Hedging is Generally Good in a Cultural Sense

Lil’ Wayne is unhedged to Jay Z’s hedged. The danger is being a Lil’ Wayne who is too steadfastly a hardcore gangsta rapper. He has the “back the ‘f’ up” diamond-grill-mouthpiece. He has the menacing lyrics. He abuses drugs, including codeine cough syrup[i]. He gloats about his time in prison; he gets into mean confrontations with people. He is a true gangsta. The dirty secret is that his fanbase includes a lot of wannabes. It includes a lot of types who enjoy the voyeurism of being a Lil’ Wayne acolyte. I suspect Lil’ Wayne knows that he'd be better off developing more boutique cred, like Jay Z, in addition to his curriculum vitae in street cred. But Weezy just can’t help but be pushed, and goaded and socially pressured by fans and commentators alike to remain one-dimensional, and as a consequence a fringe performer in the broader pop-rap-electronic oeuvre today. 

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Assimilation vs. Multiculturalism: Indos Return to Holland

One of Tjalie Robinson’s most oft-quoted statements goes as follows: "I did not care that people wanted to call me ‘neither fish nor fowl,’ and wanted to label me, an Indo, either Indonesian or Dutch. For them I just had to choose between the two, right? Nevertheless, I stubbornly named the turtle as ‘neither fish nor fowl,’ and praised this animal as a unique, land-and-sea-lover who lives to very old ages, whose meat has an excellent taste, and who cuts through oceans from continent to continent. I said, ‘Just as I do not find the turtle inferior, although he is neither fish nor fowl, I do not think the Indo inferior. And that is the end of it!

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The Indo Boxer

Robinson possessed a rich, varied varied biography that showcased him as warrior-poet of sorts, an accomplished boxer and a man of letters who authored books and wrote highly literate articles widely read in the Netherlands[ii]. He was also interned under the Japanese occupation of the Dutch East Indies during WWII. The sheer force of his life experience was probably enough to give Robinson an audience- but he cared deeply about all things "Indo," affording him a special authority. 

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A Festival Way More Interesting Than Amsterdam's Best

Formerly known as Pasar Malam Besar, the Tong Tong Festival is the annual celebration of European-Indonesian heritage. At the time I went I was a graduate student at Tufts at the time, in Medford, Massachusetts. It was the Summer between my first and second year. I remembered learning about this event while in college. I always wanted to go. And that Summer I had a chance to visit.

Maybe there’d be some good food too.

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The Decline of "Hapa"

Most importantly, "Hapa" is in decline because Gen Z is rising, fast. And they have a different take.

"Hapa" is the ultimate "Millenial" term. It is cheerful. It is "multicultural." It is "here and now."

Generation Z is entrepreneurial, and they want to be experts. They have lived the Great recession; they understand that to get a job they have to think about the future- they need to anticipate where the jobs are going to be, what the challenges and opportunities of the global economy mean to them. They are the types that know that conversational ability in five languages is less valuable than dual fluency. They know that to survive they have to be resourceful- they have to have solid skills and knowledge, that is going to facilitate critical cross-functional work. In all of this, they want to be impactful. And any way you slice that- it means global.

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Mixed Pedagogy: ISF Academy Hong Kong →

Basically, they (ISF) are offering a curriculum intense enough to develop high-functioning Chinese language skills, but in a Western, non force-fed, curiosity-stimulating format. To paraphrase how ISF insiders described it, their academy is high-octane Chinese with a Western Pedagogy. The Headmaster, Malcolm Pritchard, embodies this himself,  blending the Brahmin Anglo boarding school vibe with cracking Jiangnan-accented Chinese.  

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ALL IN ONE RHYTHM

FIFA World Cup 2014 Brazil has as its official slogan and song: ALL IN ONE RHYTHM. That beg's the question: have you been to a Latin party? Have you been to a wedding in Mexico or just witnessed any of the video that streams out of Brazil during Carnaval? India and Bollywood have their cheesy, scripted dance numbers (Bhangra is pretty awesome, of course), but in Latin America music and dance are something vastly more participatory. Everyday people lose themselves; it takes a little bit of alcohol, some tunes, and a moderately level surface (like a creaky, three-legged table top), and as Glenn Frey said, “the heat is on!” I’ve never seen a person melt into a dance beat like they do in Latin America.

My experience is somewhat limited on this subject, but I’ve still been to Dominican birthday in the Bronx, I’ve been to the Tango capital of Buenos Aires, and of course, I’ve been to Rio de Janeiro during Carnaval. There were big, virtual message boards blinking messages in Portuguese about delays, which could have just said “I’m not the dummy who got stuck on the wrong side of Rio during Carnival.” It turns out that I was going to Manaus, way up North, for a trip up the Amazon and the Rio Negro; the Rio stopover was perfectly timed to coincide with the festivities. In my mind, I would just jump off the plane, sashay over to Sugarloaf, and an Astrud Gilberto look-alike would have a fresh coconut juice waiting for me as we watched the floats go by. Well, not quite. But I thought it would be folksy. Well, the scale of this thing was beyond anything I could imagine. It was like a fractal diagram, which just kept revealing itself to go on and on, forever. The whole city shut down. “For a dance party,” I kept muttering contemptuously, probably in some Ukrainian accent just to amuse myself (that is what solo travelers are reduced to).

Well, in my defense, maybe I was just grumpy because what was once open to the public they now charge for. Two hundred U.S. dollars, in this case, just to get in the door. In Rio they have a Sambódromo, which is a semi-enclosed roadside arena erected at the final stretch of the procession. People trained for months, they made costumes by hand, maybe hand-plucking their own peacock feathers or polishing their own cubic zirconia- who knows? Nothing would surprise me at this stage. I have been to big events, like the 2002 World Cup in Yokohama, Japan or the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China in Beijing in 1999, even the Lord of The Rings: Return of The King premiere in Westwood California with the whole cast in attendance; nothing was even close to the energy of Carnaval[i]. The idea that came to mind with Carnaval is Napoleon. I was thinking about how Napoleon made the whole setting up of his artillery a strategic thing, staging and mobility were all part of his new concept of warfare. In Brazil, there is no beginning and end to Carnaval, Brazil is Carnaval. Maybe because I didn’t have a chance to attend, and all I could do was observe the city of Rio, but it was the happiest place on earth. Music and the beat rule all, I’m sure there are psycho-stimulants involved to some degree, and of course sexuality undergirds all of Carnaval. It is one giant release, a massive indulgence, and for Brazil and other so-called “Cultures of Joy,” they live for it.

The flipside of Carnaval is Lent, that solemn Catholic occasion with lots of fasting and lots of repentance. It is rather masochistic, this juggling of extremes, and of course, so is Lent itself. But maybe it is designed to be that way. Every year, people go nuts during Carnaval, which immediately precedes Lent. Then, after what is sometimes called “Fat Tuesday,” on Wednesday they repent. They drop everything and reverse into how sorry they are for what they have done.

This dualism of extreme indulgence and extreme restraint was always a bit jarring. I got a real kick out of going to Brazil, but the extremity of it all never made sense, especially when every so-called repentant Brazilian knew full well that they were just going to do the same thing next year.

Fundamentally, I think the Western outlook on this subject is similar to the Chinese one in terms of seeking more tempered expressions of indulgence and restraint. Weber’s The Protestant Work Ethic rings true with modern White Anglo-Saxons, on both sides of the Atlantic. The WASP culture that is well-preserved in America’s old yacht clubs like the Duxbury Yacht Club, in Duxbury, Massachusetts, or other places like Augusta National, or the Bel-Air Bay Club in sunny California, is firm about tempering indulgence. No matter how wealthy you may be, these places are loathe to endorse conspicuous consumption. No clothing is meant to be too new, nothing is supposed to be too shiny. Business conversations are generally frowned upon in club quarters. There is a lot in common with the Chinese ethic in those respects.

Chinese people are rather allergic to dancing in public. Music has never been much a part of the culture. I have been to two major concerts in Hong Kong featuring foreign pop stars in recent memory; the first was Kanye West in 2007, and the second was Jennifer Lopez in 2012. I am the worst dancer myself, but jeez, I wanted to at least stand up, and at least bloody tap my foot. But the crowd stayed seated for virtually all of the J.Lo concert. Some will point to the die-hard fans of Canto Pop and say that I am mistaken, that in fact Chinese do have rhythm. But it is much different than, say Colombia, Argentina or Brazil. Shaking your booty, just surrendering your body to the beat is just too sensual, too indulgent. For a culture that has a hard time praising their kids when they get an “A,” this is none too surprising. It is a different relationship to the music that Chinese have. Rather than a Stendhal Syndrome, a type of rapture certain viewers of art in the 19th century were diagnosed with, it is less participation rather than appreciation. Sure the Canto Pop stars, and the K Pop ones and all the others, have their skimpy outfits and well-rehearsed suggestive moves, but the audience is passive. Maybe K Pop acts have to be so over the top, so elaborate and highly scripted because the East Asian audiences offer no feedback, no energy to feed off of? They are there to take it in and of course, enjoy. But they never surrender themselves, sacrificing their bodies to the Gods of rhythm.

 

[i] My little sister will not like this, but I was on fainting-alert due to her proximity to Orlando Bloom, who of course, plays Legolas Greenleaf.

More on Bouncing Around (The Frank and Ernest Story)

One of the side effects to bouncing around, as described in yesterday's post, is that tweaking your approach to every particular situation, being ad hoc in every instance, means you often sink to the lowest common denominator. You settle. You are like a fire truck, zipping around reactively putting out fires. You come under enormous pressure to base your decisions on pissing off the fewest number of people. And let us sing it: These are not the foundations to developing leadership. You will game situations, as we mentioned, doubting your own instincts as your rational brain whirrs up, informing you of all the reasons each side has their own legitimate grievances, each worth their own hearing. The amount of situational awareness, patience, and energy you have to gather, and stay on top of is burdensome to say the least. 

There are other, maybe even more troublesome aspects of bouncing around.

Samuel L. Jackson's character, Mitch Henessey, in The Long Kiss Goodnight delivers one of his most memorable lines of the movie, on a fake version of Larry King Live: "I'm always frank and earnest with women. Uh, in New York I'm Frank, and Chicago I'm Ernest.

It is funny. It is. Well, Samuel L. is funny, almost no matter what. Anyhow, I do want to tie this into the discussion of mixed race, and again I am speaking about what I know, specifically Chinese and Western.

He is a lovable ol' dirty bastard, who gets away with his schthick because he is on the right side of creepy. But Samuel L. is clearly "bouncing around." He's grabbing the low-hanging fruit. The delivery is funny and all, but intuitively we know something is off. If only the women in Chicago knew that he wasn't Ernest when he's in New York- we know he'd be in deep trouble. 

He'd be doo doo in Chicago and pxx pxx in New York instead.

I think that in the case of mixed people, there is something similar that goes on. It is not exactly the same- it doesn't have to do with licentiousness or New York or Chicago- but it is similar and it happens chronically.

That is, you play up the Chinese when it suits you, and play up the Western when that suits. For example:

  • You are Chinese amongst a Western group when, for example:
    • Chinese food comes up, or Chinese History, or Confucius or Aaron Kwok, or elite Chinese politics, or Beijing, or Chinese manners come up- and you embrace the sudden authority you have, all of a sudden. The only problem is this is a topic that you don't know that much about. 
  • You are Western amongst a Chinese group when, for example:
    • You are observing some arcane funereal rite, or you are visiting someone's distant relatives, or reading the social tea leaves, or required to be quiet or deferential or obsequious. 

One of the problems is that you are committing argumentum ab auctoritate: you are arguing from a position of inappropriate authority. On the flipside- the problem is you are taking a powder on the very type of topics you were supposed to be an expert in with your Western friends. 

If only the Western friends knew what you were saying to your Chinese friends! And vice versa! Welcome to Chi-York!!!

The danger in all of this is you become a musical conductor who loses sight of the composition. If that happens, all you are left with is a bundle of harmonious notes. You don't want to bounce around, because even though you may think to yourself- well, I'm just doing it for this one instance, for this one day, or for this one task, every time you do it you forget what it is you are bouncing from, and bouncing to.

In the end, you just want to be you- right?