Dear Wen Ho Lee

Dear Mr. Lee-

What I was most impressed by in your book "My Country Versus Me" was your instistance on staying positive and not harboring bitter feelings towards the United States, despite the horrible wrongs the government committed against you. Moreoever, you remain "proud to be an American", which--after your ordeal--seems unimaginable to me. While I was reading your account I could not help but hear the echos of the Korematsu v. United States and other such cases that involved racial discrimination against Asian Americans throughout history, specifically within the legal system. It made me think that this cycle of discrimination against Asian Americans is an unending one--and this belief was only butressed by your findings at the end of the book regarding anti Asian-American sentiments in the United States. However, you ultimately believe that there is still good in America. You explicitly state that "The fact that I could be released after being so wrongly accused is evidence of the good in America. I can still say that I am truly glad that I am an American" (331). This positive outlook is inspirational.

Asian Americans and the Law

When I was reading "My Country Versus Me" by Wen Ho Lee I was reminded of the long and painful history of racial profiling against Asian Americans, specifically in the context of the American legal system. Wen Ho Lee's story is reminiscent of so many other cases involving Asian American discrimination. I am reminded of the infamous 1944 case of Korematsu vs. The United States, in which the court supported and validated the internment of Americans of Japanese decent. I am also reminded of the 1886 Supreme Court Case of Yick Wo vs. Hopkins, in which the application of a California state ordinance was applied in a discriminatory manner against Chinese Laundry business owners. The case of Wen Ho Lee is similar to these cases in that the court, despite the Equal Protection Clause of the 14th Amendment which asserts that "no state may deny any person equal protection of the laws", deliberately denied these basic rights to Wen Ho Lee and discriminated against him because of his Asian decent. This is obvious because he was singled out, as evidenced by his similarly situated non-Asian colleagues who were not prosecuted or even investigated. This type of racial profiling has as long presence in the history of the legal system, and it is extremely pertinent even today, especially for the Muslim American community.

Significance of Blues Music

When I was reading this book, I was reminded of a paper I once wrote about the significance and origins of Blues Music in the context of African American culture and experience. Many scholars believed that blues music had its origins in the field call songs and traditions of African American plantation slaves. As I continued my research, I found out that blues music was cultivated and continued by African American communities, and my studies regarded the importance of blues music to African American history and culture. Blues music was important because these songs often recalled the history of slavery and abuse; a history that white Americans wanted to erase. These songs became the voice of pain and suffering, and many scholars agreed that even after slavery ended, the evolution of blues music provided significant insight into the changes that took place in the lives of African Americans. So what does this have to do with "Reservation Blues"? While Blues music was founded and cultivated by African American culture, it seems to have the same effect for the Spokane Indian community in the book. That is, through blues music, these Native Americans are able to voice their painful memories and present situation. It is a way of recording their trauma and pain; a way of remembering their struggle, even if the rest of America wants to conceal the reality of their history.

My Barbie Doll

My neighbor Elise had a big, blue plastic bin full of them--Barbie Dolls. A heap of naked, plastic bodies inter-tangled by long, blond, synthetic hair. While they all looked the same, there was always one doll I chose from the heap of conformity to play with. I knew her apart from the other dolls because part of her foot was chewed up--the result of an accidental encounter with Elise's dog. Moreover, instead of having the traditional blue eyes, this specific Barbie had greenish eyes encircled by long dark lashes which to me, seemed longer and more elegant than the painted lashes on the other dolls. Her long plastic, hard limbs were cold and uncomfortable to hold and her brittle, synthetic hair itched my skin. I identified with this Barbie because of her long blond hair. I envisioned myself growing up to have her golden locks. In terms of race, I am not sure whether or not I chose Barbie because she exhibited a skin color that was similar to my own. Recalling the heap of Barbie Dolls amassed in Elise's bin, there was no other choice but to pick a white Barbie with long blond hair. I don't remember ever playing with a Barbie that did not have these traits.
Looking back on it now, I thought this doll was beautiful; however, what I remember finding most beautiful about her was not her skin color (although perhaps this was subconsciously factored into my attraction to her), but it was her sleek, feminine body that I, even as a young 6 year old, longed to have. I wanted to have her long legs, perfectly rounded breasts, and small waist. Now that I am grown up, I no longer find real beauty in this blond bombshell, and I realize the superficiality of my childhood play-thing.

Metro News Article--In relation to Caucasia

Here is the actual link to the article, but I just copied and pasted it as well. I thought the article was interesting, and pertinent, to the story of Caucasia and the concept of race in terms physical indicators..and the problems with this


http://www.nydailynews.com/news/2007/03/22/2007-03-22_what_a_mess_baby-1.html

What a mess, baby

Parents say fertility clinic botched in-vitro & girl's got the wrong dad

Thursday, March 22nd 2007, 4:00 AM

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Thomas Andrews and his wife, Nancy, got a surprise when daughter Jessica (l.) was born: Looks like Thomas wasn't the dad.

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A Long Island woman and her husband are suing a Park Ave. fertility clinic for allegedly inseminating her with the wrong man's sperm.

After struggling to conceive their second child, Nancy Andrews and her husband, Thomas, turned to New York Medical Services for Reproductive Medicine for in-vitro fertilization treatments, according to a lawsuit.

Andrews soon became pregnant and the couple was overjoyed. They only discovered the clinic's "colossal blunder" after Andrews gave birth to her daughter Jessica, court papers charge.

"While we love Baby Jessica as our own, we are reminded of this terrible mistake each and every time we look at her," the Commack couple said in documents filed in Manhattan Supreme Court. "It is simply impossible to ignore."

Thomas Andrews is white and his wife is Dominican. But Jessica, who was born Oct. 19, 2004, has darker skin than either of them as well as "characteristics more typical of African or African-American descent," the lawsuit states.

The couple tested their daughter's DNA using a home kit and later with two more sophisticated methods. All three of the tests confirmed their suspicions - the tot has a different father.

"We underwent a difficult and complex medical procedure for the sole purpose of bearing a child of our own," the couple said in court papers. "We were never informed that this type of mishap could occur, and frankly, this type of mishap is almost unimaginable."

In legal documents, the couple said they were "emotionally devastated" when they found out Thomas Andrews, who had donated his sperm to be inseminated in his wife, was not the girl's biological father.

"We fear that our daughter will be the object of scorn and ridicule by other children, both in school and as she grows up," they said.

In a decision made public yesterday, State Supreme Court Justice Sheila Abdus-Salaam threw out parts of the couple's lawsuit - including a claim that they had suffered mental distress.

"The birth of an unwanted but otherwise healthy and normal child does not constitute an injury to the child's parents," Abdus-Salaam wrote.

But the judge allowed the malpractice lawsuit to proceed against New York Medical Services for Reproductive Medicine. A previous court ruling already had found the clinic's owner, Dr. Reginald Puckett, liable for inseminating Nancy Andrews with the wrong sperm, documents show.

The couple is seeking unspecified damages for the error.

Puckett's attorney did not return calls yesterday.

The Andrews, whose eldest daughter was born on Christmas Day in 2002, declined to comment through their attorney.

jmartinez@edit.nydailynews.com

The Jews in Sudbury

I am in my mom's "fire engine-red" volvo station wagon. We are driving back from church one cold, gray Sunday afternoon, and the aftertaste of water-diluted wine and dry wafers from Communion still lingers in my mouth. The streets are lined with dirt speckled snow and leafless trees that look like aged skeletons. I am in the backseat with my brother, who nods in and out of sleep, while my mom chirps away in the passenger seat to Ralph, her boyfriend at the time, who is driving the car. I feel irritated and restless because I am forced into such a confined environment with Ralph. I am even more irritated because I know Ralph is loving every minute of the car-ride, and as he drives slower and slower, I feel that he is mocking my anger. A feeling of deep detest begins to boil in my stomach.
"Drive faster Ralph!" I snapped, hoping that he might sense my dislike of him in the sharpness of my words. He chuckles, "Why are you in such a rush to get home Jennie Kate?" The sound of my name is enveloped by his southern twang, and I hate it. Besides, only my mom and dad call me Jennie Kate. Who does he think he is?
As we drive through town, my mom begins to point out the Christmas wreaths and Christmas lights--which are dim at the time since the sun has not completely set--which seem to bedeck almost every house we pass. Christmas decorations are my mothers passion, and the brightness and frivolity of such decorations seems to match her personality perfectly.
"Jennie Kate" my mother's soft voice echoed in the car. "Remember when you were a child and we use to drive around town during Christmas time and look at Christmas decorations? You used to love doing that!"
"Yes mom," I said in such a tone to suggest that I wasn't in the mood for nostalgia. I know my mom feels disappointed that I no longer share in her extreme affinity towards "the Christmas spirit". Then I receive an unexpected blow...
"You know, Christmas time in Sudbury is much different now than it use to be. It's because all of those Jews have moved into town". The boiling sensation in my stomach grows more powerful, and the focus of my anger automatically shifts from Ralph to my mother.
"What do you mean all the Jews have moved in?" I say this in such a way to make her realize how ignorant her statement sounds.
"Well its true Bunny." She employs this nick-name in a cutsie voice when she knows I am about to be upset, but this mocking only adds fuel to the fire. "I can't even say Merry Christmas anymore without offending someone". I am speechless at first, and to make matters worse, Ralph begins to chime in.
"You know, I agree with you Karla. Down South you never have to worry about all that. During the holiday's in South Carolina everywhere it's 'Merry Christmas' here and 'God Bless' there, and thats the way it should be". I cannot tell if I am angry with Ralph for saying such things, or more angry at my mother for dating someone who would think to say such things. Unable to resolve this confusion, I explode and begin to fling whatever insult I can at both my mother and Ralph.
"Ignorant...Biggot....Elitist...Racist.." I yell at both of them, and even though it pains me, I tell my mother that I am ashamed to be her daughter. I want more than anything to blame Ralph for it all, but I know that I can't.
While it is easy for some to excuse such statements with the assumption that "they can't help it, it was just a function of how they were raised", I cannot accept that, especially when it comes to my own mother. To me, such an excuse is very problematic and dangerous.

I love my mother, and it is because I love her that I want and need her to change these ideas.

My 10 Privilages

Along with the privileges Peggy McIntosh lists, here are a few more unearned privileges that my racial identity grants me:

1) If I excel in a specific subject in school, I can count on people attributing my success to hard work, and not assume that I was "naturally" good at it because of my race.
2) I don't have to worry about people assuming I got into Tufts because of affirmative action, and have them assume that I am somehow not as worthy (and I am saying this only because I know there are still people out there who think of affirmative action in such an ignorant way)
3) If I am ever on trial in court, I can count on the jury not to judge me based on my race and racial stereotypes.
4) I can read a storybook to a child, and the majority of the pictures will still reflect people who represent my race.
5) I can call myself "an American" without people questioning or asking me about my heritage or where I am "really" from.
6) I can easily find hair products that suit my hair type and style.
7) I can easily find makeup that matches my skin tone
8) I can count on people of my own race to be widely represented in the government
9) I don't have to go to a specific section in Barnes & Nobles (such as African American or Native American literature) to find books that will represent my own racial identity and experience
10) I can find a large variety of representations of my race in the Media, instead of my race being represented by a few, prescribed images and conflations