Identity Version 2.0 (2007)
Personalized Web sites and all-about-me blogs - we've come a long way from a generation that didn't want to be noticed, to a generation that can't get enough attention.
I am right-handed.
I am Japanese American.
I am a third-year dental student.
I am a brother-in-law.
I am a lot of things and most of them do not have hyphens. Grammatically, the hyphen allows two words to be joined together that normally exist as separate entities.
Sometimes we use the hyphen to accentuate individual characteristics that both modify a single word - to make it unique or special.
I do not claim universal experience, but there have been many periods in my life driven by the need to be or at least to feel special. Maybe it stems from the fact the my mother taught kindergarten during my childhood years and all my deeds - great and small - were marked and rewarded with stickers and treats. In each of these periods, I wanted to be special.
Sometimes the drive was to be the best; other times it was simply to be different.
I felt that if I were just like everyone else, my life would not have meaning, distinction or individuality. Who knows where this drive comes from? It is certainly not in line with the Japanese proverb that teaches that the nail that sticks up gets hammered.
Perhaps this individualist drive is the great difference between my generation and those generations that preceded us.
For example, my mother, Shauna Ushio Frandsen, and many of her peers do not speak their parent's language. The generations that followed soon after World War II sought unity and conformity, and thus many of them did not want to stick out by speaking a "strange/foreign" language. This is not to say that Japanese culture and honor were not passed down, but rather simple outward manifestations, like language, were not. Now compare that with my generation where most of my second-generation Korean American and Chinese American classmates not only understand the languages of their parents and grandparents but speak also with great fluency.
Luckily, I was able to work in Japan as a volunteer for my church where I had the chance to pick up and learn some Japanese, but I've often felt it would be cool if my siblings, cousins, and other JA friends were fluent in Japanese like my Korean American and Chinese American counterparts. Maybe this stems from a basic desire to be different and special. Maybe I want to stick out by speaking a "strange/different" language.
My generation seeks to be special in our differences - to be individualist and distinctive. Then the question is: do we as Japanese Americans feel like minorities? To that I say emphatically, yes. Because any individual is mathematically a minority in any group larger than three.
But are we minorities in the classical sense? No. Because that would lump us into a broader, generalized, non-specific group (the type from which we are incessantly seeking to individualize ourselves).
We individualize ourselves by our music, our movies, our iPod covers, our laptops and anything else that will set us apart. Nothing makes me feel more special than introducing someone to something that I have discovered: be it a good book, a new movie or TV series, or even a restaurant. I live in a paradox where I feel different by having unique, obscure, distinct tastes, but I feel special when I can collect converts to my discoveries.
The desire to be different and special currently fuels the social networking phenomenon engulfing and igniting all persons under the age of 30 (or are under 30 at heart) within fingertips' reach of the internet. Just look at the infinite number of blog entries, member profiles and web albums showcasing this awesome and amazing vacation or that hilarious dinner party or "the best night of the year."
If we did not want to boast about the greatness of our lives, why would we continuously post and publish every intimate detail of our lives from new baking recipes to new boyfriends? My parents' tale of courtship is remarkably different - they wrote weekly letters on matching stationery interlaced by weekly two-hour phone calls on Sunday nights. Even though my sister, Jill, stumbled on these letters years later, they stayed private and personal. How different is that from my generation, where two clicks of a mouse would forward an e-mail from a friend or foe with every meticulous word of commendation or condemnation?
Everything is broadcast. Nothing is private. In this state of self-disclosure, it is disquieting to consider the horrific amount of detail flaunted by this generation that screams to the world, "Look at me! Look how cool I am! Look how special I am!" We've come a long way from a generation that did not want to be noticed to a generation that cannot get enough attention.
Gone are the days of marching in unison for the cause. Here are the days of action alerts and e-mails. Gone are the well-crafted, heartfelt letters to representatives. Here are the days of online petitions drafted by unknown, private hands at great distances from our personal needs, wants or desires.
In this environment where everything is accessible and nothing is challenging, it is not a mystery why it is getting increasingly more difficult to retain the next generation of JACLers.
Gone is the attitude of just being together is enough reason to congregate. Here is the mindset of maximizing minutes. Currently, most of the JACL activities are planned and attended by a generation that feels the need to just be together. But we, the next generation, have different needs. It is not enough just to be with other like-minded or like-experienced persons. We need more. We want more.
The JACL's current youth program is great to teach the younger children and youth taiko, ikebana or tea ceremonies, but are these activities sufficient enough to latch onto a generation that is engaging into graduate programs, managing their first professional jobs or creating new young families?
Can we as an organization supplement and harness our need to be individualistic while concomitantly participating in a united movement? We do not want to fall by the wayside. We want to succeed. We want to be involved. We want to carry the torch. But what is it that we need?
We need attention.
We need to be unique.
We need to be special.
We want to be individuals and yet ironically we don't mind being individuals with other people. Just let us be us. Let us be different. Let us feel special.
I am not proud of the fact that we are so needy. Blame Google. Blame Wikipedia. Blame Facebook. Blame MySpace or Blogger.com. But the truth is: we do need to feel special, so if you give us what we need: attention, responsibilities, stickers and treats, we will not let you down.
To order the 2007 Holiday Issue, email circulation@pacificcitizen.org.
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