Total Hapaness

I know it makes me sound like a total geezer, but I never thought I would live to see the day when there were books and movies about hapas - half-Asian people, like me. I really felt like a unicorn when I was growing up; some solitary kind of creature that had no matching kind. About once a year (maybe more?) I remember my mother nudging me on the subway, pointing with her chin at someone. "I bet that person's hambun-hambun," she'd say. "Like you." And I'd stare and stare with eyes like plates, trying to discern some connection. Once I followed a girl around this sock-and-underwear outlet store for half an hour, my heart pounding. I wanted to ask her. "Are you... half and half?" But I chickened out. What would I have said if she said yes? "So am I!" And then what?

Now there are organizations for hapas, and magazines. There are books and movies and T-shirts discussion groups and websites. This week there was an article in the San Francisco Chronicle about a new book by hapa Kip Fulbeck.
He is one cool hapa. He's made a lot of videos, including a really funny one where he insists that he bears total resemblance to all of Disney's ethnically ambiguous animated characters: Mowgli, Aladdin, Pocahontas and Lilo. He's right, too!

When I was younger, being hapa made me feel freaky. The thing that was the worst was when people would ask, "What are you?" and I could really do nothing more than shrug. I could say I was half Japanese, but when they pressed me for "What is the other half?" I could only respond, "Your guess is as good as mine." Which is what differentiated me from other hapas in a big way. They could look at each of their different halves, mirrored in their parents. Since I was adopted, I coudn't. I still can't, and I still don't know the answer to that question.

But it's a happy thing to be hapa these days. I feel like I have lots of company, and it isn't such a freaky thing anymore. In fact, I realize that I like being just a little bit freaky, or different. When I visited Hawaii for the first time, I thought I would love it, being in the land of the hapas! My place, my people! I was surprised at how suddenly invisible I felt: not different anymore.

I see hapas every day now, on the sidewalks, in stores, in mainstream media. It's kind of shocking, and kind of great. My favorite new famous hapa is K.T. Tunstall, a Chinese-Scottish songwriter. She rocks.