American Hapa
By Misa Smith
I must begin this by saying I am supposed to be in Hawai’i studying abroad, a place I picked on purpose for its strong mix of cultures and people. Not going to Hawai’i was and still is a constant variable in my life, it is something I struggle with everyday not going, because in Hawai’i, I found my happy place. I miss Hawai’i to my core, every day.
It is not something I can express or rationalize because this is the first place out of my PNW bubble I had really experienced as an adult. But what I can say is Hawai’i is home. It is my home. It is where I felt 100% comfortable in my skin, where the color of my skin was lost in a sea of others who looked like me. Who had experiences like me. Who understood what it was like to be second or third generation immigrants. Who understood that being a collective isn’t necessarily one blood line — but a mix of many, where community was a purpose and where Ohana is everywhere with those who want to be there with you.
Being mixed Japanese on the mainland is basically like being a fish out of water. Few understand you and many question you.
”You’re not Japanese, you’re white.” ”You can’t say you’re asian because you’re mixed.” ”You’re not asian, you don’t look like it.” ”I guess I can see it, are you sure?” ”You don’t even speak Japanese.”
Yes I am Japanese-American. Yes I am Asian-American. This is how I see myself.
I am mixed, I am a pool of ancestors from various parts of the world, and this creates a unique culture within itself. Being mixed is important to me, it is important that I come from histories of many people, but I specifically identity as Japanese-American. Why? I get asked this a lot, even by my family. And on a basic level I understand the confusion. I grew up in Oregon, a mostly white state, in a poor-to-middle-to-upper class family and I grew up with a single parent for most of it. My mom is not ethnic, she is mostly a mixture of European descent with a splash of Cherokee, but her experiences and culture are relatively Euro-American with a Christian foundation. All of this is a basic description of my life on paper, so then why do I consider myself Japanese American? This is why: I grew up in a community on my paternal side.
My aunts were my moms. My grandmother was our matriarch. My best friends were my cousins and my parents were all the adults in my family. As I write this, I cry because I can’t encompass the beauty that was and still is my family.
The experiences I grew up with are what defines me.
My family was outside the idea of a nucleus — I lived communally. During the summers we would wait to eat sticky rice and teriyaki chicken, we would beg to be taken to sushi and play dress up with kimonos and yukatas. Our second eating utensil was chopsticks and sitting on our bottoms at a restaurant wasn’t strange. Watching anime and reading manga was part of our literature and television. Complaining about which rice cooker was the worst was an essential conversation at times. Hearing conversations in Japanese was the norm and I yearned to be able to understand. My grandmother and aunts always supported my identity in being Japanese and always questioned my understanding of it. New Years for us was not a party to watch the ball drop, but a huge Japanese dinner to ring in the New Year and mostly bring us together as a family to kick another year together. My family get togethers were not my parents and me, they were consistent of my four aunts, my grandmother, my two uncles, my eight cousins and two family dogs. Sudoko was the chosen paper game and origami was our chosen art form.
With all of this, we had many American traditions that thrived with our Japanese ones. As I write this, I wonder if my family even knew they were supporting our heritage or if they were just doing what was normal to them. Being mixed is something so deep and strong, I do not have to identify as one or the other, because I am who I am and I am proud of my background.
I was not always proud.
I was ashamed to like anime and ashamed to read manga. I was made fun of in middle school for my name, which is unique in the US but not in Japan, and I constantly heard chatter from other kids making fun of “chink eyes” and all my peers that were asian. In middle school I was harassed for being asian, bullied is a better word, and when I went to do something about it I was told that “kids are just being kids and that I truly didn’t want to get them in trouble” and I firmly believe that was a cause and effect of white privilege in a small town. I was shamed for my background and as I’ve grown the shame has not lessened, but changed forms. It now resides in me being told what I am and what I am not. It is being told, “I’m not attracted to asians but you don’t look asian” and being told, “I have yellow fever.” It is being shamed by being told that minorities don’t have problems by my white friends and constantly hearing them reject ideas relating toward oppression.
All the questions I am asked, all the comments I am told — is oppression. I am one of the lucky ones because I am not afraid to stand up and fight for myself because I am proud to be Japanese-American and I am proud to be hapa.