Diversity Makes Us Curious

There’s an interview with me at Kabiliana, a site devoted to multicultural children’s books.

Check out the other interviews while you’re there!

Half or Double?

In today’s edition of The Japan Times, Kristy Kosaka writes about the  half/double dilemma. 

My husband and I had a little chat about it this morning at breakfast.  “What do you think is the best term for children like ours?” I asked him.  “Half, bi, or double?”

Hafu, the Japanese rendition of “half”, is the most common way to describe children with one Japanese parent and one foreign parent.  To me, it brings to mind that old Cher song, “Half-breed.”  (“Half-breed, how I learned to hate that word,” etc.).  My husband, however, has memories of a Japanese musical group from the 70s called Golden Half.  Apparently, they were biracial and way cool.

“What about bi?” I asked him.  (Actually, this sounds like “bisexual to me,” but I tend to refer to our children as “bicultural.”

“That makes me think about buying something,” he said.

Okay, whatever.  “How about ‘double’?”  This is a more recent term, one, I believe, that was coined, or at least encouraged by, filmmaker Reggie Life.

For my husband, that would be two fingers of whiskey.

So what do you call your kids?

King Obama

Okay, so you’re probably wondering what my kids think of their new multiculti president.  Or not.  But I’ll tell you anyway.

My son became interested early on.  He’s read a few biographies of American presidents in manga form, including those of Lincoln and Kennedy, so he’s been worried about Obama’s personal safety.  And he’s been thinking about race.  We’ve had some interesting talks.  “A long time ago,” he said,” “Aunt K. and Uncle T. wouldn’t have been able to get married, he mused.   I guess he’s more aware of skin color than race, since Aunt K. is Indian, not African-American, and about the same color as President Obama.  But actually, my son isn’t so far off the mark, since not so long ago, it would have been illegal for Yoshi and I to marry in the United States.

Anyway, over the past few months I shared bits of trivia with him – Obama had a pet monkey!  Obama’s dad wouldn’t let him watch TV even after he’d finished all of his homework!  Obama likes Spider Man!  And his daughters like the Jonas Brothers, too!  Of course this piqued his interest.

Happily, a bio of Obama for children was recently translated into Japanese.  I bought a copy for my son, and he read it immediately.

My daughter, on the other hand, recognizes Barack Obama from the newspaper.  Lately, whenever I’m reading the paper she becomes very interested in the photos and asks me about them.  “Who is that?” she signed.  First, I taught her his name via fingerspelling.  However, I don’t know how to sign “President” or “leader.”  The closest thing I could come up with was “king.”  “He is like a king,” I signed.  “The King of America.”

Big in Japan

Check out Jane Singer’s  account of the expat literary scene in the Asahi newspaper.  There’s a picture of my good friend Wendy!!

Novel Writing Contest

Lookee here!  My publisher is having a novel-writing contest.

Leapfrog Press announces its first novel competition, opening on January 15, 2009. The aim of this contest is the discovery of fine literary works including offbeat, experimental writing by new and experienced authors alike. The contest is open to any novel, novella, or book-length short-story collection written in English and not previously published.

Manuscripts may be submitted between January 15 and May 1, 2009, and will be considered on a rolling basis. Please see the Leapfrog Fiction Contest page for details as they are posted.

Dear Leader

I watched President Obama’s inaugural address a second time with my Japanese husband.  When he saw the huge crowd in the mall, he said, “It’s just like North Korea.”  Yeah, maybe it looked that way to him, but it wasn’t the same at all.  In North Korea, people have to pretend to love Kim Jong Il, even if they hate him.  They’re probably required by law to assemble when he makes an appearance.  If they love him, my guess is they are basically brainwashed.  In Washington D.C., however, all of those people were there because they wanted to be there.  Some of them traveled cross country to stand out in the freezing cold for an historic event.

Save the Cheerleader, Save the World

A couple of months ago, my husband and I watched the first season of Heroes on DVD.  For those of you who are unfamiliar, it’s a story about a group of seemingly normal individuals – a geeky Japanese office worker, a hospice care nurse, a high school cheerleader – who have extraordinary powers, which are sometimes viewed as curses.  They are trying to save the world from imminent destruction – a task that would appear to be overly daunting, if not impossible, for mere human beings.  And yet, it’s really very simple: Save the cheerleader, save the world.

I’ve been thinking about this phrase and the incredible expectations that have been foisted upon President Barack Obama.  The One.  In the months since the election, many have written about his potential for greatness.  He has been featured in a comic book about his favorite superhero, Spiderman.  He has served as a muse for artists and fashion designers and poets and musicians.  We all want him to be somehow more than human – a superhero –  and because of this, it seems that he cannot help but disappoint.

But this morning, as I watched footage of the inauguration, I was nothing but proud.  Even if he does nothing after today, he has still accomplished a great deal.

Go get ‘em, Obama:  save the cheerleader, save the world.  On this day, at least, we are all behind you.

My Next Tryst

I mentioned before that my mother-in-law thinks that I’m having an affair (probably because I’ve gone out of town several times over the past year due to book-related events).  Well, I’ve got another one tomorrow that I’m really looking foward to.  I’ll be attending a book club meeting in Kobe.  Apparently there will be wine.  Looks like a good time!

I still think my husband is hot, but since my mother-in-law thinks I have a boyfriend, I’ve been trying to decide who this theoretical lover would be.  I’ve got a crush on Obama, but he’s happily married, and I respect that.  George Clooney would be another option.  But today I’m thinking it’s the surfer guy/yoga guru Eric in my novel. 

Meanwhile, moms all over the place seem to be in love/lust with Edward Cullen, the vampire in Stephanie Myer’s bestselling series.  I’ve started reading Twilight.  I think I get why these books are so popular.  I also had a revelation while reading – maybe instead of turning the sexy, mysterious Gypsy musician in my first (unpublished) novel into a heroin addict and having him run over by a train, I should have kept him alive and saved the first kiss between him and my heroine for the last page.

Call Me Okaasan: Adventures in Multicultural Mothering

Cover of Call Me Okaasan

My next book, Call Me Okaasan: Adventures in Multicultural Mothering, will be published in May of this year by Wyatt-Mackenzie Publishing.  This book is an anthology of twenty (mostly) original essays by emerging and established writers on raising children across two or more cultures.  There’s some terrific writing here by Holly Thompson, Rose Kent, Marie Lamba, Susannah Pabot, Kate MacVean, Violeta Garcia-Mendoza, Dee Thompson, Devorah Lifshutz, Andrea Martins, Corey Heller, Kathy Hamilton, Juli Herman, Anajli Enjeti-Sydow, Saffia Farr, Stacy Lewis, Xujun Eberlein, Michele Corkery, Katherine Barrett, Leza Lowitz, and Angela Turzynski-Azimi.   The book is now available for pre-order via Amazon.

Winter Blues

Now I know why my son hates going to the ear/nose/throat specialist.

I’ve had a very bad cold since the 20th of December.  Last week, it turned into a middle ear infection.  I thought only toddlers got those, but clearly, adults do too.  My son has had ear infections for weeks now, so we’ve been going to the doctor together.  Three out of four people (four out of five, if you want to count my mother-in-law) in our family were hearing-impaired at the same time.  There was a lot of yelling, and “What?  What?” going on. 

So, anyway, the doctor pierced my eardrum in order to drain the fluid.  He said that it would take about two weeks for the hole to close – enough time to get all the fluid out and dry out my middle ear.  But he was wrong!  Two days later, he had to re-open the hole – this time without anesthesizing my inner ear, and dang, did it hurt!  When my son had to have the same procedure, I completely understood why tears started oozing from his eyes.

He’s doing fine, now.  He said that everything is noisy – the flushing of the toilet, the turning of pages in a book, my voice.  It makes me think that his ears have been infected for months, not weeks.  At any rate, I’m happy that I no longer have to yell at him to turn the TV down.  And I’m happy that he hasn’t suffered permanent damage.