Chinese Americans, Turkish Germans: Historical Parallels in Two Racial Systems By Paul Spickard



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Chinese Americans, Turkish Germans:

Historical Parallels in Two Racial Systems

By Paul Spickard

University of California, Santa Barbara, and

Westfälische Wilhelms-Universität Münster

German Studies Association

Arlington, Virginia

October 11, 2009


Not for citation without permission

The historical development of the social position of Turkish Germans from the 1960s to the 2000s bears a striking resemblance to the development of the position of Chinese Americans from the mid-19th century into the 20th. This paper explores comparative aspects of similarity and highlights certain salient differences.i

Both Chinese Americans and Turkish Germans came to their new countries initially as the shock troops of the industrial order. Both were temporary laborers recruited to do hard, dangerous, faceless, and not-very-well-paid work. Beginning in the 1850s, young men from South China were hired through ethnic Chinese recruiters to do body labor in the United States, digging in the mines for gold and copper, building the railroads that knit the country together, cutting down forests to make lumber and clear farmland, canning fish on the Northwest coast.ii Beginning in the latter 1960s and especially the 1970s, young men from Anatolia were hired through Turkish recruiters facilitated by both Turkish and German governments to do body labor, going down in the ground to dig for coal, working in steel factories, car assembly plants, and other industrial venues.iii

Initially both the Chinese and the Turkish young men who went abroad thought of themselves as sojourners – temporary laborers who intended to go out to work for a time, make some money, and then go back home where the capital they had acquired abroad would enable them to buy land or otherwise raise their family’s standard of living. Many in each group did just that, and it came to pass that, in villages across Anatolia and South China, there lived men who had made modest fortunes abroad and returned home to spend the remainder of their lives.iv

Some among both groups, Chinese and Turks, stayed on after their initial commitments and found other work. In the American West, Chinese formed the majority of the farm labor force in the latter decades of the 19th century. Chinese gang laborers filled in the mudflats around San Francisco. Others went into service work, in laundries and restaurants in cities and towns.v For Turks, some of those who stayed took apprenticeships and entered trades. Others opened small shops and restaurants, particularly the ubiquitous döner stands one finds in every German city and town.

Neither Chinese nor Turks were initially conceived of as candidates for membership in the host society. From the first citizenship law in 1790, the United States embraced a racial definition of national membership: in order to be naturalized, one had to be a “free white person.“ If a non-White person were born on US soil, then that person was entitled to US citizenship by the principle of jus soli, but non-White people could not apply for naturalization. Any child born to a citizen was entitled to citizenship, because the US also embraced the principle of jus sanguinis. There was a longstanding hierarchy among various kinds of White people, but the absolute bar to membership fell between Whites and non-Whites, and Chinese fell on the non-White side of that line – they were racially ineligible for naturalization.vi Until the second half of the 20th century, the United States failed to develop a language of immigration that included non-White peoples as potential members of the republic. Only during World War II, when alliance politics made the anti-Chinese bar embarrassing, did the United States change the rules to allow for Chinese people to become naturalized, and it was another generation before Chinese Americans were routinely regarded as normal members of American society.

It is equally true that the vast majority of ethnic Germans have never considered Turkish immigrants and their children as candidates for full membership in German society. Even more than the United States, Germany has been wedded to a notion of citizenship that is centered in the myth of the Volk. That myth is expressed in the music of Wagner, in the philosophy of Nietsche and Schopenhauer, in the founding documents of the German nation, in the ideology of National Socialism. The sense of Germany as a nation made up only of ethnic Germans is very strong. In the 1990s and 2000s, people whose ancestors moved from Friesland to the Ukraine long before there even was a German national government (and often from places that never became part of the German nation)vii were admitted into the country on a fast track for citizenship, on the grounds they were Aussiedler – evacuees who presumably were returning to their home from abroad in exigent circumstances. At the same time, Germany has developed no language of immigration. Chancellor Helmut Kohl famously declared that Germany is not a nation of immigration, no matter that declaration flew in the face of demographic reality. Germany has only very recently, haltingly, and with many bureaucratic impediments come to accept the possibility that non-ethnic-Germans might become German citizens, and there is still little social acceptance for such people, even if they be German-born.viii

Both Turkish Germans and Chinese Americans have had to survive anti-immigrant movements that directed discrimination against them and sometimes turned violent. The anti-Chinese movement that reached its height in the 1880s, but persisted as late as the 1990s, has been the subject of many studies. Highlights of the earlier period include the 1850 Foreign Miners Act that levied a tax on non-US and –European miners working in the California goldfields; it was directed against the Chinese. A White race riot broke out in Los Angeles in 1871 that killed twenty-one Chinese immigrants. San Francisco outlawed the queue, a uniquely Chinese hairstyle mandated by the Chinese government, in order to harass Chinese immigrants and to try to get them to go away. Anti-Chinese race riots rocked many western cities and towns during the 1880s, from Denver to Seattle to Rock Springs, Wyoming, where twenty-five Chinese working men died in a mob assault. In 1882, the US Congress passed (over a presidential veto) a law that effectively excluded all Chinese people except for a tiny upper-class fringe from entry into the United States.ix

Much less remarked thus far has been the campaign of rhetorical and physical attacks that has been launched against Turkish Germans and other immigrants, especially Muslims, in the last two decades. Some examples: In 1992, in Mölln in Schleswig-Holstein, people whom some called “right-wing extremists“ threw Molotov cocktails and killed two girls and their grandmother. The following year, in Solingen, arsonists firebombed a Turkish German house and killed two women and three girls. In 2005, in Ludwigshafen, arsonists set fire to an apartment house and killed nine people. Just this past summer, Marwa al-Sherbini, an Egyptian pharmacist, was stabbed to death in a Dresden courtroom while her family and court officials looked on, in an explicitly racist, anti-Muslim hate crime. No major German media outlet covered the story until some days later when huge anti-German demonstrations in Egypt attracted international attention.x

The propaganda of the American anti-Chinese movement had several distinctive themes. Chinese immigrants, it was said, were either incapable or unwilling to learn the English language. They were unable to assimilate culturally to American ways of living. They had ongoing ties to their homeland and did not intend to stay. They did not understand American values like democracy. They were dirty and brought disease. The then-current generation of American feminists focused especially on the status of Chinese women. The literature of the time (from the 1870s until the 1930s at least) depicted Chinese women as degraded people, forced into prostitution, the victims of Confucian patriarchy. It told tales of horror visited upon women in Chinatowns by Chinese gangsters. The widespread assumption that Chinese women all were oppressed and many were prostitutes was one of the primary justifications of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. On the other hand, Chinese American women could be rescued if heroic US feminists like San Francisco settlement house worker Donaldina Cameron came to their rescue.xi

The themes that surround the German anti-Turkish movement are not all that different. Turkish Germans, it is said, resist learning German, and they don’t learn it well when given the opportunity. They are culturally too different ever to fit into German society. In any case, they don’t intend to stay; if they did, they would shed their ongoing ties to their homeland, change their food and clothing, and speak perfect German. Turkish Germans, it is said, don’t understand core German values. They are unhygenic. In particular, there is a focus on Muslim women’s status by the current generation of German (and, for that matter, European and North American) feminists. There is a rich literature of women’s degradation as prisoners of Muslim patriarchy, tales of horror at forced marriages and honor killings – images that are very much at odds with the actual lives of most Turkish and other Muslim women in Germany. Every German publisher wants a book by Seyran Ates, Necla Kelek, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, or some clone calling on society to rescue Muslim women from themselves, their men, and their culture.xii

In both cases, the lives of second-generation, Western-born-and-raised Chinese Americans and Turkish Germans did not look very much like the anti-immigrant imagery. Yet both second generations were affected by that negative imagery nonetheless. For several decades, because of the tiny percentage of Chinese Americans who were women and the ban on Chinese immigration, the American-born generation also remained tiny. Gradually the numbers grew, but they did not begin to form a significant second generation until the decades after World War II. Chinese American young people grew up mainly in urban centers of the West (along with New York, Boston, and a few other eastern cities).

There they went to public schools. Frequently their places of residence in poor urban areas meant that they were limited to elementary education at inferior schools. Those schools generally made no provision for English language learning. When I attended such schools in the 1950s and 1960s, I was well aware that my teachers were not prepared to see academic competence in Chinese American children, even as they were quite prepared to see it in me, a White child, to lavish attention on me, and to set challenges before me so I would learn and grow. I ended up at Harvard while smarter Chinese American classmates had fewer opportunities.

American-born Chinese typically spoke some Chinese, although just as typically they had little more than a child’s vocabulary and spoke with a fairly heavy American accent. In each family, the younger children were more functional in English than in Chinese. Until the 1970s at least, Chinese Americans were pretty much limited to the ethnic enclave – Chinatown – for residence and jobs. Chinese Americans were discriminated against and ridiculed by White people in daily life without thought. And they remained forever foreigners in their native land, in the eyes of non-Chinese Americans. There is almost no Chinese American who has not heard, and often, a question sequence like this: “Where are you from?“ (Answer: Chicago) “No, where are you really from?“ The implication is that they are not Americans, but are really from a foreign place they may not ever have seen, based on their appearance and their ancestry.xiii

Second-generation Turkish Germans, too, attend public schools, and the ones they attend frequently do not track them for academic success. Most schools make little or no provision for bridging from Turkish-speaking home environments to the German-speaking school environment. Some dedicated teachers seek out gifted immigrant students, but most track them into Hauptschule, or at best Realschule, rather than to Gymnasium, and I have known several teachers who simply could not see academic excellence in a Turkish German face.

Most Turkish Germans have some fluency in Turkish, although the degree varies widely, and younger children in the family usually speak less Turkish than their older siblings. Even those who are pretty fluent often have at most a ten-year-old’s vocabulary and speak with a German accent. A lot of Turkish Germans, especially those without university qualifications, find themselves limited to ethnic enclaves like Kreuzberg, Wedding, or Marxloh for residence and economic opportunity. Turkish Germans are routinely discriminated against in daily life without thought. I have encountered not one Turkish German who has not experienced being treated with suspicion by store clerks, and nearly all the young men have been stopped by the police. Like Chinese Americans, Turkish Germans remain foreigners in the land of their birth, at least in the eyes of most other Germans. (“Where are you from?“ Bremen. “No, where are you really from?“)xiv

There is also a parallel between the experiences of these two groups in the way they have been portrayed in the movies. Early depictions of Chinese characters in American movies from the 1930s through the 1970s were pretty much racist nonsense, whether they be of the sinister criminal mastermind Dr. Fu Manchu scheming to destroy civilization; the clever but mysterious detective Charlie Chan sorting out murder and intrigue in Chinatown; or the goodtime girl Suzie Wong, the Asian woman as natural prostitute. Movie depictions only began to look like the actual lives of Chinese Americans in the 1990s, as the American-born generation finally came of age, with films like Wayne Wang’s Joy Luck Club.xv

By this measure, film depictions of Turkish Germans still languish in the first phase of sinister and degrading stereotypes. Even the much-praised movies of Fatih Akin, Auf der Anderen Seite (2002) and Gegen die Wand (2004), depict Turkish Germans and Turkey as exotic, foreign, and dangerous. They are full of crime, drugs, sex, violence, and dysfunction – perhaps because that’s the kind of depiction for which he can get money to make movies. One hopes it doesn’t take a couple of generations for film portrayals of Turkish Germans to begin to look like actual Turkish German lives.

I would like to note one encouraging recent move in fiction and life-writing. In 1950, right at the beginning of the growth of a big American-born Chinese generation, Jade Snow Wong wrote an autobiography, Fifth Chinese Daughter. It was a tale of assimilation and uplift, a young girl growing up in the all-Chinese world of her parents’ Chinatown home and going outside, to school and to play, and encountering America. Out of those two worlds – China and America, in Wong’s imagination – she fashioned a life and career that became a model of striving and inclusion for Chinese American girls. Actually, the world of Wong’s family was more blended than her depiction (her parents had already made several steps into American culture that Wong had a hard time perceiving), but she could not articulate that in-between-ness.xvi A 2009 book by Betül Licht, In Meiner Not rief ich die Eule, makes a similar move. Her character is depicted coming of age in a Turkish German world: “Unsere Wohnung war die Türkei—draußen vor der Tür began Deutschland.” Well, no. Inside any Turkish German house one finds not Turkey, but a blended culture of language, foods, objects, values, and manners. But the parallel between Licht’s story and Wong’s is a hopeful one.xvii

The generation of Chinese Americans that grew up reading Fifth Chinese Daughter came of age in the 1980s and 1990s. Two of its number – Gary Locke and Steven Chu – are now members of Barack Obama’s cabinet, the first Chinese Americans to occupy so high a public office. Does this mean that, in a generation perhaps, some younger version of Cem Özdemir may actually become a force in mainstream German political life? Germany, it seems to me, is not at that point yet, partly because the German public has not yet fashioned a language for conceiving of themselves as members of an immigration nation. But profoundly they are just that. At present, more than ten percent of Germany’s population are immigrants, and the largest number are Turks. Immigrants and their children together total over eighteen percent (the comparable American percentages are eleven and twenty percent). The task ahead, it seems to me, is for Germany to develop a way of thinking about its manifest, as-yet-unacknowledged, but probably permanent racial and ethnic multiplicity.



Notes

i I am grateful for the reactions to my thinking in this paper of several people, among them: Semra Sen, Bettina Hoffmann, Sadime Fahin, Annette Kroschewski, Luz Angélica Kirschner, Elisabeth Tuider, Josef Rabb, and Maria Herrera-Sobek. Of course there is a difference of time scale between the two groups’ experiences. The trajectory I am tracing for Chinese Americans took place over nearly a century and a half, while for Turkish Germans it has only been about forty years. But the crucial item – the formation of a second generation – was delayed for nearly a century in the Chinese American case on account of anti-Chinese immigration and citizenship laws. By contrast, the formation of a German-born Turkish generation occurred in quite short order. So the time scale difference is much less significant than it would appear at first glance.

Several people have suggested that an apt parallel exists between Turkish Germans and Mexican Americans. See also Thomas Faist, Social Citizenship for Whom? Young Turks in Germany and Mexican Americans in the United States (Aldershot, U.K.: Avebury, 1995). While I recognize certain elements of similarity between those groups, the social position of Mexican Americans historically has been more complex than that of either Chinese Americans or Turkish Germans. Some Mexican Americans are descendants of families that have lived in the American West since before there was a United States; others immigrated yesterday. Sometimes some Mexican Americans have asserted a claim to Whiteness (and therefore full citizenship); most of the time they have been relegated to social Brownness (and therefore a marginal position vis-a-vis membership in US society).



By comparison, the generational structures of Chinese Americans and Turkish Germans are very similar, as they both consist mainly of an immigrant generation and a single American- or German-born generation. Finally, the current US climate of public opinion fails to recognize that complexity, both historical and contemporary, and insists on casting Mexican Americans as a semi-permanent, alien underclass. I believe that highlighting a Mexican-Turkish parallel may have the effect of legitimizing similar racist attitudes toward Turkish Germans as those directed toward Mexican Americans; that is something I am writing specifically to undercut. There is plenty of racism directed toward Chinese Americans, to be sure, but over the last generation they have begun to find a place in the social life of the American middle class that parallels a possibility I see for Turkish Germans in Germany. For my views on Chinese American and Mexican American history, see Paul Spickard, Almost All Aliens: Immigration, Race, and Colonialism in American History and Identity (New York: Routledge, 2007).

ii Sources on early Chinese immigration and labor are many; here are a few: Gunther Barth, Bitter Strength: A History of the Chinese in the United States, 1850-1870 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1964); Susie Lan Cassel, ed., The Chinese in America: A History from Gold Mountain to the New Millennium (Walnut Creek, Calif.: AltaMira Press, 2002); Yong Chen, Chinese San Francisco, 1850-1943 (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2000); Mary Roberts Coolidge, Chinese Immigration (New York: Henry Holt, 1909; repr. Arno, 1969); Judy Yung, Gordon H. Chang, and Him Mark Lai, eds., Chinese American Voices: From the Gold Rush to the Present (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006).

iii  See, for example: Deniz Göktürk, David Gramling, and Anton Kaes, eds., Germany in Transit: Nation and Migration, 1955-2005 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007); Richard Alba, Peter Schmidt, and Martine Wasmer, eds., Germans or Foreigners? Attitudes toward Ethnic Minorities in Post-reunification Germany (New York: Palgrave, 2003); Rita Chin, The Guest Worker Question in Postwar Germany (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007); Rita Chin, Heide Feherenbach, Geoff Eley, and Atina Grossman, eds., After the Nazi Racial State: Difference and Democracy in Germany and Europe (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2009); Betigül Ercan Argun, Turkey in Germany: The Transnational Sphere of Deutschkei (New York: Routledge, 2003); David Horrocks and Eva Kolinsky, eds., Turkish Culture in Germany Today (Providence, R.I.: Berghahn, 1996); Ruth Mandel, Cosmopolitan Anxieties: Turkish challenges to Citizenship and Belonging in Germany (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2008); Zafer Senocak, Atlas of a Tropical Germany (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2002); Levent Soysal and Ayse Çaglar, eds., Forty Years of Turkish Migration to Germany: Issues, Reflections, and Futures, special issue of New Perspectives on Turkey, 28-29 (Spring-Fall 2003); Klaus Bade, ed., Auswanderer-Wanderarbeiter-Gastarbeiter: Bevölkerung, Arbeitsmarkt und Wanderung in Deutschland seit dem 19. Jahrhunderts (Ostfildern: Scripta, 1984); Karl-Heinz Meier-Braun, Deutschland, Einwanderungsland (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 2002); Karl-Heinz Meier-Braun, “Gastarbeiter” oder Einwanderer? (Berlin: Ullstein, 1980); Mark Terkessidis, Migranten (Hamburg: Rotbuch, 2000).

iv This has been true for most migration streams, although it runs counter to the myths common in American national memory. See, for example, Theodore Saloutos, They Remember America: The Story of the Repatriated Greek-Americans (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1956); Spickard, Almost All Aliens, 36-62, 94-106, 173-207.

v Sucheng Chan, This Bittersweet Soil: The Chinese in California Agriculture, 1860-1910 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986).

vi Matthew Frye Jacobson, Whiteness of a Different Color: European Immigrants and the Alchemy of Race (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1998); Tomás Almaguer, Racial Fault Lines: Athe Hitorical Origins of White Supremacy in California (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994); Paul Spickard, “What’s Critical about White Studies,“ in Racial Thinking in the United States, ed. Paul Spickard and G. Reginald Daniel (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 2004), 248-74; Time Wise, White Like Me (Brooklyn: Soft Skull Press, 2005).

vii Abraham Friesen, In Defense of Privilege: Russian Mennonites and the State Before and During World War I (Winnepeg: Kindred Productions, 2006).

viii William A. Barbieri, Jr., Ethics of Citizenship: Immigration Rights and Group Rights in Germany (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1998). My observations about the lack of social acceptance of immigrants and their children in German society are based on thirty-five interviews I conducted in 2008-09 in several north German cities with young adults who are children of immigrants.

ix Coolidge, Chinese Immigration; Elmer Clarence Sandmeyer, The Anti-Chinese Movement in California (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1973; orig. 1939); Stuart C. Miller, The Unwelcome Immigrant: The American Image of the Chinese, 1785-1882 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969); Alexander Saxton, The Indispensable Enemy: Labor and the Anti-Chinese Movement in California (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971); Jean Pfaelzer, Driven Out: The Forgotten War against Chinese Americans (New York: Random House, 2007); Charles J. McClain, In Search of Equality: The Chinese Struggle against Discrimination in Nineteenth-Century America (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994). As late as the 1990s, the Chinese American scientist Wen Ho Lee found himself imprisoned and charged with espionage on the flimsiest of grounds, essentially on account of his Chinese ancestry; Wen Ho Lee with Helen Zia, My Country Versus Me (New York: Hyperion, 2001).

x  Sources on the anti-Turkish movement in Germany include: Göztürk, et al., Germany in Transit; Uli Bielefeld, Das Eigene und das Fremde: Neuer Rassismus in der Alten Welt? (Hamburg: Junius, 1991, 1992, 1998); Manuela Bojadzijev, Die windige Internationale: Rassismus und Kämpfe der Migration (Münster: Westfälisches Dampfboot, 2008); Hannes Loh and Murat Güngör, Fear of a Kanak Planet: Hip Hop zwischen Weltkulturan und Nazi-Rap (St. Andrä-Wördern: Hannibal, 2002); Christine Morgenstern, Rassismus: Konturen einer Ideologie: Einwanderung im politischen Diskurs der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Hamburg: Argument Verlag, 2002); Jan Werner, Die Invasion der Armen: Asylanten und illegale Einwanderer (Mainz: Hase and Koehler, 1992); Günther Lachmann, Tödliche Toleranz: Die Muslime und unsere offene Gesellschaft (München: Pieper Verlag, 2006); Stefan Luft, Abschied von Multikulti: Weg aus der Integrationskrise (Augsburg: Resch-Verlag, 2006). Even people who are friendly to immigrants sometimes surrender to the anti-Turkish rhetoric in framing their responses; see, for example, Werner Schiffauer, Parallelgesellschaften (Bielefeld: transcript, 2008). On the al-Sharbini murder, see “Protestors Accuse Germany of Racism: Egyptian Fury at Dresden Murder,“ Spiegel Online International (July 7, 2009).

xi Mildred Crowl Martin, Chinatown’s Angry Angel: Athe Story of Donaldina Cameron (Palo Alto: Pacific Books, 1977); Huping Ling, Surviving on the Gold Mountain: A History of Chinese American Women and their Lives (Albany, N.Y.: SUNY Press, 1998); Ruthanne Lum McCunn, Thousand Pieces of Gold (San Francisco: Design Enterprises, 1981); George Anthony Peffer, If They Don’t Bring Their Women Here: Chinese Female Immigration Before Exclusion (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1999); Benson Tong, Unsubmissive Women: Chinese Prostitutes in Nineteenth-Century San Francisco (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1994); Judy Yung, Unbound Feet: A Social History of Chinese Women in San Francisco (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995).

xii See, for example: Mina Ahadi, Ich habe abgeschworen: Warum ich für die Freiheit und gegen den Islam kämpfe (München: Heyne, 2008); Seyran Ates, Große Reise ins Feuer: Die Geschichte einer deutschen Türken (Reinbek bei Hamburg: Rowholt Taschenbuch Verlag, 2007; Seyran Ates, Der Multikulti-Irrtum: Wie wir in Deutschland besser zusammenleben können (Berlin: Ullstein, 2007); Doris Glück, Mundtot: Ich war die Frau eines Gotteskriegers (Berlin: Ullstein Taschenbuch Verlag, 2004); Necla Kelek, Die Fremde Braut: Ein Bericht aus dem Inneren des türkischen Lebens in Deutschland (München: Goldmann, 2006). Ayaan Hirsi Ali is not German, but her books are very popular in Germany, including Mein Leben, meine Freiheit (Piper, 2007) and Ich klage an: Plädoyer für die Befreiung der muslimischen Frauen (Piper, 2009).

xiii Rose Hum Lee, The Chinese in the United States of America (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Perss, 1960); Victor G. and Brett deBary Nee, Longtime Californ’: A Documentary Study of an American Chinatown (New York: Pantheon, 1973); Lin Yutang, Chinatown Family (New York: John Day, 1948); Mia Tuan, Forever Foreigners of Honorary Whites? The Asian Ethnic Experience Today (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1998); Xiaojian Zhao, Remaking Chinese America: Immigration, Family, and Community, 1940-1965 (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 2002).

xiv H. Julia Eksner, Ghetto Ideologies, Youth Identities, and Stylized Turkish German: Turkish Youth in Berlin-Kreuzberg (Berlin: Lit Verlag, 2006); Ruth-Esther Geiger, Ihr seid Deutschland, wir auch: Junge Migranten erzählen (Frankfurt-am-Main, Suhrkamp, 2008); Konstantin Lajios, ed., Die zweite und dritte Ausländergeneration: Ihre Situation und Zukunft in der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (n.p.: , 1991); Norbert Gestring, Andrea Janssen, und Ayca Polat, Prozesse der Integration und Ausgrenzung: Türkische Migranten der zweiten Generation (Wiesbaden: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften, 2006); Mely Kiyak, 10 für Deutschland: Gespräche mit türkeistämmigen Abgeordneten (Hamburg: Edition Körber-Stiftung, 2007); Betül Licht, In meiner Not rief ichy die Eule: Eine junge Türkin in Deutschland (Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 2009); Karl Lajos, ed., Die zweite und tritte Ausländergeneration (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1991); Cem Özdemir, Ich bin Inländer: Ein anatolischer Schwabe im Bundestag (München: Deutsche Taschenbuch Verlag, 1997); Katrin Panier, Zu Hause ist, wo ich verliebt bin: Ausländische Jugendliche in Deutschland erzählen (n.p.: Schwarzkopf und Schwarzkopf, n.d.); Sven Sauter, Wir sind “Frankfurter Türken”: Adolezente Ablösungsprozesse in der deutschen Einwanderungsgesellschaft (Frankfurt-am-Main: Brandes und Apsel, 2000); Alois Weidacher, ed., In Deutschland zu Hause: Politische Orientierungen griechischer, italienischer, türkischer und deutswcher junger Erwachsener im Vergleich (Opladen: Leske und Budrich, 2000); Nilgün Tasman, Ich träume deutsch . . . und wache Türkisch auf: Eine Kindheit in zwei Welten (Freiburg: Herder, 2008); Mark Terkessidis, Die Banalität des Rassismus: Migranten zweiter Generation entwickeln eine neue Perspektive (Bielefeld: transcript Verlag, 2004).

xv Matthew Bernstein and Gaylyn Studlar, eds., Visions of the East: Orientalism in Film (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1997); Peter X. Feng, ed., Screening Asian Americans (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 2002); ssDarrell Y. Hamamoto, Monitored Peril: Asian Americans and the Politics of TV Representation (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1994); Robert G. Lee, Orientals: Asian Americans in Popular Culture (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1999); Jun Xing, Asian America Through the Lens (Walnut Creek, Calif.: AltaMira Press, 1998).

xvi Jade Snow Wong, Fifth Chinese Daughter (New York: Harper, 1950).

xvii Betül Licht, In Meiner Not rief ich die Eule (Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 2009); see also Nilgün Tasman, Ich träme deutsch…und wache türkisch auf: Eine Kindheit in zwei Welten (Freiburg: Herder, 2008).



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