So - update on my drama. Things were going fairly well, I have a decent amount of props, except - I can't find anywhere for those covering the Hispanics/Latinos/Chicanos. I was pretty prepared for not finding anything for the Inuit and easily fixed that, but this is hard.
I'm officially changing my drama to Work In Progress status. Over the winter break I want to check a more diverse area for, well, expectedly more diverse items. I'm putting a lot of money into this endeavor with the only thing received being self-satisfaction, which is payment enough, and I want to get it (gosh darnit!). So I want to do this thing right.
I'll be ready to present Tuesday night what I have. What will really be tested is the foundation of my drama, and if my idea is as meaningful and applicable to the student of today as I believe it is, then it should be adaptable and maleable to survive and fit as many changes as necessary. However, many of these changes will be temporary once I'm able to fix them to my liking and have it closer to the way I originally intended. I definitely want to perform this during APAH Month, and I'm still totally in support of some kind of day of mass exhibition of our projects during April. Maybe we could do something like UCAB does in the Sunken Gardens, or use the Lab Theatre for small performances - *something* that could get this noticed. And if we had ticket sales for anything, the money should go to IPAX I think.
So where to go from here? Well, for one thing, I'm going to do a lot of research. Maybe I'll be able to get a ride to Newport News for some props, I heard there might be some places there, but I don't know. I probably should have been more vocal about any donations you guys held meaningful that I could work in, but it's too late for right now. Maybe for April.
As for now - just gotta keep telling myself "Sí me puedo!"
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Velvet Underground
Wow, it really has been a long time since I've posted.
To start off - whether or not Todd's post on Kimchee and Chitlins was considered offensive, I pretty much agree with him. We can't base all of our actions and loyalties on the color of our skins. However, Francis' use of the word "survivalist" made me think as well. I think in an unfamiliar situation people are naturally inclined to bond to someone who looks like them. It's an animalistic survival and comfort action. But, in the case of Kimchee and Chitlins, these people were in their home city and were already comfortable with other people. And there's no excuse to give up your own beliefs, yourself, because someone tells you so - especially if it's only based on the color of your skin. And for my survivalist argument, I don't mean to say that's acceptable long-term. As an anchor, it happens. But that doesn't give a crutch to not go out and meet the other people in that group soon after.
Now -- When The Purple Settles. The critics weren't wrong when they listed "disturbing" along with all the praise. It is, but it's also so captivating, I can't even fully express what I'm thinking about it right now, I'll have to make another post about it tomorrow. But it's like just a sudden barrage of emotion and action and truth and bias and just so much of everything that it leaves you stunned, but you feel like something has changed inside you. It's like getting hit with a huge wave at the beach, but you're still left standing afterwards. That kind of violent, passionate force that leaves you breathless when the wave recedes. I'm about halfway through the play right now and every time I have to put it down for whatever reason I feel an anxiety and loss that I'm missing it.
I'll admit, perhaps the play is not for everyone. I've talked to people who have read it before and were more thoroughly disturbed, who didn't understand it, and were just left disappointed in that way. But once you know the history and the emotion that motivates it all, it's incredible. The best way I can put it is this - the play is like blood. Some are made squeamish, others are fascinated, still others are indifferent. But there's no denying it has the essence of life in it.
To start off - whether or not Todd's post on Kimchee and Chitlins was considered offensive, I pretty much agree with him. We can't base all of our actions and loyalties on the color of our skins. However, Francis' use of the word "survivalist" made me think as well. I think in an unfamiliar situation people are naturally inclined to bond to someone who looks like them. It's an animalistic survival and comfort action. But, in the case of Kimchee and Chitlins, these people were in their home city and were already comfortable with other people. And there's no excuse to give up your own beliefs, yourself, because someone tells you so - especially if it's only based on the color of your skin. And for my survivalist argument, I don't mean to say that's acceptable long-term. As an anchor, it happens. But that doesn't give a crutch to not go out and meet the other people in that group soon after.
Now -- When The Purple Settles. The critics weren't wrong when they listed "disturbing" along with all the praise. It is, but it's also so captivating, I can't even fully express what I'm thinking about it right now, I'll have to make another post about it tomorrow. But it's like just a sudden barrage of emotion and action and truth and bias and just so much of everything that it leaves you stunned, but you feel like something has changed inside you. It's like getting hit with a huge wave at the beach, but you're still left standing afterwards. That kind of violent, passionate force that leaves you breathless when the wave recedes. I'm about halfway through the play right now and every time I have to put it down for whatever reason I feel an anxiety and loss that I'm missing it.
I'll admit, perhaps the play is not for everyone. I've talked to people who have read it before and were more thoroughly disturbed, who didn't understand it, and were just left disappointed in that way. But once you know the history and the emotion that motivates it all, it's incredible. The best way I can put it is this - the play is like blood. Some are made squeamish, others are fascinated, still others are indifferent. But there's no denying it has the essence of life in it.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
A little killer's kiss
Label me imperialist, but I have to be honest, and I'm certain you'll concede; when I saw M. Butterfly for the first time on Monday, my first thought was a phrase from Lincoln's Gettysburg Address: "...It is altogether fitting..."
The story wasn't "beautiful," just as Madama Butterfly really isn't, but it wasn't necessarily the opposite and "ugly." It wasn't an aesthetic beauty that the film had, but a purity of justice done. It was real, moreso by the fact that it was based on a true story.
I wasn't really shaken from a comfort zone concerning the plot and the end. I hope that many of us weren't, as a result of Francis's guidance and our own questing. I would be more upset if the end were still the same as Madama Butterfly, leaning toward absolutely pissed that the director would undermine his whole endeavor, and I was glad that it ended the way it did, if only for plot justice. I'm not one to wish bad things on people generally, so I only say I'm glad for the plot, not the truth of the events. But this film is certainly one to challenge a person, and I sincerely hope more people will be challenged to change their views by watching it.
Where is the hope? There is some satisfaction in Butterfly's achievements as far as she's concerned; limiting the interval of our graph of view, as it were. Despite what she caused for other people, she did what she thought was right for China and for her comrades at home and abroad. That kind of loyalty to a cause has to be admired somewhat - especially to remain loyal after being imprisoned as a free-thinker of the theatre. Butterfly is a beacon of hope to show that Asians, and any race, "minority" or imposed upon in their own country, don't have to be subservient to the white man. They have their own power - they just have to discover and use it. Furthermore, the white man has been brought down to a more real level too. He's just as human as anyone, not above anyone, and can also be enthralled and captivated by others' power. It's really very much what Francis has said before, to apply this more modernly - to shed the burden of the label of being a "minority," don't act like a "minority." Act like you have the authority and the power, the right to be an equal individual - because you certainly do.
"Remember always that you not only have the right to be an individual, you have an obligation to be one."
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
-Eleanor Roosevelt
The story wasn't "beautiful," just as Madama Butterfly really isn't, but it wasn't necessarily the opposite and "ugly." It wasn't an aesthetic beauty that the film had, but a purity of justice done. It was real, moreso by the fact that it was based on a true story.
I wasn't really shaken from a comfort zone concerning the plot and the end. I hope that many of us weren't, as a result of Francis's guidance and our own questing. I would be more upset if the end were still the same as Madama Butterfly, leaning toward absolutely pissed that the director would undermine his whole endeavor, and I was glad that it ended the way it did, if only for plot justice. I'm not one to wish bad things on people generally, so I only say I'm glad for the plot, not the truth of the events. But this film is certainly one to challenge a person, and I sincerely hope more people will be challenged to change their views by watching it.
Where is the hope? There is some satisfaction in Butterfly's achievements as far as she's concerned; limiting the interval of our graph of view, as it were. Despite what she caused for other people, she did what she thought was right for China and for her comrades at home and abroad. That kind of loyalty to a cause has to be admired somewhat - especially to remain loyal after being imprisoned as a free-thinker of the theatre. Butterfly is a beacon of hope to show that Asians, and any race, "minority" or imposed upon in their own country, don't have to be subservient to the white man. They have their own power - they just have to discover and use it. Furthermore, the white man has been brought down to a more real level too. He's just as human as anyone, not above anyone, and can also be enthralled and captivated by others' power. It's really very much what Francis has said before, to apply this more modernly - to shed the burden of the label of being a "minority," don't act like a "minority." Act like you have the authority and the power, the right to be an equal individual - because you certainly do.
"Remember always that you not only have the right to be an individual, you have an obligation to be one."
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
-Eleanor Roosevelt
Monday, November 5, 2007
Alien Exploration
As I'm reading chapter 6 of Takaki's book and trying to catch up with my classmates, I realize that some things Takaki discusses really haven't changed much. In the second paragraph of this chapter, Takaki mentions that as Chinese Americans became increasingly urban and isolated from the rest of American society, their city communities became places of tourism for curious whites. This subsequently brought about a new industry in such communities - that of taking advantage of the tourism and bringing in money by entertaining the whites, like a circus. The last line of that paragraph says, "Tourism became a new 'necessity,' reinforcing both the image and condition of the Chinese as 'strangers' in America."
I read this and I realized that, despite all of our professed "progress," this view and tourism still exist. People still go to Chinatowns for the food, the architecture, the shopping. And it's not bad to take or give money to a place because that boosts its economy, however the Chinatowns and other ethnic areas of cities were not intended for that kind of industry. They were residential and community business areas. People at William & Mary may try to understand by having Colonial Williamsburg nearby and seeing a lot of tourists, but that's really not the same. Colonial Williamsburg was intended to be a tourist attraction, not an original, normal way of life that ended up being entertaining to foreigners to the community. (Oh em gee, imagine your white self being a foreigner somewhere in your own country! Think about it a second). The ethnic communities were there because the immigrants were forced there, isolated from the rest of white America.
But Francis would want to know where the hope is, so let's slingshot forward with this information instead of being depressed.
I'm not scolding anyone for going to an ethnic area of a city. At times, I'll certainly encourage it - you can get the real food of the culture if you look in the right places, and not the frozen-food aisle American knockoffs. You can get books and other things that would otherwise be hard to find, or would be much more expensive from a huge American name like Barnes & Noble. The thing to change is the view on going. You can't go with the idea of tourism totally taking up your mind. These people are just living their lives and you're visiting the area, it's not their job to keep you amused. It's just like visiting family in another state and going to that town's particular flea markets or whatever - things for the community, not made for outsiders but open to them if they so desire to take part.
The hope is that these cultures are finally starting to get even more integrated into the overall mix of American culture. You don't need to go all over the place to get Pocky, you can now find it in Shop-Rite and Saturday Matinee, Hot Topic, other easily accessible stores. Manga, Manhua, and Manhwa can be found in Barnes & Noble and Borders across the country. While large chains of grocery stores such as A&P and Food Lion still don't carry the best ethnic foods, they're trying, and they're getting better. Shop-Rites probably lead the way there, and I would assume that King's would rank highly as well. While ethnic foods are sometimes separated off from the rest of the store's goods, making them still "other" and "foreign," there's still a start that they're there. Accessibility is one step in the right direction toward bringing in what was "foreign" and making it a part of "home."
I read this and I realized that, despite all of our professed "progress," this view and tourism still exist. People still go to Chinatowns for the food, the architecture, the shopping. And it's not bad to take or give money to a place because that boosts its economy, however the Chinatowns and other ethnic areas of cities were not intended for that kind of industry. They were residential and community business areas. People at William & Mary may try to understand by having Colonial Williamsburg nearby and seeing a lot of tourists, but that's really not the same. Colonial Williamsburg was intended to be a tourist attraction, not an original, normal way of life that ended up being entertaining to foreigners to the community. (Oh em gee, imagine your white self being a foreigner somewhere in your own country! Think about it a second). The ethnic communities were there because the immigrants were forced there, isolated from the rest of white America.
But Francis would want to know where the hope is, so let's slingshot forward with this information instead of being depressed.
I'm not scolding anyone for going to an ethnic area of a city. At times, I'll certainly encourage it - you can get the real food of the culture if you look in the right places, and not the frozen-food aisle American knockoffs. You can get books and other things that would otherwise be hard to find, or would be much more expensive from a huge American name like Barnes & Noble. The thing to change is the view on going. You can't go with the idea of tourism totally taking up your mind. These people are just living their lives and you're visiting the area, it's not their job to keep you amused. It's just like visiting family in another state and going to that town's particular flea markets or whatever - things for the community, not made for outsiders but open to them if they so desire to take part.
The hope is that these cultures are finally starting to get even more integrated into the overall mix of American culture. You don't need to go all over the place to get Pocky, you can now find it in Shop-Rite and Saturday Matinee, Hot Topic, other easily accessible stores. Manga, Manhua, and Manhwa can be found in Barnes & Noble and Borders across the country. While large chains of grocery stores such as A&P and Food Lion still don't carry the best ethnic foods, they're trying, and they're getting better. Shop-Rites probably lead the way there, and I would assume that King's would rank highly as well. While ethnic foods are sometimes separated off from the rest of the store's goods, making them still "other" and "foreign," there's still a start that they're there. Accessibility is one step in the right direction toward bringing in what was "foreign" and making it a part of "home."
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Kokoro
A post that's been long overdue.
After reading Kokoro, Francis brought to our attention (not for the first time) that "there must be hope." Just as we've been seeing in Takaki, there must be hope - these people are coming to America and staying in America, despite hardship, and why? "There must be something good!" And so Francis's question was, "Where is the hope? What is the hope?"
Someone suggested that the hope within the work was the fact that Yasako was dealt a lesser sentence by the court, but that fell short. Someone else noted that there was hope in Yasako's decision to live rather than attempt suicide again.
I think the hope in the work is multi-faceted -- but I am aligned with Francis in questioning the "hope" of the American judicial system within the drama. And I have to say, it's my opinion that the hope has nothing to do with her punishment or the "leniency" of the jury. I think the hope is very personal and centers around Yasako herself, not the "system" that works upon her.
I think that the hope is really Yasako discovering a new identity for herself. In the beginning, she was a lost Japanese woman thrown into American society without much help from her husband at all. He scolded her for being so isolated, but didn't ease her trouble with starting relationships - it was like taking a plant from one garden and tossing it on top of the dirt of a new one, then telling it to grow its roots just as well without actually digging it in. At the end, Yasako makes her own decision for herself, and her identity grows and becomes more solid in this foreign land. She doesn't become totally "American" overnight and lose all of her honor and traditional dignity like Shizuko, but she becomes strong enough that she could survive. In a way, it's the hope of being neither the extreme "Japanese in America" nor the "American 'from Asia' ," but starting to integrate and be a part of the comfortable middle ground of "Asian American." There's the hope that it is possible to be both, you don't have to give up everything and demand all the more like Shizuko, you don't have to cut yourself off as a "stranger from another shore" -- you can be both and combine both.
Yasako ends up being strong enough that she is "to her husband's tastes" and she could keep him if she wants. He obviously does love her, but felt her traditional ways held him back - he wanted to be more American (which isn't really an excuse). He did go back to her from Shizuko and worked so hard to sway the people for her cause, probably being the biggest contribution to the lesser sentence. She could keep him to her now if she really wanted to. But Yasako's strength also enables her to let him go if she wanted to - she could survive emotionally on her own. It would be hard after everything, but she could do it. And there's related hope in that, too. She can make her own decisions for herself - not to fit to peoples' expectations of her, not to please the ancestors or blend in with an ethnic crowd (Asian or Caucasian), but to do what she wants to do for herself. There's freedom. There's hope.
After reading Kokoro, Francis brought to our attention (not for the first time) that "there must be hope." Just as we've been seeing in Takaki, there must be hope - these people are coming to America and staying in America, despite hardship, and why? "There must be something good!" And so Francis's question was, "Where is the hope? What is the hope?"
Someone suggested that the hope within the work was the fact that Yasako was dealt a lesser sentence by the court, but that fell short. Someone else noted that there was hope in Yasako's decision to live rather than attempt suicide again.
I think the hope in the work is multi-faceted -- but I am aligned with Francis in questioning the "hope" of the American judicial system within the drama. And I have to say, it's my opinion that the hope has nothing to do with her punishment or the "leniency" of the jury. I think the hope is very personal and centers around Yasako herself, not the "system" that works upon her.
I think that the hope is really Yasako discovering a new identity for herself. In the beginning, she was a lost Japanese woman thrown into American society without much help from her husband at all. He scolded her for being so isolated, but didn't ease her trouble with starting relationships - it was like taking a plant from one garden and tossing it on top of the dirt of a new one, then telling it to grow its roots just as well without actually digging it in. At the end, Yasako makes her own decision for herself, and her identity grows and becomes more solid in this foreign land. She doesn't become totally "American" overnight and lose all of her honor and traditional dignity like Shizuko, but she becomes strong enough that she could survive. In a way, it's the hope of being neither the extreme "Japanese in America" nor the "American 'from Asia' ," but starting to integrate and be a part of the comfortable middle ground of "Asian American." There's the hope that it is possible to be both, you don't have to give up everything and demand all the more like Shizuko, you don't have to cut yourself off as a "stranger from another shore" -- you can be both and combine both.
Yasako ends up being strong enough that she is "to her husband's tastes" and she could keep him if she wants. He obviously does love her, but felt her traditional ways held him back - he wanted to be more American (which isn't really an excuse). He did go back to her from Shizuko and worked so hard to sway the people for her cause, probably being the biggest contribution to the lesser sentence. She could keep him to her now if she really wanted to. But Yasako's strength also enables her to let him go if she wanted to - she could survive emotionally on her own. It would be hard after everything, but she could do it. And there's related hope in that, too. She can make her own decisions for herself - not to fit to peoples' expectations of her, not to please the ancestors or blend in with an ethnic crowd (Asian or Caucasian), but to do what she wants to do for herself. There's freedom. There's hope.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Electric Rabbit Street
I am repeatedly incensed by the absolute stupidity of the claim that Asian immigrants are "unassimilable." The idea's whole "support" and "reinforcement" of its "truth" stemmed from white racism in the first place! The "strangers" were discriminated against just because they were not white and they were forced to rely on each other for anything, for opportunities and for protection. And then they were labeled as "unassimilable" because they had such clannish ways and weren't integrated! THEY WERE KEPT FROM INTEGRATION! This kind of roundabout "reasoning" doesn't get anyone anywhere and just reinforces hostility.
And then there's the question of the definition of citizenship in the late 19th century, early 20th century. For some reason, despite whatever other values or qualities of a person, citizenship hinged on whether or not one was Caucasian - or, at least, that was whenever one of Asiatic descent applied and brought the issue to court (see U.S. Supreme Court case Takao Ozawa v. United States). HOWEVER, after the Civil War, after being liberated from slavery, blacks were considered citizens.
White bigots of the time could argue that the Constitution "technically says" that all persons *born* in the United States were citizens and could vote, etc., and that Japanese-Americans *were* citizens, just not the newcoming immigrants. However, the point here is this -- if that is the true 14th Amendment, then where on earth does the color of one's skin come into play? It really doesn't, does it? One can't say you can't be a citizen unless you're white, but you can be a citizen if you're black - it's a blatant contradiction, and makes it even more obvious that the target was not just those who were "different," but those who were Asian. You can't have it both ways. Being Caucasian never was part of the criteria for citizenship as far as the backbone of American law goes in the first place.
On a final note - Theodore Roosevelt is such a fence-rider. He "personally favored the restriction of japanese immigration," has a number of prejudices, prevents persons immigrating from Hawaii to the mainland in California, "became increasingly shrill in his advocacy of Japanese exclusion" after leaving the presidency, AND YET despite all his personal issues with the Japanese and his personal support for their segregation in schools, in 1906 he recommends legislation to extend naturalized citizenship to the Issei "aliens" ! Is it just a "president thing" to try to have your cake and eat it too all the time? I can understand that a lot of the time he was trying to appease Japan and maintain peace between their country and the United States, but sometimes... even that's a stretch for some of his reasoning.
For anyone's personal enjoyment, p. 195 of Takaki's book has an allusion to Rime of the Ancient Mariner - or, rather, an allusion to another allusion. Abiko Kyutaro, publisher of the newspapaer Nichibei Shimbun, used the parallel that "as dekaseginin [sojourners], Issei were placing an albatross around their own necks" - or, that they were painting a bullseye on their chest as a target for "justified" discrimination for taking America's resources and then leaving, rather than coming with the goal of being an American and settling (how Abiko thought they could gain more favor in the country). Abiko was a very intelligent man to put this together. If only things actually worked that way - he was right, the whites claimed their anger and label of Japanese/Asian "unassimilability" came from the dekaseginin view; however, that evolved into a more complex, deeper aversion to Asian immigrants in general, and no matter how open such "strangers" were to assimilation, they would be barred from it and subsequently blamed for their failure by the same obstacles.
And then there's the question of the definition of citizenship in the late 19th century, early 20th century. For some reason, despite whatever other values or qualities of a person, citizenship hinged on whether or not one was Caucasian - or, at least, that was whenever one of Asiatic descent applied and brought the issue to court (see U.S. Supreme Court case Takao Ozawa v. United States). HOWEVER, after the Civil War, after being liberated from slavery, blacks were considered citizens.
White bigots of the time could argue that the Constitution "technically says" that all persons *born* in the United States were citizens and could vote, etc., and that Japanese-Americans *were* citizens, just not the newcoming immigrants. However, the point here is this -- if that is the true 14th Amendment, then where on earth does the color of one's skin come into play? It really doesn't, does it? One can't say you can't be a citizen unless you're white, but you can be a citizen if you're black - it's a blatant contradiction, and makes it even more obvious that the target was not just those who were "different," but those who were Asian. You can't have it both ways. Being Caucasian never was part of the criteria for citizenship as far as the backbone of American law goes in the first place.
On a final note - Theodore Roosevelt is such a fence-rider. He "personally favored the restriction of japanese immigration," has a number of prejudices, prevents persons immigrating from Hawaii to the mainland in California, "became increasingly shrill in his advocacy of Japanese exclusion" after leaving the presidency, AND YET despite all his personal issues with the Japanese and his personal support for their segregation in schools, in 1906 he recommends legislation to extend naturalized citizenship to the Issei "aliens" ! Is it just a "president thing" to try to have your cake and eat it too all the time? I can understand that a lot of the time he was trying to appease Japan and maintain peace between their country and the United States, but sometimes... even that's a stretch for some of his reasoning.
For anyone's personal enjoyment, p. 195 of Takaki's book has an allusion to Rime of the Ancient Mariner - or, rather, an allusion to another allusion. Abiko Kyutaro, publisher of the newspapaer Nichibei Shimbun, used the parallel that "as dekaseginin [sojourners], Issei were placing an albatross around their own necks" - or, that they were painting a bullseye on their chest as a target for "justified" discrimination for taking America's resources and then leaving, rather than coming with the goal of being an American and settling (how Abiko thought they could gain more favor in the country). Abiko was a very intelligent man to put this together. If only things actually worked that way - he was right, the whites claimed their anger and label of Japanese/Asian "unassimilability" came from the dekaseginin view; however, that evolved into a more complex, deeper aversion to Asian immigrants in general, and no matter how open such "strangers" were to assimilation, they would be barred from it and subsequently blamed for their failure by the same obstacles.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Cyclone
Our crew just watched the film "Picture Bride." This movie is an absolute must-see, it brings all of the history we've been reading about and talking about to life. It will make you cry. Don't just brush it off and say you "can't" watch it, you "don't like sad movies," this is a movie about life. Challenge yourself. You won't be disappointed.
The film revolves around a Japanese picture bride, Ryo, who leaves her homeland for Hawaii, wed to a cane-harvester there, and her subsequent experiences. But it's so much more meaningful than I can describe for you here.
However, this post is very much an analysis of the work, so I suggest you go watch the film now and come back to read this afterwards. And, if you do go ahead, I hope you won't reconsider and will still watch the film anyway. It's something you need to experience yourself.
SPOILERS
When Francis told us that the film would make us cry, I didn't doubt it, and I know I started to a bit. It really brought to life everything we've been doing for the past few weeks. Takaki utilizes names and relations in his writing to link us to the subject, and I believe the film was even more poignant to this end - as Francis says, humans are visual beings. But what he really wanted us to write about with this was "why?" Why was it made the way it was, what was significant?
What was stabbing was that he asked us, "Why did Kana and Kei have to die?" There was an emphasis, why was it so important to the film,
"Why did Kana and Kei have to die?"
I looked up information on the meanings of the names Kana and Kei and came up with some ideas. Don't chain me down absolutely to the meanings, I don't know if they're right since a few were different, but I'll try to list as many variations as I can.
Kei I've found to mean "child," "wisdom," and "rapture, reverence" in Japanese (supposedly). In Hawaiian it can be "dignified." Kei certainly is just a child, and is very much Kana's life. Kana's name and its relationship to the film is much more obvious. The information I found labeled it a male name in Japan, and means "powerful." Kana certainly was very very strong, and noticed for it, and even her husband was jealous that she could work more than he could (or would). The word "kana" has also been used in general to mean the Japanese syllabry system(s) - the newer hiragana, katakana, and sometimes the old system man'yogana.
Perhaps their deaths represented a loss, somewhat, of the link to Japanese heritage. A loss of language, the eventual loss of appreciation for the homeland as later generations became "Americanized." Even in the film, when the overseer is talking to the workers, he combines English with Japanese, Hawaiian, and Tagalog into one mixed way of communication. The workers do the same - for example, Ryo's confusion over "hana" - Hawaiian "work," "hana-hana," as opposed to Japanese "flower," "hana."
Also, one of the main themes of the women's singing was "not becoming the fertilizer" for the cane. They all had hopes and dreams of eventually leaving the plantation. But, as illustrated by Kana and Kei's death in the harvesting fire, people did become the fertilizer - sometimes not so literally, but it was probably not uncommon. It brings you back to the reality from the intrigue of the romance sub-plot, that these things happened and people died on the plantations. In general, no matter the exact circumstances, many of the immigrants did not ever see their homelands again, nor did many of them really achieve their true aspirations, such as getting off the plantations or fulfilling their lives a certain way in America. Even as entrepreneurs, many Asian immigrants were forced into jobs like laundries because there wasn't much else.
Once again, humans are visual beings. The parallels and hat-tips to real stories, as well as these symbolic deaths, really bring the history to life and to the forefront of our minds. It establishes a link with these other human beings and spreads out to the people around you every day, people just like you.
The film revolves around a Japanese picture bride, Ryo, who leaves her homeland for Hawaii, wed to a cane-harvester there, and her subsequent experiences. But it's so much more meaningful than I can describe for you here.
However, this post is very much an analysis of the work, so I suggest you go watch the film now and come back to read this afterwards. And, if you do go ahead, I hope you won't reconsider and will still watch the film anyway. It's something you need to experience yourself.
SPOILERS
When Francis told us that the film would make us cry, I didn't doubt it, and I know I started to a bit. It really brought to life everything we've been doing for the past few weeks. Takaki utilizes names and relations in his writing to link us to the subject, and I believe the film was even more poignant to this end - as Francis says, humans are visual beings. But what he really wanted us to write about with this was "why?" Why was it made the way it was, what was significant?
What was stabbing was that he asked us, "Why did Kana and Kei have to die?" There was an emphasis, why was it so important to the film,
"Why did Kana and Kei have to die?"
I looked up information on the meanings of the names Kana and Kei and came up with some ideas. Don't chain me down absolutely to the meanings, I don't know if they're right since a few were different, but I'll try to list as many variations as I can.
Kei I've found to mean "child," "wisdom," and "rapture, reverence" in Japanese (supposedly). In Hawaiian it can be "dignified." Kei certainly is just a child, and is very much Kana's life. Kana's name and its relationship to the film is much more obvious. The information I found labeled it a male name in Japan, and means "powerful." Kana certainly was very very strong, and noticed for it, and even her husband was jealous that she could work more than he could (or would). The word "kana" has also been used in general to mean the Japanese syllabry system(s) - the newer hiragana, katakana, and sometimes the old system man'yogana.
Perhaps their deaths represented a loss, somewhat, of the link to Japanese heritage. A loss of language, the eventual loss of appreciation for the homeland as later generations became "Americanized." Even in the film, when the overseer is talking to the workers, he combines English with Japanese, Hawaiian, and Tagalog into one mixed way of communication. The workers do the same - for example, Ryo's confusion over "hana" - Hawaiian "work," "hana-hana," as opposed to Japanese "flower," "hana."
Also, one of the main themes of the women's singing was "not becoming the fertilizer" for the cane. They all had hopes and dreams of eventually leaving the plantation. But, as illustrated by Kana and Kei's death in the harvesting fire, people did become the fertilizer - sometimes not so literally, but it was probably not uncommon. It brings you back to the reality from the intrigue of the romance sub-plot, that these things happened and people died on the plantations. In general, no matter the exact circumstances, many of the immigrants did not ever see their homelands again, nor did many of them really achieve their true aspirations, such as getting off the plantations or fulfilling their lives a certain way in America. Even as entrepreneurs, many Asian immigrants were forced into jobs like laundries because there wasn't much else.
Once again, humans are visual beings. The parallels and hat-tips to real stories, as well as these symbolic deaths, really bring the history to life and to the forefront of our minds. It establishes a link with these other human beings and spreads out to the people around you every day, people just like you.
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