Yellow Peril Parenting

Dear World:

I’ve been a little pain in the ass to my new parents lately.  I’m not sure yet if I’m doing it on purpose or if I’m biting, peeing all over the place when excited, and running at warp speed because I’m just a puppy.  In any case, I know that Yejin and Nico are feeling it in their legs, their arms, their patience, their sanity, etc. 

But I'm an ANGEL!

Anyways, watching them use different strategies with me after reading books on dog training has been interesting.  They have tried ignoring me when I’m particularly hyper.  They’ve tried yelping loudly when I bite them too hard.  They’ve tried the booming “NO” when I get a hold of their sock (and a little bit of their toes).  They've tried techniques used by the Dog Whisperer (see below).

I AM BOSS!

The most peculiar thing about their parenting stylescome out when we’re on walks and strangers either touch me without asking permission or let their aggressive dogs come running to “play” with me.  My dad just picks me up, has a really brief  conversation with the person, and then calmly moves on.  It may be perceived as rude, but I like it just fine.  My mom, however, keeps me on the ground, DARES the person and/or dog to approach, and then asks questions like, “when was your dog last vaccinated?” and “do you often touch things that aren’t yours without asking permission?”  This usually turns into a pleasant conversation, but I think it’s hilarious that she starts off the exchange with accusatory, biting and maternal questions.   Oh, parenting.

And last night my mom started watching youtube videos of people training their Shiba puppies.  There was one video where a 7-week old pup was doing things like sitting, laying down, high-fiving, and rolling over.  I saw a glimpse of crazy in her eyes as she became fiercely jealous that this young puppy was so obedient.  Immediately, she began reviewing the different puppy kindergarten classes she had researched.  She spoke softly to Nico about when to start training me, that maybe they should enroll me in agility classes, as well.  I, of course, didn’t give a shit.  But it was funny to watch her frenetic research.

See YouTube videos:

Typical.  Mom was marked as an “overachiever,” and, of course, the “model minority” growing up. To better understand this term, see cartoon below:

© 2008 Neal Yamamoto

Though this is not the right venue to talk about the politics of "model minorities" and the way in which this narrative supports supposed hierarchies of power/privilege, acknowledging this is important in understanding who she is.  Mom's parents pushed her beyond her limits like it was their day job.  Actually, it WAS their day job.  She had the privilege of having a mom who was able to stay home with her and her brother to make sure that she did all her homework, enrolled in all the right classes, had the “perfect” (read: overwhelming) amount of extra-curricular activities, demonstrated leadership in school, etc.  She competed in many piano and voice competitions.  Not a lot of time for friends, of which she had few.  Mom never complained though, and now is extremely appreciative of the tremendous support her mother demonstrated.  A couple of weeks before Yejin’s mom passed away, she said, “my greatest fear is that I did not help you see how wonderful you are, and how wonderful you can be.” 

Parenting.  Damn.

It’s complicated.  And I know, I KNOW I’m super late to the whole “Tiger Mom,” East vs. West parenting philosophy explosion, but I will talk about things when I want to talk about them!  So here it is: Mandu’s thoughts on Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother: This is a story about a mother, two daughters, and two dogs.  This was supposed to be a story of how Chinese parents are better at raising their kids than Western ones.  But instead, it’s about a bitter clash of cultures, a fleeting taste of glory, and how I was humbled by a thirteen-year-old.

There are already some great critiques of this book/philosophy from the eyes of Asian-Americans who have personally experienced the wrath/love of a Tiger Mother.  It is certainly important to acknowledge the ways in which this parenting philosophy can and does impact the emotional/psychological/physical health of children.  There are great critiques that showcase how this book may perpetuate the idea of East Asian/Asian-American Exceptionalism, especially in face of other people of color.  The point of my blog post is not to address these particular issues, but to give my puppy perspective on why the broader, less clever critiques of the book (and the philosophy) are annoying.

Argument #1:  Tiger Mother supports and perpetuates emotional/psychological/physical abuse that should not be tolerated in the United States.

First of all, most of the people who are/were spouting these heavy words are not people who have experienced this type of parenting model.  Many of them are mothers who have used very different strategies with their children who may feel invalidated by the  book’s ideas.  Please do not speak of people or experiences that are not your own.  People have their own voices. 

Secondly, emotional/psychological/physical abuse should not be tolerated anywhere.  Please do not imply that abuse exists more in other countries than it does in the U.S. – that is invalidating and untrue.  Thirdly, people (and puppies!) should be able to identify for themselves whether something is abusive.  There aren’t necessarily behaviors that can be universally blanketed as abusive.  For instance, my mom experienced corporeal punishment up the wazoo.  Her mother had rulers in almost every drawer in the house just in case her grades were bad, she talked back, she lied about something, she didn’t practice piano as long as she was supposed to, etc.  She did/does NOT consider this abusive.  Other people may, but other folks can keep their thoughts to themselves.  This is not to say that other people who experienced similar punitive measures do not experience this as abusive. 

Lesson: Don't label, name and pathologize things for other people. 

Argument #2:  Tiger Mother implies that you cannot be a good parent if you do not punish your kids, scare them into submission, and act as an evil, bitch-mother.

My mother’s mom punished her kids, but did not scare them into submission, and certainly was not an evil, bitch-mother.  Amy Chua wrote a highly personalized (and selectively satirical) memoir about her experience as a mother and was not really telling every mother out there to call her children “garbage” or emotionally coerce children to play very difficult piano pieces.  She wrote that these strategies worked for her daughter since her daughter was so pleased and was “beaming” when she had finally succeeded.  So she is not saying that punish kids à successful kids.  The false negative of this statement is, do not punish kids à do not have successful kids, which is the argument these people are making.  So a false negative based on an argument that wasn’t even made is pretty much doubly invalid.  BOOYAH!

Lesson: With or without punishment, you can be a good parent.  But how funny are dunce caps??

SHAME!

Argument #3:  I AM NOT A HORRIBLE MOTHER!  CHUA IS SAYING I’M A HORRIBLE MOTHER!

 I cannot speak to this.  You’ll have to ask your kids about whether or not you're  failure.

Chua had an interview with Jezebel (one of my favorite blogs) and insightfully explained why this book has caused so much uproar.  She stated, “We parents, including me, are all so anxious about whether we’re doing the right thing.  You can never know the results.  It’s this latent anxiety.”   Click here for full article.

 No one wants to be told that they have completely or partially fucked their kid (or puppy) up, whether the fucked-up-ness came from being too strict/harsh or being too laissez-faire.  But, people, don’t let your own anxieties lead you to make assumptions/determinations about other cultures.  This is not a competition of which culture will prevail or which is superior (I’m pretty sure the trajectory of these arguments are majorly frowned upon). 

Lesson: people fear the Yellow Peril.

The many faces of the Yellow Peril:

Oops...how did THIS one get here?!  Too political?

Argument #4:  Honestly, WESTERN approaches to parenting are much better.  I mean, WE are the leaders of the world.

MMMMM…what is a “Western” approach, anyway?  This dichotomy that people create and perpetuate between the West and the East is reductionist and simplistic.  Chua is guilty of doing this, too.  Um, I’m pretty sure there are millions of Asian Pacific Islanders in the West, and I’m pretty sure that ideas that people identify as “Western” are not bound by borders of constructed nation-states.  Being cognizant of social norms, navigating the distinction between self and group…since when has the West had a monopoly over these things?  This is just so dumb.

Also, check yourself on the whole “leaders of the world thing.”  Again, you just say that as a preemptively reactionary response to your fear of the Yellow Peril.  MUAHAHA.

Lesson: This is what would happen if Tiger Mothers take over the world:

Tiger Mother eats her young AND the whole world.

SUMMARY: 

Everyone:  Please stop having a culture/philosophy competition.  Universalities that come from this type of competition are usually useless and only serve the purpose of feeling culturally superior.  Which is scary. 

Also, I think people are just mad that East Asian moms get to be tigers.  I mean, look at how badass they are!

Uh oh.  I think mom is about to buy a clicker.  I DO NOT WANT TO BE CLICKER TRAINED!!!  If mom tries to get me to become an overachieving model-minority, I’m going to rebel.  Maybe I’ll drop out of AP puppy kindergarten, listen to absolutely nothing she says and start an indie rock band.  I’ll probably play the guitar, like my dad. 

Just so you know, World…I also fear the Yellow Peril (a.k.a YEJIN).

I'm OUT. 

Love and Rage,

Triple M (Mandu, the Model Minority)

Vanity: Adorable Pictures of Yours Truly

Dear World:

My dad took me on this fabulous walk the other day, and there was this strange looking vehicle that people seem to call a "party bus" parked by the curb.  I didn't find it particularly fascinating, not until I saw that there was a mirror on one of the doors.  Folks, I saw myself.  I REALLY saw myself.  Not in one of those profound, inner-beauty-soul-searching kind of ways.  I mean, I am HOT.  And to tell you the truth, since I'm such a humble being, I was not expecting to look so wonderfully beautiful.  God, I'm just the greatest.


(Just for your reference...Vanity is defined as "excessive pride in or admiration of one's own appearance or achievements."  But how does one measure whether pride is in the excess?  What if I truly deserve to be so proud?)

Anyways, I thought I would grace all of your eyes with pictures of myself. 

Aren't I just so dainty?  Look at the placement of my front paws -it's almost as though
I'm sitting on a horse the way a proper lady should.  When I sit like this, I like to use "she,"
"her," "them" or "theirs" as my pronouns.  Thank you.

As much as I make fun of my mom for overdoing it with the Hipstamatic App, I do love
these pictures of me that look "gritty."  Tyra would totally call this "ugly beautiful."
When you're this amazing looking, grit serves as an ironic lens.  Am I using "ironic" correctly?

People often ask me if I'm a fox.  I always respond (in my head, of course), "have you ever
even seen a picture of a fox?  I look like a dog.  Not a fox."  But then I see a picture
like this and some of the nonsense is forgiven.

I just wanted you all to see how fluffy my coat is these days.  Mom and dad gave me a
horrible thing called a "bath" the other day, but now I'm minimally grateful. 
I like being soft and clean.

Mom, the photographer, told me to "look away from the camera, pensive about something
profound." Have I pulled it off?  Don't make me laugh.  This picture is dripping with
intense and beautiful profundity. 

Gosh, I'm so embarassed that mom took a picture of me sleeping... I haven't even
fixed my face for this particular photoshoot!  Oh well, the "au nautrale" look
works relatively well for me.  I mean, I clearly own elegance and grace
like it's my dayjob, so I don't even have to prepare anything to
look amazing.

How did this one get in here?  Ugh, mom took an action shot of me stretching
after my long nap. 

Sometimes a proper background is what makes or breaks a photoshoot,
wouldn't you say?  We didn't need to be in Dumbo with all the "special"
scaffolding and the "cobble" stones.  All we needed was dad's enormous
slipper.

Damn, I really worked that slipper.  It doubled as a prop AND
as a pillow. 

Like most animals, I enjoy sleeping in a sun-kissed room.  Unlike most
animals, I look gorgeous while doing it. 

Beautiful monorail.  I can be super flat!

Yea,  mom's not looking so great, but I would like for you
to check out the adorable rolls I have on my  neck.  I know that people
are upset by the presence of rolls on their body, but I find
that I'm (insanely) beautiful because I find validation
in my own ego.  Also, I think every shape, size and color is
beautiful. 

World, I know you think I'm a bit ridiculous, what with my ego, pride, and mild narcissism.  But to tell you the truth, I think everyone should be able to love themselves with intensity.  Society and its narrow, profitable rules for what beauty can and cannot be can suck it. 


Maybe I will write a guide on ignoring/schooling society and on loving your body. 


Love, and even more LOVE,
Mandu

On Communication

Dear World:

People keep asking me, "Mandu - Why do you keep biting my hand/leg/foot/toe/forearm/nose/cheek?" Well, my dear, that's just how I express myself. I swear, I'm not trying to be a dick. On the internet I'm magically able to articulate myself through words and sarcasm, but, as you might imagine, I'm not able to do this vis-a-vis. I often wish I had that fantastical collar that Dug wears in the movie Up! Do you know how much easier my life would be if you just fucking understood what I was trying to say?

You may not be able to understand or read my biting expressions, but I am definitely intentional and thoughtful about what I do with my mouth. But, of course, as Derrida points out (yes, Jackie D and I are besties), meaning is never fixed in a way that allows us to effectively determine it. My intention does not determine the meaning of what I'm communicating. I get it - language is a complex social construct that existed prior to any of us using it, and in order to use it we need to understand its web of meanings in order to communicate with others. But why on earth do I have to understand YOUR ridiculously complex series of sounds and the meanings behind them? Why do you get all pissy when I have no idea what you're talking about? Honestly, all I can comprehend is whether you're excited or bored. Everything else sounds like the adults talking in Charlie Brown movies. Wompwompwompwomp...like that.

Anywho, my man Jackie D says that by privileging speech, we are closing off a whole "semantic domain that precisely does not limit itself to semantics, semiotics and even less to linguistics." Damn straight. So here's my proposal: set aside your hegemonic semantics, semiotics, and delve into the life of biting as a form of transmitting meaning. See picture of me communicating, "Bitch, I wanna play!" below:

I look ghoulish in this photo.  Please forgive my mom for incessantly using the
HipstamitcApp on her iphone, thinking it makes her "artistic."

What Humans Would Look Like If They Communicated Through Biting Instead of Talking:

1) "I am hungry"
Prance over to the fridge, and since you’re able to open the door with your weirdly shaped paws, venture inside and start sniffing the contents.  Hmm…old Chinese take-out?  How old?  Oh, too old.  Moldy block of cheese?  Is this blue cheese?  Nope, it’s cheddar…damn.  Is that all you have in your fridge?  Oh dear…you are hungry and you want to eat now.  Start whimpering.  Stuff your whole face into the fridge, deeply investigating each shelf to just make sure that you don’t have an edible meal in there.  Get your face caught between the metal inserts.  That’s fine, because now you have access to some goodies that spilled over.  Lick profusely.  You can no longer control yourself.  Bite, gnaw and lick SO hard that the fridge tips over. Run away, frightened. 

Walk to nearest restaurant to get some take out at your local Boston Market.  Your eyes become alert from the delicious smells.  Jump over the counter and attack rotisserie chickens.  When the cashier brings the manager over, growl severely and protect that juicy treat.

Mmmm...delicious chicken...

Take a big poo and then go to sleep.


2) "I am scared"
It’s 10pm, it’s a dark and stormy night, and you just indulged in a mini-marathon consisting of Criminal Minds and Law & Order: Special Victims Unit.  (You likely identify most with Dr. Reid and Detective Benson because you're beautiful, smart AND fiesty.)

Though you’re convinced that you are now an expert detective, a badass fighter, and a forensic psychologist who can identify serial killers, you are too far down the rabbit hole of paranoia to feel good about your newly aqcuired "skills".  Every sound you hear terrifies you.  Tentatively walk through the apartment, as though you’re hunting.  Appear this way to convince yourself and the potential intruder that you’re not actually terrified—actually, you are like a lioness on the lookout for a delicious, raw, fleshy meal.  You’re even scarier than whatever ghost/demon/serial killer is lurking in your home.  Bear your teeth, start growling to let your intruder know that someone is in the house and that they best not fuck with you.  Slowly fall asleep by the door, armed with your sharp teeth, alert mind, and TV-detective training.  Someone walks through the door.  ATTACK IMMEDIATELY WITH SHARP TEETH!  DRAW BLOOD!  SHAKE WHATEVER IS IN YOUR MOUTH AS THOUGH YOU’RE BREAKING ITS NECK.

Oh.  It’s your partner.  And how their arms and legs are completely mangled.  Whoops.  That’ll teach them to scare you.  They KNOW you have these marathons every Sunday evening.

3) "I am horny"
You just watched a steamy romance/thriller starring [insert the person of your naughty dreams].  Strange, tingly sensations are stirring.  Frantically look around you.  Is there anything to dry hump?  Ugh, but dry humping is so unsatisfying.  Start looking for people to bang in your house (you live alone, but you don't remember that...raging hormones mar logic and sanity, just so you know).  Sniff, bite, dry-hump.  Sniff, bit, dry-hump. 
It’s not enough. 

Run outside with your ears tucked back and your tail wildly wagging.  Alternate between sniffing butts and testing the waters through gentle à aggressive biting.  Bite people’s necks, butt, stomachs.  Find consenting partner.  Mount.  Dismount.  See picture below for instrunctions on propert dismounting form:

Shake your head because now that you communicate through biting, you always cause too many sex-related injuries.

4) "I am pissed"
You are walking down the street on an absolutely gorgeous day.  You know you’re beautiful because, hey, everyone is (and deserves to feel) beautiful, so your walk (pleasantly) reeks of confidence and happiness.  Suddenly, an unsuspecting hand comes to touch you.  Who the—??

Think to yourself, “Dude, haven’t you heard of CONSENT?  Consent is sexy!”  That hand does not deserve mercy, so immediately turn your head around with your teeth bearing.  You sharpen your canines for this very reason.  If said hand doesn’t leave, viciously attack with your face and mouth. 

When this rude/awful person becomes angry by your response and spouts ridiculous phrases, like “you were asking for it” and “don’t dress like a [insert oppressive word here],” jump up on them and bite areas that hurt more.  When they start walking away from you, but you can still feel their indignant entitlement, bite their ankles as they walk.  That’ll show them.

5) "I am bored"
It’s a Friday  night and you were hoping to go party/bar hopping but your partner wants to stay in and watch a mini-marathon of Downton Abbey.  You love your partner, so you stay home with them.  After falling in and out of love with Maggie Smith about forty times in the span of two hours, you start becoming antsy. 

"What is a weekend?"

Start running around the couch over and over again until your partner peels their eyes of the TV screen.  When they finally stretch out their hand to give you affection, lightly bite them to see if they’re down to play.  They take their hand away, annoyed that you are biting.  Frown.  Frown some more.  Maybe bark.  Run around in crazy circles again, hitting everything you can like you’re living in a pinball machine.  When your partner screams, “HEY!” loudly to get you to stop, bark, jump on their face and lightly nibble again.  They roll their eyes and ignore you.  You.  Hate.  That.  Find partner’s favorite things in the apartment (like their guitar or their iphone) and chew the SHIT out of it.  Look up from broken item and wag your butt.

6)  “I am happy”
You just went on a long walk in the park and got to hang out with new and wonderful people.  You are surrounded by people who love you.  Everything is just pretty fucking great.  Your partner sits next to you as you quietly enjoy people/bird-watching from your apartment.  Gently take a finger and lovingly nibble.  Nibble a little harder, to show just HOW happy you are.  Bark, with a smile on your face, and lick your partner’s face.

So, you may think that I'm just a mouthy pup, but clearly I am articulating millions of things to you that you are just too silly to understand.

Hmph!

So, if I may, I will continue destroying everything with my crazy sharp baby teeth. 


Love and Rage,
Mandu, the Mouthy Master