Letter 22: Othering
When we empathize for another
Happy end of September, readers. I love the fall season and am often reminded of a favorite You’ve Got Mail quote, which seems fitting for these letters, where we share our stories: “I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.” I’m honored to share Nadine Rosendin’s story with you here today.
I was fortunate to get Nadine as a part of a package deal. Her husband Bill and I taught for many years together and he and I developed a deep friendship that I cherish daily. Rarely have I ever seen two partners fit together as well as Nadine and Bill; and because of this, they’ve been a tremendous example of a healthy marriage for my husband and me. Nadine is a deep, old soul who makes the people around her feel special, listened to, and cherished. You probably know people like Nadine: When she speaks, others quiet and listen immediately. A patient mother, gleeful grandmother, Seahawk devotee, and kick-ass dragon boat racer, Nadine is quite busy but also remains one of the calmest humans I know. I asked her to contribute in this space because every time she shares her stories with me, I learn something new about myself and our world. And I could imagine nothing better than that for each of you, as well.
“The uniquely Asian experience [is] living at the intersection of racist vilification and the stereotype of the model minority.”
Ibram X. Kendi
As a bi-racial person there are pointed questions that I’ve come to expect in my life:
What are you?
Where are you from?
What nationality are you?
Even as a young girl, I always found these questions odd. Didn’t nationality pertain to the country in which one was born? Was that in question? Why would someone ask me what I am? Don’t I look human?
As I got older, I understood the meaning behind the majority of the questions and tried to assume good intentions. As I entered my pre-teen years, however, I started making somewhat racially insensitive jokes about myself, probably in an attempt to beat others to anticipated thoughtless comments. Occasionally, this would trigger, “You don’t look Japanese,” followed by pulling their eyes and a rhyme that included dirty knees.
I would awkwardly pretend to laugh along, feeling less included than ever. But then being raised surrounded by two cultures, I’ve found that I’m in continual cultural conflict: I’m not Japanese enough to feel a part of the Asian group, and I’m too Japanese to be included in the white group. While I undeniably benefit from a certain amount of privilege because of this racial ambiguity, that also causes an internal struggle every time that privilege is realized and internal angst every time that privilege is denied.
Not long after my mom passed away, when I was 45 years old, I found one of her journals in which she wrote about me, in the first grade, crying after school because some boys called me a “Jap” and “slant eyes.”
According to her journal, Mom took me to the beach and explained that everyone looks different and not everyone is used to seeing people who look different from them. I don’t remember this walk on the beach, perhaps because my mother did such a good job at the time of making me feel comfortable in my own skin.
I do remember the stories of my parents’ struggles, however. My white father and Japanese mother, who in the early 50s could not find a place to live in Western Washington state. My father, approaching the landlord by himself, would disclose that he had a Japanese wife. Most turned him away with unkind words. The ones that didn’t, became very dear friends, after whom I would eventually be named.
There were many struggles like these for my parents and so many others like them, especially since interracial marriage was not yet fully legal in the United States until 1967, which was after I was born. Not only that, but thousands of Japanese Americans had relatively recently been imprisoned in 1942 for years under Executive Order 9066. The full impacts of these actions would never really be known.
This is my own tapestry, and I understand that it could sound unusual to those of you who have never experienced exclusion from seemingly commonplace issues, but there are some things that have been longtime irritants to me and I’m sure many other people of color.
From the minute I started using cosmetics (at age 13) or wearing those godforsaken things called pantyhose, I could tell that calling something “nude” was biased. With all the ways to describe color and marketers choose to call a color nude? I could personally see that nude didn’t apply to at least a third of the girls in my own school, so what about women in Africa? Latin America? Asia? C’mon, people!
Just yesterday I was sitting in an airport in Los Angeles, California, and saw a woman with adhesive bandages on her feet presumably to prevent blisters. She was a white woman and they matched her skin perfectly. It made me think of my black and brown-skinned family and friends and wondered why it took these companies so long to make these bandages in different shades.
Did you realize that many Asians and Africans have little to no nose bridge and that most glasses are made to fit a Caucasian face? Trust me: when you don’t have a nose bridge, it’s an issue! Add high cheekbones and eyes with a Mongolian fold and finding cute glasses to fit is a lesson in patience and hemorrhaging money. I’d love to wear those cheap sunglasses they hand out at events without the lenses literally sitting on my cheeks or the whites of my eyes. Funny? Yep! But another example of how something as seemingly mundane as glasses can actually be made more difficult for a significant portion of the population.
Perhaps if people feel that making these observations seem overdone, could it be that they’ve never been affected?
What if you were part of a group that made up 25% of the population, and you were told you were being overly-sensitive? Is that still trying to be politically correct or is it simply attempting to adjust language, and moreover conditions, so that all people are heard, represented, clothed, accounted for, etc.?
In elementary school, I was confused when I got to the demographics section of the annual standardized test. As I got older, demographic sections just made me mad. In the same way as attempting to answer the question, “What are you?” I found myself wondering how I was supposed to check one box when I clearly could not. Some may suggest choosing the ethnicity I identify most closely to, and to that I say, I’m more than just one ethnicity. Others might suggest I check the “Other” box, and then I flashback to being asked, “What are you?”
I’m a lot of things, but “Other” isn’t one.
While demographics and having complaints about cosmetics or bandages or free sunglasses may seem insignificant, sometimes that’s just the simpler way to talk about the more complicated issue of being “Other.”
Excluded. Marginalized.
And when you’re not the person who is othered, it’s difficult for those of us who are to hear you say we need to stop being so sensitive or politically correct.
So, here’s my help needed: The next time you catch yourself thinking that someone else is being too sensitive or politically correct, honestly consider if the issue is something that you have personally experienced. If the answer is no, then try to understand why that may be a sensitive issue for them, or better yet: ask. I’d love to hear any examples you may have tried or plan to try.
***Fittingly, this past Sunday The New York Times published several personal narratives in “How It Feels to Be Asian in Today’s America,” which serves as an excellent companion to today’s letter.***
Nadine’s Five Favorite Things
Market Optical at Seattle’s historic Pike Place Market for fun, unique, and yes, glasses for those of us with no bridge! Save your pennies, this is not an inexpensive venture. Side note: see Turner. He is a magician finding the right style for your face.
I’m cheating a little by counting these podcasts as one favorite: Code Switch (from NPR, fearless conversations about race), Revisionist History (Malcolm Gladwell looks at moments in history from a new perspective), and Unlocking Us with Brené Brown (self-help, candid conversations about life’s challenges).
My favorite team sport to participate in is dragon boat racing. Dragon boat paddling is fantastic exercise, is highly technical, and requires an incredible amount of teamwork. The most beautiful part about dragon boat paddling is anyone can do it. If you live in the South King County area of Washington state you can find our team at Kent Dragon Boat Association or search your local area for a team near you!
glassybaby votives are a luxury that make me happy. I’m an OG collector of this Seattle-based company that donates $3 from the sale of every glassybaby to a non-profit.
I scream, you scream; I’m always screaming for ice cream. I love ice cream so much that trying to pick a favorite is like asking a parent to choose a favorite child. I’ll just whisper that I have an affinity for something along the lines of Ben & Jerry’s Triple Caramel Chunk.
With gratitude,
Nadine Rosendin
P.S. We’d love to hear about resources that you’ve found helpful for navigating sensitive situations similar to what Nadine has described. Podcast? Book? Article? Technique for being a better listener? Share your ideas below!
This made me tear up! Thank you for sharing your story, Nadine. A well-written, thought-provoking, wonderful read.
LOVED reading this! Can't believe I've never asked you about your experiences before. I have to say that I never considered you "other" in any sort of way and maybe that's why I never imagined you had these racist experiences. Thanks for enlightening me to your particular experience. I feel like the conversation is just beginning! Love you and blessed to call you a life-long friend!