Crónicas Nikkei #2 — Nikkei+ ~Historias de Lenguaje, Tradiciones, Generaciones y Raza Mixtos~

El ser nikkei es inherentemente una situación de tradiciones y culturas mezcladas. Para muchas de las comunidades y las familias nikkei alrededor del mundo no es inusual usar tanto palillos como tenedores, mezclar palabras japonesas con el español, o celebrar la cuenta regresiva de la víspera del Año Nuevo con champaña y el Oshogatsu con ozoni y otras tradiciones japonesas.

Discover Nikkei actualmente está acogiendo historias que exploran como los “nikkei” alrededor del mundo perciben y experimentan el ser multirraciales, multinacionales, multilingües, y multigeneracionales.

Cada artículo enviado a la antología Nikkei+ estuvo disponible para ser elegido como los favoritos de nuestra comunidad online.

Aquí están sus historias favoritas en cada idioma.

Para saber más sobre este proyecto de escritura >>

Mira también estas series de Crónicas Nikkei >>

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Memory Says

Nearly every year my husband remembers that we got married on October the 24, 1998. We did not. Stereotypes aside, I, as the woman, and hence the one with the better memory, know for a fact that it was October the 17th, 1998, as I did nearly everything for the wedding. This is not something to be proud of; it is my biggest indictment. And it was my biggest mistake on all cultural fronts—I will get to that.

I remember the date clearly because I used beautiful Japanese purple silk kimono material around sage, clove, nutmeg, citrus, and cinnamon ...

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A Hapa Girl In Vietnam

I’m currently carrying out a Fulbright English Teaching Fellowship in Northern Vietnam. When I sit down to meals with my students, they are always surprised at my skill with chopsticks. I try to explain to them in broken Vietnamese: cha tôi là người Mỹ gốc Phi, mẹ tôi là Mỹ gốc Nhật. My father is African-American. My mother is Japanese-American. I’ve been using chopsticks since the day I was born. This always draws a wide-eyed smile of exhilaration across my student’s faces, as if I’ve shared some great secret with them.

In some ways ...

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My Laborious, Glorious, and Ultimately Futile Self-Education

Most Nikkei have the luxury of being brought up with the tradition of our fatherland. To be taught the meaning of Obon by your parents, a Buddhist priest, or both. To be read stories as a young child of a boy sprung up from peaches, tongueless sparrows. Or, if your parents were well read, to hear the fable of a young master from Tokyo known as Botchan bring a Machiavellian red shirted devil from the boondocks down with a well placed punch. To appreciate the taste of good Japanese food without paying exorbitant prices for having it made for you ...

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しかし、店でキムチとカブの赤唐辛子漬けとニンニクを手にした時、「あっ!これはヤバイ!」と感じた。臭いが強烈だったのだ。やめようとしたら、お店の主人が、「うまく梱包するからダイジョウブ」と自身満々。丁寧に、何回も密閉した容器をお肉屋さんのようにセロファンをまきつけてくれた。しかし、家へ帰る車内、すでにすごい臭いがした。後の悲劇を予感させる物があった ...

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My Japanese Jewish Girl Fears

As a Japanese-Jewish American girl, I have suffered. 

It’s not just that both of my tribes were placed in camps because they were simply born, or perhaps hated for being smart, bold, different, and even oddly wonderful.

As a Jew, I am reminded continually that I am lucky to be alive, part of the chosen, and should I kvetch about my standing in life, may God burn me like a self-burning bush—and one that isn’t even on sale.

And as a Japanese woman, I have been taught from an early age that suffering is in fact a ...

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