Aiga

Back in July, I visited the nieces and neffy in Michigan to help them move into their new house.  We took the kids out to see Finding Dory. (Who knew at the time that the new President would later screen it at the White House?)

Nothing beats Finding Nemo, but Finding Dory was cute. There's a new cast of characters, including a hilarious escaping octopus. I like the fact that Dory's parents and friends support her in living her reality with short-term memory loss.

In another ocean-related adventure, over Thanksgiving I took the same nieces and nephew* to see Moana. We were excited to see it because yes, a Disney "princess" movie finally highlighted a South Pacific culture, but also because their cousins in New Zealand (where the film didn't open until Boxing Day) are part Islander.

Representation matters. And I loved Moana.  I loved it despite the very legitimate controversies about Disney telling peoples' stories, an annoying crab character, a Maui demi-god that was basically a reworked Hercules (see: colonialism and previously mentioned issues with Disney storytelling), and a vague blending of all South Pacific cultures into one (Tokelauan, Tongan, Samoan, Maori) that a Western audience wouldn't truly understand. And though I love Lin-Manuel Miranda, I'm not entirely sure his lyrics and singing style were the perfect fit for Moana.

But I loved it for my half-Samoan Kiwi nieces with part-Maori cousins. Brave was great: they are part Scottish too and come from many traditions of strong women. But Merida didn't look like them; Moana does. Frozen was great: they dressed up and did their hair like Anna and Elsa and dreamed of snow and ice. But Arendelle's Scandinavian balls bear little resemblance to the Island dances and hakas they are learning and performing in their mixed suburban community.

I am, however, preparing myself for endless Skype sessions filled with "How Far I'll Go" renditions.




* the Latino/Filipino/German/Scottish ones

If your colors were like my dreams

A friend of a friend was in "Year Zero" at a local theatre, so I went to see it. The play focuses on young Cambodian Americans growing up in Southern California and the legacy of the Killing Fields in their lives.

It's definitely a drama, but it's interspersed with many moments of comedy - which, I think, made it more real. Aside from the incredibly heavy topic of the Killing Fields, the play also addressed school bullying, gang members, prison terms, reincarnation, and the death of a parent. And amid all that, it managed to capture the funny and tender moments of sibling relationships, teenage angst, and old flames rekindled.

One of the central themes that struck me was the idea of running away in order to survive. Each character runs away from something (bullies, repressed memories, a gang war) - even going back to their parents who fled a genocidal regime. But they're also running toward a slightly more stable, if uncertain future: college, a new home, the promise of financial stability, or simply being alive.

It reminded me of high school, where second-generation peers from immigrant families faced a lot of the same push-and-pull waves of culture, memory, and dreams.

At one point in the play, two characters debate reincarnation and how they would like to be reborn: with absolutely no memories of their previous lives, or knowing and remembering everything from the past. In the end, their "Year Zero" is reset mid-stream - and the only choice they get is to decide whether or not to run towards rebirth.

It's a sobering thought, to think that survival can be so similar to reincarnation.