Living biracially
Two cultural backgrounds,
potential dilemma
By Paul Kusuda
|
"Having a White mother and a Japanese father produced a slightly awkward and sometimes frustrating experience
during my childhood. Because my dark features clashed with my mother's blond hair and green eyes, many assumed I
was adopted when we were together ."
So wrote Justine Kondo in an article in the Holiday issue of the Pacific Citizen, the bimonthly newspaper for the
Japanese American Citizens League, a nationwide civil rights advocacy organization. She is a sophomore at Eastern
Washington University and lives with her family in Spokane, Washington. The article caught my attention because of a
personal interest in issues involving race relations.
Justine mentioned feeling strange from time to time within her two extended families, especially when she was asked
which parent she resembled most. That's the kind of dumb question some well-meaning people, even relatives, ask.
What kind of answer can be made without appearing insulted or anxious or confused? Is an answer always needed? Is
any kind of an answer important to the person who asked the question or to the respondent?
As a person who is not biracial but bicultural, can I feel for, comprehend, or truly understand what it means to be
biracial? The answer is "No. I may know some of the feelings, but I know I can't." And yet, it's a concern. All five of our
grandchildren are biracial. My wife and I don't live with them, so we're not around when they might have some questions
they might want to ask.
Though bicultural, I grew up when the sociological phenomenon of the day was "assimilation" or "be like the major
population -- that is White." Of course, everyone aspired also to be "middle class." My parents, like many others who
emigrated from Japan, wanted their children to succeed in America. That meant they wanted their children to be
proficient in English and take maximum advantage of public education and later continue their post-secondary
academic/vocational education. Both my parents spoke English, my father more ably than my mother. They both wanted
their children to be able to converse at an early age in both Japanese and English. Therefore, we spoke English,
Japanese, and a mixture at home.
As time went on, my use of Japanese dropped off drastically. I went to a Japanese language school (at my parents'
insistence) only through the third year. I did that twice, the second time when I was in the seventh grade (junior high
school) in Los Angeles. So, my proficiency in Japanese was, and still is, less than elementary, even though my
pronunciation of the few words I know is very good, so I've been told. Despite proficiency in English, I've been well aware
of being bicultural since my face is obviously Asian. I've not been terribly bothered, but I've experienced many instances
of racial discrimination and overt hatred.
My first exposure came at a very young age. I was returning home from kindergarten, a distance of about a quarter of a
mile in downtown L.A. It was lunchtime. Across the street from me, two workmen were sitting outside the building where
they worked and eating their sandwiches and drinking pop (we called it soda in L.A.). They yelled out at me, "Where are
you going, Jap?" I knew that was an epithet; I felt threatened, but at the same time I was glad they remained where they
were. So, early on, I knew I was different.
Our three children, each of whom went through public schools in Madison and graduated from La Follette High School,
experienced varying degrees of race discrimination. They knew they were Japanese Americans. They worked through
their feelings of being different from Whites or others. They survived, and they each married non-Asians. Their families
are coming along nicely. We hope our grandchildren will continue to adjust to being different from many or most of their
friends. But, occasionally, I wonder whether they experience any personal confusion relating to racial identity. / When I
was employed by the Wisconsin Division for Children and Youth, I participated in interstate social work planning groups
that met to discuss and plan for possible issues that would be faced by non-White children placed in foster boarding
homes or placed for adoption.
In Wisconsin, the usual practice, as was true in most other states, was to place children so that their best interests
would be met. Children whose natural parents were of a specific religious belief were placed in homes with the same
belief: Protestant with Protestant, Catholic with Catholic, and so on. Asian or part-Asian children were placed with Asian
couples; African-American or part African-American, with African-American couples. Adopting couples had to be under
age 40, and in exceptional situations no older than 45.
We discussed how the so-called adoption-matching process too often led to late- or non-placement. That was the
primary concern. Extended discussion resulted in acceptance of transracial adoptive placements. Many
African-American social workers objected because they believed that cultural heritage would be lost when Black children
were placed in homes with White parents. My concerns included, "How might children be helped to understand and
accept themselves as they grew up with parents of different color? Would they develop identity problems? How might the
new parents help? How might social workers help the parents? Should adoptive placement social workers try to help
adoptive parents develop or improve sensitivity/understanding of the transracial placement?"
All kinds of questions and concerns were raised. The final decision, not unanimous, was that the interstate committee
of social workers endorsed transracial adoptive placements. The basic reason was that such an approach was more
important to the children's well being than for them to be shifted from one temporary foster boarding home to another
when adoptive parents were not available. Further, the children placed in transracial adoptive homes could be helped
somewhat, but they would have to meet the issues themselves and solve identity issues as they matured. / So it is with
biracial children. Each comes to grip with individualized issues and each solves them in their own way. We can stand
with them; we can provide understanding and empathy, but we cannot do enough to protect their innermost feelings.