Thank you, pioneers

I was going to post more pictures from my San Francisco trip back in November, but I somehow never got around to it.

But right now, I feel inspired. Today, between going to my taiko class, almost being done reading Stubborn Twig, and conversing at length about being a Japanese-American, I thought of these photos I took in San Francisco…

In Golden Gate Park, just outside of the Japanese Tea Garden, was this:

It’d be a huge understatement to say that life was tough for these pioneering immigrants. Thank you, thank you, and thank you for “leading the way.”

Stubborn Twig and Mochitsuki

It’s been quite a week for Japanese-American culture in Portland.

On January 15th, I went to a reading/talk by Lauren Kessler, the local author of Stubborn Twig, the selection for the Oregon Reads 2009 program. The idea is that people across the state will read this book over the next several months. Because of the subject matter — “Three Generations in the Life of a Japanese American Family,” the book cover says — I’d decided I better participate in this program and had picked up the book earlier in the week (with a Barnes&Noble gift certificate that was gathering dust!).

Lauren Kessler proved to be charming and smart. She read some passages from the book, yes, but she went beyond what most authors do at these readings and took some time to just talk, about the members of the Yasui family who are the subject of her book, about the immigrant experience, and about what it means to be an American. To be honest, I started out slightly skeptical of a white author writing about a Japanese-American family, but that seems to have been a result of my own prejudice. It’s obvious that Lauren Kessler, this woman of third-generation European descent, fully immersed herself into all aspects of this book, cares about the Yasui family and others like them, and has given a lot of deep thought into the nature of this Nation of Immigrants.

Over and over, I found myself mentally nodding at what she was saying. To grossly paraphrase, she talked about how America is a “patchwork quilt” and not a “melting pot,” that we can celebrate our differences and not become all the same while still being a cohesive unit, how there are some aspects to the immigrant experience that are universal no matter where you came from, and yet how in other ways things are different for a descendant of a Japanese immigrant versus a descendant of a European immigrant because some of us “wear our foreignness on our faces.”

One thing I found particularly insightful is when she said that it “takes the third generation” to want to recapture their grandparents’ culture and reconcile it with their own, after the first generation tends to cling on to their home country’s culture and the second generation tries to eschew their parents’ foreignness. I find that that’s very true despite the fact that it doesn’t directly apply to myself. But I’m neither first nor second generation, but an in-between “1.5 generation” as I’ve heard it called. Having been born in Japan and spending a short few years there (which makes me technically first generation) and then growing up in the United States (which also makes me have much in common with the second generation), I seem to have somehow gone through and transcended all three of these steps that Lauren Kessler talked about.

So now I go to events like Mochitsuki.

(Picture “stolen” from the Mochitsuki website, since my camera broke in Japan)

This year’s annual Japanese-American New Year’s celebration took place yesterday, January 17th at Portland Community College’s Sylvania campus.

There was the Cultural Fair with booths, an ice-carving demonstration through the Portland-Sapporo Sister City Association (it was definitely COLD enough outside!), and yes, mochi-pounding and mochi-eating. But the big event was the show that occurred in the Performing Arts Center.

And as with last year, the highlights for me were the performances by Portland Taiko. I love these guys. They’re imaginative, loud, and lots of fun. I love their bits of choreography and their powerful sound, and I love that they really have a modern sensibility that works. I actually took a class with them a year ago and thoroughly enjoyed it (I’ve always wanted to be a drummer, too!) but haven’t “gotten around” to continuing to take any more. I feel inspired…I wonder if they have spots left for the next class?

…And if you have no idea what I’m talking about with this taiko, go look it up! There’s other ensembles elsewhere in the country, particularly if you’re on the West Coast.

July 31, 2008

Today, I am an American.

Of course, being an American is about more than paying my $675 application and fingerprint fees, and getting an official piece of paper that says I’m a U.S. Citizen. It’s not even about the Oath of Allegiance I took.

When I started to tell people I’m applying for Naturalization, I got an alarming number of people tell me “Don’t do it!” – to varying degrees of seriousness. Now whether or not you agree with this sentiment, unless you’ve been holed up in a cave for the past five or ten years, I don’t have to explain where this response might be coming from. Yes, our government hasn’t been doing so well. I’m sure they’re at least partially responsible for the fact that I haven’t had a real job (or the health insurance that goes with one) in over a year. And of course, let’s not forget the death and destruction abroad.

But for better or worse, this land, the United States of America, is my home. I’m 24 years old, and I’ve lived here since I was a month shy of my 4th birthday. When I am in Japan, I feel like a foreigner. I do have some ties there: I remember a surprising amount of my early life there, I have relatives to visit, and I’ve been there enough times to know my way around. But I’ve known in my heart, for a long time, that it will never be home again.

And I do truly believe in the ideals and principles that this country was founded on. Isn’t that why we’re so angry with the current administration? Because they’ve done so much to try to circumvent the Bill of Rights? Am I not an American, to want to engage in this struggle, as a citizen of this Nation? Shouldn’t I vote?

I have paradoxical feelings about my Citizenship: at the same time that I feel like this is mostly just a formality at this point, I can’t help feeling that this is a profound moment. Last night, I sat and stared at my very first passport, long expired, with the photograph of my 3-year-old, baby-fat self and my mother’s signature on my behalf. There is only a single trip recorded on this passport: a one-way flight, departed from Narita Airport on October 18th, 1987. I somewhat remember that day. Mostly, I was blissfully playing a handheld game my parents had just bought me, completely oblivious to the fact that the direction of my life was about to drastically change.

I think of my late mother, and I think about what must have been going through her head that day. My dad is an adventurous, ever-optimistic type of person, but my mom was not so. I imagine her devastated to leave her friends, her family, and everything she knew in her life. I imagine her nervous about what the future will hold in a foreign country she’d never been to where she doesn’t speak the language, and worried sick about what all this will mean when it comes to raising her only daughter.

But this is a similar story to countless other immigrant stories, the stories that America is made of.

Today, I am an Asian-American.