In this reflection, let’s refer to my spouse as Mike. Mike is of Italian and Irish descent, hailing from the outskirts of Boston. In other words, he’s white. During his typical day—whether it’s dropping the kids off at school or navigating the subway—he encounters numerous individuals who share his background. While they might not have any secret greetings or gestures, it’s possible I’m overlooking something.
As someone who is half-Asian and half-white, I often experience a unique connection with others like me. There’s a subtle acknowledgment, a shared understanding that says, “I recognize your mixed heritage, and I can relate to that.” I’ve dubbed this moment “That Hapa Moment.”
The term “Hapa” originates from the Hawaiian phrase “hapa haole,” which means half-white but has come to represent those of mixed Asian descent. In the 1970s, being of mixed Asian heritage was quite rare. As a child and teenager, I frequently faced questions like “Where are you from?” or “What are you?” My personal favorite was, “Ni hao. Do you cook Chinese food?” (For the record, I’m from California, I’m human, and no, I don’t).
Initially, such inquiries made me uncomfortable, yet they also instilled a sense of pride within me. I felt special, as if my uniqueness was recognized. Surrounded by mostly white peers, who often seemed mundane, I began to embrace my Asian heritage as something extraordinary. My family enjoyed cultural outings to Chinatown for dim sum alongside the more typical fare of grilled steaks and spaghetti. I cherished my Chinese-American relatives, which added to that sense of uniqueness.
However, everything changed during puberty. Male strangers often used my “slanted” eyes as an excuse to approach me, typically followed by statements like, “My last girlfriend was Japanese.” This objectification was not only infuriating but also absurd—like that time an old man asked if my boyfriend “liked Chinese food,” which made me cringe.
It never crossed my mind to ask Mike if he could whip up a stellar pot of mashed potatoes or if he had connections to the mafia (though I admit I do joke about drinking). Unlike me, he has never been exotified or fetishized—except for that one awkward boys’ trip to Montreal, which he prefers to keep under wraps. His name is distinctly Irish, but he identifies more with his Italian roots and excels at making a fantastic marinara. The key difference is that he can choose what aspects of his identity to share, while those of us who are hapas had narratives constructed for us long before we could voice our own truths.
When I meet another half-Asian individual in their 30s or 40s—perhaps a fellow parent at my children’s school—I don’t feel bombarded by ignorant questions. I don’t assume they speak a foreign language or were raised in tropical climates. Instead, I feel a bond forged from shared experiences. Maybe they too had a high school boyfriend who made an inappropriate joke or faced derogatory remarks from a stranger.
Today, being hapa is more common, and it’s no longer a rarity to see Asian men in relationships with white women. In fact, cab drivers, who were often the worst offenders in the past, now hardly glance my way, which could be due to my aging out of the “exotic Asian” stereotype rather than a broader societal shift. My kids, on the other hand, don’t see these distinctions. They blend effortlessly with their friends, who come from a variety of backgrounds, proudly declaring their mixed heritage as if discussing their favorite video game items.
Recently, we spent a week with my Chinese-American family, and afterward, a friend jokingly asked my kids if they saw many Chinese people on their vacation. My son, baffled, simply replied, “Huh?” To him, everyone was just Auntie So-and-So or Cousin This-and-That. He couldn’t distinguish between full Chinese relatives, hapas, or other ethnicities in the family. It’s become one big, blended family experience.
So, is this progress? My son likely won’t hear jokes about avoiding carbs in a joking manner, and my daughter probably won’t endure inappropriate “massage” references. Yet, they’ve absorbed so many cultural influences that they’ve emerged nearly…neutral. Their sense of identity might lack the uniqueness that comes from being different, and while we gain acceptance, we might also be losing a piece of what made us special.
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Summary
This reflection examines the complexities of mixed heritage in contemporary society, particularly the experiences of half-Asian individuals navigating their identities amid a predominantly white environment. The author contrasts their experiences with those of their white spouse, highlighting the unique challenges faced by hapas while acknowledging the progress made towards greater acceptance of diversity.