So. David Carradine just died.
I've always had a very conflicted relationship with Carradine. When I was younger, we watched Kung Fu (reruns--I'm not that old) all the time. We used to quote it to each other, call each other Grasshopper. We also watched Quincy (because of Sam) and Star Trek (because we were dorks, but also because of Sulu), but
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To this day, when I see an East Asian actor on TV, I check the last name of both the character and the actor, to see if they're Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, etc. And if they're Chinese, I have this small moment of personal satisfaction. It's kind of like the "spot the Jew" game. Which I also play. And I learned both games from my family--just different sides of my family.
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Race is such a weird subject, intrinsically, isn't it? The other day, someone brought up a mental exercise they'd had to do in grad school, of deciding whether, if you had to change one thing about yourself, you'd choose being less smart, less educated, less attractive or a different race. "Oh my god, there was a point in my life when I would have killed to be Chinese!" I piped up, without thinking. "It would have made my life so much easier ( ... )
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But this particular post is about Kung Fu. And I do think there is something extra-special offensive and weird about a show centered around a racial minority, where the main character is played by a white guy pretending to be that minority. And the fact that pretty much every Chinese-American I know of a certain age bracket is proud of that character.
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