Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Reinventing the (colour) wheel
Addressing a lack of diversity in the Australian theatre world, The Colour Blind Project is campaigning to reflect multicultural Australia in the performance world, and, like the US and UK make colour-blind integrated casting a common industry practice.
“Why have we have not seen an Asian lead character in a sitcom or romantic comedy? Why do we never see a male character, of middle eastern background for example, play the hero?” Are all questions asked by The Colour Blind Project co-Artistic Directors Josipa Draisma and Stephanie Son.
“Josipa and I, both performers and feeling frustrated with the lack of diversity that we would see when we went to the theatre or turned on the TV, decided to be proactive about encouraging a change in the Industry. We wanted to see the reality of multicultural Australia reflected on our stages and on our screens,” says Stephanie.
The pair created The Colour Blind Project in 2009, an arts initiative that truly showcases multicultural and Indigenous performers and challenges the stereotypes that exist in the Australian Arts and Entertainment Industry. It’s supported by organisations including Urban Theatre Projects and Playwriting Australia, as well as other artists including Candy Bowers, Robyn Loau and Paul Capsis.
“Unfortunately there is still a practice in the Industry that reaffirms the anglo-centric idea of what it means to be Australian; to push the agenda of the Australian stereotype of the blonde haired, blue eyed beach guy or girl. The reality is that Australia is much more than that,” they say.
“Occasionally there is a character on TV or on stage that is multicultural or Indigenous, but often it’s a stereotype or at best, tokenistic.”
“What we wanted to do was find talented actors from all different backgrounds who often get sent to the castings for ‘Thai prostitute’ or ‘taxi-driver’ or ‘wog girlfriend’ and give them roles that showcases their talent, rather than just the colour of their skin.”
Both Stephanie and Josipa cite the project as being extremely well received within the industry and by audiences, and they say the support is incredible inspiring.
The next production for The Colour Blind Project will be ‘Shakespeare In Full Colour’, with an integrated cast of all cultural backgrounds as part of the Sydney Fringe Festival at the New Theatre in Newtown between September 10 and 26. More: thecolourblindproject.org
Source
Jessie Mei Mei - a story about white Australians adopting an Asian kid
You can listen to an interview with the authors/parents here (warning: it's a long, drawn-out interview). Why are forty year olds allowed to adopt babies, isn't that a bit old? They also adopted another Asian kid after adopting Jessie.
The frank, honest and heartbreaking true story of parents faced with the unimaginable - a terminal diagnosis for their young adopted daughter. What follows is an extraordinary tale of sacrifice, resilience and the power of love to overcome.
Description
The Chinese call it 'the red threads of destiny'...when a child is born, invisible red threads spring from the infant's body and connect it to those who will be important in that child's life.
Jia-Mei was the child Sharon Guest and Stuart Neal had always wanted and, following a protracted adoption process, they excitedly travelled to China to collect her from a Chinese orphanage. Friends and family affectionately called her Jessie Mei Mei and welcomed her to a new life in Australia. Jessie was the perfect eighteen-month-old child - gregarious and funny and easy to love. But, from the beginning, Sharon, in that way that parents do, suspected something wasn't quite right about Jessie. She was too serious and immobile and learned quite slowly.
When they adopt Bi Bi, another Chinese baby, Jessie's behaviour worries them so much that they seek medical help only to hear what no parent is ever prepared to hear - their beautiful daughter has a degenerative condition that means she will be lucky to see her twelfth birthday.
What happens next is the all too common and shocking story of how a country as rich as ours shamefully fails to provide assistance to families in need. The bureaucratic silliness of government departments and their systemic inadequacy in supporting high needs children and adults leads to extreme actions on the part of their exhausted families.
Jessie Mei Mei will break your heart with its frank, honest and surprisingly funny account of how one family managed. But in the end it is a story about kindness and the power of love to overcome all.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Chinese urged to give politics a go
RYDE City councillor Justin Li, 28, believes more Australian Chinese should enter politics.
He said in the past, most first generation Chinese community leaders and politicians in Sydney were based in Chinatown and were mainly business people.
The Chinese community, however, had dispersed, settling in other parts of the city, including Hurstville, Chatswood, Ashfield, Burwood and Eastwood, he said.
“We are seeing more second generation Chinese Australians in politics. These are people who have grown up and have been educated here.”
He said Senator Penny Wong, the first cabinet minister of Malaysian Chinese descent was an example.
Cr Li will share his own experience of becoming involved in local government in a Chinese in Australian politics seminar at UTS on Wednesday, September 8.
The panel members will comprise both first and second generation Chinese Australians.
“The panel will discuss the importance of participating in politics and addressing the current low levels of representation of Chinese Australians, especially at state and federal levels,” Cr Li said.
“My view is that it’s important for there to be a greater diversity of people in government representing our very diverse Australian community.
“A lot of my work involves helping people solve their day-to-day problems. They may have issues, such as overgrown trees, uncollected rubbish, parking fines, problems with their development applications.
“While some of the issues may seem to be mundane matters, they are important to my residents and affect their everyday lives. Sometimes I’m contacted by people from outside the Ryde Council area, simply because there are no other Asian councillors in the North Shore area.
“I try to help them where I can,” he said.
Cr Li gave some tips for young Chinese people entering politics.
“It’s important to have patience and to spend time listening to the community. You need the attitude that no problem is too small for your attention,” he said.
“You also need the courage to speak out for the community on the things you believe in. At the same time, you need to be realistic and pragmatic, knowing that you will not always get 100 per cent of what you want for the community,” he said. “Finally I think it’s important to give things a go. If you don’t try, you’ll never know.”
Source
Grassroots creativity in focus
INTERNATIONAL and local filmmakers packed into Fairfield’s School of Arts earlier this month for local filmmaker Maria Tran’s Urban Action Film Forum.
More than 100 people listened as Ms Tran and special guests discussed a range of topics, from future directions for Australia’s action film industry to the potential of the internet to help local filmmakers produce their own creative projects.
Tran also updated the audience on her multimedia project, Quest for Jackie Chan!.
“I am happy that we had the chance to make it happen out here. Lots of young kids said this was such a great and fun project that is relevant to them,” Tran said.
Guests included Hong Kong action film director Antony Szeto, the ABC’s Craig Anderson, and Chris Pang from the upcoming film Tomorrow When the World Began.
Tran said Szeto was very impressed by the ambitious grassroots approach of Fairfield’s creative community, particularly local filmmaker Ali Kadhim.
The director even offered to mentor the 23-year old and his 9Lives crew, who create local no-budget action films of their own martial arts talent.
“He gave us some advice. He’s a very down-to-earth guy, I look forward to working with him in the future,” Kadhim said.
“There’s a lot of talent that no one really knows about, and events like this really shine a light on people out here.”
Fairfield Mayor Nick Lalich, who welcomed the event, even managed to attract the attention of visiting filmmakers who remarked that the mayor’s dapper suit made him very “castable” for their films.
“I’ve never heard that said about me before, it’s very flattering and I’m humbled to think the producers at the Urban Action Film Forum thought I had the qualities of an actor. I’m sure it was said light-heartedly,” Cr Lalich said.
The major said he hoped initiatives like Tran’s Quest for Jackie Chan! inspired other young people to achieve their goals.
“It’s important we encourage young local artists to express themselves through art,” he said.
“I’m sure twenty years ago Maria never thought that one day she would win a Logie award, I only hope she remembers us when she accepts her Oscar.”
Tran embarks on an Australia-wide tour to promote Quest for Jackie Chan! in September.
Source
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Shaun Tan to be special guest at AussieCon World Scifi Convention, Melbourne
Just a heads up if you're in Melbourne that you can catch up with Shaun Tan at AussieCon 4, which is on from the 2nd to 6th of September. More details>>>
Friday, August 27, 2010
Laughing through adversity - Anh Do talks about his life and new book "The Happiest Refugee"
(Anh Do - Australia's Happiest Refugee segment on Sunrise. Click here to view.)
He's one of our top comedians but Anh Do's early life as an impoverished refugee was no joke
IT was the gig from Hell. Harder than entertaining a gang of bikies with neck-to-toe tatts and a collective sneer; harder than telling jokes to unsmiling Jesuits who looked as if they'd rather be at a theology symposium.
It was the late 1990s and Anh Do -- a young Vietnamese refugee turned novice comedian -- was poised to go on stage at an RSL club in regional NSW. Only then did Do realise his audience comprised World War II, Vietnam and Korean war veterans. "Bloody hell!" he thought as he moved apprehensively into the spotlight. "Who organised this gig? . . . 200 guys sitting quietly remembering fallen comrades who were shot by Asian men . . . "
Do, who had fled Vietnam with his family when he was two, performed for five minutes and was met by a glacial silence. "It was survival, it was just survival," he tells Review, shaking his closely shorn head. "Just a few minutes in I'm thinking, 'There's an exit, there's an exit, I think I can outrun all of 'em.' " It didn't help that a Vietnam vet had started shooting imaginary bullets at the Vietnamese-Australian comic, with accompanying "pap! pap!" sound effects.
Today Do is one of Australia's leading comedians and an accomplished screen actor, and he has just written a memoir, the ironically titled The Happiest Refugee. Part turbulent family history, part rollicking account of an unconventional career, the memoir revisits the RSL incident -- the hardest gig he reckons he'll ever do -- with excruciating precision. The young Do ploughed on gamely in front of those ageing war vets, raiding his pantry of battler jokes about bull terriers, Datsuns, the housing commission and, of course, Kiwis.
"Slowly, slowly, I won them over," he writes. "The old guys finally realised that if they closed their eyes, this Vietnamese kid was actually just an Aussie comedian up there talking about his working-class childhood . . . After the show an old guy came up to me, slapped me on the back and said, 'Jeez, you're funny for a slope.' I could tell from his demeanour that he meant it as compliment. So I took it as one."
It was largely down to Do's generosity of spirit that this tense situation ended well, with an ex-Digger shouting him a beer. Now 33 and a father of three young boys, he says affably, "That's probably one of the greatest fringe benefits of doing comedy: being able to win over people who might have been averse to being friends with an Asian bloke before then." Do jokes that the RSL job was good for him: he is confident he will never again encounter an audience "even remotely that terrifying".
Such resilience, combined with an almost wilful optimism, seems to come easily to Do, who speaks with an Australian accent as broad as Julia Gillard's, peppering his conversation with "y'knows" and "some'ems". Indeed, his optimism and forgiving streak -- not to mention his keen sense of the ridiculous -- helped him ride out a childhood shadowed by tragedy in Vietnam, and disfigured by poverty and his father's drinking and violence. "All those tough times make you tougher," he says evenly. "Now if am without [something] I know I'll be sweet."
Review interviews Do at his home in Sydney's northwest, a middle-class suburb of modest weatherboard and brick bungalows, neat lawns and sudden eruptions of bush. From time to time he flashes his 1000W smile and cracks jokes -- some obviously rehearsed, some improvised -- but his demeanour is mostly serious, even grave. "I'm an introvert by nature," he says, then adds pointedly: "I love performing when I'm on stage, but people have often said to me, 'Jeez, you're not as funny as when you're on TV', and I say, 'Well that's because I'm just buying meat off you.' "
Do's tragicomic memoir has resonated so strongly with booksellers it was reprinted by publisher Allen & Unwin even before its official release this week. It's a high-octane trapeze act that swoops from stories of a dramatic escape from a communist re-education camp and the near-fatal boat journey Do and his family undertook from Vietnam in 1980, to Do's engagement party many years later on Sydney's ritzy north shore: his relatives turned up to an old-money address brandishing a huge glazed pig.
Do's book also documents how the promise of a new life in Australia curdled after his father, Tam, abandoned his wife, Hien -- who couldn't read or speak English -- and three children. Do was 13 at the time. He recalls how his brother, Khoa, was 11 when he negotiated to sell his mother's jewellery at Cash Converters so they could get the electricity reconnected.
"That makes an 11-year-old kid grow up pretty quick," says Do sombrely, as he sits at the family dining table where he writes most of his jokes.
Dressed in a pressed white shirt and jeans, Do cuts a blokier, more imposingly masculine figure than his self-mocking screen persona, tackling beefy front row forwards in a bubble-wrap suit for The Matty Johns Show, or spraying deodorant up his nostrils on the sketch program Thank God You're Here. On the day of this interview he has flown back from a stand-up gig for book chain Dymocks in Hobart. He's doing another corporate event in a few hours; it's clearly a busy day.
But mostly his work life is arranged so he can be around for his boys, aged six, four and one. Halfway through our interview, the children arrive home with Do's wife, Suzi, from the afternoon school pick-up, a blur of uniforms, backpacks, strollers and pint-sized friends. "Most days I can take my boys to school and pick 'em up, it's a wonderful option," says Do, with evident satisfaction. "I've structured it that way . . . my father wasn't around from when I was 13 and because of that mum had three jobs, [so] she wasn't around either. So I made a decision early on that I was going to spend a lot of time with the kids."
His settled family life with Suzi, a former lawyer and now a full-time mum, could hardly seem more different from the traumatised adolescence and impoverished teen years he describes in The Happiest Refugee. Do reveals that through his teenage years he fantasised about two things: meeting his father -- "a joyful reunion full of happy tears" -- and killing him.
He writes with lacerating honesty about the older man's drink problem: "About half a dozen times when I was a young teenager, my father hit me in a drunken stupor, without measure, without controlled words of admonishment to soothe the wounds, but wildly and with intent to cause pain . . . On the last occasion, I flung myself in his direction and pushed him into the wall, smacking my fist into the side of his head. I cried and screamed at the same time."
The comedian also reveals that, barely out of primary school, he slept with a knife under his bed, determined to defend his mother should his father arrive home drunk and spoiling for a fight.
There was a confrontation, but Do didn't have to resort to weapons. The older man wept bitterly and vanished into the night. Do didn't see him again for nine years.
He now believes his father's life was corroded by guilt provoked by several catastrophes: the murder of an uncle in Vietnam; a teenager on the family's refugee boat jumping overboard and drowning; the loss of his parents' and other relatives' savings when an Australian duck farm went bust.
Asked if the scenes depicting his father's violence were hard to write, Do fixes his large brown-black eyes on the middle distance and says: "Writing about seeing my father for the last time and having a knife ready to defend my mother -- I wrote that with, you know, tears dripping on to the computer keyboard. But I wrote that whole scene within five minutes . . . It was a very easy book to write, but at the same time an emotionally gruelling experience."
He has since reconciled with his dad, who has survived a brain tumour and is the comic's unofficial roadie when he works in Melbourne. Do's siblings do not enjoy the same relaxed relationship with their father, but he insists "it made it easier for me to forgive my dad after learning more about him . . . It's very hard for us to imagine what it would be like to go through a war."
All this may make Do's book sound as if it was conceived at the wailing wall of misery memoirs; in fact, The Happiest Refugee is animated by a humour so vivid it might have been filmed in 3-D. Do invests his upbringing in Sydney with a kind of wry exoticism, from the endless stream of uncles who were named according to birth order (Uncle Six, Uncle Nine), to living with his cousins, illegally, in a clothing factory, to the grandmother who "used to come in after a hard day's work in the garden, crack open a can of VB, put her feet up and sing karaoke".
Yet the poverty was real and painful enough. Do and his siblings learned how to hide from unpaid landlords, and his mother often couldn't afford the sports uniforms and textbooks required by the Catholic school St Aloysius, to which her sons had won partial scholarships. Do copped detention for "forgetting" his nonexistent textbooks rather than admit he couldn't afford them.
Yet he rarely engages in self-pity, often wringing humour from the everyday humiliations of never having enough. In high school, while his basketball teammates wore designer sports shoes -- Reebok Pumps or Air Jordans -- he turned up in Kind Lions, bought for $15 at an Asian grocery store. To get traction on the court surface, he rubbed the soles in soft drink.
Despite his turbulent teenage years, Do did well at high school and studied law at the University of Technology, Sydney. When he graduated, business firm Andersen Consulting offered him a sought-after job. He says: "They were telling me, maybe a 60-hour work week. I asked a comedian, 'How many hours do you work?' He said four. I think I chose comedy out of laziness more than anything."
Do says he stumbled into comedy by accident. While a law student, egged on by friends, he braved the stage during amateur comedy nights at Sydney's Harold Park Hotel. He was 22 when he won the hotel's comedian of the year award, and this served as a launch pad to a professional career. Since then he has appeared on The Footy Show, Rove, Good News Week, Thank God You're Here and The Panel, and last year hosted the sports quiz program The Squiz on SBS.
He has performed at the Adelaide Fringe Festival, Melbourne's International Comedy Festival and the Sydney Comedy Festival, and has twice staged solo shows at the Sydney Opera House. In 2008 he filmed a Beijing Olympics special for the Ten Network, a brief that included drinking (and vomiting up) juice from a snake's gall bladder. In 2007 he appeared on Dancing with the Stars. The judges weren't always onside but the viewers were: their votes catapulted him and his outsize grin into the grand final (which he lost to the glamorous actress Bridie Carter). In his book, he recalls how this experience "melted away all those moments in my life, and there have been very few to be honest, where I'd copped racism and been made to feel like an outsider".
As well as making a living making people laugh, Do is an actor and filmmaker. In 2003, he and his brother Khoa released the gritty feature film The Finished People. Produced by Anh and directed by Khoa, it starred street kids from Sydney's Cabramatta who played characters based on their own experiences. Despite a budget ($5000) that barely qualified as shoestring, it was nominated for three AFI awards and won an Inside Film prize. It also led to Khoa being named 2005's Young Australian of the Year.
The brothers again collaborated on the feelgood film Footy Legends (2006), about a team of likable Sydney no-hopers who pin their hopes on a rugby league competition, which featured Claudia Karvan as a social worker and Do as the lead character, Luc, a big-hearted young man who is trying to find work while raising his sister. He quips: "I described him in detail [in the script] to look like me so the production company couldn't sneak in another Asian actor."
The Do family's journey from Vietnam is at once a cautionary tale and the story of a desperate generation whose children eventually make good in their adopted country. Do says his family fled the communist country after being persecuted for having fought "alongside Aussie soldiers in the Vietnam War. One of my uncles was a sapper who cleared landmines for Anzacs."
He sees the heated asylum-seeker debate through the prism of this experience: today, he says, if an Afghan performed a similar job, "I reckon a lot of Australians would say, 'Let's look after him.' But the way we're viewing it, we're not even giving these people a chance to tell their stories. We're sort of judging them as illegal criminals."
The Do clan left Vietnam in a boat they bought. They were twice robbed and terrorised by pirates and ran out of food and water before they were rescued and taken to a Malaysian refugee camp. From there they came to Australia as refugees. Do says his family often laughs about the boat trip that almost killed them (and did kill a young family friend). This jet-black humour initially shocked Suzi but, as Do explains, "it doesn't mean that we weren't frightened or that it wasn't life-threatening, but that's how we deal with it". He then leans across the table and makes a startling confession: "Before, I was quite scared of my story, even ashamed of it." Because his dad left? "All of it," he says emphatically. "As a bloke you just don't want people to know anything that might make you seem vulnerable or weak. You put on a facade that everything's sweet, you know." He pauses to reflect. "I've learned now that telling that story is OK."
Source
I just found the Official Anh Do Page!
He's one of our top comedians but Anh Do's early life as an impoverished refugee was no joke
IT was the gig from Hell. Harder than entertaining a gang of bikies with neck-to-toe tatts and a collective sneer; harder than telling jokes to unsmiling Jesuits who looked as if they'd rather be at a theology symposium.
It was the late 1990s and Anh Do -- a young Vietnamese refugee turned novice comedian -- was poised to go on stage at an RSL club in regional NSW. Only then did Do realise his audience comprised World War II, Vietnam and Korean war veterans. "Bloody hell!" he thought as he moved apprehensively into the spotlight. "Who organised this gig? . . . 200 guys sitting quietly remembering fallen comrades who were shot by Asian men . . . "
Do, who had fled Vietnam with his family when he was two, performed for five minutes and was met by a glacial silence. "It was survival, it was just survival," he tells Review, shaking his closely shorn head. "Just a few minutes in I'm thinking, 'There's an exit, there's an exit, I think I can outrun all of 'em.' " It didn't help that a Vietnam vet had started shooting imaginary bullets at the Vietnamese-Australian comic, with accompanying "pap! pap!" sound effects.
Today Do is one of Australia's leading comedians and an accomplished screen actor, and he has just written a memoir, the ironically titled The Happiest Refugee. Part turbulent family history, part rollicking account of an unconventional career, the memoir revisits the RSL incident -- the hardest gig he reckons he'll ever do -- with excruciating precision. The young Do ploughed on gamely in front of those ageing war vets, raiding his pantry of battler jokes about bull terriers, Datsuns, the housing commission and, of course, Kiwis.
"Slowly, slowly, I won them over," he writes. "The old guys finally realised that if they closed their eyes, this Vietnamese kid was actually just an Aussie comedian up there talking about his working-class childhood . . . After the show an old guy came up to me, slapped me on the back and said, 'Jeez, you're funny for a slope.' I could tell from his demeanour that he meant it as compliment. So I took it as one."
It was largely down to Do's generosity of spirit that this tense situation ended well, with an ex-Digger shouting him a beer. Now 33 and a father of three young boys, he says affably, "That's probably one of the greatest fringe benefits of doing comedy: being able to win over people who might have been averse to being friends with an Asian bloke before then." Do jokes that the RSL job was good for him: he is confident he will never again encounter an audience "even remotely that terrifying".
Such resilience, combined with an almost wilful optimism, seems to come easily to Do, who speaks with an Australian accent as broad as Julia Gillard's, peppering his conversation with "y'knows" and "some'ems". Indeed, his optimism and forgiving streak -- not to mention his keen sense of the ridiculous -- helped him ride out a childhood shadowed by tragedy in Vietnam, and disfigured by poverty and his father's drinking and violence. "All those tough times make you tougher," he says evenly. "Now if am without [something] I know I'll be sweet."
Review interviews Do at his home in Sydney's northwest, a middle-class suburb of modest weatherboard and brick bungalows, neat lawns and sudden eruptions of bush. From time to time he flashes his 1000W smile and cracks jokes -- some obviously rehearsed, some improvised -- but his demeanour is mostly serious, even grave. "I'm an introvert by nature," he says, then adds pointedly: "I love performing when I'm on stage, but people have often said to me, 'Jeez, you're not as funny as when you're on TV', and I say, 'Well that's because I'm just buying meat off you.' "
Do's tragicomic memoir has resonated so strongly with booksellers it was reprinted by publisher Allen & Unwin even before its official release this week. It's a high-octane trapeze act that swoops from stories of a dramatic escape from a communist re-education camp and the near-fatal boat journey Do and his family undertook from Vietnam in 1980, to Do's engagement party many years later on Sydney's ritzy north shore: his relatives turned up to an old-money address brandishing a huge glazed pig.
Do's book also documents how the promise of a new life in Australia curdled after his father, Tam, abandoned his wife, Hien -- who couldn't read or speak English -- and three children. Do was 13 at the time. He recalls how his brother, Khoa, was 11 when he negotiated to sell his mother's jewellery at Cash Converters so they could get the electricity reconnected.
"That makes an 11-year-old kid grow up pretty quick," says Do sombrely, as he sits at the family dining table where he writes most of his jokes.
Dressed in a pressed white shirt and jeans, Do cuts a blokier, more imposingly masculine figure than his self-mocking screen persona, tackling beefy front row forwards in a bubble-wrap suit for The Matty Johns Show, or spraying deodorant up his nostrils on the sketch program Thank God You're Here. On the day of this interview he has flown back from a stand-up gig for book chain Dymocks in Hobart. He's doing another corporate event in a few hours; it's clearly a busy day.
But mostly his work life is arranged so he can be around for his boys, aged six, four and one. Halfway through our interview, the children arrive home with Do's wife, Suzi, from the afternoon school pick-up, a blur of uniforms, backpacks, strollers and pint-sized friends. "Most days I can take my boys to school and pick 'em up, it's a wonderful option," says Do, with evident satisfaction. "I've structured it that way . . . my father wasn't around from when I was 13 and because of that mum had three jobs, [so] she wasn't around either. So I made a decision early on that I was going to spend a lot of time with the kids."
His settled family life with Suzi, a former lawyer and now a full-time mum, could hardly seem more different from the traumatised adolescence and impoverished teen years he describes in The Happiest Refugee. Do reveals that through his teenage years he fantasised about two things: meeting his father -- "a joyful reunion full of happy tears" -- and killing him.
He writes with lacerating honesty about the older man's drink problem: "About half a dozen times when I was a young teenager, my father hit me in a drunken stupor, without measure, without controlled words of admonishment to soothe the wounds, but wildly and with intent to cause pain . . . On the last occasion, I flung myself in his direction and pushed him into the wall, smacking my fist into the side of his head. I cried and screamed at the same time."
The comedian also reveals that, barely out of primary school, he slept with a knife under his bed, determined to defend his mother should his father arrive home drunk and spoiling for a fight.
There was a confrontation, but Do didn't have to resort to weapons. The older man wept bitterly and vanished into the night. Do didn't see him again for nine years.
He now believes his father's life was corroded by guilt provoked by several catastrophes: the murder of an uncle in Vietnam; a teenager on the family's refugee boat jumping overboard and drowning; the loss of his parents' and other relatives' savings when an Australian duck farm went bust.
Asked if the scenes depicting his father's violence were hard to write, Do fixes his large brown-black eyes on the middle distance and says: "Writing about seeing my father for the last time and having a knife ready to defend my mother -- I wrote that with, you know, tears dripping on to the computer keyboard. But I wrote that whole scene within five minutes . . . It was a very easy book to write, but at the same time an emotionally gruelling experience."
He has since reconciled with his dad, who has survived a brain tumour and is the comic's unofficial roadie when he works in Melbourne. Do's siblings do not enjoy the same relaxed relationship with their father, but he insists "it made it easier for me to forgive my dad after learning more about him . . . It's very hard for us to imagine what it would be like to go through a war."
All this may make Do's book sound as if it was conceived at the wailing wall of misery memoirs; in fact, The Happiest Refugee is animated by a humour so vivid it might have been filmed in 3-D. Do invests his upbringing in Sydney with a kind of wry exoticism, from the endless stream of uncles who were named according to birth order (Uncle Six, Uncle Nine), to living with his cousins, illegally, in a clothing factory, to the grandmother who "used to come in after a hard day's work in the garden, crack open a can of VB, put her feet up and sing karaoke".
Yet the poverty was real and painful enough. Do and his siblings learned how to hide from unpaid landlords, and his mother often couldn't afford the sports uniforms and textbooks required by the Catholic school St Aloysius, to which her sons had won partial scholarships. Do copped detention for "forgetting" his nonexistent textbooks rather than admit he couldn't afford them.
Yet he rarely engages in self-pity, often wringing humour from the everyday humiliations of never having enough. In high school, while his basketball teammates wore designer sports shoes -- Reebok Pumps or Air Jordans -- he turned up in Kind Lions, bought for $15 at an Asian grocery store. To get traction on the court surface, he rubbed the soles in soft drink.
Despite his turbulent teenage years, Do did well at high school and studied law at the University of Technology, Sydney. When he graduated, business firm Andersen Consulting offered him a sought-after job. He says: "They were telling me, maybe a 60-hour work week. I asked a comedian, 'How many hours do you work?' He said four. I think I chose comedy out of laziness more than anything."
Do says he stumbled into comedy by accident. While a law student, egged on by friends, he braved the stage during amateur comedy nights at Sydney's Harold Park Hotel. He was 22 when he won the hotel's comedian of the year award, and this served as a launch pad to a professional career. Since then he has appeared on The Footy Show, Rove, Good News Week, Thank God You're Here and The Panel, and last year hosted the sports quiz program The Squiz on SBS.
He has performed at the Adelaide Fringe Festival, Melbourne's International Comedy Festival and the Sydney Comedy Festival, and has twice staged solo shows at the Sydney Opera House. In 2008 he filmed a Beijing Olympics special for the Ten Network, a brief that included drinking (and vomiting up) juice from a snake's gall bladder. In 2007 he appeared on Dancing with the Stars. The judges weren't always onside but the viewers were: their votes catapulted him and his outsize grin into the grand final (which he lost to the glamorous actress Bridie Carter). In his book, he recalls how this experience "melted away all those moments in my life, and there have been very few to be honest, where I'd copped racism and been made to feel like an outsider".
As well as making a living making people laugh, Do is an actor and filmmaker. In 2003, he and his brother Khoa released the gritty feature film The Finished People. Produced by Anh and directed by Khoa, it starred street kids from Sydney's Cabramatta who played characters based on their own experiences. Despite a budget ($5000) that barely qualified as shoestring, it was nominated for three AFI awards and won an Inside Film prize. It also led to Khoa being named 2005's Young Australian of the Year.
The brothers again collaborated on the feelgood film Footy Legends (2006), about a team of likable Sydney no-hopers who pin their hopes on a rugby league competition, which featured Claudia Karvan as a social worker and Do as the lead character, Luc, a big-hearted young man who is trying to find work while raising his sister. He quips: "I described him in detail [in the script] to look like me so the production company couldn't sneak in another Asian actor."
The Do family's journey from Vietnam is at once a cautionary tale and the story of a desperate generation whose children eventually make good in their adopted country. Do says his family fled the communist country after being persecuted for having fought "alongside Aussie soldiers in the Vietnam War. One of my uncles was a sapper who cleared landmines for Anzacs."
He sees the heated asylum-seeker debate through the prism of this experience: today, he says, if an Afghan performed a similar job, "I reckon a lot of Australians would say, 'Let's look after him.' But the way we're viewing it, we're not even giving these people a chance to tell their stories. We're sort of judging them as illegal criminals."
The Do clan left Vietnam in a boat they bought. They were twice robbed and terrorised by pirates and ran out of food and water before they were rescued and taken to a Malaysian refugee camp. From there they came to Australia as refugees. Do says his family often laughs about the boat trip that almost killed them (and did kill a young family friend). This jet-black humour initially shocked Suzi but, as Do explains, "it doesn't mean that we weren't frightened or that it wasn't life-threatening, but that's how we deal with it". He then leans across the table and makes a startling confession: "Before, I was quite scared of my story, even ashamed of it." Because his dad left? "All of it," he says emphatically. "As a bloke you just don't want people to know anything that might make you seem vulnerable or weak. You put on a facade that everything's sweet, you know." He pauses to reflect. "I've learned now that telling that story is OK."
Source
I just found the Official Anh Do Page!
![]() |
Release date: 1st Week of September |
Labels:
Anh Do,
Books,
News,
The Happiest Refugee,
Vietnamese Australian
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Chinese Diggers, Asian ANZACs - Guest Post
I recently did a guest post on Asian ANZACs for YouOffendMeYouOffendMyFamily and in it I basically talk about how I came to be interested in them and how they are being forgotten (or staying undiscovered). Click here to view.
I've also made some updates to the Asian ANZACs post and it looks presentable now. I've mainly focused on WW1 but will get around to WW2 soon and am looking forward to finding some more interesting info.
I've also made some updates to the Asian ANZACs post and it looks presentable now. I've mainly focused on WW1 but will get around to WW2 soon and am looking forward to finding some more interesting info.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
New Chinese Australian War Memorial to be completed by Remembrance day
Here's the winning design for the "Australian Service Personnel of Chinese Heritage War Memorial" to be built in Sunnybank, Queensland. The member for Moreton ran a competition for the design and this entry was chosen amongst 50 entries. I hope it looks better when it is built.
Phil Lep who is representing RSL Sunnybank (Sub Branch) and Ralph Seeto who is representing the Chinese Community did the First Sod.
To mark the occasion, Melody Chen, President of World Arts & Multi- Culture donated $500.00 and Peter Kao, Honorary Member of Lions Club of Brisbane Chinese donated $1,000.00 towards the construction of the War Memorial project.
I'll try to get in contact with Phil to see if he can give me some info about himself and other Chinese Australians from his area who served Australia.
Read more about the design here
Speech in parliament
First Sod
See the updated Asian ANZACs page
Phil Lep who is representing RSL Sunnybank (Sub Branch) and Ralph Seeto who is representing the Chinese Community did the First Sod.
To mark the occasion, Melody Chen, President of World Arts & Multi- Culture donated $500.00 and Peter Kao, Honorary Member of Lions Club of Brisbane Chinese donated $1,000.00 towards the construction of the War Memorial project.
I'll try to get in contact with Phil to see if he can give me some info about himself and other Chinese Australians from his area who served Australia.
Read more about the design here
Speech in parliament
First Sod
See the updated Asian ANZACs page
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Chasing her dream all the way to London
Source
HANNAH Chung is just 16 but, unlike most of the girls her age, she has little time for shopping and catching up with friends.
Instead, the Epping ballerina spends her time preparing for a career as a dancer.
She was the only Asian in last weekend’s final of the McDonald’s Ballet Scholarship, the most valuable and prestigious award available to aspiring classical dancers in the southern hemisphere.
And, although she did not win, she earned the right to fulfil a long-cherished dream by dancing solo on the stage at Sydney Opera House.
Next month she will begin training at The Royal Ballet School in London.
The judges of the weekend contest praised the high standard of this year’s entrants and Hannah’s parents said at the after-party that they were very proud of her and appreciated all she had gained through the competition.
It has been a long journey already.
Even Hannah’s “casual time” is related to ballet.
“I go home. I listen to music and relax. But I like to go on YouTube searching different dancers around and learning from them,” she said.
She has no hobbies but loves reading.
“I read biographies; I find these people’s lives so interesting - how they get to the top and their journey through whatever they had to overcome to become who they are.
“For example Irina Baronova, the Russian ballerina, it really inspiring.”
And Hannah is pursuing her own dream, which is to get a contract with the Royal Ballet in London.
“I think it’s important to be really positive and to have that confidence to know you can do it,” she said.
“Sometimes your body is just exhausted, you are emotionally drained and you think ‘oh, I can’t do this any more’, but you get up next day, you go to class, you keep doing what you do,” she said
“I can’t imagine myself living a normal life without ballet.
“It’s just a part of me now I think. So much joy.”
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Mother giving birth 'injected with poison'
![]() |
Jason Zheng with his two-month-old son, Alexander. |
ALEXANDER Zheng's cot is still unassembled in a Sydney apartment where he has never been.
Home, for now, is a bassinet wedged into a room in the high-dependency unit of St George Hospital, where the two-month-old's mother lies catastrophically injured.
Grace Wang's spinal canal was injected with a powerful antiseptic instead of anaesthetic, in what should have been a routine epidural to ease the pain of her first child's birth.
The devastating medical mistake - inconceivable in its magnitude - has poisoned her nervous system, leaving the 32-year-old distressed, confused, in shocking pain and unable to walk or even sit.
![]() |
Grace Wang, who is unable to care for her son. |
She has lost the strength to hold Alex, and rarely asks about her baby, as she did constantly after his birth.
The future may not bring relief, as Ms Wang's physical and psychological condition has deteriorated since the accident on June 26, and new symptoms continue to emerge.
In the first three relatively hopeful weeks, her husband, Jason Zheng, cooked for Ms Wang and fed and changed Alex, who has apparently not suffered from the drug error.
Now Ms Wang has had surgery to relieve fluid pressure on her brain, and Mr Zheng maintains a vigil beside his increasingly frightened and disoriented wife, leaving little time for his son. The longed-for baby - who followed three miscarriages - is cared for by a nurse the hospital provides. The couple have no family in Sydney, where they migrated from China.
''It's like we are ignoring that we have a son,'' said the distraught father, who will begin legal action.
''If my son has a memory, I don't think he remembers he has a father. But I think he can still remember his mum's smell.''
Alex snuggles close when placed alongside his mother, but breastfeeding has been impossible for fear the many medicines she is taking may affect the milk.
''Every day she's suffering and she says she wants to give up,'' Mr Zheng said. ''She was crying last night when she touched her son. I just want to change my body to hers.''
Another thing Mr Zheng wants, and which motivated his decision to speak publicly, is to make contact with anyone who has suffered similarly, in the hope their doctors may advise on Ms Wang's treatment.
Epidural administration of chlorhexidine - used to clean skin before injections and strong enough to neutralise resistant hospital bacteria - is so rare that Ms Wang's doctors have identified only one other case.
Angelique Sutcliffe, from Britain, was paralysed for life after the chemical entered her epidural in 2001. But this was just a droplet - a fraction of the eight millilitres infused into Ms Wang.
Managers at St George Hospital yesterday admitted error and pledged to support the family, but would not explain the possible source of such a fundamental mistake in a commonplace procedure: nearly 40,000 epidurals were conducted in 2006, the most recent New South Wales statistics show, in 43 per cent of all births.
The state's Minister for Health, Carmel Tebbutt, said: ''This is an extremely distressing case and I offer my sincere apologies.''
She said investigations had been ordered.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Our Natalie raking in $100,000 a year from YouTube

From SMH
Australia's queen of YouTube, Natalie Tran, is one of just 10 independent YouTube stars around the world who made more than $US100,000 from the site in the past year.
Tran, who creates her videos at her parents' home in western Sydney, has eschewed titillation in favour of clever skits about her life.
Her three most popular clips, with millions of views each, are "How to fake a six pack", "The ultrasound" and "Bending at the knees for love".
Tran's page, communitychannel, has long been the most subscribed Australian YouTube channel of all time, with 740,682 subscribers and more than 270 million views on her videos to date. Worldwide, she is 23rd most subscribed of all time.
A new study by YouTube analytics and advertising firm TubeMogul, first reported by BusinessInsider, used users' viewership data to estimate their annual income under YouTube's partner program, which allows the most popular users to take half of the advertising revenue derived from their clips.
The study applied to anyone who was not part of a major media brand and covered the period from July 2009 to July this year.
Tran, with almost 139 million views in that year, was found to have earned an income of $US101,000.
This is a conservative estimate and covers just the Google ads alongside each clip - the figure could be higher if one includes money earned from paid endorsements and product placement.
The comedic value is in Tran's satirical re-enactments of the situations she is talking about and the fact that she plays all of the characters.
Tran did not respond to a request for comment today but in an interview with this website last year she said: "I think that to have longevity on these kind of websites you need to offer something different ... there's plenty of [sexual] material on the internet that would provide that kind of entertainment already."
She said the skits were all based on things that happened in her day, "just a little bit exaggerated for comedy purposes".
"They're not hugely deep and meaningful videos; they're just short snippets that are meant to be a little bit of fun in somebody's lunch break ... the world wouldn't be a worse place without them," she said.
The immense popularity of YouTube has created celebrities out of ordinary people around the world. It offers seemingly limitless exposure for people to market their personal brands.
Top 10 YouTube earners in the past year
1. Shane Dawson - $US315,000
2. The Annoying Orange - $US288,000
3. Philip DeFranco - $US181,000
4. Ryan Higa - $US151,000
5. Fred - $US146,000
6. Shay Carl - $US140,000
7. Mediocre Films - $US116,000
8. Smosh - $US113,000
9. The Young Turks - $US112,000
10. Natalie Tran - $US101,000 <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Know Your Asian Australians: Annette Shun Wah
This week I caught up with media personality Annete Shun Wah. She has been in movies such as Floating Life and The Home Song Stories, and numerous television and radio shows. Annette also shared with us a part of her life in Growing Up Asian in Australia. Her family has been in Australia since the late 1800s and you can read more about the history of the Shun Wahs here.
Who are you?
An optimistic woman with a short attention span.
What do you do?
I'm a writer, broadcaster, actor and sometime theatre producer based in Sydney.
I'm involved in a variety of projects, currently ranging from programming and hosting a music show called “Global Beat” on Qantas inflight radio, to MC at big events such as WOMADelaide, Sydney Writers’Festival and OzAsia Festival which is coming up in Adelaide in September. I'm also writing and researching a project with the Powerhouse Museum and dLux Media Arts.
I also run Performance 4a, a non-profit organisation dedicated to inspiring Asian-Australian performance, and am developing a festival of performance for Sydney early in 2011.
I serve on the board of the Sydney Writers’ Festival and on the Performing Arts and Arts Management Committee of Asialink.
What made you go on this path?
Given my short attention span, I don’t really travel one “path” but many. A “profusion” one might say, or a “diffusion”, or more accurately, a “confusion”. My love of music scored me a job in radio before I'd even finished my Uni degree, and led to a career in the media (commercial radio, Triple J, SBS-TV, ABC-TV). My work has usually been about media, arts and identity.
Political/social issues: just the usual – equality, justice, freedom.
I guess the thing I'm most vocal about is a recognition and embrace of Australia's culturally diverse society. I think we all have much to gain by being more curious and open to difference, rather than fearing it. A more inclusive society will be fairer, more harmonious, more imaginative and.. produce much more entertaining TV, music and film!
What's your background?
I talked about my family's story as part of the Centenary of Federation Ceremony in Sydney's Centennial park. My paternal great-grandfather came to Darwin from Canton, China in 1878, and set up a bakery. His daughter, my grandma, was born in Darwin, married and moved to central Queensland where my father was born, the second youngest of 7. The family went to China in 1932, and my father grew up there, marrying my mother and having my eldest brother, before returning to Australia in 1950. My second brother and I were born in Cairns, north Qld. I grew up just north of Brisbane on a chook farm!
What makes you laugh?
My puppy. My partner. My friends. Ahn Do. Jon Stewart. Simon Pegg. Stephen Fry. Bill Bailey. Spinal Tap. And Barnaby Joyce.
What’s one thing you couldn’t live without?
Memories.
What was the last book/movie that you read/saw?
Last books: The Master by Colm Toibin and The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot. Both highly recommended and better than any movie I’ve seen in ages.
What’s one thing about yourself most people wouldn’t know?
I am NOT, and never have been, Lee Lin Chin. Stop confusing us, people!
I read some of your comments regarding The Legend of Billy Sing casting controversy, can you restate what you wrote?
I was very angry that this could happen in this day and age. Here was a great opportunity to tell the story of an Australian war figure, who happened to be half-Chinese and half-English, yet the director chose to cast non-Chinese actors in the lead (the director’s son, by the by) and as the father, who was in fact, Shanghainese. This lazy casting is a betrayal of history, eliminates the extraordinary circumstances that make this such an interesting and complex story, dishonours Billy Sing and his family, and whitewashes the telling of Australian stories. Again.
What would you say to someone who told you that there are a lack of Asian or talented Asian actors in Australia?
That they are mistaken. There are currently 73 Asian-Australian actors on the Performance 4a directory alone. There are many others who have not yet signed to the directory. Acting institutions churn out a new batch every year.
Who do you think perpetuates this myth? Are we partly to blame?
What are the issues/obstacles facing Asian actors?
Let me answer these two questions as one.
Actors of Asian ethnicity are not given the casting opportunities afforded other actors. They are called only when a character is specifically described by ethnicity. Otherwise, when casting the majority of roles that might call for “a mother” or “a lawyer” or “a neighbour”, Asian-Australian actors aren't offered the opportunity to audition.
Because they so rarely get the parts, their work is not seen (hence the assumption that there is a lack of talent ) and they do not get the same opportunities to develop their craft. Many end up working overseas.
If you think about it, few Asian-Australian roles means few Asian-Australian stories, or perspectives, in our canon. So it’s not just the actors who are excluded, but our stories, our experiences, and our points of view. That’s the real concern.
Who is to blame? Anyone who doesn’t see how important this is.
What’s the solution? Devise your own work. Let’s stop relying on others.
Do you think the response from our community was adequate? How could we be more organised?
Do you mean the response to the Billy Sing casting? I don’t want to give it any more oxygen. I would think it’ll never see the light of day. But if it does, we should watch it – so as to be informed - then give ‘em hell! This deserves as much attention as the Hey Hey black face incident, and is in many ways far worse. Networks such as blogs, Facebook pages and groups such as Performance 4a should spread the word and organise high profile artists, writers, etc to voice well-conceived arguments.
Who’s one of your favourite Asian Australians and why?
So many – it’s hard to choose – especially those who are my personal friends. Historically, Quong Tart achieved so much for both Chinese and Australians in his day. A just and honourable man. I also admire filmmaker Khoa Do – incredibly talented, inspiring, smart, funny and generous of spirit.
What’s your favourite memory about growing up Asian in Australia?
My parents and older brothers spending half a day in the kitchen making our very own spring rolls, as a way of persuading me that they’d be better than store-bought Chiko rolls! I was too little to help with the cooking (but not the eating). Feeding us something special was the closest my parents ever came to expressing affection.
What advice would you give to young Asian Australians thinking of entering the media/acting industry?
Go for it! We need your talent and your passion. But be prepared for a tough time, and most importantly, look after yourself by making sure you have an alternative way of earning a living, so you’re never in a position where you’re forced to do something you’re not comfortable with.
Thanks for your time Annette and thanks for speaking up! The OZAsia festival is looking really good this year. You can find out more on Performance 4a here and some of those in the directory include Chris Pang and Andy Minh Trieu (both in Tomorrow, When the War Began, which comes out next month)
Click here to read other interviews in the Know Your Asian Australians series
Labels:
Annette Shun Wah,
Chinese Australian,
Performance 4a
Monday, August 16, 2010
Why don’t Anglo women like Asian men?
If you haven't caught on yet, there's a letter posted in by an Asian man asking for advice from Ask Bossy as to why white girls don't like Asian men and why the opposite, white men-Asian women is so common.
I think we are coming to the stage where we have to look a bit closer at the issues at hand. But not yet.
This one is actually a good reply
Ask Bossy - Why don't Anglo women like Asian men?
(and from waaaay back in 2006 a post by Sam de Brito Why don't Aussie girls date Asian men?)
Also, one of the funniest sites I've been to recently White Men Asian Women. Enjoy! (via AMR)
I think we are coming to the stage where we have to look a bit closer at the issues at hand. But not yet.
This one is actually a good reply
I'm a late 20s Asian FOB who’s dated plenty of Anglo (and non-Anglo white) girls. I’m short (5’7"), have a geeky job, not rich and averagely equipped. Most white girls I’ve dated are taller than me, one as tall as 6’2” (a Swede) - btw a man doesn’t need to be taller than a woman to make her feel feminine. Half of them have never considered dating an Asian guy before (some have the same bad & faulty generalisation certain women on here have mentioned), half have. I’m currently seeing an Anglo girl, whose sister is married to a Chinese Singaporean fella. Some of my Asian friends (FOB or born here) are dating white girls of various backgrounds as well.
That’s not to say girls throw themselves at me, but I do just fine compared to your average bloke of any given race.
If your Asian brothers struggle to get a date, tell them to stop eating tofu (that shit kills your testosterone), eat more red meat, lift some heavy weights, lose that horrible effeminate Korean pop haircut, get some interesting hobbies and tell their parents to butt out of their dating life if they want grandchildren. That goes regardless of what kind of girls you’re after (unless you like the really butch one).
108spirits of Melbourne
Ask Bossy - Why don't Anglo women like Asian men?
(and from waaaay back in 2006 a post by Sam de Brito Why don't Aussie girls date Asian men?)
Also, one of the funniest sites I've been to recently White Men Asian Women. Enjoy! (via AMR)
Friday, August 13, 2010
Tomorrow, When the War Began (2)
I wrote some stuff about it here and stephiepenguin wrote something here. The movie doesn't seem too bad at the moment.
Below are the trailer and various other bits, be sure to check out the interview with Chris Pang (first vid). Chris Pang's Performance4a profile.
From SMH Asian invasion for film of Marsden classic
And don't forget some other Asian Australians who play a part in the movie, namely the bad guys.
Shout out goes to Masa Yamaguchi and Andy Minh Trieu. Well done fellas. You can follow Andy's blog here.
Below are the trailer and various other bits, be sure to check out the interview with Chris Pang (first vid). Chris Pang's Performance4a profile.
From SMH Asian invasion for film of Marsden classic
And don't forget some other Asian Australians who play a part in the movie, namely the bad guys.
Shout out goes to Masa Yamaguchi and Andy Minh Trieu. Well done fellas. You can follow Andy's blog here.
![]() |
Andy Minh Trieu |
![]() |
Masa Yamaguchi |
Labels:
AMWF,
Andy Minh Trieu,
Chris Pang,
Films,
Masa Yamaguchi,
Tomorrow When the War Began,
Youtube
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Stuck in the middle? 1.5 generation Asian-Australians by Nami Kwon
This article is from 2006 and was found on a uni site. This is soooooo me.
MINH BULH JONES was walking home one day when he suddenly heard the revving of a car engine behind him. He turned around and saw the bonnet of a Holden Monaro accelerating towards him.
Minh dropped his bag and started running frantically as the two men chased him, laughing at the sight of him dodging for cover. "Go back where you come from, ching-chong," they yelled before driving away.
This was the final straw for Minh. For ten years, since arriving from Vietnam, he had tried hard to fit into Australian society. His efforts included taking up Aussie Rules, playing cricket in a helmet twice his size, holding BBQs in his backyard, buying regular jars of vegemite and becoming a journalist because "that's what an Australian without any career prospects would do."
Despite such attempts, Minh says he still "stood out like Henry Lawson's Bastard from the Bush".
So finally, he gave up, angry and hurt at his wasted efforts. He turned his back on Australia and started to proclaim he was Vietnamese. “I convinced myself that I was living in exile, and that one day, I would, like Odysseus, set sail for that sweetest of journeys – home, which was Viet Nam, my island in the mind,” he says.
In 1993 Minh finally reached his romanticised home country but he was unprepared for the culture shock that awaited him there. Nothing was as he had imagined and he realised “the bittersweet truth, both disillusioning and exhilarating…being in Viet Nam was making me homesick. I was missing Australia – the country I had rejected”.
Minh is one of three writers who penned an essay for In-Between 1.5 generation Viet-Aust, a combination of literary and artistic works that looked at the issues of the 1.5 generation Vietnamese in Australia.
Minh's experiences, as told above, are catalogued in “The Journey Home”, which tells his story of living between two cultures and constantly searching for a sense of belonging between them.
"Young immigrants like myself who fall between the definitional stools of first and second generations; social misfits who neither fit into their family nor their society; Nigels of the cultural never-never. Those of us whose home is a floating world of split identities, cultural ambiguities and multiple neuroses," is how Minh describes the 1.5 generation.
Who are the 1.5 generation?
Many 1.5 generation Asian-Australians (1.5ers) are able to identify with Minh's description. The 1.5ers are those who were born overseas but migrated to Australia with their parents when they were young children.
This group is able to immerse itself into their new country, unlike their parents. They attend local schools, mingle with Australian peers, learn to speak the language fluently and grow up with an intimate knowledge of their new country’s culture.
However, at the same time, they also grow up with the values and traditions of their birth country. In the family home, the 1.5ers' parents try to retain their origin's culture and a sense of stability amidst an environment of change.
Hence the 1.5ers live in between two cultures and often feel pulled between the two.
Dr Allen Bartley, who researched 1.5 generation Asian-New Zealanders for his doctorate thesis, describes this group as “a special category of migrants”. They contend with the challenges that all migrants undergo, such as displacement, adjustment and alienation, but in addition to that they also experience other unique challenges specific to them.
“They are located at the convergence of a number of different social pressures: between childhood and adulthood; often between their parents and the local community; between origin and host societies; and between competing demands on loyalty and attachment,” says Dr Bartley.
This holds interesting implications for the 1.5ers in terms of how they construct their identity and create a balance between their two cultures.
Identity - Is Asian-Australian an oxymoron?
Thao Nguyen, always grew up thinking she was Vietnamese although she has lived in Australia since she was a 2-month old baby.
She told The Sydney Morning Herald that when she was 11-years-old, she was confused after reading on her passport that she was Australian. “I thought Australia was white and I never called myself Australian,” says Thao.
For 1.5 generation Asian-Australians like Thao, their perceived physical difference – in a country where the mainstream is Anglo-Saxon – can often play a role in hindering them from feeling completely Australian.
Despite Pauline Hanson's claims of Asians "swamping" Australia, Department of Immigration statistics reveal only 4.5% of the Australian population is made up of people from Asian background.
"You look at the Chinese that have been here since the gold rush – five or six generations – and they’re still asked, ‘can you speak English?’ or ‘where are you from?' "says Thao.
“So you still have a legacy that Australia is white and the White Australia Policy was only officially dismantled in the 70s, so there is this sense of White Australia still existing and it will take incredible effort in order to shift that.”
Thao, who was selected as Australia’s Youth Representative to the United Nations in 2004, says her selection was “ironic” because many people didn't think of her as Australian. They would say things like, “we never would think you would be Australian” or “oh, you don’t look Australian”.
“I don’t know if I took it personally because it was just about their perception of Australia as a country. But it made me feel a sense of exclusion because you’re not legitimate in a sense; you’re not a real Australian,” says Thao.
She says it was also disappointing because “time isn’t a factor” in being considered Australian.
But for others like Elaina Ou, their Asian appearance does not deter them as much. “I know there is a consensus among society that Australians are these Anglo-Saxon people but technically, I know that’s not true,” says Ms Ou.
Elaina says she considers herself Australian even though she was born in China. She is more laid-back and easy-going, characteristics that she attributes to being Australian
For Danny Kwon, the issue of his cultural identity is a no-brainer – he’s Australian. Despite his Asian appearance, he says he grew up in Australia with Australian people and “at the end of the day I see myself as an Australian, not Korean."
In Dr Bartley’s research, he found most 1.5ers’ identities were oriented towards being Asian rather than New Zealander. He says the social distance these 1.5ers felt between themselves and other New Zealanders was attributed to them being Asian.
The Korean-American journalist, Connie Kang went as far as to say that Asians could never fit into Western society because of their appearance.
“I do not believe we Asians can assimilate…because of how we look,” writes Ms Kang in her autobiography. “The melting pot was possible for non-English-speaking Caucasians from Europe once the second generation spoke English like natives. But with us, it does not matter how long our ancestors have been here and how well we speak English. Even a fourth-generation Chinese-American whose grandparents came to San Francisco in the 1850s will still be considered a “foreigner” in America."
However, there are subjective notions of being perceived as different, according to Christina Ho, from the University of Technology, Sydney. Hence people of Asian background may not be regarded as so different in the future.
Perceptions are also contextual, says Ms Ho,whose research interests include migration and identity. She points out that while European migrants were considered to be almost "alien-looking" in the 1950s, nowadays they are not considered to be that different.
"Even though objectively Asians do look different, it is still quite subjective,” says Ms Ho.
“I think a lot of these things have a subjective symbolism that becomes more or less important in different times. Asians are always going to look physically different but what subjective symbolism that difference has can change quite dramatically."
But for the time being, many 1.5ers identify with the 'banana' analogy: 'white' on the inside, 'yellow' on the outside. This conflict between what's inner and what's outer can leave them feeling split between the two identities, 'stuck in between' their two cultural sensibilities.
Stuck in the middle: The ‘in-between’ generation
The 1.5 generation often feel pulled between their two cultures and many describe it as being “stuck in between” or “living in two worlds”.
Daniel Kim says it is like wearing two invisible hats – he puts on his “Australian hat” when he leaves the house then dons the “Korean hat” when he comes back home.
He says the two hats “represents all things Australian, all things Western – the politics, the jokes, the sports, the food, the mannerisms, the use of language, the dispelling of stereotypes.”
Thao also identifies with this idea of wearing hats in different cultural environments. “Sometimes you can’t coexist in both of these worlds simultaneously,” says Ms Nguyen.
“Like the Thao with her boyfriend is different to the Thao with her family. Thao with her Anglo-Saxon friends is different to Thao with her Cabramatta friends.
“And so you do wear different hats and sometimes it’s very, very conscious. I do that and that’s a normal function of daily life for me, it basically becomes normal,” says Thao.
“I think it’s the only thing that you can do in order for all these parts of your life to exist [together] without a lot of trouble. So I think this is a mechanism that you’re forced to adopt."
For some 1.5ers, like Daniel and Thao, moving back and forth between the two cultural worlds is easy. Over time, it has become a part of their lives and they have grown accustomed to it.
However, for others, it can be more difficult and confusing. Connie Kang described it as “mental gymnastics of moving back and forth between these often-conflicting two worlds.”
“My several lives were often incompatible, and I led a schizophrenic existence. I shut the door to one when I entered the other. Back and forth I traveled, sometimes within minutes of each other. At times I felt at home in all, and at other times I thought I belonged to none. Could I really find one world where my life’s many components – now separated by languages, culture, and sensibilities – could be integrated?” writes Kang in her autobiography.
It is not easy negotiating a stable identity that incorporates both Asian and Australian, agrees Dr Bartley. “It is a difficult journey to get there,” he says.
The question for the 1.5 generation is whether they want to attempt to reconcile the two worlds or shift primacy – of loyalty, belonging and identity – to one or the other.
Often this is difficult to negotiate because the 1.5ers find it difficult to feel a complete sense of belonging in any of the worlds they exist in. Whether it is in Australia, their ethnic community in Australia or their country of origin, they never seem to feel a total sense of belonging. Thao says when she is in Australia she feels more Vietnamese but in Vietnam she feels more Australian. And while she feels more attachement to the latter, "at the same time, it's not complete, it's not complete belonging anywhere," she says.
Sahny Van describes a 1.5er as being "someone that isn’t identified as a person from their country of residence nor their place of birth. Someone that is caught in-between cultures." Sahny says he is definitely a person of the 1.5 generation. "Anglo-Saxons don't see me as an Australian from my looks dispite my accent. But Australian-Asians don't see me as Vietnamese because I don't speak Vietnamese, have a strong [Australian] accent and have been here for over 20 years," he says.
However, Dr Bartley says the conflict between the 1.5ers' two worlds is not always necessarily cultural. It also includes intergenerational tension.
“Parents often want or need them to acculturate quickly in order to be cultural brokers,” says Dr Bartley.
In other words, the 1.5 generation, who learn to speak English proficiently, are relied upon to act as mediators between their parents or migrant communities with the broader Australian society.
Thao took on this role as mediator from a young age. She’d translate documents and talk to insurance companies for her parents. When she was six-years-old she even negotiated a car accident settlement on behalf of her mother.
At the age of 14, Thao also coordinated the Holy Trinity Committee at her younger brother’s school, and attended all of his parent-teacher nights.
She says the responsibility forced her to be independent and resourceful.
Elaina is also familiar with the process of being child mediator. From the age of eight, she helped run her parents’ business, a Chinese takeout/restaurant at The Oaks.
She dealt with everyone from customers and tradesman to the local council where she would go with her dad to renew their business licence. She says she was her parents’ “little translator” because they couldn’t speak English.
Dr Bartley says parents want their children to quickly acculturate so they can help out with family responsibilities but at the same time, they also want their children to not acculturate too quickly, and retain the values and practices of their origin culture.
This is when the intergenerational conflict manifests itself because the 1.5 generation often can not meet both demands. Their parents want them to become Australian in one sense, but at the same time, they don’t want them to become completely Australian.
It is also difficult for the parents who want their children to retain their origin's heritage but see them becoming 'too Australian'. This is the situation faced by the Chinese mothers in Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club when one of them says, "I wanted my children to have the best combinations: American circumstances and Chinese character. How could I know these two things do not mix?"
The 1.5ers would have to agree that the two things do not mix. They have to quickly become independent, resilient and resourceful in the Australian society but within the family home, they are expected be obedient, respectful and dutiful to their parents. These two sets of expectations often clash.
The 1.5ers may thus have more responsibilities but perhaps less rights than their Australian peers. Many 1.5ers have stricter impositions on things such as going out, staying out late and studying hard.
In particular, there is a great emphasis placed on studying and education by the parents of the 1.5ers. This is partly because many of the parents came to Australia seeking better opportunities for their children and partly because Asian Confucius culture places a high premium on education and learning.
Thao says her parents wanted her to study hard so she could “a) redeem them and b) not recycle their lives.” She says her parents worked incredibly hard so she and her siblings could have the opportunity to succeed.
However, Thao says a lot of the pressure was also self-imposed. She says 1.5ers have direct access to the sufferings of their parents as they witness them struggling in a new country. Thao say this had an impact on her and gave her the impetus to over-achieve.
Daniel's parents also expected him to do well and placed importance on education. However, Daniel says the parental expectation is fair.
His parents, who lived affluently in South Korea, gave up everything so their children could have better opportunities in Australia. “They’ve sacrificed and as a consequence they don’t want to see their sacrifice go to waste,” says Daniel.
But he does acknowledge that parents can go overboard. “Some parents go over the edge and that can do more harm than good, so it needs to be balanced,” says Daniel.
For 1.5ers the issue is often about finding this sense of balance between the many pulling forces in their lives, compromising their position between family and society, between the different worlds they inhabit.
According to Cuong Phu Le, the Asian-Australian Community Cultural Development Officer at the Casula Powerhouse Arts Centre, the way to create this balance is by creating a bridge between the two cultures or worlds.
Mr Le, who has initiated and curated a number of projects on 1.5 generation Vietnamese-Australians in Sydney, says the concept of the bridge is important in reconciling differences and building a harmonious balance between the two cultures.
Mr Le’s projects with the 1.5 generation aim to show how such bridges can be built. This has been done through the works of artists and writers, who show their own individual process of creating an equilibrium between two cultures through the metaphorical representation in their works.
For example, in the exhibition, In-Between 1.5 Generation Viet-Aust, Binh Truong made a short film featuring a girl who goes on a quest to find her true identity. The protagonist is symbolically named Hyphen and she is the creation of invitro fertilisation. Her search for identity is representative of the artist's own experience of yearning to know who she is because she is also made up of many components. The film concludes with Hyphen discovering that she is the product of two worlds (Alpha and Beta) and that is she the essence of the best characteristics from each world.
Going back to the motherland
When Elaina went back to China for the first time in 1997 she experienced an unexpected culture shock. The air was polluted, the skies were a murky yellow colour and there were always so many people and traffic bustling about.
Elaina says she felt very Australian in China. This showed in subtle ways like how she and her two siblings couldn’t eat Chinese food every day because they grew sick of it, and they had to find a place that sold hamburgers
It also didn’t help when relatives kept commenting that the Ou children had become “so Australian”.
Elaina came back to Australia “feeling quite uncomfortable as to who I was, whether I was Australian or whether I was Chinese, whether I had to be one or the other. I also came back thinking, ‘I don’t exactly fit in over there but yet when I’m in Australia, I’m not Australian in the sense that I’m not Anglo-Saxon’…I found myself being more confused.”
When the 1.5 generation return to their country of origin, it often challenges the notions of their identity, says Dr Bartley. For some, it is realising how much they have adapted to their new country and how foreign their country of birth has become.
So for 1.5ers like Minh in “The Journey Home”, a return to their country of origin can affirm their Australian-ness.
Daniel says after his first trip to South Korea in 1996, it opened up a newfound interest and pride in his heritage.
He yearned to learn more about Korean culture, language and its people. So he started watching Korean dramas, which contain “the stereotypical Korean culture in a box” and began associating with more Korean peers at university.
“It was the realisation that deep down, I am still Korean,” says Daniel.
Similarly, Thao says a trip to Vietnam in 1999 helped her obtain a sense of peace about who she was.
She says growing up, she had always been told about a kind of “dream world”, a place where she had come from.
But Thao says she could never reach out to this “dream world” or confirm its existence, which made her feel like it was also a “ghost world”.
“But the ghost world is a part of you because you were brought up in this ghost world. You were brought up on the values of this ghost world, the images of this ghost world,” says Thao.
“And then when you go to that country, it’s realised, it’s real, it’s tangible. And so then a part of you gets validated, a part of you becomes tangible. All those things that you were brought up on – the values, how you see yourself, this and that – it becomes more cemented, it becomes more real because this world is real now it’s not just a ghost world anymore.
“So then the part of you that is dependent on all of these things, this upbringing and this ghost world, becomes validated and so you as a person can obtain a sense of peace,” says Thao.
The future of 1.5 generation Asian-Australians
The emergence of 1.5 generation Asian-Australians is a relatively recent phenomenon. This is because people of Asian background have only been able to migrate to Australia since 1974 when the White Australia Policy was formally abolished.
The 1.5 generation has statistically been counted as part of the first generation and in Australia they have not received much attention from academia or broader society.
But Dr Bartley says there needs to be more awareness and research on 1.5 generation Asian-Australians.
One of his key findings showed many 1.5 Asian-New Zealanders were reproducing transnational patterns like their parents, choosing to live overseas in their adult years. Dr Bartley wonders whether Australia could be experiencing similar migration patterns.
If 1.5 generation Asian-Australians opt to work and live overseas like their New Zealand counterparts, this could have significant implications for Australia’s discourses on migration, permanent settlement and loyalty, says Dr Bartley.
And if the 1.5ers are moving overseas then Australia could be losing a valuable resource.
“This is a generation of well-resourced, ambitious, motivated, multi-lingual, culturally-flexible entrepreneurs,” Dr Bartley says.
“They have a dual insider/outsider role in both communities and the 1.5 generation can critically reflect on both cultures. What they need is the opportunity to develop a sociological imagination”.
Thao is a good example of what Dr Bartley is describing.
She was selected as Australia’s representative to the UN because the skills that were required for the role were ones that she possessed having grown up as a 1.5 generation, bicultural person. For example, she is able to move fluidly in different and often challenging environments, interacts well with a diverse range of people and looks at things with broad perspective. She attributes these skills to her background.
“You are brought up as a mediator, you are a cultural mediator,” says Thao. “And so you exist in an interface – you exist in the cultural interface and you exist as a cultural interface. And so that becomes a skill for you to negotiate diversity.”
Similarly, many other 1.5ers are able to acknowledge the skills they have developed as a bicultural person.
Elaina says her position has allowed her to be more flexible, open-minded and understanding of other people and other cultures. She is able to look at situations with two perspectives, which gives her more awareness, insight and balance.
Daniel compares the experiences of the 1.5ers to the life experiences obtained from traveling overseas.
He says when people travel overseas, they’re forced to live and breathe a different type of world to what they’re used to. Then when they return, they are able to draw upon their experiences of living in that different culture and apply what they’ve learned to their everyday lives.
“So you’ve got people who pay the money and take the time out of their life and look for that experience - I’ve been born into it. I’ve been given the opportunity to live in a foreign country and yet still grow up with this cultural heritage of being Korean,” says Daniel.
But it’s not just about what the 1.5 generation can gain. It’s also about what society can gain from the experiences and skills of this group.
Dr Bartley says the 1.5 generation also acts as a bridge between the Asian communities and mainstream Australian society.
“They can mediate between the two communities; they can model Australian values to their parents while modeling origin society values back to Australians,” he says.
Cuong Phu Le also says the 1.5ers are an important link between the first and second generations in their own ethnic communities.
“The 1.5 generation is the bridge between the first and second [generations],” says Mr Le. “Because without them, who’s going to bring out the Vietnamese culture in a way that is accessible to the second and third generations?”
But for the time being, the 1.5 generation just want to be recognised for who they are. Rather than feeling like non-citizens, lost in an abyss, they want a sense of belonging in a country they grew up in or the cultures they were raised in.
As Minh concluded in his story, "There are hundreds if not thousands like me, those 1.5 [Asian]-Australians, who have thrashed their way through this unbidden journey of self-discovery."
Perhaps it's time the coin flipped. Maybe Australia needs to reassess its own identity as the dynamics of its multicultural society continues to change and the definition of who is Australian becomes more fluid.
MINH BULH JONES was walking home one day when he suddenly heard the revving of a car engine behind him. He turned around and saw the bonnet of a Holden Monaro accelerating towards him.
Minh dropped his bag and started running frantically as the two men chased him, laughing at the sight of him dodging for cover. "Go back where you come from, ching-chong," they yelled before driving away.
This was the final straw for Minh. For ten years, since arriving from Vietnam, he had tried hard to fit into Australian society. His efforts included taking up Aussie Rules, playing cricket in a helmet twice his size, holding BBQs in his backyard, buying regular jars of vegemite and becoming a journalist because "that's what an Australian without any career prospects would do."
Despite such attempts, Minh says he still "stood out like Henry Lawson's Bastard from the Bush".
So finally, he gave up, angry and hurt at his wasted efforts. He turned his back on Australia and started to proclaim he was Vietnamese. “I convinced myself that I was living in exile, and that one day, I would, like Odysseus, set sail for that sweetest of journeys – home, which was Viet Nam, my island in the mind,” he says.
In 1993 Minh finally reached his romanticised home country but he was unprepared for the culture shock that awaited him there. Nothing was as he had imagined and he realised “the bittersweet truth, both disillusioning and exhilarating…being in Viet Nam was making me homesick. I was missing Australia – the country I had rejected”.
Minh is one of three writers who penned an essay for In-Between 1.5 generation Viet-Aust, a combination of literary and artistic works that looked at the issues of the 1.5 generation Vietnamese in Australia.
Minh's experiences, as told above, are catalogued in “The Journey Home”, which tells his story of living between two cultures and constantly searching for a sense of belonging between them.
"Young immigrants like myself who fall between the definitional stools of first and second generations; social misfits who neither fit into their family nor their society; Nigels of the cultural never-never. Those of us whose home is a floating world of split identities, cultural ambiguities and multiple neuroses," is how Minh describes the 1.5 generation.
Who are the 1.5 generation?
Many 1.5 generation Asian-Australians (1.5ers) are able to identify with Minh's description. The 1.5ers are those who were born overseas but migrated to Australia with their parents when they were young children.
This group is able to immerse itself into their new country, unlike their parents. They attend local schools, mingle with Australian peers, learn to speak the language fluently and grow up with an intimate knowledge of their new country’s culture.
However, at the same time, they also grow up with the values and traditions of their birth country. In the family home, the 1.5ers' parents try to retain their origin's culture and a sense of stability amidst an environment of change.
Hence the 1.5ers live in between two cultures and often feel pulled between the two.
Dr Allen Bartley, who researched 1.5 generation Asian-New Zealanders for his doctorate thesis, describes this group as “a special category of migrants”. They contend with the challenges that all migrants undergo, such as displacement, adjustment and alienation, but in addition to that they also experience other unique challenges specific to them.
“They are located at the convergence of a number of different social pressures: between childhood and adulthood; often between their parents and the local community; between origin and host societies; and between competing demands on loyalty and attachment,” says Dr Bartley.
This holds interesting implications for the 1.5ers in terms of how they construct their identity and create a balance between their two cultures.
Identity - Is Asian-Australian an oxymoron?
![]() |
Thao Nguyen |
She told The Sydney Morning Herald that when she was 11-years-old, she was confused after reading on her passport that she was Australian. “I thought Australia was white and I never called myself Australian,” says Thao.
For 1.5 generation Asian-Australians like Thao, their perceived physical difference – in a country where the mainstream is Anglo-Saxon – can often play a role in hindering them from feeling completely Australian.
Despite Pauline Hanson's claims of Asians "swamping" Australia, Department of Immigration statistics reveal only 4.5% of the Australian population is made up of people from Asian background.
"You look at the Chinese that have been here since the gold rush – five or six generations – and they’re still asked, ‘can you speak English?’ or ‘where are you from?' "says Thao.
“So you still have a legacy that Australia is white and the White Australia Policy was only officially dismantled in the 70s, so there is this sense of White Australia still existing and it will take incredible effort in order to shift that.”
Thao, who was selected as Australia’s Youth Representative to the United Nations in 2004, says her selection was “ironic” because many people didn't think of her as Australian. They would say things like, “we never would think you would be Australian” or “oh, you don’t look Australian”.
“I don’t know if I took it personally because it was just about their perception of Australia as a country. But it made me feel a sense of exclusion because you’re not legitimate in a sense; you’re not a real Australian,” says Thao.
She says it was also disappointing because “time isn’t a factor” in being considered Australian.
![]() |
Elaina Ou |
Elaina says she considers herself Australian even though she was born in China. She is more laid-back and easy-going, characteristics that she attributes to being Australian
For Danny Kwon, the issue of his cultural identity is a no-brainer – he’s Australian. Despite his Asian appearance, he says he grew up in Australia with Australian people and “at the end of the day I see myself as an Australian, not Korean."
In Dr Bartley’s research, he found most 1.5ers’ identities were oriented towards being Asian rather than New Zealander. He says the social distance these 1.5ers felt between themselves and other New Zealanders was attributed to them being Asian.
The Korean-American journalist, Connie Kang went as far as to say that Asians could never fit into Western society because of their appearance.
“I do not believe we Asians can assimilate…because of how we look,” writes Ms Kang in her autobiography. “The melting pot was possible for non-English-speaking Caucasians from Europe once the second generation spoke English like natives. But with us, it does not matter how long our ancestors have been here and how well we speak English. Even a fourth-generation Chinese-American whose grandparents came to San Francisco in the 1850s will still be considered a “foreigner” in America."
However, there are subjective notions of being perceived as different, according to Christina Ho, from the University of Technology, Sydney. Hence people of Asian background may not be regarded as so different in the future.
Perceptions are also contextual, says Ms Ho,whose research interests include migration and identity. She points out that while European migrants were considered to be almost "alien-looking" in the 1950s, nowadays they are not considered to be that different.
"Even though objectively Asians do look different, it is still quite subjective,” says Ms Ho.
“I think a lot of these things have a subjective symbolism that becomes more or less important in different times. Asians are always going to look physically different but what subjective symbolism that difference has can change quite dramatically."
But for the time being, many 1.5ers identify with the 'banana' analogy: 'white' on the inside, 'yellow' on the outside. This conflict between what's inner and what's outer can leave them feeling split between the two identities, 'stuck in between' their two cultural sensibilities.
Stuck in the middle: The ‘in-between’ generation
The 1.5 generation often feel pulled between their two cultures and many describe it as being “stuck in between” or “living in two worlds”.
Daniel Kim says it is like wearing two invisible hats – he puts on his “Australian hat” when he leaves the house then dons the “Korean hat” when he comes back home.
He says the two hats “represents all things Australian, all things Western – the politics, the jokes, the sports, the food, the mannerisms, the use of language, the dispelling of stereotypes.”
Thao also identifies with this idea of wearing hats in different cultural environments. “Sometimes you can’t coexist in both of these worlds simultaneously,” says Ms Nguyen.
“Like the Thao with her boyfriend is different to the Thao with her family. Thao with her Anglo-Saxon friends is different to Thao with her Cabramatta friends.
“And so you do wear different hats and sometimes it’s very, very conscious. I do that and that’s a normal function of daily life for me, it basically becomes normal,” says Thao.
“I think it’s the only thing that you can do in order for all these parts of your life to exist [together] without a lot of trouble. So I think this is a mechanism that you’re forced to adopt."
For some 1.5ers, like Daniel and Thao, moving back and forth between the two cultural worlds is easy. Over time, it has become a part of their lives and they have grown accustomed to it.
However, for others, it can be more difficult and confusing. Connie Kang described it as “mental gymnastics of moving back and forth between these often-conflicting two worlds.”
“My several lives were often incompatible, and I led a schizophrenic existence. I shut the door to one when I entered the other. Back and forth I traveled, sometimes within minutes of each other. At times I felt at home in all, and at other times I thought I belonged to none. Could I really find one world where my life’s many components – now separated by languages, culture, and sensibilities – could be integrated?” writes Kang in her autobiography.
It is not easy negotiating a stable identity that incorporates both Asian and Australian, agrees Dr Bartley. “It is a difficult journey to get there,” he says.
The question for the 1.5 generation is whether they want to attempt to reconcile the two worlds or shift primacy – of loyalty, belonging and identity – to one or the other.
Often this is difficult to negotiate because the 1.5ers find it difficult to feel a complete sense of belonging in any of the worlds they exist in. Whether it is in Australia, their ethnic community in Australia or their country of origin, they never seem to feel a total sense of belonging. Thao says when she is in Australia she feels more Vietnamese but in Vietnam she feels more Australian. And while she feels more attachement to the latter, "at the same time, it's not complete, it's not complete belonging anywhere," she says.
Sahny Van describes a 1.5er as being "someone that isn’t identified as a person from their country of residence nor their place of birth. Someone that is caught in-between cultures." Sahny says he is definitely a person of the 1.5 generation. "Anglo-Saxons don't see me as an Australian from my looks dispite my accent. But Australian-Asians don't see me as Vietnamese because I don't speak Vietnamese, have a strong [Australian] accent and have been here for over 20 years," he says.
However, Dr Bartley says the conflict between the 1.5ers' two worlds is not always necessarily cultural. It also includes intergenerational tension.
“Parents often want or need them to acculturate quickly in order to be cultural brokers,” says Dr Bartley.
In other words, the 1.5 generation, who learn to speak English proficiently, are relied upon to act as mediators between their parents or migrant communities with the broader Australian society.
Thao took on this role as mediator from a young age. She’d translate documents and talk to insurance companies for her parents. When she was six-years-old she even negotiated a car accident settlement on behalf of her mother.
At the age of 14, Thao also coordinated the Holy Trinity Committee at her younger brother’s school, and attended all of his parent-teacher nights.
She says the responsibility forced her to be independent and resourceful.
Elaina is also familiar with the process of being child mediator. From the age of eight, she helped run her parents’ business, a Chinese takeout/restaurant at The Oaks.
She dealt with everyone from customers and tradesman to the local council where she would go with her dad to renew their business licence. She says she was her parents’ “little translator” because they couldn’t speak English.
Dr Bartley says parents want their children to quickly acculturate so they can help out with family responsibilities but at the same time, they also want their children to not acculturate too quickly, and retain the values and practices of their origin culture.
This is when the intergenerational conflict manifests itself because the 1.5 generation often can not meet both demands. Their parents want them to become Australian in one sense, but at the same time, they don’t want them to become completely Australian.
It is also difficult for the parents who want their children to retain their origin's heritage but see them becoming 'too Australian'. This is the situation faced by the Chinese mothers in Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club when one of them says, "I wanted my children to have the best combinations: American circumstances and Chinese character. How could I know these two things do not mix?"
The 1.5ers would have to agree that the two things do not mix. They have to quickly become independent, resilient and resourceful in the Australian society but within the family home, they are expected be obedient, respectful and dutiful to their parents. These two sets of expectations often clash.
The 1.5ers may thus have more responsibilities but perhaps less rights than their Australian peers. Many 1.5ers have stricter impositions on things such as going out, staying out late and studying hard.
In particular, there is a great emphasis placed on studying and education by the parents of the 1.5ers. This is partly because many of the parents came to Australia seeking better opportunities for their children and partly because Asian Confucius culture places a high premium on education and learning.
Thao says her parents wanted her to study hard so she could “a) redeem them and b) not recycle their lives.” She says her parents worked incredibly hard so she and her siblings could have the opportunity to succeed.
However, Thao says a lot of the pressure was also self-imposed. She says 1.5ers have direct access to the sufferings of their parents as they witness them struggling in a new country. Thao say this had an impact on her and gave her the impetus to over-achieve.
Daniel's parents also expected him to do well and placed importance on education. However, Daniel says the parental expectation is fair.
His parents, who lived affluently in South Korea, gave up everything so their children could have better opportunities in Australia. “They’ve sacrificed and as a consequence they don’t want to see their sacrifice go to waste,” says Daniel.
But he does acknowledge that parents can go overboard. “Some parents go over the edge and that can do more harm than good, so it needs to be balanced,” says Daniel.
For 1.5ers the issue is often about finding this sense of balance between the many pulling forces in their lives, compromising their position between family and society, between the different worlds they inhabit.
According to Cuong Phu Le, the Asian-Australian Community Cultural Development Officer at the Casula Powerhouse Arts Centre, the way to create this balance is by creating a bridge between the two cultures or worlds.
Mr Le, who has initiated and curated a number of projects on 1.5 generation Vietnamese-Australians in Sydney, says the concept of the bridge is important in reconciling differences and building a harmonious balance between the two cultures.
Mr Le’s projects with the 1.5 generation aim to show how such bridges can be built. This has been done through the works of artists and writers, who show their own individual process of creating an equilibrium between two cultures through the metaphorical representation in their works.
For example, in the exhibition, In-Between 1.5 Generation Viet-Aust, Binh Truong made a short film featuring a girl who goes on a quest to find her true identity. The protagonist is symbolically named Hyphen and she is the creation of invitro fertilisation. Her search for identity is representative of the artist's own experience of yearning to know who she is because she is also made up of many components. The film concludes with Hyphen discovering that she is the product of two worlds (Alpha and Beta) and that is she the essence of the best characteristics from each world.
![]() |
Hyphen in Binh Truong's short film. Courtesy of Casula Powerhouse Arts Centre as part of the exhibition titled In-Between 1.5 Generation Viet-Aust, 2002. Image detail: Life in Hyphen (digital video still), dir. Binh Truong, dur. 10 min, 2002 (from the exhibition titled In-Between 1.5 Generation Viet-Aust, 2002) |
![]() |
Elaina with her family 1997 |
When Elaina went back to China for the first time in 1997 she experienced an unexpected culture shock. The air was polluted, the skies were a murky yellow colour and there were always so many people and traffic bustling about.
Elaina says she felt very Australian in China. This showed in subtle ways like how she and her two siblings couldn’t eat Chinese food every day because they grew sick of it, and they had to find a place that sold hamburgers
It also didn’t help when relatives kept commenting that the Ou children had become “so Australian”.
Elaina came back to Australia “feeling quite uncomfortable as to who I was, whether I was Australian or whether I was Chinese, whether I had to be one or the other. I also came back thinking, ‘I don’t exactly fit in over there but yet when I’m in Australia, I’m not Australian in the sense that I’m not Anglo-Saxon’…I found myself being more confused.”
When the 1.5 generation return to their country of origin, it often challenges the notions of their identity, says Dr Bartley. For some, it is realising how much they have adapted to their new country and how foreign their country of birth has become.
So for 1.5ers like Minh in “The Journey Home”, a return to their country of origin can affirm their Australian-ness.
Daniel says after his first trip to South Korea in 1996, it opened up a newfound interest and pride in his heritage.
He yearned to learn more about Korean culture, language and its people. So he started watching Korean dramas, which contain “the stereotypical Korean culture in a box” and began associating with more Korean peers at university.
“It was the realisation that deep down, I am still Korean,” says Daniel.
Similarly, Thao says a trip to Vietnam in 1999 helped her obtain a sense of peace about who she was.
She says growing up, she had always been told about a kind of “dream world”, a place where she had come from.
But Thao says she could never reach out to this “dream world” or confirm its existence, which made her feel like it was also a “ghost world”.
“But the ghost world is a part of you because you were brought up in this ghost world. You were brought up on the values of this ghost world, the images of this ghost world,” says Thao.
“And then when you go to that country, it’s realised, it’s real, it’s tangible. And so then a part of you gets validated, a part of you becomes tangible. All those things that you were brought up on – the values, how you see yourself, this and that – it becomes more cemented, it becomes more real because this world is real now it’s not just a ghost world anymore.
“So then the part of you that is dependent on all of these things, this upbringing and this ghost world, becomes validated and so you as a person can obtain a sense of peace,” says Thao.
The future of 1.5 generation Asian-Australians
The emergence of 1.5 generation Asian-Australians is a relatively recent phenomenon. This is because people of Asian background have only been able to migrate to Australia since 1974 when the White Australia Policy was formally abolished.
The 1.5 generation has statistically been counted as part of the first generation and in Australia they have not received much attention from academia or broader society.
But Dr Bartley says there needs to be more awareness and research on 1.5 generation Asian-Australians.
One of his key findings showed many 1.5 Asian-New Zealanders were reproducing transnational patterns like their parents, choosing to live overseas in their adult years. Dr Bartley wonders whether Australia could be experiencing similar migration patterns.
If 1.5 generation Asian-Australians opt to work and live overseas like their New Zealand counterparts, this could have significant implications for Australia’s discourses on migration, permanent settlement and loyalty, says Dr Bartley.
And if the 1.5ers are moving overseas then Australia could be losing a valuable resource.
“This is a generation of well-resourced, ambitious, motivated, multi-lingual, culturally-flexible entrepreneurs,” Dr Bartley says.
“They have a dual insider/outsider role in both communities and the 1.5 generation can critically reflect on both cultures. What they need is the opportunity to develop a sociological imagination”.
Thao is a good example of what Dr Bartley is describing.
She was selected as Australia’s representative to the UN because the skills that were required for the role were ones that she possessed having grown up as a 1.5 generation, bicultural person. For example, she is able to move fluidly in different and often challenging environments, interacts well with a diverse range of people and looks at things with broad perspective. She attributes these skills to her background.
![]() |
Thao at the UN, 2004 |
“You are brought up as a mediator, you are a cultural mediator,” says Thao. “And so you exist in an interface – you exist in the cultural interface and you exist as a cultural interface. And so that becomes a skill for you to negotiate diversity.”
Similarly, many other 1.5ers are able to acknowledge the skills they have developed as a bicultural person.
Elaina says her position has allowed her to be more flexible, open-minded and understanding of other people and other cultures. She is able to look at situations with two perspectives, which gives her more awareness, insight and balance.
Daniel compares the experiences of the 1.5ers to the life experiences obtained from traveling overseas.
He says when people travel overseas, they’re forced to live and breathe a different type of world to what they’re used to. Then when they return, they are able to draw upon their experiences of living in that different culture and apply what they’ve learned to their everyday lives.
“So you’ve got people who pay the money and take the time out of their life and look for that experience - I’ve been born into it. I’ve been given the opportunity to live in a foreign country and yet still grow up with this cultural heritage of being Korean,” says Daniel.
But it’s not just about what the 1.5 generation can gain. It’s also about what society can gain from the experiences and skills of this group.
Dr Bartley says the 1.5 generation also acts as a bridge between the Asian communities and mainstream Australian society.
“They can mediate between the two communities; they can model Australian values to their parents while modeling origin society values back to Australians,” he says.
Cuong Phu Le also says the 1.5ers are an important link between the first and second generations in their own ethnic communities.
![]() |
Cuong Phu Le |
“The 1.5 generation is the bridge between the first and second [generations],” says Mr Le. “Because without them, who’s going to bring out the Vietnamese culture in a way that is accessible to the second and third generations?”
But for the time being, the 1.5 generation just want to be recognised for who they are. Rather than feeling like non-citizens, lost in an abyss, they want a sense of belonging in a country they grew up in or the cultures they were raised in.
As Minh concluded in his story, "There are hundreds if not thousands like me, those 1.5 [Asian]-Australians, who have thrashed their way through this unbidden journey of self-discovery."
Perhaps it's time the coin flipped. Maybe Australia needs to reassess its own identity as the dynamics of its multicultural society continues to change and the definition of who is Australian becomes more fluid.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Police can't extradite Westpac runaways
Keep dreamin' Westpac, you won't get another cent back! lols
From Stuff
Rotorua's runaway millionaires continue to enjoy their ill-gotten fortune in Hong Kong and there is nothing New Zealand can do about it.
Leo Gao and Kara Hurring have proved crime pays after they skipped the country in May last year when Westpac mistakenly put $10 million into Mr Gao's account.
Mr Gao had asked for a $100,000 overdraft to shore up his ailing service station business in Rotorua. Westpac managed to recover all the money but $3.8 million.
Detective Senior Sergeant Mark Loper said today the inquiry was in a state of limbo with police unable to extradite the couple from China.
"We know roughly were they are, or at least one them," he said. "But we can't get past this point."
Mr Loper said since there was no extradition treaty between China and New Zealand, police were seeking the assistance of the Chinese authorities.
Police had sent two applications to China, the first seeking information on the couple, and the second requesting to interview them. Chinese authorities had turned down the latest request.
"What happens now? Nothing," Mr Loper said.
"We do have arrest warrants. We do have Interpol warrants, so that if they do go a country where we do have an extradition treaty, we can hopefully action those warrants."
Westpac attempted to recover its losses through the Hong Kong courts last year, bidding to recoup about $660,000 Mr Gao passed through a casino and resort operator Wynn International Marketing in nearby Macau.
The bank lost its case and had to pay the casino's legal bills, after court papers were served on an Asian bank, which froze the casino's entire account, not just the money sought by Westpac.
Thank Yu - Time Magazine article
Clearly something about his adopted home agrees with him. On his website, Ouyang quirkily ditches the more informative prefix Chinese and simply describes himself as an "Australian poet" (which he is, having been granted citizenship in 1998). But he also retains a strong sense of detachment. One of the reasons for his prolific output is his failure to secure a position in Australian academia, leaving him plenty of time for poetry, translations and the rest. "I look at the composition of teaching staff and laugh," he says acidly. "You can count the numbers of Chinese on a few fingers." And although he has no difficulties being heard, he warns that "every country has its restrictions." In Australia, he says, "you can be punished by not being published. Repression is not a Chinese monopoly."
Read the whole article: Thank Yu - Time Magazine
Australian of the Year Awards 2011
Nominations for the Australian of the Year Awards close on the 31st of August. But I only made this post so you can see the pamphlet (I thought it was a banner before I realised that was a thumb on the left hand side), which features Andy Minh Trieu, onya Andy!
Amongst the current nominations are Terence Tao and Kym Nguyen.
Australian of the Year Awards
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Know Your Asian Australians: Wesa Chau
For the first interview in this series, I caught up with Young Victorian of the Year Wesa Chau for an insight into her life and the causes she is passionate about.
What do you do?
I am currently employed at ADEC – Advocacy, Disability, Ethnicity, Community – a non-profit organisation empowering people with disability from ethnic communities. My role there is a Direct Services Manager to oversee client services, including advocacy, respite and group activities. I also sit on the board of Immigration Women Domestic Violence Service.
I was a founder for the Australian Federation of International Students (AFIS), and current Honorary President. Since 2002, AFIS has been working to help bridge the gap between international students and the wider Australian community. Through AFIS, I was invited to be a member on the Overseas Student Experience Taskforce in 2008, and is now also on the Board of Management of the Victorian International Education Industry Group.
As part of AFIS’ project, in 2004 we ran a project with the Student Youth Network (SYN) called Mirchi Sushi Crab, a platform for international students to voice their stories, concerns, enjoyments on radio, and through that learning and developing some new skills.
In recent years, I also help establish the Chinese Community Council of Australia Victoria Chapter, a peak advocacy body to represent the interest of the Chinese community in Victoria and to assist in raising awareness of Australian politics among people of Chinese descent.
A few years back, I was a Councillor of 3ZZZ Melbourne Ethnic Community Radio, the largest ethnic community station in Australia, helping to shape the station. I was also a presenter at the station for about 4 years on the Chinese language program.
Currently, I’m the Assistant Secretary and Youth Chair of the Ethnic Communities Council of Victoria, a peak body representing the interests of ethnic communities. In addition to that, I'm on the Board of Management of the Immigrant Women Domestic Violence Service.
Other organisations I’m involved in: North East Melbourne Chinese Association, University of Melbourne Alumni Association (Asia).
What made you go on this path?
Fate is the short answer. When I was studying at University, I never thought I would go down this path. I was studying Software Engineering and Commerce (combined degree) at the time, and naturally thinking of pursuing a career in businesses. I was at the time part of the Chinese Culture Society, and through that saw the struggles of international students and a group of us thought we can do something together to assist international students – at a time when no one was interested in international student issues. One thing then led to another and I'm now working in the community sector on a full time basis.
Are there any projects you are looking to get into in the future?
My interest is to determine ways to create a harmonious community through respect of diversity (in culture, religion etc…). Looking to get involved in projects that facilitate the cross-cultural communication. If we can get this right in Victoria, we can be a world leader on a global scale, to show the world that harmony can be achieved through working together.
Tell us about winning the Young Victorian of the Year award.
It is exciting to have people recognising the commitment to my work in the community.
What's your background?
I come from Hong Kong, migrated here in 1989.
What makes you laugh?
Lots! I laugh all the time. Laughing is a great way to relief stress for me.
What’s one thing you couldn’t live without?
Myself – I mean this in the sense that I couldn’t live without my integrity – to be true to myself.
What was the last book/movie that you read/saw?
Toy Story 3
What’s one thing about yourself most people wouldn’t know?
Practicing sound healing with crystal singing bowls. They’re a set of bowls made of quartz crystal that sings when you rub its rim. It is a form of energy healing. A great relaxing tool for me and others.
What do you think are the biggest issues facing Asian Australians?
Asian Australians need to start voicing our concerns a lot more. Currently not many are doing it, and sometimes could not get the ears of people who make decisions. Therefore we miss out.
What’s your favourite memory about growing up Asian in Australia?
Going to the music house every lunch time with a group of friends during high school. We started an all girls band at school and was very enjoyable!
What advice would you give to young Asian Australians at achieving their goals?
Never give up! If you don’t give up, there is still hope, if you also give up, the hope is gone. We need hope to achieve our dreams! There will always be challenges, dark times, sometimes even failures, and it is only through overcoming them you achieve.
You can find out more about ADEC here. Thank you Wesa for your time and for giving us the chance to know more about you.
Click here to read other interviews in the Know Your Asian Australians series
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)