WE ARE HERE: ASIAN AMERICAN LEADERS

Asian Americans are widely viewed as “model minorities” on the basis of education, income and competence. But they are perceived as less ideal than Caucasian Americans when it comes to attaining leadership roles in U.S. businesses and board rooms, according to researchers at the University of California, Riverside.

This study is so obvious fascinating for so many reasons.

I go to meeting after meeting, professional conference after professional conference, panel discussion after panel discussion, and I am usually the only Asian American in the room. Sometimes, no lie, the only Asian American in the building. Okay, I’m lying. I’m probably not the only Asian American in the building; but, I’m sure as heck one of the few who I see out in the public light speaking my mind, facilitating workshops, stirring up controversy, and doing what I do best: BEING A LEADER. What do we need? We need more Asian Americans in leadership.

 

That’s why I love ASPIRE. ASPIRE is an organization of amazing Asian American women who are committed to learning about, sharing, and passing on leadership that empowers others. ASPIRE rooms are filled with dedicated, motivated, passionate, and socially just women who strongly believe – and practice – thoughtful mentoring. And, through these interactions, meetings and shared spaces, we encourage leadership.


At a fairly early age, and I mean in my 20s, I was taught I could be a leader. I was taught that I had the confidence, the intelligence, and the maturity to actually influence minds, hearts, and pocketbooks of people. I was encouraged to study Public Speaking, was mentored through effective lesson planning, lead professional workshops, and facilitated difficult and meaningful dialogue. I took charge over groups, programs and projects. Outside of my family, (my parents still believe in a “low profile” kind of existence) I was taught to tell my story, to serve as a spokesperson, and to be the public face of a number of causes and organizations. And, I was speaking out about things that my family – my culture – told me I shouldn’t be talking about: race, power, racism, privilege, personal issues, strength, and leadership.

 

In short, I was groomed for Leadership.

 

But, don’t get me wrong. I fought for every single step I’ve taken. I’ve had to battle stereotypes, bust through some glass ceilings, and work 200x harder just to get a seat at the table. And, despite my ability to work across the aisle, to approach situations with confident assertiveness, and possessing the qualities of  an outstanding leader, I walk every day in a body that is still poked with the glass shards from above me. I feel the sting of the bamboo ceiling, the cuts of the glass ceiling, and the every day assumption that I am not a leader. And, if I don’t walk carefully or duck my head low enough, the glass ceiling reminds me that its there. Every day.

If there are no examples of leaders of your race or gender, you’re less likely to believe you are leader-like and consequently you don’t aspire to be a leader,” he explained.

I’m 35 years old young. I’ve been a professional student since I was 5 years old. I’ve seen a lot of people, been to school with a lot of students, and played with lots of kids in the school yard, study room, on the athletic fields, and in road races. I have never had an Asian American teacher. Never. I have never been in a classroom where an Asian American stood in front of me and taught me, encouraged me, or learned with me. Now, the statistics show that Asian Americans are high achievers in education, in doctoral programs, and in post-doctoral programs. Yet never, ever, have I had an Asian American (or Asian national, for that matter) educator.

I’ve never had an Asian American coach.

I have never had an Asian American supervisor or boss.

I have never had an Asian American adviser or mentor.

And, only last year, did I work on a staff with an Asian American colleague.

I am currently the only Asian American director at my work.

 

I’ve been around the educational and professional block a few times, and yet the neighborhood has looked remarkably unremarkably the same.

 

So, if We are a model minority. If We are a culturally educated population. If We are supposedly surpassing the majority population in jobs and taking over coveted spots in higher education, then why are We not in leadership?

Asian Americans represent approximately 5 percent of the U.S. population and are projected to account for 9 percent of the population by 2050. However, they account for only .3 percent of corporate officers, less than 1 percent of corporate board members and about 2 percent of college presidents, despite their higher representation in business and professional occupations.

While there are institutional and structural challenges (along with inherent biases) for Asian Americans in leadership, I strongly believe that the first step is in being aware of the very stereotypes that we, and others, hold of us as Asian Americans:

Traits often associated with Asian Americans, such as social introversion, emotional withdrawal, verbal inhibition, passivity, a quiet demeanor and a reserved manner.

 

For many of us, those traits are true (just as they are with any person, regardless of race). Our challenges as Asian Americans — if we aspire to leadership positions — is in breaking down those stereotypes in a genuine and functional way. Know the stereotypes. Come up with a personal strategy that is comfortable for you, genuine to you, and resonates with you. Then, use those strategies to bust through the glass/bamboo/shit covered ceilings. Once you do, once you’re on your way, inspire other Asian Americans. Let them know it’s possible. But, do more than just tell them. Show them. Help them. Work with them. Mentor them.

 

It’s not that we aren’t good leaders.

It’s that we are perceived not to be.

But, the perception isn’t just in the mind. It’s institutional. It’s structural. And, it’s real. We need to find ways to productive increase Asian American leaders in positions of influence so that we can show — as a community of people — that we are good leaders. That we are agents of change. And, that we are here.

WHAT ARE YOU?

Though I’m full-blooded Filipino (which, only means that both of my parents claim Filipino birthplace and identity), I often get the “What are you?” question.

My heritage roots come from a series of islands that have indigenous villages of people who would mistakenly be identified as African. Through colonization, immigration, and cross-pollination, I have roots of Chinese, Spanish, and local Pinoy. My skin is light, my hair is light, my eyes are colored light brown while their shape are distinctly round-and-almond. My brothers have coarse hair, dark brown skin, dark brown hair, and wider noses than my own. Yet, we come from the same two parents.

In this latest NY Times article “Black? White? Asian? More Americans Choose All of the Above”, I am reminded of both my own What are you? questions but also that of my children, who in my opinion, truly identify with two distinct heritage backgrounds: Filipino and Puerto Rican. Like with any marginalized group that experiences isolation, young people of mixed heritage backgrounds are finding solidarity and a shared experience with one another. Where the what are you? question is usually served with a heaping dose of eye-rolling, individuals from blended heritage backgrounds are sharing stories — some painful, some hilarious — of “that totally happened to me, too!” and “I know what you mean!”

Many young adults of mixed backgrounds are rejecting the color lines that have defined Americans for generations in favor of a much more fluid sense of identity.

Does the increase in multiracial families mean, as so many like to leap, that “racism, prejudice and discrimination are slowly losing their power”? I always say, there’s personal racism/prejudice/discrimination which, I guess, you might be able to say blended families are beginning to deconstruct. We are starting to embrace the fluidity of identity, a concept that human development practitioners have always believed. That, with each life stage and each new experience, we have opportunities to grow and incorporate new ideas into our lives.

No one knows quite how the growth of the multiracial population will change the country. Optimists say the blending of the races is a step toward transcending race, to a place where America is free of bigotry, prejudice and programs like affirmative action.

Pessimists say that a more powerful multiracial movement will lead to more stratification and come at the expense of the number and influence of other minority groups, particularly African-Americans.

 

I have noticed an interesting occurrence as I work with college students around issues of identity. For the population I serve, there isn’t a formula for how students identify: I have some students of mixed heritage of White and Black or Asian who strongly identify with one or the other. As the aunt of a few biracial children where 1 parent is White, I want them to know that the “White” part is just as relevant — just as important — as the Asian or Puerto Rican side. They need to know that being 1/2 White holds significance, that it holds information about what they will know about and experience about the world and our society.

 

While I don’t believe that multiracial identity signals the destruction of racism (if it was only that easy!), what this does signal to me is movement in the direction of not just having to choose ONE thing. I believe this signals a move away from everything being so black and white (no pun intended!). That we can, indeed, be both black and white. We can, indeed, be both White and Asian; Puerto Rican and Filipino; or all four and more. In recent months, passport applications have changed to include “parent name” from “father and mother.” More and more places are adopting gender neutral bathroom signs; more and more people are referring to “parents or guardians” rather than just “parents.” And, more progressive environments are moving away from the assumption that everyone has a father, mother, one of each, or both.

None of us want for our children to be excluded. Whether it’s a spot on the soccer team, a seat at the cafeteria table, or a chance to be in the school play, we seek to include our own children. That seems a natural role for us as parents.

How are we including the stories, lives, and experiences of all children — of all adults — in our world?

Make it a daily practice to ask yourself, how am I including all voices and all people in that which I do.

Ask To Loosen the Mind

A mother turns to her 9-year old daughter and says, “It’s an incredible moment in history, dear. This is the first time, the FIRST time, that we have come so close to having a woman help run this country! Do you know what this means? It’s such a proud moment in our lives. I don’t agree with everything she stands for, but the fact that a woman is even on the ticket is monumental. Do you know this? Do you get it?”

While that conversation could have been any mother-to-daughter discussion in the 2008 election cycle, it actually took place 14 years earlier. Geraldine Ferraro. At that time, Ferraro was the first woman nominated by a major political power as its candidate for VP of the United States. I remember my mom talking to her friends, cheering, hoping, wishing that this would be the historic moment. They didn’t necessarily agree with the political agenda, but they definitely understood the significance.  And, they made sure we – my sisters and I – knew that it was significant.

But, did we? Nearly 15 years later, I can’t really say that I held on to the lesson of Geraldine Ferraro. I mean, I get it now. In fact, I’m even more amazed that it happened back in the mid-1980s because I don’t recall that decade being a particularly progressive one. Then again, I was 9-years old. The only “superwoman” in my life (aside from my mom, of course), was Barbie. She had a Corvette, a cute boyfriend, an amazing swimming pool, and cute clothes. Because, after all, that was the measure of success to a 9-year old. I also loved Care Bears, and felt it was my moral and humane duty to adopt a Cabbage Patch Kid.

Politics, not so much. I didn’t really care. I was nine. But, my mom wanted me to make sure that I knew that it was a significant moment. While I didn’t quite understand it back then, I certainly gained an appreciation for the context of her candidacy 15-years later. There were many events that helped to shape my early interest in feminism and gender equality, and I wonder “Was the Geraldine Ferraro event something that shaped it with latent effects?” I can’t say that I looked at her and thought, “If she can do it, I can do it too!” related to a career in politics. But, did something stick with me about power and gender?

So, this leads me to a question I’ve been asked a number of times in the past few weeks: “How much do I make out of Princess Tiana’s racial identity to my children?” Do our kids even get it? Do they care? Do we want them to care?

Ask To Loosen the Mind: In anticipation of the new Disney release “The Frog and the Princess”, a number of readers have written questions about whether or not they should draw attention to the fact that Princess Tiana is the first Black princess in a major Disney film. Here is a question from Emily H. that sums up many of the questions.

How would you suggest that I bring up the race of (Princess Tiana) in the new movie? I’d like to talk about it with (my) girls, but I don’t know how. On the one hand, I don’t – at all – want to “pretend” that she’s not African American, nor is her race any kind of taboo topic. On the other hand, since my girls seem totally comfortable with people of all races and race doesn’t faze them… How do I discuss it with them without ME making it an issue for them? — Emily H.

 

If I wasn’t too cheap (WordPress charges me to put video on my blog), I would be able to upload a video I took of me bringing home Princess Tiana dolls to my girls. In the video, my girls open up their Princess Tiana action figures and are thrilled by having a new toy. “Ooohh!! It’s Princess Tianaaaahhh!! Thanks, Mom!” they squeal and run off to play. Off camera, you hear my voice: “Girls, come back here! I want to talk to you. Do you know she is the first Black princess in Disney? It’s that so great! It’s so nice to have a doll that looks like you! See feel her hair, she even has hair like yours!” The girls continue, “Oooh!! Let’s play! Let’s play!”, virtually ignoring my historic lesson in racial identity and politics. I can’t b-e-l-i-e-v-e they want to go and just play!

The video goes on for about a minute. The girls talk about wanting to play. I lecture about how great it is that there is a princess that looks like them. They ignore me. I get upset they are ignoring me and my anti-racist lessons. They leave. I shut off the camera. But, before I hit the red button to turn it off, my off camera voice says, “You’ll understand it later.”

I didn’t quite think anything of it while filming. When I watched the video again later that night, though, I felt differently about what I had just done. As Emily asks, was I making more of an issue for them?  Certainly race is not a taboo topic in our house, either, but how much was I pushing this? If you ask my girls to tell you something important about President Obama, one of their first responses (after, “He’s the President” or “He’s smart” or “He’s a good dad”) would be “He’s our first President with brown skin.” That lesson certainly was not lost on them. President Obama has the same skin color as their dad, as their grandfather, as the leaders in their school, and as many of their friends. During the election, we showed the girls pictures of our past presidents and did a lesson on “differences and similarities.” They quickly picked up the difference in skin color. They also quickly picked up the similarity that the Presidents were all “boys”. My husband and I felt it was very important that we highlight President Obama’s heritage. Also important to us was that he was the father of 2 young girls, and my daughters shared that in common with their dad. They liked that the President had 2 little girls.

I don’t think my girls completely understand the “FINALLY, a Black Disney Princess!!” response that I feel when I see Princess Tiana. I grew up on Cinderella, Snow White, and Belle. I grew up on Barbies, white Cabbage Patch kids, and white characters in my books. I rarely owned anything that wasn’t white. I certainly didn’t own anything or read anything that had an Asian character. Now, as an adult with some purchasing power, I seek out dolls that look like my children. These days, I have more options. I recently bought a few dolls that have textured hair, like my children’s. And, I think that’s what I appreciate the most about Princess Tiana dolls. I like that my kids can play in this fantasy-like world and imagine themselves in it, included in it. I like that they feel her hair, and her hair feels like their hair.

We haven’t seen the movie yet, and I hope to write more of their reactions after seeing the movie (where, ahem, Princess Tiana spends most of her time as a FROG. Uh, huh.). But, much of what I have been reinforcing with my children in many examples (when we read multicutural books, play with multicultural dolls) is to point out differences AND mention that differences are a good thing. One of the biggest stumbling blocks that my college students seem to run into is the notion that differences=bad. They have been socialized to not recognize difference; that if you are different, you must be strange. So, if I think of you as the same as me, you must be okay. I find that, on a basic “treat me like a human” level, to be fine. However, pointing out any difference beyond basic humanity makes them socially uncomfortable. This discomfort around talking about differences is why I make a point to discuss it in a very casual way with my children. It’s been important for me to point out to my children that differences=good.

With my older daughter’s disability, it would be silly to pretend like she doesn’t have a prosthetic eye. It has become a part of her. That experience of going through chemotherapy, prosthetic fittings, dozens and dozens of doctor’s appointments has shaped who she is. So, to not treat her as such would dishonor her very difficult journey. It would be silly to ignore that she is different; different is what makes her so interesting.

I suggest finding a casual and informal way of pointing out that Princess Tiana is the first Black Disney princess. Perhaps gather their other dolls and do a simple lesson in “Similarities and Differences.” They will likely come up with things like, “They all have long hair; they all have 2 eyes, 2 arms and 2 legs; they all are Princesses.” They will also likely come up with “This Princess has brown skin; this Princess has white/peach skin.” Your reaction, and your leading, is what’s important here. It’s a good chance to talk about where Mulan comes from. In Emily’s case (she has biracial children with an Asian man), they might draw similarities between the way Mulan looks and Asian family members/friends. It might be a neat lesson to introduce them to the heritage of Pocohontas and Jasmine. If you react positively, and casually, to the different characters, your children will pick up that these differences and similarities are just a part of who we are.

I would also add that simply being comfortable with race is very different from talking about race.  Talking about race is something that takes practice and effort. It’s not enough to simply be comfortable with “being nice”, we need to practice “being nice”, right? Same with the race/diversity/etc. My colleague, Donna, the budding athlete, said to me, “It’s not enough to just like basketball and to be comfortable watching basketball. If you want to be good at it, you’ve got to pick up the ball and shoot some hoops.” (thanks, Donna).

My kids may not quite understand what that means for them or for me right now, but my hope is that they can look back and connect the significance later in their lives. The more exposure they get to different skin colors, hair colors, and stories, the less narrow their world becomes. So, thanks Princess Tiana!

Now, let’s just see if the “live action” Tiana (at Disney or on Ice) is actually played by a woman of African heritage. That’ll be the real test, right?

Changing the Complexion

A little too mad to even respond to this one, so I’ll just do blips.

I think it’s one thing to do racist stuff to adults, it’s another thing to make kids the subject of one’s racism and stupidity. This story is going viral, so if you haven’t checked it out, here it is.

More than 60 campers from Northeast Philadelphia were turned away from a private swim club and left to wonder if their race was the reason.

See, white kids never have to wonder if a negative behavior is attached to their race. It’s called white privilege….

“When the minority children got in the pool all of the Caucasian children immediately exited the pool,” Horace Gibson, parent of a day camp child, wrote in an email. “The pool attendants came and told the black children that they did not allow minorities in the club and needed the children to leave immediately.”

Except for the fact that the day camp PAID to use the facility for the summer, was accepted to do so, and entered into a contract with the Valley Club. So, yes, they were allowed to use the pool. And, if the white kids didn’t want to swim with them, that was THEIR CHOICE. But, instead of stating it was a choice, the white parents/children instead decided to remove themselves from an uncomfortable situation and just deprive another EQUAL paying customer the right to a service.

After being told the Club would refund their money…

“I said, ‘The parents don’t want the refund. They want a place for their children to swim,'” camp director Aetha Wright said.

They just want a place to swim. Jeez, really, people? Are the club members working on old school racism that the black kids might a) pass on cooties, or b) steal something from kids in the pool (perhaps their shorts? I dunno?), c) act like… kids?

While the parents await an apology, the camp is scrambling to find a new place for the kids to beat the summer heat.

And, that’s what white privilege does. It puts white people ahead and POC behind. So, while the white kids get to just sit back, relax, and enjoy their summer, the black kids have to scramble and find something to do. Next thing you know, you’ll hear from white people saying “I can’t believe all these Black kids are out on the streets. Don’t they have anything better to do?”

YES. THEY COULD BE SWIMMING.

A New Approach

I recently found out that I have a medical condition that could cause tumors in my spine. Yeah, it’s pretty bad. The funny thing is, though, that I’ve apparently had this medical condition from the day I was born due to a genetic condition that I was completely unaware of all these years. There are a whole host of other symptoms that go along with these spinal tumors, too — brain tumors, retinal tumors, etc.

spineSince finding out, I’m noticing my body feels different. I’m feeling aches in my spine. I seem to have a mild headache that won’t go away. My vision has been blurry. I have noticed that my foot gets numb on occasion. God! Have I made it all these years with nothing, and now that I know, are all these problems from this medical condition? Just a few weeks ago, my “aching muscles” were likely a result of the 3 mile hike I went on with my family. My headache – probably from the caffeine I’ve been drinking to keep from falling asleep after a disrupted night. My vision – likely that I haven’t seen an eye doctor in about 3 years. My numb foot — yeah, I probably just sat on it too long.

But, with this new information, why is it so hard to ignore the medical condition to explain these aches and pains?

So, why is this on To Loosen the Mind, and why does it get me thinking about race and racism?

Learning this new information has made me incredibly uncomfortable – physically, mentally, and emotionally. In this waiting period between now and my full body MRI in a month, I feel rudderless. I feel like the rug has been pulled out from under me, even though, essentially, the rug was never there to begin with. I know that once I meet with my doctors — the “experts” — I’ll feel better. I’ve slowly started to connect with other individuals who have the same condition as me, and I’ve begun to learn from them. I’m learning how they cope with the emotional turmoil. How they cope with the barrage of doctors appointments and scans. I’m learning how they keep positive despite the fact that they we will always be screened for tumors for the rest of our lives. THE REST OF OUR LIVES.

I’ve felt this feeling before — this feeling of physical pain, mental confusion, and emotional anxiety. I recall back to when I first started to unpack my own racism. I remember those feelings of being challenged about my learned messages about people of color, about sexual orientation, and about socioeconomic class. I remember being corrected when I made a “ghetto” joke to a brilliant African woman in college. I remember actually arguing with a Black woman that “permed” meant “curly”, and NOT straight like she thought it meant. Because of course, I was stupid right. She was one of the first Black women I had ever met, and yet I was the idiot authority on “perming.”

The more I learned about my own privilege, the more uncomfortable I got. The more I read, listened to, digested, the more I realized I had been living in the dark – void of information. I had an awakening, and that awakening was painful. I sometimes wished I didn’t know about the injustices that other people (including my own) experienced in our not-so-recent past. I wished I hadn’t learned about how families were separated on purpose in order to create and maintain a power structure of superiority. I wish I hadn’t heard about the ways in which men of color are disproportionately incarcerated, beaten, abused by a system that is supposed to protect them.

I imagine that’s what it’s like continuing through life thinking that we are all where we are solely based on merit and the willingness to try hard. It’s so much easier to believe that lazy people stay down while determined people rise up — all of them. It’s so much easier to believe that we got to where we are because of our invididual efforts, and not because of a system of privilege.

I’m still struggling with whether or not I wish I hadn’t learned about my genetic condition. Just a few months ago, I thought all these aches and pains were … well.. aches and pains. In this time between now and my first set of tests, I question whether or not I have a tumor. I question whether or not I have a clot somewhere. I question whether my fatigue is just exhaustion, or if it’s an adrenal problem.

Either way, once we KNOW, we have a responsibility. Once we accept that life isn’t as simple as MERIT, and that effort isn’t as simple as TRY HARD, and that freedom isn’t as simple as FOLLOW THE RULES, then we experience discomfort. If we care, we experience physical pain, mental pain, and emotional pain.

We eleviate that pain by getting more information, by uncovering the truth so that we can work to create a different path and a more realistic set of rules.

I’ll keep you all posted with the medical stuff. As far as the metaphorical stuff, I’m somewhat surrenduring to the pain and the paranoia. After all, it reminds me that there are others who have it both better and worse.

And, part of loosening my mind is putting myself in other people’s shoes.

The Diverse Friends

And so it begins — the marathon stretch of birthday parties, graduation parties, long weekend parties, and just-because-its-summer parties. This weekend was no exception.

Except, this time, my husband, who usually doesn’t engage me in diversity conversations (knowing that we’ll talk about it for the next few hours) actually turned to me during a birthday party and said, “Why are we the only brown people here?”

“Because. We are,” was my witty response. “What do we want them to do about it?”

“I mean WHY are we the only brown people here? It’s not like there is a shortage of people of color in this area or anything. So, why, in a room full of about 50 people, are we – and our children – the only brown people here?” He began to go on about how the children at the birthday party were all of school age, ranging from 4 year olds to 6 year olds, and that if this was an actual “school” party (the kind where you have to invite everyone in your class), then why were we the only brown people in the room (note: our children don’t go to school with the children at the party – we know the parents from college).

“I don’t know, honey. Believe it or not, there are people who don’t know any people of color – at least not well enough to invite them to their kid’s birthday party.”

Husband wasn’t impressed. “I just don’t understand. I don’t understand how kids can be in school and not know any children of color.”

Needless to say, the party ended but the conversation didn’t.

I reminded Husband of all the posts I have written over the past few years, all of the questions very well-meaning white parents write about how to engage in diversity, and all the frustrations people have about truly not having a diverse circle. Husband wasn’t implying that the people at the party were racists nor that they were ignorant. Not at all.

Rather, the point he was making was this: How can we truly teach our children to accept others if the “others” are never in the room. How can we teach children to see the beauty in our diverse skin colors if there is only one color in the room? Religion? Regional accents? Hair texture? Language?

And, while this question often gets posed, it’s worth bringing it back again — can we truly learn to accept all people if we only meet one type of person?

Why Can’t Tween Shows Get it Right?

I have a like/hate relationship with the tween shows. It’s no surprise to anyone that Disney has made some pretty bad choices when it comes to representing diversity, using appropriate language and avoiding stereotypes. When my kids were much younger, my husband and I feverishly bought into all the hype about “Disney Movies coming out of the vault!” and such, so we purchased all the ones we grew up watching as kids.

 

As we watched the movies – now as adults – we found ourselves appalled at the messages, songs, characters, and out-and-out racism that was in the movies and their themes. So, we stopped buying them and no longer fall into the “Disney Vault” trap.

 

When our older child became interested in the Disney Channel, we proceeded with caution. We don’t believe in banning certain shows altogether, rather we like to use television — with all of its negative/positive messaging — to start conversations with our kids. Of course, there is always a  line. Our daughter was pretty into Hannah Montana, and even though the only 2 people of color are the “mean girls”, we still watched with our daughter. Yet, Miley Cyrus’s recent poor choice of using “chinky face” crossed the line. So, no more Hannah Montana purchases from our house. Though, even with this one, we didn’t really bring it up with our daughter because she’s just too young to understand this part.

 

We do like Wizards of Waverly Place for their biracial family. And, they sometimes drop in some Spanish and such; so, this one is still good on our list.

We always thought that Nickelodeon, with it’s Dora the Explorer, Diego, etc., line up would be a safer bet. And, truthfully, I think the younger kid shows do get it right. So, what’s up with the tween shows?

 

scene from iCarly visting Japan

scene from iCarly visting Japan

This past week, we decided to try the show iCarly. We had watched School of Rock before, and we like the little girl (who is now Carly of iCarly) and decided to watch it. This was the episode where Carly and her friends are invited to Japan to attend an awards show. “Hmmm…” we though, “Interesting. This could be going somewhere good!” The group flew to Japan, there was some good humor in there, and then… of course….the tween show took a turn for the racist worse.

 

For some reason, despite the fact that 1/2 of this episode’s actors were Japanese and/or of Asian heritage, racist stereotypes and ignorant American-centricity began to rear it’s ugly head. Phrases like “those sneaky Japanese”, and “Why can’t anyone speak English in this country?!?” were abundant. Scenes of Japanese having to look up in the English/Japanese dictionary the word “Hello” and “a” were torture to watch. The obligatory karate match in which the American boy and girl break up the fight seemed to last forever. And, let’s not forget the Japanese toupe-wearing security guard who could only communicate with colorful childlike signs.

 

My husband and I kept the television on for as long as we could, and finally, we turned to each other and said, “That’s enough!” Our daughters asked why we turned it off, and, age appropriately, we simply said, “we don’t like to watch shows where people make fun of other people.” If they were older, yes, we’d go into the whole racial stereotyping, and maybe they do understand it on some level. But, for now, we have to talk about it in terms of who’s “being nice” and “who is not being nice.”

 

Frankly, I’m looking forward to the age when we CAN have these types of conversations — conversations about racial stereotyping, about American-centric ignorance, about ways in which media inaccurately portray certain groups of people. But, for now, this will have to do.

 

Anyone else out there with older/younger kids who would do this differently? Do you ban certain shows all together, or do you use them as springboards for conversation?