Since it's kind of two months after the fact now, I figure it's totally OK to write about MaryAnn's 30th birthday extravaganza bonanza Costanza.



Now the original idea MaryAnn had to celebrate her big THREE OH was to gather together with friends at a Brazillian bar and/or restaurant and enjoy each other's company while getting wasted on mojitos. But this is Okinawa, man. The only Brazillians around here are the strippers at Chi-Chi's, and the only parties they're concerned with are the ones where people shove 100 yen coins into their t-backs (that's how it works, right?). Instead she managed to get in touch with the people at Cafe Mafali in Naha, and they were kind enough to arrange a specially prepared pseudo-Brazillian meal of wonderment and delight. And there was booze, glorious booze! That I didn't get to drinnk since I had to work the next day.

I know you're wondering why there'd be pinatas at a Brazillian themed party. Don't ask. Cultural sensitivity was left at the door that night.



This is the face of a Genki Gaijin Girl.



Autumn totally missed the pinata. But she did almost bludgeon a girl to death. Unfortunately girls, unlike pinatas, are not filled with (undigested) chocolates and candy.



I've always wondered if foreigners who come to Japan and throw up peace signs in every picture go back to their home countries and return to their warmongering, semi-automatic pistol totting ways.



Mitzi (Grits and Sushi) brought beans. The next day I bought more air freshener.



Many thanks to everyone for coming out, enjoying the food, gettin drunk, and beatin the hell out a pinata. Twas a fine way to celebrate MaryAnn's last b-day on Okinawa.

I strongly believe that education is a right, not a privilege, and that it should be free. Which is why I've recently started teaching beginner English lessons once a week after work to a handful of my co-workers.

There's Gyoza and Yama imo. Gyoza's English has actually gotten pretty good since my days of being her teacher at Naha Nikkei. Now she's paying it forward by helping relative newbies like Yama out.



Gamer is the only girl I know who's turn ons include playing Resident Evil with the lights turned off while eating popcorn and guzzling soda. So basically she's the most awesome girl ever.

Why is it that 99% of the people who study English in Japan are women?

The first time a kid in Japan stared at me, I thought it was understandable. You spend the first few years of your life surrounded by people who look just like you, and then your world is rocked when you come to the shocking realization that there are far different people from you out and about speaking a crazy language and eatin' up all the buta bara. To them, it really must be like seeing a unicorn. However, when adults stare at you...and point...and then obviously talk shit about you...that is not so understandable.

Imagine you're out at a restaurant eating lunch with your lady friend, minding your own business and hoping you don't choke on some popcorn shrimp. Maybe your lady friend has some cleavage showing. But hey, whatever man! Cleavage never killed nobody. You can see way worse just by going to the konbini and opening one of those big ass manga books (if you ever wanted to see a tentacle enter all sorts of orifices...). Looking around the room, you notice a couple a few feet from you hardcore staring in your direction, almost as if they're looking through you. Then they go back to what they're doing for a few minutes...and stare again...and eat...and stare...ad nauseum. After staring, they start talking about you, either assuming you don't understand Japanese or just not caring what you think. Even if you didn't understand Japanese, it's obvious that they're talking about you because they're pointing at you and making wild gestures. And this type of behavior continues until they leave.

Scenes like the above happen way too often. I realize that, living in the South, people probably do not see foreigners that often if at all. But...there's TV. There are movies. There's the internet. And let's not forget that American troops have kind of been stationed on this island for...oh, I don't know, almost 70 years. Everyone's entitled to their opinions, but damn. Who wants to feel like a zoo animal? Or like a psychiatrists patient having each and every thing you do analyzed to death? Actually it's worse, because psychiatrists just silently judge you while Japanese people are way more obvious about it.

I've more or less learned to ignore it, mainly because my eccentric ways have drawn weird looks and ridicule from people across the planet and I function better if I'm not worrying about what everyone else is doing. But it is highly annoying and downright upsetting to a lot of other people.

Black people, and I would think other minority groups, have a lot of issues to deal with. One of those issues revolves around representation. For a lot of people, one Black person represents the entire Black race. This is why whenever Black people watch the news or read a newspaper and hear about someone committing a crime, our first thought is, "Please don't let this dude be Black." We actually have that thought whenever seeing any negative news story, really. Because we know that, if the person is Black, then the non Black people looking at the same thing are gonna think, "There goes another Black person committing a crime. That's what they all do!". Why do you think so many people believe there are zillions of Black women on welfare (when the reality is there are more White people on welfare than anyone else), and that Black kids wearing hoodies are obviously out to rob the local liquor store (I just like to stay warm on crisp, Spring nights, ya know?).

So, what do you do when you're in a country where you're not only part of the minority, but a minority within that minority?

One of the panel members from last weeks discussion group, a Black business owner, was talking about his place over dinner and mentioned that he didn't want to open a stereotypical Black place on the island. Which got me to thinking...Why not? Which then got me to thinking about something else! Like I said before, in the US one minority group member tends to represent the entire group in the eyes of the majority. I don't personally go around like, "Yeah, guys, I represent all of African America so if you have any questions, holla at your boy!" But, when living abroad, do some Black people instead put it upon themselves to represent their entire race? Especially when living in countries where Black people are few and far between...like say, Japan.

Here in Okinawa, the perception of Black people changes depending on who you talk to. An older Okinawan person may think all Black people are future child rapists because of a handful of incidents that occurred over the past 60+ years of US military occupation. Some people might think that Black people are notorious for knocking Okinawan girls up, and heading off to America with no desire to pay child support (that baby don't look like me). Younger people might watch MTV Japan all day and think that Black people are the coolest people on Earth of President Obama or some musical celebrity like Rihanna. As a Black person, should it be up to me to change these images? If the general consensus is Black people all love watermelon and fried chicken, should I eat baked quail and oranges instead just because? It makes me wonder if other minority groups in Japan feel the need to represent and possibly dispel any seemingly negative stereotypes about their race.

Nappy Routes and Tangled Tales, a discussion on race, space, and Blackness in Okinawa put on by Mitzi Uehara Carter, Okinawan rapper/spoken word artist, Awich, and the fine folks at Cafe Bar Code, came and went near the tail end of Golden Week and it was most definitely one of the major highlights of my time here in Okinawa. It was an eye opening experience for me in many ways, thanks to a great group of panelists who were able to captivate the audience (and myself) with stories upon stories related to race, the military, and the island we all call (or called, in the case of Eric Robinson) home.

A lot of ground was covered during the discussion, so I figured I'd spend the next few posts commenting on things that I either wanted to expand on at the time or didn't get a chance to answer (or things that came up after the conference at dinner).

Do you feel more Black living in Japan? That was one of the questions that Black Tokyo's Eric Robinson asked yesterday's Nappy Routes and Tangled Tales discussion panel yesterday afternoon. It was an interesting question, one that I unfortunately didn't get to answer as time was running extremely short. So I guess it's good that I've got this here blog to run my mouth on, eh?

Do I feel more Black living in Japan? The answer would be a resounding yes. But, more importantly, I feel more proud to be Black in Japan than I did in America.

As everyone should know by now, I grew up in Washington, DC. Throughout my childhood, and maybe even til this day, DC was known as Chocolate City. Why? Because the population was something like nine billion percent Black. If you ran into a white person, they either lived in one of a handful of neighbors in Northwest DC or Capital Hill, or they were visiting from cities just outside of DC in Maryland or Virginia. During my formative years in the late 80s and entirety of the 90s, gangsta rap was the hottest thing in the streets, and Black kids couldn't help but try to emulate the people they'd see on Yo MTV Raps every day. Just as punk rock kids, skaters, hippies, bohemians, whatever had their uniform, Black youth started to develop their own based on the music they'd listen to. Black guys just had to have baggy as fuck, gaudy jeans (Girbauds), Tims, Jordans, or some other Nike basketball shoe (Foamposites, for example, which are still a DC staple), some XXXXXL sized t-shirt from a pseudo high end brand (Nautica, Polo, Tommy Hilfiger, Gap), and a black hoody or North Face. Girls, on the other hand, tended to wear what were called stretch jeans (the precursor to today's skinny jeans fad?), too tight tees meant for your baby sister (usually from LXLX), and GS sizes of the shoes dudes were wearing...or Reebok Freestyles now that I think about it.



The thing is, people would associate that uniform with the entirety of the Black race. And not just White people, Hispanics, or Asians. Even Black people would associate that uniform with the entire race. Not only that, certain ways of talking (Ebonics), walking, and acting also became extremely closely linked to Black people. There's was just one problem, though: not everyone fit that image. And that was especially true of me. I lived in a neighborhood in DC full of people who'd been to jail, were in gangs, or sold drugs (or all three), but I didn't go to school with those people. I didn't spend most of my time with those people. My parents made the decision to send me to private schools as the DC school system was (and maybe is) one of the worst in the country. I first went to a small Montessori School in Maryland, and when I graduated from there I went to a slightly bigger but still small Catholic school in Georgetown. At both schools the majority of students were White. In order to fit in, I started to take an interest in soccer, rock music, guitar, and skateboarding. But my plan backfired. Instead of fitting in with my classmates, I only managed to alienate myself. How? Shouldn't you be able to easily relate to people with the same interests as you?



What happened was this. Because I was Black, most of the upper class White people I went to school with had a problem accepting me. It didn't matter that I liked the same things as them for the most part. The other thing that happened, that I was totally unprepared for, was that Black people started to have a problem accepting me because I was, in their words, either "too White" or "not Black" enough. That's when I first learned about the term "Oreo", a person who's Black on the outside and white on the inside and something I'd heard way too often in reference to me. Even some White people I knew said they thought I wasn't Black enough. I felt like I didn't really have a place at the time. I wasn't White, so White people wouldn't take me in. And my own race had disowned me for not fitting into the Black stereotype. The only time I actually, truly, felt "Black", would be when I'd walk into a store and get watched like a hawk, or when my White classmates said that I'd only gotten into NYU because of affirmative action.

I've have to deal with those types of issues in Japan. People look at me, notice my skin color, and bam! I'm lumped into the kokujin category. It doesn't matter that I don't necessarily fit their preconceived notion of what a Black person looks like, or how they act. I'm still just as Black as the hood ass dudes that start fights outside of Saicolo. When my students want to know how to do the Stanky Leg, they ask me. When I'm at karaoke and some rap part comes on, they give me the mic. Right now I'm like the foremost authority on all things Blackness. Sometimes it's annoying, but then again I feel more Black now. And I can actually be proud about being Black again.

Unless you've been living under the Rock of Gibraltar, or are just extremely slow on the uptake, then you've probably noticed that I've got a new bike.

After my original bike got stolen a couple of months ago, I took to any and every social networking site I was signed up to to spread the news about my pilfered wheels. It wasn't long before JD contacted me and let me know that she had a couple of bikes chilling at her apartment that were going unused. This is how I came into the possession of a black, orange, and grey Giant mountain bike. It was clearly older than my previous bike, and not exactly built for the streets. But after a little work I was taking it into work every day and rolling through the streets of southern Okinawa with reckless abandon.

Until two days ago that is, when old age and aggressive riding finally took its tole on my bike and I fucked up the back wheel. The only bike shop I knew of was in Naha, and I wasn't about to trot my bike from Agariham to Tomarin. Luckily for me, all it took was an email to Daisuke to find out that there was an even better bike shop hiding in the backwoods of Yonabaru: Nagayama Cycle.



Nagayama is in a small, residential neighborhood of Yonabaru behind all the snack bars that dot the 329 and near Marine Town Golf. It looks like it's run by two dudes: a really old guy and a younger yet still old-ish guy that both know their way around bikes. It didn't take long for the old-ish dude to figure out what my problem was, and after I was shocked out of my mind by the original price he quoted to me for the repair, he was awesome enough to significantly knock the price down. That is what's up, old-ish guy!



He told me it would take an hour, but it actually took closer to two. I wasn't mad or anything as it gave me time to go home, watch Avatar episodes, and walk around the store to drool over bikes and bike parts (of which there is an enormous selection). Still, because it took longer than expected the old-ish dude knocked the price down even further. And the work he did on my bike was amazing. Well, that's one way to get repeat business from me. And there will be repeat business as I plan on customizing my bike one of the days (perhaps after I hit the Japanese lottery).



Now it runs smoother and better than it has since I first got it. Big ups to you, old-ish dude at Nagayama Cycle. You're the man, and so is your bike shop.

After some much needed renovation, Hiroshi has finally reopened his bar, Route 16.



The new bar is just above where the old bar used to be, but still in the same building off of Kokusai Dori by the Lawson's near Saicolo. It's got more seating than the old spot, yet feels a lot more intimate. The fixed gear bikes that used to hang from the ceiling have sadly been removed, and so has the big screen HDTV that stayed on MTV Japan. They've been replaced by a much smaller, 13in analong TV set that was playing fixed gear bike videos the last time I was in there. It's much less of a distraction than the previous set up, and I would imagine forces customers to actually interact with the bartender and/or each other since there now isn't a giant screen to zone out watching.



Hiroshi's only 23 and already owns his own business. If you're in the area, stop by, grab a drink and help a young entrepreneur do his thing. You won't be disappointed.

I have been fortunate enough to meet many great people through this blog. One of them is Mitzi, a half black half Okinawan woman from Cali who, among other things, runs the very great Grits and Sushi blog. Black in Japan is where you go when you want to be entertained by tales of drugs, sex, and eisa. Grits and Sushi is where you go when you want to be entertained by musings on race, Okinawa, the military, family, and other things that will actually increase your brain cells instead of slowly destroying them. If you really want to get a deeper look at race relations in Okinawa, that is the place to be. And I'm totally not just saying all that because we're blogging BFFs.

This Friday (May 4th) and Sunday (May 6th) she's hosting two "open dialogue/experimental focus groups" to rethink Blackness in Okinawa. Guess who was invited to attend? I'll be among a group of former Marines, scholars, rappers, and spoken word artists discussing what it means to be young and black (and ridiculously handsome) in southern Okinawa, or what I do on a regular basis, only in person. I personally guarantee it will be a slobberknocker of awesomeness.

You can read more about event at Grits and Sushi.

Ry: Ron-san, are there any famous rappers from DC?

R: Wale.

Ry: Who?

R: Wale...

Ry: Who?!

S: Wallet?

R: No...Wale!

Ry: Is that the guy from the Black Eyed Peas?

R: I'm pretty sure that's will.i.am.

You know what they say...