Something very nice -
Apr. 14th, 2009 01:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kyburgAnother magazine site for me to read on a regular basis.
At lunch at a San Mateo, CA, ramen shop the other day I shared my new way of thinking with a dear friend from the gym. “You know,” I said to Junko while slurping a spoonful of shio ramen, “I don’t want to be called ha-fu anymore. Ha-fu makes it sounds like I don’t belong anywhere, like I’m not part of any race, like …”
Junko, who was born in Japan, gently cut me off and smiled. “You’re not ha-fu,” she said. “You’re a Double.”
I paused for a moment, surprised that Junko knew the term I had learned in 2001 while studying in Japan on a research grant. The term came from a 1995 documentary called “Doubles,” which chronicled the lives of children born to Japanese and American couples after WWII.
“Exactly. I am all black … and all Japanese,” I said. “I’m a double.”
It isn't priviledge to know where you belong. Just tuck that away somewhere. It's sheer, unmitigated happiness.
(People wonder why I'm always 'outside the box' - dudes. Every time I went to 'the box' it was empty. It's not priviledge to decide that I'm not my race or 'my box" - nor it is always easy, friendly or comfortable. It's just me. And at some point, I simply stopped caring what other people thought, if I was comfortable within my own skin. I have to live with it - not them.)
At lunch at a San Mateo, CA, ramen shop the other day I shared my new way of thinking with a dear friend from the gym. “You know,” I said to Junko while slurping a spoonful of shio ramen, “I don’t want to be called ha-fu anymore. Ha-fu makes it sounds like I don’t belong anywhere, like I’m not part of any race, like …”
Junko, who was born in Japan, gently cut me off and smiled. “You’re not ha-fu,” she said. “You’re a Double.”
I paused for a moment, surprised that Junko knew the term I had learned in 2001 while studying in Japan on a research grant. The term came from a 1995 documentary called “Doubles,” which chronicled the lives of children born to Japanese and American couples after WWII.
“Exactly. I am all black … and all Japanese,” I said. “I’m a double.”
It isn't priviledge to know where you belong. Just tuck that away somewhere. It's sheer, unmitigated happiness.
(People wonder why I'm always 'outside the box' - dudes. Every time I went to 'the box' it was empty. It's not priviledge to decide that I'm not my race or 'my box" - nor it is always easy, friendly or comfortable. It's just me. And at some point, I simply stopped caring what other people thought, if I was comfortable within my own skin. I have to live with it - not them.)
