I just don't know

A single student has kept me preoccupied for the majority of the last three weeks. I want to tell his story, and how it intersects with my own, but am afraid that it requires so much background information that the average reader would simply become fatigued before he or she even read half of it. This is background information that I wanted to share many times throughout the past year and a half but was afraid to because I simply did not want my family and close friends to know about it. However, since my mom visited and witnessed what I dared not tell, I feel that I can divulge this information with a little more impunity, though I am still subject to the ire of locals who do not wish me to share such information. Whatever.

Racism is everywhere. It’s in every state in which I have lived, every neighborhood in which I have resided, even every school which I have attended. And yes, after living in the Marshall Islands for over a year and a half, I can safely, and sadly, thought not unexpectedly, say that racism exists in the Pacific. While in America there are many targets of various types of discrimination and xenophobia, in the Pacific the primary targets are Asians, due to simple geographic proximity and subsequent influence.

The stories in various Pacific countries are quite similar. An indigenous population begins to encounter increasing amounts of immigration from Asian peoples seeking more and better opportunities elsewhere. The Asians, both due to culturally esteeming hard work and education and due to being self-selected hearty immigrants, tend to over-achieve in their new countries compared to the indigenous populations, most of whom are relatively unfamiliar with the principles of a market based economy and how to successfully negotiate it. Asian businesses succeed while indigenous businesses struggle in markets that boasted only indigenous businesses less than a decade ago. Resentment begins to build, stereotypes emerge, and voila, racism jumps out of Pandora’s Box and begins to cultivate on the beaches of Pacific islands. This is an overly simplified explanation, butI think it suits the purposes of preparing the reader for the story I am about to share.

In Fiji, the targeted population has historically been Indians. In other parts of the Pacific, east Asians are targeted. Voracious international news junkies might remember the Chinese being more or less forced to flee the Solomon Islands due to violence directed towards them (imagine a smaller and more tropical Night of Broken Glass). In the Marshall Islands, the population in question is Chinese, specifically mainland Chinese since the Taiwanese government offer copious amounts of foreign aid in exchange for political support.

On the ground, the racism is more overt than it is in the United States, though that does not necessarily mean it is any stronger. Racial slurs are more common, particularly from drunks. Taxis sometimes refuse to stop for me. Parents have questioned my professional integrity and loyalty as a Chinese person teaching Marshallese youth. Even my mom, while she was visiting for a mere nine days, had a cigarette butt thrown at her and was told to “get out of this country.” Cases of physical violence do exist, though I have yet to encounter any personally.

Last year, shortly before I left for the summer, I wrote a series of five lengthy articles for the local newspaper detailing some of my experiences here as a Chinese person. I recently wrote a sixth after my mom visited and then left. They have been greeted mainly with praise, though admittedly the population that reads the newspaper (particularly the English articles) is not the same population which yells racial slurs at me or throws cigarette butts at my mom. I have taught entire units about xenophobia and racism, both theoretical and practical, in three different academic contexts. Has it helped? Probably not, except maybe with respect to a few personal relationships. But being from the United States has taught me that this kind of change never happens quickly, if at all. Moreover, I am under no kind of fantastical impression that racism is any worse here than it is in the United States, just a little more explicit.

Enough with the preamble, it’s time for chapter 1.

Every year Taiwan offers five Taiwan Scholarships to Marshallese seniors. These scholarships are without question the best “deal” for senior students. They include a round trip ticket from Majuro to Taipei, and a $1000 stipend every single month that the student is in Taiwan. Students typically spend five years in Taiwan, the first only studying Chinese, and the remaining four earning their degrees. The $1000 stipend more than covers tuition, room, and board. For students who don’t have very much money, don’t have a four-year degree granting institution within the country, and don’t have the means our resources to research and obtain other options, the fully funded and hassle free Taiwan Scholarships are a Holy Grail.

During the Taiwan Scholarship informational session, I was very pleased to see Henry in attendance and consequently take an application form. Henry is one of the most gifted students that we have. Compared with Jean last year, Henry might be more naturally gifted, though Jean was better educated. Henry comes from a 16 person household. That’s right, you read it correctly. I said 16 person household. His mom did not graduate from high school. His dad died when he was extremely young. In fact he doesn’t even know what happened to his dad. His neighborhood can politely be described as a slum. Most males are in their young 20s and dropped out of high school. I could go on and on about Henry’s background, but you get the point.

Despite his personal and family circumstances, Henry has proven himself to be an exceptional student. His grades have improved every single semester he has been in high school. Last semester he achieved a 4.0 GPA, bringing his overall GPA to roughly 3.5. He is a student body government officer, and the president of his class section. He writes for the local newspaper through the internship I created earlier this year. He sings in his own band. He helps a lawyer work on his ethnomusicology research. He was the lead in the school play this year. Moreover, he’s simply really smart. His writing and the questions he asks clearly indicate that there’s more going on in his head than in the heads of his peers, even his very intelligent peers. This list, like the previous list, also goes on and on, but you get the point.

Because of the second list, I was very disappointed when I held the first meeting regarding the Taiwan Scholarship after the informational session and noticed that he was not in attendance. I asked other teachers why Henry might not have attended. Finally one teacher gave me the answer. Henry has a legal history.

I called Henry into my office in order to ask him what happened. He was very honest and mature and explained that, last year, he and his friends robbed a store while intoxicated and assaulted the store owner. The store owner was Chinese. Henry’s preliminary sentence was a year in jail and three years of probation. He was not allowed to leave the country. He could not apply for the Taiwan Scholarship.

After Henry left my office, I closed the door and did some thinking in silence. I concluded that chaining Henry to this country would not benefit any one. He would never go to college after spending a year in jail. He was more likely to get himself into more trouble if he remained here for an extra three years after serving his jail time. In the end, he would be another young male hoodlum in his neighborhood, and tremendous amount of wasted potential to boot. I was his counselor. I was his student body government advisor. It was my responsibility not to let this happen to him. I decided to take action.

The national public defender is the uncle of a friend of mine. I asked her to arrange a meeting between him and me so I could explain Henry’s predicament and ask that he ask for some sort of plea bargain that would allow Henry to go to Taiwan should he receive a scholarship and serve his sentence in some other capacity, such as community service upon returning. The public defender listened to what I had to say and agreed to try. After all, he’s the public defender.

Part of the Taiwan Scholarship application asks for a letter of recommendation from a senator (yes, it specified senator). Henry and his family do not know any senators. I contacted the senator with whose help I created the Nitijela Internship last year and asked if she could perform a favor for me. She agreed. I invited her to the school play so she could see Henry on stage. They then met in my office after the play (11 PM on a Saturday night) so the senator could speak with him before writing him a letter of recommendation.

I then asked a friend of mine if he could speak to his father for me on Henry’s behalf. My friend’s father is a judge. He said he would. His father’s recommendation was that I speak to the store owner whom Henry assaulted and arrange a meeting between him and Henry so that Henry can demonstrate remorse by apologizing. It sounded sensible.

If you know me well enough to read this blog, you probably know that I am a very win-oriented person. Some would say I’m competitive, though I prefer win-oriented because I believe that one can win without beating someone else. Nevertheless, I was determined to win with respect to Henry. I had worked too hard and pulled too many strings for Henry not to go to Taiwan. This was something I was not going to lose. I hate losing. I hate failing. I don’t like the taste of it.

I marched into the store with this attitude, determined to leave with a victory. The odds were favorable. The public defender, senator, and judge had all been helpful. More importantly, I had a natural advantage entering this next task. I’m Chinese. I could speak Chinese with the store owner. If you’ve ever seen the difference between how a Chinese restaurant treats Chinese clientele and non-Chinese clientele, you know how significant this can be.

Small space. Chain link fence. A cage. I was in a cage. I was standing in a two feet by two feet area, surrounded on two sides by walls and the other two by the most intimidating chain link fence I had ever seen. The first thought that occurred to me was, “Who the hell would want to shop from such an unfriendly looking storefront?” The second thought that occurred to me was, “Is this in response to what Henry did?”

The store owner saw me, smiled, and waved me in. He said he recognized me from my pictures in the newspaper. He unlocked the locks on the chain link fence door, all three of them, and let me into the back of the store where we sat down. He offered me cigarettes and a drink from his store shelf. I refused, can’t go back to school smelling like smoke. We chit-chatted briefly, shared stories about China, where we were from, what it was like to leave. He asked me about living in America. I asked him about living in the Marshall Islands. I asked him if it was this store that was robbed by high school students last year. It was. I asked him if it was he that was assaulted by high school students last year. It was. I asked him about Henry. He looked me in the eyes and spoke plainly.

Rock. Broken bottles. Knife. On December 10^th, 2005, Henry opened the store door with a large rock in his hand. He hurdled over the store counter – the chain link fence was not there yet – and smashed the rock against the store owner’s head. The store owner was watching TV. While the store owner was on the ground, Henry called in his friends. Henry then picked up four bottles of vodka. He broke each of the bottles over the store owner’s head, one at a time. Next, Henry grasped a knife and slashed at the store owner. The store owner put his arms up to defend himself and caught the knife on his left arm. Henry removed his knife from the store owner’s arm and stabbed him in the chest. Twice. He and his friends took some vodka and left.

The store owner showed me the scar on his arm. His arm is yellow. It looks like mine. His scar is large and crooked. It looks like the scare on my arm. My scar was caused by a surgeon with a scalpel. His scar was caused by my student with a knife. He showed me the scars on his chest. His chest is yellow. It looks like my chest. It looks like my dad’s chest.

I asked what now seemed like a less than inconsequential question. Would he let Henry come in and apologize to him? The store owner looked at me. He didn’t want to see Henry.

We talked more about his family. He has a daughter. He left China for the Marshall Islands so his daughter could be educated in English and maybe go to school in America. My mom left China so her son could be educated in English and go to school in America. His daughter graduated and is attending college in Hawaii. He speaks of her with pride. He speaks of her straight A’s with pride. My mom speaks of me with pride. She spoke of my straight A’s with pride.

I thanked the store owner for his time and apologized for having to leave early. I was late for class. He thanked me for stopping by and encouraged me to stop by again. I told him if I could ever be of any assistance to please stop by the high school and ask for me.

I sleepwalked through my next class. I ate. I sat in my yard. I didn’t sleep much. He’s so talented. He’s so dangerous. He’s so smart. He’s so calculated. He leads the school. He leads vicious attacks. He beat the shit out of a Chinese person. I’m a Chinese person. My mom’s a Chinese person. My dad’s a Chinese person. I was trying to get him off the hook for maliciously attacking a Chinese person. I was trying to get him off the hook for maliciously attacking a Chinese person so he can go to Taiwan.

What must the store owner’s daughter think of me? Her dad sacrificed so much just so she could go to college in Hawaii. While in college her dad was battered and slashed. And now an uppity counselor is calling in favors and pulling strings to get the assailant off the hook so he can do what she’s doing right now. What must she think of me? How would I feel if I were her? What if this happened to my mom? How would I feel?

What must the store owner think of me? He came to a foreign country where he doesn’t speak the language and where people don’t particularly like him just so his daughter could be educated. My mom sacrificed her energy, her time, and her comfort so I could do the same. This man sacrificed the same, and threw in his left arm and his chest. This man did not have opportunities. Does his assailant deserve the opportunities he never had?

I’ve been so preoccupied with whether or not I could get Henry to Taiwan, I never stopped to think if I should.

Six articles. I wrote six articles about racism against Chinese. Three classes. I taught three classes about racism against Chinese. Even as recently as the school play last week, a man screamed, “Chinese! Get the fuck out of here!” while I was on stage. And here I am, trying to coerce a pardon for one such individual who did something much worse than anything that had ever inspired me to write and teach about tolerance.

Henry’s life is effectively over if I decide not to support him. He does not have the resources to do anything else. He does not have the legal permission to go anywhere else. After jail he will not have the motivation to try anything else. I can help him get out. I can help him escape his environment and put his past behind him. I can help him become educated. I can help him take advantage of his potential and his talent and use it to do great things.

I can also help him squirm out of legal retribution. I can help him avoid justice. I can passively consent to Henry’s actions and mitigate the consequences. I can patronize the store owner’s incident. I can belittle his daughter’s grief. I can demean my mom’s experiences here as well as my own. I can contradict everything I’ve said and stood for regarding the need for multicultural respect and esteem.

What should I do? I just don’t know.