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mrussell03's review against another edition
4.5
I read this after looking for a book on the history of Okinawa and surprise surprise this was the only one I could find that wasn’t just about the battle of Okinawa. The straightforward awareness and language the author uses to describe her life, her parents lives and the lives of people on Okinawa was deeply touching. I loved the moving around in time to tell multiple interwoven stories.
betag1013's review
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
5.0
Content Warnings
Graphic: Alcoholism, Body shaming, Bullying, Cancer, Chronic illness, Cursing, Death, Domestic abuse, Eating disorder, Emotional abuse, Fatphobia, Genocide, Gun violence, Hate crime, Infidelity, Mental illness, Misogyny, Physical abuse, Racial slurs, Racism, Rape, Self harm, Sexism, Sexual assault, Sexual content, Sexual violence, Torture, Toxic relationship, Violence, Xenophobia, Vomit, Grief, Medical trauma, Murder, Cultural appropriation, Toxic friendship, Alcohol, Sexual harassment, Colonisation, Dysphoria, War, and Classism
3iii8v's review
5.0
"My mother and I speak different languages. Her native language is Japanese. My native language is English. This might seem like a mundane fact about us. It’s not. It dictates everything."
This touching memoir written by Elizabeth Miki Brina is about growing up as an Asian-American in the United States, her sometimes complicated relationship with her parents -especially her mom, and her experience of being ashamed and embarassed of her mother's culture. After having a tumultuous relationship with her mother growing up, she wants to cure her mother and to heal their relationship. As she navigates through this difficult time feeling pain and grief, she tells the history of the island where her mother grew up: Okinawa, while reflecting on memories of her childhood.
"And there is more to a language barrier than mere lack of shared vocabulary. There is a clash of history and culture. There is an imbalance of power."
Speak, Okinawa turned out to be a beautiful, well-written and thought-provoking memoir. This wasn’t a memoir that had me bawling my eyes out from beginning to end, but it hit me in waves, forcing me to put the book down and return to it. It’s emotional, and it transfixed me—sending me into reflections of past relationships with members of my own family—reminding me of how we should never take family for granted. No one is guaranteed any specific amount of time here, and we have to live each day like it’s our last together.
"I wish I had crawled into bed with her, told her not to worry, told her that I am her daughter, I am home. I wish I had been on her side, as she was always on mine.
But I was a little girl then, and more than a little scared and selfish, and I didn’t want to be near her."
For years, Elizabeth was ashamed of her Japanese mother. She thought she was an outsider in a town where 99% of the population is white, in a time where people of color were treated like outcasts. Elizabeth wanted to be part of the society and not be singled out. She wanted to fit in. So she refused to acknowlege her mother's work, barely spoke to her because of the language barrier and ignored her most of the time.
"Her fear embarrasses me. Her fear is always embarrassing me. At the grocery store, at the mall, she asks me to read signs and where to find things. When cashiers and clerks ask her to repeat herself, sometimes I have to interrupt and speak for her. I’m afraid to let her speak. I’m afraid of how her accent and pronunciation reflect on me.
Or maybe it is my fear that embarrasses her.
Her friends call her "Miss Piggy" because of her pug nose and sometimes "Tinker Bell" for her slanted eyes. Slowly, she starts dying her hair all sorts of colors in hopes of fitting in, bidding her last farewell to her real identity. I know that millions of women out there struggle with the pressure and guilt they grew up with because of their background. It often takes years to realize that you are okay the way you are. We need to recognize the dignity of others and let go of this pain and shame we carry around our identity. Your culture is not a deficiency, your difference is not an inadequacy. The color of your skin is not something to be ashamed of.
I guess I look strange, unfamiliar. I guess the way I look makes them uncomfortable. We are still extras, one-dimensional villains and sidekicks.
Brina managed to really capture the complexities of the mother-daughter relationship, especially that of an Asian-American daughter and a Japanese immigrant mother.
It took too long for me to admire my mother’s common sense and practical knowledge. Her ingenious reuse of excess food packaging. Her ability to transform a can of tuna fish and a carrot into a deftly flavored stir-fry dish. It took me too long to accept and appreciate my mother’s English. Eventually I realized that the world is certainly big enough for her English, for all Englishes, for all the languages and dialects, each one another history, another journey, another map by which we discover ourselves. Eventually I realized that it is my responsibility to understand her, not her responsibility to make herself understood.
But it took too long.
This was so moving, and I think I will recommend to literally anyone and everyone. This story can help us feel more appreciative of our family and culture, or at least what we have learned from them. STUNNING.
When two people with different histories, different cultures, interact with one another, they may very well get along. They may become friends. They may fall in love. They may marry and become family. But often, more often than perhaps we’re willing to observe and decipher, our ingrained histories and cultures will confront each other, potentially misinterpret and upset each other. No matter how unintentional, an offensive thought, a tactless remark, a moment of condescension inevitably slips out.
*I'm sorry for the ammount of quotes I added but the book was simply amazing to the point where I highlighted most of its cites, these are just a few.
This touching memoir written by Elizabeth Miki Brina is about growing up as an Asian-American in the United States, her sometimes complicated relationship with her parents -especially her mom, and her experience of being ashamed and embarassed of her mother's culture. After having a tumultuous relationship with her mother growing up, she wants to cure her mother and to heal their relationship. As she navigates through this difficult time feeling pain and grief, she tells the history of the island where her mother grew up: Okinawa, while reflecting on memories of her childhood.
"And there is more to a language barrier than mere lack of shared vocabulary. There is a clash of history and culture. There is an imbalance of power."
Speak, Okinawa turned out to be a beautiful, well-written and thought-provoking memoir. This wasn’t a memoir that had me bawling my eyes out from beginning to end, but it hit me in waves, forcing me to put the book down and return to it. It’s emotional, and it transfixed me—sending me into reflections of past relationships with members of my own family—reminding me of how we should never take family for granted. No one is guaranteed any specific amount of time here, and we have to live each day like it’s our last together.
"I wish I had crawled into bed with her, told her not to worry, told her that I am her daughter, I am home. I wish I had been on her side, as she was always on mine.
But I was a little girl then, and more than a little scared and selfish, and I didn’t want to be near her."
For years, Elizabeth was ashamed of her Japanese mother. She thought she was an outsider in a town where 99% of the population is white, in a time where people of color were treated like outcasts. Elizabeth wanted to be part of the society and not be singled out. She wanted to fit in. So she refused to acknowlege her mother's work, barely spoke to her because of the language barrier and ignored her most of the time.
"Her fear embarrasses me. Her fear is always embarrassing me. At the grocery store, at the mall, she asks me to read signs and where to find things. When cashiers and clerks ask her to repeat herself, sometimes I have to interrupt and speak for her. I’m afraid to let her speak. I’m afraid of how her accent and pronunciation reflect on me.
Or maybe it is my fear that embarrasses her.
Her friends call her "Miss Piggy" because of her pug nose and sometimes "Tinker Bell" for her slanted eyes. Slowly, she starts dying her hair all sorts of colors in hopes of fitting in, bidding her last farewell to her real identity. I know that millions of women out there struggle with the pressure and guilt they grew up with because of their background. It often takes years to realize that you are okay the way you are. We need to recognize the dignity of others and let go of this pain and shame we carry around our identity. Your culture is not a deficiency, your difference is not an inadequacy. The color of your skin is not something to be ashamed of.
I guess I look strange, unfamiliar. I guess the way I look makes them uncomfortable. We are still extras, one-dimensional villains and sidekicks.
Brina managed to really capture the complexities of the mother-daughter relationship, especially that of an Asian-American daughter and a Japanese immigrant mother.
It took too long for me to admire my mother’s common sense and practical knowledge. Her ingenious reuse of excess food packaging. Her ability to transform a can of tuna fish and a carrot into a deftly flavored stir-fry dish. It took me too long to accept and appreciate my mother’s English. Eventually I realized that the world is certainly big enough for her English, for all Englishes, for all the languages and dialects, each one another history, another journey, another map by which we discover ourselves. Eventually I realized that it is my responsibility to understand her, not her responsibility to make herself understood.
But it took too long.
This was so moving, and I think I will recommend to literally anyone and everyone. This story can help us feel more appreciative of our family and culture, or at least what we have learned from them. STUNNING.
When two people with different histories, different cultures, interact with one another, they may very well get along. They may become friends. They may fall in love. They may marry and become family. But often, more often than perhaps we’re willing to observe and decipher, our ingrained histories and cultures will confront each other, potentially misinterpret and upset each other. No matter how unintentional, an offensive thought, a tactless remark, a moment of condescension inevitably slips out.
*I'm sorry for the ammount of quotes I added but the book was simply amazing to the point where I highlighted most of its cites, these are just a few.