Being honest: my (interracial) relationship anxieties

I haven’t made real resolutions for 2012. But a few nights ago, I lay in my bed, tossing and turning thanks to West Coast jet lag, I promised myself that I should be more honest about my emotions and try to write them down more.

So here’s a start: my interracial relationship makes me feel anxious sometimes.

When I go to the Korean-run grocery stores with my boyfriend, I unconsciously start walking faster to be in front of him – rather than beside him – because I’m afraid the grocers will judge me for being with him. I am aware of how this makes me sound. But I am being honest – don’t worry, my boyfriend has already noticed made fun of me for this tendency.

I am afraid of my hypothetical children not knowing about their Korean heritage, or even worse, being ashamed of their Korean heritage, like I was for a long time in my teens. I am afraid of not being able to pass my culture or teach my children about their heritage in a meaningful way.

Of course, the above statement shows just how irrational and unfounded my shame is. My full-fledged “Korean-ness” did not mitigate the shame about my heritage. I am too embarrassed to count the times I wished my parents could make me a nice casserole and speak better English during my teen years.

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I remember the first time I felt the racial politics of dating. One of my old housemates in university had invited one of his friends over our shared house. He was a nice guy; we chatted a little, but I didn’t think much of it after. After this guy left, however, my housemate came up to me all smiley-faced and asked: “So? What did you think of [guy whose name I have now completely forgotten]?”

“…I don’t know? He’s nice?”

At this point I realized that what my housemate had in mind was match-making. Because this guy was Asian, I was Asian, and we both liked English lit! Actually, it wasn’t a bad guess, and I’m not blaming my former housemate for this at all. But it was definitely a moment where I recognized my racial difference demarcating my “dating territory,” per se.

Maybe I’ve internalized that moment in my mind too much. I do that. And I know how much of a burden this internalization has been to my very patient partner. I know I have acted unfairly against him because of my own mixed feelings. But I’m learning to get over my shame and learning to get over the propaganda about pure-bloodedness and the link between ethnicity and culture. I think about how hard I would have to work in order to communicate my own confused identity to my hypothetical future children no matter what. I think about how love was not born with a rational mind, but a need to have happiness in an intangible, incalculable way.

A friend recently said to me: “If you worry about everything, you’ll just be alone anyway.” And what good would being alone and paranoid do to furthering my culture and heritage, if that were the case?

 

What I discovered in 2011

In general, 2011 was a year of many changes. I went back to school after a brief break, changed disciplines, and changed my laptop loyalty to good ol’ Apple. Here are some new things that became a part of my life this year:

Thankful for Montreal

This is my 4th year in Montreal – including one where I lived as an “actual” working resident and not just as a student. In Montreal I learned how to appreciate a late night out on a terrasse, pick up my French and perfect my franglais, enjoy hot dogs and ground beef in my poutine, and sweat it out in tiny crowded rooms of art festivals. I also learned how to enjoy a good picnic on the mountain and Oka cheese.

I finished my exams yesterday – all 5 of’em. Because school was so intense and busy this term, I had almost forgotten about the unique, diverse and beautiful city that exists outside of school. So I took today to remedy that situation. Here are some photos from the day:

Outside Mont-Royal station

If you live in the Plateau, Lallouz Café & Kebaberie opened a new location on St-Laurent and Mont-Royal. You should go and admire the beautiful decoration and incredible pickled vegetables.

Also, Paolo’s Café (a few doors down from Café Lallouz) makes delicious espresso allongés. And isn’t my friend Laura adorable?

Thanks, Montreal. See you in the new year.

Discussing the Protect Life Act

I’m knee-deep in exam preparation these days. But here’s something I wrote before all of that started – a post for the McGill Journal of Law and Health blog (where I’m one of the web editors) about the Protect Life Act that’s currently undergoing Senate debates in the States.

On student activism, rights, and having a voice

I took this photo at the newly renamed Community Square (or James Square) at McGill today, where about a 1000 (!) students gathered to voice their opinions, share their frustrations and deep disappointments at what took place on Nov. 10. For non-Quebeckers, a recap: there was a city-wide protest from students at all 4 universities in Montreal that day. 14 students decided to peacefully occupy James Administration building to voice their concerns. Their protests were countered by riot police, who responded with physical assault, pepper spray, and tear gas. 

The students and faculty members came together to strategize about how to heal, how to respond, and most importantly, to keep exercising the rights – of free speech, of freedom of expression – in times where such things seem to be losing their ground. It was inspiring to see such a big turnout, such mobilizing powers and such articulation from my university.

Of course, there are mixed reactions. Some people see this as nothing more than a bunch of whiny university students complaining about things when we have it so good in a place like McGill/Montreal/Canada. This re-framing of student protests is what concerns me about how society sees activism these days as nothing more than a frivolity or an overreaction, and I am not alone in the concern, as one distinguished McGill alumnus (now a professor of political theory at University of Maryland) discusses the history of university protests, and building occupation (as well as teach-ins ans sit-ins) as “well established forms of student protests.”

I feel concerned that somehow, voicing concern about having one’s rights (to demand a place in the negotiating table) eroded is now being framed as entitlement, rather than the right course of action. I feel concerned that because our conditions are better than other places, students/citizens are supposed to just “take it” and be complacent with what we’ve got. Such conception of society deprives an aspirational ideal that democratic societies are founded upon, where we should always be striving for more justice, rather than “make do” with the status quo.

Yes, it’s true that Quebec has some of the lowest tuition in North America, and that Canada as a whole is a pretty good place to live, and that McGill in general is more peaceful than other places. But people fought hard for those “good” conditions – they didn’t come out of a vacuum. It’s so hard to gain equality but so easy to lose it, little by little – and I see this is exactly what the Charest government and the administration is trying to do. I am glad to see that McGill students and faculty members are resisting that imposition, in trying to make the university what it’s supposed to be – a place where ideas can be exchanged and democratic ideals can be held to their highest esteem.

I wrote a book review.

Thought I’d share one of the last things I wrote before school began – a fiction review of Edem Awumey’s novel Dirty Feet. I’ve somehow carved myself a niche of reviewing tales of migration. I like it.

 

 

Am I still a feminist?

 

The trailer for the film “Miss Representation” seems very promising in its exposure of media’s harmful effect on young women. I hope to see it in Montreal theatres soon. This also seems to have come at an appropriate time, right when I’m starting to doubt my own feminist orientation after an incident like the photo below:

Image from Racialicious.com

The recent controversy surrounding the NYC Slutwalk involved a white woman marched with a sign that said “Woman is N***** of the World” – after the John Lennon/Yoko Ono duet. According to this Racialicious post, a black woman did ask the protester to take the sign down – but not before many pictures had already been taken.

Lots of good responses have been circulating on the internet already, like this one from Crunk Feminist Collective, so I’ll try not to be redundant.

It’s disconcerting to me that it took a woman of colour to point out the problem of the message. It also troubles me to see that some people are defending the sign because apparently John and Yoko had no racist intent (and here we are, talking about intention again).

Ever since I was 19 I’ve been calling myself a feminist. Yet, these days I find myself qualifying that word – I’m a feminist interested in anti-racist work, I’m a feminist interested in LGBTQ rights also, etc. If mainstream feminism is so race-blind that it takes a woman of colour to correct it, then where is the hope? If I continue to call myself a feminist will I just be a smattering of “diversity” at the mostly-white table of big-league feminists? I also see the insidious mark of capitalism seeping in, where feminism is now about book deals and speaking engagements at universities and/or luncheons that aren’t very accessible to those who might need it the most. Has feminism been co-opted so much that it’s only about expanding one’s social capital rather than growing a strong society? The proliferation of faux-”empowerment” books for women that has not translated into more representation of women in leadership positions in society certainly seems to indicate that.  What have I, a 1.5-generation immigrant woman of colour, have actually done for women like me in the times I’ve called myself a feminist? Is it time to frame myself in another ‘-ism’ to actually give back to the community, rather than pat myself on the back for coming this far?

On student life and university as a workplace

Oh hi, remember when I used to have a blog? Or read the news everyday? It’s amazing how a month into school has changed that so dramatically. I used to have so much to say, but I found myself sitting in front of my laptop for an hour this evening drawing a blank, unable to come up with a blog post topic. Which is not to say I’m not enjoying school, but the myopia of being a full-time student isn’t very enjoyable. I find myself interested and engaged in what I’m learning but I also find myself making excuses about going to cool talks, or supporting causes I’m passionate about, all under the umbrella excuse of “I’m tired; I was at school all day.” These excuses are technically true, but it just makes me feel so one-dimensional and robotic to let go of the other parts of my personality for the sake of…what, exactly? Do I suspend my civic engagement for the promise of a greater engagement later, but what if that “later” never comes? These are just some of the issues I’m trying to work out these days in the brief two minutes I have before I close the awkwardly-sized course packs and head to bed.

But here is one issue I’d like to discuss, because it’s been an issue happening close to me. The McGill University Non-Academic Certified Association (MUNACA) has been on strike since September 1. The main issue MUNACA members demanded was the right to negotiate (or the fact that the administration had the unilateral right to change or take away pension or benefits after the members paid into it every year). Clearly, the administration is unwilling to do so because it is now week 6 of the strike. Not much negotiation has happened in the meantime – McGill did file an injunction to get the peaceful protesters off the university grounds, which only increased tension. The way that the administration came down on the strike has been disappointing to say the least – the unwillingness to negotiate, the constant finger-pointing and hand-wringing, as well as the rather forceful attempt to silence any discussion or disobedience has been disturbing to watch as a student. Here are Provost Masi and Vice-Principal Michael Di Grappa in an altercation with student solidarity protesters:

I understand these are tough economic times, when all that  governments seem to do is cut budget. Yes, something’s got to give; but whose “something” always ends up giving and who gets to keep their larger-than-fair share? Why is it that students can only receive updates from the administration in their email inboxes but that they need to go to an external website to read the MUNACA perspective (which silences MUNACA’s position further)? Why is the administration threatening professors who are respecting picket lines by choosing to teach off-campus? I am not saying that this is a black and white issue with a clear right and wrong, but the administration sure isn’t making it easy.

And for that, I feel pretty disappointed in my university.

This month’s race-fails

Photo by Anthony Morgan, published in the Montreal Gazette

The Université de Montréal made headlines this month thanks to its blackface incidents, where business students dressed up as “Jamaican sprinters.” Some were wearing green and yellow tracksuits, some were carrying monkey dolls, and some were carrying bananas. The incident was widely reported thanks to the McGill law student Anthony Morgan, who happened to be on campus that day. When some of the students saw him, they yelled “Look guys, we’ve got a real black!” and then chanted, “Smoke some weed! Yeah mon! Yeah mon!”

It is shocking to me that an orientation group thought this was a good idea in the first place – did nobody object to this idea? The University’s response to the incident is also disappointing, as they harken back to the tired intentionality argument – that nobody meant any harm, so there is none, right? – that’s more of an excuse than an apology.

Then there was the Vogue Nippon photoshoot, where model Crystal Renn was photographed with her eyes taped back. Threadbared did a great analysis of this already, but I want to reiterate how vague Renn’s explanation is on the reasons of taping her eyes. She does acknowledge that it makes her “become something else” as well as focusing on the “transformation” aspects of taping her eyes, yet is unwilling to say what exactly is being transformed by refusing to admit that taping one’s eyes back is not historically linked to yellowface (or “race drag” as the Threadbared authors call it). Again, we see the intentionality argument creeping up – race wasn’t on anyone’s mind – which is somehow supposed to nullify the result. This is a trend I find very disturbing and very linked to incidents of racism.

By creating a link between intention and outcome, racism becomes only visible to those who are racially “marked” – the ones who experience being racially “other” and thus a problem which does not concern those who are considered racially blank. By exonerating the problematic nature of an event with “good” intention, these incidents try to become “one-time” singular incidents and ignore the systemic and historical tradition of racism that has been happening for centuries. I hope that both the University and fashion magazines would take these incidents as lessons, but I feel a touch naive in saying so, and know that things like this will happen again. So what does that leave me with? Not much, I suppose  - except a question, “how can we teach the concept of racism from a young age so people recognize it?” and the hope that you, the few readers of this blog, walk away at least thinking  about racial stereotypes in our culture a little more critically.

I used to write…

While I’m (still) adjusting to my new schedule, here’s some writing I did before my life got really, really occupied with school again:

I had the pleasure of guest posting for Franca at Oranges and Apples while she’s off  honeymooning – it’s about my first Euro-trip at the age of 16, and the little not-quite-a-fling I experienced in southern Italy and Greece.

Alex and I had a chat about the first-ever scholarship for LGBTQ-identified students at Elmhurst College in Illinois, and its implications, over at The Gaily.