Paul Kusuda’s column
Retaining Traditional Cultures for Children
Retaining Traditional Cultures for Children
By Paul H. Kusuda
Asian American parents in the relatively recent past have faced a dilemma about raising
their children to be American while retaining “old country” cultural values, beliefs, and
traditions. Publisher/Editor of Asian Wisconzine Heidi Pascual described in her “Over the
cup of tea” column (July 2010) how a few groups of Asian parents dealt with a concern faced
by both Asian and non-Asian immigrants to the U.S. She discussed experiences of Hmong,
Asian Indian, Filipino, Chinese, and Japanese parents.
Ms. Pascual clearly brought to light some of the fears and hopes many immigrant
parents had as they adjusted to the change in culture from “old” to “new.” Those of us who
are not immigrants take for granted that what we are what we are. We were born in the U.S.;
therefore, we are U.S. citizens with no effort on our parts. Many of us have no idea how
fortunate we are to have that citizenship, its responsibilities, its rights, etc.
According to an article in the August 20-September 2, 2010 issue of the Pacific Citizen
(publication of the Japanese American Citizens League), in the 1940s, the Native Sons of the
Golden West, a long-time California group, “…launched a concerted effort to deny ....
Asian American parents in the relatively recent past have faced a dilemma about raising
their children to be American while retaining “old country” cultural values, beliefs, and
traditions. Publisher/Editor of Asian Wisconzine Heidi Pascual described in her “Over the
cup of tea” column (July 2010) how a few groups of Asian parents dealt with a concern faced
by both Asian and non-Asian immigrants to the U.S. She discussed experiences of Hmong,
Asian Indian, Filipino, Chinese, and Japanese parents.
Ms. Pascual clearly brought to light some of the fears and hopes many immigrant
parents had as they adjusted to the change in culture from “old” to “new.” Those of us who
are not immigrants take for granted that what we are what we are. We were born in the U.S.;
therefore, we are U.S. citizens with no effort on our parts. Many of us have no idea how
fortunate we are to have that citizenship, its responsibilities, its rights, etc.
According to an article in the August 20-September 2, 2010 issue of the Pacific Citizen
(publication of the Japanese American Citizens League), in the 1940s, the Native Sons of the
Golden West, a long-time California group, “…launched a concerted effort to deny ....
…citizenship…” to U.S.-born children of Japanese immigrants. Similar efforts are being pursued today relative to
children born of undocumented aliens. That certainly doesn’t appear to be reflective of the American Way. Few of us
have understanding of , or give credit to, immigrant parents who did their utmost to raise their children to be American
while retaining as many “old country” values, traditions, and cultures as possible. Often, such merging was not possible
or only minimally possible. Much depended on their children’s associates and milieu. For Asian parents, the task was
doubly difficult. In the 1900s and earlier, legally-entered Asian immigrants were denied naturalization processes. Not
until the mid-1940s was that changed.
Non-immigrant parents, viz., African American and Native American, faced similar identity concerns but with
considerably different historical backgrounds. Hispanic and Hispanic American parents face similar issues but with
differing U.S. experiences.
In my case, which I know best, I consider luck had to be with us despite the many barriers my parents faced and had
to overcome. My father emigrated from Japan after high school graduation with ability to read, write, and speak English.
His speech was what I would call passable; he was able to express himself well enough to be understood to get by. My
mother emigrated when she was 13 years old to join her step-mother who came to California years previously. Both of
my parents did not plan to return to Japan as did my grandmother. They never returned, not even to visit relatives and
friends. They decided to stay in America even though they could not become U.S. citizens.
When my parents opened their small neighborhood grocery store in the near west side of Los Angeles, they found the
previous owners had living quarters in the back of the store. The space might have been adequate for a couple, but not
for a family of six. So, they rented a house about a half-block away from the store.
The wholesalers, delivery people, mailmen (women weren’t mail-carriers those days), policemen, and others wanted
to give a name they could easily pronounce. They called him Frank, Jim, or George; he chose George. I think he could
have used Mas since his name was Masao, but he decided an American name was preferable. My mother received the
name Elaine, even though her name was Chiteko, when she was enrolled in elementary school. She hardly ever used
that name because most of the time, she was called Mrs. Kusuda.
My older brother was named Bill and had a middle name, Hideo. The name on his birth certificate was not William,
and he never answered to Will. Some teachers tried to call him William; he continually had to correct them. My younger
sister and I had to call him Nisan (pronounced knee-san). We didn’t call him Bill until we became young adults.
My sister was named Helen and had a middle name, Chiyoko. For some reason, while growing up, I used her
Japanese name. Now, I call her Helen. She was never called Nesan (neh-san) because she had no younger sibling to
call her that.
I was named Paul (suggested by the doctor who helped my mother during delivery) with the Japanese name Haruo,
difficult for most to pronounce. I don’t use it. Instead I use a middle initial. My sister had to call me Haruo Nisan, to
differentiate me from my brother whom we both had to address or make reference to as Nisan. I don’t know whether that
practice was followed in other Japanese families, but my parents insisted on it.
My parents chose to give each of us children two names, not only to ease communication with peers and others but
also because of their determination to help us become Americanized. Further, when we were growing up, they spoke
English to us as much as they could. That way, they felt we would not be lost when we entered elementary school.
children born of undocumented aliens. That certainly doesn’t appear to be reflective of the American Way. Few of us
have understanding of , or give credit to, immigrant parents who did their utmost to raise their children to be American
while retaining as many “old country” values, traditions, and cultures as possible. Often, such merging was not possible
or only minimally possible. Much depended on their children’s associates and milieu. For Asian parents, the task was
doubly difficult. In the 1900s and earlier, legally-entered Asian immigrants were denied naturalization processes. Not
until the mid-1940s was that changed.
Non-immigrant parents, viz., African American and Native American, faced similar identity concerns but with
considerably different historical backgrounds. Hispanic and Hispanic American parents face similar issues but with
differing U.S. experiences.
In my case, which I know best, I consider luck had to be with us despite the many barriers my parents faced and had
to overcome. My father emigrated from Japan after high school graduation with ability to read, write, and speak English.
His speech was what I would call passable; he was able to express himself well enough to be understood to get by. My
mother emigrated when she was 13 years old to join her step-mother who came to California years previously. Both of
my parents did not plan to return to Japan as did my grandmother. They never returned, not even to visit relatives and
friends. They decided to stay in America even though they could not become U.S. citizens.
When my parents opened their small neighborhood grocery store in the near west side of Los Angeles, they found the
previous owners had living quarters in the back of the store. The space might have been adequate for a couple, but not
for a family of six. So, they rented a house about a half-block away from the store.
The wholesalers, delivery people, mailmen (women weren’t mail-carriers those days), policemen, and others wanted
to give a name they could easily pronounce. They called him Frank, Jim, or George; he chose George. I think he could
have used Mas since his name was Masao, but he decided an American name was preferable. My mother received the
name Elaine, even though her name was Chiteko, when she was enrolled in elementary school. She hardly ever used
that name because most of the time, she was called Mrs. Kusuda.
My older brother was named Bill and had a middle name, Hideo. The name on his birth certificate was not William,
and he never answered to Will. Some teachers tried to call him William; he continually had to correct them. My younger
sister and I had to call him Nisan (pronounced knee-san). We didn’t call him Bill until we became young adults.
My sister was named Helen and had a middle name, Chiyoko. For some reason, while growing up, I used her
Japanese name. Now, I call her Helen. She was never called Nesan (neh-san) because she had no younger sibling to
call her that.
I was named Paul (suggested by the doctor who helped my mother during delivery) with the Japanese name Haruo,
difficult for most to pronounce. I don’t use it. Instead I use a middle initial. My sister had to call me Haruo Nisan, to
differentiate me from my brother whom we both had to address or make reference to as Nisan. I don’t know whether that
practice was followed in other Japanese families, but my parents insisted on it.
My parents chose to give each of us children two names, not only to ease communication with peers and others but
also because of their determination to help us become Americanized. Further, when we were growing up, they spoke
English to us as much as they could. That way, they felt we would not be lost when we entered elementary school.
It worked. When I was in kindergarten my teacher
used me as interpreter with other Nisei students.
Our family experiences were both similar to and
different from many other Japanese families. The
largest difference, I think, is that my parents really
wanted us to be Americans. Thus, they had the
difficult task of inculcating us with old country
culture, traditions, etc. All three of us children
attended an Episcopal Church within a half-mile of
our home. We actually knew nothing of Buddhism
or Shintoism. However, somehow our parents
managed development of bicultural understanding
and appreciation. They did a great job—and I’ve
always been thankful.
used me as interpreter with other Nisei students.
Our family experiences were both similar to and
different from many other Japanese families. The
largest difference, I think, is that my parents really
wanted us to be Americans. Thus, they had the
difficult task of inculcating us with old country
culture, traditions, etc. All three of us children
attended an Episcopal Church within a half-mile of
our home. We actually knew nothing of Buddhism
or Shintoism. However, somehow our parents
managed development of bicultural understanding
and appreciation. They did a great job—and I’ve
always been thankful.