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Should the above title make you nervously expect a punch line of questionable taste to follow, just bear with me for a wee bit longer and all will be revealed.

If in our working world, there is a green thumb for the kind of money that grows on trees, then my thumb, figuratively speaking, typically stays in the red. That’s not the punch line yet, folks. Contrary to the stereotypes about Asian Americans being good with numbers, my savoir faire falls resoundingly to the side of the Liberal Arts. So why then should I take even the remotest interest in a New York Times article entitled “Is There Room at the Top for Black Executives?” by Ron Stodghill?

I think one of the most unfortunate results of excessive ethnocentrism is the view that falling into one particular minority demographic would preclude one from taking an interest in other minority demographics. In mainstream media, there seems to be this obsessive bipolar lock on how we discuss ethnicity, usually with the white majority as the go-to dance partner while the other minority groups each wait their turn on the floor.

The Punch Line

So here’s the punch line: in a truly ethnically enlightened society, an African-American CEO and an Asian-American Blogger occurring in the same sentence really shouldn’t have to seem like part of a punch line. In other words, the real joke is that a dialogue about members of two different minority groups (without the white majority) sadly seems more likely to occur within the context of vulgar ethnic humor.

So let’s make the title work and address the question I asked earlier, “Why should I, as an Korean-American with no direct background in business, take the remotest interest in a New York Times article about the state of black American corporate executives?” Well, for one thing, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that what has bearing on one minority group has bearing on others as well.

If there is a dearth of black executives in the corporate world, particularly given that blacks are one of our longest standing minority groups in U.S. history, then it stands to reason that other minorities may suffer a similar lack of representation. Of course there are experiences and conditions unique to each ethnic group, but looking at the plight of one minority group can serve as a bellwether for other groups.

But beyond the motive of self-interest by proxy, I believe that regardless of what demographic one belongs to, accepting a state of ignorance about other cultural groups with which we share this country invariably leads to the toxic by-product of bigotry, both overt and covert, both conscious and unconscious.

Can’t See Forest for the Trees

What struck me most about the article was that several of the black executives interviewed expressly stated wanting to be treated on the basis of their performance, whether good or poor, as individuals before the labeling of their black identity (if at all in the case of the latter).

The fact that they even need to provide the disclaimer, almost as if in some reflexive defense mechanism, is symptomatic of the problems that all ethnic minorities face in a dominant white society—the difficulty of seeing the individual before seeing the perceived attributions of the individual’s ethnic group. I discussed this issue in my earlier posting entitled, “Don’t Doubt the Benefit of the Doubt.”

But therein lies the pointed irony, despite claims of our living in a color-blind society, you can’t get to the individual without first properly understanding your own conceptualization of said individual’s identity—a process that is not always so easy to do.

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

Fox News’ Bill O’Reilly problematic comments of a few weeks back provide an excellent case example. Several weeks ago, he had made headlines for certain statements he had made on his radio show while recounting his dinner with Reverend Al Sharpton at Sylvia’s, a black-owned restaurant in Harlem.

On his radio show, he was discussing interethnic relations with Fox News analyst Juan Williams, specifically between blacks and whites. He cited his experience at Sylvia’s as a sign of social progress for blacks in America.

In the course of his dialogue with Mr. Williams, Mr. O’Reilly indicated surprise by stating he “couldn’t get over the fact” that there was no difference between black-owned Sylvia’s and other restaurants.

“It was like going into an Italian restaurant in an all-white suburb in the sense of people were sitting there, and they were ordering and having fun,” he said. “And there wasn’t any kind of craziness at all.”

In general, I am not a fan of Mr. O’Reilly’s role in mainstream media (similar to that of his counterparts like Lou Dobbs or Glenn Beck) in which he blurs his role as a demagogic pundit with declarations of being the American everyman, or in Mr. O’Reilly’s specific case, sometimes even with protestations of being the maligned “outsider” to mainstream media which he imbues with an overall liberal bias.

My honest belief is that Mr. O’Reilly meant to express relatively progressive views on the topic of interethnic relations, but his comments demonstrated perfectly the kind of bigotry that is in some ways more difficult to guard against or argue against than overt racism, because the initial intention was so well-meaning. He exhibited the classic soft bigotry of low expectations, or to put it more colloquially, he paid a back-handed compliment to Sylvia’s, and by problematic proxy, the black community.

For those who still believe his comments to be innocuous and the rest of us are being too critical or over-reactive, I find that role-reversal sometimes helps to point out the inherent myopia of a given perspective, and the blogger “Black Sentinel” effectively illustrates this in “Restaurant Review Bill O’Reilly Style,” a biting parody in which she as a black customer reviews a fictional white-owned restaurant.

Free Your Mind, The Rest Will Follow

Being a nationally recognized media figure, it’s too easy to pick on Mr. O’Reilly’s foibles to feel better about ourselves in our ostensibly superior social sensitivity, but at least he has engaged and continues to engage members of another ethnic demographic (in this case the black community) in dialogue. We as individuals would do better to carefully examine how we might also embody bigotries hidden even to ourselves that foster through a lack of engagement with worlds beyond our everyday familiarity.

This could entail a Korean-American blogger reading about black corporate executives in the New York Times or a white news pundit sharing a meal with Reverend Al Sharpton in a black-owned restaurant in Harlem—small steps towards greater understanding. The learning curve exists for every single one of us.

Living as a minority in the United States, there is one particular luxury that I have always envied about the white majority, a feature of their cultural existence that ethnic minorities are not easily afforded, particularly those ethnic minorities with features that would identify them as distinctly non-European. A white person (I speak of those who have assimilated by more than one generation into the American mainstream) has the benefit of being perceived, more often than not, as an an individual before any assumed generalizations about his or her ethnic group.

Take for example my experiences in meeting new people: I am on occasion confronted with what my fellow minorities would recognize as “the question.” It is the question of one’s ethnic identity. For the most part, there is no intended ill will meant by such the inquiry–it comes from a genuine, if perhaps socially indiscreet, desire to know. Such curiosity is doubtlessly further spurred by the ethnic uncertainty proposed by my last name (which is another story altogether).

The range of tact inherent to the query varies according to the inquirer’s deftness with words and relative sensitivity to cultural matters. In attempting to “learn” about my ethnic identity, I’ve been asked, “What’s your background?”, “What’s your nationality?”, “Where are you from?”, “Where were your parents born?”, “Where were you born?”, “Are you Chinese?”, “Are you Japanese?”, and my favorite one that seems to question the evolutionary viability of my very being, “What are you?”

Depending on my mood, the question asked, and the person asking, my answer will vary. To questions about my nationality and where I was born, I usually respond with deliberate obtuseness that I’m an American who was born in Chicago. If I’m feeling charitable, I’ll eventually tell them the information they were really after–that I’m Korean American–but not without a dramatic pause in the pernicious hope that the asker will realize the folly of the assumptions inherent to his or her question. Sometimes I may redirect the question with all the ingenuousness I can muster, “Oh, do you mean my ethnic background?”

But no matter which form of “the question” is asked, and no matter how I answer, I always feel compelled to ask back (although I never have), “Why is it important for you to know that particular detail about myself; and if I were white, would you have asked the same question (with the intent of learning my ethnic background)?

This is not to say I don’t want to share with other people that significant part of me that informs my identity. But usually the intent behind the question seems not be out of a genuine desire to learn more about my Korean heritage so much as the compulsion to categorize me under whatever superficial knowledge the asker has about my particular ethnic group. Why not ask me what television shows I like, first? What books I’ve read? What I do for a living? To my mind, a first meeting is about trying to establish common ground, not to look for differences.

Individuals are not the only ones guilty of this tendency. It happens on an institutionalized level, as well. Take the striking contrast of the media portrayal and public perception of the Oklahoma City bombing against the the more recent 9/11 attacks.

At the outset of coverage for the Oklahoma City bombing, there was initial speculation that those responsible for blowing up the Murrah Federal Building could have been terrorists of Middle Eastern origin. It came as quite a surprise to the viewing public when the perpetrators turned out to be two white Americans.

Following the tragedy, there was some concern about radicalized white militias living in the United States, but those perception have not been sustained in the public consciousness the same way the fear of Muslim radicals has. The public had developed the conviction that individuals like Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols were horrific exceptions to the perceived rule of generally law-abiding whites. We were not haunted by a lingering fear that every white person was lying in wait to blow us to kingdom come.

Has that same luxury of finding the exception to the rule applied to Muslims in the wake of 9/11? Following the aftermath, various government officials had to warn the general populace against attacking in unthinking retribution against innocent people perceived to be of Middle Eastern heritage. People were warned that such offenses would be prosecuted as federal hate crimes.

Despite the warnings, some bigoted vitriol spilled over, even into ethnic communities whose religious background was not even Muslim! Peruse this article from The Pluralism Project at Harvard for more information on reported hate crimes post 9/11: http://www.pluralism.org/research/profiles/display.php?profile=74090. In the case Oklahoma City bombings, insofar as potential citizen backlash against targeting particular white communities, there were no such similar concerns.

Furthermore, the mass media hasn’t helped in the average Muslim’s plight. By devoting the majority of their air time regarding Muslims to the most radical fringe elements of Islam, these extremists have unfairly come to reflect upon the majority of citizens who are law-abiding. Viewers are rarely given enough examples of everyday Muslims to dispel an irrational fear against entire ethnic groups. Representation of the white majority spans a huge spectrum, which allows us to consider white individuals on a case by case basis, in lieu of any perceived characteristics of “whiteness.”

For all ethnic minorities, this kind of racial profiling has come to mean an egregious double-standard. Blacks and Latinos have historically fought constantly against perceptions that have denied them fair, individualized treatment in regards to housing, education, employment, and the law. In the interests of “national security” during World War II, Japanese Americans in the US were forcibly detained in prison camps while no such initiatives were taken for German Americans. Minorities are still haunted by assumptions and generalizations that deny the primacy of individuality.

So to the white majority I say, don’t doubt the benefit of the doubt, and don’t forget to give your fellow citizens (who happen to be ethnic minorities), an equal measure of individual assessment.

“World is suddener than we fancy it. / World is crazier and more of it than we think, / incorrigibly plural.”–Louis MacNeice

When I try to fathom the vast hodgepodge of cultures that has come together to define this entity called the United States, I am in absolute awe. There are few more apt descriptions to apply to this country than the aforementioned lines quoted from poet Louis MacNeice’s poem “Snow.” In essence, the entire poem is a contemplation of seemingly impossible juxtapositions, for all the wonder and peril that they entail. What could be more quintessentially American?

Although juxtapositions can create connections, they certainly don’t guarantee the level integration implied by this nation’s default metaphor of multiculturalism: “the melting pot.” Its appeal doubtlessly lies in the suggestion of strength made implicit through its archetypal association with the forge: disparate metals come together to create the stronger amalgam of steel. But like many metaphors, when put up against a careful consideration of the thing it describes, it risks becoming a reductio ad absurdum.

Take for example the case of New York City, arguably one of the most diverse cities on this planet. As a point of civic pride, its denizens (of which I’m a member) will often tout the city’s status as a multicultural bastion. But even in a city as multifaceted as New York, going from one city block to the next can sometimes be a sobering demonstration of people’s proclivity towards living in enclaves that reflect their own particular cultural and/or socioeconomic status. Start out near Columbia University in Morningside Heights and either walk south to the Upper West Side or walk north to Washington Heights and further on to Harlem, then you’ll see what I mean.

Frankly, this complacency about our progressiveness regarding intercultural matters (hardly exclusive to New Yorkers) is the most insidious kind of bigotry, because it fails to acknowledge that resisting bigotry must be an ongoing process of self-education. Just because one eats sushi and owns a Sony PlayStation does not necessarily make one sensitive to Japanese culture. Just because one claims that one African American friend does not necessarily make one a soldier for civil rights. Just because one lives in a multicultural city like New York does not necessarily make one a citizen of the world.

Often, the integration we undeservingly congratulate ourselves for happens on these superficial levels of experience, excepting of course the overriding impetus of dominant Eurocentric culture. The melting pot is a compelling metaphor but ultimately flawed for its odd pairing of naïveté and self-directed jingoism. This is the kind of juxtaposition that doesn’t turn out for the best.

If I were called upon to construct a metaphor for these United States, I would make use of the “penumbra.” The penumbra is a phenomenon in our everyday lives, but it becomes most dramatically evident in the event of an eclipse. Astronomer’s use the term to define the shadowy border between complete illumination and complete darkness.

What I find so fascinating about the concept is that in essence, the penumbra does not entirely belong to either state but nonetheless is the delineation between the two. The thematic applications are particularly compelling to me as a person whose interests and convictions don’t always take him into the mainstream. Puttering around the outskirts and margins seems like a great way to get some perspective, and maybe in some way contribute to the bigger picture. We don’t get to learn much in those regions of absolute light and dark where everybody tends to say the same thing.

I don’t believe anyone can hold true dominion in thought, expression, or action—thank goodness. Everyone belongs, in their own fashion, to a minority perspective. The very nature of individuality guarantees this. Still, it doesn’t stop us from reaching out to seek a sense of belonging to something larger than ourselves. Minority viewpoints that converge can create amalgams or tensions, and if approached with the proper temperament, we sometimes can discover unexpected regions of great creativity and insights.

As for my own accounting in my plied metaphor of the penumbra, I am a Korean American male, but in many significant ways, that should say nothing beyond the fact. It should not preclude me from reading the works of Irish poet Louis MacNeice or discussing a short story by Mexican-American author Sandra Cisneros. Because I read poetry and fiction should not preclude me from discussing the graphic novel Persepolis by Iranian creator Marjane Satrapi or the The Dark Knight Returns by American creator Frank Miller. Because I have an interest in comics-related media should not preclude me from discussing Turkey’s petitioning to become a member of the European Union or wondering about the costs and benefits of the weakening US dollar in the global market.

We all in our own way live in this tenuous state called the penumbra, and in so doing, try to see the United States in the same way, whose regions of light and darkness often seem to defy all compromise. But we live in it nonetheless and hope we can be the wiser for it.