A Probability of Being

 Petaling Street in Kuala Lumpur is famous for its night market. It's always busy, there're a ton of cheap pirated goods, good food. It was so prosperous and such a draw for tourists that the government decided to refurbish it, give it a nice arch at the end of the street, and I think there's even a roof to keep the rain off the good folks who shop there. What happened? It became a Chinatown, with cheesy red pillars to match. Why the fuck do we need a Chinatown? The Chinese shop at other places too. I felt really betrayed, like the government had decided to shunt us Chinese into one area to capitalize on tourism as much as possible, when Petaling Street, despite being Chinese-dominated, really belonged to  everybody . This refurbishment happened while I was gone, and even though I don't go to Petaling Street all that much, whenever my family passes through that area now and I see those godawful pillars, I cringe inwardly, because it feels like Malaysia is aping ways to...

Because Ottens continues to be a dipshit : I feel compelled to tell you this: I am not offended .  I am contemptuous . Contemptuous of the fact that you choose to dismiss the very real harm these attitudes propagate on very real people. Contemptuous that you think your entertainment is so much more important than the daily discrimination people who look like me face. Contemptuous of the fact that you think your intent to mean no disrespect actually matters in the face of the hurt you cause. Contemptuous that you insist on defending what we, members of the affected marginalized groups, have said, time and again, is a really harmful idea. "Offended" isn't the word. Try "angry". Try "baffled". Try "unsurprised at racism". (And able-ism, hey ho!) But most of all, contemptuous . Cross-posted to Tip-Tapping

Note: I started this post back in November, so some of the ideas are kind of dated. Lately, I've been considering what "multi-culturalism" means, whether it's in fiction or in everyday life. I find that whenever discussions of multiculturalism comes up, it's very much like talking about racism, in the "we shouldn't discriminate against each other on the basis of culture! We should be free to share what we have, no matter what!" sort of way that erases actual concerns about the concept. It was only while reading Buck Godot, Zap Gun for Hire , by Phil Foglio that I started to put my finger on why I'm starting to really doubt whether it actually exists in real life, and why, in discussions about multiculturalism around people who aren't really knowledgeable about issues surrounding race and privilege, I always find myself uneasy, despite their good intentions. (Aside, you know, from believing that the road to Hell is paved with good inten...

Part of anti-oppression work is speaking out against it when we see it. It means pointing it out, and calling it out for what it is. It means, as much as possible, stepping in and intervening if we are capable. It means coming up with ways to prevent oppression in the first place (which often entails an attitude-change on the scale of epic).  And of course, part of the problem tends to be saviour tropes. Most of us involved in media analysis are aware of the "white saviour" complex. It's the kind of fantasy that gets played out very often - who doesn't want to be the hero that steps in to save the day? The hero does something remarkably brave, above and beyond what is asked of them, and is deeply respected for it as a result?  I personally don't think this narrative is limited only to white people. In fact, I think many of us have these moments where we think of what we would do, or should have done, in certain situations, which would give us such pwnage point...

Ordinarily, every year in celebration of the Lunar New Year, my family hies off to a temple to pray before carrying on with other festivities. This would mean a lot of standing around whilst one or two family members got joss sticks, lit them, and brought it back to the others who would usually be waiting outside the temple, so they could pray without actually venturing into the smokey air.  My mother raised me on regular worship of the Goddess of Mercy, although this was usually framed as asking the goddess to bless us so we would get good grades in the school year. Her religiousity is the practical kind which only bugs the gods when she really needs something answered. When I joined the school's Buddhist Association, my main religion was Theravadan Buddhism. I was pretty good at being Buddhist, it seemed: I attended the weekly meetings and never missed one except once or twice a year; I sang the hymns well; I memorized the chants. Every Wesak Day was spent at the temple, hel...

I first talked about Hua Mulan  here . Unfortunately, by the time I got home, Hua Mulan was off the screens (because movies have notoriously short running periods here), but the DVD was out! So I hunkered down with my father, a family friend, my mom, and I had a box of tissues in front of me, because I knew I was going to need some. And I was right! I will try to cut down on spoilers as much as possible, and will reference the 1964 Shaw Brother's production of Lady General Hua Mulan for comparison purposes besides the Disney version. As Mulan's story usually starts, there's a call for soldiers. The Hua family has no sons, and Mulan's father is ailing, but he feels that he has to go, because for generations, the Hua family has been known to be great fighters. Mulan herself is an excellent fighter, having been taught by her father, one of the greatest warriors of his generation, but as a woman, she isn't allowed to be part of the army. Nonetheless, she takes he...

Today is the Lunar New Year. I apologize for the radio silence - I've been spending time with my family and friends, plus, I haven't had the energy to rant about stuff. So, I want to wish everyone a happy Lunar New Year! Gong xi fa cai! Kong hey fatt choy! Keong hee wa sai! Kong hee wa sai!  That's the same greeting in four Chinese dialects. Feel free to leave the way you wish others a Happy New year in comments!

The other day, after a job interview, I went to KFC and had chicken rice. It's mainly two pieces of chicken, a bowl of rice, three slices of cucumber, and a small bowl of soup with a couple of meatballs in it. It was quite delicious, because a) our chicken generally tastes better (I suspect it is due to the halal state of the meat), b) it's been localized, what with the rice and all, and c) you gotta have soup to finish off the meal, you just gotta. One of the things that's always frustrated me about the Canadian KFC franchise, besides the general disgustingness of the chicken that I will consume anyway (hey, low bars and all), is the lack of metal cutlery. What we get are plastic forks and knives, maybe spoons. And we're supposed to use these on paper plates. I hate this concept. I hate using plastic cutlery. No, I don't care about your excuses, Canadian KFC. I don't care that it's cheaper, because buying a set amount of metal cutlery that can be re-use...

- Aang is not white. Nothing about him codes as white. Maybe he has peachy skin which looks white to some folks, but that doesn't mean anything, since a lot of us Asians have somewhat peachy skin too. Nonetheless, I can see how some people can code him as white, because of his bald head. Yes, I said it: his bald head makes it easy to code him as white. A kid can easily imagine him with blond or light brown or red hair then.  I do not know any reason to code Aang as white unless you're that kind of kid who wants to pretend he's the hero, and you're white. Which is completely understandable. - King Bumi and many other Earth Kingdom characters really strongly code as South-East Asian to me. Haru, for example, I first took for a Malay boy. He could also be Filipino, Indonesian, Vietnamese, Thai, but to me, I coded him as Malay. It also helps that the Earth Kingdom colour is green. Green is the color of Islam, you know. Not only that, but the hats they wear look like songk...

A few years ago, DiGi Malaysia, a mobile phone service, had an ad campaign. DiGi's best known for its prepaid service, which in North America is called pay-as-you-go, which I think is silly. Anyway, DiGi's signal mascot in this campaign was the Yellow Man. Despite being an anthropomorphism of telephonic coverage, Digi Yellow Man has some personality to him, although in the first ad, those aren't much more than loyalty, a somewhat cheery disposition, curiousity in both what you do and the world around him, and a dogged determination to follow you everywhere you go, even to the bathroom: He will be available at your disposal even out in the middle of nowhere, and will be your constant companion wherever you go: Even on your wedding day: Digi Yellow Man always wants to be the first to serve, and will fight to be of service: But DiGi Yellow Man is under no obligation to never be embarrassed about you when you decide to be a rude obnoxious jerk in a cinema: Nor does ...

So the other day, the following chain of events happened: 1) Lavie Tidhar revealed to us the new cover of the Dragon and the Star anthology, of fiction by ethnic Chinese writers all over the world. 2) The cover looks awful, and my friend Joyce asked, why is it a Western dragon, not an Oriental dragon? Because, after all, this is an anthology of Chinese writers writing specifically Chinese-inspired fiction. The cover looks like an average dragon fantasy anthology, which isn't what the anthology is about. Anyway, 3) while we studied the features of the dragon closely to see what coded it as suitable for this anthology, I suggested, maybe it's a mixed-race dragon , because, even though Asian parents' genes will dominate over European-Caucasian genes, there's always that possibility, and 4) clearly, someone needed to write a story about that . Joyce did . I tried, but I ended up writing a story about an exchange student dragon . (Her situation is significantly more angsty ...

So the last while I've been feeling like, really awful. I'm at home, typing on my new laptop, the keys of which I'm still not used to, and trying to keep abreast of the blogosphere. I've been having a lot of thoughts in my head, but it's like, one ear in, the other ear out, and moreover, the longer I stay in Malaysia, the more I think in short sentences, none of which are useful for very long blog posts like this one. The other day, while making name cards for myself (another project which isn't going too well, seeing as my Photoshop skills are set at Basic), I thought it would be nice to have in the background, "Silence may be golden, but diverse voices make a symphony." Oddly enough, just a few days after I thought this up, this feature on gold came up on The Big Picture , which solidified a few things I was thinking about the saying, "silence is golden." Gold, being a limited resource and, well, very shiny, is valued. I like gold, pa...

Today is NARAL's Blog for Choice Day, and its theme is on Dr. Tiller and on trusting women.  I never met the man, and I wasn't even aware of what he did until he was killed. What I did know was that sometimes, for whatever reason, wanted babies cannot be carried to full-term. Whether it's due to complications, or danger of the mother's, or the baby was already dead in the womb - late-term abortions don't usually occur for shits and giggles, especially if they happen practically weeks away from the actual birthdate.  I can't even begin to imagine how devastating that must be, to learn that for whatever reason, I won't be able to carry my baby to full-term, even though I'm almost there. It would be even worse to know it's already dead inside me, and needs to be removed or else I will die.  But the last thing I would want happen to me is to be told I can't get the safest option possible for a late-term abortion, that I am required to put myself...

In high school, I was asked, "[Jha], are you a Christian?" and I would say, no, why? "Because you speak such good English." In Canada, I was frequently mistaken for a Canadian local, or an American. I was told, however, on a trip to England, with a few other students on a course on Shakespeare (wherein we had two weeks of seminars on Shakespearean plays which we would then watch in Stratford-on-Avon, and every day was a flurry of lectures, discussion groups, and plays, with afternoons off), that my Malaysian accent came out once in a while, "whenever [I] discuss difficult concepts". I didn't know I even had a Malaysian accent. It's very slight, my professor told me, but it's there, because otherwise I have a rather powerful command of English (which only makes sense, seeing as it's the only language I have so I really ought to make the best of it). But there are other things I hide when I'm among Canadians, just as there are thi...

The blurb on the back of Soulless reads thusly:  Alexia Tarabotti is laboring under a great many social tribulations. First, she has no soul. Second, she's a spinster whose father is both Italian and dead. Third, she was rudely attacked by a vampire, breaking all standards of social etiquette.   Where to go from there? From bad to worse apparently, for Alexia accidentally kills the vampire -- and then the appalling Lord Maccon (loud, messy, gorgeous, and werewolf) is sent by Queen Victoria to investigate.  With unexpected vampires appearing and expected vampires disappearing, everyone seems to believe Alexia responsible. Can she figure out what is actually happening to London's high society? Will her soulless ability to negate supernatural powers prove useful or just plain embarrassing? Finally, who is the real enemy, and do they have treacle tart? Little did I know that the action really delves into this within the first chapter itself. I'm not used to this....

 Hello wonderful readers! RBB will be on break for the next bit. I'll resume acting out when I'm finally back in Malaysia (which should be on the 8th). In the meantime, take care, and have a fun time ushering in 2010!

Here's  an editorial by Nuno Fonseca , a Portuguese spec fic writer / editor at the WorldSF blog, talking about (I think, anyway, the text is dense - no fault of the writer) representation of minorities (e.g. women, LGBT) in World SF. A relevant tidbit: Every time I see a flame war, a heated commentary discussion or simple online tantrum about the derision of a specific, be it gender-based, or around the colonialist-nationalistic axis, or about race discrimination, or even senseofwonder uberall-ism and whatnot, I feel happy and sad. Why? Because in most of these cases what we see is a plain bellyful attitude, even though it is a post-inclusive one. Let me explain. I happen to live in a country where there are no women writing science fiction. Or black people. Or gay, or whatever you may think about as a specific. Oh it’s true there are a few one-off examples, but way too few. It is a country where the few people who do write SF, are inclusive ones, as it is possible in our globa...