Mixed Kids are not Prettier: Blowing Up “Hybrid Vigor”

Okay, I am a bit sick of hearing people talk about mixed folks like we’re some sort of science experiment:

A few days ago, my cousin (“E”), his girlfriend (“J”), and I (“me”) met up with a married couple that they are friends with. In this couple, the man is a white Australian man, and the woman is a Chinese woman. (*1) The guy’s a nice one, but he’s not killing it in the looks department. The woman (also quite wonderful) is average-looking. (*2) She’s pregnant.

So after we part ways, “J” (also Chinese) is excited about the baby, and she says, “I can’t wait for their baby to be born – she is going to be so beautiful. Because she is Chinese and he is a foreigner, the baby must be so pretty.”

Record-scratch. I look at her, “What?!” I don’t say it, but I’m thinking – ‘Has she looked at the father? What is wrong with people?’

Because this isn’t the first time I’ve heard this kind of thing. I hear it all the time – “mixed kids are just so pretty.” And – although I’d love to bathe in the ego-stroking that entails (an interesting counterpoint to “Asian men aren’t hot”) – I’m not having it. And before I break it down further, let me just say that I know plenty of mixed folks, and there’s not always a whole lot of “beautiful” running around (I’m sorry, but I just got to be honest here).  The few that are actually above-average? Well, the ones with the above-average parents, of course. Just like with the majority of pretty “mono-racial” children.

It doesn’t end there, though. I’ve also heard that mixed kids are “so intelligent” (mostly here in China). I’ve even been told (back in high school) that “all mixed kids are just so nice.” (*3)

When this topic gets brought up on a larger level – how beautiful and wonderful and healthy mixed kids are – we inevitably get a reference to “hybrid vigor.” In these cases, the person making the argument (wrongly) describes “hybrid vigor” as the genetic superiority of “cross-bred” animals and plants in the world. “It’s science,” they say – and people usually buy it.

Well, sorry, people – but this particular gorgeous, super-intelligent and wondrously kind mixed-race “cross-breed” has a science background. And y’all – apparently, from your mis-use of scientific understanding – don’t.

So step into my class for a second.

First-off, don’t wrongly cite Gregor Mendel and his pea-experiments as any sort of evidence – either way – of “hybrid vigor.” Yes, his cross-breeds did better than those plants he did not cross-breed, on an overall level.

But . . . uh . . . you’re missing a vital fact here: those plants that he didn’t cross-breed? He self-pollinated them. As in, they were inbred. Even closer relatives than brother and sister – because the sex cells came from the same plant. It was practically cloning. And even though lots of people like to say members of a particular “mono-racial” group “all look the same,” you’re really not all clones.

Okay, so then our faulty scientists will say, “well fine, what about with dogs and pigs and horses and sheep, etc.? Cross-breeding them increases fitness.”

Well, yes and no. First off, “hybrid vigor” actually just references the times when cross-breeding happens to increase fitness – not a fact that it always occurs. There’s another term, “outbreeding depression,” for when cross-breeding causes more problems. So, again, y’all are skipping some important details.

“But cross-breeding more often increases fitness, then.” Sure, sure. In dogs and pigs and other domestic animals, that’s true. But again – look at the comparison – those animals that do not get cross-bred: these are either “pure-bred” animals (like pugs, for instance) or “inbred” animals. We’ve talked about inbreeding (and no, I don’t think mono-racial folks are all the products of thousands of years of inbreeding), so . . .

“Pure-breeds”? Artificially, selectively-bred animals? These are animals that have been forced to breed together for many many generations to enhance some specific physical characteristics – at the cost of a lot of health problems. These are not real-world animals. Outside of the domesticated world, “pure-breeds” simply do not exist. Because, in the real world, “pure-breeds” would die out within a couple generations because of all their problems. All that remains in the natural world are cross-bred animals.

So comparing races or ethnicities to “breeds” is just lazy, and poor science. Every racial and ethnic group out there is a result of “cross-breeding.” Our human gene pool is all mixed up – because we have been (mostly) avoiding the inbreeding and artificial selection that creates domestic animals. Our DNA is more varied within any particular “racial group” than it is between them. Which then suggests that – if any of this “science” can be applied to human beings – then, perhaps, so-called “mono-racial” offspring would be more likely to have the advantage of “hybrid vigor” than multi-racial offspring.

Of course, that would also be abusing the science, but I hope you can see my point – there is no such thing as “purity” in race. Every “race” is the result of hundreds of thousands of years of inter-breeding, cross-breeding. We’ve survived as long as we have because we are not “pure.”

Mixed kids? The result of exactly the same reproductive processes and selection pressures as the rest of humanity. Flat-out. (*4) Some of us are super-hot or wondrously intelligent (or both), for sure. But, sorry, some of us just have to pull on inner beauty or wouldn’t exactly astound others with our coherence of thought (or both), as well.

Untrue “positive” stereotypes like this are just as damaging as negative ones (on a large scale). Allowing ourselves to be reduced to the equivalence of domesticated animals? Hell no. Let somebody “other” you in a “positive” way, and you’re just setting yourself up for the negative stereotypes and prejudice to follow suit – and trust me, it’s going to happen.

And, finally, for those anecdotalists out there who want to say, “but, really, all the mixed people I know really are beautiful,” I’ve got some things for you to ask yourself:

First off – are they “beautiful” simply because they’re “different” and “exotic?” That would be my first guess if they literally all are so gorgeous, in your eyes. And I don’t need to go further into that one about why that’s not okay.

Second – honestly, how many normal, everyday mixed people do you make note of? What does it take for you to even get to the point where you know for sure that we are mixed? Chances are, for us to be noticed on that level, we either have to be in the media (which is going to obviously over-represent the “hot” mixed folks), or else we just have to stand out from the backdrop of everyday life. And if we’re good-looking, that’s one way to do so.

I mean, how often do you think about or even ask some “below-average” guy or gal, “wow – you have such an interesting look, what is your racial background?” Right. You don’t. So you likely aren’t even aware of the thousands of mixed people you walked right by on the street that were not “beautiful.”

It’s Confirmation Bias, people (and if you don’t know what that is, it’s important – please look it up).

Mixed folks are great – GO US – but it’s simply not due to our genetic difference from the rest of humanity. We are not aliens; we are not dogs or other domesticated animals. We’re just another socially-defined group of people, and a force to be reckoned with – like the rest of our species.

And if you still don’t believe me . . ? Well, dang, please don’t make me be such a jerk that I have to send you photos . . .

(*1) In general, if I say “Chinese” without specifying another country of origin, then I mean born and raised in China and of Han (majority) ethnicity.

(*2) For perhaps the only time on this blog, I’m working off a general, super-shallow societal concept of physical “beauty” here, because that’s the level on which I mean to take this stereotype down. If people were talking about mixed-race folks being “beautiful” within a completely different framework for beauty, then we’d be living in a better world than we do.

(*3) Man, I thought of so many ways to disprove that last one after the fact, but – in the moment – I was too surprised to do much of anything.

(*4) This is just  common-sense, and it bothers me how people who have no idea what they’re talking about mis-read scientific findings to “prove” damaging theories like this.

(*5) And yes, I am wholly conscious of the fact that this entire post so fully falls out the way I lament we teach our kids to “argue” in my “Broken System, Part III.” Sigh . . . see what prejudice can do to a guy?

 

 

F-ing History Channel

Usually, I write my posts with a clear-head, go back and look them over, edit, clarify – to make sure what I put out there is relatively polished. But right now – that’s not going to happen. You’re going to get unpolished, raw, straight-from-my-mind writing. This is the CVT uncut – a look into the mind of somebody who carries the weight of race every damn second . . . hope you learn something.

This will be short and bitter.

Just watched "How Bruce Lee Changed the World," a History Channel special about Bruce Lee’s influence on popular culture, and it made me sick inside.

How they took this man’s legacy – a beacon of strength and hope and positive role-modeling for Asian people (and Chinese, especially) – and made something like this show boggles my mind.

In short, for the makers of this show, when they say "the World," they really mean the U.S. (and maybe a couple European countries). The "experts" they interview about Bruce Lee are a bunch of random white guys who have literally no direct connection to the man. I admit that they actually have a few key interviews with some people of color . . . but it’s LL Cool J, Margaret Cho, the RZA – fine people, all, but what the Hell are they doing speaking on behalf of Bruce Lee’s influence on "the world"? (*1) And where are the Chinese folks? Bruce Lee WAS Chinese, right?

The one segment when the show discusses Bruce Lee’s positive influence on the role of Asian people in Hollywood films? Told by a freaking white male movie critic – as he oh-so-understandingly describes how inspiring it was for Asian people to see Bruce Lee represent strength the way he did in the U.S. Oh, and then some other white guy (a movie director, I believe) tells us how Bruce Lee’s dismissal of "the Sick Man of the East" title for Chinese was so huge . . .

That is the tribute the History Channel came up with for such a influential man!? So poorly written. So half-assedly slapped together. And so insulting to anybody with Asian blood. They might as well have filmed a bunch of Hollywood execs spitting on Bruce Lee’s grave. And then they have the gall to claim (repeatedly) that Bruce Lee "changed how Asians are portrayed in film forever." Yeah – changed it so much that these f-ers didn’t even allow actual Asian people to fill up 10% of the screen time on their ridiculous joke of a "documentary."

This is one of those times when it’s so hard for me to "practice what I preach." I can’t spin this positively. I can’t laugh it off. I can’t move beyond it. I can’t be understanding. I can’t be anything other than angry and defeated.

Because, as a Chinese boy growing up in the States, you’re damn right Bruce Lee was my hero. To see the ultimate badass on screen be a Chinese guy . . . to see people, so many famous people, non-Asian people, want to be like this Chinese guy . . . That was everything. That was inspiration. That was hope.

I practiced walking like Bruce Lee. Wanted to learn to use "nunchucks" like him. (*2) Screamed, hopped from foot to foot, and pretended to kick ass like him. More powerful than anybody – white folks most definitely included. That’s what I wanted to be. That was THE Asian male role model for me (and probably millions of other kids like me).

And these f-ing ignorant fools at the History Channel have to tear us all down by doing this. By making a show about an Asian role model in which white guys who have nothing AT ALL to do with him, who certainly never met him, dominate the discourse about how "influential" he was. In such a way as to make clear exactly how influential he WASN’T – because he – as one man, the lone "exception" – just wasn’t enough to allow Asian folks to gain enough media clout to just talk for our f-ing SELVES . . .

China is poised to dominate the world economy, and, to the U.S. media, "the World" still means white-dominated U.S. culture with a couple of bone-throws to black folks.

This is where all the anger and frustration I referred to in my "Violently Peaceful" piece comes from. This is what it means to be an "other" in the States. To have your lone representative who really "made it" commodified and co-opted by the dominant majority – so they can use her/him as just one more tool to put you in your place . . . as "less than."

Where’s that punching bag when I need it? Don’t want to punch holes in my cousin’s walls . . .

You better believe some lyrics are about to be laid down . . .

(*1) Seriously, I love the RZA . . . and he would probably even agree with me on this one.

(*2) I grew up in the States, so "nunchucks" is what I called them.

(*3) This picture is the best I could find with short notice to sum up how I feel right now . . .

This Applies to You

As I’ve recently begun to write for a larger audience (some contributions to Racialicious), I’ve run into a common problem for those going from a small community to a wider sea – not everybody knows me or has read my writings. I can no longer just assume that people know where I’m coming from, or my personal preferences, or who I’m allied with, etc. But I can’t fill all my posts with disclaimers to cover for that, either. So – I’ve got to improve my writing, of course. That said, I wanted to make one thing clear, and that lies in the message of this post. If you only read one of my posts fully, this is probably the one.

This. What I’m writing right this second. This applies to you. Whoever you are. Whatever your background. That which I’ve written before, and the messages I deliver in the future. The celebrations, the frustrations, the strategies and possible solutions – they all apply to you. And me. And everybody else.

And I mean that in the most positive, triumphant way – because we’ve all been (and still are) the subject of oppression, in its many forms. Race, religion, gender, sexuality, ability, class . . . name a way of grouping, and oppression applies. To you. So I am hearing your call, and I write this as a rallying cry for all of you/us to fight together against the B.S. you have to deal with every damn day.

This applies to you. And me. And everybody else.

And I mean that as a call-out, as well. Because we’ve all been on the flip-side, we’ve all stood on the side of the oppressor and got our digs in. We’ve all taken down another group of people (whether by intention, ignorance, or a combination of the two). We’ve all done our part to keep an unjust system running as it is. To us – this is a wake-up call, a move to examine every way in which we make things worse or back off and allow things to be as they are.

This applies to you. And me. And everybody else.

Recently, I’ve gotten my own series of wake-up calls, and I am so very appreciative of that. As I begin to branch out and write for a larger audience, I forget the way it’s been done for so long – and the repercussions.

Because most people only write as things apply to themselves, personally. We treat race, and class, and gender, and religion, and sexuality, and ability (you get the point, right?) as all these separate points of oppression – and so if we use one as an example, the understanding is that what we say only applies to that category. That means the rest are discounted, invalidated, and ignored.

That’s how it’s been. That’s how it generally is in the world.

But it’s not what I’m trying to do here. No. I am trying to push past that – bring us all onto the same "team," instead of letting us continue to be scattered, less-powerful groups and individuals. Whatever your fight, if you’re battling against oppression, then I want this to be the space for you. What I write about one oppressed group should be understood to be relevant to any other oppressed group.

Because oppression is just the same set of rules applied in different situations. It begins with fear of a different group of human beings. That turns to prejudice. And then that prejudice is applied.

And each version uses the same set of oppressive tools that people have been using for thousands of years, in all sorts of contexts, on so many different kinds of people. De-humanizing other human beings for the sake of perceived "safety" and – mostly – power.

I will take down a darker race of people by fashioning them into “less-than-human,” creating a narrative of lesser intelligence and capabilities, a tendency to be less “rational” and “scientific” than those "civilized" folks in power.

Well, hmmm . . . that worked so well that I will do the same thing to women. “Irrational.” “Emotional.” Poor at “more academic” subjects like “the sciences.”

Religion? Muslims are “irrational” and “violent” and “backwards.”

People in poverty are “loud” and “violent” and “unintelligent.”

Homosexuals are “overly sexual,” “unnatural” and only good at artsy, “non-rational” lines of work. Gay men are “too feminine” (so see above) while gay women are “butch” (and then we can apply the PoC “savage” arguments).

People with disabilities are – well – “disabled” and unable to do “normal” things. They are “deformed” or “mentally inferior.”

Kids “should be seen but not heard;” the elderly are equated with “disabled” and a “burden;” hip-hoppers are “unrefined” (hence, “savage”); and anybody that doesn’t speak my native language is “incapable” and “backwards.”

You get where I’m going with this? And this is only taking up one simple oppressive tool – there are so many more creatively-applied, subtle ones. Every instance of oppression, every tool used, is brought forth to bear on so many different groups. Because they just work so well.

Now, does that mean that every instance of oppression is the same? Hell no. Not even close. They just use the same basic tools, modified to fit the differing circumstances.

But I’m saying what we should all know, on a gut-level analysis: none of us is unique. This is good when it means that you are not alone – so many other people stand beside you in the experience of oppression. It’s bad when it means that you aren’t immune to the inherently human aspects of your mind that cause you to take things out on others.

And so, when I write these days, I tend to write in generalities. Less often will you see me refer to just one category of oppression. Now I’m a lot more likely to refer to “oppressed peoples.” And I do that very intentionally – because I intend for these messages to be applied to as many oppressed groups as possible – every time. If I write about just one group, it’s too easy for the rest to discount it and tune it out- the fall-out from the "Oppression Olympics." I’m trying to write to everyone.

Of course, there are times when I will get more specific. Recently, I have done that without thinking it through, and a lot of mis-messaging has occurred. From here on, I will do my best to put full intention into any references to a specific oppressed group.

So – if I get specific, I will do that because each group needs to be validated in this world. Again, we’re all so used to being discounted that – if I only stick to generalities – it’s too easy to feel like I’m simply ignoring your personal group. It also may be that a specific form of oppression applies more directly to specific groups. I will be intentional about making sure that a change from generalities to specifics doesn’t come off as “singling-out” in a negative way – which it has, recently.

However, please note that if I do not mention your group, specifically, I am not leaving you out, nor do I want you to be discounted. No individuals can totally avoid the grasp of systemic oppression. It affects you all. The connections are there to be made, and I am fully aware of that fact. However, if you would like them to be made more clearly and directly – then please drop a comment.

Finally – I am not writing in order to speak for any of you. I am only speaking to you. So when I mis-speak, or over-generalize, or say something that doesn’t sit right with you, please keep in mind my positive intentions . . . and then let me have it. Hard, if need be. Because intentions are no excuse against the continuation of oppression, and I’d rather you tear me a new one than let me assist the system through ignorance. Just please be willing to dialogue with me about it afterwards – because I’m trying to learn here, too.

As we all should be doing. Because none of us are experts on all oppressive systems. We all wear the (generally unintentional) mantle of “oppressor” at times, and until we get that and learn to stop doing so, our own goals of equality will never be achieved.

So.

Please keep in mind that this applies to you. All of you. And me. Everybody. Together.

And thanks for stopping by.

* Speaking of "letting me have it," you can now reach me – directly – by e-mail at "choptensils AT gmail DOT com." I don’t check that account daily, so comments on this site are the quickest method, but if you feel the need for a real dialogue, or have some suggestions, etc. feel free. And if you’re the current owner of "theCVT AT gmail DOT com," please hit me up, because I would love to convince you to kill that account. So I can have it.*

Chinese “Relaxed Face”

I feel like I should write something, but I just had myself an unbelievable New Year break, and I don’t feel like ruining the feeling with any sort of hardcore analysis, so we’re going to go easy today. (*1) Okay? Well, actually – I don’t really care if you’re okay with that, because I am.

It goes like this:

Back in the States, I very often had people ask me if I was angry. Now, some of the times I was, but the vast majority of the time I was asked this, it was when I was just bored or sort of spaced-out, mentally. Staff meetings. Workshops I attended. Public transportation. That kind of thing.

So I looked into this little phenomenon, and it turned out that – when my face is totally relaxed, and my mind is wandering – I look kind of mean or angry. I just do. I can be thinking about the most lovely things in the world, but if I really just let my face "go," I look contemptuous, at best.

And once I realized that, it explained so much. That was the reason that nobody ever seemed to want to sit next to me on public transportation – because who wants to sit next to the scary mean guy, right? (*2) It was the reason people often told me that they were scared of me upon first meeting me, or that I seemed "intimidating." In new social situations, people seldom sought me out first. Because I space out a lot, and thus – I look mean a lot. And we’ll just let the mean guy meet us at his own pace . . . (*3)

It was a revelation. I found myself experimenting a little bit by consciously changing my facial expressions when I was bored on the bus, or wherever, to see how people reacted. And most of the time – my little theory seemed to be proven correct. More people seemed to sit next to me, and people just responded differently to me, in general.

And then I moved to China. And as time went on, I noticed something – Chinese folks often look angry or "mean," too. (*4)

I’ve watched endless crowds of bored Chinese folks on the subway, and the majority look kind of mad. Irritated. Perhaps, they really are all mad and irritated (Chinese subways at rush-hour will do that to you). But it’s the store clerks, as well. And passersby on the street. And older folks just sitting on benches soaking up sun in the park. So it’s got to be more than just irritation. Maybe they all have the same "relaxed face" situation that I do. Maybe a semi-mean "relaxed face" is a Chinese thing. Maybe, in this particular little way, I actually look more Chinese than I first thought.

Wouldn’t that be a strange form of "self-discovery" living out here?

Of course – I’m not around any non-Chinese folks enough to really test this theory fully, so I present a homework assignment to my readers (*5):

Next time you’re on a bus, or the subway, or in traffic and can get a good look at the faces around you, note the expressions. Which folks look mean? Which ones just look "bored"? Do Chinese (or other Asian, perhaps) folks look meaner? Or does everybody just look pissed off when their faces are relaxed? (*6)

These are important questions – and I know you all are just the ones for the job.

The fate of the world is in your hands – and if you fail . . . well, I would bet I’ll look disappointed, at the very least.

(*1) My posts last week were all written in advance . . . took me some time to just enjoy the holiday.

(*2) Seriously – some people would elect to stand in the aisle even though the last, perfectly-free seat was open next to me. I often felt like race played into that, as well, and it probably did, to a certain degree.

(*3) And this past summer I added facial scarring – above my right eye – to the mix, which probably makes me look even meaner.

(*4) I’ve got this one favorite lady who sells zhīma qiú (these f-ing brilliant sesame-ball treats) who just looks so disdainful and hateful every time she serves me. I thought she just hates stupid foreigners, but then I realized she always looks like that. But maybe she’s just bored.

(*5) Who have been quiet as Hell, lately, by the way . . .

(*6) This reminds me of a great bit of research Glotto did that exposed the fact that people tend to "remember" black folks in a crowd as being "angry" if anybody else in that crowd was angry, while "remembering" that the original "angry" person was calm. I.e. if a white man in a crowd had an angry face, but there was a black man in that same crowd, participants would "remember" the black man as looking angry and the white man as looking neutral. Glotto – you have a link to better explain that one for me?

Violently Peaceful: Oppression through “Staying Calm”

When I moved out of my first place in Portland, I had to head down to the local hardware store, buy some drywall patches and stucco, and fix some holes in the walls of my bedroom. They were relatively large holes – certainly not normal "wear-and-tear" – and if you looked at them closely (or from a distance, actually) you could swear they were in the exact shape of a right fist . . .

Well – because they were. In a couple different fits of frustrated anger, I had punched some holes in my walls. After the second (or third) one, I started thinking about the cost of fixing the holes, so I moved on to hitting a punching bag when I flipped my sh–.

And flip my sh–, I did. Not too regularly, but every once-in-awhile, the overwhelming frustrations of circumstances and the world got to me, and I just had to hit something. (*1) There was no other way for me to let it out. Or so I thought.

And I remember being really embarrassed by it. I covered up the holes with art. I never mentioned it to friends. In most of my public life, I held myself "calm" and "under control" all the time. Nobody would have guessed that I would do that kind of thing – that I had any vaguely violent tendencies – because I hid it so well.

And I hid it because I didn’t want anybody to know there was something wrong with me. I didn’t want people to know that I was a "violent person." I didn’t want people to feel unsafe around me. Because the majority culture told me that those tendencies weren’t "normal." In fact, "society" seemed to deem those behaviors on the verge of "pathological." Maybe I needed to be medicated or something, because I certainly couldn’t "control" my anger and emotions like I was supposed to be able to do . . .

But the funny thing is, as the years passed, that uncontrollable urge to physically hit something started to go away. That extreme frustration filled me less and less often – and after I moved into my new place, I never touched that punching bag again.

So what happened? Did I learn to "control" my emotions? Was I just more "calm" in my oh-so-wise late-twenties? What was the big change?

Well, it’s hard to be sure, of course, but – during that time, I just started punching things with my mind, instead. I began to focus on writing and composing hip-hop and performing spoken word poetry around town. (*2) And I did it violently.

I didn’t stop being frustrated. I didn’t stop being angry. I didn’t even stop being aggressive – no, this wasn’t sublimation as it is thought of psychologically – I wasn’t changing my rage into something else; it was actually more like the chemistry "sublimation" – where I was distilling and concentrating my frustration into a more pure form – an artistic, peaceful violence.

Because, as I said – although it’s a bit less physical, and certainly less destructive – violent it remains. Some call it "passion," but let’s just call it what it is and avoid the euphemisms. The overwhelming frustration? Reduced, in some ways; more concentrated, in others – that’s what feeds me and inspires me to do what I do. And I’m cool with that.

But this is a very different way of looking at anger than most adults tend to treat the topic – especially when working with kids. I work at an arts camp where I would imagine most of the artists proscribe their chosen arts as "non-violent" forms of self-expression. But I would argue that – although not everybody needs to throw frustration into their artwork – this view disproportionately cuts oppressed people off from art, or worse.

Through the media and school systems in the U.S., the dominant culture teaches us that violence is wrong. Definitely. I agree. But then we’re taught that having violent urges are wrong. That is then changed to displaying anger is wrong. Next thing you know, we’re inundated with this belief that displaying any raw emotions at all is somehow "abnormal" or something to be "fixed." (*3) The only "acceptable" way of having real emotion (especially anger) is to find ways to more or less "hide" it in art.

But how can that be? This is a very frustrating world to live in, especially if you’re a representative of any of the large numbers of "others" out there. When your hopes and goals and wishes for an equal and just world are blocked at every turn – how can you avoid feeling ridiculously frustrated? And then, how can you not be a little angry about it? And when you can’t seem to shake that anger – well, you’re going to feel this urge to do something about it . . .

So why does this dominant culture instill in us a belief that anger and high emotion are "wrong" and "abnormal" when only crazy people wouldn’t be angry at this world? Why is there this middle-to-upper class emphasis on being "calm" and being "in control of your emotions" as the only way to be "normal?"

Well – because you need cattle to be calm if you’re going to avoid getting stampeded by them on the way to the slaughterhouse.

Back in the day, I worked in a Psych lab at the Portland VA hospital. There, I learned, on a rational, "calm" scientific level, that emotions cannot actually be controlled. There are things you can do to level off the peaks and troughs on a general level, but once high emotions get triggered in the system, there’s no stopping it mid-trip. (*4) Once they get going, those emotions are going to have a say, whether you like it or not. At this point, that’s commonly known within the Psych community.

Yet the most commonly-suggested solution remains medication. "Controlling" emotions by shutting down neural systems and chemically-altering a person’s mind. We’re still in a "One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest" mind-set. "Calmness" and "rational" thought are esteemed at the expense of true passion and inspiration. Because passion and inspiration are inherently violent in nature.

And those at the top – who have been controlling this culture and how it is portrayed for centuries – certainly don’t want those they are oppressing to get all "passionate and inspired." Because that makes things uncomfortable.

For example, it’s a lot more comfortable to dismiss the "angry PoC" as "violent," as opposed to "passionate and inspiring" (and/or rightfully angry). Because we wouldn’t want to "encourage that kind of behavior." Instead, the "passionate" and "inspired" labels will be saved for those who play the game by the majority rules. And guess what their background usually looks like?

Whoo! Status quo maintained.

So, as the decades rolled by, the dichotomy of "civilized, rational, and calm" vs. "primitive, emotional, and violent" became more pronounced in "Western" culture. (*5) For an oppressed people, expressing any sane reaction to the way of the world is held against them, more evidence of their standing in the latter category. (*6)

And what does this messaging and attempted suppression do to frustrated peoples? What about making them feel like there’s something terribly wrong with them for having these strong feelings and needing to let it out? Or worse, "diagnosing" it as a "disorder" and medicating them before real help is offered?

It robs these human beings of the right to their own safety, mental health, and self-security. And, in most cases, increases their frustration and inner violence. They are then deemed "dangerous, savage, emotional, etc." and the cycle continues.

Me? I was lucky. I’m a performer. I acted "in control" long enough to avoid getting labeled and medicated. I was able to fake "calmness" well enough so that "they" didn’t deem me a threat. And then I found pursuits that allowed me to engage my frustration and violence and bring it out into the world without robbing others of their rights as human beings.

Because – as I said – I most definitely pursue my lyrics with a bit of violence. When I write about what I see in the world around me, I think of my words as weapons with which to punch injustice in the f-ing gut. And I enjoy thinking of it that way. It drives me.

As my inner rage drives me to do the work I do – teaching kids in a different way, facilitating workshops that tackle oppression in all its forms. Doing all I can to understand the dynamics of this world and society, so that I can do my part to change it for the better.

And in so doing, I have re-worked this message about "violence" for the youth I work with:

Being a member of an oppressed group is to live with violence – in your environment or your mind (or both). The endless waves of oppression push us and knock us down constantly – while we’re told by those making the waves that they don’t even exist. Eventually, frustration is going to take us. Anger is going to take us.

That’s totally normal.

Because violence has already had its way with us. Fighting against it only breeds more violence and frustration. Our only hope is to use the violence of those waves to our favor – powering us like hydroelectricity.

Once we can do that, the waves become an aid; we can start focusing on more important matters and think more clearly, instead of fulfilling the wave-makers’ hopes of struggling mindlessly. And then – and only then – can we rise from the waters altogether – and start to fly.

Engaging in physical violence against other people is wrong. Flat-out. It’s unjust, robs others of their humanity, and only begets more injustice.

However, there’s nothing wrong with you if you’re angry, and frustrated, and just feel like hitting things at times. "Abnormal" is being 100% calm – like a robot – in the face of B.S. injustice and inequality. Seeing what’s wrong and being upset about it is good and normal. And there’s a lot of wrong, so you normal folks are going to get angry relatively often.

So go ahead and be normal - just figure out how you can inhale your anger – and breathe out a violently-peaceful FIRE. That’s what it means to be human. And that’s what makes us beautiful.

Alright then. Class dismissed.

Go get ‘em.

(*1) I must stress that I hit things – never people – and I do not condone, nor would I ever find physical violence against a living thing to be okay.

(*2) I tried visual arts, and – although I was fairly competent, certainly more so than I am, musically – they didn’t allow me to get all riled up and bring my fury the same way the audio arts did for me. So I pretty much stopped doing it.

(*3) How many times do middle-class teachers tell kids of color (or kids in poverty) to "lower their voice" or "stop yelling" or "calm down" when the kids are perfectly in control of themselves, just talking about something that upset them? When a white savior tells oppressed youth what to do to "save them," it’s called "passion." When the youth emotionally explain to said "savior" their disconnect, we call it "anger" or "violence."

(*4) Short of sedation, of course.

(*5) This clearly applies to race and class, but ladies – I’m sure this one isn’t new to you, either. Funny how often I hear women administer this very message to the kids I work with, however. That’s how good the system is – getting the very groups it’s putting down to own and deliver its messaging.

(*6) Working with the population I do, I see this all the time; and so often I have to convince other staff that most of our kids aren’t "dangerous" at all – just frustrated and unable to express it. These kids will scream and yell and say terrible things, maybe punching cabinets all the while – but they never, ever lay a hand on another person. There are exceptions, of course, and lines have to be drawn, but it’s sad how quickly we dismiss these kids as "troubled" and never do our job – teaching – to help them deal with the real-life frustrations of a terribly unjust world.

Choptensils Shorts: “Brown Expats” and “The New Year”

I always have ideas of topics and situations I want to write on, but I only get to them about half the time (or less); so – to get some more topics out there (hopefully for discussion), I’m going to start writing up some “Choptensils Shorts” – i.e. “Topics I want to touch on/things to consider but I’m too busy (or lazy) to cover in a full post.” Enjoy.

“Brown Expats”

So I basically do my best to avoid expats while I’m out here. When I meet them, I’m perfectly friendly, but I’m not so open to catching up later or following up, whereas I go out of my way to meet more Chinese folks and hang out with them. Cool. I didn’t come here to meet other foreigners, right?

Well, except it’s more like I have a chip on my shoulder about the white expats, specifically. Because, see – I met a Mexican expat the other day, and I was all about hanging out with him more. I was chatting with him today, and I was thinking that it would be cool to try to do hang out for real or something; think it would be cool to pick his brain a little bit about a different version of expat life out here. And – I’ll be honest – I just liked him better than most of the other expats I met.

But that’s kind of f-ed up, when you really look at it, right? I probably gave him more of a real chance to not annoy me than I would a white guy out here. He’s dating a Chinese woman, too . . . So what’s with the double-standard? Why do I think of white people as “expats” and brown folks as something different? Granted, the darker shades bring a different kind of privilege here – not so blatant and colonial in background as white folks inherently bring – but come on – privileged they are. And I am, too.

At the same time, it isn’t too different than who I find myself most comfortable with (at least upon first meeting) back in the States. And, certainly, white folks tend to hang mostly with white folks, so is it all that different? I don’t know. Something to think on, for sure, though.

“Learning About a Culture When They Aren’t Around”

I had a subway car pretty much to myself today (three other people). From my vantage point, I couldn’t see a single soul standing. To say that’s uncommon out here is to drastically downplay the phenomenon. It was downright eerie. In this country of 1.3 billion people, the concept of everybody getting a seat on public transportation is one I hadn’t considered until today.

Because everybody’s home with their families. It’s Chinese New Year’s Eve (obviously, they don’t call it “Chinese” New Year’s out here . .. in fact, most don’t call it “New Year” – it’s “Spring Festival”) and everybody is at home. And nobody was out at all today. It was really cool. People take it (and family) seriously, and it was nice to see that. Seeing everything shut down, the streets clear up . . . I’m excited for this one – a long way from last year.

That being the case, I just wanted to touch on that and move on – I’ve got better things to do this particular New Year/Spring Festival than to be blogging with the likes of you all . . .

They say how you begin the year is a sign of the rest of it, so – I wish you all a happy, safe, and healthy New Year; and I hope tomorrow starts off with understanding, patience, and inspiration. Let’s get this next year started off right and blow through ignorance and injustice like a Tiger through a chicken farm . . .

This is why kids don’t believe adults . . .

So I was doing some web-surfing, and I ended up finding about a computer game that was designed by a team of conflict resolution "experts" and interactive gaming professionals. This was funded by a federal grant, the idea being to teach children – at a young age – how to resolve conflicts peacefully, giving them the opportunity to play a game to do so.

The idea was intriguing to me – a good one, I thought. (*1) While I’ve been trying to come up with possible curriculum-adjustments to change the culture of our schools, this seemed like a great way to do it – without having to spend all the time and money to train teachers to properly carry out a curriculum. Instead, they can just put the kids on the computer and watch the learning happen.

Except . . .

Except, well – the game is a joke. (*2) An absolute joke. Poorly-executed in trying to mimic how kids actually talk to each other, which shatters a kid’s belief right at the outset. But even worse – the illustrations of "handling the conflict" and the end result are complete B.S. and simply representative of a fantasy world. (*3)

In a nutshell, the game shows a conflict. The kids can choose to resolve it "negatively" or "positively." The negative is something like just yelling at the other person or threatening them, or something like that. Then a voice says, "well, that didn’t work too well – that was wrong, how about you try another way?"

So the kid chooses "positive" and the character asks "that’s not nice, how would you feel if somebody teased you . . . etc." The "mean" character says, "yeah, you’re right – I’m sorry." And suddenly the conflict is resolved, the kid is rewarded points for choosing the "right" way.

And . . . um . . . that’s it. That’s what the freaking "experts" came up with. They got paid money for that. They continue to get grants to become even more knowledgeable about "conflict resolution.

If I need to break down why that’s so ridiculous and upsetting to me . . . well . . . I’m just not going to do it, because then you’re all beyond help.

And this is just one more shining example of how the cycle of systemic oppression works in our country. Tell me if this sounds familiar:

We’ve got a problem. A big problem. In this case, violence – specifically, youth violence. Who is most affected by this problem? Well, youth in poverty (which then further disproportionately affects youth of color). Okay. Facts established. Somebody sees this, or some version thereof, and decides to do something. Fantastic.

Whoever that person is somehow gets the government on board with a great idea – let’s try to reach kids where they’re at and design a video game that can give them positive experiences with non-violent conflict resolution. It’s a really good idea. The government puts aside some money for developing this game to get into the public schools’ curricula, and off we go.

Some panel or group of "board" or something chooses who they want to develop this game. Or maybe people bid on it. Whatever. At some point, some "leading experts" are chosen, and the game is developed.

Up to now, it all sounds fine to me. But the game is a ridiculous waste of money. So what happened? The idea was so good and we even got the leading "experts" involved . . .

Well – the "leading experts" seem to be completely cut off from today’s youth. Either it’s a generational thing, or a privilege thing, or something, but whatever it is, it is clear that these experts really don’t know what real life looks like, anymore. Instead, they stick to the dominant cultural party line: if you tell the other kid why they’re wrong and ask them "how would you feel if . . ?", then they’ll feel sorry. This, of course, is a middle-to-upper-class way of thinking. It’s generally a "white" way of thinking. It’s definitely a privileged way of thinking.

Because, of course, non-dominant cultural groups know that trying to stand up to and "talk things out" with the dominant group usually ends up in you getting dismissed, laughed at, ignored and/or crushed. For the privileged, dominant group – well, sometimes you can "talk it out" and have things work your way – because you have all the leverage. On a world-stage, you’re the bully. If you’re a rich, white, able-bodied heterosexual male, you can have all sorts of "peaceful" resolutions – because of the unspoken threat your power represents, standing right behind you.

In a kid’s setting – this sort of privileged, fantasy-world five-minute peaceful chat just doesn’t work. For any kid. The situations are so much more complicated than that – they involve insecurities, environmental stresses, home-life, cultural conditioning, identity-development – you can’t just have one, simple solution. Every single instance is a little different, and any true, non-violent solution takes time.

But you can’t program that into a game. And that doesn’t sound nice in a paper. So, somehow, these "leading experts" retain their positions and keep feeding us this same old ish – because they can, due to their influence and status as "leading experts."

In the meantime, our kids learn to ignore us when we say that violence won’t solve their problems. Because they’ve seen how we say they can solve those problems non-violently, and our solutions are such clear lies. They try out our "solutions," get crushed, and they’re scarred.

Kids continue to fight with each other, adults continue to tell them that "fighting is bad" without taking the real time to actually help a kid deal with their complex issues, and the "leading experts" earn enough money to live in a nice house.

And we wonder why so many kids learn to distrust authority at such a young age.

So – again – it comes down to representation. Until this country can learn what true diversity looks like – instead of thinking one or two "token minorities" in a sea of homogeneity covers it – this kind of thing will continue to happen. A good idea will get passed to those with no real-world understanding or experience, and another ball gets dropped.

Diversity of thought. Diversity of experience. With no outright majority. That’s the only way.

Because, honestly, Mrs. and Mr. "Leading Expert," how would you feel if somebody made all the decisions for you without ever experiencing life like you do?

Hmmm . . . somehow I don’t know if that sentence would be enough to change things . . .

(*1) Here’s the article in which it was first presented to me (makes it sound good, no?): http://www.sciencedaily.com/videos/2008/1208-cool_school__where_peace_rules.htm

(*2) Here’s a quick demo of the reality: http://www.rtassoc.com/gm_coolschool.html

(*3) The name should have tipped me off, but I was hopeful . . .

A Broken System, Part III: Fighting Words

I’ve talked about the obvious need for a big change (Part I) and given a (slightly) smaller-scale suggestion for changing the USA’s relationship to race (Part II). Now, in Part III, I’ll cover what I believe to be the education system’s single biggest contribution to the injustice of our society: the creation of a culture of combative communication (i.e. turning everything into a “fight”).

So, among my many annoying habits, I have one which a certain ex of mine absolutely hated. It goes like this: I like to talk like I know what I’m talking about.

A prime example? This blog. I write with conviction and little hesitation. I seldom use words that convey doubt in the veracity of my own experiences and opinions. I sit down at my keypad and “tell it like it is.” I state my argument, then break it all down, piece by piece, to bolster the strength of my claims and words. That’s how I do it.

And that’s how I wrote the last paragraph. That’s precisely how most politically-angled blog-posts are written. It’s how articles and essays are written. How speeches are given and delivered.

In the U.S., it’s called “good writing.”

We’re taught to do this. To be like this. The U.S. educations system takes pride in emphasizing “critical thought.” And, on the surface, that’s something that is truly laudable. (*1)

However, the problem is in the delivery – and the message that is hidden within that delivery. When we are taught to write and speak publicly, we are taught to compete. We are taught effective techniques to “win” our “argument.” We are taught that hedging and displaying doubt is not an “effective” means of convincing somebody of our right-ness. If we do acknowledge a weakness, it is only to downplay it or offer up how that can be “easily rectified.”

On the flip – when we “listen” to the other side express their own “arguments” and opinions, we are taught to look for holes. Find their weaknesses and expose them. Find their stronger arguments and figure out how to break them down and “defend” against them. All effective tools when trying to “win” an argument or get a good grade on a paper.

But – outside of the classroom – we think the same rules apply. To successfully solve a problem, we think one must “win” the “argument” to get people to go along with them. Our government is structured around constant “debates” where differing sides try to “win” people over to their side, so they can get the majority necessary to put their plans into action.

But solving problems is not a fight. When we employ competitive, fighting tactics towards “solving problems,” we end up defeating ourselves and no true solution can be reached. We just get half-assed measures that barely touch on a symptom or two, ignoring underlying causes.

“Us” vs. “Them.” The constant battle of dichotomy. Two sides in a fight, playing to win. That’s the “American way.” (*2) It’s the mentality of conflict, and the language we employ in describing it all is telling.

Our schools are cultural training grounds, where we condition our kids to speak as if they are fully right and have the most important thing to say, and that what other kids have to say is unimportant – just a list of “arguments” with holes. We specifically teach kids not to listen – hear the words and write them down in order to destroy their significance, never let them touch you. Meaning replacing understanding, as if they’re the same.

So is it surprising that adults are so bad at communicating with each other? Romantic relationships reduced to running battles of blame and “arguments.” Conversations between peers becoming two sides waiting for their chances to speak. “Listening” to a friend share their experiences, then invalidating them by telling them “I totally understand what you mean” and “proving” that by immediately talking about our own experiences. (*3)

Take that to the next level – politics – and it only gets worse. Everything is a “debate.” There are no discussions or real conversations. No listening or understanding. Simply endless loops of arguments, ending in a double-forfeit stalemate. (*4)

This is not progress.

And so I propose a change. Once again – within the school walls. “Crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.” We’ve been crazy for too long.

In the classroom, let’s teach true critical thinking – starting with the individual. Even the most perfect of souls is at least partially wrong – and understanding that is strength. Teach our kids to admit their own faulty logic – not to belittle or to defend – but to better understand the world. Critically examine our own beliefs, so that we may better empathize with those that can help us find cures.

Because the second part is teaching kids to really listen. To value other people’s opinions and to realize that even the most die-hard bigot is going to say something true and important. Listen to understand, as opposed to focusing on meanings and mistakes and arguments to be made.

And once we’ve covered those two, we reach the ultimate goal – true conversation, dialogue, and partnership. If you want to truly find an end to racism, you’re not going to do it by getting all your “liberal” friends to agree with you. You’re going to have to have some conversations of understanding with the “other” side. But you’re not going to be able to do that as long as they are just “the other side” – a group of people that need to be changed and “convinced.” So our kids must be taught to go into conversations with a willingness to be convinced. Not to “debate.” Not to “prove” or “disprove.” Just to understand.

And it can be done – if you start young enough. Kids all want to be heard – really heard – and they can tell the difference between being listened to and heard. They can also empathize. If you catch them before listening for meaning alone has been hard-wired into them, they can learn to value other people’s opportunities to speak.

And if you get to the kids, in only a few decades you will have gotten to all of the adults who make change in this world.

Again – this is not a simple solution. To do this right would be a logistical nightmare. To convince people to put this into practice, even worse. It’s a pipe-dream. But it is truly possible and could truly lead to a large-scale change in culture. And that’s the only way we can stop acting so crazy, thinking how we talk to and “communicate” with each other is ever going to bring about solutions.

It’s time for a culture-shift. A conscious, directed one. Top-down is never going to happen – especially not in a democratic government. The only real solution is bottom-up. It can and should start in our schools – but, barring that, I challenge any readers to do their part and let it start here, now.

Critically examine your own beliefs. Train yourselves to listen for understanding. Come to the table looking to be changed. Teach your own kids to do the same. Then watch the world around you take a different shape.

True revolution begins with a slow simmer at the bottom of the pot . . .

(*1) In comparison to other national systems that I happen to be knowledgeable of . . .

(*2) Can you all say "two-party system"?

(*3) Sad how even “being there” for a friend turns into a form of conflict (trying to argue how well you understand . . .).

(*4) Even on Racialicious, I read so many comments by folks who desperately want their own experiences validated; and in doing so, they break down and invalidate another human being’s experiences.

(*5) To finish it all up, and in the spirit of this topic, let me say here that I am likely wrong on some level . . . and my fear – that writing that completely negates this entire post – demonstrates the power of my own “argument-training.”

Movement

I just got back from a little "visa re-up" trip to Hong Kong, the Hawaii of China. On so many levels, my time in Hong Kong reminded me of my Stateside trips to the Islands, and I will be sure to cover that in upcoming posts (a sort of parallel to my "Hapa in Honolulu" series). However, before I get into that, I want to write on something that happened to me there (yesterday, actually) while it’s still fresh . . .

Sometimes, I like to go to art museums. And when I look at the paintings and drawings therein, I can appreciate the skill involved (I am a mildly competent sketcher and painter). I like how the visual arts can give a different kind of insight into the mind-set of a culture. I think some works of art are quite beautiful.

That said, I am seldom touched by visual art. In fact, I can pretty much say that I am never really touched by paintings, drawings, or sculptures. On a very surface-level, perhaps, as I appreciate the beauty inherent in a particular work, but visual art does not tend to move me in the same way that music or film can. I don’t come out of a gallery or exhibition carrying the paintings with me, thinking on them, feeling inspired by them . . .

Except – yesterday – I was most definitely touched by visual art. Moved by it in a way I may never have experienced before. (*1)

It goes something like this:

Before my evening flight (ended up getting delayed until the wee hours of this early morning), I had some time to blow (on a rainy afternoon) and decided to go check out the Hong Kong Museum of Art. I haven’t gone to any art museums here in China yet, so I figured that would be a good thing to do (besides, the Planetarium was closed).

I bought my ticket and checked out the exhibits. First floor – traditional calligraphy and landscape paintings. Lots of black, white, and gray, but quite beautiful and interesting. (*2) Second floor – porcelain and pottery from the various dynasties. Pretty cool, again, a lot of white, some blue, some earthy magentas. Excellent craftsmanship. Fantastic.

As I’m walking through these exhibits, my mind is rolling around a conversation I had had the night previous with a second cousin of mine over dinner: all about how scared of risk-taking and "being different" Chinese culture is, and the pluses and minuses of that way of being. At this moment in my museum visit, I can’t help but think that it shows in terms of the art – as there are so many amazing artists in China, but all I tend to see are about three very specific styles that aren’t so different from hundreds of years ago. Cool, in some ways, and frustrating, in others.

So I’m in this state of mind when I hit the third floor and its exhibit on "the New Literati." I read the placard explaining who this group of artists is, and it’s more or less as follows:

The "New Literati" are a group of Chinese (mainland) artists from the 80s and 90s. They were mostly born right around the time of my mother – as World War II came to a close and the Communists chased the Nationalists off the mainland. But this group stayed in China. And so they lived through the Cultural Revolution (which is something I won’t go into now). As artists, they grew up in an era where art was controlled by the government, and the only art for public display (pretty much) was "for the people" – namely, propaganda posters and statues in honor of various martyrs and heroes. And then things changed. Deng Xiaoping did his thing, and suddenly these artists were able to create art that actually expressed . . . The art in this exhibit was the result.

I read that, and I get intrigued. What kind of art am I about to see? I had been wondering where the "Chinese modern art" was – was this it? So I enter the first hall, and to the side is a painting, more or less "traditional landscape style," and I feel crushed. Damnit. Expression and creativity really has been done away with here . . .

And then I walk around the corner. And I seriously had to stop and catch myself – I literally lost my breath and had to take deep ones to calm my pounding heart:

I saw color. Bright, vibrant colors the likes of which I never see in this country of black, gray, dark blue, or white clothing. (*3) And I saw such different styles and levels of expression. People were the focus of many of them – "common" people, given life and beauty. Many of them popped out at me and reminded me of paintings I’ve seen from various indigenous peoples. Others made me think of revolutionary artists like Diego Rivera. Many of the people depicted were peasants, or indigenous ethnic minority peoples.

These paintings spoke to me. They lived. I went from painting to painting, trying to get photos to remember them by. Literally taking deep breaths and trying to breathe them in. To feel them. I ended up doing three laps around the exhibit, closely examining every painting each time around.

Afterwards, I desperately searched through the gift shop (I have definitely never done that before) trying to find some prints, or a book, or even postcards of these paintings to have and to hold (I failed).

So what happened? Why did these images rock my world in a way other art never has? I’ve seen stuff more skillfully-rendered. I’ve seen emotions expressed in rawer forms. Revolution declared in images.

But I realized – seldom, in this world, does somebody see art made for them. What I mean by that is that the art that gets front-billing in the world is generally from a different generation from the one in which the viewer has lived. It’s probably from a different place on top of that. And, if you’re a person of color or from another underrepresented group, the artist probably looked and lived nothing like you.

Even art made for the underrepresented world is hard to connect to, fully – because it still lives in its rawest form in a specific time and place. Diego Rivera’s images, for example (I use him because of the connections I see between what I saw yesterday and his style), can hit you. They are revolutionary and attempt to speak for brown people and their freedoms. But he still lived in a particular time. And although his themes certainly translate to current times, they just can’t speak the same way to . . . well – me, for example. Somebody out of time and space from his creations.

So to find art that hits home like this is so rare. Art that I can enter into a real dialogue with. This art was created by artists finding their identities and expression coming out of an era where that was simply not allowed – running parallel to my formative teenage years as I began to contemplate the world and my own identity in different ways. The art is so very Chinese in its genesis and roots, but with clear connections to both the paler and browner people of the world and their artistic influences. It’s about people and the simple reality of everyday life – the struggle, the joy, the beauty. And the color – the vibrance and ecstatic life of it all – coming out of dark, grey times; surrounded by a grayscale world. A celebration of life and survival.

Another individual will read it totally differently – but this is what I saw yesterday: a piece of China that was so much more than Chinese – and could speak to and for me, the foreigner with Chinese blood and a brown-hued mentality, without condescending, slowing down, or deferring.

I still have trouble breathing when I think about it. The excitement is still running rampant in my soul. I never believed that visual art could do this . . . but I have this sense of hope now that wasn’t quite there before. And I can’t explain why – or how long it will last. But it’s there. A celebration within, and the knowledge that even the most brutal oppression cannot break the beauty and fighting spirit of life.

This is what happens and how it feels when you walk through life never being spoken for or even directly to; and then having the most unexpected stranger suddenly acknowledge you and express your feelings and experiences better than you ever could. (*4) These artists, who I probably couldn’t even have a decent conversation with on a literal level (due to my limited language competency), just nailed my soul with paint, ink and pastels.

And it’s not something I’m likely to let go of anytime soon.

So this is my attempt to share it with you all. A positive, colorful image in a collection of bleaker posts. It certainly can’t move you to the degree in which these paintings moved me, but I hope it gives you something, a little glimmer in your chest, to help bring a smile on the uglier days.

(*1) Interestingly enough, the only other time I can remember feeling emotional about a visual art exhibition is when I was in Honolulu and saw an exhibit at the Bishop Museum focusing on the PIKO gathering; in brief, PIKO was a gathering of over 100 worldwide indigenous artists, spending five days together creating art, comparing their histories and styles, and doing collaborative pieces. I almost started bawling as I walked through that exhibit . . .

(*2) I couldn’t help but notice how many of these famous Chinese artists/monks had been warriors back in the day . . . fodder for another post I’m working on.

(*3) Everybody seems to own exactly one red piece of clothing (for good luck), but the rest is drab and lifeless. Ironic, since the gaudy, bright colors of temples and historic sites is enough to make a person giddy.

(*4) Check out my post on Kumu Kahua theatre for a similar experience.

(*5) These photos were taken with an outdated camera behind glass – they can never do the real art justice; they also won’t likely speak to my readers, but I have to share some of it, right?

hu yongkai1

indigenous detail1

watertown2