It is Feb. 16 at the time I am

writing this. To some of you, today
will have been just another Friday.
To me and others, however, today
is New Year’s Day, a time not only
for festivities, but also reflection.
Recently, the political correctness
of “Chinese New Year” has been
called into question, and I wanted
to take this opportunity to share
my thoughts on the issue and
explore its relation to my own
identities.

Let us travel back about 13

years to a Midwestern elementary
school, where my first-grade class
received a “cultural lesson” on
Chinese New Year.

In reality, this meant learning

a couple sayings in Cantonese,
folding
red
envelopes
and

snacking on fortune cookies.
Many of my classmates started
turning to me as if to seek some
sort of confirmation; I suppose it
was because I was the only Asian-
American in the room. To their
surprise, I vehemently denied any
previous involvement with the
holiday.

“I celebrate Vietnamese New

Year,” I insisted.

At first, the Vietnamese and

Chinese New Years may not seem
too different. They usually begin
on the same day because they are
both based on a lunar calendar,
which the Vietnamese adopted
from the Chinese. Millennia of
cultural exchange have also led
to
similarities
in
celebratory

activities, such as giving pocket
money to children and watching
lion dances. If you look beyond
the surface, though, you will see
there are traditions unique to
each culture. For example, eating
sticky rice cakes (bánh chung) is
a distinctly Vietnamese tradition,
one that is tied to the ascension of
Prince Lang Liêu.

Several Asian cultures have a

Lunar New Year, though the exact
time varies. There’s the Korean
Seollal, Mongolian Tsagaan Sar
and Tibetan Losar, just to name a
few. Jewish and Muslim holidays
are based on a lunar calendar, too.

The term “Chinese New Year”

becomes problematic when we fail
to realize there are non-Chinese
peoples who celebrate their own
versions of the Lunar New Year,
some of which have no historical
ties to China. I acknowledge

that China has made major
contributions to the cultures of
its neighboring countries, but I
believe referring to the New Year
as “Chinese” across the board
asserts Chinese dominance, while
ignoring the incorporation of local
customs. It reinforces the false
view of Asians as a monolithic
group. In the process of dispelling
assumptions about who I am and
the cultures to which I belong, I
feel it is necessary to specify that
I celebrate Vietnamese New Year.







But
of
course,
there
are

complications.

It has been pointed out to

me that I don’t use any cultural
markers when referring to Jan. 1
— I just call it “New Year.” Doing
so suggests that this New Year
is the norm, yet I have always
celebrated both Jan. 1 and the
Vietnamese New Year with the
same amount of familiarity. I
manage to other-ize half of the
traditions in which I participate.
I think this is an unavoidable
consequence of trying to express
the Vietnamese part of my
identity through the English
language. Lunar New Year is
known as Tet in Vietnamese,
which simply means “beginning
of the year,” but because English-

speaking
countries
celebrate

the beginning of the year on a
different day (as determined by
the Gregorian calendar rather
than a lunar one), it becomes
necessary to distinguish between
the two New Years. Since most
people in, say, the United States
will assume I’m referring to Jan.
1 when I speak of “New Year.” It
becomes almost natural for me to
place the cultural marker on New
Years that begin any other day.

It is a strange situation because

it seems as though I am feeding into
the perpetual foreigner syndrome
on one level and going mad with
political correctness on another.
Even the labels I have chosen for
myself don’t quite offer sufficient
explanations. The part of me that
ends up as the “Other” depends
on the language I am using. It is
just as true that my American side
sounds foreign when I speak of it
in Vietnamese. Certain concepts
behind American traditions don’t
exist in Vietnamese culture, so it
is hard to directly translate.

To be honest, I am not sure

what the solution is. Perhaps my
best option is to make do with
what I have until I discover ways
to express some of my identities
without undermining the rest.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
Monday, February 19, 2018 — 3A

The time is late. I do not even

have to check my clock to tell.
What started as a crusade in
my bed has slowly crept its way
to having set my alarm on my
phone, plugging my phone into
my charger and sitting cross-
legged on my carpeted apartment
floor. Outside, the normal buzz of
campus, so alive during the day,
has died down. It is hard to believe
it is the same place during the day.
My roommate has already fallen

asleep and even the drunk party-
goers have stumbled back to their
places.

The white glow from my

smartphone illuminates my face
as I scroll through organization
after
organization
on
Maize

pages, another thing to pad the
résumé, another thing to self-
improve. The familiar touch of
flesh on glass guides my thumb
along. “Come on Young, just put
it to rest,” I think, but my thumb
keeps scrolling, unable to silence
the voice in my head.

There are not many things

that Americans praise more than

the rugged individual, one of the
bedrocks of American ideals.
Pull yourself up by your own
bootstraps. The value of a life
well-lived determined by the wear
and tear of your boots. Perhaps
even to the point you aren’t even
wearing
boots
anymore
and

are just walking barefoot with
cracked skin and blisters. Society
lauds the student who is part of 17
organizations and somehow still
goes to class and excels.

The interesting thing about

America is that it is not enough to
just have people suffering in our
country, but there are institutions,
policies and groups that are
established to keep the poor and
marginalized suffering. Society
looks at homeless folks and people
with addictions and boxes them
and their humanity into the effort
they put in life and are so eager to
see them suffer because of it.

The reality society has to face

is that the stereotypical welfare
mom
who’s
working
several

part-time jobs is not putting in
any less “effort” than the CEO of
the Fortune 500 company. Yet,
society never lauds the mom,
but we always hear about the
CEO. Do we buy this message
because it is easier to do so? Do
we simplify the issue down to lack
of effort just because it removes
our
responsibility
to
others

and the weight on our moral
conscious if the real issue is more
complex? Society does not want
to acknowledge mental health.

It does not want to acknowledge
upbringing
and
access
to

opportunities
and
resources.

Rather society sees what it sees
and attributes it to laziness.

Society is so caught up on in our

nation of fairness because people
expect things for their hard work.
If people work hard, then things
should automatically be given to
them. It is not fair if others are just
as successful for minimal effort.
People are so eager to make other
people try just as hard too, using
the few anomalies of individuals
living off the system to justify a
whole. The person serving food
in the dining hall who is trying to
get to medical school has all the
same hopes and ambitions as the
one who has all the tutors in the
world.

And the thing is, I bought this

message, hard. The biggest lie I
ever believed in. It also was not
even just about myself; it affected
how I viewed other people too.
In third grade, I participated in
a bike race for elementary school
students. After the race, I was
eating pizza with my family when
a homeless man walked by and
started rummaging through the
trash for remnants of food. I asked
my dad why that man was looking
through the garbage. Wasn’t that
gross? Seeing an opportunity for
a life lesson, my dad told me that
was how people ended up if they
didn’t make good life decisions
and choices. If they didn’t work
hard enough. I have forgotten the

rest of the conversation from that
day, but I will always remember
those words. In high school, it
became the reason my peers were
in regular classes and struggling
to pass. In my ignorant view, they
just did not work hard enough (no
longer do I hold these beliefs).

More effort became the answer

to everything for me. Don’t like
how your life is shaping up?
Simple. Just try harder. Always
forward. Crunch every minute
out of every day. Just do it. If
you’re not going somewhere, then
you’re not worthy. If you’re not
producing, then you’re falling
behind. Leaders and the best. So I
numbed myself. I got busy to the
point where it all blended together.
Escalating to the summer after my
freshman year when I had to quit
everything instead of being able
to achieve everything I had set
to do. Procrastinating was never
my issue. Instead, it was always
seeking more. At least this way, I
was “moving” or “progressing”
onto something else. It became
a weight on my shoulders that I
did not know how to be without. I
craved the anxiety being busy gave
me. I became my harshest critic;
nitpicking every little thing about
me. If I was obsessed enough, then
things would work out.

I am not saying setting goals

and striving is bad. However, with
rates of anxiety and depression for
students climbing every year, this
obsessive, borderline-stalker love
affair with effort is toxic and must

stop. It is perpetually feeding this
cycle to the point other people
become seen as nuisances and
hindrances to personal goals
and ambitions. We will continue
to achieve things if we keep the
status quo, but will we get there
in pieces or will we get there
enjoying the process? Life doesn’t
have to feel like a series of putting
out fires. Stop and take a pause.
Take time for self-care, not only
for you but because it will affect
those around you as well. Whether
it be personal, career or societal,
let’s aim for progress that is truly
progress rather than just the
results. Let’s stop the comparison
game of always defining success
by borderline burnout. Hard work
and dedication are important, but
at what cost?

I
confess
my
love
affair

with
hard
work,
my
own

Shakespearean sonnet. It is the
thing I am not complete without,
the thing that keeps me up at
night. It’s the thing that causes me
to ignore my own well-being. You
see, diligence is intimately tied
with my Asian yellow immigrant
skin. It symbolizes my mother,
always serving. During the week,
she tenderly cares for patients at
the hospital; at home, she cooks
food and does laundry and, on
the weekends, she is serving at
church. Her hands are never still.

What Black Panther means to me

YOUNG LEE
MiC Columnist

Bootstrap loving: on progress and work ethics

Sadhana Ramaseshadri

Read more at
MichiganDaily.com

Interested in being on the
Michigan in Color
podcast? Email us at
michiganincolor@
umich.edu.

As soon as I heard Marvel

was planning to create a Black
superhero movie, I was psyched. I
love Marvel and as a Black person
and a Nigerian, it wasn’t that hard
to notice the lack of representation
in Marvel movies as I grew up.
But I knew the release of “Black
Panther” would change that. A
movie taking place in Africa that
doesn’t show it in a degrading light
with a soundtrack produced by the
legendary Kendrick Lamar? It was
perfect.

The one thing I think I loved

the most about the movie was
the portrayal of the fictional
African country, Wakanda. Most
times when African countries are
created for movies, it’s so it can be
portrayed as a terrible third world
country without actually insulting
any real African countries. But
the movie portrayed Wakanda,
supposedly set in Central Africa,
as a gorgeous, technologically-
advanced place, with a rich culture
and vibrant thriving people. It
effectively showed the Africa that
I see and love, instead of just the
stereotypes
and
exaggerations

we’re all made to believe.

Not only was the portrayal of

the country Wakanda positive,
it accurately captured different
African cultures as well. Their
vernacular, accents and languages
reminded me of the way Nigerians
spoke. The clothes they wore were
similar to something someone
in Nigeria would wear, and their
dances and chants reminded me of
ceremonies and family gatherings
back home. They were also able
to intertwine the supernatural
aspect of superhero stories with
the mystique and sacredness of
African traditions and folklore
without ridicule.

Another thing I loved about the

movie was how they touched upon
the complex dynamic between
Africans and African Americans.
As a first-generation immigrant
Nigerian living in the United
States, it’s easy for me to see this
disconnect. Even though they’re
both Black, Africans and African
Americans
don’t
always
see

themselves as the same people, as
African Americans’ identities are
more strongly tied to the United
States while Africans’ identities
are more closely tied to their home
countries in Africa. Thus, Africans
(including those living in America)

and
African-Americans
don’t

always see the need to support
each other as they don’t always see
themselves as the same people.

This is brought up in the

movie when the character Erik
Killmonger wants to use the
resources of Wakanda to help the
disenfranchised Black people in
the United States. This is because
he’s
half
African
American,

half Wakandan and grew up in
America. This is contrary to the
Wakandans who only believe that
“their people” are only Wakandan
people, not other Black people
across the diaspora, which is
extremely analogous to Africans
and the lack of unity between
them and African Americans.

The
dynamic
between

Africans and African Americans
is a concept that is typically not
explored in present-day media
and culture and, as someone who
finds it prevalent in their everyday
life, I’m extremely glad “Black
Panther” decided to tackle it.

The last thing I loved about

“Black Panther” that I have to
talk about is the amazing Black
cast and the portrayal of Black
women. The female characters
in “Black Panther” RAN that
movie. The country of Wakanda

literally had an army solely
made up of women, women who
were willing to put anything on
the line to defend their country
and the throne. King T’Challa’s
younger sister Shuri was SINGLE-
HANDEDLY
IN
CHARGE

OF
ALL
TECHNOLOGICAL

ADVANCEMENTS
AND

INNOVATIONS IN THE NATION.
Okay yes, maybe a 16 year old
being in charge of a whole nation’s
technological section was a little
far-fetched. But I’m completely
fine with Marvel making things
a little unrealistic at times if
it’s with the intent of creating
powerful
women
characters.

Besides the female cast, the rest
of the Black cast was extremely
amazing and it was refreshing to
see so many powerful, humanized
Black figures up on the screen.
Additionally, many were actual
African
actors,
which
was

extremely inspiring to see as an
aspiring African actress.

I could go on about this movie

for many more paragraphs, but all
in all I found the movie amazing
and extremely well done. It was
full of powerful characters, actors
and actresses that I, along with
multiple others, will look up to for
a long time.

I am sorry, but exclusively

dating white women is not “just
a preference.”

At the root of your exclusion

of women of color from your
dating pool lies a deep-seated
allegiance to whiteness so that
you and your kin can continue
to benefit from white privilege.
Further, straying from white
women as your
partners
of

choice
could

have dastardly
consequences
that result in
the
dilution

of your family
and your own
perceived
whiteness.

So,
let’s

make it clear:
No one is the
passive victim
of their own
internalized
biases. It is not a coincidence that
the girl that you had relations
with last week looks like your
sister, mom, aunt or the random
Gap ad you found yourself
staring at for a little too long.

You have had choices this

cuffing season and every other
cuffing season. And to think that
you don’t, or that your romantic
attraction is out of your control,
you’re kidding both yourself and
everyone around you.

You exclusively date white

women
because
trying
to

understand
someone
else’s

world is too difficult — and white
privilege is as valuable as gold
in a country overflowing with
Trump apologists and white
resentment.

Not to mention, there is a

worldwide cultural obsession
with
looking,
acting
and

appealing
to
whiteness
in

romance. Many women of color

are encouraged from a young age
to use skin-lightening creams,
use apps to make their eyes
wider and conform to white
societal standards of beauty.
The entire world is tied into this
white privilege.

And you, Mr. “I-only-date-

white-girls”
reinforce
the

intrinsic value of whiteness in
this nation.

Saying that you “prefer” white

women is racist. Well, maybe not
racist to you, except it’s hard
for me to find another word to

refer to someone
making negative
assessments
of

large groups of
individuals that
they’ve
never

met, based solely
on
the
color

of
their
skin.

It’s
ultimately

a
bigoted
and

harmful
way

to think about
potential
partners.

Saying
that

you
prefer

certain women to others not
only
reinforces
stereotypes

about women of color, but white
women too. Arguing that you
prefer
white
women
based

on the presuppositions that
white women are inherently
more beautiful, passive, kind
or financially-stable is — you
guessed it — racist!

And not only is it racist, but it’s

insincere.

You know that a white woman

will let you ignore your privilege
a lot more than a woman of color
will. Shoot, a majority of white
women voted for Trump. For the
most part, women of color aren’t
going to put up with that. Unless
her name is Omarosa.

Let me be clear: I don’t

expect you to reject your white
privilege.

But don’t act like you don’t

have it, like you’re not protecting
it or that it doesn’t exist.

Race & dating

ALLISON BROWN

MiC Columnist

Not just “Chinese” New Year

“You exclusively
date white women

because trying
to understand
someone else’s

world is too
difficult ”

ELIZABETH LE

MiC Columnist

EFE OSAGIE

MiC Assistant Editor