Why Women Aren’t CEOs… and Women of Color Though?

From NYT:

The Lean In survey shows a pervasive sense among women that they face structural disadvantages: They are less likely than men to believe they will be able to participate in meetings, receive challenging assignments or find their contributions valued. The bleakest perceptions are from minority women; only 29 percent of black women think the best opportunities at their companies go to the most deserving employees, compared with 47 percent of white women.

There’s also an interesting intersectionality bit here that’s been better explored in not brief NYT Sunday edition article. I would say a lot Women of Color in general have had to learn to fight and advocate for themselves, suffer no fools, because we always existed in innately hostile environments, even in our own communities. We’ve always known life is not fair.

It also highlights a point here about bleak assessments of meritocracy compared to White women, whose assessments are already pretty bleak, because your assertiveness and success combined with another layer of identity becomes a liability and a threat.

Let’s be real, people are not okay being lead by a White Woman (53% of White Women voted for Trump), let alone by an Asian Woman, a Latina Woman, or Black Woman. Work twice as hard for half as much. And it’s worse outside of US borders in many places. It also begs the question, when to bother with spaces that aren’t made for us for success? I’m asking a different question than quitting for less ambition, when does it become about building own capital and markets – and how?

Side note: It’s interesting on the East Coast because I love hanging out the follow transplanted West Coast tribe of Asian women out here we’re a bunch of aggressive non-assimilationists, and people have no idea what to do with us or what we are here (I’d say in business, life, and love). We do it for the culture.

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A Dust of Life with a Crazy Rich Asians Budget?

Thinking on that Hundreds post, it would be great if after Crazy Rich Asians wraps, Jon M Chu or someone out there could shoot a high production value LA (or SJ or OC) film about 90s Asian American life in those places, because it was this different seminal time, especially given in many ways a lot of those stories would really relate and say a lot about 2017, particularly policing, refugees, immigration, and alienated youth.
 
A lot of this is just personal baggage, but sometimes now back in SGV, I like how it’s super nice now, but all these bobalife kids also don’t know nothing about when it was barred windows, pool halls, linoleum floor restaurants only, and how hated we were and how much we hated each other and others. It’s better now and for the best, but a lot of stories
deserve to be told.
 
I’d love to see a high budget Dust of Life, Bang Bang, or some of the other arthouse indies that have been made, but with a Crazy Rich Asians production scale with a female lead, but that’s quite possibly the most un-makable movie pitch ever.
 
But I hate how so much of the representation is the story about the banana Asian dudes with the same overplayed identity struggle that isn’t even that representative in my opinion (I feel a little this way about Hasan Minhaj or Aziz Ansari even though I love what they do, but they’re definitely being true to their stories) or run-of-the-mill immigration fitting in story or the throw in an already famous Chinese star to sell movies to China. Other stories out there that are just worthy, but I don’t think audiences are really ready for that level of play and acceptance yet. 

Resistance Art: Immigrants Getting the Job Done

 

*The mixtape video we all needed. It’s a hard time right now, can’t understate that. Philando Castile, the healthcare bill, the deportations, targeting of Muslims during Ramadan, the environment destruction, the list is so long it’s almost paralyzing. It seems like the politics posts on Facebook at least in my filter bubble have waned a bit, bc it’s like, we know it’s not gonna get better anytime soon, but I know that there are so many broken hearts with a dose of toxic anger all the same from all the offline conversations.

But one thing I’ve noticed though in NYC, since the election, it seems like immigrants have been kinder to each other. Going to stores, Lyft/Uber drivers, walking in these streets, going to work, there is a strange gentleness to each other that I don’t think was quite there before. We don’t speak the same languages, we don’t share the same skin colors or cultures, we don’t really even have the same struggles (I’m totally cognizant of the fact I’m a light-skinned Asian whose is a natural born American citizen with a White collar job and what that gets me – I walked through customs in under 3 minutes with Global Entry yesterday – which gives me a responsibility to do a damn thing), but it seems we’re in this reality where we need each other’s kindness because of Trumplandia and a lot of the White Liberals who quite frankly seem to be want to be there for their racist cousins than for us, I get that tribalism, but we’re responding in kind with our kindness to each other in response to what is effectively state-sanctioned violence.

For some of you out there, I know you don’t feel this, but feel me for a minute when I say this cruelty out here is undeserved, and it’s real, and if you’re not fighting it, you’re complicit. Let’s get on with it. Save your kindness for those who deserve it and need it. We’re America’s ghostriders, and the former colonized in Europe built those empires. The credit is only borrowed. We’re going to cash those checks, sooner or later, one way or another.

*One thing I do want to call out some friends pointed out on FB – the misogyny in the lyrics and in hip hop in general, :(. Also, let’s not forget in the American context, most Black Americans weren’t immigrants and were forced to build the country for free and Native Americans driven off on the land that was theirs.

Back in Taiwan

TBH part of me lowkey wants to stay in Taiwan and not go home to NYC, back to America, and back to the West. Over the last few days, it sank in how truly nightmarish it has been to live with so much hatred in the relative absence of it.

Taiwan is far from perfect and not free of divisions, but right now, like Gil Scott-Heron sang, home is where the hatred is. It hurts to live with so much constant unease and anger. We’re in for a long fight. Recoiling in horror has always been a constant for People of Color, but the collective fear level is amped even more now.

In a weird way, I can kind of see the false seductiveness of maybe what a lot of conservatives feel. It’s incredible to not feel your race, to walk amongst your own kind. There is something to be said about feeling your blood and history being connected to everyone and everything around you in a way that makes sense. To be connected to the land and see yourself in generations forwards and backwards. It’s beautiful. I can see the desire to not want to deal with anything more complicated than that. There are plenty of other folks like me here “back from” the US, Canada, Australia, and other such places here working, running bar & burger shops, living corporate, etc speaking funny versions of Chinese and Taiwanese, a simultaneously revered, reviled, and recognizable social category. It still feels like home though, especially in these sour times. The thing that’s mutually missed is Mexican food. I feel that draw and temptation as deeply as anyone else – that China problem is worth the risk. Maybe someday I’ll give into it.

In a way, Taiwan is a nation of leavers like Ireland. People coming and going. I couldn’t help but see a lot of what I already knew when I was there a few weeks ago, both in the sense that being American is to immediately recognize so much of what we know as American culture actually comes from Ireland, but also in the sense of being part of a people from a much hotter but also emerald-colored island with a history of similar struggles and with an equally if not more fanatically devoted diaspora.

Unlike in the West, your bloodline in this part of the world is inescapable. The Irish and other Europeans don’t seem to consider people who share their blood and distant heritage as brethren, but it doesn’t function that way in a lot of Asia, for better or worse. I get undeserved brownie points for being a natural born American that can read and speak the language and know how to code switch into the culture, which I really only know because really I am a fat woman who likes being able to eat everything. Other Asian Americans get seen with scorn for “forgetting who they really are.” Both of these are simplistic narratives that don’t fit the world we live in.

I’m an unabashed globalist. Maybe I’m a condescending liberal elitist. A loudmouth hip hop head in New York who holds it down for the California Republic but a polite and loyal Taiwanese-American when I’m back on the island. Theresa May would probably call me a Citizen of Nowhere and I’m truly part of what the Make America Great Again crowd hates. And I hate them too, no doubt. At a most basic, it’s just self-defense against people who condone multiple levers of violence.

But what’s obvious to me as a perpetual outsider, code switcher, and lucky (privileged) enough to move through borders and cultures is that problems we might think are singular are global and interconnected better or worse that can’t be solved alone. Climate change, racism, ethnic strife, gender inequality, the failure of global markets to provide prosperity and their ability to accelerate inequality, the darksides of technological transformation – can’t be solved only locally though that has to be where it starts.

As John Donne once said, No man is an island, entire of itself. Any man’s death diminishes me. Because I am involved in mankind. Therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee.

I believe in liberalism: I believe in liberty, equality, social justice, free press, free markets (the Adam Smith definition), freedom of religion, minority rights, feminism, etc. Facts are real. There’s an America and a rest of the world worth fighting for, and I’ll be ready to re-join The Resistance when I’m back.

100 Days of Resistance Art Day Four: Autopsy

Poetry for reflecting today. I’m traveling to Taiwan tonight, my motherland, to see family and friends. I am fortunate for now for relatively unencumbered freedom of movement, something my Brown friends don’t have the privilege of doing. Something to ponder on and think of how you can weaponize your privilege in the struggle.

Autopsy

Last night, I dreamed that my passport bled.
I dreamed that my passport was a tombstone
For our United States, recently dead.
I dreamed that my passport was made of bone—

That it was a canoe carved out of stone.
“But I can’t swim,” I said. “I will drown
If I can’t make the shore. I’ll die alone
In the salt. No, my body will be found

With millions of bodies, all of them brown.”
I dreamed that my passport was a book of prayers,
Unanswered by the gods, but written down
By fact checkers in suits. “There are some errors

In your papers,” they said. Then took me downstairs
To a room with fingernails on the floor.
I dreamed that my passport was my keyware,
But soldiers had set fire to the doors,

To all doors—a conflagration of doors.
I dreamed that my passport was my priest:
“Sherman, will you battle the carnivores
Or will you turn and abandon the weak?

Will you be shelter? Or will you concede?”
Last night, I dreamed that my passport was alive
When it entered the ICU. It breathed, it breathed,
Then it sighed and closed its eyes. It did not survive.

©2017, Sherman Alexie

Dear America, Asian Immigrants Did Not Sign Up for This Shit

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Image from AngryAsianMan

Ending the day on a negative ranty note inspired by Uber’s CTO Thuan Pham, a refugee.

Dear America,

Among the most bleak conversations I’ve had are with Asian Americans, because FUN FACT: a huge portion if not the outright majority of Asians in America of my generation are here because people directly or indirectly were fleeing authoritarian consequences, not because of some “hoo rah we’re gonna have freedom! MURICA” but no like literally not sure if they could feed their families, could get killed, or if there was a future at the end of the road in varying degrees of hopelessness and horror.

This is a story we know: Mao Zedong and his revolutions, Pol Pot the Khmer Rouge, Ferdinand Marcos and his kleptocracy, Chiang Kai-Shek and his thugs (of which I’m descended from and take open ownership of that), Le Duan after the Fall of South Vietnam, Kaysone Phomvihane and the Pathet Lao, Suharto’s Corrupt Fist in Indonesia, Park Chung-hee’s dictatorship, and I’m probably missing a whole lot more.

America had immigration policies that favored our labor. So people came as the dishwasher, the laundryman, the bodega owner, the seamstress, the cooks, the scientists, the doctors, and generally the hustlers who ventured into the great unknown with promises of security and prosperity. And some came unwilling as refugees because of the American wars in Southeast Asia.

I know we might be all seem to same to you, but someone in my age bracket who was born here or came here as a young child came from a very different Asias than the current denizens of the Asia Modern – one whose fever dreams now elude us.

We continue to inhabit very different Asian Americas in terms of ethnicities, stories, and socio-economic conditions.

Before the Syrian refugee crisis, Asians were the people on the boats people were pushing away, and a generation before, fleeing Jews were rejected from safe harbor, lest we forget.

The joke is now “whoops buyers remorse, we came here precisely not for this shit. And these spoiled ‘Americans’ (we’re spoiled Americans now too, but we remember a time we weren’t) have no idea what they’re facing. Now might we might have to try to horde gold and live like peasants, again, hahaha so funny joke’s on us!” Dude, literally here not to be about that life, but you know what, we have learned how to survive and thrive and make very little into something.

There’s a lot of talk in leftist circles in America about “the revolution,” and there’s always been this uncomfortable moment because a lot of Asians tend to be like “Nah tho, I don’t know about that tho because we almost all died before. I’ll take those sensible trade policies, thanks.”

It’s a primal thing, our collective past saw what real revolutions were like and it didn’t end up well for most regular people. Now all over the West, we’re the living undead, reanimated bits of imagined communities combined with the aspirational hopes of Barack Obama’s America, doomed to wander in distant lands we now call home speaking in strange tongues devoted to making a buck.

This is a cynicism that will probably be imprinted on us for generations to come, though I hope our grandchildren will never know our strife. This is why I think I grew up around a community focused so long on just making money, freeing our minds with education, and basking in the comforts of family, food, tradition, and safety.

People didn’t have much else till recently, which is why you see all these mass movements places like Taiwan, Hong Kong, and South Korea now, because this new world of justice, rule of law, and universal rights, is well, is still new, still precious, and still not taken for granted with not one generation removed from darkness of poverty and autocracy. And aren’t we always only one generation from that?

It’s unpleasant for us to watch this begin to repeat itself in our new home and also know we’re probably easy scapegoats for something or another, the uncomfortable wedge group, the “model minority” despised both by Whites and other minorities. This shit could blow up in our face because it has before. Refuge fail. (I’m bullish on California tho.)

Tho gotta say for the record, we tried to warn you with the wisdom and paranoia bequeathed to us from our collective history and outsider status. And most People of Color tried to save yo trifling asses in the election. With depleted voting rights coming our way, I wouldn’t put all my hopes on another election by the way.

I don’t have an original line to close, so may the odds be ever in your favor.

Bessie

*If any references may have confused you- please see NPR CodeSwitch’s episode on the Explanatory Comma.

Looking back at Shawn Sung and the dark side of 90s LA and aZn culture

Internet rabbit-holing and can’t believe this recently made doc exists. A snapshot in time of a subculture within a subculture – that singular moment of Taiwanese-Americans in 90s and early 00s LA where the children of an aspiring class in a then still third world country coming up basically ended up as a bunch of wannabe hoodlums or actual hoodlums, the people who didn’t roll with the model minority whiz kids and threw punches instead, influenced by the worries and insecurities of Taiwan’s political transformations, Black and Chicano hip hop culture, struggles with racism, and absent or disconnected families.

The short film, Parachute Kids captured this feeling well:

Another, Byron Q’s Bang Bang, captured the complexities of class within that experience:

Shawn Sung was way before his time – way ahead of what Jin was doing on 106 & Park and MC Hotdog rapping about how hot Taiwanese girls are (no hate to Jin or MC Hotdog with this) – this culture existed with much smoother flows and meaning, he’s still being venerated in 2016. Shawn Sung (and also have to name check Drunken Tiger who was doing something similar in Korean across town in the West Side of Los Angeles) were doing their thing under any mass cultural radar.

He unabashedly criticized a lot of the hypocrisy of Taiwan’s music industry and culture but also declared early into the sentiment of what has involved into the current polyglot Californian identity – one of the lyrics in one of his mixtapes that survived after his death was “Hey 大家(everybody),I put it down for the la raza.”

I’ve become a lot more sensitive to the way people speak in the last year, and I love the jumble of languages and accents in this doc that sound like many homes. The farther I go from where I came from, the more clarity I have to how important the source is.

I wish he had lived to see and continued to influence what we have transformed into as a people here and across the Pacific.