By Eileen Tse

The crime-fighting Sailor Moon. Photo: Flickr

Aside from the yellow Power Ranger (RIP Thuy Trang), Sailor Moon was probably your first exposure to an Asian face in mass popular culture, even though we were probably too young to realize that Sailor Moon was a Japanese property imported over and dubbed for an American audience.

By E. J. Bies, guest writer

Diversity’s back in the limelight, and it’s getting more than 15 minutes of fame. Recent events, notably the Increase Diversity Bake Sale held at UC Berkeley’s Sproul Plaza in September, have stoked discourse to a blaze. The Berkeley College Republicans, whose members sought to expose the “unconstitutional” aim of one Senate Bill 185, sold cupcakes to ethnic minorities for a discounted price, whereas white males were charged a premium (two bucks) for a baked treat.

What might have been insensitive — or just rude — has, however, called for significant discussion. The bill — which would enact an affirmative action policy, allowing UC’s and CSU’s to consider “race, gender, ethnicity,” and so on — doesn’t only demand we ponder the constitutionality of giving preference to applicants based on their ethnicity, but whether diversity’s really all it’s cracked up to be.

Diversity’s supporters claim that the chief benefit of a diversified student body — one that more or less satisfies a baseline number, or “critical mass,” of minority students — is an enriched college experience. What better way to learn, if not in the classroom, than connecting with students from all different backgrounds? Many times, indeed, college is the venue wherein young men and women first become exposed to harshly contrasting forms of worldview, religion, language, food — the list goes on. These eye-opening experiences — which are what college is “all about” — make for more well-rounded students. And it’s certainly important to escape that ingrained “small town” insularity. Think of it as a necessary rite of passage, into adulthood, or maturity.

Now, go to the other end of the spectrum: you’ll get thumped by statistics, recent studies. But, as is expected, the studies have a lot to say. Prominently, in 1999, one Stanley Rothman headed a new project at Smith College. With just two other men under his wings, Rothman impressively surveyed a combined 4,000 students and faculty members from 140 colleges nationwide. Participants answered benign questions questions (like: “How do you rate the quality of education you receive?”), and the answers were then evaluated under a relevant context: the proportion of minority students enrolled at each school. If diversity’s proponents were correct in their assumptions, the schools with higher minority percentages would report higher rates of cultural acceptance among their students and faculty, more positive evaluations of the educational conditions, etc. Shockingly enough, Rothman results were exactly the contrary. Not only were the diversified schools increasingly eager to complain about discrimination, their students held lower estimations for both the quality of education they received and the perceived work ethic of their colleagues. Rothman said it loud: diversity does more harm than good.

Things became even more interesting when Rothman looked into how a concentrated enrollment of a particular minority affected the survey results. Hispanic students remained fairly neutral a factor, whereas — appealing to the stereotype — schools that saw higher rates of Asian enrollment reported greater student quality. Faculty members generally perceived their students as performing at a higher caliber.

I’m stuck (and it’s okay!). As with most normative issues, it’s difficult to arrive at a stance that seems overwhelmingly “right.” Studies here, studies there — it might seem logical to dissuade, or even disallow, colleges from the use of affirmative action. Constitutional or not, we’ve seen that diversification might not even be effective. But, while the statistics don’t lie — for those 140 colleges, at least — people aren’t afraid to stand up to numbers, normal distributions, et al. . . . So I’ll say it: Let’s never forget to make the distinction between what’s effective and what’s upright.

E. J. Bies is currently a technical writing intern at Versatile College Consulting.

The bushes in the distance mark where the internment camp's barracks once stood. Photo by Anne Su.

By Anne Su

I remember the first thing I, and perhaps everyone else, noticed was the beauty of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Unforgettable were the scorching sun and endless logging of desert bushes. But most importantly was my experience and friends I met on the Alternative Spring Break Manzanar trip. During my spring break in freshman year, I decided to sign up for the ASB Manzanar trip to expand my knowledge of Japanese American history in the United States and their people’s struggle for civil liberties. Although I had some knowledge of Japanese culture, seeing it through the American lens was a whole new experience.

Out of our diverse group of nine people, there were undergraduates at different points in their education as well as two doctoral students; all of us were in different majors. Not to mention Sumi Pendakur, our enthusiastic leader who has more energy and laughter than anyone can imagine. Sumi, the director of Asian Pacific American Student Services at USC, has led the ASB Manzanar trip for six years in a row. With all of us divided into two automobiles, we embarked on our road trip up north to Manzanar.

Park Ranger Ted at the Manzanar National Historic Site led us to the men and women’s latrines where we were shocked by how little privacy they were alotted. Our tour continued as we walked to the ponds and elaborate gardens built by the internees. For our final stop, we arrived at the cemetery to see the gravestones of the fifteen internees who died out of the 150 at the relocation center. The cemetery was purposefully built outside of the barbed wires to symbolize how Japanese American could only obtain freedom from the internment camp in death.

To make their lives at the camp as typical as when they lived in a neighborhood, the internees hosted garden decorating contest to determine whose gardening skills and aesthetic were better. Their self-sufficient lifestyles could be seen in the orchards of growing apples and other fruits and the farms where they raised cattle and chickens.

However, I was saddened as we went deeper into the history and learned of the internal tension and conflicts caused between the Japanese American internees in their suppressed frustration and conflicting views on cooperation with the American government. On December 6, 1942, the Manzanar riot broke out between two groups of Japanese Americans who believed that one group was “selling out” the Japanese Americans to the U.S. government.

On the second day we met our friendly competitors, students from Colorado State University. Because of our coinciding dates of service learning at the camp, Park Ranger Ted gave us a tour of the camp and arranged the film screening of “Snow Falling on Cedars” to further inform us of the deep impact and scars left on the hearts of the Japanese Americans.

The next two days were dedicated to removing bushes that swamped the camp site. We alternated between two jobs: digging up the bushes and collecting and dumping them in large piles. The National Park plans to rebuild on the site a model house, fitted for greater comfort and privacy, where the administrative officials of the camp will live. The auto tour route will also be extended since it’s not exactly comfortable standing under the sun with 40 mph winds gusting at your face. Our speedy efforts allowed us to completely clear the road on 1^st Street between A Street and B Street.

The Japanese internment camp at Manzanar was established in 1942, where a little more than 10,000 Japanese Americans from the West Coast were housed after the Pearl Harbor incident. Although the camp closed in November of 1945, many families were uncertain of where to go and how to start their lives again in the real world. And in the end, none of the 120,000 internees were charged with espionage.

This trip was a reminder for me and others of the present situation in the U.S. as extensive fears of Muslims and Middle-Easterners after 9/11 has translated into animosity and suspicion. Will the U.S. government learn from its past mistake? I sincerely hope for prudence in future U.S. governmental actions considering how unwilling it was to consider the deep scars unfairly left on the Japanese Americans.

By Chloe Wang

It is noted that countries like China, Japan, India, and Korea — countries that have limited resources for their people — have  “crueler” education systems. It is hard to imagine but could be true that maybe in the near future, as populations expand, the whole world’s education system could become more selective.

And that means mothers, leaders of their children’s education, could become more “Chinese” as described by Amy Chua in “Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior.”

China, as one of the most over-populated countries in the world, along with all the other Asian countries, is known for its competitive education system. In China, it is commonly believed that without a bachelor’s degree from a key university, one cannot find a desirable job. And it’s becoming more apparent that nowadays, without a master’s degree, it is somewhat hard to earn a desirable life. In order for younger generations of Chinese to have a nice life, Chinese mothers, who are mainly in charge of their children’s education, must be strict with their children.

Starting from the age of three or even younger, Chinese babies are put into a youth educational center for bilingual study. Chinese mothers believe that for the child to win in the long run, it is essential for him or her to start early. This ideology starts a vicious cycle: the more mothers want to give their children a head start, the earlier the children are going to all kinds of preschool educational centers.

Chinese mothers also believe that it is not enough to study well. It is also key to have an interest. But Chinese children have no right to choose their hobbies – they are predestined for them. Some mothers believe that violin has an effect on a child’s patience. Thus, whether the child likes it or not, playing violin will become this child’s hobby.

Some believe girls should have a nice figure; many of them end up dancing ballet.

That is not to say that Chinese mothers don’t have good intentions, because they do. They simply don’t believe that their children are wise enough to make good decisions themselves. And often, since the predetermined interest is begun so early, it becomes what he or she is good at and defines the child.

It could be that Chinese ancestors passed on this ideology of choosing children’s destiny for them. But there are still examples of children who veered from their track even in ancient times. Instead of becoming government officials, some quit their jobs and lived happy lives on farms, such as Yuanming Tao and the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove.

It is still safe to say that education is valued more nowadays than in ancient times. This statement is true in almost all countries. With the rise of population, it is harder to distinguish one student from another Even in America, graduating with a community college degree often can’t offer a person a job that pays above minimum wage.

In 1960’s China, it was considered extremely lucky for a person to get a bachelor’s degree. The increase in demand for education indicates that the competition is getting more severe. Even in America, the term “helicopter parenting” is becoming more common.

As the world population continues to grow, education increases in demand, and parents feel the pressure to raise worthy children, it could be that one day, the entire world’s mothers are going to be “superior” like Chua’s Tiger Mother.

By Nimisha Thakore

Bollywood actress Aishwarya Rai Bachchan on the December cover of Elle India, looking noticeably paler.

In December, Bollywood actress and former Miss World Aishwarya Rai Bachchan graced the latest cover of  Elle India with a noticeably paler complexion.

Bachchan might sue the magazine if there’s any proof of digital lightening, according to the Times of India.

The Times reported a source close to her describing her frustration:

“Aishwarya’s first reaction was disbelief.  She believed that these things don’t happen anymore. Not in this day and age when women are recognized for their merit, and not for the colour of their skin. She is currently verifying this skin-whitening allegation. If there is any proof of this, she might even take action.”

This isn’t the first time Elle has found itself in hot water because someone in the editing bay did a little over-clicking in Photoshop. American Elle came under fire in September for allegedly lightening cover girl Gabourey Sidibe’s skin.

At the time, editor-in-chief Robbie Meyers denied any tampering in an interview with E! News.

“At a photo shoot, in a studio, that is a fashion shoot, that’s glamorous, the lighting is different. The photography is different than a red carpet shot from a paparazzi,” she said.

Optimistically, that very well could be true. Sidibe’s magically “lightened” skin looks like it could potentially be the results of overworked makeup and glaring studio lighting. Maybe that’s the case for Ash, too, although one glance at the Elle India cover and you’d never know an Indian woman was gracing it.

But there are, of course, greater issues here besides Elle’s alleged over-editing.

There’s the issue of why Bachchan has made it so big in the first place. Take a look at any famous Bollywood actress and you’ll notice a common feature: they are all of them significantly paler than the average Indian woman.

The skin-lightening industry continues to boom and expand in India, but the phenomenon appears to know no bounds. A recent study found 90 percent of women entering clinics in Arizona for mercury poisoning were Chicanas using skin-lightening products, according to Colorlines.

It seems some of us colored women (and men) are dying to be white – literally.

Perhaps it’s a slight controversy and one that to many might seem unworthy of outrage. Maybe it’s easy for naturally light-skinned Indians like Bachchan (and, admittedly, myself) to complain about skin-lightening controversies and products like Fair & Lovely.

But a preference for lighter skin is undoubtedly and unnecessarily prominent in so many cultures that “little” things like this do, in fact, matter. The deeper, culturally and socially ingrained issues here can only be fought by bringing down an industry that for some inexplicable reason continues to thrive.

By Rebecca Gao

The diversity within the Asian American community begs to avoid homogenization with an umbrella label like "Asian" or "Asian American."

Asian American – what a broad, encompassing term for us. What does it even mean to be “Asian American” anymore in a hyper-localizing, globalizing world?

In 1968, UC Berkeley student activists began referring to themselves as “Asian American” as a backlash against the more degrading term “oriental.” Three on-campus anti-war leagues – the Chinese American Citizens Alliance, the Japanese American Citizens League, and the Philippine American Collegiate Endeavor – joined forces into a conglomerate christened the Asian American Political Alliance.

A few months later, UCLA professor and historian Yuji Ichioka officially coined the term “Asian American” to promote solidarity among the various dislocated minority groups, from Koreans to Chinese to Indian.

While the consolidation of Asian American interest groups may allow for greater lobbying power, it fails to appreciate the incredible diversity within the community. The label may be able to unify us, but it also homogenizes us. A Sri Lankan citizen has a vastly different culture and heritage than a Vietnamese American but would be encapsulated under the umbrella moniker of “Asian American.”

Just as the French and the Germans are distinctive peoples not to be clumped together strictly as Europeans, Asian Americans are too widely distributed for any one label to stick.

In fact, a single catch-all name distorts the view of Asians by non-Asians. While we within the Asian American community might clearly understand the disparity between Thai and Taiwanese, others might not. With one overarching term, we fail to communicate our unique cultures, almost encouraging one-size-fits-all stereotypes on people who trace from the largest, heaviest populated, and arguably the most varied of all continents.

Just the sheer land range of what constitutes Asia is mind-boggling. Imagine if we called everyone in North and South America “Americans,” be they Canadians or Columbians, and the rest of the world assumed that every American was identical with a few minor difference – some just paler or browner than others.

After all, Americans kind of look the same, you know?

Granted, distributing ourselves into smaller, more distinct groups might foster mini-communities less tolerant of the qualities we have in common that a term “Asian American” might allow. However, they help us recognize the individual histories, traditions, and distinctions which lend each group its own flair.

For example, at USC, we have the Chinese Student Association, the Vietnamese Student Association, Nikkei, and many more cultural groups under the broad sweep of the Asian Pacific American Student Assembly. Traverse Japan Town on a sushi tasting tour with Nikkei, attend a luau with the Hawaii Club, or a beach retreat with HapaSC if you identify with many ethnicities.

We represent an astonishingly diverse community and should embrace both the similarities and differences within the various Asian American ethnicities. With an ever-growing population of Asian Americans, it is simply against our interests to be dusted neatly together into a pile under a single label and to be left there without a deeper understanding of ourselves.

By Nimisha Thakore

It’s 3 o’clock on Christmas Eve.

There are no presents under our tree, which I put up with the help of a friend just days ago. My stocking has two books in it: Mrs. Dalloway and Heart of Darkness, both of which I bought for myself at Half Price Books last week. My older sister’s stocking has only a copy of Bamboo Offshoot in it, which I generously provided her out of the goodness of my heart.

It’s quiet and drizzling outside. The barren fig tree in our backyard is dripping raindrops that can’t hug its slippery naked branches anymore (which is better, I think, than its summertime spider infestation).

The suburban streets of Flower Mound, Texas, are slick with a rain that keeps leaking from a dreary gray sky.

This is no white Christmas, and it’s happening in a Hindu household, to an Indian American family. Slightly less than conventional.

It’s certainly not a religious holiday for us, nor is it much of a cultural one for my parents, who were born and raised in India. We won’t go to church. We don’t have any out-of-town family over. We won’t, at any point, slice into a holiday ham.

But tonight, we’ll go to a family friend’s party, where we will undoubtedly consume a ridiculous amount of assorted foods – Indian, Mexican, Greek, who knows? Tomorrow, in following with our Christmas tradition, we’ll see a movie together (this year, I’m thinking it will be “Little Fockers”). We’ll likely wrap up the day with an overly spiced vegetarian Indian meal.

Unusual circumstances? Maybe, I’m not entirely sure. But It’s still Christmas!

It must be the American in my Indian Americanness, but I absolutely adore the holiday. I decorate and insist that my dad put up lights. I make mulled wine and spike the eggnog.  I love gift-giving. Growing up, I sometimes missed having a traditional Christmas. I often wished we’d bought a real Christmas tree, or that we’d open one present on Christmas Eve, or that our entire extended family made the trek to Texas, or that we had a big Christmas feast, just like I saw in the movies.

But for every “traditional” Christmas I missed out on, I instead celebrated countless Hindu holidays: Diwali, Janmashtami, Holi, Navratri. I don’t feel jipped at all. In fact, I feel very, very lucky to have two rich cultures make up who I am. It was a challenging balancing act for me growing up, trying to find a compromise between two essentially black and white cultures. Yet I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now that I’m older, I realize all I care about is being with family and friends during the holidays. It’s not the presents or the feasts or whatever else I may have thought was the “right” thing to do at Christmas. I realize also that so many other families like mine don’t have a stereotypically traditional holiday.

Perhaps ours is a slightly unconventional Christmas, a mash-up of things Indian and American, but we are celebrating it together in a way that works for us.

And in that spirit – before I duck out to get to this Christmas party, where a houseful of Indian people will spend the night yelling at each other (it’s how we hold conversations), and where the parents might at some point in the evening begin playing Bollywood karaoke – I wish you all a very merry Christmas.

Photos by Anne Su
Writing by Nimisha Thakore

Little Tokyo is in our backyard.

The historical Japantown — one of only three Japantowns in the country — is no more than a few minutes’ drive down Figueroa Boulevard, or a 25 cent DASH ride. The quaint area is home to an abundance of enticing restaurants, so much so that USC alums Jeff Okita and Alex Tao started their food tour venture, Six Taste, right in the Japanese village. But there are also monuments and statues dedicated to Japanese American and Japanese heroes like Chiune Sugihara; the Japanese American National Museum; Japanese gardens; and shopping galore.

Little Tokyo became a National Historic Landmark District in 1995. The area is a cultural and historical gem, but it is very easy to take for granted because of its unremarkable proximity to south-central (aka home for all us USC students).

Bamboo writer and photographer Anne Su set out with a camera to capture the expected and not-so-expected scenes of Los Angeles’ Little Tokyo so we can take a moment to appreciate its value.

By Vivian Yan

An English-learning magazine in Germany. The popularity of learning English is increasingly global. Photo: Flickr.

My parents used to send me to Chinese school in the summer with the vain hope that I might learn to speak or read Mandarin.

I didn’t learn either, because when you’re 10 years old you don’t care about speaking a language no one else at school speaks. All you want to do is watch Pokémon, play handball with friends or watch “Monsters, Inc.” – all of it in English.

The funny thing is a lot of parents now want their kids to do what my parents didn’t: speak more English.

Western schools are expanding globally as more parents in Asia want their children to grow up with a strong foundation in English. Perhaps one of the most dramatic examples is the Jeju Global Education City in South Korea, slotted for completion in 2015. The self-contained community will house 12 Western schools on a 940-acre plot of land that will operate solely in English.

Asian governments are encouraging construction of these internationally-focused schools. Their goals include boosting Western investment in their respective nations and educating their youth in the core international language of business and commerce.

But is it a good idea to create such an environment? Is the trend toward Western schools a positive one? In some sense, yes: foreign investment bolsters a nation’s economy, and anyone who’s ever written a résumé knows how cool it is to say you’re multilingual. Furthermore, bringing English-speaking schools closer to home means families don’t have to split between moving to a Western nation and staying in their home country. Relationships aren’t strained by time and distance.

Yet at the same time, completely enveloping a child in a new language can be damaging in many respects. For one, a language learned as a child can be easily lost. My siblings and I grew up speaking Cantonese but dropped the language almost completely upon starting grade school. By sending their children to English-only schools and supporting the creation of English-only cities, Asian families risk the loss of their native languages and the cultural understandings those languages convey.

For example, teaching in English could mean that many children are unlikely to learn the terms of different subjects in their own language. Such a handicap could be especially detrimental when studying history or literature: Western schools are likely to focus on Western history or writers with Western ideas and Western terminology. Language differences could further result in trouble cross-communicating. As a Chinese American living in California, I learned about Mao Zedong – but say his name in Chinese and I’ll have no clue who you’re talking about.

The loss of language is especially detrimental to culture. Any ethnicity has its own idioms or way of thought based on its respective way of life, but by distancing kids from their language, parents pull them away from their cultural heritage. Asian parents may further imply to their children that their culture and language is somehow inferior to English because of an emphasis on learning English over, say, Korean.

The loss of their native tongue could also lead to massive generational gaps. My inability to speak Cantonese leaves me unable to communicate with my grandparents beyond phrases like “thank you” and “I’m hungry.” I will never understand stories they might tell about my ancestors because of this language barrier, meaning that I cannot learn my own family’s history from a direct source. A devastating realization for a history major!

Rather than focus on complete English immersion, Asian countries should aim for moderation. It is highly beneficial for students to learn English, but it is just as crucial for them to learn and honor their native language. It took me 3 years to learn how to write my name in Chinese and many more years before I recognized the significance of my own language and culture. When it comes to teaching their own children the value of their heritage, Asian families should not waste even half as much time.