Stereotypes and Race: "China is Here . . . "

--Big Trouble in Little China

For my long-time climbing friends in the Midwest, Todd Mei needs no introduction. He had a large and humble presence within a thriving community in Madison for several years and was the one who inspired me to do my first birthday challenge 9 years ago, which he helped me craft.  In fact, ingrained in my memory was being witness to one of his birthday challenges: three two-finger pull ups bearing a 100 lb weight, beverage in one hand, a beef brat or two waiting on the table. Wouldn't you want to know what makes this guy go?  When I asked him to write for this blog, I wanted him to tell a part of his story that would describe his experiences as an athlete - specifically an Asian American athlete.   You'll read it for yourself, but I love this part of his piece:  ". . . being part Chinese proved to be a major asset in the climbing world . . . well, at least among my friends." His sentiment has special meaning to me and I think for many of you who find friendship in your pursuits, it will for you too.  Enjoy!  

I was slight as a child, though I could appreciate feats of physical excellence as much as the next Southern Californian young'un - mostly in the way of the martial arts flicks of the 70s and 80s.  My father used to take my brother and me to the local Vietnamese-run cinema that had double billings on the weekends.  My brother and I used to munch on Haw Flakes and, after the films, try to reenact fighting movements.  Little did I know, but at the time I had seen one of China's budding stars in Jet Li as a young Shaolin monk fighting the Manchus.

Yet reenactments would be as far as physical endeavors went for me until my parents enrolled me in aikido.  As much as I hated it (would rather have been watching TV), it taught me how to roll, which became critical for time spent as a wrestler.  But even as I was establishing myself athletically as a wrestler in the 7th grade, I was slight and had to compensate for opponents' superior strength with brains and stamina.

Why do I mention this background?  I think it had a very profound effect on how I approached challenges in life.  Even in a multicultural Southern California (Orange County), as a Chinese-Japanese American youth, I still had a lot of things going against me.  Asian Americans were perceived to be nerdy by default, and my friends used to jokingly call me "Long Duc Dong" (after the character in Sixteen Candles).

There came a time when I had to establish myself, as juvenile as it may sound.  And it was pretty much the case that being smart really didn't matter with peers - in fact, it was a liability, as most readers probably know.  But proving myself in a sport of some kind went very far;  and this psychology pretty much stuck with me through my life (for better or worse).

Exit wrestling.  Enter climbing.

I never faced any difficulties with being a non-white when climbing in California.  One of the local stars - Lin Nguyen - was Asian, and any friction felt usually involved local residents in rural areas not taking too well to an Asian kid wearing lycra - not surprising.  When I sported the "Mike Tupper-Prince Valiant" haircut in 1993, I think the reception was remarkably worse.  Outside Devil's Lake Wisconsin, many years later (2000), I remember vividly walking into a bar with my friend from Fargo, ND.  Tim Halbakken was 6'4", and with me at 5'7" and wearing a motley Mexico soccer jersey, we made a pretty conspicuous duo.  Some semi-racist, anti-non-local comments led to a quick beer and a return to more liberal grounds in Madison.

But if anything, being part Chinese proved to be a major asset in the climbing world . . . well, at least amongst my friends.

Re-enter Chinese Kung fu films.  This time during the mid 90s.  Location:  The University Theatre in Berkeley, California.  My friend Phil Requist turned me on to Jackie Chan and Jet Li films - in their heydey.  At first the following was small but dedicated.  The pinnacle of their popularity was, as I fondly recall, a Spring evening in 1993.  It was a double billing of Jackie Chan's Drunken Master 1 and Drunken Master 2.  The cinema, an old school layout that could accommodate an enormous crowd, had been sold out.  The owner was so psyched, he announced the fact at the intermission between the films.  The audience roared, the lights cut, the second feature began, and when Jackie appeared on screen, everyone clapped and hollered.

The amazing choreography and acrobatics of both Chan and Li provided a rather funny background amongst my friends. Simply put, it was believed that being Chinese meant inheriting some degree of awesome athletic power - summed up best by the classic technique (well before Tarrantino) of the Buddhist Palm.

I had quite a bit of power as a climber, but by far the exemplar was Ingar Shu.  His ability was uncanny, and in the 90s he fast became a legend.  But he seemed not to really take seriously being a climber;  and this only added to his mystique.  I had always thought of myself as a representative of the Asian Wave of climbing, perhaps my fondest memories having been in the Midwest.  I'll never forget the many trips spent with Tim Halbakken, Patrick Neuman, Nate Emerson, Nick Rhoads, and Mike Simon.  Above all, amidst the many birthday challenges, I'll remember having to convince Neuman on a rainy afternoon to head out to Necedah, WI.  The steepness of Whiskey Direct afforded me just enough dryness to get the send.

Throughout my years, reference to being Chinese has come and gone.  I now don't climb as much, but every so often undertake birthday challenges. After completing the most difficult one I have ever done for Steve Edwards's 50th birthday, Lisa Romney (his wife who organized an event where all of Steve's closest friends attempted a challenge in his honor), replied, "But you're Chinese.  That's like cheating."  Nice to see the tradition continue.

Being non-white in the world of climbing . . . it was definitely an asset, but that was only possible due to the ethos that my close friends - in California and Wisconsin - cultivated.  Yes, the Stagarite's words never get old or lose their power: "Everyone has friends, but mine are the better."





Todd Mei is an assistant professor in philosophy at the University of Dundee, in Scotland.  He climbs and windsurfs occasionally, has a penchant for bourbon and gin martinis, and endeavors to keep one-finger, one arm pull ups as a staple of his maintenance workouts.  

Stereotypes and Race: All Things Samoan

I've had a lot of emails, text messages and conversations since initiating this topic on stereotypes and race, and have so appreciated the insight of the friends I've enlisted to tell their stories.   Stories that are powerful in their own right, and embraced by readers because their truths are told matter-of-factly, without blame or effort to perpetuate negative feelings.  The last time I hugged Logo Filloon was probably at our high school graduation in 1982, both of us covered with leis after proudly walking the grounds where we spent our teenage years.  Since then, of course a lot has happened, which is why I so enjoy getting in touch with old friends - because time gives perspective and allows a different kind of reflection.  I love Logo's easy, matter-of-fact voice and the story she tells about coming of age as a Samoan and how the very word, "race" can build impenetrable walls for her today.  Here you go . . .

I come from a pretty diverse background.  I was born in American Samoa, finished my childhood in Hawaii, coursed through my teen years in California, and now living out my life in Nevada.

My first encounter with race was in the second grade of Maili Elementary School on Oahu.  I met the only black girl in school, who I didn't realize was black until another student told me.  I had no clue.  One day she ran up to me and showed me her gums.  Not the chewing gum, but her gums that should have only been seen in a smile. She asked me why my gums were not dark like hers and my response at the time was "stop eating mud and your gums will clean up".  I did mention I was in the second grade, right?  Yeah, that was my first after school fight.

Moving on.

When we relocated to San Diego, California my younger sister and I were enrolled at Launderbach Elementary School.  Race was a bit more evident here.  The school was pretty diverse, but I found it wasn't my skin tone but my nationality that the other kids had a problem with.  When my sixth grade teacher introduced me to the class, he also mentioned I was Samoan.  My facial structure, my accent (which I had no idea I had) labeled me different.  My hair turning blonde while my skin darkened during the summer didn't help either.  Especially when my mother kept my hair long and when not braided looked like one long afro.  I was a walking Q-Tip.

One day, I was walking down the hall to my locker and a group of Cholos were standing near my destination - like right next to my locker.  I remember thinking, "What time is it?  It's not even lunch time yet."  But instead of facing off with me, one of them stepped up and asked "So, what are you?"

It was that one question, that one moment when everything changed.  Now, instead of wanting to fight me, they all wanted to know what I was and where did I come from.  The Black kids thought I was "a Black Mexican," and the Mexicans thought I was Black with Indian hair.  It didn't matter to me because I wasn't either.  I was me, the Lone Samoan.

By the time I entered eighth grade more Samoan families were moving into the neighborhoods.  I started hearing about Somoans at a rival junior high school called Granger, and I was frequently asked if I was "related" to any of them.  I had no idea how it came about that all Samoans are related.  No one asked if all Germans were related or if all Italians were related.  As soon as I mentioned my nationality it was, "Hey are you related to Junior in Utah?"  Junior?  Junior who?  I've never been to Utah.  It was this reason alone that when my daughter was twelve years old she came up to me and said, "I'm never dating a Somoan, Mom.  No matter who I date I'll probably end up being related to him."

It eventually balanced out in junior high, but by the time I started my shophomore year in high school I began to question who I was.  I questioned my heritage, our family ways and the lessons that my father taught my sisters and me about being true to our culture and customs.  Maybe being Samoan isn't a good thing.  Maybe I should embrace the new cultures of the Western society that I've become more and more accustomed to.  Maybe I should lose the Samoan lilt, the thick kinky hari and be friends with non-Somoans.  How else am I going to be an actress if I'm "so" Samoan?

Yet, what was I suppose to do?  Turn from my parents and family who I loved very much just to fit in?  Ignore a heritage that pre-dates French explorer Louis-Antoine de Bougainville?  The lines of the two separate people I had unknowlingly become were beginning to blur.  A teenager living a marginal life will push the boundaries of race until something breaks.  Either it is the break from trying to fit in or the break from family, or both.  

Fortunately for me I had an awesome family who loved me, and still do to this day.  My father knew  I wasn't going to just graduate from high school to marry a Samoan (hopefully not one I was related to), have kids and be the obedient wife.  He knew that from his daughters I would be the one to leave home.  And so I did.  But with me went the knowledge that they had my back.  Which was a good thing because I ended up married to a white guy.  When I took him home for the first time for dinner he thought he was dinner.

When he took me home for the first time he said to me as we pulled in their spiral four car driveway, "Be sure you say you're Hawaiian."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because they don't know what a Samoan is," he responded.

"I'm not Hawaiian," I said.

"I know, but just for now say you're Hawaiian, okay?" he counters, pleading look on his face.

I didn't know how I was to take that, but I was young and in love and he could do no wrong.

He introduced me first to his mom, then his dad.   And although everything was pleasant I remember being really, really nervous because of what he had told me in the driveway.

His mom: "So you're from Hawaii?"

Me:  "Yes."

His mom: "So you're Hawaiian?"

Me: (choking) "Yes."

His dad:  "Really?  You look Samoan."

I've had my adventures where race played a part in them - some good, some bad.  And I realized early on that I really, really don't like the word "race" or any form of it - "racism," "racist," etc, not only in context but the word itself.  It hinders you, builds up walls and sucker punches you when you least expect it.  When filling out any form and it asks for "Race" I usually put down the Kentucky Derby, or NASCAR 500 or my favorite, Cat Town Races.

Logo Filloon was born in Leone, American Somoa.  At a young age, her family relocated to Hawaii and settled on Oahu.  In 1977, her father once again relocated the family, this time to San Diego, eventually making National City, California their home.  Although she started writing during her junior high school years, it wasn't until late 2011 that she self-published her first book, The Binding; the first in The Velesi Trilogy.  Book 2, The Drifting, is  available on Amazon.com for Kindle with the final installment to be released in 2013.   Logo's books are on my list of books to read for young adults! 

Birthday Challenge Fun

It isn't a challenge if you're not challenged.  That's the point of a Birthday Challenge - you need some element of training and it has to be hard.  And FUN.  A year has past since John-Pio's last Birthday Challenge which appears to becoming an annual thing.  He's been going to Boulders Climbing Gym since he was an infant in a car seat, harnessed up when he was 9 months old, and has been climbing in some form ever since - mostly bouldering.  In fact, he was always afraid to go UP, so he never did get to the top of any climb on rope.  EVER!  Two weeks ago during climbing team training, he admitted he felt dejected and unmotivated because he couldn't successfully participate in the climbing game that involved drawing a cool picture if you made it to the top.  That must have done it in for him, poor kid.  So that's when my mom-voice-of-strong-encouragement kicked in and I said, "If you want it, you have to go after it.  And once you get it, you'll feel amazing.  I'm not telling you to do it now or tomorrow or next week.  But that's a very good goal for you and I want you to get to the top because I know you'll feel amazed."  And that was that.

When he went to team last Wednesday, I told him to have fun because I knew I would be doing the same.  In the middle of training, as I was coming down from my climb, Brad and I noticed John-Pio was three-fourths of the way up the wall with his climbing coach belaying giving him words of encouragement.  She put a blindfold on that boy and sent him up to ring the bell.  Nervously and tentatively and seemingly on the verge of panic feeling around for his next big jug, he had just one more move to make and I had just one more breath to take and he'd be ringing that bell.  Yes!  He made the move and rang the bell.  It really was a moment of triumph.  He made his first climb to the top in spite of his fear of heights, and I got to witness it silently hoping that this might mean he'd do the same outside on real beautiful rock. 

Today's Birthday Challenge was a bunch of different things: push-ups, sit-ups, plank, burpies, jumping jacks, dynos, and running.  But the real fun was witnessing him climb up the wall blindfolded eight times, each time with more ease, more ingrained muscle memory, and more strength.  And definitely more fun - challenging hard FUN. 

Stereotypes and Race: How I Fit into America

Most teachers will agree that one of the best moments in education is when former students return and fill you in on their life.  I get updates on some more frequently which is the case with Maiyer Xiong - an awesome student I had in 7th grade several years ago.  Back then she was intelligent, conscientious, and social and that much hasn't changed.  What's different now are the topics of conversations we can have - all very engaging and spontaneous, especially the ones that have to do with identity and fitting into "systems".  I'm proud to feature Maiyer as she describes what it was like to be an immigrant and the realities she faces as she battles the internal conflict with race and stereotypes.  I love her expressive writing and how she shares her story as an Asian girl trying to fit into America . . .

Going to school in America isn't always as great as it seems.  I am very privileged to be here and to be educated.  I would never change a thing and I appreciate all that I have.  But when someone thinks that I am unworthy of an achievement I have made my own, I will be offended and I will be defensive.  Rumor has it that "white" has become the minority.  It's okay for an African American, Asian, or Hispanic person to be a minority but as soon as a white person is a minority then it becomes an issue.  Sometimes I do wonder if there is a more worthy white person who could have had my spot at the UW.  I have to repeatedly remind myself that yes, I am worthy and yea, half the time it's timing and half the time it's luck, so I guess I am just lucky.  Why should I even have to ponder this though, is the real question.  The world out here is just so competitive and I really do believe that in order for one person to succeed one must fail.  Not everyone can be pleased. 

Immigrating to America at such a young age helped me assimilate to its culture.  One downfall to this ability was that along with becoming more and more American, my knowledge of my culture and my language became hindered.  I started to realize that even my friends sometimes forgot I was Asian.  This may have been because I perfected my English so that I wouldn't have an accent or that I intentionally drifted myself away from the Hmong community out of not wanting to be associated with Asian stereotypes.  I am happy as the person I am today, and I have made wonderful friends from all types of backgrounds, but if I could have grown up without knowing what Asian stereotypes were, I believe I would have more Asian friends.  The desire to disassociate with such stereotypes did help me to become a culturally diverse person but at the same time it's not fair to the people who raised me.

The only stereotype I allowed myself to become a part of is the one about Asians being smart.  Unfortunately, I've always felt like I had to live up to that, not only because other people expected nothing less of me but also because I felt that that was the only way to get by in this world.  If you lack intelligence, common sense, or talent, anything that makes you stand out from the rest, then you will be left behind.  I've always grown up to be sure that I impress those who expect me to do well because of my father; however when the results don't prove true, twice the amount of pressure results in the feeling of failure being twice as much.  There is no doubt that I influenced those around me to desire the same knowledge but that did not ever lighten the load of pressure.  It should be understood that culture and people are dialectic just as much as people and people are dialectics.  Our culture shapes us, we shape our culture, and then we shape each other.

This country is composed of diverse backgrounds, yet we cannot seem to accept the differences that make us up individually.  Walking in public with my ex-boyfriend who is a white male, always sparked the glares of at least one Asian person, or white person - and for what reason must they stare?  Society is branching into so many different groups nowadays and it should be embraced.  Of course now that it is 2013, interracial couples, gay marriage, transgender, etc. is accepted more and more, which is wonderful.  Happiness is a way of life and if it must be pursued in a way that someone is not used to, then so be it.  America emphasizes individuality but those who deem themselves different are gossiped about, exiled, or made fun of.  People expect change without wanting to change themselves or be part of it.  You can't just sit and watch life happen, you have to live it.

Maiyer Xiong is an Hmong immigrant from Thailand with English being her second language.  She is a second-year student at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.  Her current major is biology with the hopes of obtaining a Global Health Certificate as well.  During her free time she enjoys playing volleyball, working out, and painting.  She's spent at least a hundred hours with Misa and John-Pio as their babysitter and playmate extraordinaire! 

Stereotypes and Race: In Other News . . .

Since this blog is about climbing, culture, cheese, and connections to professional development, it's time to write about . . . climbing!  Climbing has gone through its usual ups and downs with my unruly schedule and commitment to other sports, like running and skiing and kids.  It takes a climbing trip in my future to get me into the groove of training, and it's not just one trip but two.  Hooray!  I'll be in Arkansas late March and El Paso late April.   Yesterday was double coupon day that started with a 90 minute run and then a few hours of bouldering.  I felt so thankful!

On the "what's happening in WI" cheese line, today was John-Pio's birthday party.  He officially turns 8 tomorrow which is always a bittersweet time of year.  Brad's mom died unexpectedly 8 years ago just a day before John-Pio came 6 weeks unexpectedly, too.  I often imagine the two of them passing each other in the deepest part of John-Pio's sleep.  That's a comforting thought.  So a bunch of kids came over (practically his entire class) and they decorated cupcakes, made art, played Star Wars, and read books.  That 90 minutes went slower than yesterday's 90 minute run.  Anyway, John-Pio will be 8 tomorrow and he doesn't have a care in the world, which is how it should be when you're a kid with a one-track mind that begins with the letter P.

P for Play.

In other news . . .

Well, okay I am not going to sit on this any longer.  I have to get it out.  As we were going through Misa's Friday folder and re-capping the week she told me she took a survey about bullying in her computer class last week.  The teacher in-charge was helping kids fill out the personal information part and asked if everyone knew what "ethnicity/race" meant and she proceeded to go through the choices:

White
African American
Native American
Asian
Latino
More than one race

Most kids in her class, including Misa, had never taken an online survey like that before so Misa raised her hand to ask a question.  And before she could even ask it, the computer teacher "thought she knew what I was going to ask" because she said, "And if you're Asian and White, check the 'more than one race' box."  Here's the rest of the conversation as retold by Misa (teacher in italics):

"I'm not just White.  I'm also Chamorro."
Okay then check Asian.
"Chamorros are from Guam."
So you're not Asian? 
No, I'm Chamorro.
Just check one or the other, or check 'more than one race.' This part isn't that big of a deal anyway.

That last comment was more frustrating to Misa than the effort it took to get her to understand that Guam is not in Asia, and she's not Asian.  And besides that, it had nothing to do with the question Misa was going to ask in the first place!  I was laughing inside and holding my head very still straining my neck muscles to keep from shaking my head all the while internally scolding that teacher.  Misa just sighed and asked, "If it wasn't a big deal, why do they even ask what our race/ethnicity is anyway?"

Good question, Misa.  Good question . . . 

Stereotypes and Race: Three Times This Month

The everydayness of stereotypes and racism happened in three's this month.

The first thing that happened:  Misa was called a "Brown ugly girl with a mustache."  So heartbreaking for me to hear as she described her day casually, mentioning this incident in her usual stoic manner, wanting to remain distant so as not to let on that it was harmful.  I knew when she brought it up a few more times that evening that her angst was building.  So on the last mention, I scooped her up in my arms because her feelings seemed just too faraway, and as she settled in, I was met with a well of tears that perhaps helped her say, "It really hurt my feelings."  She went through a painful litany of how to solve the problem - everything from putting on the foundation make-up she uses for her theater performances to wanting to avoid the kids who deflated her, to sucking it up and forgetting about it.  Needing to give this the proper attention, but not wanting to dwell, I swallowed the lump in my throat and coached her through tough and hurtful interactions like these.  We role played a few times, and then when she returned to her spunky self, I asked what she wanted me to do to help heal the situation.

"Maybe you can email my teacher and my principal and tell them it hurts when I'm teased for things I can't help."

Things Misa can't help:  Brown.  Girl.  Mustache (which is really just facial hair above her upper lip, and happens to be dark . . . because well, she's Brown).

The second thing that happened:  Our neighbor, a super friendly guy who always goes out of his way to ask about Emma, Misa and John-Pio made this comment while riding in the elevator to our prospective floors:  "We (he has a super friendly wife, too) notice that your kids play with other kids who are so diverse and we just think that's wonderful to see!"

Translation:  "Diverse" as in their two best friends who are BLACK.  "How wonderful to see" as in, how nice of you to befriend them.

And the third thing that happened just today: This came up on my News Feed from one of my Facebook friends:

Wish my downstair neighbors would STFU!!!! Im about thiiiis close to calling the landlord and letting him know the family of mexicans below me are way over occupancy. Ive had enough screaming and wall hitting to last a lifetime.

So.  If they were a family of white people, would he have noted that?  Because of his experience right then and there, is he somehow absolved from publicly raging a racist remark describing screaming and wall hitting Mexicans, as if that is an integral behavior of Mexican culture?

I point out these everyday acts of stereotypes and racism not out of hyper-awareness, but because they help me understand my own racism and tendencies towards stereotypes.  Whether I act on them or just think them to myself, I have them.  Bringing these acts to a conscious level is one way to face that while being in ambiguous situations like the ones above can be painful and annoying both, there just might be a chance of systemic change even if they are isolated events.  For the sake of Misa and other young people who are directly confronted with confusing and hurtful acts of racism, I believe it's worthwhile to continue to bring these experiences to the forefront - not to encourage anger or victimization, but to empower and reframe.

Stereotypes and Race: The Tsunami Called Racism

Racial legacies run deep.  There is no doubt that resentment by different ethnic groups toward whites, lingers on today.  It's a complex feeling, but James Kamoku reminds us that trauma, even  though 100 years has passed, is unforgettable and difficult to ignore.  Hawaiians had their homeland invaded, were exposed to diseases, and had an alien culture forced upon them.   These are not just stories passed down from one generation to the next, but as you'll read here, they're stories that James is still living today.  I love his honesty and how he confronts his own attitude about stereotypes and race.  Read on and reflect . . . 

Even Hawaii, in its isolation, does not shield its inhabitants from the effects of racism.  Having been born and raised in Hawaii most of my life I have lived in a racist society.  Although the majority of the people I associated with were similar to me -- low-income, large family, welfare types -- there was still this lingering misconception that most Hawaiians are dumb, poor savages.  Most people would judge us as a whole group and not by our individual strengths.   We were easily written off as a short-tempered, mean, hateful race by other groups living in Hawaii.  For example, I would overhear kids in high school state, "Don't stare at them [Hawaiians], they'll think you are challenging them."  I was totally taken aback as I had never even met them, and they already had this idea that I was going to hurt them. I understand that some Hawaiians are like that, but not most.  Many Hawaiians are loving, caring, and empathetic people.

There are many reasons why some Hawaiians dislike other races, and vice-versa, many of which are still prevalent today in the United States.  For example, in Hawaiian classes, we were taught about Hawaiian history that included Hawaiian laws, monarchy, and language.  We were also taught how Hawaii became a part of the United States.  It is in this class that I found that there were many disgruntled Hawaiians over the "overthrow of the peaceful nation of the Hawaiian kingdom."  Many of my classmates, at that point, started developing a dislike for all white Americans because of something that happened 100 or so years previous.  I am not going to lie;  I, too, had a lot of anger towards the individuals who took part in the overthrow, especially when we learned of the effects that it was having on me and my family today.  For this reason, some Hawaiians come to hate America and Americans.  I asked those Hawaiians why they hated any group that had nothing to do with the overthrow 100 years ago.  They simply replied, "Because they [other groups] are not doing anything to reverse its effects and we [Hawaiians] are still dying from it."

It is very difficult for me to not hold any specific race accountable for not helping to reverse the effects of an event as it is still hurting me and my family today.  For example, my family is still fighting over the rights to our familial lands, which have been in our family for generations.   Even though we have the land deeds, the state created a law that if we did not develop the land and someone else lived on even a portion of the land and paid taxes on it, then they could "adversely possess" the land -- which would mean that this individual would now own that piece of land.  It just so happens that the individuals that are doing this are wealthy white Americans, or wealthy Asian Americans.  This reality does not help the effects of racism and, in fact, cause those effects to become amplified.

Take my uncle, for example, he went to the house of an Asian man that was trying to live on our family lands.  When he asked the man to leave, the man said he did not need to leave because he adversely possessed it and if my uncle came back, he would shoot him.  So my uncle found the man's name and phone number and called him but the Asian man did not answer.  The Asian man called my uncle back and told him, "If you, Stupid Hawaiian, try to do anything about the land we live on then I am going to shoot and kill you and your stupid Hawaiian family".  That was a recording left on my uncle's answering machine that he played for  my family.  Talk about race warfare.  This is just one of many examples of how racism plays out in Hawaii and how my family and I are affected by it every day.

So, as you can see, racism can come in many different forms whether it's a judgement about something you don't understand, a misconception of people you don't know, or even through learning of something that hurt a specific group in the past.  All of these things along with its continual effects on those groups lead to racial stereotyping of all sorts, even on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  It even affects a Hawaiian living thousands of miles away from home.

James is a middle school teacher at Sherman Middle School in Madison, WI.  We teach in opposite ends of the building so I don't see him much.  In fact, the only real interaction I've had with him (before forcing him to write for my blog) was when I pretty much put him in a headlock during a training that taught teachers how to respond to student physical aggression.  I'm still waiting for James to submit his bio, but in a frenetic moment, I at least snapped a pretty good pic of him!