The Salt Collective: Embracing Being the Token

The Salt Collective: Embracing Being the Token

Today I’m over at the SALT Collective!

“I am the only one. On most committees or organizations, I am usually the only one. The only woman. The only young person. The only racial “minority.” The only liberal. And most recently, the only mother with young children. It was something I grew accustomed to rather quickly, this being the token fill-in-the-blank.”

This was the opening to the chapter I wrote in Streams Run Uphill: Conversations with Clergywomen of Color. A book full of theological, sociological, cultural reflections on the experience of clergywomen of color I had the privilege of editing turned into continuous fodder for my own reflection on the complicated intersections of race, gender, economics, and more.

Being a Presbyterian minister now for over ten years I’ve spent much time struggling to articulate what it means to be the token, a standout and a novelty – a Korean American clergywoman. Though I’ve come to feel comfortable in my clergy-skin teaching, leading worship, administering sacraments, and preaching from the pulpit, I still wrestle with the gaze of the wider public when I am out and about with my collar on. The white tab in the center of my neck surrounded by the somber black seems to cause a double-take by those who walk by me. It’s the clash of the traditional images of the office with the (relative) youthfulness of my face, my being a woman, and my East Asian heritage that perhaps elicits this response.

But, I haven’t always worn a collar – it’s not terribly common attire for Presbyterian clergy. Generally, Presbyterians like to blend in a little more.

I chose to wear one because I wanted to stand out.

Read the rest at the SALT Collective.

Killjoy Prophets, Asian America, Evangelicalism (Part 2)


In seminary I took a course called Cultural Hermeneutics team-taught by two professors. One would go on to become one of my favorite teachers and the other would become my senior thesis advisor. A close friend, at the time and now, Erica Liu, along with a handful of other Asian Americans and I sat eagerly looking through the syllabus on that first day of class. We would be introduced to African American, Latin@, African, and Asian frameworks for reading the Bible and doing theology. But…where was the section on Asian American hermeneutics? It would be an understatement to say we felt let down.

But, the professors were both very open to revising the syllabus right away and added a section including some relatively new resources by Asian American theologians. This is what made me love and respect these teachers – their willingness to listen to us, and even be changed by our stories and questions. What’s more – they gave us a platform to present as a group at the end of the semester so we could speak directly from our own contexts. We were grateful for this opportunity.

Since then for well over ten years the syllabus for the class has continued to include Asian American voices. Nevertheless, the struggle to chisel out space for Asian American histories and stories in the here and now remains very real. Everything from the impact of cultural assimilation to the insidious tenacity of orientalism to the pitting of Asian groups against one another to the problem of the continuous exportation of Western values remain as barriers to the development of authentic and genuine Asia America. What’s more is that all these are perpetuated by the institution of the church, and even more specifically, the evangelical church, not only as instruments of coercion and oppression but part of the larger power of empire and white supremacy.

“… the connection between imperial politics and culture is astonishingly direct. American attitudes to American ‘greatness,’ to hierarchies of race, to the perils of ‘other’ revolutions (the American revolution being considered unique and somehow unrepeatable anywhere else in the world) have remained constant, have dictated, have obscured, the realities of empire, while apologists for overseas American interests have insisted on American innocence, doing good, fighting for freedom.” – Edward Said

Orientalism: We Aren’t Rugs

For some reason the term “oriental,” as a label for those of Asian descent continues to remain in the vernacular of US American culture whether it is the 80 year old grandmother making a side comment about the dry cleaners or the college freshmen from small town USA talking about the international student that sold her a mattress. Often, the simplest explanation is the persistence of objects and products like “oriental rugs,” which for some reason excuses this terrible throwback to marginalizing Asians and Asian descendants.

Oh, but we aren’t being racist when we use this term for rugs and food. However, the reality remains that the very essence of orientalism is present even in these seemingly innocuous remarks: It is “the perspective that these societies are static and undeveloped—thereby fabricating a view of ‘Oriental culture’ that can be studied, depicted, and reproduced. Implicit in this fabrication, writes Said, is the idea that Western society is developed, rational, flexible, and superior.” (From good ol’ Wikipedia). Likewise, Andrea Smith echoes this in her analysis of white supremacy: “The logic of Orientalism marks certain peoples or nations as inferior and as posing a constant threat to the well-being of empire. These peoples are still seen as “civilizations”-they are not property or “disappeared”-however, they will always be imaged as permanent foreign threats to empire,” (From her chapter “Heteropatriarchy and the Three Pillars of White Supremacy”). What this means is that Asians, by virtue of being forever foreign, and thus a threat to US empire, they are often depersonalized and subject to emotional, spiritual, and yes, even physical violence by all of Western society.

It is the church that often feels and acts inculpable when it comes to perpetuating orientalist attitudes. Everything from Rickshaw Rally to Rick Warren shows that the undercurrent of racism remains as it manifests itself in Christian culture. And yet, the prolongation of orientalism does not simply impact Asian American identity because it is about the way race is constructed at all levels. To reiterate from the last piece: “Asian American identity development is key in understanding racialization and cultural identity, however it oftentimes gets us stuck within the subordinated subject-position in location to whiteness. It is easier to say what we are not than continue moving on to tease out what we actually embody. Part of moving forward is unlocking that subject position to understand how racial hierarchy models are not horizontal. Our experiences as Asian Americans are not comparative to non-Asian people of color, but relative in social location.”

Why do we continue to speak of the effects of orientalism? Because the experience of depersonalization – objectification, subjugation, and the basic stripping away of dignity remains as Asian Americans continue to be seen as projects and products of the Christian cultural machine. These effects are present even in the most well-intentioned communities that have committees that act like keepers of the quotas and focus on representation within institutions of whiteness and white supremacist frameworks. The vestiges of orientalism exist in the myth of Asian Americans as the model minority.

Frank Wu describes this phenomenon, writing that the phrase “You Asians are all doing well anyway” summarizes the model minority myth, which is the dominant image of Asians in the United States. As a group, besides being intelligent, gifted in math and science, polite, and hardworking, we are seen as being extremely family oriented, law abiding, and successfully entrepreneurial. Asian American historians write that this portrayal began in the mid-1960s, a time of massive racial upheaval. The term was first used by the press to depict Japanese Americans who struggled to enter the mainstream of American life and to laud Chinese Americans for their remarkable accomplishments.

According to Helen Zia, as this new stereotype emerged on the American scene, Asian Americans became increasingly the object of “flattering” media stories. After more than a century of invisibility alternating with virulent headlines that advocated eliminating or imprisoning America’s Asians, a rash of stories began to extol our virtues. Thus the model minority myth was born. This label filtered into college textbooks where it further promoted this image of Asian Americans as minorities who “made it” in this “land of opportunity.”

As discussed earlier: In order to truly reject the model minority myth, Asian Americans need to decenter whiteness in racial justice activism. It is more helpful to understand that despite these “positive” stereotypes of Asian Americans they have only been created to juxtapose the negative stereotypes attributed to Black people. Positive stereotypes were created to justify the logics of racism, by attributing success of a minority group to cultural factors…Asian American stereotypes are a result of white imagination, and black stereotypes being one manifestation of the afterlife of slavery; a way to blame Black people for their own struggles rather than understanding how the state has embedded anti-blackness into the very foundation of the U.S.

The harder question – how does this implicate our church communities?

Missionary Position: Saving Our Souls

Erica Liu, campus pastor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, wrote a paper on the context of second generation Asian American ministries while she was a seminary student. According to her research what was happening in the U.S. was an extension of what was happening abroad in the countries of origin of many Asian Americans. “Evangelicals hit Asians on both sides of the Pacific Ocean as they proselytized the Asians.” All of it was couched in the language of mission – salvation and conversion. But, there wasn’t just a religious agenda, there was a cultural one, too.

She writes:

…Christian missionaries went abroad to bring the gospel to Asians. After cheap labor became unnecessary, anti-Asian sentiment became more intense and laws were passed by the U.S. government which not only discriminated against Asian Americans but prevented Asian immigrants from entering. However, this did not deter the missionaries as they created societies which sent them into China, Korea, and Taiwan. The impact that these missionaries had upon later Asian immigrants is discussed by Rudy Busto as he reiterates the work of Karl Fung:

These conservative evangelical immigrants from Hong Kong and Taiwan, Fung observes, came out of a history of intense conservative Christian foreign mission work and were strongly attached to the “absolute authority and clear direction” of evangelicalism in the wake of massive social upheaval after the communist takeover of China in 1949 ((Busto, Rudy V. “The Gospel According to the Model Minority?: Hazarding an Interpretation of Asian American Evangelical College Students.” Amerasia Journal (Vol. 22, No. 1), edited by Russell C. Leong. Los Angeles: Asian American Studies Center, University of California at Los Angeles, 1996, 136.)

The double-pronged missionary work abroad and in the US reinforced this evangelical culture – the music, the Jesus-language and just-prayers, and narrow theological view of humanity and God. In the US the impact of evangelicalism on Asian Americans served to essentially “white-wash” the communities so that their ministries mimicked white evangelical communities to a tee. This forces us to question whether or not becoming Christian is synonymous to becoming white.

Liu goes on: “Chang states, At Yale, the Campus Crusade for Christ, which was 100 percent white in the ‘80s, is now 90 percent Asian. The InterVarsity Christian Fellowship at Stanford has become almost totally Asian, while at Harvard it is increasingly common to spot t-shirts proudly emblazoned with “The Asian Awakening.” On many campuses, Asian Christian gatherings have even become a standard part of the undergraduate social experience. Not only have evangelical groups succeeded in bringing Asian Americans in their fold, but they have made them into one of their strongest groups of evangelizers. Chang notes that, “Asian American students have become the targets of choice for Christian missionaries of all stripes.” IVCF hosts a mission conference every three years called Urbana which focuses on encouraging college students to become missionaries and evangelizers. When it started in 1946 there were few Asian American students in attendance, but in 2000, 5067 Asian students (26.9% of the total) were counted. The success which evangelical Christianity has had amongst Asian American college students can be seen by the sheer number of Asian Christian associations which exist on campuses (for instance, Berkeley has 64 according to Chang).”

In other words, conversion is a tool of exceptionalism.

The myth of exceptionalism is certainly present in evangelical communities. Asian Americans are expected not only to be extremely biblically literate, but leaders, and within Asian American evangelical communities this is present in the hierarchy of roles especially rooted in gender. Whatever the successes the colonialistic perspective is that Asian Americans are a successful project. We make institutions look good. We make churches look good. We make America look good. We bring surface level diversity within a  multiculturalist project.

Whether the conversion happens here or abroad it is analogous to (religious) colonization. I am influenced by Frantz Fanon, a postcolonial revolutionary and psychologist whose racialized identity began with a conception of himself as French as he had grown up in the French colony of Martinique until he moved to France and discovered that he was not seen as French but as black. It was the language that had larger implications for his consciousness: “To speak … means above all to assume a culture, to support the weight of a civilization” (Black Skin White Masks 17). Likewise, evangelicalism has required a specific language and to “speak” it gives the Christian follower a sense of belonging. When the Asian American enters into a predominantly white Christian evangelical community where her legitimacy is questioned she can only prove herself by proficiently speaking the language.

What Fanon’s analysis of race, colonialism and orientalism gives us is the psychological effects of subjugation through language. The internalization of culture and power relationships through language has a deeper effect on the colonized mind, and it is the more subtle and insidious structure of language that binds those outside the dominant group. For Asian American women there is the double bondage of race and gender that creates a unique experience of oppression. The evangelical language of submission is reinforced by continuous sexualization – both overtly and implicitly – of Asian American women, and even in those communities that profess to be progressive and open, the biggest transgressions often seem to be when there is an attempt to broaden conversations but this meant stepping out of the expectation of being quiet, submissive, and amicable. Ultimately, evangelical language and culture ends up being the opposite of redemptive and transformative – it dehumanizes – but not only those in “minority” groups, it dilutes the humanity of those in the dominant group, too.

“If you have come here to help me, then you are wasting your time…But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”

-Lila Watson

Asian American Assimilation: Are We White Enough?

What is it about evangelicalism that historically seems to attract Asian Americans? Theories range from ties to Confucian culture to the space given to be emotive to the ease in which Asians were able to conform to wider American culture.

Whether it is joining a white evangelical ministry or being part of an Asian American evangelical community the end result is the same. It is the steadfast reality that to become acceptable to the dominant group the requirement is assimilation, and assimilation means not only consuming but also being appropriated by white culture. Asian Americans being appropriated by white culture ranges from everything including being a buffer to other “minority” groups. Julia Carrie Wong wrote a stellar piece about complicity and what that does to boost whiteness:

For the past 50 years, Asian-Americans have been the so-called model minority — the minority group held up by politicians and the media to demonstrate the potential for success for people who aren’t white. It is no coincidence that this narrative arose alongside the black power movement in the 1960s. Asian-American success over time became a rhetorical bludgeon used to deny the real and ongoing effects of institutional racism and white supremacy on African-Americans. Ronald Reagan, for example, called Asian-Americans “exemplars of hope and inspiration” while denouncing black women on welfare. The existence of Asian-Americans was a way to deny the significance of whiteness and the hardship of exclusion from it.

When Asian American communities mirror the existence and influence of evangelical communities without constructive critique, and deny the way that this is also an instrument for  the power of the white narrative, they end up reifying white culture. Whiteness is the narrative. Whiteness is the normative. Whiteness becomes equated with authority, legitimacy, and even salvation. Wong asks compellingly: “The truth is, no one really knows what a society that does not privilege whiteness would look like in the U.S.; we haven’t seen it yet. How might we build such an alternative structure?”

This is where the Killjoy Prophets comes in as one bearer of possibility and hope. By centering those voices that are considered the least of these – the voices of women of color – we open ourselves to new ways of being and relating to one another. Judith Butler, philosopher and gender theorist, speaks to categories of identity around gender and sex, but really to humanity when she writes: “We can only rearticulate or resignify the basic categories of…being human…to the extent we submit ourselves to a process of cultural translation…it is a process of yielding our most fundamental categories, that is seeing how and why they break up. It is crucial to recognize the notion of human will only be built over time in and by the process of cultural translation…it will constitute a loss, a disorientation, but one in which the human stands a chance of coming into being anew,” (From Undoing Gender).

Women of color theologians continue to push me towards pneumatological expressions of doctrine and faith expression. This ongoing dialogue -“the process of inculturation is one of integration, in the sense of an integration of the Christian faith and life into a given culture and also an integration of a new expression of the Christian experience in the Church,”  – it is rooted in a posture towards the movement of the Holy Spirit, who seeks to connect and integrate, and make whole. To integrate and make oneself literally a person of integrity, a whole person, means openness and engagement of the fluid and ever-changing nature of culture. It results in an intentional incorporation of other cultures with the attitude that they will help us understand our own stories even amidst conflict and differences.

Similarly, in The Holy Spirit, Chi, and the Other, Kim describes these new creations in terms of hybridity, which “becomes a form of resistance as it eliminates the dualistic and hierarchical constructions of cultures and illustrates that cultures grow and are dependent on constantly borrowing from each other and affecting one another. Hybridity becomes an important tool for liberation.”(Grace Ji-Sun, Kim, Holy Spirit, Chi, and the Other (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2011), 96.) In scripture, this is expressed in pneumatological terms as well: “Now the Lord is Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom,” (2 Corinthians 3:17). I would go further to say that hybridity is not only a tool for liberation, but also an expression of liberation.

The way hybridity operates is by shifting “the conceptualization of identity because identity is no longer a stable reference point. It creates a new paradigm in which liminality, instability, impurity, movement, and fluidity inform the formation of identities,” (Grace Ji-Sun, Kim, Holy Spirit, Chi, and the Other, New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2011, 96). The nebulous nature of this paradigm echoes Judith Butler and is also an expression of the Spirit, and while a lack of structure produces unknown vulnerabilities and may seem terrifying to many, it is a doorway to a new way of being as inspired by the Divine through God’s Spirit.

Even as this is written, I’m mindful of the celebration of Reformation Sunday, and the reformers and prophets of old associated with the Protestant church. It seems fitting that the foundation of my own faith tradition is rooted in a legacy of protesters for that is part of the etymology of Protestantism. My prayer is that we will continue boldly in this decolonization project, and as Marlon Bailey reiterates over and over – intervene in white settler colonialist discourse through knowledge production by being self-reflexive and honest about our own complicity in oppression but not end simply with new discourses. Mobilize, organize, and make that change even if one conversation at a time.

By Mihee Kim-Kort, Emily Rice, Suey Park

Streams Run Uphill: Official Release

Streams Run Uphill: Official Release

SRU Book Cover
Where streams run uphill, there a woman rules. —Ethiopian proverb

Happy Women’s History month! 

I’m also super happy to announce the release of Streams Run Uphill: Conversations with Young Clergywomen of Color.

After Making Paper Cranes: Toward an Asian American Feminist Theology (The Young Clergy Women Project) I felt like there needed to be something about ministry and vocation itself as a follow-up to my journey towards a contextual feminist theology. Something a little more on the ground and touching issues that are often completely absent or misunderstood by others.

Some excerpts from the beginning:

It is the dynamic but unexpected harmony of streams that “run uphill” that compels me the most. There is struggle in an uphill endeavor, but miracle in its very existence. There is an irrationality about it, as well as a subversive, kingdom-shaking quality. There is something off-putting and hard to swallow but undeniably compelling about it. So, too, it is with the “other” clergywomen and our work and ministry, their calling and community relationships, their voices and their perspectives. There is a necessity for their ministries and their stories, a need more pressing now than ever.

I remember from a seminary class the words of our mujerista sister theologians: La vida es la lucha. Life is a struggle. Despite the distinctive quality of these stories, what ties us together, and with all our sisters around the world, is the struggle. We claw. We scuffle. We rise, tooth and nail, tear-soaked and blood-spilled in it all. But it is not only the hardships, the obstacles, and conflicts; it is the miracles. It is the miracle and wonder, the undeniable beauty of grace we encounter in ourselves and in our callings. We overcome much. We surmount even more. We triumph over the impossible. Yet, even more importantly, while much of the journey is uphill, the promise of God in community is that we never journey alone. We share each other’s burdens. We carry each other on our shoulders. We hold each other’s tears. And so, I hope it is with these words: that they would remind us of our shared baptism, the promise and proclamation of God’s claiming us, and how that is the most important voice in our lives, and one that comes to us and we hear in this community.

And in that sharing, we hear and know God’s unquenchable love for us and press on all the more.

To all those women, 
the mothers, the writers, the artists, and the prophets, who are an oasis 
and who stir up a fresh vision of God’s kingdom with their work and lives
so that we might continue faithfully in this journey.

We’ve got a great line up for the upcoming blog tour, author videos in the works, and hopefully webinars/discussions. These are SUCH important issues and all the honesty and vulnerability from the authors has compelled me to make sure we hear their voices, and offer a space for those needing to articulate the struggle. Please join us!


Politics of Marriage: Public Vows and the Exchange of Women

Politics of Marriage: Public Vows and the Exchange of Women

wedding rings

For more on the series – click here.

The view of marriage as a private relationship has become of public value in the US enshrined in legal doctrine. In 1944 the the US Supreme Court portended a momentous line of interpretation by finding that the US Constitution protected a “private realm of family life which the state cannot enter…-Nancy Cott, Public Vows


Standing up before God – perhaps in a church or in front of a mountain – it has become a strange blurring of religion and government in this one moment. With an absurdly excessive wedding sub-culture that thrives on Say-Yes-to-the-Dress and Bridezilla-esque Disney fairy tales to perpetuate this need for an extravagant affair…why people get married is certainly an interesting question these days. I’m still mulling the whole love and romance reason though now it’s mixed with both suspicion and cynicism. For obvious reasons, if you’re in a heterosexual relationship the benefits are sizeable – insurance, employment assistance, tax deductions, etc, and then if you produce offspring, there’s even more rights and privileges afforded the family. It’s an easy party line to tow…if you fit the narrow categories of eligibility.

Somehow, family and domestic life, once “private,” became fodder for state legislation. The state entered into this seemingly invincible relationship, and according to Cott, shaped gender by enshrouding it in benefits for only one specific relationship perpetuating the exclusion of many commitments and necessarily, creating second class citizens in many people, but especially…women. There is a gender order that maintains this kind of relationship, and that relationship perpetuates the gender order. But, it wasn’t always so. Engels argues that capitalism became a vehicle in which the need for monogamy, and therefore the binding contract of marriage was used to maintain the existence of civilized and progressive (meaning, advancing) societies. Privatizing marriage was a way to continue to protect this institution, and therefore this kind of society. And protecting marriage meant elevating marriage to a fantasy land of romance, true and eternal love, between a knight in shining armor and a wife…who’s property and name would soon belong to the knight.

Suddenly, women became the ultimate currency in an industrialized world that needed a way to produce the labor force, and produce it cheaply. Actually, for free, because they were married off, by brothers and fathers who were looking to “enlarge their territory,” a la Jabez Prayer. Any inkling of resistance was met with a growing narrative about roles, duties, and responsibilities couched in religious language.

But, I don’t know. Reading about so many manifestations of marriage like cyber marriages (more later) and the picture brides from Korea and Japan to Hawaii in the early 1900’s…it’s hard not to wonder about marriage being a vehicle for establishing oneself. Most of these women saw this as an opportunity to take control of their destinies, and become something they wouldn’t have considered in their countries of origin. There’s a lot of power and agency in leaving it all behind to start new. Still, even though some of the women arranged the marriages themselves they weren’t exactly the most ideal situation. Though few likely found decent partners most suffered abuse, violence, and rejection as some of the men engaged in gambling and prostitution as they dealt with their own struggles with inadequacy, disappointment, and mistreatment by plantation owners. In all, I see labor again, and economics being a strange and powerful force in shaping societies. (Much of the information is from Alice Yun Chai. “Picture Brides: Feminist Analysis of Life Histories of Hawai’i’s Early Immigrant Women from Japan, Okinawa, and Korea.” pp. 123-138)

 As I continue to think about marriage and gender roles especially in the context of readings from this Sexualized Genders/Gendered Sexualities course I can’t help but wonder about gender oppression. The rules for such a civilization require specific roles, and inevitably the oppression of one gender. But, the waters get murky when those genders aren’t easily intelligible and the citizens of a state are not following the exact (heteronormative, monogamous, etc.) standards for proliferating present-day civilization. And then, how can we even regulate such a thing fairly and honestly in a way that is beneficial for all?

Deeper Story: Yellow Fever and Letting Go of Shame


Yellow Fever:

1. An infectuous tropical disease carried by mosquitoes.

2. A term usually applied to white males who have a clear sexual preference for women of Asian descent.

[From Urban Dictionary]

3. Feeling shame about one’s asianness. (My definition)


A friend of mine lamented that his girlfriend did not know who Emmet Till was when it came up in conversation. Something about TMZ and Lil Wayne. I have no clue. He told me he could barely pick his face up off the floor – much less his jaw – when he tried to explain that the story of this little black boy is a huge part of American history, and how could you not know him???

But. Would people say that about … Vincent Chin? If I were to ask you to name 5 Asian Americans that have made a significant impact on American consciousness and identity could you name someone besides Jeremy Lin or Lucy Liu?

For the longest time I struggled with racial identity. Actually, that’s not accurate. I avoided it. I ignored the contradictions I felt in and around me. I pretended nothing was wrong. People often express surprise when I share this piece of my story.

“But, you’re Asian! It’s not like your Black or Hispanic.” (Wow. Not even sure where to begin…)
“Asians are rich and successful!” (Have you heard of the model minority myth?”)
“I don’t see you as Asian. I see you as American.”(That isn’t really helpful.)
“Your English is so good. There’s not a trace of an accent. What’s the problem?” (Sigh.)

The rest is at Deeper Story today.

Asian Invasion: AAPI Heritage Month


(I’m not sure what I think about the photo above. But that’s what Google images gave me when I typed in “Asian American.”]

Okay, I’m slow.

I guess, I have an excuse. You know, those 3 kids of mine. But, seriously, I thought I could get it together and muster up enough energy, even in small bursts between a fussy 2 month old and 2 feisty toddlers to write something more regularly. A sentence. A few words down here and there. A thought. An idea. A shadow of a glimmering of an image.


Even though #3 is a lot easier…he seems to fill in a lot of those wispy threads of quiet that I get once in a while during the day when I can manage to pry my eyes open. I am holding out hope that whatever pathetic desperation to reach out to the rest of the civilized world kept me up during the twins’ first year will surface once again long enough to write a post here and there.


Or maybe.

But. It’s Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. I need to celebrate my peeps, yo. My history. My community. So, I’m going to try to do that this month. Posts about books. Posts about people. Posts about posts. Posts about stories that opened my eyes to the possibility of a truly Asian American identity.

And, of course, try to get some other folks to write something about something about this month. There’s a plethora out there, believe it or not, but I think it’s still hard to know where to find it. And find it, and learn it we must if we are truly to know who we are as Americans (and that goes for all y’all. Not just the ones who look like me.). We’ll start out with some blogs:

8 Asians: “This is a collaborative blog of Asian-Americans and Asian-Canadians. But once you look past the fact that we fill out the same bubble in a census survey, you’ll see that we don’t have much in common, and as you’ll soon see, that’s not such a bad thing. We’ll be posting about whatever Asian issues are currently relevant in our lives, whether it be pop culture or current events or politics.” I also write for this blog. Well, actually, I was for a while, then I stopped, and now inspired by AAPI month, I’m trying to write again. Basically I love this community for the wide breadth of stories and opinions on Asian and Asian American culture. This is my go-to for all things Asian American year-round.

Angry Asian Man: Like he says, he’s not really that angry. All the time. He has been around for a long, long while, and prolific when it comes to any kind of news in Asian America. And I love his perspective. He has a great story that he shares on his About page, and talks about why he writes: “Because racism does exist, and because Asian Americans still do struggle with issues of acceptance in this country. My context for discussing these problems often came from comic exaggeration, because at times, it was the only way to make such ugly issues open and approachable. Angry Asian Man became a cause. And just like Angry Asian Man, the views expressed in the contents of this website will inevitably be ridiculously zealous and exaggerated. Of course, it’s all in fun, but just like the persona of Angry Asian Man, rooted in truth.”

Disgrasian: These ladies are so hilarious. They are also gorgeous, intelligent, and have a crazy sharp wit. I like the As Amer women representation here on all sorts of topics, and am thankful that they are role models.

Now, in terms of those in the Christian sub-culture I’d like to laud: Grace Ji-Sun Kim, Bruce Reyes-Chow, The Next Gener.Asian Church, and Eugene Cho. Some diverse voices, and important ones not only for a faith perspective, but when it comes to social justice, poverty, environmentalism, and equality.

I wonder what others read to be informed about Asian American culture?


I remember the first time someone slanted their eyes at me.

They came up to me, pulled back the corners of their eyes, and asked, innocently, “How are you able to see when your eyes are so small?” Ah yes, the “innocence” of children. I had no idea. No idea what to say or think or do. Except I went home and looked in the mirror and wondered, “Is there something wrong with me?” And then I would hear it all, the ching-chonging song, and the Chinese-Japanese-dirty-knees-look-at-these, and caricatures of my name.

I didn’t understand that this was an expression of racism. All I know is I felt shame. A self-hatred that almost could not be eradicated by the Gospel. Because that racism was so deeply entrenched in everything, even church, and I struggled with what it meant to be made in God’s image.

I couldn’t say anything. Ever. Eventually I would hear from both American and Korean cultures that the round, Western eyes were the ultimate sign of beauty, and then stories of how Korean women would get the double eyelid surgery. I hated hearing about people’s eyes, and comments whether from my mother or from strangers. Today, I couldn’t care less about that beauty standard, but when a Korean makes a comment about my eyes, and the sang-ah-pul (double eyelid) I have naturally, or about the children and their eyes, it haunts me.

All I can hear is ching-chong, ching-chong, ching-chong.

Thank You for Thinking Before Asking: Dialogue with Larissa and MaryAnn

Thank You for Thinking Before Asking: Dialogue with Larissa and MaryAnn

thinkIt’s been awhile since I last posted – I’ve been sort of all over the place this January with trying to manage my health and this pregnancy, and then the twins, of course, and ministering to and with college students (…and attempting to put some coherent thoughts on paper for the two book projects due this year). Coming across both Larissa’s and MaryAnn’s blogs on women interviewing for church positions and dealing with some of the questions sparked some thinking for me, too, enough so that I felt like I might have something to write and get these juices flowing again. But thank you for asking. Haha.

Anyways, both Larissa and MaryAnn make some great points, and offer really honest pictures of their own experiences, and presumably some of the experiences perhaps of colleagues and friends. On the one hand Larissa shares:

Every single interview (Did you read that? EVERY SINGLE INTERVIEW) that I have had in the past several months has included some form of the question, “How do you feel about going back to work?” or “What will your son do once you start working?”

I see her point. It would certainly rub me a little bit the wrong way. But, I do think in some ways this is a good question. Even a legitimate question. And yet, I can’t deny it’s really loaded and complicated. And not without agenda.

On the other hand, MaryAnn writes that:

In almost every case, the person was asking out of curiosity, concern, and in good faith.

Curiosity: The idea of women serving as pastors is beyond a no-brainer for me, but it’s still new to many people. Many of them are not looking for a reason to weed you out, or a reason for you not to succeed. They are simply trying to picture how the life of the pastor works, what with night meetings and hospital emergencies. Our busiest times in ministry coincide with the school’s winter break and spring break. (Fairfax County schedules spring break during Holy Week every flippin’ year. Grrrr.) So… “how do you do that?” they want to know.

Concern: Many church people I meet are genuinely interested in the well-being of the pastor and her family. Many church folks get the stereotypes surrounding the minister’s family—how kids are put under the microscope and spouses are expected to be a de facto “second pastor”—and conscientious ones want to mitigate that through expressions of care and concern.

Yes, in some cases, “How do you feel about going back to work?” is a trap. But not necessarily. Remember, the church is a community, a place where people care about people. Many people sitting on search committees have felt ambivalence about going back to work—and joy at being there. The question is not necessarily a wall. It can be a bridge.

Good faith: Again, I know women who have been the victim of appalling examples of sexism. That has not been my story, for whatever reason. I wonder all the time why that is. It could be that I’m simply clueless, that there’s sexism going on and I’m not paying attention. Or I got lucky with the congregations I’ve served. Or I’ve decided to give people the benefit of the doubt, and when those potentially iffy questions and comments come my way I see it as someone trying to establish contact and relationship, albeit in a fumbling or even frustrating way. Probably it’s a combination of all three.

I definitely agree that there are some geographic pockets of communities where people still do a double-take when the pastor of a church is a woman. Surely, curiosity is a driving factor behind some of these questions, and I’ve navigated them in bars, airplanes, and the kids’ nursery school. But in the interview setting – especially in a PCUSA church – I’m hard-pressed to believe that this is somehow that novel or unbelievable. I mean, don’t people own TVs? Internet? Maybe that’s a rude question.

Likewise, I do believe that churches should be places of concern and compassion, and many are from the get-go, even in the search process, but in an interview setting, when it comes down to it, most PNC’s aren’t thinking about the well-being of the pastor candidate. They’re thinking about themselves – and maybe even rightfully so, because they need/want to make sure the church finds the right match. I’ve heard that this sentiment has actually been expressed point-blank to not only female but male candidates. Whether it’s theologically/ecclesiastically “correct,” it’s a reality that seems to motivate PNCs. I understand there’s history and pain and anxiety in a lot of churches’ histories, and that’s something to not take lightly in the search process.

In terms of giving churches the benefit of the doubt, I think that is the healthy route to take in what can be a soul-draining process, but I really think that MaryAnn’s journey is unique. I won’t totally go into the race factor here, but for many women of color, I’ve only heard of struggle and difficulty during the search process, particularly when it comes to Anglo congregations.

One tip Larissa offers is:

Asking a female candidate, “How do you feel about working while raising your children?” feeds into decades of pressure on women to feel as though they have to do it all. I’m guessing if a woman has applied to your church, she has already considered this…otherwise why would she have submitted her resume in the first place?! Give her the benefit of the doubt, bite your tongue, ask about the unique gifts she brings to your congregation, and uncover the ways you can do ministry together.

To me this means thinking before asking. I’m fine with questions. Please ask them. I attempt to always be as open and honest as possible especially in an interview setting for a church position. Sometimes that would get me far. Sometimes that would seem to create barriers perhaps because of misunderstanding or some kind of scary foreignness I brought to the table. But, I’d want and expect that kind honesty from the PNC, too, so if you’re going to ask me a question that you think is pertinent to the job, then please really ask yourselves first, “Why do we want to ask this candidate about her family and raising children and going back to work? What’s behind it?” rather than a question that may actually be hiding a different question (i.e. “How do you feel about working while raising your children?” maybe equaling “Are you going to be around? Are you going to be reliable? Are you going to choose your children over the church each and every time?”). Maybe there’s some history or some hard experiences that prompt these questions. I get that – but tell me a little bit of the story – again, the history, the pain, the fears – instead of asking a question that is really confusing.

Granted, I know so many churches are supportive of the pastor and his family, in fact, we are experiencing that in huge and incredibly gracious ways at Andy’s church now. But, when a friend receives an email from a potential church that says in essence, “we would have considered you a candidate but your pregnancy prevents us from pursuing you further,” then I can’t help but wonder what PNCs are thinking when they ask those questions.

Ultimately, I think we all want the same thing in relationship to our churches and ministries, as MaryAnn writes:

I want search committees to care about work-life balance.

I like and appreciate MaryAnn’s perspective, and rather than simply giving into the cynicism of a difficult system, I’m all for working openly and honestly with churches to change that culture. To me this means entering into honest dialogue and abandoning the posturing and positioning associated with a corporate-like organization. The honest conversations will make the search processes much more meaningful and genuine…and hopefully help change the dynamics of churches and their ministers.

My good faith really believes that most churches are truly looking to support this balance in their pastors because it’s mutually necessary and beneficial. But, let’s keep dialoguing and pushing each other!