Family History

"Lenore Chinn's color-coded gay images of herself in collage with that of her ancestors serve to unhinge stereotypes of Chinese femininity."

Kenseth Armstead

Lenore Chinn was born on June 20, 1949 at St. Francis Memorial Hospital in the edge of the Tenderloin. She was raised until the age of two at 20 Allen Street on the outskirts of Russian Hill near Filbert and Hyde in San Francisco. Her father, born and raised in San Francisco’s Chinatown, is a mathematician. Her mother was born and raised in Oakland’s Chinatown. Chinn has a younger brother. In 1951 the Chinn family move into San Francisco’s outer Richmond District, then an all-white, middle-class neighborhood, becoming the first family of Chinese American descent to live in the area.

This predominately white neighborhood gave Lenore a sense that the world was basically one color. She was surrounded by white America, drawing her conclusions of what a “normal” family was from her friends and neighbors. Her ideas of what was a normal American family were fragmented, switching between what she experienced at home, and what she observed in her neighborhood and schools. Her family was different, and she talks more of her exposure to the white culture:

“…"My parents' decision to leave the safety and familiarity of Chinatown led to experiences which were almost unprecedented for that era, and certainly were rare for Asian Americans. This path, forged by my father in pursuit of his professional goals as an educator and mathematician, opened the door to a new way of life. My younger brother and I grew up with a family model, which offered simultaneously a traditional Chinese cultural framework of community and family, along with the opportunity to embrace non-traditional and non-Asian ideas. In short, my life's journey became a cross-pollination of other world views." ¹

In my interviews with Chinn, I asked her about her experiences in the Richmond district, specifically if she had any realization of her physical differences from her classmates. Chinn responds:

“In all honesty I’m not certain I had such a cognizance of difference – at first. It seems odd but my early childhood, in which we lived amongst a sea of white people, was normal for our family. I had familial Asian contacts of course and was brought up with Asian, and specifically, Cantonese traditions and values. But this was greatly influenced by a predominantly white culture through the prevailing educational system, neighbors, American television, etc. In short, I grew up with a cross breeding of Western and Asian cultures, a fusion of sorts long before it became fashionable. This had both positive and negative affects, at once seeding conflicting feelings, allegiances and demands, yet expanding the scope of my interests, passions and horizons. My elementary schoolmates who became my friends included a handful of Chinese and Japanese Americans, and a little Jewish boy who lived around the corner from my family. Thus, I was introduced to a variety of other realities. Perhaps it was our differences that brought us together but this is how my cultural forays began.”

Chinn goes on to explain how she and her brother assimilated to their environment, following the example of her parents:

“I believe it was a natural course for our family to “assimilate” and adopt some of the values and expectations of our non-Asian neighbors. My family allowed me the freedom, to some extent, to learn and explore the different ways of other families, but instilled in us (my brother and myself) a strong sense of racial pride, adherence to cultural values, and observances of time-honored traditions. I went to American public schools in the morning and Chinese schools, for a time, afterwards. My parents, who were first-generation Chinese Americans, had already adopted some of the American fashions of the 1940s and learned to navigate in a world that, I would find in later adulthood, was not friendly to them."

Chinn's father took a great risk in his decision to move the family to a neighborhood that could possibley do more harm than good, considering the racism and post-war Asian antipathy. Chinn's father was more than a mathematician--he was an activist in silence. In his own way he was making a statement that he, and his family, were Americans. He quietly set aside his ethnicity to prove his allegiance and honor to his country, which was now the United States. But as Chinn points out, he never abandoned his heritage, making sure she and her brother were schooled in Asian traditions and ideology.

"In a way, I believe it was their own non-conformity of buying a home in an area then reserved for white Americans that laid the groundwork for our learning to fit in. Survival compels one not be too conspicuous I suppose, but we also, at least on the surface, offered a posture of least resistance. This was 1951 you must remember, and America’s anti-Asian sentiments following the end of World War II were firmly in place. It was a way for our family’s culture to adapt and to negotiate a place on our own terms. I do not recall that we had overt discussions about the gulf of differences we encountered. These were largely unspoken subjects, more learned through enculturation mixed with a layer of racial bias. My father was more oblique about his opinions than my mother regarding the many others around us. Even in the face of obvious racism, we learned to come from a position of strength. So while the forces of assimilation were quite virulent we were taught to stand our cultural ground, in our own way.”

In recent years, Chinn has been the caregiver of her aging father, and in this capacity has learned more of her family history in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Her grandfather was quite the colorful character, as Chinn describes:

"His father [Chinn's grandfather], who identified himself to INS as a merchant, was in fact a proprietor of gambling establishments in the Bay Area. You have to understand that in the late 19^th to early 20^th century, the opportunities for gainful employment in our community, and very likely, any community which was not the dominant culture, were very limited. In effect, he ran gambling houses."

"As a young person he[Chinn's father] had the opportunity of visiting the famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) Chinese nightclub, Forbidden City, the subject of filmmaker Arthur Dong. Many of his friends were entertainers and it was a very colorful part of Asian American history. Also, because my father was involved to some degree in the family business, he was able to describe how it operated and the obstacles they faced in keeping it alive."

Chinn's exposure to racism began at birth, even if she wasn't aware of it. Her grandfather and father both went against popular stereotypes, such as owning a laundry store or restaurant, and fought the abundant racism in subtle ways. This code of silence left their mark in Chinn, which can be seen in her art.

Chinn is now devoting most of her time to caring for her ailing father. I wondered how this new title of caregiver would influence her art, and her opinions. Chinn states that her father has not influenced her art directly, but she is unsure how this episode in her life will impact future pieces:

"Time will tell how my current experiences caring for my father will find their way onto my canvases. My focus and energy is so consumed with managing his affairs these days it has been quite difficult to maintain my own activities as an artist. I am constantly reminded of my own mortality, both through these challenges and caregiving for friends in the 1980s and 1990s, largely due to the impact of AIDS."