For my readers:
The first thing I remember my parents teaching me about my
identity was, “I’m Japanese and Jewish.” I said it with pride, even before I
really understood what it means to live in a country organized by race and
racism, before I understood that leaving the house meant going into a world
that saw us as an aberration, or offensive, or at best, as “interesting.”
Out of my family and our communities, I learned multiple
languages. Not Japanese and English and Yiddish, but the various languages
spoken by specific people groups in the U.S. I codeswitch. I can move between
white churches, immigrant churches, long-standing churches of people of color,
social justice activists, and secular people.
The challenge of being multiracial is racism. I know I am
multiracial Asian American (and not white) because other people made it clear
that I am. Because of my racialized
experience (not my cultural experience), I chose to identify politically with
one racial heritage over another, instead of pretending that being multiracial
exempts me from racial justice work.
I have this great group of folks who, among others here, connected me with Asian American and Pacific Islander Presbyterians. I have always been Asian American. Having been grounded in the specificity of multiraciality and Japanese-ness, I had to learn how to speak to a broader Asian American Presbyterian experience.
Learning this did not come naturally. I have to do most of
the work of crossing over into the specific culture of Asian American
Presbyterianism, with its ethnic-specific caucuses. I am very familiar with
being raced, and racialized, so to interact with Asian Americans still
organized by ethnic groups is challenging for me, but I understand it is
necessary, because so many of us need places to worship that speak directly to
our own languages and experiences.
I am not monocultural, and honestly most of you aren’t,
either. Ethnic-specific caucuses make sense for people closer to the immigrant
generation, and less sense for me and others like me, a fourth-generation
multiracial person.
So what is God calling us toward?
God is calling us to know what it means to be an immigrant
church. Because immigration from the Asia/Pacific to North America is ongoing, we
are called to continue to be in ministry with first, 1.5, and second generation
Asian Americans. Transnationalism is here to stay, as is the necessity for
immigrant spaces, home for those who are making new homes.
In a country increasingly hostile to non-white immigrants, we
are called to be political. We are called to advocate for language rights in
mid-council and general assembly meetings. We are called to continue to work
for just immigration policies. We are called to continue to work to end laws
unfairly targeting and criminalizing immigrants.
Now that there are seventh and eighth generation Asian
American Christians, God is calling us to get real. My motherland isn’t Japan
or Poland or Ukraine or Russia or Lithuania and it certainly isn’t Israel. I
don’t “go back” to anywhere. I am not “exotic.” My motherland is California.
We as Asian Americans have a wealth of history and culture
based here in the U.S., enough to ground us as our own people. We have
activists and pastors and theologians and artists and musicians to help us
express our own Christian faith. Identifying with a racial category such as
“Asian American” isn’t the loss of unique cultural markers, but the gain of a
heritage.
This is my youngest niece, Leena. She is Libyan, Chinese, Irish,
white Jewish, and Japanese. Unlike me, she will likely not identify with one
racial or ethnic heritage over another. We don’t know if she will think of
herself as white, or Asian American, or Arab American.
Asian Americans have high rates of marriage outside our own
ethnic and racial groups, and we as Asian American Presbyterians are called to
be both/and. We are both Asian American and multiracial. We can minister with
immigrant Asian Americans AND those multiracial people who are our children and
grandchildren.
These are my friends Stella and Aaron, six-year-old twins.
They are Presbyterians who are Korean, African American, and white. They will
likely never attend an Asian American Presbyterian church. They have another
language and worldview.
We will need to understand that being Asian American means
including multiracial people who will not necessarily identify with one racial
group over another. We in the U.S. are accustomed to thinking in binaries –
black/white, citizen/foreigner, man/woman, straight/gay, Christian/not
Christian. Our racial and ethnic caucuses in the PC(USA) expect people to
identify with one identity, but multiracial people increasingly do not and will
not think this way. The struggle for racial justice is wrapped up with women’s
liberation, equal rights for gays and lesbians, rights for religious
minorities, and equal access for people who speak languages other than English.
This binary causes us to get trapped into thinking that men are the real or ideal pastors. Asian American church communities are bleeding women pastors to majority-white communities. The Asian American church needs to come to terms with the causes for this (patriarchy, Confucianism, colonial missionary imposition), and find a way to faithfully nurture women’s AND men’s leadership.
Leena, Stella, Aaron, and other kids are growing up
believing that gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people are equally made
in the image of God, and should be our theological and social equals. This may
be controversial or dangerous to speak of here, but the church we are becoming
is less concerned with policing sexual and gender orientation and more
concerned with embodying God’s love to all people.
We cannot sit on the sidelines and let white conservatives
and white liberals use us as their arguments over maintaining the definition of
marriage as between one man and one women, or changing the definition of
marriage. Instead of being pulled by the agenda and interests of the
dominant-culture church, we have a chance, now, to find ways to participate in
the larger church out of the strength of our own beliefs and communities.
This table at which we feast is changing. I have eaten
Chinese food all over the world, except in China. Chinese food in Puerto Rico integrates tostones (green plantains
fried with garlic). There is no one way to cook Chinese food, because food
reflects the reality of each context.
The feast has to change… not to abandon where it comes from,
but to adapt to meet the changing tastes of succeeding generations. Maybe it
means combining spam, sushi rice, and nori. Maybe it means that we have the
hard conversations here and now in order to become the Asian American
Presbyterians we are called to be.
(I'd like to thank the following folks for photos: Diakonda Gurning, Irene Pak, Mary Paik, David Cheifetz and Mina, David Barnhart, Elsie Barnhart, and Jeffrey Cheifetz.)
Brilliant!
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