For the Love of Engrish...

So I recently got into a debate on Facebook....I never really get into debates on facebook. Do you? It's mostly one side saying what they thing, another side not listening but disagreeing on principle, the first side following the same method and so on. Very little listening or learning, which is why I usually choose not to engage.

Then someone called me a bigot.

Well it didn't start that way, did it? Let me back up.

I run an account on Patreon (like kickstarter but ongoing for artist support) that is called Weird Box of Japan and specializes in Engrish goods as well as other weird semi-uniquely Japanese things. People give me money, I send them a monthly box of weirdness that usually makes people happy. One of my patrons posted on one of the Amanda Palmer facebook fan groups about the contents of her recent package, which met mostly with responses like "What is that?" and "Why haven't I heard of this?"
The one vocal Chinese member of the group (ethnically and globally. Like she really lives in China and is Chinese. She is the only one who meets that criteria and regularly posts anything.) even mentioned that she could read the label and knew what the mystery item was but wouldn't tell anyone.

But there was also a negative response that got a couple of likes, which was something along the lines of "I don't see how Engrish is anything but bigotry."
And I wasn't the only one to be taken aback by the offended tone, especially when we're having fun at our own expense.
There were a few comments present when I checked this out (at 5:30 AM after a road trip) which basically when along the lines of "What?" and "Let Jessica explain. She probably knows."

So I explained, via an essay written on my phone using my thumbs while I lay in bed next to my slumbering family. I mentioned that I thought I knew where the girl was coming from and if anyone were using the term against people I would agree that it is racist and awful, but we are only using it to describe commercially produced products coming out of companies that didn't bother to have their copy checked by a native speaker. We're laughing at companies that either believe that whatever they put on a shirt/cup/whatever will do since it has those western letters or that it will sell better for its flaws.
I went on to explain that my Japanese husband thinks Engrish is the appropriate term and is hysterical.

The girl responded in one sentence paragraphs racked with errant commas that the word Engrish is racist because it mocks phonemes present in several Asian languages and I should use "comical translation error" or something similar instead. She then compared me to a schoolyard bully and insisted that the companies producing these things are victims of my racist labeling practices.


Here's the thing. I have said many stupid things in my life, from when I once told the hispanic boy I had a crush on in 3rd grade to "speak American" (because I was embarrassed to not know Spanish) to when I kept insisted on calling America "my country" when having dinner with several international  folks in Minneapolis last December, despite the fact that one of them was born in the states. I didn't mean any harm and still think these were stupid things to say.

Calling these products Engrish is not racist, because people of any race could be making these mistakes and anyone can laugh at them. I am not condoning telling people they "speak engrish" because Engrish is not a spoken thing. Spoken language is different and more difficult. Even having someone read over everything you plan to say is not a full-proof way to avoid errors. Written things,  especially words and phrases that wind up on products, are different in that there is room for editing. Someone can check your work and make sure it goes out right most of the time.

That's why it's funny and not mean. That's why we can call it Engrish.

The fight with the girl went on a few more volleys, with me dissecting her one analogy and her confessing it wasn't even an analogy but a reflection of something she once saw in her job. She's calling me a bully because she has seen bullying once.

Then she called me a biggot, though "not in a character defining sort of way." which was really the icing on the cake.

I did respond by pointing out some errors and trying to add guidance and positive feedback to the mix. She acted like I farted in her face.

The saddest thing is that I have been there, trying to relate the vast realm of human experience to whatever I knew at 16 or 18 or 22 and being offended on behalf of races and cultures I don't belong to for imagined injustices as much as real ones.

But I've grown up since then.

I used to think no one should use the n word. Then we wouldn't have to keep reminding non-black people to avoid it. It took some time and growth for me to understand that a maligned group has the right to reclaim words used against them if they so choose, and that choice doesn't even go for every member of that group. Bottom line, white girl from suburbia doesn't get to be offended on behalf of anyone unless there's actually someone saying "I am offended by this."

This is also why it is good to have friends of many cultures and races. You can ask, "Is this offensive?" and they can tell you.

So that's what I did. In a comment anyone could see, I asked the only vocal Asian in the group, and she said that the way the term was being used was not offensive at all. If it were being used against the way an actual person was speaking, then it would be. I agreed.

I then wrote my last paragraph to the offended girl and hid the post. Then I laughed. And laughed. And had a beer. And told my friends. And told my grandmother.
And laughed.

And I am still laughing.


But there were some interesting thoughts in this whole affair for me. The first was the realization that the nut jobs are not all on the right wing. Sorry conservative friends, I've heard enough hollering for crazy crap from my youth in Texas, and I've seen scores of people who can only believe in a politicians the way they believe in Jesus which is so wrong on so many levels, but that is people. I never knew we had (just as many perhaps) people plugging their ears to discourse and screaming offense about things that the potentially maligned group has judged as OK.

The next interesting thought was the debate in communication between being concise and being politically correct. I could write out a longer, potentially less offensive phrase (that I don't have the brain power to come up with now) every time I want to say "engrish" but definitely won't since I don't know anyone who is both Asian and offended by this term. The real heart of the debate lies more with words like Korean to describe the language of Korea. Koreans call the writing system hangul and take offense at calling it anything else, but if a friend of mine shows me a picture of some Asian writing they found and says, "Hey, what's this say?" the best answer is "I can;t read it. That's Korean."
Otherwise I have to have a whole conversation about hangul every single time I get asked about Asian writing, which isn't that often but still would be a waste of my time. We should all call it hangul and one day we will all know this, but for now, it saves me time and patience to use the less delicate term.

The last interesting thing...has been forgotten unfortunately. Such is life when this was what I did with the break I took when cleaning for several hours straight made me woozy.

Onward to other things!

Dr Seuss and Politics Part 1: Mayzie the Lazy Welfare Queen?

I've got this beautiful 3 year old daughter who is in love with Dr. Seuss. Her favorite character is Horton, which makes me very happy. Mind you, I had never read a Horton book before 2016 but now I can quote all of his who-hearing and egg-hatching adventures almost word-for-word.

And as we were reading through the aviary based tome, I came across an interesting thought.

And it is, weirdly, about my grandmother.

My paternal grandmother, like most of her 6 kids, is conservative. My dad alone seems to be the liberal mountain man of the group, which probably doesn't make sense to most people, but I'm not trying to tell our family history here. Suffice it to say I was raised by 2 liberals in conservative state (that used to be blue) only to be confronted with a family from up north living essentially the opposite existence.

When discussing the then-upcoming 2016 presidential election, my grandmother made use of terms more common among the right to far-right, like "welfare queen", which was something I'd only heard of briefly (probably because I avoid media from a perspective I can't fully understand) and had trouble wrapping my head around.

The fact is that the cost of living is higher today than it was twenty years ago in the US, and the pay at minimum wage jobs has not increased to match this. The assumption I am prone to make is that the same people who hired my Caucasian grandmother (about sixty years ago)when she was a teenager with several mouths to feed would be less likely to hire a woman of a different skin color to do the same job then or now, but even if they did, the money made wouldn't go nearly as far.
So this image of some destitute whore popping out babies so she can stay home living on barely-enough-to-eat is something I can't really imagine. Maybe that's me not being imaginative enough, but we lived in the ghetto (ghetto adjacent, really) and even if it was only for a few years, I don't remember anyone being excited to be on food stamps or anyone saying their parents refused to work so they could live off of the government instead.
Then again, I was 6. People don't tell 6-year-old children stories like that. Not when everyone's poor.

So I was reading my kid the story, and that lazy bird begs a passing elephant to sit on her egg so that she can take a break, only to have that break take most of the rest of the book because she would rather be relaxing in Palm Springs than doing her job as a mom. Instead, Horton (who is obviously a Hufflepuff) sits on the egg and keeps it safe and warm for 51 weeks through many hardships including treacherous weather, public mockery, hunters with guns, and becoming a side-show attraction.

And I think that lazy bird very much fits the idea of the "welfare queen" in that she does not take responsibility for her actions or job and wants only to relax at the expense of others.

I find that a more honest portrayal of the current head of the government than I do of an impoverished person. Poor people have problems, some self-made and many thrust upon them, but the vast majority, it seems to me at least, are more screwed over than lazy.

I know I'm lucky and privileged. Neither of my parents were ever in jail or deported. My dad's job paid for the necessities plus plenty of perks in addition to supplying us with medical insurance for our young lives. My mom is hard-working, still, trying to make things function when they otherwise would not. We didn't grow up in a mansion, but we always had food and water and electricity. There was no question of us going to school and getting jobs. We had examples of people who made stuff work. We were told that we were smart and capable and raised in a supportive household.

I've come to realize, the more people I meet in the world, that not everyone had that. There were difficulties for us, too, of course, but there's a lot worse off you can be (and survive better and more capable for it) than we ever were.

So, while I now can almost understand the idea behind the "welfare queen" characterization, I still believe it is unlikely to hold much truth. That said, I'm not a social worker nor a government employee in charge of investigating such things. Just a mom with a heart and a brain.
And just enough experience and empathy to deduce this.

But hey, it's just my two cents.

All the Ramblings in my Head...

I've been quiet for the past few weeks and for reasons anyone who knows me won't find terribly puzzling.

There's the harsh reality that is Japanese winter-- with humidity that guarantees any uncomfortable temperature sinks into your bones in addition to the perpetual feeling that your socks are soaking wet. At least that's what I get.

Then there's the reality of the American presidency, which better journalists have explained and re-explained the problems with. There are too many. Books will be written about this, but probably not by me.

Also, I'm lonely. I have friends who I see online and others who I see in person and my entire sense of worth is not derived from someone else making time for me, but a couple of individuals have moved from being central figures in my weekly schedule to occasional drop-ins if by some miracle the timing should suit them. This is not wrong-- everyone is doing what they should be doing-- but it hurts to feel cold and alone.

Except I never am alone. The three-year-old Julia is always with me, and I try my best to spend a few hours a day focusing on how great it is to have this time with her and getting her to maintain interest in subjects for us to study...and then I need alone time I don't get or an adult conversation I might get the chance to have in a couple of days if I'm lucky and it's just all a bit tricky.

But that's my normal mental state.

On the up side, we've made it past the halfway point of winter and I rejoice in every extra minute of daylight I can find. Sunset in my part of Japan in winter is around 4:30 PM at the worst part of winter. It sucks.

Friday we leave for the snow festival in Yamagata, after much debate and scheduling and re-planning and frustration. Yay! Except we've barely got money to cover what needs to be covered. I think we'll be alright, but it makes me nervous.

In addition, I've been needing to clean and organize the house in preparation for The Dolls, Julia's Hinamatsuri collection, which we should be setting up around the 8th. Having spent the last week oscillating between stressed and depressed, I have yet to find the time to make the cleaning happen. We'll see. After that trip. I did organize 1 thing today, and that was better than last week. 

If all else fails, my mother-in-law will set them up at her place, where there is more room and less likelihood of Julia smashing them to bits.

On the upside, I have made progress in a video game. Finding the reality (esp of the states) terrifying/horrifying, I have made it a point to spend a little more time in the world of fiction when I can. I don't really have the time to engross myself in a novel when Julia is around-- my attention must be divided and that does not make for fun reading-- but video games tend to be interactive enough. Pity I tend to play somewhat violent ones, but I'm trying to only play the less violent parts around my little sponge.
She started counting the dog-snake hybrids in Fallout: New Vegas. They are vicious and should be scary, but what does Julia say?
"One, two. Two bad doggies." To which I agree.

Yes, my child. Two bad doggies. But mommy has a plasma rifle, so don't worry. They'll be one big mass of green goo soon enough.

Also, I'm no longer afraid of those creatures in this game. Leveling up has advantages.

If I could just find a way to do that outside of virtual space....