I was, like most of the students who posted before me, most profoundly moved by the movie, “Who Killed Vincent Chin.” I was so startled and dismayed to find that our legal system has such a flaw. I had known about such racism in theory, but it made me feel so naïve to see it played out in such a way. I can only hope that our legal system has improved over the past twenty years, but I’m not holding my breath.

For some reason, I equate my reaction to the film with the reaction of the white man in “Wilshire Bus.” I feel as though any action I make will be too little, too late, and too superficial to mean anything. After all, I hadn’t even heard of Vincent Chin until the movie was announced in class. Still, it made me want to do something like what that man did and reassure someone that “we” are not all like that. (I hesitate to even equate my race, such as it is, with that of Ebens and Nitz.) It bothers me, however, that such an action might be hypocritical and too delayed to have any meaning.

This reaction also made me think of the lesbian couple, Virginia and Meghan, in “The Upside-Downness of the World.” Because of the perspective of the story, it is difficult to tell exactly how deep and heartfelt their religion and adopted culture was. However, to wager a guess, I would say it is not especially deep. This troubled me because I feel as though I might have been in a similar situation. In this day and age, I feel as though it is far too easy to take a foreign or "exotic" culture for granted and assimilate the parts of it most suited to your needs. I guess there isn't anything inherently wrong about this, but from the perspective of the story, it is merely a superficial gesture. Virginia and Meghan haven't firmly adopted every Indian belief, only the worship of Krishna (which originated in the West) and the clothing and the food. They picked and chose, like women at a grocery store. So I can't help but wonder if I have picked and chose the aspects of a foreign culture (case in point: yoga) and discarded the rest. Would it then be hypocritical for me to do as the man did in "Wilshire Bus"? Would my gesture be just as hollow and narrow as his was?

These are just some of the problems I'm working with as I explore this class. I enjoy it - it disorients me and makes me uncomfortable, which makes me think. I think that is exactly what it is supposed to do. And the stronger reaction I have to the subject matter, the better it is working.

For this post, rather than discuss a particular reading I will be reflecting back on the film screening of “Who Killed Vincent Chin” for a quick moment. Also, instead of discussing the obvious injustice that came as a result of the freedom of the two murderers (Nitz and Edens), I want to discuss a short and probably unnoticed comment that Renee Tajima-Pena made at the question-answer session at the end because it stuck in my mind and I just needed to get it out. I cannot recreate the exact words that were said, so I will try my best to paraphrase to my best recollection.

When Tajima-Pena was asked how she had acquired the funding for the film she responded by saying “We didn’t have the funding for it at all. A lot of the money was fund raised through the [Asian] community”, who had raised about forty-thousand dollars in one night. Shortly after that, she followed it by saying something along the effects of “that’s how close and concerned the community was back then – we don’t have anything like that now anymore”.

Now, forty-thousand (US) dollars is a lot to fundraise in one night, don’t get me wrong about that. I am pretty sure that for any independent filmmaker being able to get that much extra help in funding is a god-send. However, the point that I am trying to make is that the last statement about “not having that [community support] anymore” genuinely shocked me. Given that I have not taken any Asian American Studies courses outside of this one, I am pretty confident in saying that the Asian American Community is more than likely stronger now than it was back more than twenty years ago. If Tajima-Pena is right about that, I want to know why that is. (I probably should have asked a question about that, but I just had lacked the grit to do so at the time – and now I really regret it).

As far as my knowledge goes, the support structure for Asian Americans has raised significantly if not by specific numbers or figures, then simply because I know that various Asian American organizations exist throughout the country, such as the Asian American Journalists Association, Japanese American Citizens League, Korean American Coalition, National Asian Women's Health Organization as well as various other Museums/Resource Centers throughout just California alone. The list can go on for pages, but the point I am trying to make is that there are hundreds to thousands of support groups that exist nationally throughout the United States (just check Google, like I did). Even on our own campuses amongst the 5C’s there have been many struggles for the support of the Asian American Studies Department as well as proper resources for API students (with some good results, such as organized student groups and resource centers like AARC, IDAAS, CAPAS, etc.) -- so why is it that she would say something like that?

I really wish I knew exactly what Tajima-Pena meant to say when she said that we “didn’t have [that]” anymore… Perhaps it’s a discussion about people being more involved personal interests and gain rather than communal (and “long-term”) ones. Asian Americans, at least in my opinion, have made significant progress throughout the years so maybe it is possible that those who were successful are now aimed towards furthering only themselves and a few people around them. Or perhaps, maybe some [Asian Americans] feel that there is no real need (anymore) for such wide support. Another likely possibility would be that some just are not aware of issues and things affect the overall Asian American community. Through my interactions with various students during my years at the Claremont colleges, I in fact, already know that they are all possibilities.

…So, if I “already know” about these things, why did I ask my question in the first place? Well, because to put it simply: it sucks. When you think about it, around the time that the film “Who Killed Vincent Chin” was made, Asian people were still being called Orientals. They have (we have) come a long way since then and have been making significant efforts and progress to be treated as “normal” citizens of this country. When Tajima-Pena statement, I cannot help but disagree because I see so many more support structures and resources available now than there were before – I suppose the only real problem is getting the knowledge of the places out and having them utilized to their full extent. Certainly, when things are on a professional scale the situation changes (I am talking about the “elite” and those who have become inducted into it) but to the average person with problems that need outside assistance I am more than confident that if one strives for it, they can receive help – they just need to know that help is there.

I do not believe it was an accident that she said what she did (plus, it was literally for a split second or two anyway). Regardless, even though I am probably being a little too critical (or thinking too much) about it, it slipped out and was said for a reason. I just wish I knew what that reason was. I guess I’ll try asking more questions from now on -__-.

-David Saetang

Like Helena, I also felt the pop of the Claremont Bubble while watching “Who Killed Vincent Chin.”

Ron Ebens beat a man to death with a baseball bat. His only punishment was a $3,000 fine and a few years of community service. How is this possible? Vincent Chin, the victim, was Chinese. The only reason Ebens did not receive any further punishment was because the justice system that his case was as racist as he is.

He murdered someone. With a baseball bat. There were witnesses. If the justice system was not upholding racist ideals, what was their reasoning for letting this man off with a $3,000 fine. Where I live, that’s the fine for shooting off fireworks on the 4th of July. If you kill someone with a baseball bat, you go the Chino Prison. Simple.

Hannah Arendt’s idea of the “Banality of Evil”—as alluded to by Renee Tajima during the Q&A—is the theory that ordinary and normal people are capable of carrying out horrendous actions because of situational pressure and circumstance, and not because of any innate evil or malice had by the individual. To see Ron Ebens’ expressionless face, and to hear him say, “this is something that could happen to anyone,” made me think of Adolf Eichmann before Tajima even mentioned the “Banality of Evil.” (Hannah Arendt wrote Eichmann in Jerusalem in 1963. It follows the trial of Adolf Eichmann, the high-ranking Nazi official responsible for organizing the transportation of Jews to ghettos and death camps in Eastern Europe during WWII.)

Ebens showed absolutely no remorse throughout the entire film—it was like he was detached from his own reality. In my opinion, he felt no guilt because his society never blamed him, or punished him, for having done anything wrong. It is this same society that created the evil and racism that led to the killing of Vincent Chin. With that being said, I do want to clarify that the fact that Ebens is the creation of his society does not excuse him from any blame. He killed a human being. Once again—how is it possible that he wasn’t punished?

Moving on:

I could really relate to the narrator in “A Fire in Fontana.” (The Claremont Bubble is once again going to come in to play.) While I’m not a gay, I have friends who are. While I’m here at school, which is such an accepting community compared to life outside the Bubble, it’s something I really think about. But when I go home, to Chino Hills, which is only 20 minutes away, people use the words “gay” and “faggot” as casual insults. And when I go visit extended family in Orange County, I usually have to excuse myself at some point in the evening to keep myself from screaming at the people around me. Or get into an argument with an uncle (Not the pot-head. A different uncle.) about whether or not films like “Brokeback Mountain” should exist.

But, despite my good intentions, because of my heterosexuality, I still enjoy privileges that others don’t. And because she isn’t black, so does the narrator. While she cheers for the Watts riots as a form of retribution for the black family that was killed in Fontana, she cheers while “sitting safely in a house which was located on a street where panic would be the order of the day if a Black family should happen to move in” (157).

-Nicole

“The Upside-downness of the World as it Unfolds”

I just want to start by saying that I really enjoyed this short story. This was not only for it’s content and critique of power, colonization, etc, but because this is the type of story and content that stirs up conversation and dialogue about issues that need to be verbalized but are so easily swept under the rug.

Since it is a short story, all of the details the author gives in the story, or lack of details, are important to the types of issues she wants to raise in the reader. The fact that none of the big idea issue topics she addresses throughout the story, such as British colonization of India, cultural appropriation, power and privilege to choose what can be appropriated and commodified, etc., all never get wrapped up in a neat, nice way by the end of the story. Instead, a lot of the time, she just leaves these overarching themes to never be finished and finalized.

My first reaction after reading the story was a bit of frustration with the lack of completing these themes and dynamics within the story, but upon reflection I realized that there is a reason why the author chose to write her story in this way, to make it “incomplete”. These ideas never get a concrete answer to make them all nice and neat at the end; these topics, issues, themes, what ever you call it, are always changing and need to be discussed in the context of that change. The colonization of India by the British did more long lasting effects than are visibly recognized. You can see it in the way that Virginia and Meghan are able to appropriate and take in “Indian culture.” They have to power and privilege to choose what they name as “Indian” and do not address the effects on colonization on India and the impact on Indian culture.

I know some people said there was a difference when someone takes culture and is really educated and has a genuine interest in it and someone who just takes the culture as a fad, but I have to disagree. Culture is a touchy topic and to appropriate it is still appropriating it, even if it is out of genuine interest. I just have a problem with it in general and don’t think there is any means of justifying whether your cultural appropriation is legitimate or not. Also, I don’t think it’s okay for Virginia and Meghan to go around in saris and act “Indian” because they think it’s so exotic and great. I also don’t think it’s right that narrator felt the need to also appropriate “Indian” culture because she felt that she wasn’t aware enough. She lived within an Indian culture that was infused by colonization. The culture she knows is the effect of colonization and the importance put on etiquette and proper English, and that should not be forgotten.

I know I sound like I’m ranting, but I was really confused by the discussion we had in class because it almost sounded as if people were saying that it was okay that Virginia and Meghan acted the way they did because of their genuine interest in India. Genuine interest or not, it still bothers me when people appropriate another culture or even their own to sound like they are more “aware” about their culture. But even then, people in a position of power and privilege are still the ones who are choosing what is really an aspect of the culture that is tied to a country.

Boy do I have a lot to say in response to Kari’s post. This might come out as somewhat of a rant, but I hope you guys get something good out of it too.

First of all, when Kari mentioned sashimi, I immediately thought about haole people and how they like to call it “sushi” (Haole means foreigner, usually used in reference to a culturally ignorant white person). It always irks me when people call sashimi, sushi. It’s not the same thing! ARGH!

Anyway, the point of that was to say that there’s a difference between genuine interest in a culture, and just using it to appear “cultured”. The difference is whether you actually take the time to learn about the culture (kind of like Meghan and Virginia) or just impose your own perspective on it and use it as convenient to you (like what Rachel N. mentioned in class about Mrs. Ramsey adopting Mangos, but using her own way to eat them).

I’m not sure if either type of cultural adoption is “ok”. Actually, I’m not really sure whether one is acceptable over the other either.

I’d like to say that I’d rather people actually care enough to learn about a culture than just use it ignorantly, but even that bothers me. I didn’t like Meghan and Virginia. Maybe because they were trying to educate the narrator (does she have a name?) on “her” culture and like she said, what right do they have to tell her what her culture is?

Another thing that bothers me (and we talked a little in class about this) is that they almost seem too excited about the Indian culture. They exoticize it and treat it as a novelty, where an Indian person would just live it and not make a big deal about it—and that doesn’t mean they don’t care about it, but they can appreciate it without the outward showiness. I think of Meghan and Virginia as “culture-droppers” (like a name-dropper, if that makes any sense).

Alex discussed in class how adopting a culture meant you could “pick and choose” the aspects that you like. This prevents you from really becoming a part of the culture, because you’re not invested in the culture in its entirety. You’re not willing to fully immerse yourself in it…you just kind of want to wade around in it. And this isn’t necessarily intentional. In fact, intention may be the only difference between the Meghan/Virginia style culture adopters and the Mrs. Ramsey style ones. Mrs. Ramsey knows she isn’t Indian, and she’s not trying to be. Meghan and Virginia are trying to be and don’t realize they are missing essential components. Sure they are outwardly Indian, but they are lacking Indian instincts. Their saris are faultless, but they are completely oblivious to the racism going on right in front of them (during the religious services no less) and that they themselves participate in (page 121). The narrator, Indian herself, has no trouble recognizing racism against her own race, so if Meghan and Virginia are so “Indian”, why can’t they see it?

Now that I’ve thought about it, I don’t think there is a right way to adopt a culture. With any culture, when you start as an outsider, you can never really become an insider…unless you are invited in. You can’t adopt a culture; you are adopted into the culture. The culture adopts you.

So back to my rant…let’s talk pineapple (this has to do with imposing a definition on another culture). “Hawaiian” pizza is my eternal torment. Don’t get me wrong, I like the taste, but it’s not Hawaiian. Just putting pineapple (which, by the way, is native to South America) on something does not make it “Hawaiian”. A few weeks ago I went to a church potluck where they served “Hawaiian haystacks”. I assume they were called this because they had pineapple on them. Interesting fact: the only two people from Hawaii there (my sister and I) had never heard of them before. “Hawaiian” haystacks, huh? Then why don’t they have them in Hawaii???

My friends also like to tease me that spam is a Hawaiian food. I have trouble restraining myself from punching them in the face. That’s a horrid stereotype. Just because we know how to eat it doesn’t mean it’s like our national (pardon me…state) dish. You’re from Hawaii…do you eat spam? What??? That’s worse than “do you surf” or “do you hula dance?” Or here’s another one my friend gets a lot: “Oh you’re from Utah…are you Mormon?”…or worse “You’re Mormon…so you believe in polygamy.” Umm…no…no we don’t.

A couple more comments on Kari’s post:
First, on being called “Hawaiian”, I usually get around this discussion because I do have a little Hawaiian blood; so when people ask if I’m Hawaiian, I just say yes and don’t make a big deal about it. What bothers me sometimes though, is when people refer to me as a Hawaiian (as a noun, not an adjective). I don’t really think I deserve that title. I don’t speak the language, I’m not incredibly knowledgeable about the culture, and I don’t feel I share the same plight common to native Hawaiians. In Hawaii, I consider myself a local, yes, but I’m haole too. Just living in Hawaii does not make you Hawaiian any more than living in a tree makes you a monkey…or eating bananas and saying ooh-ooh-eee-eh-ooo.

Secondly, about the kukui nut leis: not only are they cheap plastic, but they make them in gaudy colors too. So yes, kukui nuts are from Hawaii, but no, these cheapy plastic, bright blue things are not “Hawaiian”. And why are they advertised as kukui nuts? To exoticize them, because exotic is cool. They can’t just make big round plastic beads (too eighties maybe), they have to make them in the shape of kukui nuts (because that’s classy), and that sells.

~Kelly Cloward

I think I’m about to post something pretty controversial about the Vincent Chin case, but I’m interested in hearing other people’s responses. Although I’m personally saying this strictly from the information provided by the video, I’m inclined to believe that Vincent Chin’s fight with Ronald Ebens and his eventually murder can not be simply labeled a hate crime. I’m following Jennifer Lee’s argument in her book, Civility in the City, in which she argues that in a predominantly black populated neighborhood, such as West Harlem, it is the media that marks these areas as violent and brimming with racial hatred, but is not actually realistically reflective of the everyday relationships between Korean/Jewish merchants and their patronizing Black customers. Civility is the norm. Purely economic disputes between merchants and customers escalate into racially charged arguments because they provide channels through which the marginalized community can vent their frustrating situation, when it is one that the structural level is responsible for. I believe that Ebens and Chin’s conflict follows this model and initially began as a bar fight that became racially charged. Where that racial injustice is evident is in following trial where the Wayne County judge, Judge Charles Kaufman allowed Nitz and Edens to be released with only three year probation and a $3000 fine. I personally believed that it more problematic that Judge Charles Kaufman’s lenient sentence was more problematic than that he was murdered during an altercation that became racially charged from a bar fight. It may not be very significant to rank which one is more important that the other, because it is clearly wrong to murder just as it is clearly wrong for such brutality to be received with such leniency. However, justifiying Nitz’s and Eden’s sentence with the explanation that it is given to fit the person and not the crime, Judge Charles Kaufman essentially determined that Chin’s life was only worth $3000. This makes me wonder that in addition to attacking Eden and a call for a retrial, why did not the angry Asian American community also attack Charles Kaufman and attempt to take away his occupation as judge? To me he seems to be equally, if not more at fault.

I wanted to begin with something a little bit more light-hearted: I was looking at wikipedia with a couple friends the other day, and decided to see what they had to say about the "v-sign" or "peace sign" that our class talked about with regard to photo-taking.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/V-sign#Japan_and_the_V_sign
This is their account of the practice, although I'm skeptical. It seems like this is a case of willingness to presume some kind of Japanese cultural hegemony instead of looking for other explanations that may apply to Korea or Taiwan. Any sort of trans-national dimension (use among Asian Americans) is also not present in the article. If anyone has more information, I would encourage you to do a little user-editing and improve on the 1972 figure skating explanation.

On a more serious note, I wanted to say some things to dovetail with Min's remarks about "On the Upside-downness..." That Meghan initially struck up a conversation with the narrator only because she was Indian (and not because she noticed that they were both lesbians) is similar in character to Meghan and Virginia's empathetic sigh when the brown women were forced to leave the prayer meeting early to help serve food. In the former case, the narrator appears only as a racialized subject, to the exclusion of other aspects of her identity. In the latter, the white women see one kind of oppression (the "sexism" they deplore) when there are certainly other power dynamics (racism, colonialism) in play. I think this is a very common way of viewing privilege: people are much more willing to think critically and equivocate on axes of identity along which they have less power and ignore their own privilege along others.

I think Yamamoto writes about this as well in "A Fire in Fontana." The story focuses on the narrator's experiences with race working at a Black newspaper in Los Angeles during the post-war period (the two athletes mentioned on p 151 were two of the first Black NFL players, attending UCLA in the 1930s), particularly the narrator's difficulty finding her "place" within the discourse at that time (as in the case of the "white" and "colored" bathrooms). However, the story also speaks more subtly about gender. Just as the narrative of her speaking out against racial discrimination seems to be reaching a peak when she challenges the biases even of those on whose courtesy she depends (p 156), the story tails off. We next find her "Married and set about producing a passel of children" (156), "putting another load of clothes into the automatic washer, ironing, maybe whipping up some tacos for supper" (157). Unlike earlier situations in which the narrator's silence seems to be a decision made based on hesitancy (which Rachel mentions in her post), her view of the Watts riots is on a television screen in a segregated neighborhood, and her silence now is imposed by her domestic situation. The way in which this shift from politicized youth to inwardly-exulting domestic housewife is framed as inevitable offers a commentary on the ways in which the narrator's position on racism was circumscribed by her gender--if not by the ways in which people treated her in particular interactions, then by the confining space in which she resides as a mother and homemaker.

During class discussions on "The Upside-Downness of the World as it Unfolds," I was a bit surprised to hear that the story was framed as being cliched and having lost its social commentary on the conditions of queer and Asian communities. I suppose I understand what people mean by, "That narrative has been done before," but I think a more important question is not whether the story has been told before, but whether the conditions depicted in the narrative have been in any way resolved. Although written in a humorous style, the issues of gender, racial, and sexuality brought up throughout the story are in no way any less serious. I think the problem is that public sphere does get oversaturated with these sorts of narratives, and instead of people responding in a way to counter-act the forms of oppression and unequal power dynamics, they are passed off as being remnents of a previous era. The thing that comes up in my mind as a really good example of this is racism. I do not know how many times I have heard people tell me that racism is something of the past, and that the Civil Rights movement in the 60s erased that horrible thing from this world, and now we live in a state of blissful colorblindness. The film that we watched for class "Who Killed Vincent Chin", and the racism and injustice of the matter, seems ridiculous by today's standards, an impossibility almost. But I don't see a big difference between the racial injustice behind the Vincent Chin case and why we see so many black males in prisons. Racism is not a thing of the past, and it has become so insidious that it is now invisible. I think that the real power that racism, sexism, and homophobia really has is the power to make things not matter anymore. I think yes, as we discussed in class, some of the cultural references made in the story are dated, but as to the issues, no, they are still present, and if anything, even more problematic because of the invisibility of oppressed people and the subversion of their voices by normalization of oppression.

One thought I had while writing this story was how it was made more acceptable for Virginia and Meghan to acculturate Indian culture because of their genuiness. I feel that in most cases, what ends up happening is that all the desirable and positive aspects are adopted, while people retain aspects of their original identity which grant them power. It is clear that this is the case not only through the example of Indian women being taken away from the sermon to help cook while the White women, who are closer to the kitchen, are allowed to remain, but I feel that there are small hints as to the author's intent towards these two characters. In describing Meghan's necklace, she links the sound "trinnng" with the necklace and her English lessons. The protaganist taking English lessons are due to a colonial project, and I feel like this was deliberately linked to Meghan's adoption of the Indian culture because regardless of intent, her actions were a colonial project. Meghan and Virginia have the financial means to take trips to India, while they are able to maintain their whiteness and superiority as clear "others" within Indian society. Wishing everyone "peace and happiness," Meghan and Virginia do this by adopting a different culture, rather than confronting whiteness as a deterrent to these ideals.

-Min

After watching "Who Killed Vincent Chin," I felt like I had been brought back to the real world. Being on campus 24/7 can be isolating at times; Claremont can be like a bubble where everything seems relatively happy and safe. In class when we talk about Asian American issues, I feel almost as if the discussions are pointless. Although I think that it is still important to discuss and be aware of such issues, I also think that we could spend our time "fighting" for justice instead of sitting in a class and talking amongst each other. All these horrible things are still happening in the world, and I feel so insignificant or powerless to do anything about it.

One of the things that I remember from the documentary is the part where laid-off workers are beating a Japanese imported car with baseball bats and hammers to express their anger. There is a recession and national unemployment rate is as high as 10.5% (probably one of the highest point from 1950 to 2007). Many workers in the automobile industry are losing jobs due to increased number of imported cars from Japan. If you think about, however, the reason why these cars are being bought from Japan and sold in the United States is that they are much cheaper and better. For such obvious economic reasons, the US government allowed a huge influx of imported cars from Japan. Due to a sudden shift in trade and policies, many workers losed jobs, and the government did nothing to compensate for their losses. Logically speaking, the violent car-hitting laid-off workers should have been angry at the government, not the Japanese. Certainly the Japanese car companies were making cheaper, more efficient cars and therefore taking a lot of profit away from the US car companies. The US media framed it as if it were the Japanese people's fault that these American workers are losing jobs. In the end, this unemployment issue became racialized and was blamed on the Japanese.

Vincent Chin was Chinese. However, in the eyes of Ronald Ebens and Michael Nitz, he was an East Asian and did not matter whether he was actually Japanese. Even though Ebens and Nitz were charged of manslaughter, they were able to get away with only three months of probation. Why? Since they did not have a record of committing a crime. I do not understand how that justifies an intentional murder. Vincent Chin was beat to death. His brain was falling out of his skull and splattered on the street. He did not do anything wrong to Ebens or Nitz. Ebens, who was under the influence of alcohol when he killed Vincent, refused to remember saying anything racial. He kept denying that he had not done what the witnesses (who were sober, by the way) said he had done that night. Also, he refused to believe that what he had done was racist.
I wonder what would have happened if two black men had beat up a white man with a bat that night. Certainly, the black men would not have been given only three months of probation.
What I don't understand is, THIS WAS A MURDER. How could anyone get out of it with only three months of probation if he or she had killed someone intentionally? Just because I don't have a history of commiting crime does not mean I am any less guilty of a murder than a 30-year-old men who has a history of domestic violence kiling an innocent girl on the street. Since this was a Chinese man killed by two white men, it supposedly makes it all okay for the killers to get away with it with a few months of probation.

Unfortunately, Vincent Chin is not the only one who gets killed because of racism in the United States. The documentary made me realize how isolated and protected I was being on a college campus. Just outside of Claremont, it is a completely different world. The world is not so pretty. It's incredibly messed up.

Something I found really interesting in A Fire in Fontana, that we've discussed with other Yamamoto works is what's not being said. I think in the case of this story, what isn't said is sometimes more interesting that what is. One example occurs at the beginning of the story when the narrator encounters segregated toilets. She doesn't know where she belongs in the white/colored dichotomy. I had never even thought about the Asian American response to segregation, but that section really raised a lot of questions for me. Where did Asian Americans stand in that white/colored dichotomy? The narrator goes into the white bathroom without conflict, but she ends up feeling guilty when she encoutners an African American cleaning woman in the white bathroom. The narrator doesn't say what she feels, instead she tells us what she tried to make herself feel. However, the reader can infer from what isn't said that the narrator's guilt most likely stems from the fact that she somehow was allowed to go into the white bathroom, even though she might not "belong" there-- in a way that the African American cleaning woman would never be able to. Also unsettling is the event on the bus just before this scene with the white woman who gets a lot of pleasure out of watching segregation and discrimination in action. Surely the narrator's silence is an attempt to distance herself from the type of discrimination that the African American boy is being subjected to--against his knowledge. Although most other characters in the story speak their minds freely, the narrator constantly holds back, preferring to tell us what everyone else is saying. I wonder why it's so hard for her to find her voice. But it is hard for me to completely understand the balancing act of her situation. She must appease both the white community and the black community. The fire described in the story is another instance where what's not said is the truth. "The official conclusion [to the investigation] was that probably the man had set the gasoline fire himself, and the case was closed," (154). Everyone knows this conslusion is completely false, that the family were victims of a hate crime, but no one actually says this. Yamamoto extends the silence of her narrator to the slience of the entire community. Instead of speaking out against these injustices, the narrator points out a university scholars' racism towards Babo in Benito Sereno which seems to me to be one of the oldest arguments of the literary community and a distraction from the issues of her own life. I do not really go where I am trying to go with the post, these are just a random stream ideas that came into my head while I was reading the story. While I understand the narrator's slience, I wonder if it is helping or hurting her. I also wonder what she could do to change the things in her community that she dislikes. I think the story ending with the screams of a man, woman, and children might be a parallel to the narrator's silent screams. I wonder how much of her silent has to do with guilt. I wonder if she is feeling guilt, none of the events in the story are her fault after all. I am going to the end the post by saying again that these are just ideas, not completely thought out arguments of any kind. I enjoyed the story and think Yamamoto does a wonderful job at capturing a pivotal moment in history from an entirely now point of view. --Rachel Berman

In Hisaye Yamamoto’s A Fire in Fontana, she brings up issues racism towards African Americans in America “not long after the Second World War” (150) from the point of view of a Japanese American woman. Though the story is about racism towards African Americans, she brings up Asian issues as well. One thing that struck me in her story was how little attention Asians and Asian Americans got—most of the racism in the story was focused on African Americans. In the story, there are several examples of how Asians were ignored, to some extent. For example, toilets were “labeled either Colored or White.” (151) Being Asian, she was unsure of what to do, as the word “colored” (151) referred to African Americans, so she “dared to try White first, and no one challenged [her], so [she] continued this presumptuous practice at all the way stations of Texas.” (151) As an Asian American woman, the narrator was unsure of which group she should identify with, because she was neither “white” nor “colored.” Asians in this story are portrayed as a sort of in-between race. When she was given a “long look” (151) by an African American cleaning woman, she concluded “for the sake of [her] conscience, that the Negro woman had never seen a Japanese before.” (151)

This assumption reminds me of Esther’s reaction in Wilshire Bus, when upon hearing the drunk man openly bash the Chinese couple, Esther “found herself wondering whether the man meant her in his exclusion order or whether she was identifiably Japanese… but it did matter, she decided, because she was Japanese, not Chinese, and therefore in the present case immune.” (36) In this story, the main character initially felt a rapport with the couple, but once they were targeted as a subject of racism, she immediately separated herself from them in her mind, to get away from the discrimination. In A Fire in Fontana, the cleaning woman probably resented the narrator for separating herself from the African Americans and the discrimination that they had to deal with every day. Presumably, the woman thought the narrator was being presumptuous by using the “white” toilet, and therefore identifying herself as a “white” person, which separated her from the “colored” people.

The narrator tells us about how while working at the newspaper, “the inexhaustible topic was Race, always Race” (153) and that “more than once [she] was easily put down with a casual, “That’s mighty White of you,”” (152) Apparently, her coworkers saw her, at least in some sense, as being an oppressor, as being white, in that she didn’t seem to sympathize with their plight (yet). Because she didn’t argue strongly for African American rights and couldn’t see why they always had to talk about race, they saw her as against them. Similarly, in Wilshire Bus, the Scottish/French man apologized on behalf of the drunk man, but his apology held no weight for the Chinese couple, because he had not stood up for them.

On the other hand, there are also examples of racism towards white people, for example, Miss Moten, upon hearing about the Shorts’ story, said, “I hate White people! They’re all the same!” (153) This outburst, though more justified, in my opinion, than white Americans openly declaring their hate for African Americans, is also an example of racism, in which all white people are blamed for the actions and attitudes of some white people. The story even gives an example of a white priest who spoke out against the police theory on the fire. As a result of this man’s rebellion against the dominant views of his culture, he “was suddenly transferred to a parish somewhere in the boondocks of Arizona.” (154)

After the fire, an investigation was conducted and “the official conclusion was that probably the man had set the gasoline fire himself” (154) reminded me again of Vincent Chin’s case, and the fact that neither Nitz nor Ebens ever went to prison for their crimes, for obvious reasons. Both are examples of how the justice system works for whites and against people of other racial backgrounds.

I wonder why Yamamoto focused almost entirely on the racism directed at African Americans, when, as we saw in Who Killed Vincent Chin?, there was also substantial racism towards Asians. Though the Vincent Chin incident occurred well after the time A Fire in Fontana was set in, I would think that racism would have been stronger the earlier the time period.

I was also struck by the fact that a Japanese person was referred to as “a Japanese” (151), as if Asians, and Japanese people in particular, are not human, and therefore it isn’t necessary to add the word “person” to “Japanese.” On a similar note (or not so similar, I’m not quite sure why this particular thing reminded me of it…), In Who Killed Vincent Chin?, I noticed that many of the people who were interviewed referred to Ronald Ebens and Mike Nitz as Mr. Ebens and Mr. Nitz, while referring to Vincent Chin as Vincent or Vincent Chin. I’m not sure why they did this. Often, the title “Mr.” is applied to older men, but I was under the impression that Nitz was younger than Chin at the time, so I don’t know why people would refer to the two white men with the title “Mr.” while referring to the Asian man as Vincent or Vincent Chin. My only theory is that as a man of Asian descent, they viewed him as more of a child than Michael Nitz. Any ideas?

In response to Alanna's post, I have also been subject to discriminating questions and assumptions made by others. Not only do I put up with generalizations about being Japanese; I also face the stereotypes made about people from Hawai`i. Once, I mentioned to someone that I do not care for sashimi (raw fish). His response: "What kind of Japanese are you?" Whether the person was Japanese or not, it does not matter. I felt somewhat attacked - who was he to decide what of my preferences make me Japanese? Another common misconception is that because I am brown-skinned and from Hawai`i, I must be "Hawaiian." While I respect and enjoy many aspects of the native Hawaiian culture, this does not make me ethnically Hawaiian. I always feel awkward explaining that when people in Hawai`i identify a person as "Hawaiian," it means that s/he has Hawaiian blood. The way people in the mainland label me as Hawaiian is the equivalent of me calling someone from say, Pasadena - regardless of his/her ethnic background - a "Californian."

I also wanted to discuss cultural appropriation, as it was one of the many issues in "The Upside-downness of the World as it Unfolds." The protagonist in Mootoo's short story becomes increasingly upset as she thinks about the non-native Indians in Canada practicing an Indian religion, and wearing what they have deemed to be authentically "Indian" clothes. The way the Hare Krishna followers are described makes me feel as if they are serious about the Indian culture they take part in; they do not make fun of it, or take it lightly - in fact, the protagonist notes that her friends share a genuine love of the culture and know more about it than she does. What is most upsetting is that they treat the few Indians in their sect differently, and have them serve food to the other devotees.

I feel that often times, native Hawaiian culture is taken lightly, flaunted or used without a desire to really understand it. On an episode of Friends I watched tonight, Rachel reminisces of a time she and her sorority girls wore coconut bras (no doubt to reveal their figures to fraternity boys) to a "lu`au." A lu`au is a Hawaiian cultural feast, not an opportunity for sexual encounters. Native Hawaiian women did not wear coconut bras to lu`aus - or ever - if I recall correctly. Furthermore, a lu`au is traditionally a feast in which the gods are honored, and thus reverence should be in order when talking about or participating in one.

Recently, there has been a kukui nut lei fad in California. I have seen fake, plastic "kukui nuts" sold in stores, and worn by girls who probably don't have the faintest idea what the nut was actually used for. Fake leis are also sold in marketplaces in Waikiki, the tourist district of O`ahu. Although here the vendors are from Hawai`i, they are appealing to consumerism to make a profit off of a commercialized version of the Hawaiian culture. Not many people care to know that the kukui nut was actually a very practical plant whose oils were used by ancient Hawaiians as fuel for light. The raw nut could be used as a purgative/laxative to treat poisonings, the flowers could be crushed to treat thrush, and the sap of the plant was an adhesive. I'm sure there were many other uses which I am not familiar with as well.

Cultural appropriation has caused controversy over the Disney movie Lilo and Stitch. One of the songs written for the soundtrack invokes the name of King David Kalakaua, one of the kings of the late Hawaiian monarchy. Mark Keali`i Ho`omalu, a songwriter of Hawaiian ancestry, wrote and sold this and other songs to Disney. He made a profit off of the Hawaiian culture, whose chants (such as those calling out the name of King Kalakaua) are considered the intellectual property of the Hawaiian people as a whole. Music is considered as such because before the missionaries came to Hawai`i in the 1800s, Hawaiian was not a written language. Chants were passed down orally from generation to generation and are not credited to any one person or group. When Ho`omalu decided to sell songs in his name, many Hawaiians became upset. Some feel he was taking credit for and profiting from what was not his; others disagree with the representation of their culture in a Disney animation and Ho`omalu's (and thus Hawai`i's) affiliation with them.

Admittedly, I am also guilty of appropriating culture. Just today, I was selling tickets to our Hawai`i Club's lu`au in Seal Court. Hoping to draw people over to the table and interest them in buying tickets, I brought my ukulele to play. In my defense, I love playing music, Hawaiian and otherwise, and would never play for the sole purpose of making money. However, when one girl asked me what the song I was singing meant, I replied that it was about seaweed. After she left, my boyfriend, who was singing with me, pointed out that I had laughed when I gave my friend my one-word summary of the song. He asked me to take it more seriously, and I agree that people don't need to be encouraged to view Hawaiian culture, as he put it, "flippantly." I also gave the lyrics and meaning of the song no justice when I said it was about seaweed - there is so much imagery and depth evoked in the translation of Hawaiian songs. In addition to the literal translation, lyrics are replete with kauna, or hidden meaning.

Sometimes, in sharing our culture, we tend to simplify explanations of things because we figure the person doesn't want to listen to an entire lecture. My boyfriend once sat down with someone for half an hour, trying to talk about Hawai`i in seriousness; however, the guy kept joking inappropriately about it. I applaud my boyfriend for his attempt, as not many people would have wanted to take the time, only to have their words fall on deaf ears. Because Hawaiian culture has been used so ignorantly in various places for decades, even locals find themselves condoning (or at least not trying to stop) inaccurate representations of their home. But if we keep acquiescing, we are supporting the eventual loss of our culture to globalization.

"The Upside-downess of the World as it Unfolds" and "Chutney Popcorn"

In connection with The Upside-downess of the World as it Unfolds, tonight I viewed a film called Chutney Popcorn directed by Nisha Ganatra about a lesbian couple, one partner being Indian and the other Caucasian, caught between the cultural and social ties of acceptance. In short, the film centers around two couples: Sarita (Indian) and Mitch (Caucasian) and Reena (Indian) and Lisa (Caucasian). When Sarita discovers that she is incapable of having a baby, Reena, her sister, offers to be a surrogate mother. As the film progresses, both relationships are challenged and put to the test as to whether or not they will survive the pregnancy.

What strikes me as interesting are the similarities that run between both texts:

Both Indian mothers do not accept their daughters as lesbians. Mootoo’s text completely rejects the relationship between the straight mother and the lesbian daughter; the narrator comments “when my mother found out (a story in itself) that I preferred the company of women, she said that I had put a knife in her heart…” (113). In the film, the mother initially ignores Lisa, Reena’s partner, but later, after the pregnancy, accepts Lisa into her family. It was hard for me to believe that Reena’s mother all of a sudden became fond of Lisa just because of a newborn; Mootoo’s perspective on the matter seems more realistic.

Both protagonists also share the pressures of appearing to be a culturally “authentic” Indian. The narrator comments on the pressures of upholding her assumed appearance by saying that, “Instead of disappointing people before I even got a chance to make any friends, I went out and bought that [Indian] cookbook, which has just about saved my face more than a few times. The film portrays Sarita as being the “authentic” Indian whereas Reena identifies more with the American lesbian community. After Sarita cooks an authentic Indian meal, Reena feels culturally threatened. The next day Reena attempts to cook a similar meal to prove to her partner and herself that she is Indian. This raises and interesting question because in the text the narrator feels threatened by the Other whereas in the film, Reena feels threatened by her sister and mother. Perhaps one can only feels culturally secured within oneself by ignoring exterior pressures.

Meghan and Virginia in the text decide to identify with the “old” Indian self, the elaborately and brightly dressed Indian. For me it seemed as if this lesbian couples decides to go over the top in order to show that they know what they are portraying or talking about. It would be silly if they were caught not knowing something they were trying to represent or understand. Mootoo’s lesbian couple exploits the Indian culture as does the film. In the film Reena works as a henna artist. Interestingly enough all her clients are white. Her mother later makes a comment about how saris are now in fashion. It is possible to look at these images as one culture not wanting to accept its own, or even finding interest in another. The narrator wears casual wear and Meghan and Virginia dress in authentic Indian garb. Reena, unlike her sister and mother, ride a motorcycle and is dressed in jeans and a leather jacket.

There are many more connections to be made between the short story and the film. I thought it would be fun to share this with the class. One last point: in order to portray this cultural struggle, I thought it was interesting how both Mootoo and Ganatra used lesbian relationships to show how, like the understanding of culture, there is no one identification of the self, especially that of race.

I vaguely recall wanting to post over Spring Break about M. Butterfly, but you know what they say about the best laid plans.

So!

I just wanted to post some personal responses to "The Upside-Downnes of the World as it Unfolds," in particular some of the issues raised in Part 3.

There is the introduction of Meghan and Virginia, who, as the narrator puts it, "want to be brown and sugary like me." She emphasizes that "they didn't mean to mock or be malicious."

I remember that when I first came to Pomona I was faced with something I had never had to deal with before: the assumption that I spoke Japanese fluently, that I knew all about Japanese customs, that I was, essentially, Japanese. Which is about the farthest thing from the truth, really. No one in my family speaks Japanese, just me and my brother; we speak poor, broken Japanese, and there's no reason for us to use a language we aren't fluent in when we can just as easily use English without the embarrassment. In a lot of ways, being Japanese-American means that I have Japanese influences in my life. I was given a set of Girl's Day dolls when I was born, I collect maneki nekos (those good luck cats, with one or two paws in the air), we have sushi for New Years, etc.

So to have someone say, "Oh, you're Japanese!" and start speaking in rapid Japanese was disorienting. Add in the fact that most people like that were white, and I was completely lost. I suppose I should note that in general, Asian/Asian-American students always asked, "Are you from Japan?" Given all this, I was able to relate very strongly when the narrator says, "[Meghan] often exclaimed in longer Hindi sentences, catching me off guard, making me feel ignorant and like a charlatan."

What the narrator felt, "shame that [Meghan and Virginia] were better Indians" than her, more culturally aware of her culture than she was herself, was something I felt too. I've come to think of this as a sort of "commodification of culture," for lack of a better way of classifying it. Isn't it strange, that white people are "better" Indians or Japanese than those of us born into the tradition? Most of the white students who put me on the spot by speaking Japanese or assuming that I was well-versed in traditional Japanese culture told me that they'd "picked it all up" while traveling or living abroad in Japan. They learned culture through privilege. Likewise, the narrator of the story emphasizes how "white" those practicing her "culture" are.

This raised a lot of questions for me. First of all, what is culture? Is it being born into it, and creating our own unique experience from it? Is there a set of prescribed norms that everyone of a certain culture understands and accepts?

Second, who "writes" culture? Who determines what makes one a "good" Indian or a "good" Japanese? To what extent to "Japanese" and "Indian" people write it, and to what extent to "white" people determine it?

And third, why do white people go looking for another culture to become part of? I think this is particularly important. Yes, they are exoticizing different cultures, but isn't it telling that they don't, as the narrator says, "go check out [their] own ancestry!"? Does that imply that they don't have an ancestry worthy of incorporating, that it doesn't matter, that whiteness obscures those kinds of differences, or something else?

Just wanted to comment on those things because I felt like those were the issues that made it possible for me to relate to the story, and they were the things that elicited the most emotional response out of me. Chances are that I will wake up in a few hours and realize that I've written complete nonsense.

This post is partially a response to (inspired by) Vivian’s post regarding humor in M. Butterfly. I think she brought up a great point about how the tone of the story/play can be interpreted depending on its presentation. I was also taken aback when watching the clip, in that the artistic choice was made to make this play a comedy, when it is so strongly based on a operatic tragedy. This was done mostly through the ridiculous nature of the relationships between characters, and song is most clearly a man, or at least a humorously masculinized woman. I think this can have an effect on the audiences interpretation of other, more serious issues raised by the play. Where it in many ways undermines the very serious nature of racism and sexism, I think the end result, or the hoped result, is an honest one. In the end, the audience members, as westerners, are laughing at themselves. They are laughing at the ridiculous, pathetic nature of Gallimard, who still cannot see that song is truly a man, and his incompetence in regards to women, as well as the culture in which he is supposed to be an expert. In this sense, I can understand the reasoning for making the play a humorous one, as is does help to create a sense of irony and self-conscious laughter.

Continuing with the idea of interpretation, I was unimpressed with that of scholar David Eng. I felt as if he missed all ironic, possibly humorous undertones of the plot. He would have benefited from experiencing such a light-hearted interpretation as that in John Lithgow’s performance. The majority of Eng’s analysis in my mind focused on deep psychological issues, of which there was little to no evidence of in the play. Rather than laughing at the character of Gallimard, or even being angered by him as the image of the self-absorbed, uneducated westerner, (which is a valid and easily supported interpretation in my mind) he almost defends him, by doing a deep psychoanalysis on what stage of denial he was in. although I guess this does lend itself to a negative look at Gallimard, I think Eng quickly looses sight of the bigger picture. If Gallimard is psychoanalyzed so that he so desires to have his masculinity affirmed he is disillusioned and falls victim to a stereotype, there is no hope for the west. Are we doomed by are psychological tendencies to perpetuate stereotypes? This seems a bit excessive to me. If this were the case, it wouldn’t be worth writing about as, there is nothing we can do to change our patterns of psychological development and coping mechanisms. I don’t at all think this is Whang’s purpose in creating such a stimulating work.

My feelings are that although the point was not to be rolling on the floor laughing at the content of this play, I do think that the audience was meant to see some of the ridiculous results of stereotypes. Although I too didn’t get mush of the humor from the text, I could still see places where we are meant to be repulsed by the naivety of Gallimard and other represented westerners. Their situation and believes are supposed to be so bizarre and seemingly unthinkable, that for such a mistake of mistaken gender to take place, there most be at least a few lights out upstairs, if you know what I mean. But then we are reminded, that this can actually happen, and indeed it did. Walking through the mistakes and shame with Gallimard as our narrator, we see how unintentional he has in his stereotypical assumptions, but how his actions were quite racist and sexist. This reminds me of our earlier class discussion on racism without racists. Although Gallimard wasn’t necessarily evil, we as an audience are repulsed by his obsessive desire for self-assurance and power. We are sickened by his eager and unquestioning assumption of stereotypes, and yet we are painfully aware of how common this image of Asian women is, and how we too would scoff if a love-struck prom queen had fallen in love with an unfaithful Asian business man, likely blaming her poor choice on her gender and the color of her hair.

- Megan

These are just some ramblings of mine about staging plays...

One of the most interesting things about writing and then staging a play are the multiple theatrical interpretations and creative license which directors take on when producing the play for an audience. The youtube video of the stage production of M. Butterfly which Vivian Lin posted surprised me a lot and made me wonder about the director and, presumably, the author’s choice in setting the seemingly light-hearted tone of the play. While reading the book, I had thought the drama was a more serious one, but the clip changed my opinion a lot and surprised me. Though, I may be jumping to conclusions about the comedic overtones of the play, especially since the video clip was only three minutes, but I did get the impression that there were supposed to be many light-hearted moments and the back of the book does describe the play as a “slyly humorous” drama.

I was thinking perhaps it’s easier for an audience to be receptive to some of the issues at hand—queerness and sexuality, East-West interactions and fetishes, imperialism and colonized bodies, patriarchy, etc.—if they were dealt with in a light-hearted manner? Does it make it more accessible? Is it telling that Hwang originally wanted this play to be a musical rather than a play? He says in his afterword that “I would like to think, however, that the play has retained many of its musical roots.” (96) I think it’s safe to assume that people generally see musicals as these fun, over-the-top productions with show tunes and numerous song and dance numbers and jazz fingers, and if Hwang has the same impression of musicals, then did he originally want his story to take on these jazzy characteristics? I can definitely see M. Butterfly as a candidate for a musical, complete with rampant use of stereotyped characters and choreographed numbers with groups of Asian girls in cheongsams singing and dancing. In the realm of entertainment, and in this particular case, of stage productions, if the playwright knows that the content of a play is controversial to a mainstream audience or if the issues presented accuse the average person in the audience of similar crimes (i.e. Asian fetish, oppressing the East, fears of homosexuality), is it more “safe” to take a comedic or satirical approach rather than an angry one?

I’ve seen other kinds of stage performances, like spoken word by Asian-American artists, which also dealt with similar issues like colonized bodies, fetish, rape, but did so in an angry, confrontational manner. These performances seem like they are more cathartic experiences for the individual performer rather than a show of sorts or entertainment for the audience. And because many such performances are angry and emotional, I think they also force the audience to address their own involvement in perpetuating certain cycles of violence, oppression, etc (especially in those spoken word performances which address or accuses “you”). So, I guess, one of the points that I wanted to get at was whether you think a play or musical, especially ones dealing with issues of oppression and identity, that is geared towards a mainstream audience (like, for example, a Broadway audience) should offend, attack, or accuse the audience, or at least make them realize their complicity in such crimes? Rather than merely being a show which simply allows for thoughtful commentary by people leaving the theater, who saunter out of the theater “talking not only about the sexual, but also the political, issues raised by the work” (98) and then forgetting about the issues at hand the next day as they go about their own business.

I guess I’m writing this because I was slightly disappointed when I watched the play on youtube. I had expected a production that would’ve been more solemn, darker, more serious to the subject matter. Instead I got B.D. Wong interacting with John Lithgow in a very playful manner when talking about “Oriental” women with white men, and even when he reversed the roles in an attempt to show how ridiculous and offensive it was to glamorize the death of Asian women for white men, Wong wasn’t angry or accusatory at all, merely playful and mild-mannered. He's a great actor, but it was surprised me that this was the approach the director and playwright wanted to take. The audience’s laughter in response to the acting reminded me of the laugh tracks that accompany silly sitcoms. And as I was watching this, I kept thinking, “This isn’t funny! Why doesn’t America get it?” Can we tackle a serious subject without resorting to comedy and satire? Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions after only watching a 3-minute clip of the play, but my gut reaction after I watched that clip was that if the point of the stage production was to make people laugh at a story of mistaken identity, with witty banter, then maybe the bigger point was lost, and the conversation and self-reflection that this subject ought to provoke wasn’t achieved?

If anyone has a spare 3 minutes, here's a clip of John Lithgow and B.D. Wong in a scene from M. Butterfly on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dY4eGDCowQ . With plays, I always feel like I get more out of both reading the text and watching it as a staged production. B.D. Wong's falsetto singing voice isn't too bad, either!

--Vivian Lin

So if anyone is interested, I asked my mom about Marcos (late President/dictator of the Philippines) and Martial Law, and here's what she said. However, she said it's a narrow take on Martial Law, specific to the life of a college student.

"Before Martial law was imposed, many of us marched in rallies vs. Marcos. I was in the rally to Plaza Miranda which was the rally that pushed Marcos to declare Martial Law. We marched from school to the plaza. Lots of us from the exclusive schools were quite into rallying vs. Marcos. Some of our friends were more activist than others.

On the morning that Marcos declared martial law, we did not get the daily papers. There was no tv nor radio broadcasting. Yet somehow word spread that martial law had been declared. I was in college at that time. Most of us were afraid to leave home as we did not know what to expect.

Our lives were quite changed. The boys could not have long hair. Some of the long haired boys had to go to the government camps. That was very scary as you were always fearful for your safety. Marcos imposed a curfew so that we could no longer stay out past midnight. Everyone had to be home. Anyone caught out past curfew would be taken to camp."