The Race Card Project
By Michele Norris
Deborah Halperin,
Bloomington, IL
A man said this to me while we were in line at the post office. I was 18 and had just moved from Hawaii to Iowa for college. I am part Chinese and Filipino. I look Asian. He must have thought I was Vietnamese? Korean? I was caught off guard. I said nothing. No one ever said anything like that to me. In Hawaii we all look “hapa” but not on the mainland.
James Estanislao Herr,
Los Angeles, CA.
Dad’s side came over in 1717–Swiss-German and Irish with some Danish and Greek thrown in. Mom came over in 1954. Filipino, Spanish and Chinese with I guess some Portuguese somewhere along the way given my middle name. Grew up in an all white community outside Philadelphia. Not sure who I was but I didn’t fit in. Moved to LA in my 30’s and found a community that looked like me–or what I thought looked like me. Still have to introduce myself as Filipino. But also found Hapa’s and Tisoy’s and Mestizo’s in all kinds of mixes and colors, shapes and sizes. We all have our way of identifying who we are and why. I find comfort in the brown side of my heritage but still proud of all of it. One conversation I’ve had with many mixed race friends, that I haven’t heard in general public discussions. When you choose to marry and have kids, does your mother’s side or your father’s side become the anomaly. This used to bother me a lot more when I was younger. Not so much today. Thank you for this Project and this opportunity.
Learn more about Estanilao Herr’s six words on NPR’s Morning Edition
Lisa Ayame Eckenrode,
Asheville, NC
I spend too much time on the /hapa reddit but it’s the only place I can find mixed community right now
Chattanooga, TN.
I’m half Japanese and half white. In Hawaii, where I grew up, mixed race people like me are called “hapa” or “half.” Although I feel most at home in the primarily Asian culture of Hawaii, I also felt like I stuck out physically because I was tall and had fair, freckled skin. But, when I moved to the mainland for college, I didn’t fit in there, either. People ask, “What are you?” “Do you have foreign blood?” But sometimes they also say, “I never thought of you as anything but white,” and that hurts just as much.
Michael Kenji Yamasaki,
Rio Rancho, NM.
OBSERVATIONS – Where are you from? No really … Where are you from?
I can relate to Mr. Marc Quarles (African-American, with a German wife and two biracial children).
There were times when I too have been asked, “Where are you from? No really where are you from?” However, in addition to that, people have also commented how well I spoke English (despite the fact that I have been in the United States over 50 years.), or they would “welcome me to the USA.”
Growing up in Hawaii, race wasn’t really any issue with me. In Hawaii, Asian is the dominant population. (By the way, I notice that for the most part, Asians and Pacific Islanders are lump together as if we are one giant homogenous group. A lot of “mainlanders” don’t seem to get the idea that Hawaiians, Samoans, Japanese, Koreans, Filipinos, Chinese, Vietnamese, etc. have their own unique traditions and culture.)
I recall that when I was getting married to my wife at the time, one of party from the mainland made a comment, “There aren’t too many Americans here.” Referring to the population of Hawaii. I was so shocked and speechless about it. She also commented that a lot of Mexicans were moving into Kentucky. (Her tone of voice signaled that she was not happy about it.) Unbeknownst to her, one of my best friend who was riding with us in the back seat was half-Mexican (but could pass for White). You should have seen the look of his face. Ugggh!
It was when I moved to the mainland (New Mexico), I became aware of my “minority” status. Asians are few and far between in the area that I live. It felt odd to be a “minority” coming from Hawaii. Most of the comments directed at me were out of ignorance rather than racism. False assumptions based on generalized idea of an Asian person.
I remember once where my wife told me while she was at the mall with our baby “hapa” (biracial) girl, a woman thought how adorable our daughter looked. She inquired where did my wife get the little girl. (Oh, did I forget? My wife is White from Kentucky.)
My wife almost told her, “At Walmart, on sale now. Down on aisle 15.” People assume that when a White woman has an Asian looking child; the Asian child is adopted. Sheesh, give me a break.
Gianna Crosetti Bickson,
Honolulu, HI.
“Hapa” is the Hawaiian work for mixed and usually refers to someone of mixed race who is at least part Asian or Pacific Islander. My husband is of Hawaiian, Chinese, Filipino & Japanese ancestry and my family is Italian, Russian English. This makes our kids “Hapa Haole”. While slang, the term is not derogatory, President Obama could be called Hapa Haole on his mom’s side.
The worst thing about being hapa is the challenge in finding a donor match if you need a transplant. Time Magazine quoted the rate of three out of four people will find a donor match if they are Caucasian. This goes down to 1/4 if you are a single minority ethnicity and shrinks even lower the more mixed race you are.
My beautiful hapa kids have very difficult odds if they ever face needing a marrow or organ transplant. For cultural reasons. Asians have very low rates of donation and small numbers in the data bases. I work in the surgical device industry and was aware of this. I banked my children’s umbilical cord blood for their use if the need should ever arise. I pay $200 annually for this service. I am glad I can pay it, but wish it wasn’t necessary
Ann Hirschhorn,
Silver Spring, MD.
My parents grew up in a time where interracial couples were criticized for diluting the race of their children. My father expressed a fear that because I was of a mixed race background, I might not feel that there was a culture or place where I belonged. My mother grew up in the Philippines, within a culture where whiteness was prized and being mestiza was preferable to being a full Filipino. Because of this I grew up constantly being told how lucky I was to be mixed, to have the best of both worlds, to have experiences in both cultures. They bought me books like “Who am I?” and reflected to me a narrative of my life where I got to experience things much more interesting and diverse than my peers. I believed it made me special. But then, there were the times that I also felt that I didn’t belong. The only Filipino in Hebrew school, B’nai brith, to have a bat mitzvah. Using Filipino words for private parts and bathroom talk avoided the possibility that I use a “bathroom word” that anyone would recognize at the wrong time.
It also led to a lot of confusion when I didn’t know the same potty words as everyone else. (I didn’t know what an armpit was until 4th grade!) With my mother’s family when Taglish and kapampangan words were thrown around with the assumption that I would know and recognize them. Feeling stupid or not Filipino enough when I didn’t know what they said or how to respond. Being biracial has meant for me that I was often confused in a place where I was supposed to feel at home. It meant being both and insider and an outsider in two very different worlds. It did also mean, that I got to experience some of the best of both of those worlds. I got to feel a part of both the Filipino, Jewish and American narrative. Holding inside of me a place where all those things could intersect. Living with cultural conflicts in my home gave me the ability to think critically and to take ownership of my worldview. By virtue of having two, often opposing views, in one family, in one home, I learned that there were many ways to understand myself and the world. I do feel profoundly lucky to have the experiences that I have of being Filipino, white, Jewish, mestiza, mixed, hapa. But it was important to me to own both the beauty and the struggle.
Mark Moldwin,
Ann Arbor, MI.
Understanding Race Project
University of Michigan
Lois Ann Knezek,
Sanger, TX.
I was born and raised in Hawai’i to a Hawai’i born Japanese woman and an Irish Bostonian. Luckily, in Hawai’i, everyone is mixed so I didn’t feel any different. Then I married a haole from Texas and moved to a culture where people didn’t know what I was. I wasn’t Black, White or Mexican. What was I? Did I speak English? I am now a teacher at a local university trying to help my undergraduate pre-service teachers become aware of the sea of colors and diversity they will see in their future classrooms. Thank you Race Card Project!
Julie Taeko Gramlich,
San Francisco, CA.
Love the idea for this Race Card Project. Thanks for starting it. I am currently writing a book about growing up mixed-race and identifying as Hapa.
Bryce,
Denver, CO.
ha•pa (hä’pä) adj. 1. Slang. of mixed racial heritage with partial roots in Asian and/or Pacific Islander ancestry.
C.Q.
Menlo Park, CA
I know people who have been surprised that I’m Asian. Why should it matter? So much beyond my eyes defines me. I am proud to be Hapa, but Hapa isn’t all I am.
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