What are you?

I recently attended a photo shoot for the Hapa Project, which is designed to "promote awareness and recognition" of multiracial people with some Asian descent. The idea is, they show all these pictures of people along with their handwritten responses to the question "What are you?" My favorite is one of a little kid talking about why he doesn't tell people he's part Danish.

Anyhow, I had a hard time deciding what to write...and a hard time fitting it into a half-sheet of paper. I ended up with something that was probably too long for them to use. But, in the blogging spirit of self-disclosure (and because there's a slim chance that this may be in a book someday), here's what I wrote:

I am a perpetual student and teacher, a proud American, a lover of language and languages, a budding triathlete, a Roman Catholic, a future Naval officer, a friend, a son, a grandson, a brother.

But this is the hapa project. So...

I recently got a ticket...not stopping at a stopsign on my bike. I looked at the slip the officer gave me. For "Race," he had checked "White." Just "White."

Part of me wanted to yell, "Hey! I'm Asian, too!" as he sped off in his squad car.

Only recently have I faced the fact that whatever I feel on the inside, to many people I look white. This is strange for me, because I'm much closer with my mom's family than with my dad's. I didn't know the English word for "hanakuso" until I was six, and I still don't know the English word for "shamoji."

Am I "passing"?

Note: "hanakuso" is, litterally, "nose-shit" (i.e snot)...and "shamoji" is a rice paddle/scooper thingie that, as far as I know, has no (good) English translation.

Posted 03:17 PST