Merf. Thinking is Hard.

Jha can has random thoughtz about tapirs, kitties, comics, pretty people, social justice, things in general.

 

Posts tagged asian american

nezua:

zuky:

zuky:

This is Katherine Sui Fun Cheung (1904-2003), the first female Asian American aviator. She earned her pilot’s license in 1932, and became a barnstormer who performed acrobatic mid-air stunts at fairs and festivals. She was a member of Amelia Earhart’s prestigious international club of women aviators, the Ninety Nines Club. She was a friend of Anna May Wong, who more than once helped her raise money to buy planes. “I thought it’d be fun to fly so I did it,” she recalled many years later. “There’s no feeling like it in the world. Being up in the air, the wind blowing, the exhilaration…that’s my definition of joy. It’s complete freedom. You haven’t lived until you’ve truly felt that.”

nezua:

zuky:

zuky:

This is Katherine Sui Fun Cheung (1904-2003), the first female Asian American aviator. She earned her pilot’s license in 1932, and became a barnstormer who performed acrobatic mid-air stunts at fairs and festivals. She was a member of Amelia Earhart’s prestigious international club of women aviators, the Ninety Nines Club. She was a friend of Anna May Wong, who more than once helped her raise money to buy planes. “I thought it’d be fun to fly so I did it,” she recalled many years later. “There’s no feeling like it in the world. Being up in the air, the wind blowing, the exhilaration…that’s my definition of joy. It’s complete freedom. You haven’t lived until you’ve truly felt that.”

Twitterari AAPI listen up!

The inestimable @suey_park is hosting a discussion tomorrow morning (Dec 15) sometime around 10am CST for a discussion on Asian American feminism!! The hashtag is #NotYourAsianSidekick so COME ON!

18mr:

Guest post by Bao Phi.Photo by Anna S. Min.(Italicized words are lyrics taken from the libretto of Miss Saigon) 
Miss Saigon is a musical about Vietnamese women, who are all victims in need of rescue from the Third World. It is a musical about the inherent goodness of flawed white men. Vietnamese men are all abusive, sexist assholes who are so small they can’t even expand to fit into two dimensions. Also, mixed race orphans will have it better in America but that goes without saying. The play is also, supposedly, about the Vietnam War.
•••
I’m born in Saigon, just inside the Year of the Tiger. My dad is half Vietnamese, half Chinese. My mom is mostly Vietnamese, she’s pretty sure. Both lovers of poetry, they name me Thien-bao: treasure from heaven.
Three months later, bombs are falling from the sky as they shell the airport, trying to kill us. My mom and dad take turns holding me in the bomb shelter, as the world around us shook and exploded all night. I don’t learn this until years later, and it’s an odd thing to hear from your own family: we were almost killed before you had the ability to form memory.
•••
 “the heat is on in Saigon
the girls are hotter ‘n’ hell
one of these slits here will be Miss Saigon
God, the tension is high, not to mention the smell
the heat is on in Saigon
is there a war going on?
don’t ask, I ain’t gonna tell”

1975, my parents raise six kids and take care of my paternal grandfather in Phillips, South Minneapolis. Our house is two blocks from Little Earth housing projects. The neighborhood is densely populated with American Indians, a people who know about a great many things, including broken American promises. Many years later, as a teenager, I’ll march with American Indian activists in solidarity as they protest a visiting football team that, like Miss Saigon, claims to honor the people that they exploit. I’ll also read somewhere that Phillips is the largest, poorest, and most racially diverse neighborhood in the Twin Cities.
But when I was a little kid, I just knew it was rough. My earliest experience with multiculturalism is on the school bus: kids of all hues, from all over the world, call me chink.

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18mr:

Guest post by Bao Phi.
Photo by Anna S. Min.
(Italicized words are lyrics taken from the libretto of Miss Saigon) 

Miss Saigon is a musical about Vietnamese women, who are all victims in need of rescue from the Third World. It is a musical about the inherent goodness of flawed white men. Vietnamese men are all abusive, sexist assholes who are so small they can’t even expand to fit into two dimensions. Also, mixed race orphans will have it better in America but that goes without saying. The play is also, supposedly, about the Vietnam War.

•••

I’m born in Saigon, just inside the Year of the Tiger. My dad is half Vietnamese, half Chinese. My mom is mostly Vietnamese, she’s pretty sure. Both lovers of poetry, they name me Thien-bao: treasure from heaven.

Three months later, bombs are falling from the sky as they shell the airport, trying to kill us. My mom and dad take turns holding me in the bomb shelter, as the world around us shook and exploded all night. I don’t learn this until years later, and it’s an odd thing to hear from your own family: we were almost killed before you had the ability to form memory.

•••

 “the heat is on in Saigon

the girls are hotter ‘n’ hell

one of these slits here will be Miss Saigon

God, the tension is high, not to mention the smell

the heat is on in Saigon

is there a war going on?

don’t ask, I ain’t gonna tell”

1975, my parents raise six kids and take care of my paternal grandfather in Phillips, South Minneapolis. Our house is two blocks from Little Earth housing projects. The neighborhood is densely populated with American Indians, a people who know about a great many things, including broken American promises. Many years later, as a teenager, I’ll march with American Indian activists in solidarity as they protest a visiting football team that, like Miss Saigon, claims to honor the people that they exploit. I’ll also read somewhere that Phillips is the largest, poorest, and most racially diverse neighborhood in the Twin Cities.

But when I was a little kid, I just knew it was rough. My earliest experience with multiculturalism is on the school bus: kids of all hues, from all over the world, call me chink.

Read More

(via zuky)