comments (30) | TrackBack
Got some new karaoke CDs in the mail. I have a pretty decent Pioneer setup that runs CD-G’s and DVDs. We don’t mess with the DVD’s—CD-G is the way to go. More selection, better sound and no wack videos.
I go in spurts when supplementing my collection (now 50+ deep, cripes!). I’ll get on an R&B jag, or think I’d really like to try that New Radicals song. Lately I’ve been trying to boost my ‘80s collection and I found a disc that had Joe Jackson (“Look Sharp,†“Steppin’ Outâ€), The Clash (“Train in Vain,†“London Callingâ€), Thompson Twins, Oingo Boingo, and, the key acquisition: ABC’s “The Look of Love.†How did it go? Let’s just say my throat is wrecked. One of the funnest parts about singing “The Look of Love†is when it heads into the spoken word part: “My friends they tell me, Marlin (sic) maybe someday you’ll find true love. I saaaay maybe. There must be a solution to the one thing, the one thing…†And it ends with a Tom Jones-like pelvic thrust. “LOOK! OF! LOVE!†Crazy.
Also, I got a ‘90s disc with The Smiths’ “How Soon Is Now?†and a Morrissey song “The More You Ignore Me (The Closer I Get).†It’s interesting to see how savvy the CD-G companies are getting as karaoke spreads from the bowling alley cocktail lounges to hipster parties. Could you picture a CD-G with all those bands like Happy Mondays, Inspiral Carpets, Husker Du, Big Audio Dynamite, Beautiful South or Stone Roses? Maybe I’ll get together with some instrumentally intact friends and record left field choices, make a million bucks, and then invite ABC to play our launch party.
Posted by at 12:05 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Got some new karaoke CDs in the mail. I have a pretty decent Pioneer setup that runs CD-G’s and DVDs. We don’t mess with the DVD’s—CD-G is the way to go. More selection, better sound and no wack videos.
I go in spurts when supplementing my collection (now 50+ deep, cripes!). I’ll get on an R&B jag, or think I’d really like to try that New Radicals song. Lately I’ve been trying to boost my ‘80s collection and I found a disc that had Joe Jackson (“Look Sharp,†“Steppin’ Outâ€), The Clash (“Train in Vain,†“London Callingâ€), Thompson Twins, Oingo Boingo, and, the key acquisition: ABC’s “The Look of Love.†How did it go? Let’s just say my throat is wrecked. One of the funnest parts about singing “The Look of Love†is when it heads into the spoken word part: “My friends they tell me, Marlin (sic) maybe someday you’ll find true love. I saaaay maybe. There must be a solution to the one thing, the one thing…†And it ends with a Tom Jones-like pelvic thrust. “LOOK! OF! LOVE!†Crazy.
Also, I got a ‘90s disc with The Smiths’ “How Soon Is Now?†and a Morrissey song “The More You Ignore Me (The Closer I Get).†It’s interesting to see how savvy the CD-G companies are getting as karaoke spreads from the bowling alley cocktail lounges to hipster parties. Could you picture a CD-G with all those bands like Happy Mondays, Inspiral Carpets, Husker Du, Big Audio Dynamite, Beautiful South or Stone Roses? Maybe I’ll get together with some instrumentally intact friends and record left field choices, make a million bucks, and then invite ABC to play our launch party.
Posted by at 12:05 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Got some new karaoke CDs in the mail. I have a pretty decent Pioneer setup that runs CD-G’s and DVDs. We don’t mess with the DVD’s—CD-G is the way to go. More selection, better sound and no wack videos.
I go in spurts when supplementing my collection (now 50+ deep, cripes!). I’ll get on an R&B jag, or think I’d really like to try that New Radicals song. Lately I’ve been trying to boost my ‘80s collection and I found a disc that had Joe Jackson (“Look Sharp,” “Steppin’ Out”), The Clash (“Train in Vain,” “London Calling”), Thompson Twins, Oingo Boingo, and, the key acquisition: ABC’s “The Look of Love.” How did it go? Let’s just say my throat is wrecked. One of the funnest parts about singing “The Look of Love” is when it heads into the spoken word part: “My friends they tell me, Marlin (sic) maybe someday you’ll find true love. I saaaay maybe. There must be a solution to the one thing, the one thing…” And it ends with a Tom Jones-like pelvic thrust. “LOOK! OF! LOVE!” Crazy.
Also, I got a ‘90s disc with The Smiths’ “How Soon Is Now?” and a Morrissey song “The More You Ignore Me (The Closer I Get).” It’s interesting to see how savvy the CD-G companies are getting as karaoke spreads from the bowling alley cocktail lounges to hipster parties. Could you picture a CD-G with all those bands like Happy Mondays, Inspiral Carpets, Husker Du, Big Audio Dynamite, Beautiful South or Stone Roses? Maybe I’ll get together with some instrumentally intact friends and record left field choices, make a million bucks, and then invite ABC to play our launch party.
Posted by todd at 12:05 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
When I was growing up, I was a total bookworm. I preferred reading to sports, to playing piano, to watching TV. Hell, I preferred reading over talking. In the 5th grade I belonged to the Name That Book club (which is exactly what it sounds like) and we would compete against teams from other schools. They would ask a question like, "In which book does the character such and such do such and such?" Whoever raises her hand first and answers the question correctly scores a point for the team. It was so easy. I remember around this time there were often promotions at Pizza Hut where you got a star for every book you read and after you earned 10 stars, you got a free personal pizza. Also really easy. I skipped class in the 5th grade once. Guess where they found me? In the school library.
I read every book that Judy Blume ever wrote, and some trashy series like the Babysitter’s Club or this one about cheerleaders. But I also read a lot of books that won Newbery medals. This award, for those of you who may not be so in the know about children’s literature, is the Pulitzer prize of children’s books.
I don’t remember reading too many stories that had Asian American protagonists. Or even Asian American characters, for that matter. In fact, I can only think of one: In the Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson by Bette Bao Lord.
Well, now we can add another to the list. Yesterday, a novel about a Japanese American girl growing up in the South in the 1950s received the 2005 John Newbery Award. Kira-Kira by Cynthia Kadohata tells the story of Katie, as she struggles to find her way in rural Georgia and deal with her sister’s death from lymphoma.
I may be all grown up now (more or less) but I think I’ll read it anyways.
Posted by Melissa at 1:31 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
When I was growing up, I was a total bookworm. I preferred reading to sports, to playing piano, to watching TV. Hell, I preferred reading over talking. In the 5th grade I belonged to the Name That Book club (which is exactly what it sounds like) and we would compete against teams from other schools. They would ask a question like, "In which book does the character such and such do such and such?" Whoever raises her hand first and answers the question correctly scores a point for the team. It was so easy. I remember around this time there were often promotions at Pizza Hut where you got a star for every book you read and after you earned 10 stars, you got a free personal pizza. Also really easy. I skipped class in the 5th grade once. Guess where they found me? In the school library.
I read every book that Judy Blume ever wrote, and some trashy series like the Babysitter’s Club or this one about cheerleaders. But I also read a lot of books that won Newbery medals. This award, for those of you who may not be so in the know about children’s literature, is the Pulitzer prize of children’s books.
I don’t remember reading too many stories that had Asian American protagonists. Or even Asian American characters, for that matter. In fact, I can only think of one: In the Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson by Bette Bao Lord.
Well, now we can add another to the list. Yesterday, a novel about a Japanese American girl growing up in the South in the 1950s received the 2005 John Newbery Award. Kira-Kira by Cynthia Kadohata tells the story of Katie, as she struggles to find her way in rural Georgia and deal with her sister’s death from lymphoma.
I may be all grown up now (more or less) but I think I’ll read it anyways.
Posted by Melissa at 1:31 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
When I was growing up, I was a total bookworm. I preferred reading to sports, to playing piano, to watching TV. Hell, I preferred reading over talking. In the 5th grade I belonged to the Name That Book club (which is exactly what it sounds like) and we would compete against teams from other schools. They would ask a question like, "In which book does the character such and such do such and such?" Whoever raises her hand first and answers the question correctly scores a point for the team. It was so easy. I remember around this time there were often promotions at Pizza Hut where you got a star for every book you read and after you earned 10 stars, you got a free personal pizza. Also really easy. I skipped class in the 5th grade once. Guess where they found me? In the school library.
I read every book that Judy Blume ever wrote, and some trashy series like the Babysitter’s Club or this one about cheerleaders. But I also read a lot of books that won Newbery medals. This award, for those of you who may not be so in the know about children’s literature, is the Pulitzer prize of children’s books.
I don’t remember reading too many stories that had Asian American protagonists. Or even Asian American characters, for that matter. In fact, I can only think of one: In the Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson by Bette Bao Lord.
Well, now we can add another to the list. Yesterday, a novel about a Japanese American girl growing up in the South in the 1950s received the 2005 John Newbery Award. Kira-Kira by Cynthia Kadohata tells the story of Katie, as she struggles to find her way in rural Georgia and deal with her sister’s death from lymphoma.
I may be all grown up now (more or less) but I think I’ll read it anyways.
Posted by Melissa at 1:31 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Anybody catch "Iron Chef America" the other night? Not to be confused with the short-lived William Shatner Iron Chef USA, Iron Chef America aims to remake it right.
The iron chefs are Bobby Flay, Mario Batali and Wolfgang Puck. The episode I watched, "Battle Spiny Lobster" pitted Mario Batali against Japan's longtime Iron Chef Japanese, Masaharu Morimoto.
Watching the show made me wonder, even in this day and age, if something as elemental as "delicious food" can be considered universal. Or, to put it simply, I think the deck was stacked against our Asian guy.
Here's why: the judges were:
1). That guy who played J.Peterman on Seinfeld. (White, American)
2). Some silly starlet from the O.C. (White, American)
3). An actual chef who looked pretty hip. (White, American)
4). The "chairman" --the dude who announces the secret ingredient and the winner. This guy spends most of the show doing kung fu, wearing mandarin collared shirts, and spouts cheesy platitudes. Don't even get me started on this guy. (Mark Dacascos)
Here's the thing: when I was in Japan, I conducted my own informal survey about flavor. No, seriously. Because every single Japanese person I've ever met (from Japan, not JAs) has talked about "delicious rice". As in, they can taste a difference between koshihikari rice from Nagano Prefecture and Menkoina rice from Akita Prefecture. They can tell the difference between rice that is just-harvested and rice that's a few months old. I'm not talking about obvious differences, like wild vs. basmati vs. jasmine, I'm talking short-grain white and sticky vs. short-grain white and sticky.
Furthermore, I learned that Japanese people can tell the difference between kinds of salt. So we're sitting there eating nigiri (rice balls) and my friend Kimiko says, "This is delicious. This is really good salt."
Salt! Salt is salt! I protested. Oh no, it is commonly understood (not just at the snobby chef/connoisseur level, as it is here) that different salts have different flavors. I saw a whole section of a department store devoted to foods made with a special pink salt crystal, much higher in minerals and stuff and MUCH more expensive. And everyone I asked, from housewives to photographers to students, said, "of course different salts taste different."
"If Japanese people are so sensitive to flavors that we Americans almost never think about," I said, "you probably think our food tastes pretty bad. I'm mean, we're not paying that close of attention."
"Americans think British food tastes bad, don't they?" my friend asked. "That's kind of the image Japanese people have of American food. It's not thought of as delicious."
I never knew that American food is to the Japanese as British food is to the Americans. But for a country where burgers are the no. 1 food for men and no. 2 for women, why should I be surprised?
My point? J. Peterman and Ms. O.C. don't have the properly trained taste buds to properly appreciate the Japanese food. There's probably stuff going on at a level beyond their comprehension, in the same way we couldn't hear a tune played by dog whistles.
I'm not saying the producers of Iron Chef America are racist, just ignorant. (Don't you love the hubris of blogs?) If they really want to enlighten American understanding of cuisine, they should start by explaining some of the principles of their international challengers.
They can start with salt.
Posted by jennifer at 1:41 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Anybody catch "Iron Chef America" the other night? Not to be confused with the short-lived William Shatner Iron Chef USA, Iron Chef America aims to remake it right.
The iron chefs are Bobby Flay, Mario Batali and Wolfgang Puck. The episode I watched, "Battle Spiny Lobster" pitted Mario Batali against Japan's longtime Iron Chef Japanese, Masaharu Morimoto.
Watching the show made me wonder, even in this day and age, if something as elemental as "delicious food" can be considered universal. Or, to put it simply, I think the deck was stacked against our Asian guy.
Here's why: the judges were:
1). That guy who played J.Peterman on Seinfeld. (White, American)
2). Some silly starlet from the O.C. (White, American)
3). An actual chef who looked pretty hip. (White, American)
4). The "chairman" --the dude who announces the secret ingredient and the winner. This guy spends most of the show doing kung fu, wearing mandarin collared shirts, and spouts cheesy platitudes. Don't even get me started on this guy. (Mark Dacascos)
Here's the thing: when I was in Japan, I conducted my own informal survey about flavor. No, seriously. Because every single Japanese person I've ever met (from Japan, not JAs) has talked about "delicious rice". As in, they can taste a difference between koshihikari rice from Nagano Prefecture and Menkoina rice from Akita Prefecture. They can tell the difference between rice that is just-harvested and rice that's a few months old. I'm not talking about obvious differences, like wild vs. basmati vs. jasmine, I'm talking short-grain white and sticky vs. short-grain white and sticky.
Furthermore, I learned that Japanese people can tell the difference between kinds of salt. So we're sitting there eating nigiri (rice balls) and my friend Kimiko says, "This is delicious. This is really good salt."
Salt! Salt is salt! I protested. Oh no, it is commonly understood (not just at the snobby chef/connoisseur level, as it is here) that different salts have different flavors. I saw a whole section of a department store devoted to foods made with a special pink salt crystal, much higher in minerals and stuff and MUCH more expensive. And everyone I asked, from housewives to photographers to students, said, "of course different salts taste different."
"If Japanese people are so sensitive to flavors that we Americans almost never think about," I said, "you probably think our food tastes pretty bad. I'm mean, we're not paying that close of attention."
"Americans think British food tastes bad, don't they?" my friend asked. "That's kind of the image Japanese people have of American food. It's not thought of as delicious."
I never knew that American food is to the Japanese as British food is to the Americans. But for a country where burgers are the no. 1 food for men and no. 2 for women, why should I be surprised?
My point? J. Peterman and Ms. O.C. don't have the properly trained taste buds to properly appreciate the Japanese food. There's probably stuff going on at a level beyond their comprehension, in the same way we couldn't hear a tune played by dog whistles.
I'm not saying the producers of Iron Chef America are racist, just ignorant. (Don't you love the hubris of blogs?) If they really want to enlighten American understanding of cuisine, they should start by explaining some of the principles of their international challengers.
They can start with salt.
Posted by jennifer at 1:41 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Anybody catch "Iron Chef America" the other night? Not to be confused with the short-lived William Shatner Iron Chef USA, Iron Chef America aims to remake it right.
The iron chefs are Bobby Flay, Mario Batali and Wolfgang Puck. The episode I watched, "Battle Spiny Lobster" pitted Mario Batali against Japan's longtime Iron Chef Japanese, Masaharu Morimoto.
Watching the show made me wonder, even in this day and age, if something as elemental as "delicious food" can be considered universal. Or, to put it simply, I think the deck was stacked against our Asian guy.
Here's why: the judges were:
1). That guy who played J.Peterman on Seinfeld. (White, American)
2). Some silly starlet from the O.C. (White, American)
3). An actual chef who looked pretty hip. (White, American)
4). The "chairman" --the dude who announces the secret ingredient and the winner. This guy spends most of the show doing kung fu, wearing mandarin collared shirts, and spouts cheesy platitudes. Don't even get me started on this guy. (Mark Dacascos)
Here's the thing: when I was in Japan, I conducted my own informal survey about flavor. No, seriously. Because every single Japanese person I've ever met (from Japan, not JAs) has talked about "delicious rice". As in, they can taste a difference between koshihikari rice from Nagano Prefecture and Menkoina rice from Akita Prefecture. They can tell the difference between rice that is just-harvested and rice that's a few months old. I'm not talking about obvious differences, like wild vs. basmati vs. jasmine, I'm talking short-grain white and sticky vs. short-grain white and sticky.
Furthermore, I learned that Japanese people can tell the difference between kinds of salt. So we're sitting there eating nigiri (rice balls) and my friend Kimiko says, "This is delicious. This is really good salt."
Salt! Salt is salt! I protested. Oh no, it is commonly understood (not just at the snobby chef/connoisseur level, as it is here) that different salts have different flavors. I saw a whole section of a department store devoted to foods made with a special pink salt crystal, much higher in minerals and stuff and MUCH more expensive. And everyone I asked, from housewives to photographers to students, said, "of course different salts taste different."
"If Japanese people are so sensitive to flavors that we Americans almost never think about," I said, "you probably think our food tastes pretty bad. I'm mean, we're not paying that close of attention."
"Americans think British food tastes bad, don't they?" my friend asked. "That's kind of the image Japanese people have of American food. It's not thought of as delicious."
I never knew that American food is to the Japanese as British food is to the Americans. But for a country where burgers are the no. 1 food for men and no. 2 for women, why should I be surprised?
My point? J. Peterman and Ms. O.C. don't have the properly trained taste buds to properly appreciate the Japanese food. There's probably stuff going on at a level beyond their comprehension, in the same way we couldn't hear a tune played by dog whistles.
I'm not saying the producers of Iron Chef America are racist, just ignorant. (Don't you love the hubris of blogs?) If they really want to enlighten American understanding of cuisine, they should start by explaining some of the principles of their international challengers.
They can start with salt.
Posted by jennifer at 1:41 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Ah, the joys of non-Asian family. At Christmas dinner this year my Uncle X (clearly not his real name) asked me if we named our magazine "Hyphen" because we wanted to create a special hyphenated identity for ourselves - in essence make ourselves special rather than just assimilate into the mainstream like good Americans. In his defense, he *is* a thousand years old and he *did* use to work for the CIA. Wait, that's not really in his defense, is it?
Another little intra-community tiff this week points up the impossibility of creating a monolithic Asian American identity that actually works in the task of representing broad community interests. Here you go, Uncle X: we're not special, we're just as insensitive, lunk-headed and back-biting as the rest of you Americans.
300 Philly Cambodian Americans have signed a petition asking the mayor to fire his Asian American community liaison, Korean American businessman Mahn Suh Park. The petition was offered in response to a Philadephia Inquirer story on Dec. 12, 2004 about Cambodian Americans still haunted by the horrors they suffered under the Pol Pot regime.
In the story, Park was quoted making dismissive statements about Pol Pot survivors' experiences, among them: "Killing fields or whatever. Does that mean they have to have the special treatment?... Whether the killing field or not, that's their fault."
When asked about the petition Park responded with: "So what? It is a volunteer job. I spend my own time. I have done so much for them. If they don't want me to work for the Cambodian community, fine. I won't do anything for them. What's the big deal?"
Wow, I've uttered some insensitivities in my time, but this one really takes the kim chee. One (I) might venture to suggest to Park that it's time he closed his mouth and stopped embarrassing himself -- not to mention the rest of us self-appointed pan-APA community reps.
Two possible, mutually compatible spins on this:
1) Politicians and flunkeys of every stripe and level may be learning from Dubya's example: The best defense is a good offense, no matter how offensive. Just keep at it and the furor will die down sooner or sooner than that.
2) My horror is horribler than your horror is a zero-sum game. Revisiting history or recasting history as a community activity is often simply a matter of uttering hurts -- for the first time, or for a definitive time. It's not necessary to comment upon, criticize, or evaluate a community history review. It's enough -- and essential -- to know about it, respect it and move on. This is a lesson we, as a pan-ethnic bloc, keep trying to get across to mainly white mainstream America. But maybe we're not getting the message ourselves.
Posted by claire at 10:55 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Ah, the joys of non-Asian family. At Christmas dinner this year my Uncle X (clearly not his real name) asked me if we named our magazine "Hyphen" because we wanted to create a special hyphenated identity for ourselves - in essence make ourselves special rather than just assimilate into the mainstream like good Americans. In his defense, he *is* a thousand years old and he *did* use to work for the CIA. Wait, that's not really in his defense, is it?
Another little intra-community tiff this week points up the impossibility of creating a monolithic Asian American identity that actually works in the task of representing broad community interests. Here you go, Uncle X: we're not special, we're just as insensitive, lunk-headed and back-biting as the rest of you Americans.
300 Philly Cambodian Americans have signed a petition asking the mayor to fire his Asian American community liaison, Korean American businessman Mahn Suh Park. The petition was offered in response to a Philadephia Inquirer story on Dec. 12, 2004 about Cambodian Americans still haunted by the horrors they suffered under the Pol Pot regime.
In the story, Park was quoted making dismissive statements about Pol Pot survivors' experiences, among them: "Killing fields or whatever. Does that mean they have to have the special treatment?... Whether the killing field or not, that's their fault."
When asked about the petition Park responded with: "So what? It is a volunteer job. I spend my own time. I have done so much for them. If they don't want me to work for the Cambodian community, fine. I won't do anything for them. What's the big deal?"
Wow, I've uttered some insensitivities in my time, but this one really takes the kim chee. One (I) might venture to suggest to Park that it's time he closed his mouth and stopped embarrassing himself -- not to mention the rest of us self-appointed pan-APA community reps.
Two possible, mutually compatible spins on this:
1) Politicians and flunkeys of every stripe and level may be learning from Dubya's example: The best defense is a good offense, no matter how offensive. Just keep at it and the furor will die down sooner or sooner than that.
2) My horror is horribler than your horror is a zero-sum game. Revisiting history or recasting history as a community activity is often simply a matter of uttering hurts -- for the first time, or for a definitive time. It's not necessary to comment upon, criticize, or evaluate a community history review. It's enough -- and essential -- to know about it, respect it and move on. This is a lesson we, as a pan-ethnic bloc, keep trying to get across to mainly white mainstream America. But maybe we're not getting the message ourselves.
Posted by claire at 10:55 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Ah, the joys of non-Asian family. At Christmas dinner this year my Uncle X (clearly not his real name) asked me if we named our magazine "Hyphen" because we wanted to create a special hyphenated identity for ourselves - in essence make ourselves special rather than just assimilate into the mainstream like good Americans. In his defense, he *is* a thousand years old and he *did* use to work for the CIA. Wait, that's not really in his defense, is it?
Another little intra-community tiff this week points up the impossibility of creating a monolithic Asian American identity that actually works in the task of representing broad community interests. Here you go, Uncle X: we're not special, we're just as insensitive, lunk-headed and back-biting as the rest of you Americans.
300 Philly Cambodian Americans have signed a petition asking the mayor to fire his Asian American community liaison, Korean American businessman Mahn Suh Park. The petition was offered in response to a Philadephia Inquirer story on Dec. 12, 2004 about Cambodian Americans still haunted by the horrors they suffered under the Pol Pot regime.
In the story, Park was quoted making dismissive statements about Pol Pot survivors' experiences, among them: "Killing fields or whatever. Does that mean they have to have the special treatment?... Whether the killing field or not, that's their fault."
When asked about the petition Park responded with: "So what? It is a volunteer job. I spend my own time. I have done so much for them. If they don't want me to work for the Cambodian community, fine. I won't do anything for them. What's the big deal?"
Wow, I've uttered some insensitivities in my time, but this one really takes the kim chee. One (I) might venture to suggest to Park that it's time he closed his mouth and stopped embarrassing himself -- not to mention the rest of us self-appointed pan-APA community reps.
Two possible, mutually compatible spins on this:
1) Politicians and flunkeys of every stripe and level may be learning from Dubya's example: The best defense is a good offense, no matter how offensive. Just keep at it and the furor will die down sooner or sooner than that.
2) My horror is horribler than your horror is a zero-sum game. Revisiting history or recasting history as a community activity is often simply a matter of uttering hurts -- for the first time, or for a definitive time. It's not necessary to comment upon, criticize, or evaluate a community history review. It's enough -- and essential -- to know about it, respect it and move on. This is a lesson we, as a pan-ethnic bloc, keep trying to get across to mainly white mainstream America. But maybe we're not getting the message ourselves.
Posted by claire at 10:55 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Ah, vacation is almost over. No longer will I be subjected to the horrid radio music my cousins think is "hip-hop" and "dancehall." (Sorry, I don't like Nelly or reggaeton.) I was about to have an Orlando Jones (in Drumline) moment... Sigh.
Did any of you, by chance, get to read Oliver Wang's article about hip-hop and politics in yesterday's SF Bay Guardian? I've been having deja vu all week. After reading Oliver's article, I was nostalgic for the days when wearing my Hip-hop Badge was a big declaration for me. I've been experiencing flashbacks of all the changes that cycled and re-cycled (for me) up til now.
My first memories of hip-hop are from the late '80s and early '90s. I was anywhere from ten to 14 years-old. I was a sponge. I not only liked hip-hop, but all pop music, and especially anything on The Box (you remember wanting to request videos!), MTV and BET. If my brother listened to it (NWA, Ice Cube, Digital Underground, Public Enemy), I probably snuck it in/out of his room to dub my own copy.
My best hip-hop memories come from college. Hip-hop was a cultural discovery at the same time "Asian America" was. My vocabulary was different then: "the elements" (DJing, b-boying, graffiti, MCing), "conscious," "revolutionary," "cipher." I was so excited to go to the 1999 B-Boy Summit at UCLA with my friends. At the time I was doing a stint at UCLA and was hoping to run into (or at least spot) Key Kool (Japanese American MC), who I'd heard was rumored to be attending UCLA. I went (all by my lonesome) to the Whiskey A-Go-Go on Sunset Boulevard in LA, to see the legendary Freestyle Fellowship's first reunion after many years. I remember seeing Medea Sirkus boogaloo onstage at a Free Mumia benefit in Santa Cruz. "Redefinition" by Blackstar and "I Used to Love H.E.R." were two of many songs in heavy rotation in my car stereo. I secretly wanted to recite the staccato phrases of slam poets, and to be a beat-juggling DJ like Kuttin' Kandi.
Luckily, I befriended many Asian American kids who were into hip-hop, who put me onto new music and ideas. From there, my Asian American "conscious-ness" expanded. I learned about the I-Hotel and discovered the word "manong" was more than how my aunties addressed my dad. I was just coming to learn (by osmosis) more about my Filipino-ness, and language played a big part: "babaylan" (female healers/sages), "kayumanggi" (dark-skinned), "katipunan" (revolution). I tried to bridge the gap between my Filipino-ness and Asian American-ness (which I still see as being separate). I bought and read every Asian American publication I could find, starting with Ronyoung Kim's Clay Walls (in an Asian American literature class) and Jessica Hagedorn's Charlie Chan is Dead and Dogeaters. Hey, that's how I came to intern at Giant Robot!
I've always been more of a "stealth activist" than an "In your face!" type. In high school I wrote opinion pieces and edited ratty little Xeroxed zines. Voicing my opinion has always been the extent of my "activism." But this apathy I feel is amplified, such that I don't think my opinion matters anymore. At 26 years-old my vocabulary has deteriorated and my energy is waning. The daily language I use/hear: "deadline" and "over-extended." Hip-hop and Asian America are monotonous like a paper-pushing desk job.
How can I, the publisher of an Asian American magazine, say that I've lost passion, when obviously (by being involved with such an effort as Hyphen) I still have drive? But the fire doesn't burn as bright as before, and I wonder how soon it will be before I burn out.
If you have any words of encouragement or advice, or even experiences to share: I'm all ears. As I see it, hip-hop music and Asian American issues will always be a part of my life, but I need to find new ways to constantly rekindle the passion and enjoyment for both.
Posted by Audrey at 11:59 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
Ah, vacation is almost over. No longer will I be subjected to the horrid radio music my cousins think is "hip-hop" and "dancehall." (Sorry, I don't like Nelly or reggaeton.) I was about to have an Orlando Jones (in Drumline) moment... Sigh.
Did any of you, by chance, get to read Oliver Wang's article about hip-hop and politics in yesterday's SF Bay Guardian? I've been having deja vu all week. After reading Oliver's article, I was nostalgic for the days when wearing my Hip-hop Badge was a big declaration for me. I've been experiencing flashbacks of all the changes that cycled and re-cycled (for me) up til now.
My first memories of hip-hop are from the late '80s and early '90s. I was anywhere from ten to 14 years-old. I was a sponge. I not only liked hip-hop, but all pop music, and especially anything on The Box (you remember wanting to request videos!), MTV and BET. If my brother listened to it (NWA, Ice Cube, Digital Underground, Public Enemy), I probably snuck it in/out of his room to dub my own copy.
My best hip-hop memories come from college. Hip-hop was a cultural discovery at the same time "Asian America" was. My vocabulary was different then: "the elements" (DJing, b-boying, graffiti, MCing), "conscious," "revolutionary," "cipher." I was so excited to go to the 1999 B-Boy Summit at UCLA with my friends. At the time I was doing a stint at UCLA and was hoping to run into (or at least spot) Key Kool (Japanese American MC), who I'd heard was rumored to be attending UCLA. I went (all by my lonesome) to the Whiskey A-Go-Go on Sunset Boulevard in LA, to see the legendary Freestyle Fellowship's first reunion after many years. I remember seeing Medea Sirkus boogaloo onstage at a Free Mumia benefit in Santa Cruz. "Redefinition" by Blackstar and "I Used to Love H.E.R." were two of many songs in heavy rotation in my car stereo. I secretly wanted to recite the staccato phrases of slam poets, and to be a beat-juggling DJ like Kuttin' Kandi.
Luckily, I befriended many Asian American kids who were into hip-hop, who put me onto new music and ideas. From there, my Asian American "conscious-ness" expanded. I learned about the I-Hotel and discovered the word "manong" was more than how my aunties addressed my dad. I was just coming to learn (by osmosis) more about my Filipino-ness, and language played a big part: "babaylan" (female healers/sages), "kayumanggi" (dark-skinned), "katipunan" (revolution). I tried to bridge the gap between my Filipino-ness and Asian American-ness (which I still see as being separate). I bought and read every Asian American publication I could find, starting with Ronyoung Kim's Clay Walls (in an Asian American literature class) and Jessica Hagedorn's Charlie Chan is Dead and Dogeaters. Hey, that's how I came to intern at Giant Robot!
I've always been more of a "stealth activist" than an "In your face!" type. In high school I wrote opinion pieces and edited ratty little Xeroxed zines. Voicing my opinion has always been the extent of my "activism." But this apathy I feel is amplified, such that I don't think my opinion matters anymore. At 26 years-old my vocabulary has deteriorated and my energy is waning. The daily language I use/hear: "deadline" and "over-extended." Hip-hop and Asian America are monotonous like a paper-pushing desk job.
How can I, the publisher of an Asian American magazine, say that I've lost passion, when obviously (by being involved with such an effort as Hyphen) I still have drive? But the fire doesn't burn as bright as before, and I wonder how soon it will be before I burn out.
If you have any words of encouragement or advice, or even experiences to share: I'm all ears. As I see it, hip-hop music and Asian American issues will always be a part of my life, but I need to find new ways to constantly rekindle the passion and enjoyment for both.
Posted by Audrey at 11:59 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
Ah, vacation is almost over. No longer will I be subjected to the horrid radio music my cousins think is "hip-hop" and "dancehall." (Sorry, I don't like Nelly or reggaeton.) I was about to have an Orlando Jones (in Drumline) moment... Sigh.
Did any of you, by chance, get to read Oliver Wang's article about hip-hop and politics in yesterday's SF Bay Guardian? I've been having deja vu all week. After reading Oliver's article, I was nostalgic for the days when wearing my Hip-hop Badge was a big declaration for me. I've been experiencing flashbacks of all the changes that cycled and re-cycled (for me) up til now.
My first memories of hip-hop are from the late '80s and early '90s. I was anywhere from ten to 14 years-old. I was a sponge. I not only liked hip-hop, but all pop music, and especially anything on The Box (you remember wanting to request videos!), MTV and BET. If my brother listened to it (NWA, Ice Cube, Digital Underground, Public Enemy), I probably snuck it in/out of his room to dub my own copy.
My best hip-hop memories come from college. Hip-hop was a cultural discovery at the same time "Asian America" was. My vocabulary was different then: "the elements" (DJing, b-boying, graffiti, MCing), "conscious," "revolutionary," "cipher." I was so excited to go to the 1999 B-Boy Summit at UCLA with my friends. At the time I was doing a stint at UCLA and was hoping to run into (or at least spot) Key Kool (Japanese American MC), who I'd heard was rumored to be attending UCLA. I went (all by my lonesome) to the Whiskey A-Go-Go on Sunset Boulevard in LA, to see the legendary Freestyle Fellowship's first reunion after many years. I remember seeing Medea Sirkus boogaloo onstage at a Free Mumia benefit in Santa Cruz. "Redefinition" by Blackstar and "I Used to Love H.E.R." were two of many songs in heavy rotation in my car stereo. I secretly wanted to recite the staccato phrases of slam poets, and to be a beat-juggling DJ like Kuttin' Kandi.
Luckily, I befriended many Asian American kids who were into hip-hop, who put me onto new music and ideas. From there, my Asian American "conscious-ness" expanded. I learned about the I-Hotel and discovered the word "manong" was more than how my aunties addressed my dad. I was just coming to learn (by osmosis) more about my Filipino-ness, and language played a big part: "babaylan" (female healers/sages), "kayumanggi" (dark-skinned), "katipunan" (revolution). I tried to bridge the gap between my Filipino-ness and Asian American-ness (which I still see as being separate). I bought and read every Asian American publication I could find, starting with Ronyoung Kim's Clay Walls (in an Asian American literature class) and Jessica Hagedorn's Charlie Chan is Dead and Dogeaters. Hey, that's how I came to intern at Giant Robot!
I've always been more of a "stealth activist" than an "In your face!" type. In high school I wrote opinion pieces and edited ratty little Xeroxed zines. Voicing my opinion has always been the extent of my "activism." But this apathy I feel is amplified, such that I don't think my opinion matters anymore. At 26 years-old my vocabulary has deteriorated and my energy is waning. The daily language I use/hear: "deadline" and "over-extended." Hip-hop and Asian America are monotonous like a paper-pushing desk job.
How can I, the publisher of an Asian American magazine, say that I've lost passion, when obviously (by being involved with such an effort as Hyphen) I still have drive? But the fire doesn't burn as bright as before, and I wonder how soon it will be before I burn out.
If you have any words of encouragement or advice, or even experiences to share: I'm all ears. As I see it, hip-hop music and Asian American issues will always be a part of my life, but I need to find new ways to constantly rekindle the passion and enjoyment for both.
Posted by Audrey at 11:59 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
"Kosuke," I asked on my recent trip to Nagano, "I don't understand Japanese relationships. I speak Japanese, but I think there's a whole level of communication that I'm missing."
I'd been asking him about his girlfriend and hoping he could shed some light on the Japanese mating ritual. Recently I've been starting to doubt the veracity of Japanese dramas in their depiction of romance, which is my main source of info on the subject.
"If a Japanese person has something to say," Kosuke said, indicating it with a fist, "they'll never just say it. They'll give a lot of hints around it," he stamped his other fist in the air around the first. "That way they'll be understood without having to actually say it."
"But why don't they just say it?" I cry with American frustration.
"'Why should I have to say it?' is how differently a Japanese person would probably think," Kosuke explained. "That's just the culture."
I lived in Japan for three years, and I did grow to understand the Japanese aversion to confrontation. It's gauche, it's foreign, and to a society of people trained to be sensitive to the slightest pause, flicker of eyebrow or stiff bow, unnecessary.
On this trip, I especially took notice to how tuned in everyone around me was. They could finish my sentences, fulfill my requests before I'd completed them --everywhere from the convenience store to the train ticket counter.
Kosuke, a former student of mine, is particularly aware of such cultural differences as he just returned from 8 months in France. I was staying at his family's pension, eating his dad's French cuisine and being schooled on how little I know about communication in Japan. (In spite of studying the language for half my life.)
"If so much interaction in Japan is in the form of these "hints," I said to him, "they really ought to teach that too, when they teach Japanese. Otherwise, we're really not learning how to communicate."
"Ya, that's true," Kosuke said. "But I don't think there's a person who could teach that."
Those "hints," the various forms of nonverbal communication, the assumptions people make, those are the keys to really getting it. But how?
I tried to think back on the Japanese guys I flirted with, or those who thought I was flirting with them when I thought I was being polite. I have no clue how to break that code.
(But then again, it took me about 25 years to start deciphering the mating dance here in the States. So what's the diff?)
Much has been made of the stereotype of the "inscrutable" Asian. On the contrary, as Kosuke explained, they're trying to make themselves as clear as possible. We just haven't learned how to read those cues yet.
It drives home the point to me that in order to interact successfully with people of different cultures, we have to learn how to listen in entirely new ways. We have to learn a lot more than vocabulary. And we'd do well NOT to assume that our values --"democracy," "liberation," and such will mean the same thing in an entirely different cultural context.
Posted by jennifer at 11:45 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
"Kosuke," I asked on my recent trip to Nagano, "I don't understand Japanese relationships. I speak Japanese, but I think there's a whole level of communication that I'm missing."
I'd been asking him about his girlfriend and hoping he could shed some light on the Japanese mating ritual. Recently I've been starting to doubt the veracity of Japanese dramas in their depiction of romance, which is my main source of info on the subject.
"If a Japanese person has something to say," Kosuke said, indicating it with a fist, "they'll never just say it. They'll give a lot of hints around it," he stamped his other fist in the air around the first. "That way they'll be understood without having to actually say it."
"But why don't they just say it?" I cry with American frustration.
"'Why should I have to say it?' is how differently a Japanese person would probably think," Kosuke explained. "That's just the culture."
I lived in Japan for three years, and I did grow to understand the Japanese aversion to confrontation. It's gauche, it's foreign, and to a society of people trained to be sensitive to the slightest pause, flicker of eyebrow or stiff bow, unnecessary.
On this trip, I especially took notice to how tuned in everyone around me was. They could finish my sentences, fulfill my requests before I'd completed them --everywhere from the convenience store to the train ticket counter.
Kosuke, a former student of mine, is particularly aware of such cultural differences as he just returned from 8 months in France. I was staying at his family's pension, eating his dad's French cuisine and being schooled on how little I know about communication in Japan. (In spite of studying the language for half my life.)
"If so much interaction in Japan is in the form of these "hints," I said to him, "they really ought to teach that too, when they teach Japanese. Otherwise, we're really not learning how to communicate."
"Ya, that's true," Kosuke said. "But I don't think there's a person who could teach that."
Those "hints," the various forms of nonverbal communication, the assumptions people make, those are the keys to really getting it. But how?
I tried to think back on the Japanese guys I flirted with, or those who thought I was flirting with them when I thought I was being polite. I have no clue how to break that code.
(But then again, it took me about 25 years to start deciphering the mating dance here in the States. So what's the diff?)
Much has been made of the stereotype of the "inscrutable" Asian. On the contrary, as Kosuke explained, they're trying to make themselves as clear as possible. We just haven't learned how to read those cues yet.
It drives home the point to me that in order to interact successfully with people of different cultures, we have to learn how to listen in entirely new ways. We have to learn a lot more than vocabulary. And we'd do well NOT to assume that our values --"democracy," "liberation," and such will mean the same thing in an entirely different cultural context.
Posted by jennifer at 11:45 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
"Kosuke," I asked on my recent trip to Nagano, "I don't understand Japanese relationships. I speak Japanese, but I think there's a whole level of communication that I'm missing."
I'd been asking him about his girlfriend and hoping he could shed some light on the Japanese mating ritual. Recently I've been starting to doubt the veracity of Japanese dramas in their depiction of romance, which is my main source of info on the subject.
"If a Japanese person has something to say," Kosuke said, indicating it with a fist, "they'll never just say it. They'll give a lot of hints around it," he stamped his other fist in the air around the first. "That way they'll be understood without having to actually say it."
"But why don't they just say it?" I cry with American frustration.
"'Why should I have to say it?' is how differently a Japanese person would probably think," Kosuke explained. "That's just the culture."
I lived in Japan for three years, and I did grow to understand the Japanese aversion to confrontation. It's gauche, it's foreign, and to a society of people trained to be sensitive to the slightest pause, flicker of eyebrow or stiff bow, unnecessary.
On this trip, I especially took notice to how tuned in everyone around me was. They could finish my sentences, fulfill my requests before I'd completed them --everywhere from the convenience store to the train ticket counter.
Kosuke, a former student of mine, is particularly aware of such cultural differences as he just returned from 8 months in France. I was staying at his family's pension, eating his dad's French cuisine and being schooled on how little I know about communication in Japan. (In spite of studying the language for half my life.)
"If so much interaction in Japan is in the form of these "hints," I said to him, "they really ought to teach that too, when they teach Japanese. Otherwise, we're really not learning how to communicate."
"Ya, that's true," Kosuke said. "But I don't think there's a person who could teach that."
Those "hints," the various forms of nonverbal communication, the assumptions people make, those are the keys to really getting it. But how?
I tried to think back on the Japanese guys I flirted with, or those who thought I was flirting with them when I thought I was being polite. I have no clue how to break that code.
(But then again, it took me about 25 years to start deciphering the mating dance here in the States. So what's the diff?)
Much has been made of the stereotype of the "inscrutable" Asian. On the contrary, as Kosuke explained, they're trying to make themselves as clear as possible. We just haven't learned how to read those cues yet.
It drives home the point to me that in order to interact successfully with people of different cultures, we have to learn how to listen in entirely new ways. We have to learn a lot more than vocabulary. And we'd do well NOT to assume that our values --"democracy," "liberation," and such will mean the same thing in an entirely different cultural context.
Posted by jennifer at 11:45 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Me and Josh, the Editor & Publisher of Heeb while we were setting up for the
Hyphen vs Heeb Table Tennis Tussle on December 10th.
We weren't even posing for this picture. Ping pong, drinks, karaoke. All in all, a very good night. Thanks to everyone who came out to the event. More photos to come. Your Hyphen staff is also planning a new event for February. Cough. Once we get well that is. Like Claire, I'm also sick. Seems like half the staff has been sick since December. Well anyway, we promise a fun event in February. Stay tuned.
Posted by Melissa at 3:33 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Me and Josh, the Editor & Publisher of Heeb while we were setting up for the
Hyphen vs Heeb Table Tennis Tussle on December 10th.
We weren't even posing for this picture. Ping pong, drinks, karaoke. All in all, a very good night. Thanks to everyone who came out to the event. More photos to come. Your Hyphen staff is also planning a new event for February. Cough. Once we get well that is. Like Claire, I'm also sick. Seems like half the staff has been sick since December. Well anyway, we promise a fun event in February. Stay tuned.
Posted by Melissa at 3:33 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Me and Josh, the Editor & Publisher of Heeb while we were setting up for the
Hyphen vs Heeb Table Tennis Tussle on December 10th.
We weren't even posing for this picture. Ping pong, drinks, karaoke. All in all, a very good night. Thanks to everyone who came out to the event. More photos to come. Your Hyphen staff is also planning a new event for February. Cough. Once we get well that is. Like Claire, I'm also sick. Seems like half the staff has been sick since December. Well anyway, we promise a fun event in February. Stay tuned.
Posted by Melissa at 3:33 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
One more reason to hate the holidays -- and I suspect this is probably the main reason, though people rarely articulate it as such -- is that everyone's life must come to a halt for three weeks, willy, nilly, or chilly. Doesn't matter if you observe any holidays at all; everyone else does, and you'll find it hard to play ball -- or even catch -- without someone on the other end wearing a mitt. So basically, you get to twiddle your fingers for nearly a month, while your pet projects go as sour as the produce in your fridge.
It's not that bad, of course. Necessarily. But add to that the fact that I was sick for THREE WEEKS STRAIGHT (yes, indeedy) and you'll find a huge continental shelf in the landscape of my recent life. This is all by way of saying sorry that I haven't blogged in so long. And to make up for it, here's some small news from the past month to re-whet your appetite for hyphenews:
Does size really matter?: An Indian American couple is preparing to take home the smallest ever surviving baby. Their fraternal twin girls were born 15 weeks early and one of them weighed under a pound at birth. Both girls are doing well, though. Happy New Year!
But at least stereotypes were preserved: A former president of the Korean-American Grocers Association (KARGO) was shot to death by two masked burglars in his liquor store in Los Angeles. They wore gloves so no fingerprints were left. Police are investigating, whatever that means.
And it wasn't 'cause he had to do the dishes: A Korean American teenager was declared a "martyr" by South Korea, for dying while trying to save a neighbor during a flood last year. The delay in martyrdom happened while the Korean government attempted to confirm that the teenager really was Korean. Sounds like a Hyphen editorial meeting.
You should see what they do when your engine overheats: An Indian American woman is threatened with deportation after asking police for help with a flat tire. The illegal immigrant, mother of two American citizens, home and business owner and taxpayer had been served with an order to leave the country two years before under new draconian immigration laws. Her appeal was still in process when she came to the notice of the police by flagging them down on the highway.
Honk if you love racism: A Wisconsin decal and sticker store removed an anti-Hmong bumper sticker from its wall after being contacted by Hmong American students. The sticker, which read "Save a hunter, shoot a Mung," was left over from a custom job, the owner claimed after the media made inquiries into the case. The owner wouldn't identify the customer, but said that the customer told him that ""MUNG" wasn't a misspelling of "Hmong" but rather an acronym for "Minuscule Unseen Naughty Gnat, or something like that, so he couldn't be in any trouble."
They're Almost the Same Age. Just Reverse the Digits: 82-year-old Chinese American nobel laureate for physics, Chen-Ning Yang (Yang Zhenning), recently announced his engagement to a 28-year-old Chinese woman. This will be the second marriage for both parties.
There's no goverment agency controlling it, so it must not be illegal: A Wisconsin Hmong American family with ten children has agreed to move house after their neighbors pressured their landlord to evict them. The family's house was targeted for two drive-by shootings in the past year -- shootings which the police and neighbors agree were attempts to draw family members into a gang.
Posted by claire at 7:15 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
One more reason to hate the holidays -- and I suspect this is probably the main reason, though people rarely articulate it as such -- is that everyone's life must come to a halt for three weeks, willy, nilly, or chilly. Doesn't matter if you observe any holidays at all; everyone else does, and you'll find it hard to play ball -- or even catch -- without someone on the other end wearing a mitt. So basically, you get to twiddle your fingers for nearly a month, while your pet projects go as sour as the produce in your fridge.
It's not that bad, of course. Necessarily. But add to that the fact that I was sick for THREE WEEKS STRAIGHT (yes, indeedy) and you'll find a huge continental shelf in the landscape of my recent life. This is all by way of saying sorry that I haven't blogged in so long. And to make up for it, here's some small news from the past month to re-whet your appetite for hyphenews:
Does size really matter?: An Indian American couple is preparing to take home the smallest ever surviving baby. Their fraternal twin girls were born 15 weeks early and one of them weighed under a pound at birth. Both girls are doing well, though. Happy New Year!
But at least stereotypes were preserved: A former president of the Korean-American Grocers Association (KARGO) was shot to death by two masked burglars in his liquor store in Los Angeles. They wore gloves so no fingerprints were left. Police are investigating, whatever that means.
And it wasn't 'cause he had to do the dishes: A Korean American teenager was declared a "martyr" by South Korea, for dying while trying to save a neighbor during a flood last year. The delay in martyrdom happened while the Korean government attempted to confirm that the teenager really was Korean. Sounds like a Hyphen editorial meeting.
You should see what they do when your engine overheats: An Indian American woman is threatened with deportation after asking police for help with a flat tire. The illegal immigrant, mother of two American citizens, home and business owner and taxpayer had been served with an order to leave the country two years before under new draconian immigration laws. Her appeal was still in process when she came to the notice of the police by flagging them down on the highway.
Honk if you love racism: A Wisconsin decal and sticker store removed an anti-Hmong bumper sticker from its wall after being contacted by Hmong American students. The sticker, which read "Save a hunter, shoot a Mung," was left over from a custom job, the owner claimed after the media made inquiries into the case. The owner wouldn't identify the customer, but said that the customer told him that ""MUNG" wasn't a misspelling of "Hmong" but rather an acronym for "Minuscule Unseen Naughty Gnat, or something like that, so he couldn't be in any trouble."
They're Almost the Same Age. Just Reverse the Digits: 82-year-old Chinese American nobel laureate for physics, Chen-Ning Yang (Yang Zhenning), recently announced his engagement to a 28-year-old Chinese woman. This will be the second marriage for both parties.
There's no goverment agency controlling it, so it must not be illegal: A Wisconsin Hmong American family with ten children has agreed to move house after their neighbors pressured their landlord to evict them. The family's house was targeted for two drive-by shootings in the past year -- shootings which the police and neighbors agree were attempts to draw family members into a gang.
Posted by claire at 7:15 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
One more reason to hate the holidays -- and I suspect this is probably the main reason, though people rarely articulate it as such -- is that everyone's life must come to a halt for three weeks, willy, nilly, or chilly. Doesn't matter if you observe any holidays at all; everyone else does, and you'll find it hard to play ball -- or even catch -- without someone on the other end wearing a mitt. So basically, you get to twiddle your fingers for nearly a month, while your pet projects go as sour as the produce in your fridge.
It's not that bad, of course. Necessarily. But add to that the fact that I was sick for THREE WEEKS STRAIGHT (yes, indeedy) and you'll find a huge continental shelf in the landscape of my recent life. This is all by way of saying sorry that I haven't blogged in so long. And to make up for it, here's some small news from the past month to re-whet your appetite for hyphenews:
Does size really matter?: An Indian American couple is preparing to take home the smallest ever surviving baby. Their fraternal twin girls were born 15 weeks early and one of them weighed under a pound at birth. Both girls are doing well, though. Happy New Year!
But at least stereotypes were preserved: A former president of the Korean-American Grocers Association (KARGO) was shot to death by two masked burglars in his liquor store in Los Angeles. They wore gloves so no fingerprints were left. Police are investigating, whatever that means.
And it wasn't 'cause he had to do the dishes: A Korean American teenager was declared a "martyr" by South Korea, for dying while trying to save a neighbor during a flood last year. The delay in martyrdom happened while the Korean government attempted to confirm that the teenager really was Korean. Sounds like a Hyphen editorial meeting.
You should see what they do when your engine overheats: An Indian American woman is threatened with deportation after asking police for help with a flat tire. The illegal immigrant, mother of two American citizens, home and business owner and taxpayer had been served with an order to leave the country two years before under new draconian immigration laws. Her appeal was still in process when she came to the notice of the police by flagging them down on the highway.
Honk if you love racism: A Wisconsin decal and sticker store removed an anti-Hmong bumper sticker from its wall after being contacted by Hmong American students. The sticker, which read "Save a hunter, shoot a Mung," was left over from a custom job, the owner claimed after the media made inquiries into the case. The owner wouldn't identify the customer, but said that the customer told him that ""MUNG" wasn't a misspelling of "Hmong" but rather an acronym for "Minuscule Unseen Naughty Gnat, or something like that, so he couldn't be in any trouble."
They're Almost the Same Age. Just Reverse the Digits: 82-year-old Chinese American nobel laureate for physics, Chen-Ning Yang (Yang Zhenning), recently announced his engagement to a 28-year-old Chinese woman. This will be the second marriage for both parties.
There's no goverment agency controlling it, so it must not be illegal: A Wisconsin Hmong American family with ten children has agreed to move house after their neighbors pressured their landlord to evict them. The family's house was targeted for two drive-by shootings in the past year -- shootings which the police and neighbors agree were attempts to draw family members into a gang.
Posted by claire at 7:15 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
For lunch today, I had some leftover shrimp alfredo and for a special treat, I walked down to the red-sauce Italian restaurant and bought an order of garlic bread. I say “special treat†because I’m the type that bleeds garlic fumes after eating just the slightest bit. Now this restaurant is notorious for giving too much and they don’t skimp. So I binged hard, plowing through the order, mopping up the last drips of creamy parmesan sauce. Now I’m resting in a nice comatose state, garlic fumes seeping out of my pores and into my coworker’s airspace.
My love affair with garlic didn’t start until I moved out of my folks’ house. They would use garlic sparingly, as if a tiny piece would mess you up. “Watch out for the garlic†would be a favorite Mom expression. One of my first roommates would stink up the house with a wok filled with garlic and burnt chicken. I thought garlic was just for eccentric people, or something to be avoided. Then I went to a couple of Garlic Festivals in Gilroy, got into stir-frying and saw the light. I once contributed a linguine and clams recipe to the Mountain Brothers website and suggested cutting up like 10 cloves. I wouldn’t do that today. I’ve maintained a balance. Garlic seasons a lot of things I make: meatloaf, guacamole, steaks, Italian dishes. I haven’t gone overboard in a long time.
Until this afternoon. So now I rest and enjoy the high. When I get home, I will catch hell. On the soccer field, friends will ask, “What the hell did you eat last night?†I don’t care. I popped a couple of Eclipse Winterfrost gums but I still have garlic burps. Yumdiggity.
Posted by at 2:00 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
For lunch today, I had some leftover shrimp alfredo and for a special treat, I walked down to the red-sauce Italian restaurant and bought an order of garlic bread. I say “special treat†because I’m the type that bleeds garlic fumes after eating just the slightest bit. Now this restaurant is notorious for giving too much and they don’t skimp. So I binged hard, plowing through the order, mopping up the last drips of creamy parmesan sauce. Now I’m resting in a nice comatose state, garlic fumes seeping out of my pores and into my coworker’s airspace.
My love affair with garlic didn’t start until I moved out of my folks’ house. They would use garlic sparingly, as if a tiny piece would mess you up. “Watch out for the garlic†would be a favorite Mom expression. One of my first roommates would stink up the house with a wok filled with garlic and burnt chicken. I thought garlic was just for eccentric people, or something to be avoided. Then I went to a couple of Garlic Festivals in Gilroy, got into stir-frying and saw the light. I once contributed a linguine and clams recipe to the Mountain Brothers website and suggested cutting up like 10 cloves. I wouldn’t do that today. I’ve maintained a balance. Garlic seasons a lot of things I make: meatloaf, guacamole, steaks, Italian dishes. I haven’t gone overboard in a long time.
Until this afternoon. So now I rest and enjoy the high. When I get home, I will catch hell. On the soccer field, friends will ask, “What the hell did you eat last night?†I don’t care. I popped a couple of Eclipse Winterfrost gums but I still have garlic burps. Yumdiggity.
Posted by at 2:00 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
For lunch today, I had some leftover shrimp alfredo and for a special treat, I walked down to the red-sauce Italian restaurant and bought an order of garlic bread. I say “special treat” because I’m the type that bleeds garlic fumes after eating just the slightest bit. Now this restaurant is notorious for giving too much and they don’t skimp. So I binged hard, plowing through the order, mopping up the last drips of creamy parmesan sauce. Now I’m resting in a nice comatose state, garlic fumes seeping out of my pores and into my coworker’s airspace.
My love affair with garlic didn’t start until I moved out of my folks’ house. They would use garlic sparingly, as if a tiny piece would mess you up. “Watch out for the garlic” would be a favorite Mom expression. One of my first roommates would stink up the house with a wok filled with garlic and burnt chicken. I thought garlic was just for eccentric people, or something to be avoided. Then I went to a couple of Garlic Festivals in Gilroy, got into stir-frying and saw the light. I once contributed a linguine and clams recipe to the Mountain Brothers website and suggested cutting up like 10 cloves. I wouldn’t do that today. I’ve maintained a balance. Garlic seasons a lot of things I make: meatloaf, guacamole, steaks, Italian dishes. I haven’t gone overboard in a long time.
Until this afternoon. So now I rest and enjoy the high. When I get home, I will catch hell. On the soccer field, friends will ask, “What the hell did you eat last night?” I don’t care. I popped a couple of Eclipse Winterfrost gums but I still have garlic burps. Yumdiggity.
Posted by todd at 2:00 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I am still in Southern California (I get a longer "vacation" from Hyphen land just for the fact that spring semester for me doesn't start til January 24th), preparing for my older brother's wedding next weekend. Although I'm still sick, I'm slowly recovering and getting back into Work Mode.
As I've been in the San Diego area the past few weeks, I've been getting to know my way around Bonita, National City, Chula Vista and the Paradise Hills part of San Diego. The first thing any outsider will notice is how Filipino it is here. It makes me wonder if there are more Filipinos here than in Daly City!
This part of San Diego is just as hill-y as Daly City, so the only noticeable difference is that Daly City has rice cooker fog and San Diego has a plethora of tropical greenery (kalamansi, banana and palm trees) that would not survive the Bay Area winters.
The other evening my friend Richie picked me up so we could get some late-night boba in Claremont (an area North of where I'm staying, where there are tons of Asian businesses and car dealerships). We never made it to get boba because our car blew a tire; we had to settle for greasy Denny's. But on the way to Claremont Richie was telling me how Claremont could be San Diego's "Little Saigon," but all the car dealerships prevent more Asians from opening up businesses, in a sense blacklisting them from expansion. It made me realize that there must be a great story behind why the farther south you go in San Diego county, the more Filipinos you see. I know there's more to it than that all these Filipinos are military families.
If anybody knows their San Diego Asian American history, or of a place to do some k-box karaoke, drop me a line!
Posted by Audrey at 12:18 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I am still in Southern California (I get a longer "vacation" from Hyphen land just for the fact that spring semester for me doesn't start til January 24th), preparing for my older brother's wedding next weekend. Although I'm still sick, I'm slowly recovering and getting back into Work Mode.
As I've been in the San Diego area the past few weeks, I've been getting to know my way around Bonita, National City, Chula Vista and the Paradise Hills part of San Diego. The first thing any outsider will notice is how Filipino it is here. It makes me wonder if there are more Filipinos here than in Daly City!
This part of San Diego is just as hill-y as Daly City, so the only noticeable difference is that Daly City has rice cooker fog and San Diego has a plethora of tropical greenery (kalamansi, banana and palm trees) that would not survive the Bay Area winters.
The other evening my friend Richie picked me up so we could get some late-night boba in Claremont (an area North of where I'm staying, where there are tons of Asian businesses and car dealerships). We never made it to get boba because our car blew a tire; we had to settle for greasy Denny's. But on the way to Claremont Richie was telling me how Claremont could be San Diego's "Little Saigon," but all the car dealerships prevent more Asians from opening up businesses, in a sense blacklisting them from expansion. It made me realize that there must be a great story behind why the farther south you go in San Diego county, the more Filipinos you see. I know there's more to it than that all these Filipinos are military families.
If anybody knows their San Diego Asian American history, or of a place to do some k-box karaoke, drop me a line!
Posted by Audrey at 12:18 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I am still in Southern California (I get a longer "vacation" from Hyphen land just for the fact that spring semester for me doesn't start til January 24th), preparing for my older brother's wedding next weekend. Although I'm still sick, I'm slowly recovering and getting back into Work Mode.
As I've been in the San Diego area the past few weeks, I've been getting to know my way around Bonita, National City, Chula Vista and the Paradise Hills part of San Diego. The first thing any outsider will notice is how Filipino it is here. It makes me wonder if there are more Filipinos here than in Daly City!
This part of San Diego is just as hill-y as Daly City, so the only noticeable difference is that Daly City has rice cooker fog and San Diego has a plethora of tropical greenery (kalamansi, banana and palm trees) that would not survive the Bay Area winters.
The other evening my friend Richie picked me up so we could get some late-night boba in Claremont (an area North of where I'm staying, where there are tons of Asian businesses and car dealerships). We never made it to get boba because our car blew a tire; we had to settle for greasy Denny's. But on the way to Claremont Richie was telling me how Claremont could be San Diego's "Little Saigon," but all the car dealerships prevent more Asians from opening up businesses, in a sense blacklisting them from expansion. It made me realize that there must be a great story behind why the farther south you go in San Diego county, the more Filipinos you see. I know there's more to it than that all these Filipinos are military families.
If anybody knows their San Diego Asian American history, or of a place to do some k-box karaoke, drop me a line!
Posted by Audrey at 12:18 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Why are radio DJs always doing dumb racist things on air? This incident took place on Power 99 RM in Philly. Let me guess, they're going to say it was just a joke and hey, don't you Asians have a sense of humor?
Posted by Melissa at 10:13 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Why are radio DJs always doing dumb racist things on air? This incident took place on Power 99 RM in Philly. Let me guess, they're going to say it was just a joke and hey, don't you Asians have a sense of humor?
Posted by Melissa at 10:13 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Why are radio DJs always doing dumb racist things on air? This incident took place on Power 99 RM in Philly. Let me guess, they're going to say it was just a joke and hey, don't you Asians have a sense of humor?
Posted by Melissa at 10:13 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
So, I'm kind of addicted to Alias. Well, I guess there's no such thing as "kind of addicted." I'm not the only Hyphen staffer who watches this show religiously. Jennifer Garner's a spy. Boyfriend's a spy. Dad's a spy. Mom's a spy. What's not to love? We usually have our editorial meetings on Wednesday nights, but now that Alias is on Wednesday nights, well, we might have to move our meetings.
I went over to another Hyphen editor's house last night to watch the 2-hour season premiere. It was a weird episode. Actually, it was lame. The plot sucked. What's that? The big top secret that left us hanging at the end of last season is that your daddy killed your mommy? That's it? We also noticed that almost all the commercials were for watching your weight and aimed at women.
Anyhow, I was pleased to see Rick Yune listed as a guest star at the beginning. He plays a villain, a guy name Tamazaki who's got two personas. Everyone is after this crazy evil guy named Vadic. But actually, Tamazaki is Vadic. Made him up. What a crafty fellow.
I was hoping that Tamazaki would be a recurring villain, like the character Sark, someone who's evil, but charmingly so, who's got a bad boy appeal and flirts relentlessly with Sydney Bristow while they're kicking each other's asses. Alas, Sydney kills him at the end of the episode, with a fricking samurai sword no less. During the CIA's debrief of our villain, we learn that Mr. Tamazaki fancies himself a "modern day samurai." In fact, he broke into a British museum once in an attempt to steal the above-mentioned samurai sword to "restore glory to his country." In order to lure Tamazaki out from hiding, Sydney and her spy team steal the sword, then wait for him to contact them.
WTF? This man's motivation for blowing up buildings and assassinating heads of states is because he thinks he's a samurai and wants to honor his country, blah blah? Puh-leeze. Real convincing. Really smart writing. Good job, Alias writers.
Posted by Melissa at 1:25 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
So, I'm kind of addicted to Alias. Well, I guess there's no such thing as "kind of addicted." I'm not the only Hyphen staffer who watches this show religiously. Jennifer Garner's a spy. Boyfriend's a spy. Dad's a spy. Mom's a spy. What's not to love? We usually have our editorial meetings on Wednesday nights, but now that Alias is on Wednesday nights, well, we might have to move our meetings.
I went over to another Hyphen editor's house last night to watch the 2-hour season premiere. It was a weird episode. Actually, it was lame. The plot sucked. What's that? The big top secret that left us hanging at the end of last season is that your daddy killed your mommy? That's it? We also noticed that almost all the commercials were for watching your weight and aimed at women.
Anyhow, I was pleased to see Rick Yune listed as a guest star at the beginning. He plays a villain, a guy name Tamazaki who's got two personas. Everyone is after this crazy evil guy named Vadic. But actually, Tamazaki is Vadic. Made him up. What a crafty fellow.
I was hoping that Tamazaki would be a recurring villain, like the character Sark, someone who's evil, but charmingly so, who's got a bad boy appeal and flirts relentlessly with Sydney Bristow while they're kicking each other's asses. Alas, Sydney kills him at the end of the episode, with a fricking samurai sword no less. During the CIA's debrief of our villain, we learn that Mr. Tamazaki fancies himself a "modern day samurai." In fact, he broke into a British museum once in an attempt to steal the above-mentioned samurai sword to "restore glory to his country." In order to lure Tamazaki out from hiding, Sydney and her spy team steal the sword, then wait for him to contact them.
WTF? This man's motivation for blowing up buildings and assassinating heads of states is because he thinks he's a samurai and wants to honor his country, blah blah? Puh-leeze. Real convincing. Really smart writing. Good job, Alias writers.
Posted by Melissa at 1:25 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
So, I'm kind of addicted to Alias. Well, I guess there's no such thing as "kind of addicted." I'm not the only Hyphen staffer who watches this show religiously. Jennifer Garner's a spy. Boyfriend's a spy. Dad's a spy. Mom's a spy. What's not to love? We usually have our editorial meetings on Wednesday nights, but now that Alias is on Wednesday nights, well, we might have to move our meetings.
I went over to another Hyphen editor's house last night to watch the 2-hour season premiere. It was a weird episode. Actually, it was lame. The plot sucked. What's that? The big top secret that left us hanging at the end of last season is that your daddy killed your mommy? That's it? We also noticed that almost all the commercials were for watching your weight and aimed at women.
Anyhow, I was pleased to see Rick Yune listed as a guest star at the beginning. He plays a villain, a guy name Tamazaki who's got two personas. Everyone is after this crazy evil guy named Vadic. But actually, Tamazaki is Vadic. Made him up. What a crafty fellow.
I was hoping that Tamazaki would be a recurring villain, like the character Sark, someone who's evil, but charmingly so, who's got a bad boy appeal and flirts relentlessly with Sydney Bristow while they're kicking each other's asses. Alas, Sydney kills him at the end of the episode, with a fricking samurai sword no less. During the CIA's debrief of our villain, we learn that Mr. Tamazaki fancies himself a "modern day samurai." In fact, he broke into a British museum once in an attempt to steal the above-mentioned samurai sword to "restore glory to his country." In order to lure Tamazaki out from hiding, Sydney and her spy team steal the sword, then wait for him to contact them.
WTF? This man's motivation for blowing up buildings and assassinating heads of states is because he thinks he's a samurai and wants to honor his country, blah blah? Puh-leeze. Real convincing. Really smart writing. Good job, Alias writers.
Posted by Melissa at 1:25 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
A friend of Bob Hsiang --a Hyphen Advisory Board member-- was in Phuket during the tsunami. Here's Brenda Sunoo's firsthand account of what happened.
By the grace of greater spirits, we are safe and sound in Hanoi. We made it off the island of Phuket, Thailand on the 27th. Phuket, as you know by now, is one of the hard hit islands in southern Thailand. If you look at a map, you will see it in the south. We were staying at one of the quieter beaches in the southern part of the island. It is called Kata Noi.
We were definitely terrified for our lives, and trapped for 24 hours without any water or electricity. We were supposed to have left the morning of the tsunami. But two hours before it hit, my back snapped into painful spasms. So I was resting on the bed between 8 and 10 a.m. to see if my back got better. We were hoping that it would get better before 10:30, which is when we would've been standing in the lobby or riding in a taxi to the airport...right at the moment the tsunami struck around 10 a.m. That area downstairs area was completely demolished by the waves. Everything was washed out to sea.
Jan had gone downstairs before 9 to get our passports, get money out of the safe, and have breakfast. I waited upstairs in our bungalow on the hill. He was going to bring me breakfast to fill my stomach so I could take a muscle relaxant pill. Fortunately, he was back in the room around 9 a.m., we think...just waiting to see if my back got better, and if we should leave as planned.
FORTUNATELY, my back did NOT get better. So we were staying put in our bungalow on the hill. Later, one of the hotel staff--a Thai young man--came running to our bungalow screaming, "Look! Look!" I hobbled to the balcony with Jan, only to see this tsunami crashing on the shore, and watching the restaurant furniture, etc. all washing out to sea before our very eyes.
The tsunami surged out of nowhere. In a matter of seconds, the once serene beachfront restaurant where Jan had eaten breakfast 30 minutes earlier, was submerged under 15 feet of water. Then the waters began to recede in an ever-quickening pace. Tons of moving water swept away everything in its path: a canoe, a blue freezer, pots and pans, wooden and plastic tables, deck chairs and pads, beach umbrellas, Styrofoam coolers, logs, cocoanuts and life vests. In the middle of the bay, the receding waters were then met by newer and stronger swells emanating from the epicenter. These clashing waves created gigantic whirlpoolsbefore the oncoming waves could reach the shore. At their highest point, the waves reached the rooftop of the beachfront restaurant. Although we seemed safely perched nearly three stories above the water, I feared that the next few waves might actually reach us.
Our hotel lost everything on the first level...mainly, their restaurant. People were screaming. I could hear people hollering the names of their loved ones. Staff and tourists were running up the stairs, and fleeing to higher ground.
Fortunately, our hotel HAD higher ground. Other beaches that were more level were harder hit on the shore...and inside the rooms. People lost their possessions and luggage, passports, IDs, money. Fortunately, many are able to be evacuated w/o paperwork to Bangkok--and then home.
One guest at our hotel thought her husband had been swept out to sea. She was trembling in fear, and crying. When the Tsunami struck, they were on the beach. He pushed his wife and child up on the rocks. They were safe. But they were separated. Fortunately, he survived and returned to the hotel..into her shaking embrace. Our hotel (only 20+ rooms) suffered no life casualties---only injuries to those who were swept up by the wave, hit by travelling debris while clinging onto a tree or pole, or anything they could grab.
We didn't come down from our bungalow because everyone expected a second tsunami to hit again. But we didn't know when. We were at the mercy of Mother Nature, and simply had to surrender and pray that a second wave didn't occur, especially if and when one decided to head downstairs. With tsunamis, there is no visible indication it's coming. As one reporter described, it's like being cracked with a bullwhip that comes out of nowhere.
People on the beach said they thought it strange that the tide had receded so far. This is one indication. But you see no wave approaching, as tsunamis are a series of waves that eventually compress at once on the shore.
The Thai staff was incredible. They brought us some pork/rice plates, water and cluster of 5 bananas for lunch. They also brought us candles at night, and re-assured us at night that they didn't expect a second hit.
Thank God we had cell phones. Some were able to reach us by text message or directly/ We know others tried to reach us, too. But we were unable to receive them. But we knew people cared and were worried...especially those that knew we were in Phuket.
From our bungalow, we did shoot some photos with Jan's small digital Canon, and some video clips. We figured that if we survived, we should document this calamity.
During the evening, we lit our candles and watched a DVD on Jan's laptop. It helped to calm us down. Another British guest was very reassuring, as they seemed to understand what was happening. This woman could sense I was terrifed, so she asked, "Are you OK?" She was very thoughful and perceptive. People did reach out to eachother.
Our hotel has been in the familiy for three generatons. Although they lost everything downstairs, including paperwork, people promised to pay on the honor system. As Nong, the owner said, "The restaurant can be rebuilt. The most important thing are the lives." No one at our hotel died, but came too close to danger.
Two days ago, their staff called us a taxi. They even waited on the road until it arrived. We were among thousands at the airport. But we did catch our flight. Once we landed in Bangkok...we went to get a shortwave radio. In the course of talking to a Thai salesgirl, whom we already knew from previous trips, she urged us to submit out video clips and eyewitness report to ITV. So we did.
The other night, we were both interviewed on ITV, which feeds clips, etc. to Reuters and other news services. We gave our eyewitness report via TV, with Jan's video clips. Many of the Thais want to know what happened. We expressed our sadness at this tragedy, and shared how wonderful the Thai people were toward the foreigners.
In Thailand, the tragedy is very personal also in that the King's beloved 21-year-old grandson perished after jetskiing on Phang Nga island---where we had gone snorkerling earlier that week.
Please let those who ask know that we are thankful for their calls, prayers and e-mails. We are truly thankful to all spirits for surviving this ongoing tragedy, and pray for the safety, recovery and healing of all others impacted in Asia.
In peace and compassion,
Brenda Sunoo, (a Korean American journalist currently
living in Vietnam).
Posted by jennifer at 6:22 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
A friend of Bob Hsiang --a Hyphen Advisory Board member-- was in Phuket during the tsunami. Here's Brenda Sunoo's firsthand account of what happened.
By the grace of greater spirits, we are safe and sound in Hanoi. We made it off the island of Phuket, Thailand on the 27th. Phuket, as you know by now, is one of the hard hit islands in southern Thailand. If you look at a map, you will see it in the south. We were staying at one of the quieter beaches in the southern part of the island. It is called Kata Noi.
We were definitely terrified for our lives, and trapped for 24 hours without any water or electricity. We were supposed to have left the morning of the tsunami. But two hours before it hit, my back snapped into painful spasms. So I was resting on the bed between 8 and 10 a.m. to see if my back got better. We were hoping that it would get better before 10:30, which is when we would've been standing in the lobby or riding in a taxi to the airport...right at the moment the tsunami struck around 10 a.m. That area downstairs area was completely demolished by the waves. Everything was washed out to sea.
Jan had gone downstairs before 9 to get our passports, get money out of the safe, and have breakfast. I waited upstairs in our bungalow on the hill. He was going to bring me breakfast to fill my stomach so I could take a muscle relaxant pill. Fortunately, he was back in the room around 9 a.m., we think...just waiting to see if my back got better, and if we should leave as planned.
FORTUNATELY, my back did NOT get better. So we were staying put in our bungalow on the hill. Later, one of the hotel staff--a Thai young man--came running to our bungalow screaming, "Look! Look!" I hobbled to the balcony with Jan, only to see this tsunami crashing on the shore, and watching the restaurant furniture, etc. all washing out to sea before our very eyes.
The tsunami surged out of nowhere. In a matter of seconds, the once serene beachfront restaurant where Jan had eaten breakfast 30 minutes earlier, was submerged under 15 feet of water. Then the waters began to recede in an ever-quickening pace. Tons of moving water swept away everything in its path: a canoe, a blue freezer, pots and pans, wooden and plastic tables, deck chairs and pads, beach umbrellas, Styrofoam coolers, logs, cocoanuts and life vests. In the middle of the bay, the receding waters were then met by newer and stronger swells emanating from the epicenter. These clashing waves created gigantic whirlpoolsbefore the oncoming waves could reach the shore. At their highest point, the waves reached the rooftop of the beachfront restaurant. Although we seemed safely perched nearly three stories above the water, I feared that the next few waves might actually reach us.
Our hotel lost everything on the first level...mainly, their restaurant. People were screaming. I could hear people hollering the names of their loved ones. Staff and tourists were running up the stairs, and fleeing to higher ground.
Fortunately, our hotel HAD higher ground. Other beaches that were more level were harder hit on the shore...and inside the rooms. People lost their possessions and luggage, passports, IDs, money. Fortunately, many are able to be evacuated w/o paperwork to Bangkok--and then home.
One guest at our hotel thought her husband had been swept out to sea. She was trembling in fear, and crying. When the Tsunami struck, they were on the beach. He pushed his wife and child up on the rocks. They were safe. But they were separated. Fortunately, he survived and returned to the hotel..into her shaking embrace. Our hotel (only 20+ rooms) suffered no life casualties---only injuries to those who were swept up by the wave, hit by travelling debris while clinging onto a tree or pole, or anything they could grab.
We didn't come down from our bungalow because everyone expected a second tsunami to hit again. But we didn't know when. We were at the mercy of Mother Nature, and simply had to surrender and pray that a second wave didn't occur, especially if and when one decided to head downstairs. With tsunamis, there is no visible indication it's coming. As one reporter described, it's like being cracked with a bullwhip that comes out of nowhere.
People on the beach said they thought it strange that the tide had receded so far. This is one indication. But you see no wave approaching, as tsunamis are a series of waves that eventually compress at once on the shore.
The Thai staff was incredible. They brought us some pork/rice plates, water and cluster of 5 bananas for lunch. They also brought us candles at night, and re-assured us at night that they didn't expect a second hit.
Thank God we had cell phones. Some were able to reach us by text message or directly/ We know others tried to reach us, too. But we were unable to receive them. But we knew people cared and were worried...especially those that knew we were in Phuket.
From our bungalow, we did shoot some photos with Jan's small digital Canon, and some video clips. We figured that if we survived, we should document this calamity.
During the evening, we lit our candles and watched a DVD on Jan's laptop. It helped to calm us down. Another British guest was very reassuring, as they seemed to understand what was happening. This woman could sense I was terrifed, so she asked, "Are you OK?" She was very thoughful and perceptive. People did reach out to eachother.
Our hotel has been in the familiy for three generatons. Although they lost everything downstairs, including paperwork, people promised to pay on the honor system. As Nong, the owner said, "The restaurant can be rebuilt. The most important thing are the lives." No one at our hotel died, but came too close to danger.
Two days ago, their staff called us a taxi. They even waited on the road until it arrived. We were among thousands at the airport. But we did catch our flight. Once we landed in Bangkok...we went to get a shortwave radio. In the course of talking to a Thai salesgirl, whom we already knew from previous trips, she urged us to submit out video clips and eyewitness report to ITV. So we did.
The other night, we were both interviewed on ITV, which feeds clips, etc. to Reuters and other news services. We gave our eyewitness report via TV, with Jan's video clips. Many of the Thais want to know what happened. We expressed our sadness at this tragedy, and shared how wonderful the Thai people were toward the foreigners.
In Thailand, the tragedy is very personal also in that the King's beloved 21-year-old grandson perished after jetskiing on Phang Nga island---where we had gone snorkerling earlier that week.
Please let those who ask know that we are thankful for their calls, prayers and e-mails. We are truly thankful to all spirits for surviving this ongoing tragedy, and pray for the safety, recovery and healing of all others impacted in Asia.
In peace and compassion,
Brenda Sunoo, (a Korean American journalist currently
living in Vietnam).
Posted by jennifer at 6:22 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
A friend of Bob Hsiang --a Hyphen Advisory Board member-- was in Phuket during the tsunami. Here's Brenda Sunoo's firsthand account of what happened.
By the grace of greater spirits, we are safe and sound in Hanoi. We made it off the island of Phuket, Thailand on the 27th. Phuket, as you know by now, is one of the hard hit islands in southern Thailand. If you look at a map, you will see it in the south. We were staying at one of the quieter beaches in the southern part of the island. It is called Kata Noi.
We were definitely terrified for our lives, and trapped for 24 hours without any water or electricity. We were supposed to have left the morning of the tsunami. But two hours before it hit, my back snapped into painful spasms. So I was resting on the bed between 8 and 10 a.m. to see if my back got better. We were hoping that it would get better before 10:30, which is when we would've been standing in the lobby or riding in a taxi to the airport...right at the moment the tsunami struck around 10 a.m. That area downstairs area was completely demolished by the waves. Everything was washed out to sea.
Jan had gone downstairs before 9 to get our passports, get money out of the safe, and have breakfast. I waited upstairs in our bungalow on the hill. He was going to bring me breakfast to fill my stomach so I could take a muscle relaxant pill. Fortunately, he was back in the room around 9 a.m., we think...just waiting to see if my back got better, and if we should leave as planned.
FORTUNATELY, my back did NOT get better. So we were staying put in our bungalow on the hill. Later, one of the hotel staff--a Thai young man--came running to our bungalow screaming, "Look! Look!" I hobbled to the balcony with Jan, only to see this tsunami crashing on the shore, and watching the restaurant furniture, etc. all washing out to sea before our very eyes.
The tsunami surged out of nowhere. In a matter of seconds, the once serene beachfront restaurant where Jan had eaten breakfast 30 minutes earlier, was submerged under 15 feet of water. Then the waters began to recede in an ever-quickening pace. Tons of moving water swept away everything in its path: a canoe, a blue freezer, pots and pans, wooden and plastic tables, deck chairs and pads, beach umbrellas, Styrofoam coolers, logs, cocoanuts and life vests. In the middle of the bay, the receding waters were then met by newer and stronger swells emanating from the epicenter. These clashing waves created gigantic whirlpoolsbefore the oncoming waves could reach the shore. At their highest point, the waves reached the rooftop of the beachfront restaurant. Although we seemed safely perched nearly three stories above the water, I feared that the next few waves might actually reach us.
Our hotel lost everything on the first level...mainly, their restaurant. People were screaming. I could hear people hollering the names of their loved ones. Staff and tourists were running up the stairs, and fleeing to higher ground.
Fortunately, our hotel HAD higher ground. Other beaches that were more level were harder hit on the shore...and inside the rooms. People lost their possessions and luggage, passports, IDs, money. Fortunately, many are able to be evacuated w/o paperwork to Bangkok--and then home.
One guest at our hotel thought her husband had been swept out to sea. She was trembling in fear, and crying. When the Tsunami struck, they were on the beach. He pushed his wife and child up on the rocks. They were safe. But they were separated. Fortunately, he survived and returned to the hotel..into her shaking embrace. Our hotel (only 20+ rooms) suffered no life casualties---only injuries to those who were swept up by the wave, hit by travelling debris while clinging onto a tree or pole, or anything they could grab.
We didn't come down from our bungalow because everyone expected a second tsunami to hit again. But we didn't know when. We were at the mercy of Mother Nature, and simply had to surrender and pray that a second wave didn't occur, especially if and when one decided to head downstairs. With tsunamis, there is no visible indication it's coming. As one reporter described, it's like being cracked with a bullwhip that comes out of nowhere.
People on the beach said they thought it strange that the tide had receded so far. This is one indication. But you see no wave approaching, as tsunamis are a series of waves that eventually compress at once on the shore.
The Thai staff was incredible. They brought us some pork/rice plates, water and cluster of 5 bananas for lunch. They also brought us candles at night, and re-assured us at night that they didn't expect a second hit.
Thank God we had cell phones. Some were able to reach us by text message or directly/ We know others tried to reach us, too. But we were unable to receive them. But we knew people cared and were worried...especially those that knew we were in Phuket.
From our bungalow, we did shoot some photos with Jan's small digital Canon, and some video clips. We figured that if we survived, we should document this calamity.
During the evening, we lit our candles and watched a DVD on Jan's laptop. It helped to calm us down. Another British guest was very reassuring, as they seemed to understand what was happening. This woman could sense I was terrifed, so she asked, "Are you OK?" She was very thoughful and perceptive. People did reach out to eachother.
Our hotel has been in the familiy for three generatons. Although they lost everything downstairs, including paperwork, people promised to pay on the honor system. As Nong, the owner said, "The restaurant can be rebuilt. The most important thing are the lives." No one at our hotel died, but came too close to danger.
Two days ago, their staff called us a taxi. They even waited on the road until it arrived. We were among thousands at the airport. But we did catch our flight. Once we landed in Bangkok...we went to get a shortwave radio. In the course of talking to a Thai salesgirl, whom we already knew from previous trips, she urged us to submit out video clips and eyewitness report to ITV. So we did.
The other night, we were both interviewed on ITV, which feeds clips, etc. to Reuters and other news services. We gave our eyewitness report via TV, with Jan's video clips. Many of the Thais want to know what happened. We expressed our sadness at this tragedy, and shared how wonderful the Thai people were toward the foreigners.
In Thailand, the tragedy is very personal also in that the King's beloved 21-year-old grandson perished after jetskiing on Phang Nga island---where we had gone snorkerling earlier that week.
Please let those who ask know that we are thankful for their calls, prayers and e-mails. We are truly thankful to all spirits for surviving this ongoing tragedy, and pray for the safety, recovery and healing of all others impacted in Asia.
In peace and compassion,
Brenda Sunoo, (a Korean American journalist currently
living in Vietnam).
Posted by jennifer at 6:22 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Ever since I read Papillon, the story of a French thief sent to an island prison, I've saved a particular kind of compassion for people sentenced to live behind bars. Particularly when so many stories are of continuing injustice, of the wrongly accused or the overly punished. Such is the story of David Wong.
In a nutshell, David Wong was sentenced for 25 years to life for a murder that he did not commit. The judge, on Dec. 21, 2004, evacuated the charges. He was 24 when he entered prison, he is now 41.
But David Wong is not free to live his life now, free to make up for lost years by splashing through water parks and gorging on dim sum and waking up whenever he damn well feels like it and fretting about his career options like the rest of us, because the U.S. government wants to deport him. That's what happens when they falsely sentence you and you spend 17 years of your life in prison overalls bathed in the smells of institutional restriction because of other people's mistakes and malice. Apparently that makes you unfit to live in this country any more.
Find out more about his story, and sign a petition opposing his deportation at freedavidwong.org.
Posted by jennifer at 7:25 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Ever since I read Papillon, the story of a French thief sent to an island prison, I've saved a particular kind of compassion for people sentenced to live behind bars. Particularly when so many stories are of continuing injustice, of the wrongly accused or the overly punished. Such is the story of David Wong.
In a nutshell, David Wong was sentenced for 25 years to life for a murder that he did not commit. The judge, on Dec. 21, 2004, evacuated the charges. He was 24 when he entered prison, he is now 41.
But David Wong is not free to live his life now, free to make up for lost years by splashing through water parks and gorging on dim sum and waking up whenever he damn well feels like it and fretting about his career options like the rest of us, because the U.S. government wants to deport him. That's what happens when they falsely sentence you and you spend 17 years of your life in prison overalls bathed in the smells of institutional restriction because of other people's mistakes and malice. Apparently that makes you unfit to live in this country any more.
Find out more about his story, and sign a petition opposing his deportation at freedavidwong.org.
Posted by jennifer at 7:25 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Ever since I read Papillon, the story of a French thief sent to an island prison, I've saved a particular kind of compassion for people sentenced to live behind bars. Particularly when so many stories are of continuing injustice, of the wrongly accused or the overly punished. Such is the story of David Wong.
In a nutshell, David Wong was sentenced for 25 years to life for a murder that he did not commit. The judge, on Dec. 21, 2004, evacuated the charges. He was 24 when he entered prison, he is now 41.
But David Wong is not free to live his life now, free to make up for lost years by splashing through water parks and gorging on dim sum and waking up whenever he damn well feels like it and fretting about his career options like the rest of us, because the U.S. government wants to deport him. That's what happens when they falsely sentence you and you spend 17 years of your life in prison overalls bathed in the smells of institutional restriction because of other people's mistakes and malice. Apparently that makes you unfit to live in this country any more.
Find out more about his story, and sign a petition opposing his deportation at freedavidwong.org.
Posted by jennifer at 7:25 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Longtime Congressman Bob Matsui of Sacramento died Saturday night after entering the hospital Dec. 24 with pneumonia. His family said he had been diagnosed several months ago with a rare and often fatal form of bone marrow cancer.
Matsui, a Japanese American, was interned as an infant during World War II. He had represented a district in California's capital city since 1978 in the House of Representatives. The country has lost a tireless public servant.
Posted by harry at 5:33 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Longtime Congressman Bob Matsui of Sacramento died Saturday night after entering the hospital Dec. 24 with pneumonia. His family said he had been diagnosed several months ago with a rare and often fatal form of bone marrow cancer.
Matsui, a Japanese American, was interned as an infant during World War II. He had represented a district in California's capital city since 1978 in the House of Representatives. The country has lost a tireless public servant.
Posted by harry at 5:33 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Longtime Congressman Bob Matsui of Sacramento died Saturday night after entering the hospital Dec. 24 with pneumonia. His family said he had been diagnosed several months ago with a rare and often fatal form of bone marrow cancer.
Matsui, a Japanese American, was interned as an infant during World War II. He had represented a district in California's capital city since 1978 in the House of Representatives. The country has lost a tireless public servant.
Posted by harry at 5:33 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
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