Growing up I had a preference for Caucasian men. It was from media influence and also based on personal experiences. Growing up, Asian guys didn't find me attractive. The guys who chased me, who made the effort to get to know me, who saw me as beautiful, were all Caucasian. To Asian guys I was too smart, too ambitious, even too fat, (because their ideal girls were all size 0). I studied engineering, to which one Asian guy remarked, "That is such an unfeminine career!"
I know how the author feels. I am labeled a sell out for dating white guys. But no Asian guys ever approached me. The ones that I approached, I didn't fit their 'image'. Strangely enough, the Asian guys I met had an image of an Asian woman to be exactly like the stereotype: subservient, quiet, docile. She is the accessory item who sits pretty next to her man and drinks tea. When they get home, she should bring him his slippers. Every white guy I dated loved that I had fire, called him out on being wrong, and just accepted me the way that I am.
I was always the one to call off the relationship though. It's a complicated matter and too personal. I remember, not too long ago, I was at an Asian networking event where I was singing the praises of hotties like Daniel Henney. I was glad more Asian men are coming in to the mainstream that defied stereotypes. In fact, I've kept pictures of them on my blog.
A few Asian guys at the event said, "Oh, we don't want our pictures up." Um, first, they weren't even hot, and second, I never asked them. The last Asian guy who tried to hook up with me I couldn't date because he was one of the sheep. I met up with him and his friends, the Asian crowd that goes together in groups to go skiing or ice skating, things like that, to go to an improv show that had Eliot Chang in it, (my idea and it was an internet meetup thing). None had real interests or personal opinions. It was like being back in high school where all the guys got the same haircuts and all the girls had powdered faces and dark lipstick. And they all shopped at J. Crew or Banana Republic.
I can't be with someone who is easily influenced by others. My own brother is like that. He's the first to call me a sell out if he knew who I dated. My brother's point of view is: Asian women shouldn't date outside their race. He even hinted that she should take any Asian guy who's willing to have her, as long as she doesn't date outside her race. I don't know if his point of view has changed, but so many Asian guys like him share that point of view.
I remember one Chinese guy friend who cheered whenever he saw an Asian guy with a white girl. It's okay for a guy to date outside his race but not a girl?
I'm picky about boyfriends and I'm picky about friends, because it is really hard to find good people. I mean really good people who will stand by you and support you. I've never been in groups because everyone sways toward opinions that won't rock the boat. Since I'm always the one who asks, why not?, I'm generally the first to drift away. People don't like to think too much. They tend to just follow the status quo. It's easier to follow a view dictated by others and defend it than come up with their own.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Asian American women bear a cross as heavy as that borne by AA men. by Nadine Park Brookston
http://goldsea.com/Text/index.php?id=2106
By the age of ten I could picture my future husband. He would be handsome, thoughtful, brilliant, strong and sing like an archangel, just like my father. In my family race was never mentioned in connection with marriage. My parents’ only advice on the subject was, “Marry someone who respects you, someone you can respect in return.” I secretly decided, however, that the man I would marry would be Asian. It was a decision born of racial pride, filial love and maybe a touch of hero-worship.
Other than my brother and me, few Asians attended my high school. One was my best friend, a Chinese American girl. Kaylee had a crush on my older brother Jongsoo. I was friendly with an Asian boy named Lyle. He was smart, cute and, despite a few pimples and a nasal voice, attractive to me. We had some classes together and were friendly. I found myself thinking of him in a romantic way and imagined he saw me the same way. My hopes were dashed when he took another girl, a blonde, to the sophomore Halloween dance. I was equally disappointed when my brother Jongsoo turned down Kaylee’s invitation to the Sadie Hawkins dance.
For two years I turned down other boys in the hope Lyle would see the light. He never did, though we stayed friends. To this day he probably doesn’t know I had been waiting for him to ask me out. In my senior year I gave up on him and began dating a caucasian boy who had been asking me out since sophomore year. If Lyle cared, he never showed it. At our ten-year reunion I was flabbergasted to hear him recall, “You always did have a thing for blond guys!” The icy fury of my response surprised me even more than it did him.
“And you always were such a clueless asshole!” With that I turned on my heel and headed for the far side of the room.
It wasn’t until later that I began sorting out the emotions behind that little outburst. That’s when I began to understand that we Asian American women have been forced to carry a cross that is at least as heavy as the one borne by Asian American men. What makes it so much worse is that most people, including even some Asian American women, don’t know it. Remember that law of physics about every action producing an equal and opposite reaction? It applies to relations between men and women: for every injustice suffered by Asian men, Asian women suffer one of equal magnitude.
By now it’s well understood, at least among Asian Americans, that Asian men in America have to live with a lot of insulting false assumptions. It suffices to say that those stereotypes hamper AA men in the pursuit of professional and personal goals. Most people agree as to how unfair and inaccurate those assumptions are. By contrast even many otherwise intelligent people actually believe that we Asian American women enjoy a corresponding advantage! In other words, we are thought actually to benefit in some way from the existence of those nasty stereotypes about Asian men!
What is the advantage we are thought to enjoy? That we scorn our own men and are, therefore, desperately seeking white men which in turn makes us eager to please and therefore appealing to white men. How unspeakably vile is that? What self-respecting woman of any race would want to live with that kind of image?
It’s bad enough that we are constantly forced to fend off the insulting advances of white men who are clueless enough to believe the stereotype. What’s even worse is that many Asians of both genders seem to believe it as well! That, I would submit, is the terrible burden that we Asian women must bear. To have members of your own race see you as having traded on your ethnicity is like being trapped in one of those nightmarish halls of mirrors with no way out. That was the frustration behind my surprising outburst to Lyle at our reunion.
Before I continue, let me pause to admit that I am married to a white man. I say “admit” because there will be those Asian Americans who see in that fact irrefutable evidence that I am a “whitewashed sellout” and have been all along. As though we Asian American women have spent our entire lives hoping to marry outside of our race!
Why did I marry a white man? Because the first man I met who respected me as a person and whom I could respect in return happened to be white. And because my parents raised me not to judge a person by his race. Had I decided against marrying my husband for the sake of my girlhood dream of marrying an Asian American man, wouldn’t I have been as much a racist as a white woman who refuses to marry an Asian American man?
My parents had no trouble accepting my husband because they saw that he is a man worth respecting and, more importantly, that he does indeed respect me. Their love for me remains undiminished. They have never questioned the deep pride I have in my Asian heritage and culture. Yet every time I meet an Asian person, I catch myself bracing. Will I be recognized for what I am or be mistaken for their preconceptions?
That may have something to do with the fact that I was unmarried well into my thirties, dating rarely through my twenties. By most measures I should have been considered an attractive marriage prospect. I have a pleasant face, a cheerful disposition, a trim body, a good education, a successful career and good conversational skills. I never imagined myself as the type men would swarm over but I had always expected that I would have my fair share of interest from Asian men. How wrong life proved me.
Men did swarm over me but few were Asian. On those occasions when I spotted an attractive Asian man and worked up the nerve to strike up a conversation, he typically showed conditional interest, then drifted away. That happened again and again. I was baffled. For a while I even took secretly to studying women with Asian husbands to see what I might be doing wrong. I even let my mother set me up with a man introduced by a friend of hers. He turned out to have very old-country expectations of women. I wanted to marry an Asian man, but I wasn’t willing to transform myself from an American into someone of an alien nationality.
No one understands the Asian woman’s burden better than their men, perhaps even more so if they happen not to be Asian. My husband is as troubled as I am by false assumptions about Asian American woman. “It’s an insult to us both,” he told me more than once. When we are together in social situations I find myself putting on a kind of performance for his sake. He understands why I do it but sometimes calls me on it. “You were doing the bitch-goddess bit again,” he would observe. He knows I do it to counter the assumption that I, as an Asian woman, was somehow an easy catch for him — and the attendant implications about himself. He knows better than anyone how untrue it is. I was by no means a bitch-goddess but I was certainly no easy catch. For nearly two years I had put him off by confiding that I was hoping to marry an Asian man. It hurt him. “That will never happen,” he scoffed with what I took to be false bravado. “Those Asian guys don’t know a good thing when they see it.”
Unbeknownst to him I had often consoled myself with those very words. To this day I don’t know why not one of the Asian men I dated showed serious interest in me, but I soothed myself with a plethora of theories. Were they too confused by the stereotypes — about themselves and about Asian women — to take me at face value — a desirable Asian woman who preferred Asian men? They seemed to hold back, as though suspicious of my motives, doubtful of my sincerity, perhaps waiting for me to throw myself at their feet to prove my commitment. Stereotypes had robbed me of the power to be seen for what I am. As I approached my mid thirties my longing for someone who understood me came to overshadow my girlhood dream of marrying an Asian man.
Some Asians seem to suppose that an Asian woman married to a white man has no interest in her identity. Nothing could be less true. As an Asian woman in an interracial relationship I am subjected to far more opportunities to experience the subtle prejudices than an Asian woman married to an Asian man can even imagine. It isn’t that my husband’s relatives, old friends, co-workers and neighbors dislike me for being Asian. It’s simply that most can’t know me the way my husband does and too often fill in the blanks with those old misconceptions. For that reason I am more conscious, on a day to day basis, of a longing to connect with my fellow Asian Americans. Unfortunately, all too often that longing slams up against so much misunderstanding and hostility that at times, bitterly disillusioned, I have come close to turning my back on Asians.
What could be more painful than being misunderstood and rejected by those with whom you share the most? I asked myself why I should keep subjecting myself to rejection and pain because of stereotypes and assumptions for which I have no responsibility? It seemed easier to avoid Asians altogether. But then would come those rare and brief but powerful flashes of mutual recognition upon meeting a kindred Asian American soul who can see me for what I am. I cherish those moments and long for the day when they won’t be so rare.
By the age of ten I could picture my future husband. He would be handsome, thoughtful, brilliant, strong and sing like an archangel, just like my father. In my family race was never mentioned in connection with marriage. My parents’ only advice on the subject was, “Marry someone who respects you, someone you can respect in return.” I secretly decided, however, that the man I would marry would be Asian. It was a decision born of racial pride, filial love and maybe a touch of hero-worship.
Other than my brother and me, few Asians attended my high school. One was my best friend, a Chinese American girl. Kaylee had a crush on my older brother Jongsoo. I was friendly with an Asian boy named Lyle. He was smart, cute and, despite a few pimples and a nasal voice, attractive to me. We had some classes together and were friendly. I found myself thinking of him in a romantic way and imagined he saw me the same way. My hopes were dashed when he took another girl, a blonde, to the sophomore Halloween dance. I was equally disappointed when my brother Jongsoo turned down Kaylee’s invitation to the Sadie Hawkins dance.
For two years I turned down other boys in the hope Lyle would see the light. He never did, though we stayed friends. To this day he probably doesn’t know I had been waiting for him to ask me out. In my senior year I gave up on him and began dating a caucasian boy who had been asking me out since sophomore year. If Lyle cared, he never showed it. At our ten-year reunion I was flabbergasted to hear him recall, “You always did have a thing for blond guys!” The icy fury of my response surprised me even more than it did him.
“And you always were such a clueless asshole!” With that I turned on my heel and headed for the far side of the room.
It wasn’t until later that I began sorting out the emotions behind that little outburst. That’s when I began to understand that we Asian American women have been forced to carry a cross that is at least as heavy as the one borne by Asian American men. What makes it so much worse is that most people, including even some Asian American women, don’t know it. Remember that law of physics about every action producing an equal and opposite reaction? It applies to relations between men and women: for every injustice suffered by Asian men, Asian women suffer one of equal magnitude.
By now it’s well understood, at least among Asian Americans, that Asian men in America have to live with a lot of insulting false assumptions. It suffices to say that those stereotypes hamper AA men in the pursuit of professional and personal goals. Most people agree as to how unfair and inaccurate those assumptions are. By contrast even many otherwise intelligent people actually believe that we Asian American women enjoy a corresponding advantage! In other words, we are thought actually to benefit in some way from the existence of those nasty stereotypes about Asian men!
What is the advantage we are thought to enjoy? That we scorn our own men and are, therefore, desperately seeking white men which in turn makes us eager to please and therefore appealing to white men. How unspeakably vile is that? What self-respecting woman of any race would want to live with that kind of image?
It’s bad enough that we are constantly forced to fend off the insulting advances of white men who are clueless enough to believe the stereotype. What’s even worse is that many Asians of both genders seem to believe it as well! That, I would submit, is the terrible burden that we Asian women must bear. To have members of your own race see you as having traded on your ethnicity is like being trapped in one of those nightmarish halls of mirrors with no way out. That was the frustration behind my surprising outburst to Lyle at our reunion.
Before I continue, let me pause to admit that I am married to a white man. I say “admit” because there will be those Asian Americans who see in that fact irrefutable evidence that I am a “whitewashed sellout” and have been all along. As though we Asian American women have spent our entire lives hoping to marry outside of our race!
Why did I marry a white man? Because the first man I met who respected me as a person and whom I could respect in return happened to be white. And because my parents raised me not to judge a person by his race. Had I decided against marrying my husband for the sake of my girlhood dream of marrying an Asian American man, wouldn’t I have been as much a racist as a white woman who refuses to marry an Asian American man?
My parents had no trouble accepting my husband because they saw that he is a man worth respecting and, more importantly, that he does indeed respect me. Their love for me remains undiminished. They have never questioned the deep pride I have in my Asian heritage and culture. Yet every time I meet an Asian person, I catch myself bracing. Will I be recognized for what I am or be mistaken for their preconceptions?
That may have something to do with the fact that I was unmarried well into my thirties, dating rarely through my twenties. By most measures I should have been considered an attractive marriage prospect. I have a pleasant face, a cheerful disposition, a trim body, a good education, a successful career and good conversational skills. I never imagined myself as the type men would swarm over but I had always expected that I would have my fair share of interest from Asian men. How wrong life proved me.
Men did swarm over me but few were Asian. On those occasions when I spotted an attractive Asian man and worked up the nerve to strike up a conversation, he typically showed conditional interest, then drifted away. That happened again and again. I was baffled. For a while I even took secretly to studying women with Asian husbands to see what I might be doing wrong. I even let my mother set me up with a man introduced by a friend of hers. He turned out to have very old-country expectations of women. I wanted to marry an Asian man, but I wasn’t willing to transform myself from an American into someone of an alien nationality.
No one understands the Asian woman’s burden better than their men, perhaps even more so if they happen not to be Asian. My husband is as troubled as I am by false assumptions about Asian American woman. “It’s an insult to us both,” he told me more than once. When we are together in social situations I find myself putting on a kind of performance for his sake. He understands why I do it but sometimes calls me on it. “You were doing the bitch-goddess bit again,” he would observe. He knows I do it to counter the assumption that I, as an Asian woman, was somehow an easy catch for him — and the attendant implications about himself. He knows better than anyone how untrue it is. I was by no means a bitch-goddess but I was certainly no easy catch. For nearly two years I had put him off by confiding that I was hoping to marry an Asian man. It hurt him. “That will never happen,” he scoffed with what I took to be false bravado. “Those Asian guys don’t know a good thing when they see it.”
Unbeknownst to him I had often consoled myself with those very words. To this day I don’t know why not one of the Asian men I dated showed serious interest in me, but I soothed myself with a plethora of theories. Were they too confused by the stereotypes — about themselves and about Asian women — to take me at face value — a desirable Asian woman who preferred Asian men? They seemed to hold back, as though suspicious of my motives, doubtful of my sincerity, perhaps waiting for me to throw myself at their feet to prove my commitment. Stereotypes had robbed me of the power to be seen for what I am. As I approached my mid thirties my longing for someone who understood me came to overshadow my girlhood dream of marrying an Asian man.
Some Asians seem to suppose that an Asian woman married to a white man has no interest in her identity. Nothing could be less true. As an Asian woman in an interracial relationship I am subjected to far more opportunities to experience the subtle prejudices than an Asian woman married to an Asian man can even imagine. It isn’t that my husband’s relatives, old friends, co-workers and neighbors dislike me for being Asian. It’s simply that most can’t know me the way my husband does and too often fill in the blanks with those old misconceptions. For that reason I am more conscious, on a day to day basis, of a longing to connect with my fellow Asian Americans. Unfortunately, all too often that longing slams up against so much misunderstanding and hostility that at times, bitterly disillusioned, I have come close to turning my back on Asians.
What could be more painful than being misunderstood and rejected by those with whom you share the most? I asked myself why I should keep subjecting myself to rejection and pain because of stereotypes and assumptions for which I have no responsibility? It seemed easier to avoid Asians altogether. But then would come those rare and brief but powerful flashes of mutual recognition upon meeting a kindred Asian American soul who can see me for what I am. I cherish those moments and long for the day when they won’t be so rare.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Possible Halloween Costumes
After my friend shot down the Supa Pimp Mama costume:
I can be a racer:
Or a pin-up girl.Possible costume candidates are:
I can be a racer:
Or a pin-up girl.Possible costume candidates are:
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Helpful Software and Links for Writers
Bubbl helps you brainstorm online
http://www.bubbl.us/
* Create colorful mind maps online
* Share and work with friends
* Embed your mind map in your blog or website
* Email and print your mind map
* Save your mind map as an image
Evernote
http://www.evernote.com/about/learn_more/
Make notes and organize them then access them from anywhere
yWriter word processor for writers
http://www.spacejock.com/yWriter.html
Second, and still rather important, it's a word processor which breaks your novel into chapters and scenes. It will not write your novel for you, suggest plot ideas or perform creative tasks of any kind. It does help you keep track of your work, leaving your mind free to create.
http://www.bubbl.us/
* Create colorful mind maps online
* Share and work with friends
* Embed your mind map in your blog or website
* Email and print your mind map
* Save your mind map as an image
Evernote
http://www.evernote.com/about/learn_more/
Make notes and organize them then access them from anywhere
yWriter word processor for writers
http://www.spacejock.com/yWriter.html
Second, and still rather important, it's a word processor which breaks your novel into chapters and scenes. It will not write your novel for you, suggest plot ideas or perform creative tasks of any kind. It does help you keep track of your work, leaving your mind free to create.
WWII all-Chinese American unit reminisces by Julian Guthrie from SFGate.com
Harry Lim, Wilfred Eng, Tom Luey and Paul Ngim grew up in Oakland's Chinatown, riding their bikes in the quiet streets and graduating from high school together. In 1943, these sons of Chinese immigrants received letters that would change their lives, letters that began simply with "Greetings."
Images
Harry Lim (from left), Paul Ngim, Tom Luey and Wilfred En...Albert Fong kept a collection of photos of the Chinese Am...Susan and Sam Jue look through the directories on the Fly... View More Images
They were drafted into World War II and ended up together again, this time serving in the same all-Chinese American unit supporting the 14th Air Force's famed Flying Tigers. The fighter squadrons, flying the shark-faced P-40s, defended China against Japanese forces and will be the subject of a forthcoming film by action director John Woo.
More than six decades later, the Oakland boys are now octogenarians. Once a year, they get together to share stories, photos and memories - of flying "the hump," the aerial supply route over the Himalayas, and of returning after the war to a changed Chinatown and as changed men.
"When I got out of the service on Jan. 8, 1946, I was no longer a kid," chuckled Harry Lim, 84, at the Flying Tigers' recent reunion in Oakland. "I'd been around the world. I was proud I had served my time. We kind of proved we were not 'coolies.' "
His friends nodded. Before the war, discrimination against Chinese Americans was rampant, he said.
"The 'coolie' term was used because the Chinese had come to America and done the lowest-wage jobs," Lim said. "The war made things better for us."
An estimated 13,000 Chinese Americans served in World War II, but there were only two all-Chinese American units: the 407th Air Service Squadron and the 987th Signal Company, both providing service to the 14th. They were based in the China, Burma and India Theater.
New appreciation
Lim said that being in China for the first time during the war made him appreciate his parents' decision to come to America.
"I remember a transport plane carrying Chinese soldiers crashed at an air base in Xian, and we went to rescue the soldiers," Lim said. "Some were burned pretty bad. We rushed them to hospitals, and the hospitals refused them. They viewed the Chinese soldiers as expendable."
Paul Ngim, who was a company clerk and truck driver during the war, remembers being "scared to death" flying over the Himalayas.
"We all had parachutes," he recalled. "But if you have to jump and parachute there, you'll never be found again. We all knew that."
Ngim added, "I also remember loading those bombs into the airplanes. That was something." The men of the 407th serviced and fueled the fighter planes, made them mission-ready, did crash detail and trained Chinese soldiers as mechanics and engineers.
Eng viewed his service as an opportunity to create a strong image for Chinese living in America.
'The backbone'
"We were the support squadrons for the Flying Tigers," Eng said. "We were the backbone. We all wanted to do a good job."
Sitting together in a room at the Marriott Hotel in Oakland, where the Flying Tigers reunion was held, the men looked at one another and shared smiles.
"Sixty years goes by pretty quick," Lim said. "Seems like yesterday I got that letter. I still have it - my so-called invitation to service."
Luey said he was actually relieved when he learned he would be a part of the 407th.
"I had thought I was going to be in the ground troops," Luey said. "I was so happy to get a transfer and be told I was going to be in an all-Chinese unit going to China. I was trained as a mechanic. I was ready to service the fighter planes."
After the war, several of the men went to college on the GI bill and then found jobs as aircraft electricians at the Naval Air Station in Alameda and at Lockheed Martin.
Eng, who worked in the engineering department at the Naval Air Station, scanned the faces of his friends: "It means something that we ate and slept and survived together."
E-mail Julian Guthrie at jguthrie@sfchronicle.com.
Images
Harry Lim (from left), Paul Ngim, Tom Luey and Wilfred En...Albert Fong kept a collection of photos of the Chinese Am...Susan and Sam Jue look through the directories on the Fly... View More Images
They were drafted into World War II and ended up together again, this time serving in the same all-Chinese American unit supporting the 14th Air Force's famed Flying Tigers. The fighter squadrons, flying the shark-faced P-40s, defended China against Japanese forces and will be the subject of a forthcoming film by action director John Woo.
More than six decades later, the Oakland boys are now octogenarians. Once a year, they get together to share stories, photos and memories - of flying "the hump," the aerial supply route over the Himalayas, and of returning after the war to a changed Chinatown and as changed men.
"When I got out of the service on Jan. 8, 1946, I was no longer a kid," chuckled Harry Lim, 84, at the Flying Tigers' recent reunion in Oakland. "I'd been around the world. I was proud I had served my time. We kind of proved we were not 'coolies.' "
His friends nodded. Before the war, discrimination against Chinese Americans was rampant, he said.
"The 'coolie' term was used because the Chinese had come to America and done the lowest-wage jobs," Lim said. "The war made things better for us."
An estimated 13,000 Chinese Americans served in World War II, but there were only two all-Chinese American units: the 407th Air Service Squadron and the 987th Signal Company, both providing service to the 14th. They were based in the China, Burma and India Theater.
New appreciation
Lim said that being in China for the first time during the war made him appreciate his parents' decision to come to America.
"I remember a transport plane carrying Chinese soldiers crashed at an air base in Xian, and we went to rescue the soldiers," Lim said. "Some were burned pretty bad. We rushed them to hospitals, and the hospitals refused them. They viewed the Chinese soldiers as expendable."
Paul Ngim, who was a company clerk and truck driver during the war, remembers being "scared to death" flying over the Himalayas.
"We all had parachutes," he recalled. "But if you have to jump and parachute there, you'll never be found again. We all knew that."
Ngim added, "I also remember loading those bombs into the airplanes. That was something." The men of the 407th serviced and fueled the fighter planes, made them mission-ready, did crash detail and trained Chinese soldiers as mechanics and engineers.
Eng viewed his service as an opportunity to create a strong image for Chinese living in America.
'The backbone'
"We were the support squadrons for the Flying Tigers," Eng said. "We were the backbone. We all wanted to do a good job."
Sitting together in a room at the Marriott Hotel in Oakland, where the Flying Tigers reunion was held, the men looked at one another and shared smiles.
"Sixty years goes by pretty quick," Lim said. "Seems like yesterday I got that letter. I still have it - my so-called invitation to service."
Luey said he was actually relieved when he learned he would be a part of the 407th.
"I had thought I was going to be in the ground troops," Luey said. "I was so happy to get a transfer and be told I was going to be in an all-Chinese unit going to China. I was trained as a mechanic. I was ready to service the fighter planes."
After the war, several of the men went to college on the GI bill and then found jobs as aircraft electricians at the Naval Air Station in Alameda and at Lockheed Martin.
Eng, who worked in the engineering department at the Naval Air Station, scanned the faces of his friends: "It means something that we ate and slept and survived together."
E-mail Julian Guthrie at jguthrie@sfchronicle.com.
Toyz Story by Calvin Son from MoreThanAStance.com
http://morethanastance.com/features/mf/2009/10/toyz-story/
It doesn’t take long to realize that Geoffrey Chang isn’t your typical b-boy.
“I’m a big nerd,” the 21-year-old is saying. He’s talking about his hobbies outside of b-boying, like art shows and community service, among, uh, other stuff.
“I’m Asian, so you can probably already guess that I’m really into anime. I really like playing games. I used to paint little figurines,” he admits.
The Silver Spring, MD native doesn’t sound sheepish because, well, he isn’t. On the other hand, it’s one of the few stereotypes applicable to Chang that is actually accurate.
He’s standing with his hands in the pockets of his black jacket, with his backpack and threadbare, paint-splattered Nikes also in tow. The sun is ducking from the patio at the 40 Watt in Rotterdam. Street Science’s Generations Battle is about to begin.
Huddled hip-hoppers peek through the occasional weed smoke cloud wafting by as the interview continues. Chang—known to many as Toyz aRe Us, or simply Toyz (like Geoffrey the Giraffe? Get it?)—doesn’t seem to mind.
As famed hip-hop photographer Martha Cooper will later point out, Toyz tends to stand out from the crowd. She’ll be referring to the fact that his bright yellow shirt makes for better pictures than the drab colors worn by other b-boys. But her words ring true in other regards as well. C’mon, it’s Martha Cooper.
Besides, aside from his shirt, Toyz is as distinguishable for what he lacks as much as what he has.
In conversation, he displays little pretense—far from the usual gruff b-boy aloofness—as he excitedly greets friends by name. Absent are the standard foam cap and Pro-Keds. Likewise for the mean-mugging and constant cock-throwing. Any hopes of classifying him as a “style” or “power” b-boy get thrown out the window.
Instead, he speaks like the kind of intellectual-meets-smart-ass you might see in a Judd Apatow movie. During a battle, you might see him beam a widespread, cheesy smile at his opponents while they coldly stare back, emotionless.
Or Toyz may do a silly little marching dance in place. Then a dazzling display of interweaving footwork. Some crazy threading shit with his hands. ‘90s variations. A firmly clenched airchair as a closer.
But it’s not that Toyz doesn’t take himself or the culture seriously. Truth be told, he’s not even really that weird.
He’s just made a point to be comfortable with himself and with the dance. And being normal—being himself—makes him stand out in a sea of b-kids trying to become someone else.
Simple a concept as it is, he says it’s a large part of how he’s gotten invited to events like Monster Jam in Korea, IBE in the Netherlands, or Street Science, where he stands now.
“A lot of people don’t really understand the concept of having your own style – being individual,” Toyz says. “You might be able to come up with your own combo, but [many b-boys] all generally tend to move extremely similar to one another to when it comes down to the way they just carry themselves in a battle, like their character and attitude. They might have their own signature moves, but they all come in like this, and they’re all imitating particular styles they’ve seen before, or look up to, which is fine. But eventually, as you progress, you gotta realize that you just gotta be yourself.”
Toyz seems to have realized this for himself early on; he’s been making all his money through dancing since he first started b-boying at the age of 12.
“You’re not gonna get big by posting a trailer of yourself after like two years of dancing or calling out judges just because you lost.”Introduced to the dance through his brother, Toyz found inspiration in all the move-makers of the ‘90s: Style Elements, Skill Methodz, Breaks Kru, HaviKoro, Footwork Fanatix, Force Force, and of course Lionz of Zion.
In fact, later on, he’d come to be associated with a long list of crews that’s difficult to say aloud quickly without spitting a little: All Ways Rockin’, Lionz of Zion, Beat Whakz and 4F (Flying Fists From the Floor).
But even with such strong (and numerous) b-boy ties, Toyz’s stories about his friends tend to sound like just that: stories about his friends. They’re normal people who like to have a good time, even if they go by names like Toyz and Napalm and Domkey.
It’s just that when he and his friends/crewmates have a good time, sometimes it can end up on YouTube. Then a bunch of people watch it, comment, and debate a lot about Toyz’s ethnicity (he’s Korean American).
But that’s not really the point.
“A lot of kids these days grew up thinking, ‘Oh, I’m in this big crew now,’ and they think they’re famous,” Toyz says. “But just because you’re in a big crew doesn’t mean people know who you are, you know?”
How, then, did he manage to get his name out? Toyz’s method was to do nothing special, kind of, which in turn ended up equating to everything.
“The best way to get yourself known, if you want to get your name out there, is to just do your own thing,” he says. “Get out to as many battles as you can. Win, roast people. You don’t even necessarily have to win battles. If you just stand out, people will notice you.
“You’re not gonna get big by posting a trailer of yourself after like two years of dancing or calling out judges just because you lost,” he continues. “Just do your thing. Just stay humble. Just enjoy yourself. That’s the most important part. Because while you’re enjoying yourself, other people will notice. And eventually, you know, fame and fortune will follow. But for those who purposely seek it, they tend to have a much harder time—they end up bothering others around them as opposed to getting their attention ripping the cypher or just repping [their] crew name.”
toyz4
Photo by MurphYou get the feeling it’s not the first time he’s been asked that question. He does make a living answering questions.
While other 20-something-year-olds across the country are prolonging their educations in attempts to put off dealing with a dismal job market, Toyz teaches a class himself.
But there are a few items that might seem suspiciously absent from his lesson plans.
One is linked to the fact that Toyz actually looks like he’s having fun when he’s dancing.
“You see a lot of suburban cats that you know get into b-boying, and they kinda lose themselves in that character and try and act all hard and whatnot. They think they’re some tough little hoodlums,” he says. “But they’re not really that at all. In most of the cases, they probably have a really nice home, a really nice family. But then they get in the circle and try and talk all that trash and think they’re tough, but they’re not.
And the other thing? Toyz’s “nerd”-like tendencies and love for gadgets are no secret. But he’s quick to point out that a lot of this loss of originality and tendency to “front” can be attributed to technology.
“Nowadays, thanks to the internet, the moment they see one good b-boy, they all try to imitate them,” Toyz laments. “And they don’t have anyone to talk to. Or any peers to learn from. So they just sit home, watch videos, and they just bite everyone’s moves and style… They just stay trapped in a box. And they’re unable to think outside of it.”
So what, then, is it that ultimately inspires Toyz’s ability to think outside the box? Is it the anime? The girls? The chance to get flown out to countries where marijuana is legal?
“Well, I always tell other people this: I don’t wanna be the b-boy where people are like, ‘Oh, he moves just like this other guy,’” he says. “I wanna be the one where the kids go, ‘Oh, I wanna dance like him.’”
Toyz pauses briefly, perhaps realizing the irony of what he said.
Without missing a beat, he quickly adds, “Or, ‘Oh, I wanna have a crazy style that’s different from everyone else.’ That’s what motivates me in terms of my dancing
It doesn’t take long to realize that Geoffrey Chang isn’t your typical b-boy.
“I’m a big nerd,” the 21-year-old is saying. He’s talking about his hobbies outside of b-boying, like art shows and community service, among, uh, other stuff.
“I’m Asian, so you can probably already guess that I’m really into anime. I really like playing games. I used to paint little figurines,” he admits.
The Silver Spring, MD native doesn’t sound sheepish because, well, he isn’t. On the other hand, it’s one of the few stereotypes applicable to Chang that is actually accurate.
He’s standing with his hands in the pockets of his black jacket, with his backpack and threadbare, paint-splattered Nikes also in tow. The sun is ducking from the patio at the 40 Watt in Rotterdam. Street Science’s Generations Battle is about to begin.
Huddled hip-hoppers peek through the occasional weed smoke cloud wafting by as the interview continues. Chang—known to many as Toyz aRe Us, or simply Toyz (like Geoffrey the Giraffe? Get it?)—doesn’t seem to mind.
As famed hip-hop photographer Martha Cooper will later point out, Toyz tends to stand out from the crowd. She’ll be referring to the fact that his bright yellow shirt makes for better pictures than the drab colors worn by other b-boys. But her words ring true in other regards as well. C’mon, it’s Martha Cooper.
Besides, aside from his shirt, Toyz is as distinguishable for what he lacks as much as what he has.
In conversation, he displays little pretense—far from the usual gruff b-boy aloofness—as he excitedly greets friends by name. Absent are the standard foam cap and Pro-Keds. Likewise for the mean-mugging and constant cock-throwing. Any hopes of classifying him as a “style” or “power” b-boy get thrown out the window.
Instead, he speaks like the kind of intellectual-meets-smart-ass you might see in a Judd Apatow movie. During a battle, you might see him beam a widespread, cheesy smile at his opponents while they coldly stare back, emotionless.
Or Toyz may do a silly little marching dance in place. Then a dazzling display of interweaving footwork. Some crazy threading shit with his hands. ‘90s variations. A firmly clenched airchair as a closer.
But it’s not that Toyz doesn’t take himself or the culture seriously. Truth be told, he’s not even really that weird.
He’s just made a point to be comfortable with himself and with the dance. And being normal—being himself—makes him stand out in a sea of b-kids trying to become someone else.
Simple a concept as it is, he says it’s a large part of how he’s gotten invited to events like Monster Jam in Korea, IBE in the Netherlands, or Street Science, where he stands now.
“A lot of people don’t really understand the concept of having your own style – being individual,” Toyz says. “You might be able to come up with your own combo, but [many b-boys] all generally tend to move extremely similar to one another to when it comes down to the way they just carry themselves in a battle, like their character and attitude. They might have their own signature moves, but they all come in like this, and they’re all imitating particular styles they’ve seen before, or look up to, which is fine. But eventually, as you progress, you gotta realize that you just gotta be yourself.”
Toyz seems to have realized this for himself early on; he’s been making all his money through dancing since he first started b-boying at the age of 12.
“You’re not gonna get big by posting a trailer of yourself after like two years of dancing or calling out judges just because you lost.”Introduced to the dance through his brother, Toyz found inspiration in all the move-makers of the ‘90s: Style Elements, Skill Methodz, Breaks Kru, HaviKoro, Footwork Fanatix, Force Force, and of course Lionz of Zion.
In fact, later on, he’d come to be associated with a long list of crews that’s difficult to say aloud quickly without spitting a little: All Ways Rockin’, Lionz of Zion, Beat Whakz and 4F (Flying Fists From the Floor).
But even with such strong (and numerous) b-boy ties, Toyz’s stories about his friends tend to sound like just that: stories about his friends. They’re normal people who like to have a good time, even if they go by names like Toyz and Napalm and Domkey.
It’s just that when he and his friends/crewmates have a good time, sometimes it can end up on YouTube. Then a bunch of people watch it, comment, and debate a lot about Toyz’s ethnicity (he’s Korean American).
But that’s not really the point.
“A lot of kids these days grew up thinking, ‘Oh, I’m in this big crew now,’ and they think they’re famous,” Toyz says. “But just because you’re in a big crew doesn’t mean people know who you are, you know?”
How, then, did he manage to get his name out? Toyz’s method was to do nothing special, kind of, which in turn ended up equating to everything.
“The best way to get yourself known, if you want to get your name out there, is to just do your own thing,” he says. “Get out to as many battles as you can. Win, roast people. You don’t even necessarily have to win battles. If you just stand out, people will notice you.
“You’re not gonna get big by posting a trailer of yourself after like two years of dancing or calling out judges just because you lost,” he continues. “Just do your thing. Just stay humble. Just enjoy yourself. That’s the most important part. Because while you’re enjoying yourself, other people will notice. And eventually, you know, fame and fortune will follow. But for those who purposely seek it, they tend to have a much harder time—they end up bothering others around them as opposed to getting their attention ripping the cypher or just repping [their] crew name.”
toyz4
Photo by MurphYou get the feeling it’s not the first time he’s been asked that question. He does make a living answering questions.
While other 20-something-year-olds across the country are prolonging their educations in attempts to put off dealing with a dismal job market, Toyz teaches a class himself.
But there are a few items that might seem suspiciously absent from his lesson plans.
One is linked to the fact that Toyz actually looks like he’s having fun when he’s dancing.
“You see a lot of suburban cats that you know get into b-boying, and they kinda lose themselves in that character and try and act all hard and whatnot. They think they’re some tough little hoodlums,” he says. “But they’re not really that at all. In most of the cases, they probably have a really nice home, a really nice family. But then they get in the circle and try and talk all that trash and think they’re tough, but they’re not.
And the other thing? Toyz’s “nerd”-like tendencies and love for gadgets are no secret. But he’s quick to point out that a lot of this loss of originality and tendency to “front” can be attributed to technology.
“Nowadays, thanks to the internet, the moment they see one good b-boy, they all try to imitate them,” Toyz laments. “And they don’t have anyone to talk to. Or any peers to learn from. So they just sit home, watch videos, and they just bite everyone’s moves and style… They just stay trapped in a box. And they’re unable to think outside of it.”
So what, then, is it that ultimately inspires Toyz’s ability to think outside the box? Is it the anime? The girls? The chance to get flown out to countries where marijuana is legal?
“Well, I always tell other people this: I don’t wanna be the b-boy where people are like, ‘Oh, he moves just like this other guy,’” he says. “I wanna be the one where the kids go, ‘Oh, I wanna dance like him.’”
Toyz pauses briefly, perhaps realizing the irony of what he said.
Without missing a beat, he quickly adds, “Or, ‘Oh, I wanna have a crazy style that’s different from everyone else.’ That’s what motivates me in terms of my dancing
Thursday, October 1, 2009
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