Asian American

Annoying Asians and White Privilege

| arun

Barbara’s Buddhism blog pointed me to an Asian Nation blog post by C. N. Le on a retreat at Deer Park Monastery, incorporating disruptive Asian foreigners, ambivalent Asian Americans and privileged white Buddhists who didn’t want to take out the trash.

As it turned out, of the 15 or so people who stayed to help clean up, all but one was a person of color — there was just one White person who helped in the cleanup … In particular, I took notice of one young White couple who came to the morning activities (apparently on the last day of the retreat, the monastery invites those from the surrounding community to come in and participate in a group walk and lunch). During lunch, this couple actually raised their hands when the monks asked for volunteers to stay and clean up, but for whatever reasons, just walked away and left once they finished their lunch.

But that quote’s just the part on white privilege. It’s worth reading the whole piece and Barbara O’Brien’s post too.

Calling Asian American Buddhists!

| arun

Thanks to a post over on the Angry Asian Man, I learned about the recently débuted Indian American Story blog.

HomeSpun: The Smithsonian Indian American Heritage Project is a national grassroots effort to create an exhibit chronicling the history of both immigrants from India and their descendants in America. Though Indian Americans number more than 2.7 million in the United States, the history, contributions, challenges and perspectives of this vibrant community have yet to be told at the Smithsonian Institution, the largest museum and research complex in the world.

To borrow a leaf from the Smithsonian, I’m going to start posting the voices of other Asian American Buddhists over at the group blog, Dharma Folk. We make up the majority of American Buddhists, and it’s time for us to throw our thoughts and experiences into the mix. Dharma Folk needs more diverse writing anyway. If you’re interested, just leave me a comment below!

An Asian Buddhist Superiority Complex

| arun

I won’t deny it. Many Asians question self-styled Westerners’ Buddhist authenticity. One friend doesn’t care to hear talks by white Dharma teachers. Another friend’s parents express open doubts about a multicultural Buddhist group. Bhante Noah Yuttadhammo’s own journey is often thwarted by individuals who refuse to see him as an equal to Thai monks. These are most certainly instances of a superiority complex. I frequently lash out at excessive hegemonic privilege here in the West, but I must be honest that similar prejudices also exist in Asian Buddhist communities. I’m reluctant to write this post. I’m afraid this admission will only bolster the dismissive attitudes of self-styled Western Buddhists so unknowledgeable about Asian culture they wouldn’t know the difference between Saigon and Prey Nokor. But I realize that part of the discussion is admitting that the community that I’m defending isn’t a cohort of living saints. Are “Western” Buddhists willing to learn about the true diversity and issues of Asian America, the 5% of their country that represents the history of half the world? They have to if they hope to live up to the values of diversity, tolerance and democracy. Choosing not to address racial inequity in a community that actively segregates itself is tantamount to promoting it. Separate but equal is not a solution.

Russell Leong’s Phoenix Eyes

| arun

Russell Leong and I met eight years ago precisely because of his Buddhist writing, but I’d never read a word of his until last night, when I flipped through several stories in his book Phoenix Eyes. From the University of Washington Press:

In styles ranging from naturalism to high-camp parody, Leong goes beneath stereotypes of immigrant and American-born Chinese, hustlers and academics, Buddhist priests and street people. Displacement and marginalization – and the search for love and liberation – are persistent themes. Leong’s people are set apart, by sexuality, by war, by AIDS, by family dislocations. From this vantage point on the outskirts of conventional life, they often see clearly the accommodations we make with identity and with desire. A young teen-ager, sold into prostitution to finance her brothers’ education, saves her hair trimmings to burn once a year in a temple ritual, the one part of her body that is under her own control. A documentary film producer, raised in a noisy Hong Kong family, marvels at the popular image of Asian Americans as a silenced minority. Traditional Chinese families struggle to come to terms with gay children and AIDS.

Leong paints the community that I know, an Asian American community that’s too diverse for the mainstream media to handle. His Buddhist Americans are honest in their imperfection. These stories are so personal to me that I almost don’t want to share them.