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“I’m not half, I’m whole!”
“I hate the word ‘half,’ which is used to designate people like me. I always wanted to be someone who is ‘whole.’” The young man raised his eyes to the evening sky and gazed upon the rising moon. It suddenly struck me that Byron and I were like the moon. As we are called “half,” the moon we were looking at is called a “half moon.” But like the moon, “half” is an illusion; there is much more to the moon than what meets the eye and there is much more to us than what people see. Like the moon, we are not half, we are...
read moreWhen Half is Whole: Multiethnic Asian American Identities
When Half is Whole is a collection of stories of people whose lives balance diverse cultural heritages and construct border crossing identities. The themes of their lives involve balancing, connecting, and finding meaning in these multiethnic roots. Misunderstood, or regarded by others as “half,” the stories here show how these individuals have engaged in the process of becoming whole, by making meaning of their mixed heritage. In their searching they discover connections that bring them into contact with others;...
read moreFollowing You, Together in Cancer
My friend Soh died in autumn 2008 in St. Luke’s Hospital in Tokyo, the hospital where I was born. Strangely, I wasn’t so sad because I felt that he wanted to die. His wife Chio, his partner of 44 years, had died the previous spring in the same hospital. And Soh had stomach cancer and was waiting to die himself. But in the midst of his great sorrow, he discovered Chio’s journal and was uplifted from a feeling of complete exhaustion, receiving comfort, consolation, and encouragement, as if he could hear her voice, alive, reading her words....
read more“Wait . . . they had a white baby?!?!”
My niece recently had a baby, a beautiful boy. The proud grandmother showed the photo of the newborn to family members and everyone oohed and aahed. One of his cousins looked at the picture and said, “Oh he’s so cute!” But suddenly a puzzled look came over him and he blurted out, “Wait . . . they had a white baby?!?! When I heard this story I thought, Oh, it’s already started. People see colors and label according to what they see. The little cousin saw white and labeled the baby white. But mom is Japanese as well...
read moreCaring for Transnational Grandparents
When I walk in the park near my house in Palo Alto, California some of the elderly Chinese and Indians smile at me and my dogs while others are indifferent or scared. Like many immigrants who come here later in their lives to join children and grandchildren they are spending their last years far from their “home” countries. Their transnational families bring them here hoping that it is the best place for aging and dying. When we realized that she could no longer live alone in Japan, we brought Obaachan to the U.S. to die. No one actually...
read moreTiger Mom’s Hapa Cubs
Are persons with one Asian parent and one non-Asian parent Asian or not Asian? Schools don’t seem to know where to place them, leaving them on their own to determine their identities. In the article, “Some Asians’ college strategy: Don’t check ‘Asian,’” some young Hapa reveal the ambivalence and flexibility surrounding their identities. Parents wondering if they should regard their kids as Asian might take a lesson from Tiger Mom Amy Chua, who raised two Hapa children. Amy describes her two girls, Sophia and Lulu, as...
read moreHidden Hapa
“Hey, what are you doing over there with the Hapa?” Kathy and I looked over and there were three of our Japanese American friends at another table smiling at us, one with a mischievous grin. Sandy had jokingly pointed out that I was a mixed blood amidst a group of full bloods. Kathy and I smiled back at them and returned to our conversation. But Kathy suddenly surprised me by saying, “Actually, I’m kind of mixed too; my mother is from Okinawa; like an interracial marriage to Japanese.” I looked over at my friends and remembered that...
read more“You’re Irish?” Celebrating Hidden Identities
“You’re Irish?” I introduced myself to the Irishman by my father’s family name Murphy and watched as he stared at me in seeming disbelief and confusion before uttering, “Well, it’s a good name anyway.” I recalled this incident recently as I celebrated St. Patrick’s Day with a bunch of other Irishmen. The Boston Globe carried an interesting story that day—St. Patrick’s Day Holds Mixed Emotions For Some—that introduced some other Irish who celebrated their heritage with complex feelings. There was Ryan McCollum, whom...
read moreWe are not our bodies
I was shocked when I found out that Julia was only 43 years old. She was in the mid- stages of ALS when we met and was losing voluntary control of her body. The first time I sat by her bedside and talked to her I was aware of an intense feeling of fear inside myself. I wondered what it was like for her, living inside that crippled body. I kept imagining how beautiful she must have been and how tragic it was that her body was now being ravaged by such a debilitating disease. Despite her deterioration, Julia always smiled when we were together....
read moreMy Transnational, Hapa Identity in Question
I like to say that I have a transnational, multicultural, multiethnic identity. I am hapa, haafu, I am both/and, Japanese AND American. But I know that many others still see the world in dichotomies, as either/or, Japanese OR American. I know what I look like. I’ve seen my face in the mirror before. But I forget that others might see me differently than I see myself. And I know who I am. But I am aware that others usually do not know me. I was reminded of this while riding in a taxi with my 108 year-old grandmother in Matsuyama, a city on...
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