Why am I smiling?

Blog #5

Evacuation

As we boarded the bus

Bags on both sides

(I had never packed two bags before

On a vacation

Lasting forever)

The Seattle Times photographer said

Smile!

So obediently I smiled

And the caption the next day

Read:

Note smiling faces

A lesson to Tokyo. – (Yamada, 13)

Out of all the poems this week I liked this one the best; possibly because I looked at numerous photos this week of the Japanese internment camps.  I can’t imagine what it would have been like to have to pack a few suitcases of my belongings not knowing when I would return to my home or if I would return to my home.  There is a hint of that in this poem in which Yamada says “I had never packed two bags before on a vacation lasting forever.” There was such an uncertainty to the rounding up of the Japanese-Americans that would have been daunting.  The most troubling component to me about this poem and the pictures that I have viewed is the smiling faces.  Why are they smiling? “The caption the next day read: Note smiling faces a lesson to Tokyo” (Yamada, 13).  Was the purpose of looking happy to teach Japan something?  Was it the fact that the Japanese could be discriminated against and yet stand strong and persevere?  Or was this the only way in which they were able to cope with what appears to be a hopeless situation? 

I tried to imagine myself there.  I tried to think about how I would feel if the government told me to pack up a few of my things and take my children and board a bus or train because it was time for me to relocate. So here is how I felt:

 Their only reason for relocating me and my family was because of the color of my skin. I suppose I pose some threat but this threat they speak of I do not understand. I love this country.  My family has been in this land for a generation and we all pledge allegiance to the United States.  I have heard through the gossip chain that the U.S. wants us to denounce our loyalty to the emperor of Japan.  Again I do not understand what they are talking about.  Loyalty to the emperor of Japan? I’ve never met the man and furthermore, I’ve never been to Japan.  Japan is a country that my parents came from but I myself do not know.  I know nothing but the U.S. and I love this place; this is my country.  The government apparently does not see it this way.  They must think that I’m a traitor or a potential spy.  So without resistance, I pack my things to leave.  I look at my half empty house and I am filled with worry and fear of the unknown.  Will I be gone a week, a month, a year?  No one can answer my questions or ease my anxiety.  I gather my children and leave.  We board a train and off we go.  Our destination is a fenced in area with barbed wire and armed guards; this is where we now call home.  A photographer takes our picture and before he does he says “Smile!”  We comply.  Why did we smile?  I am not happy.  Part of me is trying to save face.  I’m trying to be strong for my children.  I want them to continue to live life as they did before.  I want them to play and have fun.  I want to make our new home as comfortable and “normal” as I can.  Yet part of being told to smile does not sit well with me.  What part of this seems okay to this photographer?  What is the purpose of his photo?  Who will he be giving it to?  Are they trying to give off the impression that we all are fine with our new location?  We continue to fake our intoxication with this new place but we must come off as false.  We can’t possibly be that convincing.  If we were, why does no one believe us when we say we love the United States and we pledge our allegiance to them?  I guess it is a survival tactic.  At least it is for me and my children. I hope we won’t stay here long but for now, I will make the best of it and try and pretend that I am on an extended vacation; one I hope will end soon.  As for my photographs, I want people to see behind the smile and recognize the pain and confusion that is buried deep within.

American Heroes??? Not in Vietnam during their down time.....

Blog #4

The presence of America’s military in Vietnam was nothing to be admired and in hindsight was downright senseless.   Despite the political implications surrounding their dominance in Vietnam, they left an impression on children as being heroes yet during their imperialistic reign they were destroying a country; both its landscape and the people who they used for their own pleasure would be left with the aftermath of their occupation.  “Mango” by Christian Langworthy was sad to say the least.  Sa and Dung seemed to idolize American soldiers and their mother used the soldiers in order to care for her two sons.  While no judgment is passed on the mother, she was doing what she had to do to take care of her kids; it was the way that the soldier’s presence was not only in their country but in their house-that’s a little too close to home for my comfort.  Their influence was being left on these two young impressionable boys.  “Mother’s clients were all around us, on the street corners and in the pool halls. They were prison guards, truck drivers, mechanics, and pilots.  They were sergeants and majors, captains and corporals.  They lived on the military bases, in their Quonset huts and in clusters of green tents.  I watched them as they performed their duties in the prisons, on the streets, or on the landing zones.  I watched them pilot their Huey and Chinook helicopters.  My brother and I caught the bubble gum they threw from the back of the deuce-and-a-half trucks as their convoys rumbled by.  I was fascinated with the soldiers and their weapons of war.  They were my heroes” (Langworthy, 225-226).  The soldiers were there then they were gone.  “The men in the green uniforms entered and left our lives” (Langworthy, 227).  I would imagine that this would be confusing for children especially when they witnessed their mother working.  “On a table in the center of the room, a soldier was bending over Mother.  My brother and I approached the table and walked around it.  Mother told us to go back to sleep, but we ignored her and watched.  She was wearing a blouse, but was naked from the waist down.  The soldier’s green trousers hung around his ankles.  His hips moved up and down like he was trying to climb on top of her” (Langworthy, 226).  This particular scene bothers me to no end.  As a mother, I personally would never prostitute to care for my children but I understand that some women feel that this is their only option.  With that said, if I did turn tricks, I would not have my clients anywhere near my house or my children.  Building off of last week’s post about the love of a mother and their influence, I don’t think she was a bad mom but her influence combined with that of the soldiers had to have a huge impact on these two boys.  I don’t know what to make of this story.  Clearly their mother was a prostitute and her “clients” were the American military.  One would think that after her services had been rendered they would leave yet in many cases, “increasingly, they were sleeping in our bungalow” (Langworthy, 227).  I understand that the boys’ father was not present and honestly, I don’t think they were killed.  I think they were two of their mother’s clients and she either didn’t know who they were or they were simply nowhere to be found; possibly they were already back in the U.S. starting families of their own and had no idea these children even existed.  They just wanted to have a good time for a few minutes not produce children and then subsequently raise them.  The two boys seemed so excited when they saw an American soldier at their house with roller skates and the possibility that this could be one of their dads seemed to overwhelm them with joy but alas, he was only there to have his sexual needs met and the toy was a distraction to get the children to leave the house.  I know that if it was up to most of these soldiers, they would have never been in Vietnam and I understand that “men have needs” but I think their presence in Vietnam did more damage than good especially to the children that witnessed them and unfortunately in many cases, these children idolized them and revered them as heroes.

A Mother's Love, Quest, and Influence

Blog #3


The role and impact of a mother in her child’s life is just as, if not more influential, than that of any other person their child encounters throughout a lifetime. Both mother and father contribute to shaping their children and have a profound impact on the type of person that the child will become as an adult. Sometimes this influence is positive and at other times it is negative but regardless of the positive or negative effects that parents have, the point is how much they influence and impact their children.

In Shawn Wong’s Homebase his mother shaped who he was as a man just as much as the stories of his forefathers. In his search for place and identity, he was able to resolve so many unanswered questions within himself based on the way his mother talked to him and related to him. Her interactions with her son always seemed to be what he needed however he didn’t seem to realize her motivation behind things until after she was dead. By the age of fifteen, Rainsford was an orphan and it was his reflections upon his mothers teachings that contributed to him realizing who he was, where he was from, and that he had truly become his father, his father’s father, and his great-grandfather. He was all of these men despite them all leaving this world by the time our protagonist was seven. Rainsford’s mother made sure he knew how to iron clothes, schooled him in the floral business, and how to properly shake a man’s hand. “Shake it again. Harder. Harder. I shook her hand as firmly as I could. ‘Now, whenever you are introduced to another man, remember to shake his hand as firmly as you can. End of lesson’” (Wong, 44). In addition to teaching him things that would benefit him both personally and socially, she also kept his father alive by telling Rainsford about his father, and grandfather, and great-grandfather. “My mother knew she had to tell me about his youth and the lives of my grandfathers as he had told her. She had to tell me who kept pace with his youth, what was the grief that shaped his sensibility, and who struggled to make a place for him, for me. She had to make me more than just her husband’s son, more than understanding his sensibility, but rather make me realize it on my own and sometime in my life say simply ‘I am the son of my father’” (Wong, 39). The other thing that his mother did was encouraging habits and fostering characteristics that were similar is not identical to his father’s. This was her purpose, her mission, her goal to create a man that would be like and would honor the men before him. “I brought to her bedside my water polo awards, the swimming medals. But she saw that I was now like my father, the track star, the basketball and ice hockey player, and whether I had realized it then or not did not matter to her, she had succeeded in forming me into her notion of manly style, and in her eyes I had become simply her husband’s son” (Wong, 37). The mother of this story successfully turned her son into what she believed his ancestors to be and he would continue to honor their history and legacy not just within their family but within this country.

picture: http://www.kued.org/productions/chineseamerican/resources/pressphotos.html

Chinese vs. Irish

Blog #2




Gish Jen’s “Who’s Irish?” showed not only that there is a generation gap between grandmother, mother, and daughter but also a cultural disparity between the Chinese side of the family and the Irish. To add to the mix of culture, they are living in America in which a third culture comes into play. What I like most about this story the grandmother/narrator’s relationship with Sophie, her granddaughter. She does not understand this child nor does she agree with how her parents are raising her. All she sees is a wild child that needs to be tamed; needs to be, in her opinion, more Chinese. “Nothing the matter with Sophie’s outside, that’s the truth. It is inside that she is like not any Chinese girl I ever see. We go to the park, and this is what she does. She stand up in the stroller. She take off her all her clothes and throw them in the fountain” (Jen, 180). Multiple times, she references how children in China do not act like her. “Millions of children in China, not one act like this” (Jen, 183). Since Sophie is half Chinese and half Irish, the grandmother is convinced “there is more trouble with Sophie, but now I think I can help her Chinese side fight against her wild side” (Jen, 182). I take this to mean that the Chinese side will fight the Irish side and will win. Based on the above mentioned quotes, it appears that Sophie looks Chinese but the Irish side, her wild side, is what is controlling her behavior.

One thing about Sophie is her will power; her determination to get her way. Try as she might, grandmother cannot break her spirit. Repeated spankings, loss of food and no more trips to the park might work temporarily but Sophie continues to do as she wishes. “A Chinese child would give up but not Sophie” (Jen, 184). I must admit, the child did seem a little out of control or was she just being a three year old? Was grandmother unable to get Sophie to behave as she wanted her to because Sophie had two parents who were counterproductive when it came to disciplining her? They believed they could talk to her and rationalize with her. You cannot rationalize with a three year old! This is where cultural and generational conflict comes in. The grandmother I’m sure used similar methods on her daughter but by the time her daughter had her own daughter, she approached parenting and discipline in a much different way plus she was married to a man who came from a different background (Irish) than hers and based on how lazy he and his siblings appeared to be and the fact that their mother continued to take care of them into adulthood is most likely a reflection of what life was like when they were growing up. They didn’t have to do anything and mommy will take care of everything. There was also the American conflict in that “In America, parents not supposed to spank the child. It gives them low self-esteem, my daughter say. And that leads to problems later, as I happen to know” (Jen, 181). All of these factors clashed making it difficult for grandmother to understand Sophie and discipline her effectively.

I loved this piece. There were several parts that made me laugh but mostly I could feel grandmother’s frustration in trying to control a child that simply was not willing to be controlled. Was it is Chinese side? Her Irish side? Or simply a product of two parents who were too busy and diluted in their thinking about child rearing that created such an unruly little girl? I love that the Chinese grandmother had an elitist attitude in her assessment of Sophie in that it must be her Irish side that makes her wild, it could never be her Chinese side since Chinese girls do not act like she acted.

I've attached Mily Cyrus' video "Can't be Tamed".  While I know it has nothing to do with Asian/Irish culture, she claims she can't be tamed or controlled, just like little Sophie!

Miley Cyrus - Can't Be Tamed