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Japanese-American basketball: constructing gender, ethnicity, and community

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Japanese-American basketball: constructing gender, ethnicity, and community

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JAPANESE-AMERICAN BASKETBALL:
CONSTRUCTING GENDER, ETHNICITY, AND COMMUNITY

by
Nicole A. Willms

A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE USC GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(SOCIOLOGY)

December 2010

Copyright 2010 Nicole A. Willms
ii
Acknowledgements
I am very grateful to everyone who offered invaluable help and guidance,
enabling me to complete my dissertation research and writing. I know that I could not
have done it without the enormous amounts of support I received from many generous
people.
Much appreciation goes out to the Japanese-American basketball community for
being so kind and open with me. It was a wonderful experience getting to know so many
of you, and I am truly honored by those who trusted me with your stories. I owe a special
debt of gratitude to the Tigers Youth Organization who provided one of my first contacts
with the J-Leagues and countless observation and interview opportunities. Thank you, as
well, to the Little Tokyo Service Center and all of the wonderful people on the San-Tai-
San planning committee who put up with my constant presence and incessant note-taking
over the course of three years. I would also like to acknowledge the Nisei Athletic Union
Board, the Southern California Women’s Athletic Union Board, and the Nikkei Games
tournament committee for all of their help. Finally, I would like to thank Jamie Hagiya
for inspiring this project and give appreciation to Jeff Murakami and Leland Saito for
helping to give it direction.
Professor Michael Messner has been a crucial source of insight and guidance. He
has been an amazing mentor to me since I arrived at graduate school and I feel honored to
have had him serve as the chair of my dissertation committee. He has been a driving
force throughout the dissertation process, listening to my ideas, reading through multiple
memos and drafts, always offering valuable guidance, and keeping me going with much-
needed encouragement.
iii
My committee members Professor Leland Saito and Professor Lon Kurashige
were both generous with their time and energy as they met with me throughout the
process and read early drafts of many of the chapters. Their insights and interest in my
research continue to be invaluable.
Special thanks are due to the Department of Sociology and the College of Letters,
Arts and Sciences at the University of Southern California. Their collegial support and
financial backing helped to make this project possible. In particular, the College
Graduate Merit Fellowship Award allowed me to take time off from teaching to pursue
my dissertation research and the Final Summer Dissertation Fellowship supplied the
resources to complete the project. Several people from the Sociology Department
continually supported me and helped me with the logistics of funding and other resources
including Graduate Director Pierrette Hondagneu-Sotelo and the department staff –
Amber Thomas, Lisa Rayburn-Parks, Melissa Hernandez, and Stachelle Overland.
This dissertation incorporates many ideas that have developed through
conversations with my fellow graduate students. I would like to acknowledge several
supportive friends and colleagues in particular: Edson Rodriguez, Evren Savci, James
McKeever, Kristen Barber, Lata Murti, Sarah Stohlman, and Suzel Bozada-Deas. These
individuals have continually inspired me and given constructive feedback that have
helped to make me a better scholar. Thank you also to former USC graduate students
turned accomplished professors Cheryl Cooky, Faye Wachs and Michelle Stewart-
Thomas for your friendship and guidance.
Many dear friends outside of academia influenced this project and offered moral
support along the way. I would like to acknowledge my middle-school turned life-long
iv
friends from Seattle who truly influenced my life and taught me a great deal about the
diversity of Asian-American experiences: Candice Wong, Li-Kuei Hung, and Sidney Hy.
These three as well as Dacia Christin, Temitayo Shajuyigbe, and Thuan Le also deserve
thanks for listening to me and cheering me on to the finish line.
I ultimately could not have finished writing the dissertation without my family.
My parents, Vicki and Ray Willms, offered moral support and invaluable childcare
assistance. My father deserves special acknowledgment for helping inspire my love of
sports, ultimately influencing my research path. Much appreciation goes out to my
brother, Derek Willms, who often gives me honest feedback. I am also indebted to my
husband, Steven Bingo, who listened to my ideas, gave love and support, and put in extra
hours around the house. Finally, a big thank you to my daughter, Celia Bingo, who was
gracious enough to take many well-timed, long naps and give sloppy kisses of
encouragement. I hope that someday she will have a chance to play in the J-Leagues.
v
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Acknowledgements ............................................................................................................. ii

List of Tables ..................................................................................................................... vi

List of Figures ................................................................................................................... vii

Abstract ............................................................................................................................ viii

CHAPTER ONE: Japanese-American Basketball: An Introduction .................................. 1

CHAPTER TWO: “A Common Denominator, A Common Connection”:
Basketball and Community Inclusion .................................................................. 66

CHAPTER THREE: “Little Dynamos”: Japanese-American Women as
Basketball Icons ................................................................................................. 138

CHAPTER FOUR: “You Play Basketball?”: Negotiating the Racialized
and Gendered Body ............................................................................................ 190

CHAPTER FIVE: Conclusion ........................................................................................ 246

References ....................................................................................................................... 263

Appendices
Appendix A: Interview Guide ............................................................................. 275
Appendix B: Survey ............................................................................................ 279
Appendix C: List of Interviewees and Survey Respondents .............................. 283

vi
List of Tables
Table 1 ............................................................................................................................ 158
Table 2 ............................................................................................................................ 159
Table 3 ............................................................................................................................ 160
Table 4 ............................................................................................................................ 163
Table 5 ............................................................................................................................ 283
Table 6 ............................................................................................................................ 285

vii
List of Figures
Figure 3 - 1: Community Organizations Linked by Basketball Leagues .......................... 70
Figure 3 - 2: SCWAU survey – Top three reasons for continuing to play
in the league ........................................................................................................ 103

viii
Abstract
This study explores the ways that an ethnic-based sports league organizes and
understands itself in the context of larger racial/ethnic and gender hegemonies in sport.
Using primarily qualitative data drawn from observations and interviews, augmented by
archival and survey research, I analyze the social construction of gender, ethnicity, and
community within Japanese-American basketball leagues and tournaments (“J-Leagues”)
in the Los Angeles area using a three-level theoretical framework that examines social
interactions, structural contexts, and cultural symbols. Japanese-American Basketball is
an institution with a unique gender regime that provides a space for and is supported by
cultural symbols and social interactions that differ from those typically found in
mainstream sports. The core reason for this alternate pattern in gender relations is the
importance of community-building for Japanese Americans. Girls and women in the
leagues are a necessary component of community-building–their active participation is an
important element for maintaining the expansiveness of the leagues. Successful women
connected to the J-Leagues also provide symbolic resources for the Japanese-American
community that help build ethnic solidarity and that are seen as comparable, if not
superior, to those offered by male counterparts. Within this milieu, female athleticism is
normalized, encouraged, supported and respected. Outside of the community, however,
girls and women often face different reactions.
The gender regime in the J-Leagues exists in the context of larger sociohistorical
circumstances. Early discriminatory laws and practices punctuated by the mass
incarceration of Japanese Americans during World War II created the settings, necessity,
and desire for a strong ethnic community. These same circumstances also served to
ix
erode elements of patriarchy within the Japanese-American family. These structures
influenced Japanese Americans to place a high value on institutions that promote
community and to be open to active participation by women (particularly when it serves
the goals of maintaining community). Furthermore, the enduring racialization of
Japanese Americans in the United States as “Asian” involves controlling images that
often portray women as small, weak, and feminine while also regarding them as foreign
and unassimilable. This study reveals the ways in which engagement with a physical and
all-American sport such as basketball contests both types of images. Participation by
either sex–and especially successful participation in mainstream environments–feeds this
counter-hegemonic project.

1
CHAPTER ONE: Japanese-American Basketball: An Introduction

When Jamie Hagiya enters the basketball game, there is no mistaking her on the
court. She’s kinetic, whether bringing the ball up the court, playing dizzyingly
distracting defense, or whisking off nothing-but-net three-point shots. Her hair, tied up in
a high, braided ponytail, tends to swing to the rhythm of her ever-moving feet. She’s
quick, penetrating and indefatigable; she is a joy to watch.
It was in the early winter of 2003 that I began attending women’s basketball
games at the University of Southern California and noticed Hagiya, then a freshman point
guard. Fairly quickly, I realized that I was not her only fan. In a fast-paced,
entertainment-saturated city, a college women’s basketball game in the middle of South
Central Los Angeles rarely draws a crowd. So, with audiences commonly of just a
couple hundred fans, it stood out that many of them – at least fifty on an average night –
were of Asian descent. Furthermore, perhaps not surprisingly, many of them were
obviously there for Hagiya, producing roaring cheers when she made a basket and
holding up signs with her name.
Soon after, the sociological imagination took hold and I began to wonder about
the circumstances that had created this top level player and the subsequent fan base that
seemed to revel in her every move. Admittedly, her Asian ancestry was a primary reason
why I was curious about her success and following. Although I had played basketball
with a few Asian Americans growing up in Seattle, I had observed very few Asian
Americans playing in the higher divisions of college basketball. However, I was even
more excited by the fans. As a diehard women’s basketball fan, I have often lamented
2
that many players and teams do not get the support they deserve. So, not only was I
intrigued by how this great basketball player had come to be, but also by how her fans
had come to support her in this way.
Little did I know that just by scratching the surface of Jamie Hagiya’s experience,
I would begin to learn the rich story of a community – a community united, in part, by the
game of basketball. Hagiya did not become a college player by happenstance, but as the
outgrowth of nearly 100 years of basketball in the Japanese-American communities of
California. She did not develop as purely an individual, but as the result of a
convergence of sociohistorical factors both unique to the Japanese-American community
and also happening in U.S. society. Moreover, Hagiya is not an exception to her culture,
as some stereotypes about Asian Americans might suggest, but the direct result of its
practice.
So, with a bit more research and planning, I launched into over two years of
multi-method research conducted from early 2007 to the summer of 2009. While
conducting observations, interviews, a survey, and archival research, I kept several
questions in mind: What may be distinctive about an ethnic community that would make
respect and support of female athletes possible? What are the patterns in a sport
institution that create greater opportunities for girls and women to play, while facilitating
respect and esteem for the female players? How did these patterns develop and how are
they sustained? Within the Japanese-American community, how do participants make
sense of girls’ and women’s involvement and the success of several female players?
Finally, how do the players understand their own experience as Japanese-American
basketball players?
3
This chapter will provide a window into my research project on Japanese-
American basketball in Southern California. I will introduce my arguments and help
establish the tools and vocabulary to help navigate the dissertation and the world of
Japanese-American basketball leagues and tournaments (hereafter “J-Leagues”). The
chapter includes a brief history of the Japanese Americans in the United States, focusing
on the factors that may have influenced the social patterns observed within the J-Leagues.
This history also consists of a thorough description of sports within the community with a
detailed section on basketball. Following this, I lay out my analytical frame and
theoretical perspectives, through which I engage with a wide range of literature. In the
methodology section, I describe my reflections as a researcher and detail my methods and
research frames. Finally, I give a preview of the three empirical chapters.

A Unique Regime
In this dissertation, I argue that the Japanese-American Basketball Leagues (“J-
Leagues”) are a sport institution with a unique gender regime (Connell 2002) that provide
a space for, as well as being supported by, cultural symbols and social interactions that
differ from those typically found in the mainstream
1
. The core reason for this alternate
pattern in gender relations is the importance of community-building for Japanese
Americans. Girls and women in the leagues are a necessary component of community-
building – their active participation is an important element for maintaining the
expansiveness of the leagues. Successful women connected to the J-Leagues also
provide “symbolic resources” (Messner 2002) for the Japanese-American community that

1
I am defining “mainstream” contexts as spaces that have no explicit affiliation with a particular group or
identity, but that tend to reflect dominant value-systems and preserve race, class, and gender hierarchies.
4
help build ethnic solidarity and that are seen as comparable, if not superior, to those
offered by male counterparts. Within this milieu, female athleticism is normalized,
encouraged, supported and respected. Women’s participation is seen as typical, even
expected, and both men and women respect women’s skills and knowledge in basketball.
In interactions within the community, girls and women feel as if their basketball identity
is fully supported, whereas outside of the community, girls and women often face
different reactions.
The gender regime in the J-Leagues exists in the context of larger sociohistorical
circumstances. Early discriminatory laws and practices punctuated by the mass
incarceration of Japanese Americans during World War II created the settings, necessity,
and desire for a strong ethnic community (Fugita and O’Brien 1991). These same
circumstances also served to erode elements of patriarchy within the Japanese-American
family (Glenn 1986). These structures influenced Japanese Americans to place a high
value on institutions that promote community and to be open to active participation by
women (particularly when it serves the goals of maintaining community). Furthermore,
the enduring racialization of Japanese Americans in the United States as “Asian” involves
controlling images that often portray them as small, weak, and feminine while also
regarding them as foreign and unassimilable (Espiritu 2000; Kim 1999). Engagement
with a physical and all-American sport such as basketball makes possible a repudiation of
both types of images. Participation by either sex – and especially successful participation
in mainstream environments – feeds this counter-hegemonic project.
5
Place Matters
I use the term “community” or “communities” throughout this project to
emphasize the importance of interactions and shared practices that occur among many
Japanese Americans, particularly those in more dense concentrations along the West
Coast, such as in the Los Angeles area. For many Japanese Americans, ethnicity is
something that is actively “done” and not just an identifying marker. They belong to
ethnic-based organizations at a rate only matched in the United States by Jewish
Americans (Fugita and O’Brien 1991). Therefore, place matters. “Ethnic community
connotes a nested geography of populations,” but the geographical boundaries can be as
broad as the United States or as particular as an ethnic enclave (Kurashige 2002, xv).
With Japanese Americans, the ethnic enclave no longer exists. “The internment of
Japanese Americans during World War II shattered the spatial communities they had
occupied in urban and rural areas” (Vo and Bonus 2002, 7). However, many Japanese
Americans practice community in a way that necessitates at least some geographical
proximity. The greater Los Angeles area, still the largest concentration of Japanese
Americans on the mainland, is the place where Japanese-American community most
vibrantly happens. Although Los Angeles has been a hub for Japanese Americans since
their early immigration, “the significance of Los Angeles grew after World War II. As
farmers migrated to cities and residents in Hawaii increasingly moved to the mainland,
the urban pattern of Los Angeles became the unquestioned norm of Japanese American
life” (Kurashige 2002, xvi).
6
Early History – Settings, Necessity, and Desire for a Strong Ethnic Community
The simple story is, our Issei
2
grandparents came here, and they were
basically discriminated against up and down and told, “You can’t do this.
You can’t become naturalized citizens. You can’t own land.” So they
said, “OK, my children are gonna have a better life.” So my grandfather
sent all his kids to college. And then my dad majored in political science
at UCLA, but he couldn’t get a job doing anything and ended up working
for the post office, and he sent all his children to college, and he said,
“My kids are gonna have it better than me.” (Mitch
3
)
Japanese Americans have had a history of state-sanctioned discrimination in the
United States (Daniels 1974). Until after World War II, Japanese Americans were not
permitted to become naturalized citizens and Japanese Americans are the only group to
have experienced “wholesale incarceration because of their ethnic background” (Fugita
and O’Brien 1991, 30). Additionally, prior to World War II, they were excluded from
employment in most occupations within the private and public sectors. In response,
Japanese Americans formed “a parallel community” (Fugita and O’Brien 1991, 30),
creating their own interconnected economy and social life. An important piece of this
strategy involved establishing voluntary associations (often based on models in Japan)
that helped to support their communities through the times of exclusion. The Nisei
4

2
Issei = First generation Japanese American.

3
When only a first name is provided, this is a pseudonym used to protect the privacy of the individual.
When full names are provided, followed by just the last name, this indicates a public figure who agreed to
the use of their name (all public figures were also given a pseudonym used at my discretion).

4
Nisei = Second generation Japanese American.
7
generation formed organizations that mirrored those in mainstream society, such as
basketball and baseball teams and leagues (Fugita and O’Brien 1991).
During World War II, the experience of the concentration camps affected every
aspect of Japanese Americans’ lives. Although evacuation irrevocably damaged many of
the businesses and economic networks, in the post-war period many Japanese Americans
sought each other out and attempted to rebuild aspects of the pre-war community. (Fugita
and O’Brien 1991) In addition, the incarceration became a “unique shared event” (31)
providing an even deeper connection among Japanese Americans.

Early History – Erosion of Patriarchal Families
Although a few Japanese women arrived in the United States decades earlier as
scholars or with their families, the majority of their immigration took place between 1908
(after the Gentlemen’s Agreement
5
) and 1920, when immigration from Japan was all but
cut off (Nakano 1990). During this period, wives reunited with their husbands and
women arrived as “picture brides” (wives selected by a matchmaker in Japan solely using
descriptions and photographs) for the Japanese men who had already migrated (Daniels
1974; Glenn 1986).
The socioeconomic position of early Japanese-American immigrants necessitated
the use of female labor. During these early years of settlement, discrimination severely
limited opportunities for economic mobility (Daniels 1974: Ichioka 1988). Families had

5
The Gentlemen’s Agreement severely limited immigration from Japan through a series of informal
accords between the Japanese and U.S. government. The U.S. government negotiated these accords under
pressure from anti-Japanese/anti-immigrant factions. However, the compromise permitted the immigration
of wives and families, creating a wave of female immigration, including many “picture brides.” (Daniels
1974).
8
to survive as a unit. As such, wives and daughters engaged in labor (both in family
businesses and in the public domain) and contributed to the family income. Issei families
were very patriarchal, but women could gain influence due to their economic
contributions (Glenn 1986; Nakano 1990). These arrangements were often in contrast to
those of their white counterparts. In terms of gainful employment, 1920s data show that
25.9% of Japanese-American women were gainfully employed compared with 19.5% of
European American women. (For comparison, 38.9% of African American women were
gainfully employed). Among married women, 18.5% of Japanese Americans found
gainful employment while only 6.5% of European Americans did. (Census 1920). When
working in a family business, Japanese-American women may have also participated in
more labor than white women. For example, white farmers in California, most likely
resentful of Japanese American success, complained about the practices of Japanese-
American farmers, including their use of female labor. In one specific incident in 1919,
the Los Angeles Japanese Association heard grievances from local white farmers,
including objections to Japanese Americans working on Sundays and using their wives as
labor (Scherer 1916 as cited in Modell 1977). In an effort to appease their neighbors, the
Central Japanese Association later agreed to prohibit women from working on Sundays
and to lessen women’s overall hours (Modell 1977). As with most women from
marginalized groups, women’s labor played a crucial role in the survival of the family
therefore heightening women’s status and introducing them to roles thought by many
whites to be distasteful for women.
The incarceration of Japanese Americans during World War II also played a
significant role in destabilizing traditional relations of power. Forced to abandon jobs,
9
businesses and farms, Japanese-American men during this time could no longer hold the
role of “breadwinner” and many lost the ability to pass along a business or farm to their
sons. At the same time, many wives experienced some relief from family duties due to
communal meals and activities, allowing them more autonomy. The camps also had the
effect of eroding parental authority, allowing daughters a new degree of independence.
The adult women in camps found new work opportunities and some equality in wages,
further elevating the status of women (Espiritu 2000; Nakano 1990; Regalado 2000;
Weglyn 1976).
After World War II, socioeconomic changes led to improvements in race relations
and access to higher paying jobs. Japanese-American women were able to take
advantage of these growing opportunities, and by 1960, 47% were in the labor force.
Nisei women began to enter into professional positions (Espiritu 2000; Glenn 1986).

Japanese Americans and Sport
Japanese immigration to the United States began in the late 19
th
Century, known
as the Meiji Period in Japan. Before this period, there is some evidence that women in
Japan occasionally participated in male dominated sports and may have been accepted
practitioners in certain types of martial arts (particularly Judo). However, the Meiji era
marked a period where Japan sought to “modernize” in the image of the Western World.
Japanese educators traveled abroad and brought back knowledge of sports and physical
education, including notions about the appropriate inclusion of girls and women
(Kietlinski 2008). The opportunities for women to participate in athletic training in Japan
were most likely rare and limited to higher socioeconomic classes. Still, one American
10
writer observed a sufficient amount of it to write a book on the topic, boasting that Japan
participated in “the kind of athletic work that has resulted, undoubtedly, in making the
little Japanese women the strongest and most cheerful members of their sex to be found
anywhere on earth” (Hancock 1904 as cited in Kietlinski 2008).
One of the few Japanese women sent to the United States as a scholar, Inokuchi
Akuri studied at Smith starting in 1899 with Senda Berenson, the physical education
professor that, around this same time, first introduced women to the sport of basketball.
Despite the connection, Inokuchi appears to have focused her studies on gymnastics and
physical education in general. When she returned to Japan, she was highly influential,
teaching at the Tokyo Women’s Normal School and establishing a physical education
department there (Kietlinski 2008). This adoption in the late 1800s and early 1900s of
physical training for girls and women in Japan may have influenced the Japanese men
and women who migrated to the United States in subsequent years to be more open to the
idea of athletics for women. Although a common refrain among Nisei is that their
parents were often “too busy working” to concern themselves with sports, the
experiences the Issei had in Japan may have contributed to the openness many appeared
to demonstrate towards their sons and daughters engaging in sport in the United States,
not to mention their own enthusiasm towards sports and recreation (Regalado 2000).
Upon arrival to the U.S., early Japanese immigrants faced a great deal of racism
and built businesses and community institutions to support themselves through these
hardships (Daniels 1974). The organization of community sports leagues became one
aspect of this support-system (Fugita and O’Brien 1991; Niiya 2000). Issei men were
most involved in sumo and baseball, the latter brought to Japan by Americans in the late
11
1800s. However, the American context shifted many of the practices of these sports and
also led to the introduction of new sports, such as basketball (Niiya 2000). There is little
to no record of Issei women engaging in organized sports, but they did participate in
organizations that would later provide a foundation for their sons and daughters to
become involved (Regalado 2000).
The Japanese immigrants also arrived in the United States right during a time of
surging interest in athletics and, concurrently, around the time of the Playground
Movement. The Playground Movement began in 1906 as a way to keep urban youth
away from crime and other types of deviance and also to assimilate immigrants (Cahn
1994). These two goals seem to have been foremost in Los Angeles teacher Nellie
Oliver’s’ mind when, in 1917, she started an athletic club, “The Olivers,” for local
Japanese-American youth. The club offered baseball, football, basketball, as well as
other sports and some non-athletic activities. (Niiya 2000; Waugh 1978). Another major
player in the athletic movement was the YMCA. In Southern California, a Japanese “Y”
was “built by the Central Y.W.C.A., with some financial backing from grateful Issei
parents” (Costa, Adair, and Jackson 1991, 39).
By the late 1920s, the Japanese Americans began forming their own athletic
organizations and leagues (Niiya 2000). This time period was significant for the
development of Japanese-American sports, particularly in Southern California, because it
reflected a growing Nisei population, the children of the Japanese immigrants (Waugh
1978). According to historian Samuel O. Regalado, “The 1930s represented the Golden
Age of sport for all Japanese Americans as activities such as baseball, basketball, football
enjoyed great popularity” (2000, 433).
12
As the Japanese-American population in Los Angeles grew, it also expanded to
areas outside of Little Tokyo. This led to the creation of athletic clubs and teams that
represented each new neighborhood or region where a significant number of Nisei were
living. The Japanese Athletic Union (JAU), formed in the early 1930s, helped to
organize the competition between these different groups (Waugh 1978). Teams from the
Olivers played in the JAU leagues in several sports against the Golden Bears and the
Cougars (both Boyle Heights teams), the Shamrocks from Seinan (West 36
th
Street
District), the Wanjis (from the Nishi Hongwanji, a prominent Little Tokyo Buddhist
Church) and the Okayama Jrs. (children of the Okayama Kenjikai, a type of “hometown”
or “home prefecture” association) (Jenks 2008; Waugh 1978). Athletic organizations
also sprung up in areas all along the West Coast, in Hawaii, and in other areas with
significant Japanese-American populations. However, Southern California was clearly a
major hub of athletic activity. By one estimate, there were at least 400 Nisei athletic
clubs in Southern California in 1938 (Niiya 2000; Waugh 1978).
The relocation of 120,000 West Coast Japanese Americans during World War II
disrupted the growth of the popular leagues along the coast, but Japanese Americans
continued to play within the detention centers and concentration camps. Sports were an
important part of life at the camps. Japanese-American teams played amongst
themselves within the camps – the camps were separated into “blocks” and teams formed
within each block – and also against local high schools and Native American teams. At
the temporary detention center in Merced, California in 1942 there were leagues for boys’
baseball, girls’ volleyball, girls’ softball league, men’s and women’s basketball, and
sumo (Franks 2000). At Manzanar, photographer Ansel Adams captured Japanese
13
Americans playing football, baseball, and volleyball. At Topaz, the newspaper reported
in 1943 that a block council had requested twelve baseball fields and a gymnasium to be
built at the site (Regalado 2000). Different camps favored different sports depending on
the residents and the facilities (Niiya 2000). The men of the camp tended to be the
organizers of the sport leagues, but girls and women were readily included and covered in
the camp newsletters and newspapers. The Manzanar newspaper, the Free Press,
encouraged male readers to attend women’s softball games to check out potential mates.
Occasionally, older men’s teams played against top women’s teams. (Regalado 2000).
Outside of the camps, the famous 442
nd
Regiment played a variety of sports including
basketball against other service teams (Franks 2000).
Near the end of the war, the United States government issued a document
detailing the organizations present in West Coast Japanese-American communities prior
to the start of World War II. The tenor of the document reveals insecurity about the
perceived cliquishness of Japanese Americans. “There is no better illustration of their
highly integrated social life than the fact that there existed prior to Pearl Harbor more
than 3,500 Japanese organizations within the United States.” On the list are numerous
clubs, schools and associations for fishing/angling, kendo, judo, tennis, baseball and
several other umbrella athletic groups including the Women’s Athletic Association
(United States 1944).
After the War, sports like kendo and sumo that had stronger associations with
Japan faded out in favor of baseball, basketball, bowling and golf. This reflected an
effort to shed connections to Japan, fearing that these connections may encourage further
14
persecution by the government and its citizens. These sports also, Niiya (2000) argues,
represented aspects of the American Dream to which many Japanese Americans aspired.

Basketball
“We want to stay in touch with our heritage and even though basketball
wasn’t a part of our ancestral past, for many of us, it’s a part of who we
are.” (Heather)

As early as 1916, there were pockets of Japanese-American men’s participation in
basketball. In that year, a Japanese-American team called the Spartans played in a San
Francisco basketball league. In the 1920s, the Japanese Club at Stanford played in the
school’s intramural leagues. By the early 1930s, basketball appears to have been a staple
in Japanese-American communities, with teams emerging out of YMCA organizations,
Japanese American Citizen’s Leagues (JACL), and churches (both Christian and
Buddhist). The churches seem to have been very supportive of launching women’s teams
during this era, as well. For example, the Young Women’s Buddhist Association in
Stockton, California had a team called the “Busy Bees” from 1928 to 1940 (Franks
2000).
Beth, a longtime SCWAU board member, described her experiences playing for
her Buddhist temple as a teenager in the late 1930s in San Jose, California:
It was an activity of the Buddhist temple. We had teams up there. We had
a league, so we traveled from city to city and had competition, games … it
was all among friends … We all went to the same temple. The team was
composed of members of the temple. We all went to school together. It
was a rather close group … In those early years, the temple was the main
15
social place. We did have a gymnasium, so it was a place where we all
got together. My brother was actively – my brother was a good athlete. I
wasn’t. I tried, but I was just one of those that tagged along and played.
We used to compete with teams around the area … they were mostly
Buddhist temple teams.

Beth is a Nisei. Her father also was involved in sports:
My father loved sports. He was involved with the community trying to get
things – I think he was involved with a baseball team in the early – in the
late ‘20s, I think he was involved with a baseball team in San José …
Baseball was his favorite sport. He was – actually, baseball is what he
was most involved with, because by the time we were playing basketball,
it was just us kids playing basketball. But then he enjoyed going to the
games.

Beth also described how women’s basketball was played in a different format in these
times:
Yeah, [laughs] like, a long time ago, the girls used to play three courts, it
was divided into three. You had your forward and your center and your
guards … I remember playing – was I playing three courts? We used to
play half-half, forwards on one side, guards on one side. I remember
playing that way. I think – was I playing when we had three divided? I
might have been. But I know it was that way at one time.

Beth gives us a unique view of an Issei, her father, who found time to participate in a
sport, baseball, and who also enjoyed watching his children play basketball. Beth’s
participation through her Buddhist Church appears to be very typical of the time as was
the format of the women’s game: split court
6
.
Japanese-American leagues began to form outside of and in conjunction with
church teams and leagues. In Northern California, Japanese Americans formed the
Japanese American Athletic Union (JAAU) in 1929. A basketball division began in 1931

6
Early women’s basketball often included rules intended to prevent overexertion due to perceptions of
female frailty. In this vein, the court was split into segments and the players prevented from crossing from
one area to the next. In the 1930s, the game switched from a three-court format to a two-court format. In
the late 1960s to early 1970s, the game format gradually changed to the full court version we know today.
(McElwain, 2004; Theberge, 1989).
16
with nine teams. In Southern California, Japanese Americans formed a parallel
organization, the Southern California Japanese Athletic Union (SCJAU), in 1933. The
two leagues began playing a North-South championship game in 1934 and continued
until 1942. (Fong 1973; NCNAU). There were also a Women’s Athletic Association
(WAA) and a Women’s Athletic Union (WAU) (The Studio for Southern California
History 2009). The WAU emerged from Nisei women playing at the Japanese “Y”. The
women originally called their league the Southern California Women’s Basketball
League. The following year, this became the WAU and fielded 18 teams in two
divisions. (Costa, Adair, and Jackson 1991).
A handful of men played for colleges during this pre-World War II period – Fred
Koba for Stanford in the 1920s, Ted Obashi for the University of California in the early
1930s. Japanese names could also be found on high school team rosters all along the
West Coast (Franks 2000).
WWII. Basketball rivaled baseball for popularity among youth in the detention
and concentration camps. At the assembly center in Stockton, California, the center’s
newspaper, El Joaquin, covered the popular “Busy Bees” (Regalado 2000). Although
softball was probably the most popular sport for women, “had there been better facilities
to accommodate indoor sport, female basketball clubs, based on its prewar popularity,
would have rivaled softball for attention” (439). As with other sports, basketball teams
played each other within the camps, but also faced outside competition against local high
schools and Native American teams (Franks 2000).
Post War 1946-1968. After the war, Japanese-American communities began to
rebuild on the West Coast and gradually brought basketball back to its earlier glory and
17
beyond. Niiya (2000) points to the growing urbanization of Japanese Americans in the
post-War era as a key reason why basketball thrived in the major cities where Japanese
Americans resettled after the camps. In 1949, for example, Japanese American War
Veterans in San Francisco fielded a team to play a Chinese American team (and the
famous Willie “Woo Woo”). A newly formed Young Buddhist Association in Stockton,
California revived the “Busy Bees” (Franks 2000). From 1947-1967 in San Francisco,
girls’ basketball was a quite popular social activity (Kawahara 2000). One team, the
Arbees, was sponsored by the Japantown Buchanan Street YWCA, where they held
practices, and played its games at the San Francisco Buddhist Church gym, Hamilton
Center, and Booker T Washington Community Center. In 1948, the Arbees became part
of a nine-team league, “probably the first [post-War] non-church/non-Japanese
Association basketball league for Nisei girls” (176-77). Former JAU members helped to
restart the men’s league, newly named the Northern California Nisei Athletic Union and
received sponsorship from The Nichi Bei Times and the Japanese American Citizens
League (JACL) (Fong 1973; NCNAU).
In Southern California in 1946, Akira “Aki” Komai reestablished one of principal
Los Angeles Japanese-American newspapers, the Rafu Shimpo. Soon after, looking for
some positive news to print, he and friends would also revive the Los Angeles area men’s
basketball league. Before World War II, the newspaper had been active in covering the
Japanese Athletic Union (JAU). When the league returned in 1946, they renamed it the
Nisei Athletic Union (NAU). The board of the league met at the Rafu Shimpo offices,
and the paper began covering the details of each game using a special short-hand system
developed by Komai. (Komai 2000; Interview with current NAU board). As Japanese
18
Americans became more established, they were able to put more money into the league
and find more gymnasiums for use. Accordingly, the participation grew and permitted
the growth of more divisions, so that not just the elite players participated (Komai 2000).
The North-South championships resumed.
For girls and women during the post-war period, the churches were again a
primary source of competition. Ed Takahashi, one of the men responsible for expanding
teams and leagues for girls and women in Los Angeles in the late 1960s, spoke about this
earlier period in Japanese-American women’s basketball:
Before the girls’ sports program or SCWAU got formed, there was a
program called Buddhist Churches of American. BCA was in various
temples that belonged to a certain religious sect that had basketball
tournaments. So, they would have these basketball tournaments in
Northern California, Southern California, and Central California … I think
in the late ‘50s, until SCWAU got started in the late ‘60s, there was a gap
in terms of playing independent of any Christian or Buddhist league, but
there was always the Buddhist Churches of America program.

This post-war era also included men’s participation in high school, college, and
even professional basketball. In the late 1940s, Wataru “Wat” Misaka played for the
University of Utah and later for the New York Knicks (Franks 2000). He is said to be the
first non-white player in the NBA. Kaz Shinzato played for USC from 1955-1960.
Recent History: 1968 to the present. The end of the 1970s marked the peak of
participation in the NAU league at about 150 teams (Komai 2000). The league drew
huge crowds (Interview with current NAU board).
In 1968/69, a women’s league the Southern California Women’s Athletic Union
(SCWAU) formed and fielded around 70 teams (Komai 2000). Takahashi took over the
19
JAU girls league that at the time only went up to age 15 and determined that there was
more interest for teams in higher age brackets:
So I reset the age bracket in the girls’ sports program to midgets, fourth,
fifth, and sixth grade, juniors, seventh, eighth, and ninth, seniors, tenth,
eleventh, and twelfth. So, they can play until they’re seniors regardless of
what age they are. And then they could move into the SCWAU program
or they can actually play simultaneously, but I recommended they did not.
When I had the program, we had I think six teams in the junior and six
teams in the senior in ’69. At the time that I left the program, we had I
think 60 teams.

Takahashi also decided to do away with separate women’s rules:
What I did was, I changed the rules. Instead of NAGWS’s girls set-up,
where you had three girls on defense and three girls on offense and they
could never cross the line, and you had two dribbles and you had to pass, I
changed it to boys’ rules, with the 30-second clock, if you asked for it.
And once you ask for it, it’s on for the rest of the game.

A large number of Japanese-American women have played in high school,
college, and even professional leagues since the 1970s. Most notably, Lindsey
Yamasaki, a mixed-race Japanese American from Oregon who had a very successful
career at Stanford University (1998-2002) followed by a few years of play in the WNBA
(2002-2006). Natalie Nakase, point guard for UCLA (1999-2003), and Jamie Hagiya,
point guard for USC (2003-2007) have both played professionally in Europe.
Japanese-American boys continue to play in high school and a handful still make
it to college competition. Two players have made it to professional-level basketball. Rex
Walters is a mixed-race Japanese American who grew up playing in the J-Leagues in
Northern California. Standing at 6’4”, he played guard at both Northwestern University
and the University of Kansas during the years 1988 through 1993. He played in the NBA
from 1993 to 2000 and then with the ABA and two European teams until he became a
20
college coach in 2003. Darin Maki played at East Los Angeles College (1998-2000) and
at California State University Dominguez Hills (2000-02), a NCAA Division II school.
He currently plays professionally in Japan.
Athletic organizations and tournaments. Southern California is home to many
Japanese-American sport organizations that also host tournaments to fundraise for their
group. The two biggest organizations are Friends of Richard (FOR) and Tigers Youth
Club. FOR held most likely the first official tournament in Southern California in 1960,
said to have been a replacement for a prior tournament in Salt Lake City (Franks 2000).
Another prominent athletic organization in the Los Angeles area is the Tigers Youth
Club. A group of Nisei athletes who had played in the pre-WWII era as the "Has Beens"
started this youth sports club in 1953. It began with just one boy's baseball team, but
quickly grew to sponsor several baseball and basketball teams. In 1962, the club added a
girl's program. Later, the Tigers grew to incorporate men’s and women’s teams, as well.
The Tigers started their own basketball tournament in 1976, and today it is one of the
more popular tournaments, accommodating over 500 teams. (www.tigeryouthclub.org).

A Three-Level Analysis
The core purpose of this project is to explore a situational social construction of
gender in order to better understand the spectrum of possibilities and consequences in
patterns of gender relations. Scholars have begun to articulate how one might interrogate
the processes involved in the formation of gender using a broad social constructionist
standpoint. Messner (2002) suggests a model of analysis using three levels: social
interaction, structural context, and cultural symbol. Focusing on multiple levels of
21
analysis helps to avoid obscuring micro or macro processes that are vital to fully
understanding power relations.
Independently, Glenn (2002) takes a very similar approach to Messner’s model,
ambitiously integrating gender and race “within the same analytic plane” (6). She argues
that examining processes of racialization and engendering as “mutually constituted
systems of relationships” can be achieved by bridging theories of the social construction
of gender and racial formation (12). Social constructionism “provides a common
vocabulary and set of concepts” that can easily be shared and translated (7). Mirroring
Messner, she presents a framework of three general categories of analysis: representation,
micro-interaction, and social structure.
Glenn (2002) is helpful in providing a model for analyzing intersectionality that is
true to the theoretical frame proposed by Zinn and Dill (2003). They argue that gender,
race, and class are “crucial … insofar as they are primary organizing principles of a
society which locates and positions groups within that society’s opportunity structures”
(82). The theory emphasizes that systems of oppression work “with and though each
other” (85). A person’s race, class, or gender cannot be viewed alone, or as additive
parts, but must be seen as intertwined. This is true at the level of structure,
representation, and interaction.
My reworking of the models presented by Glenn (2002) and Messner (2002) is a
fuller articulation of the local versus “mainstream” context. Building on Connell’s
(2002) concept of the gender order (patterns of the larger society) in relation to gender
regimes (patterns of particular institutions), I will explore how this relationship applies to
the realms of cultural symbols and social interactions. Within institutions, actors produce
22
and consume cultural symbols that differ in content or meaning from those produced for
and consumed by a larger audience. Similarly, interactions within institutions often take
on different content and meaning than those occurring outside of that context.
Therefore, using the models set forth by Glenn (2002) and Messner (2002), I
examine the institution of J-League basketball as a site of both racialization and
engendering (as mutually constitutive processes) using the comprehensive three-level
analysis. At each level, I discuss the relationship between the larger U.S. society and the
local Japanese-American ethnic community. Since the local level and the larger society
are integrally intertwined and therefore impossible to fully disengage, I will only be
artificially separating the two to provide clarity. Chapter two focuses on the structures of
the J-Leagues and the impetus and outgrowths of these structures. Chapter three focuses
on the cultural symbols provided by successful female basketball players in comparison
to similar mainstream images. Chapter four focuses on interactions experienced by J-
League participants inside and outside of the J-League environment.

Structural Context / Social Structure
The Gender Order and Racial Formation. Connell’s theory of a gender order and
Omi and Winant’s theory of racial formation are both derived from Gramsci’s concept of
hegemony. Gramsci (1971) theorized that the power (of the state) is sustained by
coercion and consent. If oppressed groups can be convinced that the current system is
beneficial, they will be unlikely to protest. For those that do protest, groups in power
must be responsive and their dominant ideologies flexible, giving in to certain demands
in order to maintain overall domination.
23
Connell (1987) defines the gender order as dynamic processes that protect the
interests of one group (“men”) over the other (“women”) at a macro level. The structure
itself is seen as cyclical, dynamic, and as constructed by the aggregate of individual and
group actions. Its supporting ideology is hegemonic masculinity, which embodies an
idealized manhood and grants legitimacy to male privileges – it is the “configuration of
gender practice which embodies the currently accepted answer to the problem of the
legitimacy of patriarchy” (Connell 1995). This theory allows for intersectional analysis,
as the power of hegemonic masculinity is in its relation to subordinated and marginalized
masculinities and all femininities. Some of these marginalized or subordinate identities
are so marked due to their intersections with race and class (Connell 1987, 2002). Thus
situational multiplicities of identities can exist in relation to race, class, and gender
position within larger regimes and orders (Connell and Messerschmidt 2005). However,
in situations where race is the more salient form of oppression, it is useful to also to
engage with the theory of racial formation.
The concept of “racial projects” (Omi and Winant 1994) describes competing
ideologies on “race” created or supported by various factions in society. Racial
formation, defined as a “sociohistorical process, by which categories are created,
inhabited, transformed, and destroyed” (55), is the outcome of the competition between
various racial projects. Dominate understandings of race result in a structuring of society
according to these categories that constrain and enable action and often include an
unequal distribution of resources.
Sport tends to uphold the gender order and current hegemonic racial project, but
can also be a site of contestation. Mainstream sporting environments and their
24
representations in the media act in tandem to support a racial and gender order in society
where white men dominate positions of power and masculinity is valued over femininity
(Connell 1995; Kian, Vincent, and Mondello 2008; Messner 1988). However, sport is a
contested terrain that has both today and historically been a site where hegemony has
been challenged by marginalized groups (Hartmann 2003; Messner 1988).
Gender Regimes. According to Connell (2002), institutions all have “a regular set
of arrangements about gender” (53). That is, there are patterns about how tasks and roles
are divided according to social distinctions, which distinctions are salient, and how
people relate to one another based on these distinctions. As a gender researcher, one can
“map” these “gender regimes” and trace the ways in which patterns of gender relations
are constructed, maintained, and challenged (53). Aggregate patterns of gender regimes
make up the larger gender order of a society. Most regimes follow similar patterns to the
gender order, but there is potential for change. Some regimes seem to be ahead of their
time while others lag behind societal-level trends. As patterns that are somewhat
established and resistant to change, regimes are structures. They do not dictate behavior,
but instead lay out “possibilities and consequences” (Connell 2002, 55).
As I will lay out in more detail in chapter two, the J-Leagues’ local gender regime
offers its own “possibilities and consequences” (Connell 2002) for gendered practice. In
some ways, the J-League regime mirrors the larger gender order: the distinctions and
divisions are very similar to sports leagues in other environments throughout society.
First of all, the leagues offer mainly sex-segregated playing opportunities. This can often
confirm ideas about categorical differences between the sexes (Messner 2002; Messner
2009). The leagues are also informally structured so that more men occupy positions of
25
leadership such as head coach, commissioner, or committee chair and more women
engage in support roles such as providing snacks. This division of labor also reinforces
gender hierarchies within sports and other parts of society.
Despite the J-Leagues having several points of conformity with the mainstream
patterns in sport, there are some important divergences. Historically, the community has
been open to female participation in athletics, and in most eras this structure of open-
opportunity differed substantially from the structure of sports in U.S. society. Today, it is
basketball’s central role in the community that provides an even more significant
possibility for girls and women. Families with connections to the Japanese-American
community frequently involve both their sons and daughters in basketball starting at a
young age. This shared experience among the younger generations has had the effect of
placing boys and girls on equal footing. Amongst the younger cohorts (under 35), there
is an assumption that any Japanese American, male or female, probably plays basketball.
Having both the opportunity and the expectation of female participation has had a
powerful effect on how people within the community view female athletes. Though the
leagues are still mostly controlled by an older cohort of men, it appears that as more and
more girls become involved, a gradual shift is occurring in patterns of sex-segregation
and the division of labor. Coed leagues are becoming very popular with the younger
cohorts and there are a good number of women coaching boys and men (and it tends to be
viewed positively).
Working with the concept of gender regimes, Williams (2002) argues that “not
only are places gendered, but space-defined structures have “structural holes” that allow
for direction, intervention, and redirection of gendering processes” (48). In her study of
26
two nearby towns, she felt that greater access to sport was one way that the wealthier
town “agitates the gender regime to accommodate a wider range of alternatives for all
girls in its boundaries, not just for those individual girls who participate in sport” (48).
Scholars have theorized that marginalized men may try to “pass” (Cheng 1999) or
to “bargain” (Chen 1999) with hegemonic masculinity in order to distract from their
marginalized status and claim some of the power and privileges accorded to men.
Demetriou (2001) argues that hegemonic masculinity appeases marginalized
masculinities by appropriating some of the symbols of marginalized groups. In the larger
society, social recognition and economic survival probably necessitate some form of
negotiation with hegemonic masculinity. However, within the confines of the ethnic
community, might other alliances (namely, ethnic ties) take precedence? Research on
local gender regimes has revealed the immense complexity surround gender relations and
gendered identities. It is now clear that there are multiple and diverse masculinities and
femininities often reflecting ethnic/racial and class positions. (Connell and
Messerschmidt 2005).
Similarities to Taiko. Taiko is a very physical and powerful form of drumming.
Konagaya (2005) argues that taiko became popular among Japanese Americans in the
United States in the late 1960s “responding to both the need to build Japanese identity …
and a perception that popular culture portrayed Japanese men as silent subdued, and
studious, taiko performances became locations to negotiate between the ethnic and
popular cultures an evolving conveyable sense of masculinity among Japanese American
men” (134-35).
27
After its initial resurgence in the 1960s, the drumming became increasingly
popular among women who now outnumber men as participants.
Women’s participation in leading and supporting taiko groups has been
essential to the making of a Japanese American taiko tradition and to the
maintenance of community ties … There is a sense among leaders of the
taiko movement that the revival of taiko in America required the
participation of women if it was to be successful in rallying the whole
community around a cultural tradition. (147-148)

The structure involves nearly egalitarian participation by women because it is beneficial
to community cohesion. Additionally, it may be that a certain degree of individual male
dominance is sacrificed for the purpose of masculinizing the entire group.
Likewise, in the J-Leagues the performance of masculinity is not removed from
the practice of basketball, but the salience of gender exclusion (sports is male-only) and
gender-hierarchy (male sports are valued above female sports) are subdued in favor of
asserting a Japanese-American identity and with the sincere desire to build a strong and
lasting Japanese-American community. Like the taiko leaders, many in the basketball
community realize that including girls and women in the leagues can only strengthen the
community and its image.
According to Messner’s (2009) concept of soft essentialism, today’s gender
ideology views men as locked into their biology, whereas women are seen as able to
choose whether to follow what is viewed as their more “natural” path towards femininity
and motherhood, or to cross over into masculine territory (or more commonly, to manage
both). Thus, women’s participation in what may be regarded as a primarily masculine
endeavor – taiko drumming or basketball – is not as readily seen as deviant. It may be
28
that this strategy to reject aspects of hegemonic masculinity within the group empowers
the ethnicity as a whole to match up with white, middle class standards.

Cultural Symbol / Representation
Just as there are societal level structures that maintain interrelated gender and
racial orders, there are societal level images and discourses that support and legitimize
them. As discussed, patriarchy is upheld to a large extent by hegemonic masculinity.
Hegemonic masculinity has a symbolic component in that certain archetypes of men and
masculinities are valued above others. The marginalization of particular men and
masculinities is simultaneously a gender, race and class project. Espiritu (2000) argues
that these images help to racialize and consequently oppress marginalized groups.
“Ideological assaults – the condensations of Asian American men and women’s multiple
differences into one-dimensional caricatures – construct a reality in which racial, class,
and gender oppressions are defensible” (13). The images exist to maintain the status of
hegemonic groups. For example, “although Asian American women are often portrayed
as ‘hypersexual’ and men as ‘asexual,’ both stereotypes exist to define and confirm the
white man’s virility and superiority” (13).
Relative racialization. Racialization of particular groups is not autonomous, but
“mutually constitutive” (Kim 1999, 106). The images that support racial oppression
often include comparisons between racial groups to help bolster claims of white
superiority. Because of the longstanding dominance of the Black/white paradigm in race
relations, “Asian Americans have been racialized relative to and through interaction with
Whites and Blacks” (Kim 1999, 106).
29
Asian Americans have not faced the same type of racism or racist images as have
African Americans and have often been defined in relation to them. Although Asian
laborers (mainly Chinese) were sometimes degraded by white by associating them with
African Americans or African American characteristics, they were not “systemactically
lumped with Black but instead often identified as a distinct racial group and lauded as
superior to Blacks on cultural-racial grounds” (Kim 1999, 110). At the same time, “they
were also constructed as immutably foreign and ostracized from the body politic on these
grounds” (112). Although whites sometimes distinguished Japanese immigrants from
Chinese (valorizing them over the Chinese), the processes of racialization were similar
(115-16).
In the famous article that first articulated the model minority myth (Petersen
1966), Japanese Americans are described as having an essentialized Japanese culture
(despite being majority U.S. born) that has permitted them to thrive in the face of
discrimination while African Americans (with their inferior culture) have not. It
positions the group as superior to African Americans, but foreign to whites. Today’s
racial triangulation continues to be cultural in nature. (Kim 1999). “Asian American
cultural values are seen as more conducive to success than (read: superior to) Black
cultural values” (117). However, Asian American valorization is still linked to civic
ostracism. The perceived cultural differences that allegedly make the group (whether
Asian Americans or Japanese Americans) culturally superior to African Americans are
also seen as out of sync with mainstream (white) culture. An example of this type of
racialization is in how mainstream media tended to cover ice skater Kristi Yamaguchi,
30
essentializing her “Japaneseness” even though she is fourth generation American (Kim
1999).
This racial triangulation is particularly important to the basketball context.
Because professional men’s basketball occupies a space at the center of sports (Messner
2002) and because it is associated with African American men, African Americans
become a salient focus of racial comparison. The cultural triangulation applies: Asian
Americans are culturally superior to African Americans and therefore not likely to throw
away their life chances by over-investing in basketball. African American community
commitment to basketball is viewed as pathological (Hoberman 1997) and Asian
Americans are seen as above this. At the same time, whites (perhaps, white women in
particular) are viewed as having a positive relationship with basketball as played
recreationally and in schools as part of a well-rounded education. Asian Americans,
however, are symbolically excluded from this version of basketball, because their culture
(homogenous, unchanging, and foreign) does not value sports.
Because the context of sport gives salience to bodies, a supposed biological
triangulation between whites, African Americans and Asian Americans is also playing a
part in the racialization of Asian Americans. In relation to African Americans, Asian
Americans are viewed as less athletically talented, less physically gifted. In relation to
whites, Asian Americans are viewed as smaller in stature. The combination of these
perceived deficits makes them an unlikely basketball player. King (2006) argues that the
perceived incongruity of pairing of Asians with sports is commonly a source of jokes and
joking. These jokes have “proven so central to (dis)figuring Asians and Asian Americans
in sport, simultaneously effacing and defacing them” (342).
31
Mainstream Media Coverage of Women Athletes
Research on the coverage of women’s sports in the media has generally tackled
two issues: 1) the silences surrounding women in sport and 2) stereotypical portrayals of
women in sport. The overwhelming majority of the scholarship in this area addresses
coverage in mainstream media outlets and agrees “that the media play a role in the way
women are oppressed, marginalized or disenfranchised by the current sport system”
(Creedon 1994).
In many contexts, sport has a deep connection to the preservation and celebration
of traditional masculine values, and is a site for the maintenance of male privileges and
male power (Brackenridge 2001; Graydon 1983; Hargreaves 1994; Messner 1988, 1992,
2002; Putney 2001; Sabo and Runfola 1980; Theberge 1981). If sport can be preserved
as a male-dominated domain, these values and power relations are reified and reinforced.
By often ignoring or marginalizing women’s sport, the mainstream media plays a
significant role in this process, and these strategies have been theorized as part of an
overall discursive project to maintain male dominance (e.g. Hargreaves 1994; Kane and
Greendorfer 1994).
Scholarship examining television, magazine and newspaper coverage commonly
come to similar conclusions, finding that women’s sports generally receive less than ten
percent of overall sports coverage (e.g. Bishop 2003; Duncan, Messner, and Williams
1991; Lumpkin and Williams 1991; Messner, Duncan, and Willms 2006; Messner and
Cooky 2010). In most mainstream sports news outlets, women’s sports participation is
virtually ignored. By not covering women’s sports, the sports media can, in essence,
erase or prevent images of women athletes from entering into the public consciousness.
32
Viewers may not realize the sheer quantity of women athletes nor recognize some of the
athletic talent exhibited by women simply because it is not visible.
That is not to say that there have not been some improvements. Recent studies,
especially those that look at Olympic coverage, have begun to see closer to proportional
coverage (e.g. King 2007). Important to this study, when comparing apples to apples
(e.g. the NCAA women’s and men’s basketball tournaments), coverage of women’s
basketball can be as high as 25% of all comparable basketball coverage in larger
mainstream news outlets, both print and on-line (e.g. Dozier 1999; Kian, Vincent, and
Mondello 2008; Silverstein 1996) and up to 45% in smaller, local presses (Evarts 1996;
Pedersen, et al. 2007). Article content, length, placement and supporting photographs
still tend to favor men’s basketball. However, these studies of directly comparable
basketball coverage indicate some degree of greater status for women’s basketball and
may also demonstrate that certain local contexts can produce alternative priorities and
understandings of women’s participation in sport.
In addition to the coverage being disproportional, the content of mainstream
coverage has also been revealing. A number of prominent studies discuss the ways that
women athletes are portrayed in the limited coverage that they receive (e.g. Davis 1997;
Duncan 1990; Duncan and Messner 1998; Messner, Duncan, and Cooky 2003; Messner,
Duncan, and Jensen 1993; Messner, Duncan and Willms 2006; Messner and Cooky
2010). Women’s sports are often trivialized, for example, on television by sexualizing or
making fun of the women’s athletic endeavors (Messner, Duncan and Willms 2006). In
photographs, women athletes are often depicted as posed/inactive while men athletes are
predominately captured in active, action shots (Hargreaves 1994; Kane and Greendorfer
33
1994). In posed shots, women may be dressed not as athletes, but in feminine attire,
helping to assert an idealized (often white) version of femininity, that also portrays the
athlete as undisputedly heterosexual by including images of pregnancy, children or male
partners (Griffin 1998). Other times, women athletes are ridiculed for being too
masculine. In any number of ways, the media tends to show its ambivalence towards
women’s athleticism. Kane and Greendorfer (1994) argue that this ambivalence allows
the media to at times recognize female athleticism, but also to cling to more traditional
ideas about women’s roles.
This ambivalent framing of women’s sports may serve to stabilize the gender
order (Connell 1995, 2002). One study of the coverage of both NCAA basketball
tournaments (Kian, Vincent, and Mondello 2008) argues that the sports media reinforce
male dominance in sport by referencing men’s basketball during coverage of women’s
basketball, comparing women athletes to men athletes, and by attributing women
athletes’ successes to training with men. Although they found some coverage that
disrupted these narratives, the majority of coverage followed this pattern, reinforcing the
idea that men are the normative athletes, and strengthening their claims to superiority in
athletics and beyond.
Mainstream media coverage of women athletes from racially or ethnically
marginalized groups. When female athletes receive coverage in the mainstream media, it
is often not only because of their athletic talent, but also because they fit a particular
model of womanhood that is perceived as comfortable for audiences. As discussed, this
is often an attractive and feminine woman and the ideal candidate for meeting these
standards is generally a white, middle-class woman (Kim, Walkosz, and Iverson 2006) or
34
sometimes (e.g. in the WNBA) her closest African American approximation (Banet-
Weiser 1999; McDonald 2002).
When recognized, women of other racial or economic backgrounds are often
positioned in relation to this feminine norm. In media depictions, women from racially or
ethnically marginalized groups can face portrayals that exoticize them or otherwise
stereotype them in racist ways. Espiritu (2000) argues that gender and sexuality play a
key part in constructing racist images. Stereotypes and other imagery surrounding non-
white athletes can be described as “controlling images” (Collins 1991) that act as
“ideological assaults” (Espiritu 2000, 13). Although symbolic, these images are powerful
and influence interactions and self-perceptions (Collins 1991; Espiritu 2000; Pyke and
Johnson 2003).
Early scholarship on women athletes in the media tended to homogenize women
as a single category, not taking into account divergences according to race and class.
Although research on the coverage of women the mainstream media provides important
insights into dominant ideologies about women’s sports, it does not fully encompass the
range of images and discourses surrounding athletes and rarely interrogates the role of
whiteness. Since the period when numerous scholars called for more research on women
athletes from racially or ethnically marginalized groups (Birrell 1989, 1990; Hargreaves
1994; Messner 1993; Smith 1992), there have been a growing number of studies that
address these issues.
Scholars have produced some important work on mainstream media depictions of
women athletes from racially or ethnically marginalized groups, principally using textual
analysis. From historical studies of African American women in track and field in the
35
1940s (Cahn 2004) to more contemporary studies of Serena Williams in tennis (Schultz
2005), it is well-documented that the mainstream media is active in perpetuating
stereotypes of African American women athletes, particularly as hypersexual and
animalistic. More has been written about media portrayals of Asian athletes than Asian
American athletes. The former can sometimes be depicted as invaders, taking over U.S.-
based sporting institutions such as the LPGA (Kim, Walkosz, and Iverson 2006; Shin and
Nam 2004) or as mechanical, emotionless competitors whose size and physicality are
subject to frequent commentary (Sabo, et al. 1996). There may be evidence of the media
conflating Asians and Asian Americans, as suggested by some of the media discourse
surrounding Asian American Olympic ice-skaters Michelle Kwan and Kristi Yamaguchi
that implied a questioning of the skaters’ true status as “Americans” (Tuan 1999).
Class enters into the picture, as well. Asian Americans have faced the stereotype
of “model minority”, casting them as intelligent, hard-working, and apolitical. These
depictions connect Asian Americans to middle class values and the dominant Asian
American stereotype is of a professional or an upwardly mobile entrepreneur.
7
In
describing Asian American imagery in literature, Koshy (2004) coins the term “sexual
model minority” to explain the ways in which Asian American women are not only held
up as economic successes, but also as ideal sexual/gendered objects. They are

7
Chinese Americans and Japanese Americans were first to be described as model minorities beginning in
the 1960s. They were portrayed as hard working and high achieving, as able to overcome obstacles and
achieve success in America. (Osajima, 1988). However, this assessment masked some less favorable
agendas and consequences. By seeing Asian Americans as homogenized, it silenced the range of voices
and experiences within the group, and hid issues of discrimination and poverty (Lee, 1996; Takaki, 1989).
The myth also helps to perpetuate controlling images and restrictive stereotypes about Asian Americans
(Espiritu, 2000). In addition, the model minority myth is a clear critique of other minority groups. The
“model” in model minority inherently makes a direct comparison and critique of “not so model” minorities,
and early articles about the model minority clearly made the comparison between African Americans and
Asian Americans (Kim, 1999; Saito, 2009).
36
particularly “model” because the perceived combination of compliance and sex appeal
has a positive connotation for the American imagination when juxtaposed against
stereotypical images of white feminism and black matriarchy. Again, class enters the
picture because, Asian American women are in a sense representing a middle class, white
version of gender, but assumed to be enacting it in a way superior to the white model.
Women Athletes as Icons. Scholarship has also emerged that examines instances
of women athletic icons (e.g. Gardiner 2003; Heywood and Dworkin 2003; Shin and
Nam 2004). Despite the characteristic marginalization of women in the sports media,
certain contexts have evolved where women have gained substantial media attention.
This is particularly common in Olympic competitions where successful women athletes
inspire a sense of national pride. Although whiteness can commonly be part of these
nationalistic projects, women of other race and socioeconomic positions have also gained
notoriety and subsequently faced media portrayals that often reflected controlling images
around their gender, race, and class statuses. For example, Gardiner (2003) found that
media depictions in the Australian press during the Sydney Olympics in 2000 embraced
indigenous athletes Nova Peris-Kneebone and Cathy Freeman as symbols of national
identity and unity. Depictions were not free of racialized and gendered images, but such
images became co-opted, helping to build a sense of Australian national identity. In the
case of these athletes, the non-white female body became a symbol through which some
degree of racial reconciliation could take place (at least in the eyes of the predominately
white mainstream press). Although Japanese Americans are not embarking on a project
of nationalism, they are working to sustain and define their sense of community. Women
37
athletes may provide an avenue for defining what is valued by the community and what
makes an ideal community member.
In a similar gender/racial project, there have also been circumstances where
women athletes have gained status as superior role models to male athletes, particularly
for smaller, niche audiences such as families with children. This is particularly true in
professional basketball. Professional men’s basketball has become more and more
associated with African Americans and the media has tended to present African
American NBA players as “a group of spoiled, ungrateful, violent, Black men” (Banet-
Weiser 1999, 405). Professional women’s basketball, conversely, has often been
represented as a more pure form of the game, and its players as morally superior to their
male counterparts. Their gender, Banet-Weiser (1999) argues, is the main focal point, as
the league purposefully promotes players who “follow normative conventions of
heterosexual femininity” (404). In an intersection of race and gender, African American
male athletes can represent dangerous or undeserving elements of the game whereas
African American female athletes do not carry the same symbolic baggage. This
certainly has not resulted in the public embracing the WNBA over the NBA in terms of
interest or sponsorship, but is more of a rhetorical strategy whereby the WNBA hopes to
win over as many fans and supporters as possible by playing against the racial politics of
the NBA, while (supposedly) keeping racial politics out of the WNBA. (Banet-Weiser
1999). Although images and racial politics concerning Asian Americans differ greatly
from those of African Americans, the rhetoric of women athletes as more wholesome
than male athletes may play a part in why successful Japanese-American women
basketball players are so celebrated by the community. When these women play on
38
college and professional teams, attending games as a family and community activity may
seem even more attractive given the aforementioned connotations associated with elite
women’s basketball.
Ethnic Community Sports and Ethnic/Racial Icons. Although historically more
invested in men’s sports and icons, the Jewish American engagement with sports, and
particularly basketball, may be helpful in understanding the Japanese Americans’ love of
the game and desire to follow and support mainstream successes. During the first half of
the twentieth century, both community sports and successful Jewish-American athletes
became important elements of Jewish-American life. There is some scholarly debate as
to whether Jewish athletes who became successful in the mainstream were celebrated by
Jewish-American individuals and communities because these athletes represented
acceptance by mainstream society (indicating the possibility and desirability of
assimilation), or rather because they engendered a sense of ethnic pride, heightening
feelings of ethnic solidarity. (Kugelmass 2007b). The simple answer is both – the ability
of these icons to simultaneously symbolize a sense of belonging to the larger society and
to the ethnic group was probably what solidified their appeal as icons. Levine (1992)
describes both the sport icons and the community leagues that helped to foster them as
facilitating a “middle ground” for many Jewish Americans during this pre-World War II
period. At the time, discrimination led many to experience to internal suffering and
sometimes even a denial of Jewishness. “For many, however, control of their sport and
leisure world helped counter feelings of helplessness and alienation in ways that
encouraged their claims to legitimacy and full participation while at the same time
providing a sense of ethnic solidarity and identity” (7). Research examining images of
39
Asian Americans supports the idea that Japanese Americans may find similar rewards in
their own practice of basketball and have much of the same feelings towards those
athletes who succeed in mainstream contexts. Sports can often provide at least symbolic
access to the larger society, a sense of citizenship for populations feeling excluded in
some way from mainstream life (Kugelmass 2007b; Levine 1992).

Local Images
As will be discussed in chapter four, images particular to the Japanese-American
community differ in many ways from those described above. For Japanese Americans,
not only is providing a structure that expects girls to play paying off in terms of
community-building, but it has provided the community with valuable cultural symbols
in the form of the successful girls who have emerged from the leagues. As members of
the same community, the consumption of the icons differs substantially from what is
found in the mainstream media.
Intra-group Media Coverage of Women Athletes from racially or ethnically
marginalized groups. If the stories that the mainstream sports media are telling about
women athletes, and particularly about women from racially or ethnically marginalized
groups athletes, express many controlling images about appropriate norms of femininity
and whiteness while othering non-white women, what stories are being told by more local
or niche media outlets, especially those under the control of members of a particular
racial or ethnic group? This is a topic that is seldom considered.
Four studies have established that niche publications serving non-white
communities feature depictions of women athletes that differ from the mainstream
40
(Jamieson 2000; Paraschak 1990; Williams 1987; Yep 2009). Jamieson’s study (2000) of
media portrayals of golfer Nancy Lopez in a mainstream magazine (Sports Illustrated)
versus two magazines aimed at a Latino/a audience (Nuestro and Hispanic), showed
qualitative differences in how the two media sources constructed meaning around the
subject of Lopez. For example, Sports Illustrated covered Lopez’s marriages and
pregnancies extensively, while the Latino/a magazines had very little coverage of these
topics. Sports Illustrated also interpreted Lopez’s working-class, Mexican-American
roots as a deficit she had overcome, while the Latino/a magazines tended to give a richer
description of her family and honored them as a source of her success. Yep (2009) found
comparable media divergences in her qualitative archival research on mainstream and
ethnic community news coverage of Chinese-American athletes during the 1930s and
40s. The mainstream press during this period tended to treat women athletes in a
stereotypical fashion and depicted Chinese-American athletes in stereotypically racialized
and gendered ways. Conversely, ethnic community presses such as the Chinese Digest
tended to treat Chinese-American women athletes with respect. Paraschak (1990) found
that from 1968-1980, a newspaper based on the Six Nations Reserve in Ontario, Canada
featured local women athletes in 78% of their publications. The coverage indicated that
girls and women athletes from the reserve were excelling both within the “All-Indian”
leagues and in mainstream athletic competition. Williams (1987) studied the sports
coverage in two African American newspapers, the Pittsburgh Courier (1924-1948) and
the Chicago Defender (1932-1948). She found that the coverage of women was plentiful,
positive, and relatively free of sexist language.
41
The findings in these three articles indicate a departure from mainstream trends,
first by covering women athletes and second by covering them in ways that diverge from
stereotypical portrayals. These niche publications all appear to be resisting mainstream
interpretations of sports, finding alternative ways to cover their own communities. Those
studies that utilize textual analysis allow for a greater understanding of the fluidity of
gender, especially in intersection with other axes of oppression.
Despite the rich possibilities in studying sports coverage from a marginalized
standpoint, there are still very few studies of ethnic- or race-based media, particularly of
contemporary presses. Furthermore, few utilize research methods such as content
analysis that are very common in studies of mainstream media outlets. A more direct
comparison more vividly demonstrates divergences between mainstream media coverage
and the coverage of an ethnic community press.

Social Interaction / Micro-Interaction
Structures are created and maintained by the interactions that make them
meaningful. In a response to the then popular structural-functionalist views of the world,
Garfinkel (1967) acknowledged that broad social norms and roles do influence us, but not
to the extent that some think. Order is created through our interactions with others and
the practices that govern these interactions. Although Goffman (1956) and Garfinkel
(1967) wrote about the idea of gender performance, their work was greatly advanced by
Kessler and McKenna (1978) and “Doing Gender” became part of the sociological
lexicon due to work by West and Zimmerman (1987). West and Zimmerman agreed with
Garfinkel that gender was something people displayed, but augmented the concept by
42
theorizing that gender was actually an “achievement” and that it was perpetually
accomplished in every aspect of life. Gender was a necessary component in all
interactions and if one did not “do” gender, others would do it for him or her (Lucal
1999, 785). This placed gender as an integral part of any study of human interaction.
Gender is no longer conceived as a role or set of behaviors, but active work that is
pursued differently in different situations and over time.
West and Fenstermaker (1995) revised the theory of “doing gender” (1987) to
more fully articulate how gender, race and class can simultaneously affect interactions.
They argue that in any given situation, individuals accomplish their race, class and
gender identities through behaviors and actions. They are held accountable by other
individuals as well as by institutions for enacting these identities within a given range of
appropriate practices. The resulting content of interactions tends to reinforce existing
structures and hierarchies based on these power relations. Because of the importance of
distinctions and hierarchies based on these social categories in our society, “all social
exchanges … are simultaneously ‘gendered,’ ‘raced,’ and ‘classed’” (13). Context is
important in determining what may be deemed as appropriate – therefore, race, class and
gender can be considered “situated accomplishments.”
Although the theory of “doing difference” provides a useful tool for looking at
micro-interactions that often reproduce inequalities, its critics have aptly suggested that
the framework may obscure macro-level issues of oppression based on race, class, and
gender (Collins, et al. 1995). I engage with the theory of “doing difference” within the
three-part analytical model described above that will fully engage with structural and
symbolic relations of power.
43
Research Questions
As I began the analytic phases of my research, I was able to think about my research
questions in more clearly theoretical ways:
• What may be distinctive about an ethnic community that would make respect and
support of female athletes possible? What is the relationship between this
community and the larger society and how does this affect the localized gender
regime?
• What are the patterns in a sport institution that create greater opportunities for
girls and women to play, while facilitating respect and esteem for the female
players? How is the local gender regime structured (or not) to promote gender-
inclusiveness?
• How did these patterns develop and how are they sustained? How is the gender
regime (re)created through interactions and cultural symbols?
• Within the Japanese-American community, how do participants make sense of
girls’ and women’s involvement and the successes of several female players?
What are the gender and racial ideologies in the community and how do they
legitimize or subvert the gender and racial orders?
• Finally, how do the players understand their own experience as Japanese-
American basketball players? How do Japanese Americans “do” community,
ethnicity, race, class, gender, and Americanness through practicing and
identifying with basketball?
44
Research Reflections and Methodology
On a dark Thursday night in December of 2007, I drove through the back gate of
a South Bay middle school and steered my car around outlying buildings to an isolated
school gymnasium. I entered the brightly-lit gym and other women came in soon after.
We gathered at a bench, waiting for a group of men to finish their pickup game.
Immediately, I felt like I was a bit out of place. Not only was I the only non-Asian
American player in the gym, but all of the women who entered immediately found a spot
on the floor and carefully removed their street shoes, replacing them with pristine court
shoes. I stared down at my shabby basketball shoes, recently extracted from the back of
the closet after several years of neglect. Like a rookie, I had put them on at home and
worn them outside.
Just having celebrated my 30
th
birthday in November of that year, I was already
feeling a little bit old, and foolish, to be playing basketball. Yes, I had played in high
school and a bit since, but I was rusty and out of shape. Surely, this was a bad idea. Still,
here I was, trying to forage for a few possible interviewees. So far, it had been a bit
difficult to make solid contacts, but fortunately I had met one of the players, Tammy, at a
Tigers Youth Club board meeting and she generously invited me to play in a pick up
game with her and some of her teammates. This was actually my second week playing at
this gym at this time. The first week I had run in and out without much fanfare. Tammy
was not able to make it and I had arrived late and left early due to other commitments. I
reprimanded myself for not noticing the unspoken “court shoes” policy the prior week.
On this evening, I said hello to a few players who I had seen the week before and
there were some quick introductions, but by around 8:15 we were on the court and
45
playing. For the second week in a row, it was a high-caliber, fast-paced game. Despite
being a “pickup” game, players ran a motion offense and played quality, fundamental
basketball. When I could keep up, I was having the time of my life. Tammy came in a
few minutes later and at a “half-time” break around 9:00 p.m., she officially introduced
me and had me explain my project. After giving my little spiel, I held up a clipboard and
requested that players leave their contact information so that I could call them later for an
interview. I placed the clipboard on the bench. No one ran right over, and as the game
progressed and players entered and exited, the single sheet of paper attached to the
clipboard remained blank.
In the meantime, I became more and more exhausted. How long would these
women play? When the game was finally called at 10:20 p.m., I limped over to the bench
to find that my sign-up sheet remained void of any entries. I had been out of the game for
a bit with a jammed finger, my hip was hurting, and I felt the onset of shin splints. I
collapsed onto the bench, unable to move. Then, like a dramatic transition in a movie,
one of the players suddenly grabbed the clipboard and wrote down her name and number.
She handed off the board to another player. Soon after, a third came over and asked to
sign up. Three possible interviews!
As I thanked everyone and hobbled out of the gym, I realized that I may have
been subjected to a test that night. Certainly, although the first night I was able to have
quick conversations with fellow players temporarily sitting out of the game, I had not
secured any contacts. This week again, even with Tammy’s introduction, it did not seem
like anyone was willing to help me with my project. Only when I stuck it out until the
46
end, playing through two hours of fast-paced basketball with minimal breaks, had I
passed the test.
These are the moments that both confirm and complicate the nature of an
“outsider.” My racial/ethnic status as a white, European American in many ways made
me the quintessential outsider in the J-Leagues where team membership is often restricted
to Japanese and Asian Americans. However, my status as a basketball player (however
rusty and out of shape) helped me earn a degree of trust and camaraderie as an insider
that may not have been possible if I had never played the game. Into the bargain, being a
female athlete also allowed me access to this women-only pick up game and did not
prevent me from being invited to play in a few pick up games with a group of Japanese-
American men. Being an athlete may have put me in a sympathetic position in the eyes
of other female athletes and gave me a degree of legitimacy with my male interviewees,
as well.
In doing qualitative research, it is important to consider the identities of the
subjects and researcher as well as the topic of inquiry and the environment of the research
site(s). As Pini (2005) simplifies it: “Who is asking whom about what and where?”
(204). Race, class, and gender influence all of these elements of qualitative research.

Researcher as Racial/Ethnic Outsider
As much as my basketball knowledge and abilities helped to give me some
legitimacy as a researcher and as a human being (from the perspective of J-League
basketball fanatics), there were some real research limitations due to my racial/ethnic
background. First of all, I could not conduct participant observation as a player on an
47
official team. Non-Asians were not allowed to play in the adult leagues if they did not
play as a youth within the J-Leagues. Since I had never played in the J-Leagues before, I
was shut off from this opportunity. I also, early on in my research, offered myself as an
assistant coach on several occasions, hoping that this could be a way to conduct
participant observation. My offers were graciously acknowledged, but I did not receive
any invitations to coach. Although here I cannot be as sure about the motives behind this
passive exclusion, I believe some of the J-League participants may have felt
uncomfortable with me in this role, both as a non-Asian and as a stranger. So, this
represented another research opportunity closed off, potentially due to my outsider
statuses.
Upon reflection, playing or coaching as one of the few non-Asians in the J-
Leagues may have resulted in too much observer effect. I may have ended up with a
different story than the one that I ended up telling. My observations may have revolved
too much around reactions to a non-Asian American in the leagues, as I probably would
have been a conspicuous participant. So, my frequent position as an outsider looking in
(observer, but seldom a participant observer) may have worked out for the best. I was
able to engage in some participant observation as a player in pick-up games, as described
above, and as a volunteer with the Little Tokyo Service Center.
Being an ethnic/racial outsider most likely made it more difficult to gain the trust
and cooperation of J-League participants. The description of Thursday night pickup
games is one example of a way that I used my insider status as a basketball player to
bridge that gap. It also helped, as I met more and more people, to use referrals. Once I
had the benefit of a recommendation by someone in the J-Leagues, the new contact was
48
more willing to give access to a meeting, practice, or game or to sit down for an
interview. Still, most asked at least a couple questions about me, my interest in the J-
Leagues, and sometimes about the purpose or frame of the research. I almost always
ended up telling the story of my encounter with Jamie Hagiya, about my own interest in
basketball and women’s sports, and sometimes about my husband who is Japanese
American (but not a part of the J-Leagues). In these ways, I seemed to gain their trust.
However, one incident made clear that this trust was fragile. About a year after I had
begun interviewing, I attended an event given by the Little Tokyo Historical Society. A
man who looked familiar sat down near me and when he spoke with the woman sitting
beside me who I had been chatting with, she introduced me. I had to ask his name and
when he gave it, I realized that he was one of my interviewees. I apologized for not
recognizing him and explained that now that nearly a year had passed and having
conducted dozens of interviews, I had become terrible at matching names with faces. “I
know,” he said. “We all look alike.” I protested, assuring him that this was not the issue,
but I was very embarrassed and felt terrible for not recognizing him. My social blunder
had led him to believe that, as a white person, I could not or did not bother to distinguish
between Japanese Americans. A few of my other interviewees also seemed to indicate
similar feelings of mistrust and concern over my ability to fairly and accurately represent
Japanese Americans in my research. I could only assure those that voiced such concerns
that I would do my best to be accurate and respectful.
Being an ethnic/racial outsider also almost certainly affected rapport and trust
within interviews. Interviewees may have at times engaged in impression management
or felt unwilling to share things with me that would reflect badly on Japanese or Asian
49
Americans. In some interviews, I could sense a degree of hesitation or unwillingness to
discuss certain topics, usually those having to do with race or racism. However, for every
interviewee who was a bit shy with me, there were others who were very open and
generous with their thoughts and experiences.
One issue affecting both access and rapport was that some J-League participants
had felt attacked in the past by potential lawsuits and media coverage that claimed that
the J-Leagues were racist. Since the leagues have such strict rules regarding eligibility to
play that are based on ethnic and racial criteria, some people who fall outside of these
criteria find the leagues exclusionary. Within the J-Leagues, opinions vary, but most
seem to agree that some degree of restriction is appropriate to maintain the history and
tradition of the leagues as being, first and foremost, for the Japanese-American
community. Others fear losing the community-feel or the height-controlled environment.
Because this issue is so contentious, several people whom I approached feared that I was
writing an exposé on the ethnicity rules. This concern led some to stay tight-lipped on
the subject and others to carefully volunteer information and opinions. It probably also
caused a certain number of people to decline the opportunity to participate in the
research. When I sensed that this issue was on people’s minds, I made a point of
reassuring them that this was not the focus of my research.
There may also have been some upsides to my position as outsider. As with any
type of outsider, racial/ethnic outsiders often have an easier time conducting ethnographic
research because it is unlikely that research subjects will assume much prior knowledge
on the part of the researcher (Rhodes 1994). This seemed to hold true because most of
my interviewees and contacts in the field assumed that I knew very little about the J-
50
Leagues or the reasons why Japanese Americans would choose to participate in these
leagues. Many would, for example, patiently explain how the leagues were organized or
give their version of the league’s historical background. Even with these assumptions
about my lack of knowledge (often correct), many participants still spoke in acronyms
and other lingo specific to the J-Leagues and, in early interviews, I had to ask for a lot of
clarification or at times I simply listened and recorded the information hoping that later it
would make more sense to me. In many ways, I was the outsider and had a lot to learn.

Researcher as Class, Environment, and Gender Insider
Other than my status as a basketball player and fan, having a similar upbringing,
both socio-economically and environmentally (West Coast urban), with the majority J-
League participants was probably one of the most helpful components in building a
rapport with interviewees and contacts. My father was a civil servant and this also
seemed to be a common career for many Japanese Americans whom I interviewed (for
example, lots of teachers, city employees, postal workers). Most interviewees had
attended college (commonly at a state institution), so my position as a PhD candidate did
not create as much social distance as it might have in other circumstances. In addition, I
grew up in Seattle, Washington. Although Seattle is not nearly as big as Los Angeles, I
did, to a certain extent, understand living in a West Coast urban environment. At times, I
would share with participants that I was from Seattle and sometimes they would know
someone from there or begin to speculate about the existence of J-Leagues in Seattle
since there is a fairly sizeable Japanese-American community there. My impression was
that my subjects and I shared similar vocabularies and enough common experiences to
51
easily relate on a number of topics. Speaking with J-League participants felt very
comfortable and similar to conversations I have had with friends and acquaintances in my
personal life.
I also shared the same gender with half of my interviewees and I felt an especially
strong connection with women in my age cohort. Sharing the position of female athlete
seemed to build trust and rapport. On the other hand, the other half of my interviewees
were men, creating another possible social barrier between researcher and subject.

Female Researcher, Male Interviewee
As Pini (2005) argues, gender permeates an interview not only through the
identities of the researcher and subject, but also through the topic of the research and the
gendered context of the environment(s) related to the research. Men being interviewed
by women may try to do gender (West and Fenstermaker 1987) by attempting to assert
dominance or enacting other aspects of masculinity. This behavior is most prevalent
when the topic of the research or content of interview questions in some way challenges
their claims to hegemonic masculinity (Barber forthcoming).
For some reason, unlike the easy rapport I had with most of the women around
my age, male interviewees in my age range tended to be a bit on the reserved side. They
also, in general, seemed more protective of their masculine image and less willing to
share more than exactly what was asked. Men in their forties and over were far more
talkative and sometimes more vulnerable in their responses. I got the impression that
men in these older age groups really enjoyed having someone to listen to them talk about
52
their sports careers and it probably did not hurt that it was a younger woman who was
listening.
Topic of Inquiry. The topic of inquiry, Japanese-American basketball, was an
easy sell for nearly everyone because participants seemed to have had a mostly positive
experience with the J-Leagues. Additionally, by talking about their own sports
experiences, men could easily assert a masculine identity. I asked more general and
biographical type questions towards the beginning of the interview and, as long as I was
not asked specifically up front about my frame and interests, I saved my questions about
race and gender for the latter part of the interview. This was simply to allow
interviewees to answer as freely as possible. Although I did have a particular interest in
gender formation (which I would discuss, if asked, or explain more towards the end of
the interview), I was truly interested in exploring any and all themes that emerged from
the data and did not want to restrict my findings.
Research Context. The overwhelming majority of my male interviewees did not
engage in behaviors such as trying to distance themselves from female players or
diminishing female players as a way to assert masculinity. On the contrary, the common
responses to questions about girls and women in the J-Leagues were to praise their skills
and applaud their success. Only one of my older interviewees who had been involved in
the leagues only as a young man expressed that he felt it was inappropriate for women to
be pursuing competitive sports. A few scholars have noted that men may try to act less
sexist or speak more progressively in the company of a woman (Pini 2005). My status as
a female athlete may have heightened this issue, encouraging them to speak well of
female athletes or else risk being rude to me. However, most men appeared to be
53
genuinely enthusiastic about discussing and praising the girls and women in the J-
Leagues. As Pini (2005) suggests, the gender context of the J-Leagues had an affect on
how participants spoke about women (and to a woman). Because of some of the
community dynamics that I discuss in this dissertation, asking boys and men about the
successes of female athletes and the general respect for female athletes did not appear to
make them uncomfortable at all. I noticed more expressions of masculine identity
management when I spoke about race and ethnicity. Since Asian Americans men have
been feminized in American culture, speaking about race (which often led to discussions
of body size) seemed to elicit more feelings of insecurity among male interviewees than
discussions of female capabilities and even women’s greater success in mainstream
basketball.

Method/Methodology
The primary research techniques informing this dissertation were semi-structured
interviews and ethnographic-style fieldwork and observations. To supplement this
research, I also conducted a small survey. The University of Southern California’s
Institutional Review Board (IRB) granted approval for these portions of the research. In
addition, I conducted archival research: a one-year study of the community newspaper
(the Rafu Shimpo) sports page and a count of coaches in a tournament program.
Overall, my research design emerged from a feminist methodology. Because I
used several forms of research, my approaches ranged from feminist empiricism to
feminist epistemology (Hesse-Biber and Nagy 2007). However, even in my use of
empirical inquiry, I am not attempting to make claims about capital “T” truth or to assert
54
my findings as generalizable. Instead, I am simply following an approach that gives
ascendancy to women’s voices and women’s stories.
Many have rightfully argued that feminism can put too much focus on gender as a
common experience, ignoring the sometimes hugely divergent experiences of women
(e.g. Collins 1991). Therefore, this study attempts at every stage to engage with an
intersectional perspective and to make no assumptions about experiences based on gender
alone. Even so, it is important for the reader to know that this researcher is motivated by
a sense of solidarity among women, particularly in sport. Even if we may be playing
different games with different rules, encountering different obstacles, and having
different kinds of experiences, as women athletes it still feels like we are on the same
team.

Interviews
I chose in-depth, semi-structured, qualitative interviews as my primary research
method because my central research questions required learning about J-League
participants’ perspectives and experiences. Asking participants to share these personal
reflections gave me crucial information for understanding processes of gender,
ethnic/racial, and community formation.
Although during my research, I had many informal conversations with people
involved in J-League basketball, I was able to engage in more in-depth interviews with
65 people (32 women, 33 men). The typical interview lasted about one to three hours and
was audiotaped, although a small handful of interviews were shorter and two were not
audio taped. My youngest interviewee was 15 and my oldest was 83. Fifty-eight of my
55
interviewees identified as Japanese American (including those who were mixed race), six
identified as Chinese American
8
, and one did not identify as Asian American.
I recruited interview subjects through several methods including approaching
people at events, e-mailing participants listed on J-League web sites, and by asking for
referrals from contacts and interviewees. Although referrals helped immensely, I tried
not to rely on them exclusively to avoid interviewing too narrowly, such as within a
single friendship group, team, or organization. Also, referrals often led me to leaders or
exceptional people because these are the types of interviews that people assumed would
be most useful to me. Often when I approached people for an interview, they would say
something like, “You would be better off talking to so-and-so who is more
knowledgeable about the J-Leagues.” There was a certain utility in speaking with leaders
because they tended to have more knowledge and perspective about the organizations,
leagues and events. Thus, I did not completely shy away from following these leads.
However, it did result in an overrepresentation of leaders among my subjects even though
I made an effort to also interview more typical participants. Similarly, I did not shy away
from interviewing exceptional players, such as college-level players, due to my interest in
successful J-League athletes. Nevertheless, this created an overrepresentation of
exceptional players among my subjects, although many average players are also
represented.

8
Although the leagues are traditionally Japanese American, there is a large representation of Chinese
Americans and a few other Asian Americans within the leagues – enough so that many have begun calling
them “Asian Leagues” instead of J-Leagues. Some league rules specify that of the two to three non-
Japanese Americans permitted on a team, some or all must be Chinese American (while others allow a
more expansive list of permitted Asian-American groups). Chinese Americans occupy several leadership
positions within the leagues, demonstrating their level of acceptance and integration.
56
My main criterion for an interviewee was that the person was in some way
connected to or involved with a Japanese-American basketball league or organization
(past or present). I also tried to restrict my sample to those involved in Southern
California (in a few cases, the connection was only a college playing experience).
Finally, I restricted my age-range to participants over twelve. Towards the end of my
research, I began to ask for referrals for participants who seemed to be underrepresented
in my research (different age/sex cohorts, different organizations, etc.). I also included
some peripheral “participants” such as two employees at the Little Tokyo Service Center,
a reporter and editor at the Rafu Shimpo, and the curator of a sport-themed exhibit at the
Japanese American National Museum. See Appendix C for a full list of interviewees.
My interview guide (see appendix A) included questions about the interviewee’s
personal sport history including both J-League and mainstream sport experiences. I also
asked about future goals and plans for their family’s involvement in basketball, their
perspective on trends in the J-Leagues, and their connections to other community
institutions in the Japanese-American community. The interviews were semi-structured:
I used the interview guide as a starting point, but also tried to ask a lot of follow-up
questions and cater the interview to the experiences of the interviewee.
I coded the interviews using the software Atlas.ti. Although this software is
considered a theory-building tool, I only used its (less controversial) code and retrieve
functions (Fielding 2002). I attached codes to particular passages within the interview
transcripts and then later was able to retrieve the data by using a “single-sort” (one code)
or a “multiple sort” (more than one code) (163). For example, when a participant
mentioned that he most enjoyed the social aspects of the J-Leagues, I could code this
57
passage as “social”. By also coding each interview according to interviewee
demographics, I could also code the entire interview as “male” and later retrieve
transcription excerpts of all interviewees who spoke about the social aspects of the J-
Leagues, or restrict my excerpts to only male interviewees.

Fieldwork
To supplement my interview data, I also engaged in a wide variety of
observations (both participant and unobtrusive) at many sites throughout the greater Los
Angeles area. My participant observation with the Little Tokyo Service Center as a
member of the San-Tai-San Tournament committee was my earliest, most intense, and
longest in duration. San-Tai-San (“three-on-three” in Japanese) is a basketball
tournament that started in 1998 for the purpose of drawing attention to a campaign to
build a recreation center in Little Tokyo. I attended meetings over three years 2007-
2009. Each year, the committee in charge of the event held meetings from January
through May (approximately once per month, but more often as the tournament
approached). The tournament occurred in May of each year. As time passed, I became
more and more of a participant observer, taking on tasks in the planning process and on
the day of the event. I tried to keep my volunteer activities from interfering with my
ability to do research, but at times it was impossible due to my inability to be at multiple
locations at once. I took detailed notes at all of the meetings and after the tournaments
and related activities.
My other observations were more spread out, as I tried to soak up a little of
everything that the J-Leagues and the larger Japanese-American community had to offer.
58
Starting in December of 2007, I began observing at J-League games and team practices.
Game observations continued intermittently over the following two years. I also sat in on
planning meetings for the Tigers Youth Club, Nisei Athletic Union (NAU), and Nikkei
Games. I attended several tournaments and related events (2008-2009) including the
Wanjettes, F.O.R., Jets/Jetts, Tigers, and Las Vegas Invitational tournaments. I also
attended Nikkei Games in 2007 and 2008 and San-Tai-San / Children’s Day festivities
from 2006-2009. I attend a meeting/presentation of the Little Tokyo Historical Society
featuring pre-WWII basketball players. Also during this period, I attended high school
and college games featuring Japanese-American players at Marina High School,
University of Southern California, UCLA, and Chapman College. I attended a semi-
professional game featuring Natalie Nakase in San Diego. I attended a Los Angeles
Sparks game against Phoenix when Phoenix had a Japanese national on their team. I
played pickup basketball in two contexts: with some of the (male) staff and volunteers
from the Little Tokyo Service Center (on three occasions) and with a group of women
mainly from the Tigers Youth Club (on two occasions) as described at the beginning of
this section.
More loosely related to basketball, I attended a Nisei Week parade, a Japanese
Cultural Institute carnival, an obon festival at a Westside Buddhist Church, and the Tofu
Festival in Little Tokyo. When I could not attend, I sent family members to audio record
and take pictures at a Little Tokyo rally for the proposed recreation center. Observations
ended in August of 2009. At most of these events – sport and non – I took copious notes
about my experiences and sometimes also took photographs. At other times, I was
59
primarily trying to get a feel for community through the event and only made notes if I
noticed something that seemed related to my research.

Survey
Because I consider myself a primarily qualitative researcher, I undertook a survey
only at the solicitation of one of my interviewees. One of the board members of the
SCWAU league suggested that I design a survey for the women in the league and
indicated that she would also like to see the results. I crafted a survey that the board
member then forwarded to all of the coaches/team leaders and, in turn, asked them to
forward to their players. The survey consisted of a few demographic questions, some
quantifiable questions, and then a number of qualitative questions that resembled several
from my interview guide (See Appendix B). Only 17 SCWAU participants responded,
but I was able to pull out some descriptive statistics by coding some of the short answers
and counting similar responses. I coded the long, open-ended questions in Atlas.ti in the
same fashion as I did the interviews: by open coding for themes. See Appendix C for a
list of survey respondents.

Archival / Content Analysis
Often when a researcher is conducting research through interviews and
observations, it is difficult to verify some of the large-scale trends that emerge. I was
curious, for instance, exactly how many women were coaching in the J-Leagues and how
much coverage that women’s basketball was getting in the Rafu Shimpo. These kinds of
60
questions seemed to be best answered by conducting content analysis on texts created by
the community: tournament programs and newspaper content.
Tournament Programs. Basketball tournaments started to gain momentum in the
J-Leagues in the 1970s and, according to organizers, many are growing larger every year.
Tournament programs list every team participating in the tournament including the names
of player and (when applicable) the coach of the team. I picked the 2006 program from
the largest tournament, the Tigers Tournament, and coded each coach’s name as male,
female, or ambiguous. I then counted the number of women versus men coaching overall
and also looked at the distribution by grade level.
Newspaper Study: The Rafu Shimpo, 2007. In envisioning this research, I
determined that much of the meaning-making surrounding J-League basketball would be
closely related to the negotiation of a collective ethnic identity, which Bacon (1999)
argues is formed in public forums. One important community forum for participants in
the J-Leagues in the Los Angeles area is the local Japanese-American newspaper, The
Rafu Shimpo.
9
Therefore, I chose to analyze the sports pages of The Rafu Shimpo for the
entire year of 2007, corresponding to the start of my ethnographic research.
In analyzing the Rafu Shimpo, I used three somewhat disparate, but I believe
complementary, methods. First, in an effort to test for differences between The Rafu
Shimpo versus trends in mainstream publications, I utilized content analysis to code

9
The Rafu Shimpo is currently the only Japanese American newspaper serving the Los Angeles area.
Founded in 1903, it was originally printed only in Japanese, but became bilingual in 1926. It currently
maintains a circulation of approximately 20,000 and estimates its readership to be at least twice that
number. It very recently expanded its web site to include more content, which may greatly increase its
accessibility. It publishes daily, Tuesday through Saturday, commonly printing four to six pages in English
and eight pages in Japanese. This study examines the English-language sports page, as the overwhelming
majority of participants in the leagues do not read the Japanese-language section which is aimed at more
recent Japanese immigrants.
61
(male/female/both or neutral) and count articles and photographs to establish the
proportion devoted to men’s versus men’s sports (and men’s versus women’s basketball).
Going one step further, I also coded the basketball photographs as posed or active.
Although influenced by studies that use similar methods, I chose my own way of
distinguishing between these photos: if the subject of the photograph smiled or otherwise
posed for the photograph, this was described as “posed”, while if the subject was actively
engaged in a sport-related activity (with no perceptible awareness of the photographer),
this was described as “active.” Because this form of content analysis involves, to a
certain extent, a positivist approach that forces both researcher and reader to focus on
delineated categories, I also implemented a third method that is more in line with a
multiracial feminist perspective. Using textual analysis, I “read” the text of the
basketball feature articles to gain some insight into how the community is producing their
own understandings of power relations (race, class, and gender).
I accessed the newspaper using microfilm at the Los Angeles Public Library and
the University of California Los Angeles Library. Since there is no searchable database
of the paper at this time
10
, it made sense to choose a span of time rather than to search for
particular topics or keywords. I chose the year 2007 because it corresponded to the start
of my larger research project and represented the most current issues available on
microfilm when I started this project.
Within the English-language section of The Rafu Shimpo, a single page is
dedicated to sports coverage in each issue, with the exception of Thursdays when sports

10
At the time of research, The Rafu Shimpo published only a selection of its features on-line
(www.rafushimpo.com), but did not post full content or make a searchable archive available. As of 2009,
there is now a searchable archive available to subscribers, but it only covers the current year.
62
is omitted. Occasionally, the front page or a special insert includes sports coverage, but
these were excluded from the study to maintain consistency. During the year 2007, each
sports page contained anywhere from one to as many as 16 stories or box scores. The
median number of stories was four. I first examined the sports pages of The Rafu Shimpo
from January 1, 2007 until March 31, 2007, reasoning that this is the height of the
basketball season. Later, I gathered data from all of 2007 for comparison.
A note about the Rafu Shimpo. Many of the stories in the paper are reprints from
various sources included The Mainichi
11
, AP Press, and ESPN.com. The Rafu Shimpo
sports editor and other staff writers wrote the remaining articles. Both reprinted and
staff-written stories almost exclusively featured athletes from Japan or of Japanese
descent. Reprinted stories mainly focused on professional athletes (especially baseball
and sumo), whereas stories written by staff reporters were more likely to focus on local
leagues (especially bowling, golf, and basketball). From conversations with the sports
page editor, I learned that readers often make suggestions for local stories, and will send
in send photos or leads. In addition, The Rafu Shimpo has a special relationship to
basketball – the Komai family has not only been the longtime publisher of the newspaper,
but also heavily involved with a Japanese-American men’s league in Los Angeles.

Chapter Descriptions
Chapter Two. Ethnic-based basketball leagues have become important conduit
for the Japanese-American community, especially in Southern California. Chapter two
will describe the structure of the J-Leagues, describing their function in linking other

11
The Mainichi Newspapers Co., Ltd. publishes several newspapers in Japan, including an English-
language news site, The Mainichi Daily News.
63
community institutions that may otherwise have limited reach such as churches,
community centers, and civic organizations. By sponsoring teams (especially youth
teams), individuals from these organizations can interact across organizations.
In this chapter, I argue that the strength of the basketball leagues as a linking
institution lies in its widespread participation, leading to the widespread inclusion of both
sexes. Although there are leagues for all ages, helping to meet this goal, the growth is in
the youth leagues. Since the goal is having every family involved, this necessitates the
inclusion of both sexes. It is imperative that both boys and girls at least try playing in
order to make important friendships and connections with other Japanese Americans.
Because they must have widespread appeal, it is not enough to offer just one
version of basketball. J-Leagues try to accommodate all skill and interest levels.
Therefore, there are often multiple divisions so that players can play at the appropriate
level. For women, some “lower” divisions accommodate more traditionally feminine
gender performances and some “upper” divisions accommodate more traditionally
masculine gender performances. For men, the range of appropriate behavior may be
narrower, but does accommodate lower skilled and older men. The existence of coed
leagues means even more options for play and more room for diverse gender
performances – even men wearing tights.
The leagues are gender-inclusive, but not egalitarian. Leadership (coaches,
commissioners) are predominantly men. There are still more boys and men playing than
girls and women. However, there are signs that this may be shifting, or have a degree of
flexibility. For example, there are a number of women who coach boys’ and men’s
teams, and this may be increasing and there is a growing popularity of coed leagues.
64
Chapter Three. Over its long history, organized basketball in the Japanese-
American community has provided opportunities for Japanese Americans to become
skilled basketball players. These skills have often translated well in mainstream contexts,
allowing many of the players trained in the J-Leagues to excel in school sports at the high
school level and beyond. In the last forty years, early and consistent year around play in
the J-Leagues as well as emergent “club” traveling teams have kept Japanese Americans
competitive. Moreover, in many eras (and perhaps still today), the J-Leagues offer
Japanese-American girls training they often cannot find elsewhere. During the early
years of Title IX
12
, many Japanese-American women dominated in mainstream
basketball environments. Now, women consistently play in local colleges and
universities, and some have had great success that in most cases surpasses the men’s
achievements. The community has taken notice and used these women as icons and role
models. They enjoy newspaper coverage and make appearances as special guests at
community events.
In this chapter, I argue that Japanese Americans may even appreciate their female
basketball stars more than their men – predominantly because the women have been
consistently more successful, but also because they offer a “nicer” role model. The
women tend to give back to the community, be good students, and are seen as ideal
community members. Moreover, since many of them are relatively short, they represent
a collective identity for the community – they are the underdogs in the game of basketball
as many Japanese Americans may feel about themselves as both Japanese Americans and

12
Title IX is an amendment to the Higher Education Act passed by the United States Congress in 1972. It
reads “No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, or denied
the benefits of, or subjected to discrimination under any educational program or activity receiving federal
aid” (Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972, vol. 20 U.S.C. sec. 1681).
65
as Asian Americans. These star female basketball players have become symbolic
resources for the community in forming a collective identity around basketball.
Chapter Four. This chapter takes the idea of “doing” gender, race, and class and
applies it to intra-group versus out-group interactions for J-League participants. In the
leagues, it’s normal to play basketball, even assumed that everyone is involved, male or
female. Outside of the leagues, Japanese Americans run into some surprise and even
discrimination. Particularly women face a “triple threat” to their identity as a basketball
player – their race, their gender, and their height make them an unlikely basketball player
in many non-Japanese-American eyes. The J-Leagues allow the players to be more
actively resistant to controlling images regarding both Asians and women.
In this chapter, height is also discussed as both a mediating factor and a
euphemism for perceived sport limitations due to being female or Asian American. As a
mediator in race and gender relations, height seems to amplify the salience of an identity
that is perceived incongruent with the mainstream basketball context. As a euphemism, it
allows all parties to speak about race and gender without actually using those terms.
Japanese Americans can discuss difficulties or feelings of being an underdog without
mentioning race or gender. They can also explain away reactions to them that may be
racist or sexist as being about height, not race or gender. Non-Japanese Americans
appear to be able to use comments about height to try and exclude female bodies and
Asian bodies from sport spaces.
66
CHAPTER TWO: “A Common Denominator, A Common Connection”: Basketball
and Community Inclusion

It’s August 18
th
, 2007 in Long Beach, California. Dozens of children march into
“The Pyramid”, the official gymnasium of California State University, Long Beach.
They march in groups, with leaders holding signs atop long wood poles. I try to note
some of the names on the signs:
Evergreen Church, Jets/Jetts, Norwalk Youth Sports, Orange Coast
Optimist Club, Orange County Buddhist Church, Saber/Saberettes, San
Fernando Athletic Association, South Bay F.O.R., SOC Youth Group,
Tigers, Venice Youth Council, VFW Youth Group, Wintersburg
Presbyterian Church, Nikkei.

As each group marches past the awaiting audience full of family and community
members, an announcer provides some information about the groups represented. The
announcer tells us, for example, that the Orange County Optimist Club is the largest
Optimist Club in the United States. Venice Youth Council is a community center that
once only provided boys’ teams until the 1960s when girls were included. Wintersburg
Presbyterian Church has been a Japanese American church since 1930.
Once the children file in and sit down on the gymnasium floor, a former Nisei
Week Queen sings the National Anthem. Wallace Chan, Chairperson of the Nikkei
Games Tournament, steps to the center of the gym and addresses the crowd: “Why
Nikkei Games? For kids and families, to celebrate the traditions of our past, and to help
the Nikkei Community thrive.” Three speakers follow him, each attempting to motivate
the children: a female lawyer, the founder of F.O.R. (a sports organization), a successful
local high school coach. Then the youth take over, demonstrating their dribbling (and
67
dancing) moves to popular music. It’s a show! A few more short speeches, and then the
current Nisei Week Royalty present medals to event sponsors (local businesses). Finally,
the opening ceremonies end with a performance by Taiko drummers.
Nikkei Games involves ten sports and 3200 participants in Los Angeles and
Orange Counties. It may be the largest Nikkei sports festival. The basketball tournament
alone has 89 divisions, 356 teams, and 1400 participants. The popularity of basketball is
most likely why the event’s opening ceremonies are held at the basketball facility in
between some intense three-on-three competitions. This is the 14
th
year of Nikkei Games.
However, these games have a longer history. In 1928, the “forefathers” of the Japanese-
American community started what was once called the Junior Olympics or Nisei Relays.
Although these games have changed names and formats over the years, and there were
periods when they were not held, Nikkei Games represents a reclaiming of this sports
tradition.
Nikkei Games is unique in its wide variety of sports competitions and its level of
opening ceremony fanfare, but the basketball events represent just one of many annual
Japanese-American basketball tournaments held during the “tournament season” (late
spring to early fall). These tournaments are a dominant way that basketball helps to bring
together the larger Japanese-American community. As the most popular and widespread
sport, basketball has become the practice around which Japanese Americans engage in
multiple layers of community-building. The opening ceremony of Nikkei Games
illustrates this best – basketball is not just the coming together of individuals, but also the
convergence of teams, families, community leaders, businesses and community
institutions. Perhaps most importantly, the opening ceremonies display the affiliations
68
and talents of the youth in the community. The organizations represented by the signs in
the mini-parade of children are all ones that sponsor youth athletic teams. These youth
represent a thriving component of basketball participation among Japanese Americans.
In this chapter, I will describe how Japanese Americans in Southern California
engage in “community of practice” (Wenger 1998) through the institution of J-League
basketball. I will argue that the importance of the J-League lies in its strength in uniting
disparate elements of the community, giving community members a clear goal to focus
on in building and maintaining community ties. The institution of the J-Leagues –
including basketball leagues, tournaments, and related activities – is built (and
continually reconfigured) to help facilitate feelings of friendship and kinship amongst
Japanese Americans. The current patterns highlight the importance of accommodating
the diversity within the community, proving spaces where a wide range of people can
participate. The upshot of this strategy is a sport institution that is very inclusive towards
girls and women, producing a unique gender regime and unique gender practices. Within
the J-Leagues, the structure and practices that sustain “community” simultaneously
produce a gender-inclusive environment and egalitarian ideas about female athleticism.

A Community of Practice
Japanese Americans are linked by a common ethnicity, and many also share
common current and historical experiences, but these ties are actually rather fragile since
this population is not restricted to an ethnic enclave and, as multigenerational Americans,
Japanese Americans represent a diversity of interests and varying degrees of
connectedness to Japanese culture. If Japanese Americans engage in the Japanese-
69
American community, they may do so in any number of ways and in a number of
different geographical locations, thus dispersing the impact of their community
participation and minimizing their sense of ethnic solidarity. Basketball participation
represents just one of the myriad of ways one is able to connect to other Japanese
Americans, but because the basketball networks are so widespread and integrally
connected to key community organizations, basketball has evolved to become perhaps the
strongest shared experience among Japanese Americans, particularly in California.
Basketball’s link to community institutions is one way that its effects reverberate
throughout the Japanese-American community. Although it is possible to participate in
some leagues and tournaments as an independent team, the majority of teams are
connected to organizations. Many of these organizations represent institutions that one
would normally associate with community-building, such as churches, community
centers, and civic organizations. Others are purely athletic organizations, created
specifically for the purpose of organizing teams for leagues and tournaments. The Nikkei
Games opening ceremonies provides a visual representation of how members from these
organizations gather at tournaments not only to play basketball, but to represent their
organizations and form bonds with individuals from other organizations. Figure 3 - 1
illustrates some of the various organizations that are linked by basketball in the
community:
70

Figure 3 - 1: Community Organizations Linked by Basketball Leagues

Although each of these organizations have their own role in linking Japanese
Americans through common interests, beliefs, and practices, the above model hints at the
diversity of these interests, beliefs, and practices. When a community does not share a
common religion, a universal interest in learning ikebana (Japanese flower-arranging) at a
Japanese-American community center, or membership in a single business or veteran’s
organizations, what is the common connection that can provide opportunities and spaces
for all Japanese Americans to feel a sense of group connection? In this case, basketball
appears to fill that role.
Not everyone plays basketball, of course. This is why the connections to
institutions are a principal way that J-Leagues foster Japanese American connections.
For instance, attending a local Buddhist church may be the only contact a particular
Community
Centers
Buddhist
Churches
Protestant
Churches
Optimist Clubs
VFW
Organizations
Sport
Organizations
Basketball
Leagues and
Tournaments
71
Japanese American has with his co-ethnics. However, it is inevitable someone he knows
at the Buddhist church has a child playing on the church basketball team. Even if this
person is not directly involved with basketball, he will most likely speak about basketball
with fellow church-goers. Moreover, this may lead him to eventually become involved
directly as a sponsor, coach, organizer, spectator, or player. Basketball also has an
advantage of having a long tradition within the community, thus support and
encouragement from the older generations (who often played themselves) at the youth
level integrates children into the community at an early age. Parents may join
organizations solely for the sports teams offered for their children.
Therefore, it appears that Japanese Americans are moving from a more traditional
ethnic community to a “community of practice” (Wenger 1998). Although this is a
concept Wenger used for thinking about group-based learning, I believe it can be usefully
applied to Japanese Americans’ patterns of community building around basketball. A
community of practice involves: 1) joint enterprise (goal/project), 2) shared repertoire
(shared meaning), and 3) mutual engagement (engaged in actions that are meaningful and
fulfill the goals of the enterprise). Basketball fits this model because Japanese Americans
engage in the sport in a way that is both meaningful and instrumental. Most Japanese
Americans already have a sense of ethnic, historical, and experiential kinship to build
from, so basketball is able to borrow from these pre-existing meanings since it is
considered a community-exclusive activity (not purely, but symbolically at the very
least). The Nikkei Games chairperson is able to speak about “forefathers” and “tradition”
in his speech at the opening ceremonies, a reference to these shared meanings associated
with basketball. The practice of putting together basketball teams, leagues and
72
tournaments represent an ongoing series of joint enterprises that require mutual
engagement. These practices involve an enormous amount of volunteer hours.
Therefore, the enterprise of basketball unites many in the community to share in the
projects and goals of basketball-related activities, and many more to participate in the
fruits of the volunteers’ labor. People are willing to put in the time and energy because of
the meanings connected to it, but also because at a basic level they understand the social
networks they draw from it. Although the meaning is there, the activity itself (and the
social contacts it engenders) becomes the focus and impetus behind community contact.
Important to the relatively dispersed Japanese Americans, a community of practice does
not require members to reside in the same neighborhoods. It helps that they live in
general proximity to one another, especially for league play, but many travel several
hours to tournaments. Southern Californians, for example, frequently make the trek for
weekend tournaments in Northern California and vice versa. There are also two very
popular tournaments held in Las Vegas each year.

“Like family”: Building Relationships through Basketball
Why is a sport such as basketball such a useful way to link community members
and community institutions? In her book, Protecting Home, Sherri Grasmuck (2005)
speaks about youth baseball as an ideal game for integrating a geographically-based
community. With its long games, baseball provides opportunities for parents to meet on
the bleachers and share in the experience of their children’s successes and struggles.
Even parents from very different racial/ethnic and class backgrounds find themselves
making friends. She explains:
73
On the bleachers, parents share that baseball “suspension of time.” In
contrast, parents who sit together watching basketball do not get the same
opportunities. In basketball, too much happens against the pressure of the
clock. The same is true for soccer. So, it mattered that it was baseball.
Because it was baseball, we waited, and hoped together, and experienced
moments of communion, pain and redemption in the process. (43).

Grasmuck goes on to explain that since baseball leagues often require that players change
teams every year, a remixing of players occurs. Grasmuck argues that after several years,
a parent has crossed paths with many other parents from the neighborhood through
continued participation in the league, giving them the opportunity to make contacts and
friendships with numerous families.
Grasmuck (2005) makes some very compelling points about the idealness of
baseball for the purpose of creating community connections. However, it may be that
many different sports could serve in this role, especially with the help of “creative
engineering” in and around the organization and practice of the sport. Perhaps because
there are not as many gaps to bridge in terms of background, Japanese Americans
involved in the basketball leagues practice community-building not only during the
confines of individual contests, but also in the activities that both sustain and augment
these activities.
At the team level, several practices have emerged in the J-Leagues that encourage
the bonding of team members and their families. For example, participants in the J-
Leagues did not often talk about socializing on the bleachers, but they frequently
mentioned post-game “snacks”:
I think one thing you’re going to hear a lot about is post-game snacks.
That was always… you now, in the rec leagues, someone would just buy
those big Costco packs of chips and sodas. That was it. [In the J-
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Leagues] some teams, it’s almost like a picnic or a potluck, pulling on
tailgates, having frys – just spreads of all kinds of food. (Jake)

According to Jake, post-game snacks in the J-Leagues (usually provided by mothers on a
rotating basis) are considerably more elaborate than what might be found in a typical
recreation league. Although the extent of the snacks may stem from competition among
families or mothers “doing gender”, the result was an atmosphere of a “picnic or
potluck,” providing space for both players and parents to enjoy eating and socializing
together. However, some mothers did not appreciate the extra effort required to provide
“snacks” for the team:
Because I am the mom … It doesn’t necessarily fall on the dad … there is
still that division, that sexist division. I mean, it was grueling to have to
come up with what creative fabulous thing are you going to provide and so
I was very glad when our team said yeah, just bring your own drinks.
What was even greater was that this team always went out to eat
afterwards. Let’s just go have dinner together. (Debbie).

Feeling burdened by the expectation of elaborate post-game “snacks,” Debbie and other
parents spoke up on one of her son’s teams and suggested that they skip the communal
snacks. However, she suggested another activity, going out to eat together as a team, to
make up for any lost social opportunity surrounding snacks. Other teams in the J-
Leagues appear to follow this alternative or additional practice of socializing outside of
basketball. Sandra described this as one way that the teams became “like family”:
Going out to eat, celebrating birthdays or anniversaries or something
together as a team or stuff like that. It becomes more like family other
than just friends … Once you’re on the team, everybody kind of just, you
know, kind of accepts everybody on the team and stuff like that … like
[names teammate], when they were having the VFW tournament which is
down in Orange County, I think nearby their own house. “Come to my
house after the game, bring the food over, just drop it off and then you can
go to the game, then we’ll come back, then we’ll eat and go to the next
game.”
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Sharing food and celebrating occasions together both seem to be prominent aspects of J-
League basketball teams. Having these extra opportunities to socialize provided the basis
of very strong friendships and oftentimes lifelong ties to teammates and their families.
The idea is that can we come together for one thing and enjoy that. It’s
not necessary to have the same opinion about it, but you know, feel good
about it. You know, come, play for an hour, have refreshments, go to
lunch after or something. Ah, we got a couple of funny things out of that
day, and laugh about those things 35 years from now. I think that’s great.
(Rebecca)

Rebecca illustrates that the practice of both playing together and socializing together
provide shared memories that help to bind the team members for many years into the
future. This may be friendship and community-building at a different level than
Grasmuck describes.
An element that Grasmuck (2005) identifies as helpful to community-building,
the remixing of teams, is far rarer in the J-League where teams tend to stay together over
the years. Certainly, players leave and others join, but many of my interviewees
expressed an idealization of teams that are able to stay together, particularly if this
involved playing together into adulthood. As my interviews with participants
demonstrate, people cherish how the leagues facilitate the development of lifelong
friendships with teammates. For Maggie, keeping the team together was part of the
process of maintaining these friendships:
‘Cause there was like a big group of us that we got a team together, like
right during high school, maybe our senior year or something. We played
in this tournament, this North-South Tournament, and we’ve been together
ever since. Maybe there’s been a couple that came like right after, but for
the most part we’ve been playing together for twelve years now. So, you
know, these are like my closest friends now, and we get together all the
time, and we celebrate birthdays. For us now it’s more like we’d rather
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get together than go play basketball. But that is the one thing that keeps us
together, that’s our common bond, and it makes us see each other, and
stuff like that. I love that. Cause like my sister, she played for a little
while, but she’s very, she’s uncoordinated and unathletic, but she doesn’t
have those same friends. So I don’t know, that’s the one thing that’s
positive for me, the team.

Although Maggie and her teammate’s enthusiasm for basketball may have waned over
the years, they still like to play together because basketball represents a “bond” between
them. It’s a sustained engagement that brings them together. Although her team was one
that formed in her late teens, it is also a team that has lasted several years. Oftentimes the
bonding process starts with even younger teams. For example, Nick described, “Every
Friday we’d have practice, and after every practice we’d all go out to dinner. And this all
started when we were kindergarteners, little four-feet-tall kids barely able to make a
basketball into that hoop.” Nick continued to play with this team throughout his
childhood. Players did not always find a lasting bond with the very first team they played
with, but many eventually found a team (or teams) that were special to them. These were
bonds that often kept them involved well into adulthood.
Teams did not always stay together, of course. For some it was more of an ideal
than a reality. Renee described admiring teams that stayed close over the years:
It’s really cool how now I see some of them, some of the teams, they are
still close. Personally, some of my – we kind of grew apart, but some of
the teams that we played, they started from sixth grade and they’re still
playing together. That’s when I’m just like, ‘“Wow, that’s awesome,” to
keep those ties, keep those friendships going.

Although Renee had observed teams she had played against staying together over the
years, she herself had lost some of the connections with her early teams. This was a
common story for players who had moved or become intensively involved in mainstream
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basketball. Another issue that sometimes affected teams’ solidarity was recruiting. Even
though there are some rules that try to prevent it, recruiting is not absent from the
leagues. Tim described his experience:
I was a traitor. I think about junior high, our team was – we were good for
a while, and then I think people kind of split off and the age groups
diverged, and then I kind of got recruited by other teams … The whole
changing to another team, I got some flak from my old teammates. They
called me a traitor. Some people I think got a little annoyed, but it worked
out for me. I’m sure other people might have had that experience, too.

For Tim, leaving his childhood team did result in some temporary social backlash from
his old teammates, demonstrating that team solidarity is the social norm. However, he
still continues to play in the leagues as an adult and it sounds like most former teammates
now see his earlier transgressions as water under the bridge.
A few players mentioned preferring J-Leagues to YMCA or parks and recreation
leagues precisely because of this issue of switching teams. Bob coaches a boys’ team and
said:
I mean when you play in the rec league, the rec league only lasts eight
weeks, ten weeks tops. That’s it. And then, see you later. Versus the
league or organization that we’re in now, I see these boys once a week,
twice a week, we play in a league that’s year round. We continue to play,
you know. And that’s the difference when you’re playing rec and versus
an organizational type of league. You play all the time, and you get to
work on those skills and those skills get better and better.

According to Bob, the parks and recreation leagues tend to be transitory and therefore
less favorable for developing the players’ skills. Tim thought that the J-Leagues were
also more conducive to family involvement than the parks and recreation leagues:
I think with the Japanese American organizations, it’s kind of like
inherent. You know that’s what’s expected and what’s gonna be there.
People take care of each other. They always have good food out there.
Whereas the park and rec league, there’s more parents that drop their kids
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off. It’s more just for the kids, whereas with the Japanese American
leagues, it’s more family versus just the kids.

In Tim’s view, the J-Leagues brought family members into the fold of team cohesion.
Since the J-Leagues are restricted by ethnic and racial criteria, this may have helped build
a sense of knowing what to expect and a feeling that people are there to “take care of
each other.” Building on that, teams tend to stay together often throughout the year and
then continuously for many years in a row, only strengthening friendships and team
bonds. Post-game snacks or meals and other socializing off the court provide a space to
for players and their families to interact and reaffirm these connections. Overall,
interviewees often described their teams as “like a family.”
The Tigers’ team I play with now, they’re like my second family. We
hang out pretty much – we hang out every weekend. Four of them were
my bridesmaids. They’re my closest friends. And even the ones from my
first team, we’re so close. (Grace)

Even though Grace had participated on two teams within the J-Leagues, she had formed
bonds with players from both – close enough bonds to feel like her fellow teammates
were her “second family.” Ethan described how he became close with his teammates and
also with their families: “I got close with the guys. We wouldn’t just play ball with each
other, we’d sleep over at each other’s house. So we knew everyone’s family really well
in that sense.”
In addition to the typical J-League team, there are two “all-star” type teams that
seem to be very conducive to creating lasting team bonds. The first is Yonsei
13
(meaning
“fourth generation”). In 1992, two individuals active in the CYC boys’ basketball league
started the Yonsei program where a group of young Japanese-American players (13-year-

13
Yonsei = Fourth generation Japanese American.
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olds) from Southern California travel to Japan to play basketball against Japanese teams.
The first year, the founders hand-selected a boys’ team, but after they decided to continue
the program, a committee began selecting two teams each year, one all-girl and the other
all-boy. The process now requires an application, interview, and try-outs. Once selected,
the teams practice and fundraise together before their trip. Between the preparation and
the trip itself, these 24 players and their families often become close. Many interviewees
who participated in Yonsei continued to play with some or all of their teammates in
leagues or tournaments. For example, at the 2009 Jets/Jetts Tournament, co-ed
competition included several teams with names such as “Yonsei 11,” reflecting the year
of their participation. The single-sex teams blended into one co-ed team for the
tournament. For Nick, age 15, the trip was still fresh in his mind:
I have the best of friends on that team. We play tournaments … together.
We only see each other once a month for practices, maybe a little more
often than that if we go see a movie, just because we haven’t seen them.
We just had a tournament up in San Francisco about three weeks ago,
maybe, and that was – we spent all our time with each other, because we
don’t see each other that often … I have a MySpace, and I think six of
them are in my top twelve. Because they just mean so much to me. I
know that I can count on them and I know that they’ll always be there for
me. I think we had a year of practices. We had one week in August
where we practiced every day for a whole week. We left for Japan in the
middle of August, eleven hour plane flight, which is really-I think that’s
where we did a lot of our bonding, because we were all sitting next to each
other … [In Japan,] I think the only time we didn’t spend with each other
was when we were sleeping. And even then … we spent every night, till
about one or two o’clock, in each others’ rooms … So we spent so much
time with each other, you can’t not become friends in that kind of a
situation … We’re still great friends, and I think we’ll still be great friends
in a couple years … Before the trials, I never knew some of these people.
There were kids out there that I’d never seen before, never met them
before, never even played basketball against them before. After this, I
know all of them. I can tell you their strengths and weaknesses. I can tell
you what kind of a person they are. I can tell you what color socks they
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wear when they play basketball. We spent so much time together that we
just know each other almost way too well.

The Yonsei experience was very significant to Nick and other participants, but since
many of the players live more than an hour away from Nick and his family, tournaments
provide a space where the Yonsei group could meet and play together, keeping their
connections fresh.
Another similar situation evolves when high school all-star teams are created
from the J-Leagues for the North-South Tournament. The Southern California and
Northern California basketball communities each pick teams for each high school grade-
level to face off at this tournament. The tournament location alternates between Northern
and Southern California. These teams practice together and travel together, often
creating lasting bonds. Maggie described her experience: “We played in this tournament,
this North-South Tournament, and we’ve been together ever since … So, these are like
my closest friends.” This tournament also becomes a showcase of players who will likely
play in college.

Expanding Networks beyond Teams
Whereas lifelong friendships may develop between teammates and their families,
the greater expansion of networks occurs when individuals and teams get together at
larger functions – in particular, tournaments. Interactions at tournaments can occur
through volunteering, competition (making friends with rivals), and socializing during
activities related to sporting events. Tournaments often included overnight stays at hotels
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and an expansive array of both organized and spontaneous activities among tournament
participants.
One of the biggest tournaments is the Tigers Tournament, organized by the Tigers
Youth Club (athletic organization). Held during Memorial Day Weekend, it is a multi-
day event. Games are held at local gymnasiums, while most non-basketball events are
held at a large hotel where a majority of the participants stay. Teams from all over the
state of California (and sometimes beyond) attend the Tigers Tournament for the
opportunity to compete and socialize with other Japanese Americans. One of the co-
chairs of the tournament, Mas, described an upcoming 2008 Tigers Tournament:
This year we have 513 teams playing. It’s probably the biggest one
because we have men’s, women’s, boys’, girls’, as well as a master’s
division for the men over 40 … The tournament actually starts during the
week for the men’s master’s division, and then all the other games are
played on the weekend. So it’s gotten pretty big. We have a golf
tournament now, this is our third year. We also have the dance and bingo.
So those are all good things. The dance, we’ve been told that the dance
for the kids, they just think that’s the best dance. So that’s been kind of
good. It’s all the different functions we have together.

When I asked more about the dance, he continued, “It’s big. I think last year we had a
little over 800 kids that went in. We’re trying to see if the hotel can accommodate a little
bit more, because we turned people away at the door.” The Tigers tournament and its
related events are hugely popular. The sports organization is able to run its entire
operation almost solely based on the revenues gained over the tournament weekend from
tournament entry fees, dance tickets, bingo, raffles, sales of tournament programs, and
sponsorship/program advertising. Mas described how the funds are spent:
Basically, it runs the club for a year. Tigers, I think we give them the best
deal around. We charge $85 for a member, and that’s your dues for the
whole year. And then from there, the club will pay for a league, for the
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girls it’s JAO, for the boys it’s CYC. So we pay for that league. Now,
most of these leagues, they’re running $600, $700, $800 for the season.
So let’s say you’ve got 10 players, basically your membership dues is
covering just that. On top of that, we pay for two tournaments. Most of
these we cap it at $350. So basically you get two more tournaments. For
$700, you’re basically getting that free, too. The only thing we ask the
parents to do is work this weekend for the tournament. It seems to work.

In addition, the organization is able to offer scholarships to graduating high school
seniors who have played within the organization. Tournaments such as the Tigers
Tournament are huge social events as well as fundraising opportunities for the
organizations that sponsor teams. Requiring parents to volunteer during the tournament
also facilitates social interactions and an investment in the organization.
Basketball tournaments set the stage for multiple socializing and networking
opportunities, but how does this mingling work on the ground? For the children, it is a
chance to make friends. Tim recalled, “When you’re young, you get to stay in a hotel
and it’s a great time. Everyone’s going off running around going crazy. That was, like, a
blast. Dude, it’s like you’re on a vacation with just your family and friends, but it’s kind
of like, you go away to camp and all the other kids are there.” Nick described making
connections, as well:
The Tigers Tournament … There was one kid out there shooting free
throws before our game, and I don’t understand why I do this, but I just go
over to people and I will literally sometimes go, “Hey, I’m Nick.” And
this is one of those cases where I just went up and started shooting around
with him and we just got to meet each other. And then in Vegas we stayed
at the same hotel, and ever since then, we were just close. So, every time
at a tournament, I would go see their games. I actually played with them
this summer, because they needed some extra players, so I played with
them one game because they were short-handed. This upcoming
tournament we have a pretty good chance of playing them also. It’s so
much fun. You see all your friends. I know I’ve said this probably eight
times by now, but I can’t explain it in words well enough to describe how
strong these friendships are sometimes. This is just one of those cases.
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Both Tim and Nick found the environment at tournaments conducive to making and
sustaining friendships. Players often see the same friends at multiple tournaments or at
the same tournament each year. Tournaments provide opportunities to meet up with
favorite rivals, watch friend’s games, and also to remix with new teammates. As Nick
described, he sometimes plays at tournaments with players who are not from his league
team. Although most tournaments feature typical five-on-five competition, there are
tournaments where three-on-three basketball is the standard or where there are co-ed
divisions. These more unique forms of play invite or even require the blending of players
into new team configurations, promoting the expansion of networks for players. Wallace
Chan, a co-chair of the Nikkei Games basketball tournament, felt that this integration of
players from different organizations was a key part of the tournament’s philosophy:
In the Nikkei Games, you don’t have to play with your team. You can
play with your friends who are from another organization, so we have
Tiger people playing with FOR people, playing with OCO people. That’s
part of the extension of the friendship we talked about, that we tried to
embrace.

Leaders such as Chan who plan the tournaments appear to view their purpose as more
than logistical, but also as facilitators of an environment that allow for an “extension” of
friendships.
Tournaments have the capacity to serve as a space for creating new connections,
but they were also a space for reinforcing existing networks. Adults describe the
tournaments as “like a reunion.” This is especially true of one of the extremely popular
tournaments held in Las Vegas, Nevada. During the adults-only tournament held each
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September, at least 2,000 people book hotel rooms through the tournament web site.
Laura described her experience:
The tournaments, it’s amazing like how many people you see and just, you
know, you haven’t seen them in years, since I was a kid. It’s just like a
huge … reunion. Sometimes you’re like, oh, I don’t want to go just
because you know you’re going to run into tens of millions of people and
you have to stop and say hi to everybody. You can’t act like you don’t
know them. But that’s how like Vegas is, because everyone stays in, they
have like two hotels where pretty much everyone stays, and you know
you’re going to run into people. So, it’s like just going from one casino
from California to Main Street, there’s that hallway, you’re going to see
probably like twenty people that you know. It’s kind of like, everyone
knows everyone.

Laura describes Las Vegas as almost overwhelming, running into so many people who
she knows. Because the tournament saves rooms in two particular casinos, it’s very
likely to see other tournament participants and fans in the off hours. The casinos actually
offer those that book during this weekend a free weekend later in the year, providing a
second, basketball-free reunion for those who wish to return. Although most participants
I talked to make the Vegas tournament a yearly event, some reunite an old team precisely
to create a long-awaited reunion:
I’m still friends with a lot of the girls I played with back then. This last
season actually, we haven’t played for like 17 years a bunch of us, we put
a team together we played a Las Vegas tournament that was more like a
reunion and more totally for fun, you know but that was great. (Rebecca)

Rebecca had the opportunity to play with some friends who had not played together in
many years by organizing a team for the Las Vegas tournament. Basketball became the
conduit for seeing old friends.
Although it was mainly younger adults that spoke up in interviews about the Las
Vegas tournaments, they also mentioned that many older adults attend as well. Some go
85
to watch a child play or a friend’s child. Others are still playing, as I will discuss later in
the chapter. The tournament becomes the excuse for over two thousand Japanese
Americans to converge on Downtown Las Vegas at the same time and enjoy a reunion-
like atmosphere in the adult playground of Las Vegas.

Family Connections
As discussed, many J-League teams engender feelings of family connections
between players and parents who are not actually related. What also emerged in the
research was that “real” families also use the J-Leagues to solidify bonds, especially
among extended family. Jake described his family’s experiences at tournaments:
I think it’s that family bonding we have … a lot of our extended family
that we’re close with are all playing J-leagues, for like Tigers Tournament.
So, for the big ones, my mom would just have the [tournament] book and
then, just tabs all over so we know when each of the cousins’ games are.
We just spend the whole weekend just driving to the games … So, we’d
always have pretty big cheering sections. That’s why it’s always fun with
the Nisei Week Tournament – we’ll have huge cheering sections, since the
whole family comes out for that one. My mom’s extended family is pretty
big.

Keith explained how he came to play on three teams:
We have this family team kind of where it’s just all comprised of cousins
and, you know, friends, growing up through college. So they’re like
cousins and brothers … I started playing with them, my cousin asked me,
like, “Hey, I’ve got this other team that I’m playing on, we need a player”
… Then they asked me to play all the time, so I was playing two games
and then he asked me to play in another league …

I asked Keith if he saw his family more because of playing on a team with them. He said:
Definitely. I didn’t talk to the cousin who got me into … playing down
here … until I mean, like um, probably sophomore year of college, and
before that, we had a family reunion probably eight years before that. So,
I hadn’t really talked to any of the family out here, and now I see them
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almost every week, which is great. I mean, it’s nice knowing that I have
family close around here that I’m actually close to now.

From interviews and observations, I gathered that it is fairly common to be pulled into a
team for league or tournament play because a cousin, sibling, or in-law invited you to
play. Another draw towards family-based teams was the desire to play with one’s child.
Several parents I interviewed spoke of trying to keep active in basketball at least until
their son or daughter was eligible to play in the adult leagues with them. For example,
Sandra explained her desire to play with her daughter, “It’s kind of like, one of those
almost milestones, you know, this would be kind of neat to play a couple years with your
daughter … There’s quite a few of the moms who have done that.” Among my
interviewees, this trend followed a single-sex pattern – fathers expressed an interest in
playing with sons while mothers wanted to play with daughters. Coed leagues and
tournament divisions are becoming more popular and widespread, but tend to cater to
teens and young adults, probably because for many this is a primary time for socializing
with members of the opposite sex. Therefore, I heard more about playing co-ed with
girlfriends/boyfriends and spouses and occasionally with opposite sex siblings than I did
about father/daughter or mother/son pairs.
So, not only do the J-Leagues produce a sense of family amongst Japanese
Americans, but they bring actual families closer together. The idea of playing with
family appears to only be gaining in popularity. At a committee meeting planning the
2008 Nikkei Games, committee members proposed the addition of a family-only division
within the basketball tournament. Although it did not gain momentum for that year, the
idea garnered approval from many at the meeting.
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The Desire for It to Go On
We’re trying to build the sense that you don’t have to lose this connection
to your culture and your heritage. But it’s not something that’s frozen in
the past, it’s something that’s contemporary and hopefully you will want
to pass on to your children. (Jack)

Given the family-like atmosphere, access to networks, and positive interactions
that many Japanese Americans experience within the J-Leagues and their affiliated
events, there is a distinct sense that participants want to pass along the experience to the
next generation. One way this is demonstrated is through the ethic and practice of
“giving back.” Giving back generally involves volunteering for a league or organization
affiliated with basketball, as leagues and tournaments are organized purely with volunteer
labor. When asked why this ethic exists, Jake responded, “It’s just something where you
grew up with that and you want to make sure it continues.” Sarah elaborated on this
thought, explaining why she coaches at the community center where she grew up playing:
I think, just from my personal experience and playing, I’ve had so much
fun. I met tons of people, and, you know, I’ve gained a lot from just
playing … I wanted these kids to kind of have the same experience I had,
and be able to keep up this… like… tradition, or… I don’t know, you
know? I hope one day to see, like, my kids … involved with something
like this as well.

Both Jake and Sarah had such positive experiences with the J-Leagues that they felt
personally responsible for providing that experience for others. Like Sarah, many other
participants expressed that it was important to have their own children involved in J-
League basketball:
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Emily: I think I’ll definitely want my kids to play some kind of organized
team sport, preferably basketball. My daughter and my son are-hopefully
they’ll both play. I’ll give them both the same opportunities.

Nicole: Is it important that they play in the J-Leagues?

Emily: Yeah, that’s very important for me, for both my husband and [me],
just because we pretty much both grew up – my husband grew up playing
J-Leagues, too … I think we both agree that – I still keep in contact with
most, if not all of my friends from basketball, and it’s a huge part of our
lives. We’re really excited for that time when we can take [our children] to
their games and eat refreshments afterwards and commune with the other
parents. My mom is still in touch with all the parents that I grew up with,
and we’re attending each others’ weddings. I’m the only one, really, with
kids, but I’m sure when they started having kids, I’ll see those, too. It’s
created a real close-knit family. It’s a very small-feeling community.

For Emily, getting her own children involved in the J-Leagues is an extension of the
bonds she’s created through her own playing experiences. She witnessed her mother’s
experience of making friends with the parents of her teammates and she hopes to
replicate that by reinvigorating friendships with old teammates who also have children, as
well as making new friendships with the parents of her children’s teammates.
Being a part of the Japanese-American community is important to many Japanese
Americans, particularly those living in California. Many participants in the J-Leagues
value the role that basketball plays in bringing the community together. Therefore, it
becomes important to make sure the leagues continue and that their friends and family
stay involved. A common belief among participants – almost invisible, as it is just
understood – is that all community members should be involved. If the J-Leagues were
limited to just youth, just boys, or just talented players, this would restrict how many
could participate. Therefore, a community identity is forming around basketball that
emphasizes making long term commitments both to playing and volunteering as well as
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one that is committed to providing spaces for a wide-variety of participation, particularly
for both sexes and also for a wide-range of ages.

Theorizing Community and Sport
The place of basketball in the Japanese-American community as both a site of
communal practice, as well as the formation of community identity, is clearly illustrative
of the social construction of ethnicity (Nagel 1994). Ethnicity is also influenced by
structural factors such as immigration, resource competition, and political access, and
ethnic groups have historical and cultural ties that can help to bond them. Ethnicity can
also involve individual identity and agency. However, Nagel (1994) argues that none of
these factors alone is more important than the way that they are currently interpreted and
experienced by people both inside and outside of the ethnic group. Rather than seeing
ethnicity as static, Nagel stresses the importance of looking at the processes of ethnic
formation.
Building on Nagel’s (1994) idea that the existence and content of ethnicity and
ethnic community are a matter of how influential factors are interpreted and negotiated
currently by community members, Bacon (1999) further elucidates the concept of
ethnicity in this context. According to Bacon, “ethnic identities are both personal and
collective” (141). An individual can have their own experience and sense of being a
certain ethnicity, but this is different, though most likely related, to the sense the overall
community has of itself. She says that often researchers mistake the aggregate of
individual identities “as constitutive of the … collective ethnic sense” (143). Bacon
argues that collective identity is formed in public spaces and in public forums where
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people in the community can communally negotiate the form and content of their
community (she also includes the organizations that facilitate these spaces and forums).
To understand the collective identity, Bacon suggests looking at two things: First, what
does it look like? This includes “both the ethnic label that emerges, and the basis or
content of that ethnicity” (e.g. heredity, language, food, religion) (143); Secondly,
through what processes is it constructed? There are two elements of this: larger social
circumstances and the interaction patterns in organizations and public spaces (143)).
It is this collective identity that Fugita and O’Brien (1991) may be trying to
describe when they propose that the sense of community particular to Japanese
Americans manifests itself not in language or customs, but in “social relational forms.”
Japanese Americans may have little relationship with Japanese customs or even with
other Japanese Americans, but they tend to make “weak ties” – community-based bonds,
often formed through voluntary organizations such as church, clubs, and sports
(Granovetter 1973, 1982). These ties facilitate a feeling of community among Japanese
Americans, even if they are limited to occasional interactions. Fugita and O’Brien argue
that Japanese Americans find a sense of collectivity by maintaining these weak social
relationships with others of the same ethnicity. How much of these interactions occur
within the context of sport? Although it only paints a partial picture, Fugita and
O’Brien’s 1991 study of second and third generation Japanese-American men in
Gardena, Sacramento and Fresno showed that 20.1% were involved with a Japanese-
American affiliated sports organization (Nisei = 20.9%, Sansei
14
= 19.3%). Among both

14
Sansei = Third generation Japanese American.
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generations, the level of participation in sports organizations overall (36.2%) was exceed
only by involvement in church organizations overall (49.4%).
So, while it is true that not every Japanese American in California participates in
basketball, the leagues and organizations affiliated with basketball fit Bacon’s (1999)
definition of a public forum or public space where collective ethnicity is negotiated
because at least a core group of people are interacting within basketball activities.
Basketball ends up touching many other community members through its affiliated
organizations. Bacon acknowledges that participants in ethnic organizations and their
affiliated events only represent a portion of the local ethnic population, but she argues
that their influence extends beyond their active participants. Community members read
about, discuss, and react to these organizations and events, even if they themselves rarely,
if ever, participate. The organizations and events represent a “core public space … in
which the collective ethnic identity of the community is constructed” (145). Within the
Japanese American population in Southern California, basketball-related events –
including tournaments, leagues, and college games featuring local icons – constitute
significant public spaces.
Although it is not essential that everyone in the community be directly involved
with basketball for it to be considered an important community activity, part of the power
of the leagues is their expansiveness. One way to attract and maintain participation in the
leagues is to offer a level of community inclusiveness. This inclusiveness has had
important effects on the leagues openness to girls’ and women’s participation, as I will
discuss in the following section.

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Inclusiveness: “Everybody Can Play”
Basketball has emerged as the link between community institutions and as a
conduit for social interactions among individuals. A big part of its appeal in both of these
realms is the expansive network that the basketball community represents. There is a
circular process at work: the larger the network, the more attractive it is to new
participants, thus expanding the network. However, maintaining basketball’s role and
status requires that the J-Leagues attract a wide spectrum of participants. Debbie
explained that, “There are other sports that JA’s have. There are baseball leagues. There
are volleyball [leagues], of course. Bowling is another big one, but basketball it just
seems it is intergeneration[al], inter-age, inter-gender and so…everybody can play.” It is
the linking of not only institutions, but the generations and the genders that gives
basketball its strength as a community-wide activity.
Although much of the spirit of inclusiveness seems to stem from more
instrumental goals of maintaining community cohesion, one community leader, Jack, was
more explicit in his support of the values of inclusiveness:
I think it reflects certain community values and culture that we hope we
can translate to what our community is. We want a community that is
less hierarchical, that’s less focused on titles and whatever. We want one
that’s much more group-oriented in the way we do things. We want one
that’s more inclusive and welcoming, one that is not sexist, classist, in
terms of nature. That’s what we want to build. That’s not a utopia, but
we’re trying to build a community that reflects what we think is inclusive,
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positive, progressive values and build a sense about bringing people
together around that.

Community border-work. The Japanese-American basketball community’s
commitment to internal inclusiveness also involves active border-work that marks the
boundaries of the ethnic community through exclusive sport activities. Teams follow
rules set by leagues and tournaments, filling rosters based on criteria principally based on
racial/ethnic background. Most give priority to players of Japanese descent followed by
players of Asian descent (for a discussion of the difficulties the community has in clearly
defining these categories, see King 2002). Leagues are alternately described as Japanese
Leagues (J-Leagues) or Asian Leagues. Some organizers have moved toward more
community-defined criteria for including participants, making exceptions for those
belonging to community organizations. Other peripheral leagues have opened up too all
participants, but this is less common. Given these enforced parameters, what about the
leagues is inclusive? The leagues are community inclusive. Once someone is clearly
defined as belonging to the Japanese-American community (or who has attained similar
status by participating through the proper channels), there is a strong ethic of
inclusiveness.
Becoming defined as a member of the community can be basketball-related, as
well. One player, Paul, whose parents emigrated from Japan, described divergent
experiences for him and his sister. Even though his family did not have many Japanese-
American connections because of their newcomer status, both he and his sister got
involved in the J-Leagues. Paul is very athletic and fairly tall and did very well in the
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leagues. This translated into his gaining an acceptance into the Japanese-American
community. At age 28, he still plays occasionally in tournaments with his childhood J-
League team. His sister, on the other hand, was not as talented of an athlete and grew
tired of basketball by junior high. Between her second generation status and lack of
athletic skill and talent, she did not really fit in with Japanese Americans. Paul explains,
“I think that whole experience really turned her off, because it’s like, she wasn’t very
good and wasn’t as welcomed into the basketball community.” This example illustrates
one of the many exceptions to inclusiveness within the basketball leagues – since most of
the players are third generation or beyond, it is more difficult for more recent Japanese
immigrants to fit in (though attitudes towards newcomers and outsiders vary by location
and organization). In some situations, basketball talent becomes a litmus test for
belonging. However, the example also illustrates how important involvement in
basketball can be for a newcomer or peripheral community member in respect to fitting in
within the community. If one is not connected into the community through another
source (e.g. through a church), basketball can be an important way to become involved
and make connections with other Japanese Americans.
Once one’s status as a community member is established, there is a strong sense
of community inclusiveness. Community members tend to voice a commitment to
keeping “everyone involved,” and in providing environments where this can be possible.
For example, there is a lot of discussion of making sure everyone has a place to play, and
that they be guaranteed a certain amount of playing time. Although this is also a
common goal of mainstream recreational-level play, the emphasis on playing
opportunities in the J-Leagues appears very important to many, especially as some
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families and players become more and more competitive. Jack, a community leader and
parent of league participants, related his philosophy and experiences:
I do believe everyone should play and that you don’t recruit players based
upon their ability, you recruit players based upon that they want to play,
and everyone should play. And that would be the focus of it, and it not be
as competitive in terms of winning. Those are my personal goals. I know
there’s teams and others that are – clearly that’s not what their interests
are. But to the degree that I have some influence. I referee in what’s
called the candy league. It’s non-competitive. People substitute in and
out. If they’re new players, you let them take three steps before they
shoot the ball. It’s just kind of fun.

Jack’s philosophy is that the leagues should stay away from more competitive attitudes
and practices because he believes that “everyone should play.”
Participants were divided on how competitive the J-Leagues are or should be
(both in terms of level of play and team philosophy), probably because there is a wide
spectrum levels and philosophies within the leagues, but a common response among
interviewees was to tout the leagues’ commitments to the values of fun and inclusiveness.
For example, Elise responded when asked to compare the J-Leagues to other playing
experiences: “I think they’re less competitive. I mean, they’re still competitive, like, we
still want to win, but it’s more about everybody plays and everybody wants to have fun.”
Ben who was very involved in both a girls’ and women’s league spoke in more detail
about how they set up the rules regarding playing time within the girls’ league: “I think
the philosophy was to allow all the girls to play. So, that’s why in the girls’ program,
they have to play. When we were playing quarters, they had to play each quarter. When
we went to halves, they had to play a significant amount of time, so that they weren’t just
benchwarmers.”
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Some respondents, like Laura, noted that the J-leagues’ “everyone plays” ethic
allows for the integration of less skilled players.
And that’s the one thing that’s kind of nice about the league is because, it
doesn’t matter, anybody can play, no matter the level. Cause they have a
bunch of different divisions in the Asian league, so it’s like anybody can
play, even if you’re horrible.

As a young man, Nick has dreams of playing in the NBA. If successful, he plans to
donate a large portion of his salary to making sure more people got a chance to play in
the J-Leagues:
Every time I think about me getting into the NBA and making lots of
money, I always think about where I started, and that’s as a five-year-old
kid playing in the Asian league. So, I would not be able to sleep at night
unless I donated money back … I would love to be able to put money into
it so they can make it cheaper for the people who can’t afford it. Maybe I
could sponsor some tournaments in local areas. … Maybe make another
team so more kids can join. I’m sure that there are always gonna be kids
who want to join. There are no kids that are ever refused. If they want to
play, they’re gonna be accepted onto a team. But I’m sure that sometimes
there’s a team of ten kids out there but none of their parents know
anything about basketball. They don’t have a coach. Maybe I can make
another team where there will be.

Nick represents a strong ethic of giving back to the community and a commitment to the
idea that all should be included, even if there may be a lack of resources. He also spoke
about a player on his team who had a lot of enthusiasm, but not a lot of basketball ability.
He thought that maybe he could create a team where this boy would find a more
appropriate place to play.
The leagues have not found the perfect way to deal with the tension between
competitiveness and inclusion, but one strategy follows Nick’s philosophy: offer many
teams and different levels of competition. Most tournaments and some leagues break
down competition into divisions, making sure that that teams will play against other
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teams of similar skill and ability. This also helps teams divide themselves according to
team goals. Teams that are more interested in the social aspects of J-Leagues can play
other like-minded teams in a lower division, whereas teams whose focus is competition
can play in a higher division. For Wallace Chan of Nikkei Games, separate divisions as
well as the three-on-three format help to facilitate an inclusive environment:
We’re more into having healthy competition. We want them to have
good games, so we – that’s why we have, um, gold, silver, bronze, you
know, copper divisions … In a full court game of five-on-five, three kids
may touch the ball, two kids don’t touch it a whole lot. It just is the
nature of the game … In a three-on-three tournament, it’s for everybody,
and we want you to touch the ball, we want you to play. You have to
touch the ball. You have to play. But in order to make it work, you have
to play against people who are your same level.

“Wheelchair Bound”: Keeping the Older Generations as Active Participants
The existence of multiple divisions helps resolve one important issue related to
keeping community members involved in something as active as basketball: age. In the
adult leagues, aging teams tend to move to lower divisions over the years, allowing them
to continue playing into their later years. In fact, some enjoy the leagues so much that
they keep playing into their 50s and 60s. In 2008, the Las Vegas tournament had
eighteen divisions of adult men’s teams: AA Gold, AA Silver, A+ Gold, A+ Silver, A+
Bronze, A+ Copper, A+ Iron, A+ Open Upper, A+ Open Lower, A Gold, A Silver, A
Bronze, A Copper, A Iron, A Tin, A Lead, A Rock, A Dirt. The AA precious metal
divisions tend to be highly competitive and the other divisions progressively less
competitive. The use of “Rock” and “Dirt” to name divisions shows that these players
have a certain sense of humor about their level of play. Team names can also poke fun at
the age or skill level of the participants. In the lowest women’s division at the 2008 Las
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Vegas tournament, for example, one team was named “Less than Giants” and another
was called “Back in Action.” In the lower men’s divisions, I found “Slow Break” and
“Wheelchair Bound.”
Most players gradually “retire” from playing in the leagues as they get older,
perhaps turning to coaching or another role. However, several of my interviewees
proudly told me about themselves, parents, or friends who are playing past fifty.
Some of the people I used to play with are still playing. They call it the
“open division,” which anybody past high school division, they’re still
running around. We always joke about it. In fact, in Northern California,
they have a tournament that they call The Legend. (Danielle, 58)

Although it appears to be a little less common for women to play past fifty, Danielle
described a Northern California tournament aimed specifically at women in older age-
brackets. With men, it was a lot more difficult to get them off the court. When older
players no longer felt comfortable playing in leagues and tournaments, they would still
participate in semi-organized pick-up games.
I know my dad played, he played high school football too. He actually
played up until ten years ago, but even now he still plays. He plays
Wednesday nights, it’s like a men’s adult league … He’s like 63. I mean
they don’t play fast, they just run the ball down and shoot, but he enjoys
it. (Laura)

On Wednesday night I play here at Belvedere with people that I’ve played
with since I was in college. We all migrate to the gym every Wednesday
night and some of my friends’ kids, their sons come out and play with us.
So, we have a lot of old and young. Our oldest is 67 and our youngest is
probably about in their twenties. (Andrew, age 58)

Continuing to play is a way to stay involved in the leagues and many are hesitant to give
this up for fear of losing the social connections involved. By having multiple divisions,
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as well as more casual pick-up games involving former J-League players, the leagues
provide a space for older players to continue to stay active in the basketball community.

“What if a Family is Just All Girls?”: Gender-Inclusiveness in the J-Leagues
The growth of J-Leagues in the past thirty years has coincided – probably not
coincidentally – with the growth of girls’ and women’s sports. Providing space for girls
and women to be active participants in the leagues means a larger network of players and
families who become involved, only increasing the scope of the network that basketball
offers. West Coast Japanese Americans have participated in women’s basketball since it
became popular in these communities in the 1920s; however, the growth of interest in the
sport by girls and women (as well as the public in general) has caused the community to
react, providing more and more outlets for play. They found that a community activity
that had been enjoyed for many years was only growing in popularity among the next
generation. Richard explained how certain Japanese-American sports programs
developed over time:
It’s not just the sports program. I remember when I was a kid, they even
had Japanese-American fishing clubs for the adults. But that was a
similar type of purpose, a place to gather or get together for a common
interest of the Japanese-American men. A lot of ‘em like to fish. And
now it’s the youth athletics, both for boys and girls. So it’s a common
denominator, a common connection.

Nicole: Do you think that’s important, that it’s a sport that both genders
play now, as part of community building?

Richard: Sure. Yeah. Because if it’s just for the boys, what if a family was
just all girls? They’re excluded, right? But it’s keeping that network and
that connection so that hopefully the kids will – because it is a positive or
good thing in their life that they meet people, other Japanese Americans,
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outside of their neighborhood, their community. LA, Orange County,
Inland Empire, even up north. Make some acquaintances.

Richard states that other sports and recreation-based groups that had developed in the
community, such as fishing clubs, also facilitated community-building, but he ends up
concluding that youth athletics, and particularly basketball, are now even more of a
“common denominator” because both girls and boys participate. He sees the exclusion of
girls as a negative, as having the potential to exclude families from the communal
experience. Emily also expressed some concern that her own children (a boy and a girl)
would be left out if not involved in J-League basketball:
I don’t think people realize how big it is in this community, from northern
to southern Cali all the way through. Anyone that doesn’t play basketball
… it’s not that you’re outcasted – you go to the games, still, you go to the
tournaments, you still go to Vegas, even if you don’t play. So, it’s a huge
chance for JAs to meet and get to know other Japanese Americans, pretty
much all throughout Cali.

For Emily, her children would have to be involved in some way, even if just as
spectators, so that they did not miss out on meeting other Japanese Americans. In my
conversation with Emily, she clearly expressed that she would offer both of her children
the opportunity to play. She was planning to return to playing more regularly after a
hiatus due to having her children, in part because she wanted to offer a role model to her
young daughter.
As the center of the J-Leagues has shifted from the adult leagues to the children’s
programs, gender inclusiveness has become even more important. First of all, as Richard
described, families who only have girls would, if their girls did not play basketball, be
excluded from the friendships and networking available through the J-Leagues. At the
youth level, being a basketball player is virtually the only way to actively participate in
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the leagues. Whereas adults can engage in parent-based roles such as providing snacks
for the team, children either play or don’t. Restricting girl’s roles to ones that are
traditionally feminine (i.e. not active in sport) would jeopardize the community’s ability
to retain families and bring youth into the fold at an early age (some of the athletic
organizations offer basketball clubs that start as early as four or five years of age).
As youth sports has gained popularity in the mainstream (Messner 2009), it also
appears to have grown immensely in the J-Leagues. Many interviewees involved in
popular tournaments such as the Tigers Tournament spoke about the growing number of
teams participating. Jimmy, who is involved with the Tigers Tournament, said:
I think the kids’ part of it has really exploded within the last maybe 15
years, because I think all the kids that are growing up now, their parents
played, and from that, I guess it’s like baby boomers, right, they all had
kids, and they’re all having their kids play. So it’s really exploded in the
last, I’d say, 15 years.

The growth of the youth leagues has meant even more expansive opportunities for both
sexes.

Gender-Inclusion Defined. My use of the term “gender-inclusive” has an
expanded definition that goes beyond its most obvious reference to the inclusion of both
sexes. The J-Leagues are inclusive in this most basic sense, as there are ample
opportunities for both sexes to participate. However, I also observed a gender
inclusiveness that is accepting of a range of femininities and masculinities. In the J-
Leagues, this acceptance is not limitless, but the willingness to incorporate and
accommodate a wide spectrum of abilities and interests has had the effect of expanding
the acceptable gender performances within basketball. For example, there are ever-
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expanding co-ed leagues popular among young men and women that allow for respectful
gender-relations on the court and even some spaces for gender play. The desire to
accommodate not only different skill levels, but also different interests may be behind
this openness to a wide range of engagements with the sport.
Although interests can overlap, some teams or divisions are more suited to those
who have particular goals or interests. For instance, when surveying participants in the
Southern California Women’s Athletic Union (SCWAU), I asked the participants to
number the top three reasons that kept them motivated to continue playing with SCWAU.
The top three (in order of importance) were: love of the game, exercise/health, and social
life/fun. In Figure 3 - 2, I illustrate how these interests/goals can overlap, but also be
distinct. A given team may include mainly players who play for the “love of the game” –
these players may be more competitive than those who play simply for exercise or to
have fun.
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Figure 3 - 2: SCWAU survey – Top three reasons for continuing to play in the league

Basketball = A “Genderless” Sport?
J-League basketball provides ample opportunities for both sexes to participate.
There are multiple leagues throughout Los Angeles and Orange Counties, as well as some
in communities in Northern California, that offer competition for boys’, girls’, men’s,
women’s, or co-recreational teams. There are very few tournaments that cater only to
one sex (although the majority of competition is sex-segregated). The Wanjettes
Tournament, girls-only, may be the only contemporary exception. The majority of
tournaments offer competition in numerous age groups for both sexes. Although
technically “invitation only”, most tournaments tend to respond to entries – any team that
Love of
the Game
Social
Life &
Fun
Exercise&
Health
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submits an application and fee is usually permitted to play. Although on a rare occasion
there are logistical limitations, leagues and tournaments are overwhelmingly able to
accommodate whatever interest is out there.
Because of the opportunities for play are in many ways egalitarian in nature, a
few of the participants asserted that J-League basketball was gender neutral or
“genderless.” Barbara, for instance, had grown up in Northern California playing
basketball in the J-Leagues. Now a parent of two children playing in the Southern
California J-Leagues, a boy and a girl, she thought that basketball was becoming
“genderless.” Even growing up, she said that she definitely perceived basketball at the
professional level as a male sport, but on a local community level, she didn’t really think
of it that way. It was “everybody’s sport.”

Women and Competition
It’s probably one of the hardest teams to play on because of the certain
defense you play and a certain – you’ve got to have a lot of heart and
hustle. If you don’t have it, you shouldn’t play Purple because it is really
hard. And there’s a way to – you just have to have that edge. And it’s
not taught, it’s given. (Diane)

The older we’ve gotten, we’re like … it’s just different. We’re not into it.
It’s more for fun now, versus before we were really competitive. (Grace)

I told the girls, I want to play just more to have fun. I mean, it’s cool to
win, but I’m 31 years old. I’m not gonna get anything but a T-shirt from
it. [laughs] It’s not like I’m gonna get a bonus check or anything. (Emily)

The J-Leagues are able to accommodate a wide spectrum of players in terms of
skills, interests, and level of competitiveness. Diane, Grace, and Emily represent some of
the varying degrees of intensity in relation to basketball. Because of the expansiveness of
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the leagues and the custom of dividing play into different divisions, all three can find a
team that suits their needs. Rebecca who at the time of the interview was running a
peripheral men’s league, said this of women within the leagues:
I think for the women, it’s, there are different levels of competitiveness,
but I think they’ve all learned to compete at their level because there are
varying levels of play and divisions because there are so many leagues
and divisions that everybody can play.

What this means for the women involved is that there the leagues do not necessarily cater
just to the “athletic type.” Neither do they force skilled and competitive women into non-
competitive environments. Girls and women can choose to play on teams where it’s “just
for fun” or on teams with intense competition, or even find a team that’s a nice mix of
both.
The broad range of competition available to women in the J-Leagues represents a
partial, on-the-ground solution to questions about the form and content of women’s
sports. The finding may help to mediate debates between early feminist scholars of sport
who argued on a spectrum that spans liberal feminist models where women would have
the same opportunities as men (more or less within the current model) and a more radical
or womanist model where women would re-create sport in forms more suited to female
bodies and sensibilities. For example, Jennifer Hargreaves (1994) sees women as having
three possible strategies in engaging with sport: 1) a liberal feminist approach where
women try to enter male spheres of activity, 2) a “separatist all-female strategy” that
reflects the beliefs of cultural feminism, or 3) a more radical feminist approach that
would be “a cooperative venture with men for qualitatively new models in which
differences between the sexes would be unimportant” (40). In a sense, J-Leagues offer a
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little something to please many along this spectrum. First, the leagues are not a turn-off
to super-competitive women because there’s plentiful competition at a high-level of play.
These women can generally choose to play in sex-segregated or in co-ed environments.
In line with a liberal feminist objective, women at these levels can play and be regarded
as just like the men. Simultaneously, the leagues tend to be accepting of less skilled and
less competitive players, providing spaces for play that are more about fun and friendship
and less about the game itself. This may be one example of a separatist or womanist
view of sport. At any level, teams can develop their own sense of what is valuable about
playing and act accordingly (again, in sex-segregated or co-ed environments depending
on their preference).
During my field research, I observed a women’s adult league (SCWAU) game. I
had been invited because two women playing on one of the teams also had adult
daughters on the same team. It was a chance to see mother-daughter teammates.
Probably because of the wide-range of ages this mother-daughter team required, the team
played in one of the lower divisions of SCWAU. What I noticed throughout the game
was the preponderance of giggling, smiles, and laughter. Some of the women scampered
down the court rather than running full-tilt. Plainly, the object of the game was not
intense competition, but mainly enjoyment. Conversely, I observed several higher
division games at tournaments and saw women playing a very high-level of basketball.
Not only were the women highly skilled, but there was a palpable intensity on the floor.
Interviews with players at this higher level, such as Diane quoted above, confirmed this
intense attitude. These two extremes of play illustrate the range of playing options for
women and also the range of gender performances acceptable within the leagues. In the
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lower divisions, it was not uncommon to see performances of what may be considered
more traditional femininity, for example, giggling during a sport contest. In the upper
divisions, women had their game-face on, looking tough and serious, exhibiting a
different gender performance, perhaps more traditionally associated with masculinity.

Co-Ed Spaces: “Goofing Off” and Serious Respect
I know they have different co-ed divisions, and so I know in the lower
ones they don’t really care too much. The lower ones are more goofing
off. This one they tend to play more serious. (Meredith)

On the day that I interviewed Meredith, I also watched her compete in a co-ed J-
League on a team with her brother. During the game, Meredith’s brother scored a
beautiful three-point shot. A few minutes later, Meredith hit her stride, sinking back-to-
back three pointers for the team. Some male teammates chided the brother, “Who’s the
better shot?” The brother answered, “No contest,” and cast his eyes toward Meredith. In
this league, several of the women, including Meredith, play or have played on college
and university-level teams. The men understand this and the content of the play showed
respect for the women’s athleticism. Keith, 22, who plays in the same league elaborated:
[Girls are] pretty much the keys to winning the game, I think, because if
you have two solid girls, they can – they’re groomed to shoot, that’s what
they’re made to do, that’s what they’ve trained and worked on. I mean
that’s what they do, so I mean if you get two girls that are shooters and
they just hit a bunch of shots outside, I mean … They could take over a
game basically. There is a mutual – there are times there’s three girls in,
and um, two guys in so a guy has to guard a girl, which is always an
interesting kind of feel, because the girls are not afraid of those guys. I
think they almost welcome them. Like, if I make him look bad, then,
people are – it’s going to look great. So, but I mean, I’ve definitely – I
mean, I’ve blocked girls. I just view them as… as another guy because I
think that’s how they want to be viewed. They don’t want to be viewed
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as dainty, like they can’t play or they should be treated differently. If a
girl’s going to drive in for a layout and I have a chance to block her, then
I will block her.

Playing in the higher division co-ed league, Keith views his women teammates “as
another guy.” Although this comment reveals some stereotypical conceptions of
differences between men and women, he is clearly impressed by the skill and abilities of
the women he plays with in this league, perceiving them as a challenge. In order to win,
he can’t afford to treat the women differently.
On July 24, 2009 I observed at the Jetts/Jettes Tournament co-ed competition and
discovered a bit of what Meredith meant by “goofing off.” There were two divisions
playing that night: high school and adult. As the high school teams warmed up, I noticed
one straggler enter the gym, a young man of about sixteen. A fellow teammate, a young
woman, met him at the side of the court. “Yes,” I heard her say in a raised voice, “You
have to wear the socks!” I glanced at some of these players’ teammates and realized that
all of the players on this particular team had polka-dotted socks and they had a different
colored background on each foot: one black and one white. The young woman stood
over the young man until she was satisfied that he was complying by putting on the
polka-dotted socks. As this process unfolded, a man with a camera, who looked to be a
parent, came over smiling and snapped a couple of pictures of the young man putting on
his socks. As more and more teams cycled through the three courts, I realized that quite a
few had uniforms or accessories that could be described as costumes. On one team, it
was just one young man who had decided to wear a pink sweat band on his head, as well
as rainbow socks pulled over tights. Later, another boy entered the gym with sparkly
pink and purple face make-up, as if he had been to a carnival. This time, several people
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gathered around with cameras to take photos of him or to pat him on the back. As for the
girls, one was wrapped in plastic over her clothes and dragged out onto the court for
photos. Other teams showed their creative energies in less ostentatious ways, with
homemade T-shirts reflecting the individual personalities of players. A few had more
conventional uniforms. Just when I thought this was only the silliness of high school
students, the adult teams arrived. Two of the teams wore uniforms of pink T-shirts – one
team had hot pink and the other light, pastel pink.
I began to see what Meredith must have meant by “goofing off” – although the
level of play was fairly high and not much joking occurred on the court, the use of
costumes, accessories and non-traditional colors – many of these accoutrements very
gendered – gave a jovial feel to the co-ed tournament. It also seemed to be a space where
“doing gender” in basketball took on a whole new meaning. In some ways, the gender
performances of the young men in the tournament call to mind "rituals of reversals" as
described by Foley (1999) in the context of powder puff football. In powder puff
football, high school boys (usually from the football team) dress up as cheerleaders and
cheer on high school girls (usually cheerleaders) as they play a game of football. Foley
notes that the boys tend to exaggerate femininity to the point of caricature – this way, it is
clearly a joke and the stigma of dressing and acting like a girl is diminished. The girls
more often took it seriously, trying to prove that they could be tough athletes.
The young men at the co-ed tournament may have been participating in a ritual of
reversal by putting on polka-dotted socks, wearing tights, painting their face, or wearing
pink shirts. The reactions of others indicated that these practices were supposed to be
funny, as the participants got their pictures taken or pats on the back from peers as well as
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parents. However, other than the perhaps implied messages associated with the
aforementioned apparel and accessories, the young men did not appear to be overtly
making fun of their female counterparts. As the sock incident implies, it may have been
that the young women team members were the ones who organized the costumes and that
some young men were reluctant to participate. Also, the goofing off did not really show
itself in the play of the game. Play was fairly serious and the male athletes appeared to
respect their female counterparts. The only aspect of play that was somewhat lopsided
was that the young men tended to be the ball-handlers in most games, although this was
not true of all of the games and the position sometimes rotated.
Whatever the motivations of the men and women who participated in the co-ed
portion of the tournament, their form of dress represented gender play and certainly a
range of performances of gender that is not usually found in basketball.

Thinking about Coed Sports
Wachs (2002) argues that “coed sports are an anomaly in the recent history of
modern sports” (301). The recent model of “equality” in modern sports, she explains, is
based on a concept of separate but equal (single-sex competition). This creates a paradox
because “equality is predicated on definitions of difference” (302). Coed sporting
environments, however, may be spaces where participants can challenge assumed
categorical differences between the sexes, and where both sexes have the opportunity to
recognize and respect each others’ abilities. Wachs found that in coed softball, gendered
rules tend to undermine this challenge to gender dichotomy, instead reifying and drawing
focus towards gender differences.
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In the highly competitive league where Meredith and Keith play coed basketball,
Meredith’s brother’s recognition of her shooting abilities and Keith’s comments about the
competencies of female players show signs of mutual respect among players and even
challenges to gender norms. One reason for this is probably the skill level of the female
players – since many Japanese Americans have access to solid coaching, clinics, and
numerous playing opportunities, there is a high skill-level among most players, both male
and female. Thus, there is less reason to doubt female abilities. This also means that
there do not have to be as many rules that serve to “protect” or provide opportunities for
female players. The absence of complex gendered rules may, in turn, aid in making
gender less salient on the court.
Rules for co-ed competition in the J-Leagues can vary widely, but are generally
fairly simple, in contrast to the elaborate rules that Wachs (2002) encountered in her
study of coed softball. The most common rules center around what Wachs describes as
“affirmative action”: rules that mandate a certain number of girls/women on the court at
all times. Although these type of rules provide access to playing time and preserve the
notion of “coed”, they also insinuate that a team would choose to have less women if
possible. Keith’s descriptions of his experiences in the coed league imply that it is
somewhat common to play the minimum number of girls (two), but that “there are times
there’s three girls in.” So, at least in this league, this gendered rule does not prevent more
women playing than the rule implies would be desirable. The most egalitarian rule that I
encountered was at the Nikkei Games three-on-three basketball tournament. Instead of
singling out women as a protected category, they simply decided that the coed
competitions would be four-on-four and that two players must be male and two must be
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female. This rule does reify gender categories because it forces teams to categorize
players and make line-ups and substitutions based on gender, but does less to imply that
there is anything lacking in either sexes’ abilities. It could simply be interpreted as an
enforcement of the idea of “coed”.
Another very common rule in co-ed competition within the J-Leagues is that
teams play with a women’s ball. In high school and college basketball, for instance,
women play with a ball that is slightly lighter and smaller in circumference than men play
with. Thus, when playing in co-ed competition within the J-Leagues, men must make an
accommodation to play with the women. Although it is not unheard of for a coed league
to institute this rule, there are other ways that the male players appear to be making
accommodations. When teams wore pink shirts, for example, this seemed to be another
instance where the men had to play with the women on the women’s terms. At least in
one case, the young woman on the team was insisting that her male teammate wear
polka-dotted socks. In many ways this is radically different from what is asked of
women in many sports contexts where they enter sports as already established by and for
men and have to prove themselves worthy to compete as measured by these already
established standards.

Diversity of Roles
I’m saying that consistently along the way it’s been … [it’s] not like just
because you play ball, you’re not feminine enough to be in the beauty
pageant either. You know? So, I think that’s really nice because they’re
really well-rounded people … When it’s time to play ball they could be
out there with the best, and when it’s time to be in the beauty pageant it’s
– they could be there, so it’s nice. (Rebecca)

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There is another way that JA basketball provides spaces for multiple femininities,
as well: the diversity of roles available. The roles available both directly and indirectly
related to basketball are numerous, and women can easily engage in multiple roles
without feeling like they are mutually exclusive. Girls and women have many
opportunities not only to play, but also to engage in other active roles such as coaching
(including coaching boys’ and men’s teams), score-keeping, refereeing, or organizing
leagues/tournaments.
Despite the opportunities available, girls and women in the J-Leagues are still
overrepresented in some of the more traditionally feminine roles, such as providing
snacks for the team, and underrepresented in more traditionally masculine roles, such as
being head coach. These disparities are part of the reason that I chose to use the term
“gender-inclusive” rather than “gender-egalitarian” to describe Japanese-American
basketball. Although the leagues and tournaments are very inclusive and supportive of
girls’ and women’s basketball, there are still a number of gender inequalities.
In the leagues and tournaments, there are generally a few more boys’ and men’s
teams registered than girls’ and women’s teams. For a sample, I examined the 2006
Tournament Book for the Tigers Tournament. There were 397 youth teams that entered
the tournament that year, broken into ten divisions, kindergarteners through 8
th
grade and
prep (high school). A total of 230 (58%) were boys’ teams, 164 (41%) were girls’ teams,
and three (2%) were co-ed teams (kindergarten-age only). This trend seems to be
consistent in other tournaments – boys’ and men’s teams generally outnumber girls’ and
women’s team, but not by an overwhelming amount.
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There were also more men in leadership roles, such as coaching teams and serving
as league commissioners. Examining again the 2006 Tournament Book for the Tigers
Tournament, I categorized the coaches’ names listed with each youth team, dividing the
names by sex as male, female, or ambiguous. Taking all teams into account, 85% of
coaches were male, 10% were female, and 5% had names that were ambiguous.
Counting only unambiguous names, women coaches mainly coached girls’ teams – about
20% of the girls’ team coaches were women, whereas only 3.5% of the boys’ team
coaches were women. Although these percentages are comparable or slightly better than
those found in other studies of youth sports (e.g. Messner 2009), they are far from equal
or representative. In contrast to what Messner (2009) found in youth soccer and baseball
leagues, J-League women were not necessarily relegated to coaching at the lower age
divisions. The largest percentage of women coaching boys’ teams (17%) occurred in the
7
th
grade division (2006 Tigers Tournament). With the exception of one peripheral
league run by one of my interviewees, Rebecca, all of the league commissioners who I
came into contact with during the study were men. Most tournament chairs were also
men, although a woman ran the San-Tai-San tournament in 2009.
Something that stood out to me during observations was the regular sightings or
mentions of women coaching boys’ and men’s teams. I asked one parent, Barbara, about
it since her sixth grade son’s team had a female coach – a young woman who was still in
college. Asking about female coaches in general, she responded: “They recognize the
talent. When a woman is good at something, it’s respected.” She thought that as long as
someone is good at what they do, they get the respect and placement deserved. When I
asked about her son’s coach, she thought that there may be a little bit of disrespect for her
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because she was so young. “I don’t really categorize between male and female. A good
game is a good game.” She seemed to indicate this was the attitude of others, too. One
of the players on her son’s team had an older sister who had played in college – this
player had played a bit with the boys on her son’s team. Barbara was coached by a
women growing up. She summed it up: “Whoever is capable.” Barbara voiced a
meritocracy argument – if they’re good enough, they’ll be chosen to coach.
Nick, age 15, talked about his current experiences with a female coach:
She’s just as much one of the guys as any one of us. Even though she’s a
woman, she acts like one of the guys sometimes … After every practice,
we go out and put our hands in and after every practice we have a
tradition of, whoever did the best in practice, we pull him in the middle.
It’s usually more like a congratulations and we all do it to him, but the
kids turn it into, “Hey, let’s push him around and be funny.” Marissa sees
that no one’s seriously trying to hurt anyone, so she’ll be the first one to
pull you in. She’s one of the instigators of the whole thing. She’s like,
“Get in here, you’re the one getting beat up today.” So I don’t think
anyone thinks of her as a woman more than just a coach. I think that’s
what everyone really sees her as. There are actually a lot of women
coaches around the league, a lot of people’s moms. I see a lot of moms as
coach. So having Marissa as coach is really no different than some of
those other teams. I’d probably say 50-50 women to men coaches.

Nick reveals how a group of 15-year-old boys had come to treat their female coach as
“one of the guys.” The experience of having a female coach may have led Nick to have a
false impression about the proportion of women coaches (although I did not do an
analysis of coaches within his league). However, his comments illustrate the perception
of “genderlessness” within the J-Leagues. Only one interviewee, Kevin, who lived in
Orange County (higher median income than Los Angeles County), mentioned that lack of
female coaches. He explained that most women were too busy raising children to have
time to coach.
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Although I could not track coaches of adult teams because many adult teams do
not have or do not mention a coach in the tournament books, I heard several reports
during interviews of women coaching adult men’s teams, and observed it at tournaments
and at the principle men’s league (NAU) playoffs. The NAU board members mentioned
that it’s fairly common, alluding to the idea that women are more organized and better at
coordinating the team schedule and game substitutions. According to Tammy who
coached in the NAU league:
I was 21 or 22. [The guys] were probably mid-twenties. It was my
boyfriend’s team … It was cool because – I don’t know, I just told them
what to do. At that level, you just substitute them and give them pointers
here and there. Because I know basketball, how to match up. “You
should do this … go to the zone, press them.” Just those things, because
when you play in an adult league, you either know how to play or you
don’t. You don’t really practice any more. They just need someone to
tell them what to do sometimes. So, that was all I did, substituted.

The NAU board members had a gendered argument – that women were actually better at
organizing and therefore better than men at coaching adults (since they did not need
much actual coaching, just someone to keep the team running smoothly). Tammy’s
experience in some ways echoed these sentiments, but she also credited herself with
having the basketball know-how to instruct her male players on game strategy.
In terms of the roles available to men, most within the basketball context are
traditionally masculine, so it is not surprising that men are participating in and
dominating many of these roles such as league commissioner, coach, or referee. Roles
that are more traditionally feminine, such as providing snacks for children after youth
games, seem to be dominated by women, although it would merit further study to see if
this is changing or if men are actually helping out more behind the scenes.
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“That’s what you’re supposed to do is play in these leagues”
In the current era, mainstream society appears to exhibit a growing acceptance
and recognition for the idea that girls and women participate in athletic activity. The
(moderately) athletic body-type may even be the ideal for women and men alike.
Nevertheless, the conservative view that there are no women who enjoy or excel at sports
does still exist and seems at times to be propagated by mainstream media when they
choose to ignore or trivialize women’s sport (see chapter four). It is far more common,
however, to see distinctions not between sporting and non-sporting women, but among
sporting women based on type of sport and type of sporting body. Many sports are
divided as being more appropriate for men versus women (Hargreaves 1994). Despite
the popularity of basketball among young women in the United States and the existence
of a women’s professional league, the WNBA, basketball is still considered to be at the
center of men’s sports (Messner 2002). When sports are viewed as masculine or male,
women who participate in them can face the stigma of being labeled as masculine and/or
lesbian (Hargreaves 1994). In this way, sports have the power to “construct differences
between different femininities (and masculinities) as well as between males and females”
(Hagreaves 1994, 171). In essence, homophobia and the related fear of being perceived
as masculine both play a key role in keeping women from pursuing sport and especially
from pursuing sports that are classified as masculine.
Although Japanese Americans are not free from the belief systems of the
dominant society, this tendency to categorize basketball as masculine does not make
sense given the context. Because basketball is such an integral part of the community,
Japanese Americans tend to assume that just about everyone will at least try basketball
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and that most will find something about it that they enjoy. For example, Sarah expressed
some disbelief that someone would not be involved. “In Southern California?” She
asked. “It’s almost second nature.” Attaching a stigma to playing – for boys or girls –
would interfere with basketball’s role as a community-building activity. If someone is
stigmatized in any way, it would be because he or she chooses not to play basketball.
Many interviewees described a sense that those who did not play basketball may feel left
out, or have to explain themselves in some way. When asked if other Japanese
Americans were likely to assume she played basketball, Laura answered:
They kind of do assume, they assume. That’s why my friends feel left out
– those ones that – because they’ll probably always ask, “Oh, what team
did you play for?” And they feel left out of that. And you’re kind of
surprised if you meet somebody that hasn’t played in a league and they’re
older. It’s like, “You never played?” They’re like, “Yeah.” It’s like,
“What were you doing?” It’s something that like, like everybody … you
grew up with that and that’s what you’re supposed to do is play in these
leagues.

Basketball is such a common denominator among Japanese Americans, that not being
able to name a team or organizational affiliation may make it difficult to join in a
conversation or break the ice with someone new. Laura explains that those who do not
play often feel “left out.” Scott goes further to say that a Japanese American who doesn’t
play would be “weird,” although he does make an allowance for someone who lives
outside of California:
I think if you’re Japanese, it’s kind of expected. If I meet someone new
that’s Japanese and I found out they didn’t play, I think it’s weird. It’s
almost like the rule versus the exception. Unless they grew up out of state
… So, I think it’s kind of – you expect them to be able to play.

So, for both men and women, choosing basketball as a pastime is “second nature” and
those who are not participating may have to explain themselves – they may be perceived
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as somewhat of an outsider, such as someone not from California. Particularly for girls
and women, this stands in stark contrast to mainstream conceptions of some women who
play basketball. I asked many of my interviewees about this contrast. Emily explained,
“I think there’s generally more understanding amongst the Japanese guys because they go
to a lot of games, they see us play, they know that we’re playing in the same tournaments
they are in the same leagues.” Other interviewees more clearly articulated a difference
between perceptions outside and inside of the community. When asked how women
athletes were regarded in the community, Jimmy stated, “Just as much as boys, I think.
There’s not – I don’t think-there’s not that much difference. I know just outside of the JA
community maybe they don’t get as much respect. Maybe, I don’t know. But in JA
circles, girls and boys are on equal footing.” This inside/outside of the community
difference was also articulated in terms of recreational versus professional-level
basketball:
I don’t think it’s too different, it’s not like – I think within the JA, it’s
mostly as like a rec league. We don’t really – I don’t think it’s like the …
how people feel about the WNBA … like it’s inferior or … It’s just, you
know, we all know it’s just something we’re doing for fun … at this level,
I don’t think it’s really much of a difference. I mean, it’s not like you can
really tease them for playing something that’s inferior, when we’re out
playing rec leagues as well. (Jake)

Jake implies that there may be a common sentiment that the WNBA is inferior to the
NBA, but that within the J-Leagues, everyone sees each other as being at the same level.
He is not able to tease the girls and women in the leagues, since he sees himself as at an
equal level to them. This may be similar to the “sameness” that Emily referred to in her
statement. The community feels on level footing within the leagues and this extends to
both sexes.
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Beauty Queens and Lesbians
The simple act of playing basketball is clearly not stigmatized, but what about the
way that it is played. Can women, for example, be “too good”? Are players who exhibit
traits conventionally associated with masculinity or homosexuality in danger of being
ostracized? Conversely, can women who are more traditionally feminine find a space to
play?
One interesting way to look at the interaction of traditional or emphasized
femininity and its interaction with basketball within the Japanese American community is
to look at beauty pageant contestants. Every year during Nisei Week a “Queen” is
chosen from a “court” of contestants. One of my interviewees, Genevieve, was a
contestant in the pageant and said this of her court (fellow contestants):
A lot of the girls end up – have played at some point … I think there are
seven of us on my court. Um, me and another girl ____, she still plays
basketball now. A couple of them had played in the past, and then three
of them had never played. Those are the people, like, how have you
never played? You know, you’re looking at them like they’re the strange
ones, so it was really funny.

Just as others expressed that those who did not play basketball may feel weird or left out,
Genevieve describes that this was also true among the pageant contestants. Similar to
basketball, the pageant is a way that Japanese Americans come together to participate in a
community ritual. The pageant contestants become symbols of the community, just as
“celebrity” basketball players often do (see chapter four). Since a part of what Nisei
Week Queens represent is their commitment to the community and symbolism of
community ideals, playing basketball becomes an easy way to demonstrate this
involvement and appropriate symbolism.
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So, women generally do not feel any sort of conflict if they chose to pursue
community through representation in beauty pageants, participation in basketball leagues,
or both. Two of my interviewees who were pageant contestants were also both talented
players, so this outwardly inconsistent identity did not even require a less athletic body or
less competitive disposition. Since finishing my research in the community, another
talented J-League player whom I interviewed won the pageant in 2009 and rumor has it
that possibly the most famous local Japanese American basketball player, Jamie Hagiya,
will be a candidate in 2010.
As mentioned, homophobia has always had an affect on women’s sports, as
discussed and documented by many sports scholars (e.g. Cahn 1994; Hargreaves 1994).
However, at least on the women’s side, alternative sexual identities seem to have a space
within the J-Leagues. None of my interviewees came out to me as gay, lesbian, or
revealed other alternative identities, but during my observations, I saw women
throughout the leagues who through certain styles of hair or dress may have been
communicating lesbian identities. Also, two women who had played at the top level in
SCWAU related that some teams, including theirs, had become known for having several
lesbian players. When asked “who best fit in” in the J-Leagues, one of these players,
Laura, said:
I think anybody does. I mean there’s so many, there’s a variety of
different people who play and I never feel like, you know, well somebody
at our age right now, just somebody who knows how to play basketball.
That’s all. I mean there’s not a personality thing, it’s not what they’re
into, or what their sexual orientation is or anything, it’s just anybody.
Like you know how to play.

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Later in my conversation with Laura and her teammate Maggie, it appears that the
reaction of the community regarding lesbians in sport is currently in a transition. Gossip
and stereotyping still occur; however, it sounds like lesbian and bisexual players are
feeling more and more comfortable to be open about their identities. Following is a
conversation in response to questions about Maggie and Laura’s team being identified as
a “lesbian team”:
Maggie: Well the first thing that comes to my mind is, even my uncle, he
still makes fun of – they think you’re gay basically. I think my uncles
always asks too, “Oh, is she gay too?”

Laura: Which Uncle?

Maggie: [Gives name]. That’s because half our team that we play on is
gay. Or they’re bi. So they assume. So my family, they joke about it,
but they’re always asking, “Oh, she’s not gay?” I’ll be like, “Laura got
married.” “Oh she’s not gay?” I’m like, “No, my whole team isn’t gay.”
But yeah, I think that is kind of a big stereotype.

Nicole: So even though it’s really common, they’re still—

Maggie: Yeah.

Nicole: They’re coming to play basketball in your community then.

Maggie: Yeah.

Laura: Well it was weird, even like growing up, we used to, since we
started in adult league out of high school, there was this one team that
everyone thought that everyone from there – thought they were gay. And
it was like, kind of thing where everyone just assumed, and now it’s
funny. It’s because nobody else on any other team was open about it …
and it wasn’t until the last few years. We were at this Vegas festival that
we were kind of talking about where you see a lot of people. They’re
really open about it, making out, walking out of the casino holding hands.
Which is great, you know, but it wasn’t until more recently that I guess
they felt, I don’t know…

Maggie: Now everyone – seems like everyone is open about, and
everybody’s gay. Haha.
123

Nicole: Now what’s the community reaction to that?

Laura: I don’t think anyone has you know …

Maggie: I think our team is very, is more like, we’re like known as the
gay team now. See but then, it’s not until like, not until someone on
another team, they found out that, oh yeah, my teammate, she’s gay, that
they’re more open. Before that it’s like, “Hey, is so and so gay? Are they
a couple?” You know, people would always ask me, they would always
ask… I don’t know, I still get that stereotype like all the time.

Laura: Besides your uncle?

Maggie: Well yeah, I mean just, you know, in general people always
make comments, or you know how you play basketball. I mean even like
the WNBA, just everyone associates that.

So, the J-Leagues are not free from negative lesbian stereotypes that are still prevalent in
many women’s sports. However, it appears that lesbian and bisexual women are feeling
more open and safe about sharing their identities and lifestyles with others. Community
members appear to be more curious than offended or upset.

Women Coaching Men
Although the majority of J-League coaches are men, there are a number of well-
respected women coaches. Furthermore, it is not uncommon to see a woman coaching a
boys’ or men’s team. Although not much data exists to compare, this trend does appear
to differ from patterns in other sports contexts. In high school, college men’s and
professional men’s basketball, female coaches are seldom, if ever, present. At the youth
level, one study (Messner 2009) noted that women sometimes coach younger boys’
teams, but generally bowed out (or were encouraged to give up the team) as the boys got
older.
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I asked a few of my female interviewees about their experiences coaching men’s
teams. Tammy’s experience seemed to be fairly typical:
I was 21 or 22. [The guys] were probably mid-twenties. It was my
boyfriend’s team … It was cool because – I don’t know, I just told them
what to do. At that level, you just substitute them and give them pointers
here and there. Because I know basketball, how to match up. “You
should do this … go to the zone, press them.” Just those things, because
when you play in an adult league, you either know how to play or you
don’t. You don’t really practice any more. They just need someone to
tell them what to do sometimes. So, that was all I did.

Tammy describes her role as coach as somewhat limited, but it is somewhat remarkable
that men in their mid-twenties appeared to feel comfortable with a younger woman
telling them what to do. Tammy is currently forty-five. From interviewing participants
from different age cohorts, it appears that men and women who grew up post-Title IX
playing in the J-Leagues have a unquestioned respect for women’s knowledge of the
game. Again, because it’s common during this more recent era for most women to play
in the leagues from an early age, it’s easy to assume a high level of basketball knowledge
on the part of a woman from the community. I also asked Nick, who is fifteen and plays
for a female coach, how his team reacts to her being a woman:
I don’t think anyone thinks of her as a woman more than just a coach. I
think that’s what everyone really sees her as. There are actually a lot of
women coaches around the league, a lot of people’s moms. I see a lot of
moms as coach. So having Marissa as coach is really no different than
some of those other teams. I’d probably say 50-50 women to men
coaches.

I did not conduct any sort of study of the coaches in Nick’s league, but it is probably not
50-50 as he describes. More importantly, though, is that there are enough women
coaching and most likely a feeling of naturalness about women coaching in this boy’s
league, that Nick would have this impression of equality.
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Who are the pariahs – the players or the non-players?
Interactions with hegemonic masculinity
Schippers (2007) offers a term that may be helpful in thinking about mainstream
conceptions of women in sport: pariah femininities. As the metaphor of the term
suggests, pariah femininities lie outside the realm of readily acceptable feminine
practices. Still, they are not “subordinate femininities because they are deemed, not so
much inferior, as contaminating to the relationship between masculinity and femininity”
(95). According to Schippers, a woman acting in accordance with hegemonic masculine
practices must be sanctioned in order to withhold the symbolic value of hegemonic
masculinity from her. The sanctioning process takes the form of “re-inscribing” the
symbol – that is, a woman who is really excellent at sports would not be seen as
symbolically masculine, but rather stigmatized as lesbian or as a type of aberrant female.
For the Japanese-American women playing in the community leagues, simply
playing is clearly not interpreted as “pariah.” Quite the opposite, participation in the
leagues is viewed as a normal function of community participation. It is the choice of
non-participation that must be explained or (possibly) sanctioned. Playing well is also
not a punishable offense. As I will show in the next chapter, women who are star players
are well-respected and even idolized by community members. In general, Japanese-
American women in the leagues are not viewed as enacting pariah femininity even
though they are engaging in an activity more conventionally associated (in the broader
culture) with hegemonic masculinity.
In the Japanese-American community, basketball’s association with hegemonic
masculinity may be subdued in favor a more important symbol of Japanese-Americaness.
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As discussed, the goals of inclusion are very instrumental. Making sure just about
everyone is involved (and not turned off by a limited range of acceptable conduct or
types of roles available) is important to maintaining the community. In turn, this
inclusion becomes part of the larger ethnic identity.
Even though many community members may view basketball as “genderless,” it
may actually symbolically embolden or masculinize the community image because of its
connections in the larger culture to hegemonic masculinity. A parallel example may be
taiko, a traditional Japanese form of drumming that is very active, powerful, and almost
aggressive in form. Although traditionally a male activity, Konagaya (2005) found that
Japanese-Americans actively included women in their taiko groups. He explained that
“the manliness in the performances could be interpreted as emboldening Japaneseness
and not just the egos of men” (148). Likewise, basketball is a very physical sport,
especially in its modern form. Not only skill, but leadership, power and controlled
aggression are prized in the game. For an Asian-American group subject to stereotypes
about their femininity and weakness, engaging in powerful, masculine performances in
both taiko and basketball are a way to express resistance to these stereotypes for both
men and women.

J-League Men Doing Gender: “You can’t be out here for blood and guts”
Men also may find a range of acceptable masculine practices in the J-Leagues, but
as it is in most mainstream contexts the range is much smaller than it is for women.
The men’s leagues and tournaments tend to be even more plentiful than the women’s in
terms of opportunities and varied levels of play. A former NAU board member, Mitch,
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explained how the different divisions allowed for different engagements with basketball
in the men’s league: “Well, to some degree, at the upper levels, it’s more a free-agent
market. Everyone’s looking for the best players. Players are jumping teams for whatever
reason. But at the lower levels, people play together, friends play together, and I really
think that’s the strength of what we do here.” So, the leagues have made room for less
competitive and less skilled men, and for men of varying ages. However, at the games I
observed other than the Jets/Jetts coed tournament, this did not translate into behaviors
that could be described as feminine. No one spoke about homosexuality. As for older
men and less skilled men, they may often choose a team name that is self-deprecating,
but they tended to look fairly serious on the court, regardless of their division.
At the other end of the spectrum, hyper-masculinity is discouraged in the leagues.
League and tournament organizers expressed distaste for behaviors such as fighting,
name-calling, or unnecessary roughness. Players or teams are in jeopardy of losing their
spot in a league or tournament if they exhibit this behavior.
One of the guys that got into a fight at one of the tournaments, we banned
him for a whole year, and he shows up at my daughter’s wedding.
[laughs] He married one of my daughter’s friends. I said, “Hi, how are
you?” It’s been fun. (Ben)

Ben, a leader in early girls’ and women’s leagues in Los Angeles, had exposure to men’s
play through refereeing and volunteer work. His story shows the interconnections of
community and the dual “dangers” in acting against the rules of the leagues – 1)
restrictions within the leagues and 2) social awkwardness when associating with
community members one may know through the leagues. Since Ben was such a
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prominent figure, fights in one league or tournament could mean exclusion from multiple
aspects of the basketball community. He explained:
So we came up with a policy that we basically shoved down everybody’s
throat that said if there’s any kind of flagrant technical foul, they’re out of
the next game automatically. And when we say they’re out, they can’t
play until the next game. That means that they cannot coach a women’s
team or any other team that our officials are working the game. So that
put a crimp in some of the guys, because some of the guys got into fights.
And then they couldn’t coach the girls’ teams.

Rebecca had started her own peripheral men’s league to serve an area of town
underrepresented in the other more central leagues. She made sure that the rules were
clear to the men who participated:
As far as adult league, the players, like I said, pretty much have to be in
that same line of thinking as me. I don’t want to say you can’t play if you
don’t think like me, but you know you can’t be out here for blood and
guts and you know getting into fights and that kind of stuff.

The J-leagues are known for being gentler and kinder than the Parks and Recreation
leagues, so even though there is an appreciation of competitiveness and intensity, fighting
and extreme roughness are discouraged.
During my many hours of game observations, I only witnessed one altercation.
During a men’s game at the Las Vegas tournament, a player who was racially ambiguous
(possibly white or half Asian) fouled an Asian player on the other team. The Asian
player fell to the ground, securing the call. Both the fouler and some white fans in the
stands began to heckle the referee for making the call, claiming that the fouled player was
clearly acting and that no foul was merited. As things escalated, the fouler decided to
reenact the alleged foul and pushed the fouled player, who again fell. At this point, the
referee ejected the fouler from the game. Now highly agitated, the fouler decided to
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“demonstrate” the foul another time and pushed the fouled player into his team’s bench,
forcing him to tumble over some chairs. At no time did the fouled player ever fight back
and no related fights started. The player and his fans were ordered to leave the
gymnasium and, as they were leaving, one of the white fans yelled back at the referee,
“Ref, you suck! No wonder you ref for Asian League!”
As I thought back on this event, I felt that it was fairly miraculous that this
altercation stayed so one-sided, with one player conducting most of the bad behavior
(although the fouled player may indeed have been acting or passive aggressive in his
actions). However, with the strict rules against fighting, the other players had nothing to
gain by showing any response other than a passive one, shedding all of the negative light
on this one player. Any reciprocity and a player or team risked losing a spot at the
coveted Las Vegas Tournament that currently has a waiting list. Mainstream norms of
masculinity may have dictated that players defend their pride against such physical and
verbal cuts as were made by (possibly) non-Asian players and fans, but the masculinity
guided by the leagues directed the men towards a more cautious strategy that eventually
worked to their benefit. The offending persons were extracted and there were most likely
no sanctions for the remaining players.

Asian-American Masculinity
Participation in J-League basketball is powerful precisely because it represents a
hybrid approach to practicing “cultural citizenship” (Lim 2006; Rosaldo 1997), or a sense
of belonging to the larger society through common social practices. Boys and men in the
J-Leagues can engage in practices popular to the mainstream, as well as connected to
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hegemonic masculinity, such as basketball, providing “counternarratives to the
mainstream construction of racial minorities as unassimilable peoples occupying a
liminal space outside the imagined nation-state.” (Lim 2006, 12). Playing basketball is a
way to show belonging to the mainstream culture. However, by practicing basketball
predominately within the context of the ethnically/racially exclusive leagues allows for
other sources of counternarratives: 1) through the freedom to express “Japaneseness”,
“Japanese Americaness”, “Asianness” or “Asian Americaness” and 2) through the ability
to assert the superiority of the J-Leagues over mainstream basketball.
Although simply being in the company of other Japanese and Asian Americans
meant a great deal of shared experiences and some degree of similar cultural background,
two more visible practices stood out as being connected to Japanese/American or
Asian/American: team names and food favorites. Although it was not all that common,
team names that may have been referring to Asian/American words or symbols came up
from time to time. In a mainstream league, one could imagine that it would be
uncommon to find similar Asian-inspired team names. For example, I found teams with
the following names participating in the CYC boys’ winter league (2009-10): Samurai,
Kolohe Boyz (Hawaiian term), Tofu, Dragons, and Wild Dragons. These names
demonstrate that the boys are at times choosing team names that emphasize their
Japanese/Americaness or Asian/Americaness, rather than trying to follow mainstream
patterns wholeheartedly. Food choices also demonstrate a similar pattern. Even though
most basketball families are multigenerational Americans, many food choices made for
post-game snacks or sold at tournaments represent choices that are Japanese (rice,
noodles, teriyaki chicken) or Japanese American / Hawaiian (spam musubi). Team
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names and food choices do not necessarily represent masculinity, but the ability to
practice hegemonic masculinity through sports was paired with spaces that also allowed
for the practice of Asian/Americaness, practices that are generally considered marginal to
hegemonic masculinity.
These counternarratives are paired with less subversive responses to mainstream,
hegemonic ideals. As Chen (1999) found in a study of Chinese Americans, common
responses to hegemonic masculinity ended up reinforcing the idea that “a man is rightly
measured by his athleticism, his sexual conquests, his pocketbook, and his social
enlightenment … Chinese American men do not measure up; and that their failure to do
so is typical.” (601). Many participants in the J-Leagues view themselves as having
physical limitations to mainstream participation, accepting the logic that they were unable
to compete in mainstream contexts because they are short or small. This is a common
belief overall, but even more so for boys who seemed to prove the point by seldom
playing at the varsity level in high school or at a local college or university.
To a certain extent participants viewed their participation in the J-Leagues as
necessary due to height limitations. Even so, J-League participants also were generally
willing and able to defend the J-Leagues as far superior to other playing opportunities.
For example, Jimmy is Chinese American, but is very involved in the J-Leagues.
Chinese leagues are there, but they’re not as organized, they’re not as
efficient as the JA leagues. JA leagues, like our tournament, we have our
schedule out, even with 513 teams, we’ll have our schedule out two to
three weeks in advance. AAU tournaments or NJB tournaments, two days
before the tournament you don’t have a schedule. They’re not as
organized.

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Jimmy claims that the J-Leagues are not only better organized than similar ethnic-based
leagues, such as the Chinese leagues, but also more organized than AAU and NJB which
are national organizations that generally have paid staff and coaches. Jimmy also stated
that the coaching and skills taught in J-Leagues are generally superior. Additionally, the
community atmosphere was seen as different or superior to more serious competition.
This allowed for a “kinder” environment, as described by Elise:
I think they’re less competitive. I mean, they’re still competitive, like, we
still want to win, but it’s more about everybody plays and everybody
wants to have fun. I felt like it was a kinder atmosphere. For AAU, it’s
like you’re there for the scouts to see you, and just to win. But for Asian
league, it was just a fun thing to go to.

Participants felt that the J-Leagues were a good system and this allowed them to take
pride in this Japanese American or Asian American version of basketball. It was also
understood as producing a hybrid or new Japanese American culture. As Genevieve was
able to articulate: “Even though I’m very Americanized, I think there is kind of a special
bond just insuring a same ethnic … culture, I would say.” This alternative practice of
sports allowed for ethnic cohesion and pride and seemed to act as somewhat of a
protective barrier against outside discrimination (see chapter 4).

Conclusion
In this chapter, I have presented data that shows how a multi-layered gender
inclusiveness in basketball is a key mechanism in creating a Japanese American
“community of practice.” A sense of kinship is both created and sustained through
participation in the J-Leagues. It is just as important for families with daughters as
families with sons to become involved, requiring the existence of ample playing
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opportunities for both sexes. Not only do the J-Leagues provide ample opportunities for
both sexes, they also provide a spectrum of opportunities that appeal to a wide variety of
women and men who are free to engage in a range of gender performances and roles in
relation to basketball. In particular, the greater diversity of options open to the JA
women in these leagues allows for girls and women to be active participants, thus
increasing their involvement and devotion to the leagues. Therefore gender-inclusiveness
is a key component of the growing prosperity of the leagues, especially at the youth level,
and by extension, to the continuing construction of an ethnic community.
Most sport scholars would agree that mainstream sports environments tend to
uphold the gender order. In the case of the J-Leagues, we are able to see a gender regime
that in some ways mirrors that gender order, but in other ways seems to show signs of a
growing resistance to mainstream norms. Although far from perfect in terms of gender
egalitarianism, the J-Leagues do give us a view of what it may look like for men and
women to play together (sometimes on the same teams, but always in the same settings
and community) in a way that is respectful of girls’ and women’s involvement and open
to a wide range of male and female participants.
What are the conditions and structures that make gender inclusiveness in sport a
possible and valued endeavor? The J-Leagues are part of a very specific community
made up of members from a shared racial/ethnic group. Therefore, the contexts produced
by the J-Leagues within the Japanese American community are far from generalizable,
nor are they easily reproduced in other contexts. Still, examining the patterns that have
emerged in this group’s community of practice surrounding basketball reveals several
important issues for further reflection.
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First, the J-Leagues show it is possible for a group, community or institution to
view girls’ and women’s participation in sport as important and valued. Japanese
Americans seem to appreciate this active participation as instrumental to the group’s
goals such as cohesion and the maintenance of group ties. It is probable that the more
central the sport enterprise is to the community, the more important it becomes to
facilitate community inclusion in order to build ties across generations, skill levels, and
between the sexes. To keep everyone involved, it has to be expansive, connected to
community institutions, and flexible enough to accommodate a wide range of
participants. The upshot is that many types of men and women are able to play and
experience an identity as a basketball player. The inclusiveness appears to extend to an
array of gendered practices and, to a certain extent, alternative identities, such as lesbian-
identified players.
Second, the goals of community-building, particularly for a group facing past or
present discrimination and controlling images, appear to be strong enough as to disrupt
some of the dominant gender patterns in sport. Despite Asian Americans facing
racialization in U.S. culture as feminine, weak, and small, the J-Leagues cannot be
viewed a simply a project to shore up masculine identity among its male participants. It
may be most notable that the many male community leaders who run the J-Leagues do so
in way that is inclusive of not only girls and women, but of men of different ages and
abilities. Organizers do not appear to be creating basketball experiences the sake of
giving male participants access to hegemonic masculinity. Instead, they eschew aspects
of hyper-masculinity by strictly monitoring behavior in the J-Leagues.
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Since the Japanese American collective identity is formed, in part, through the J-
Leagues and the forums and interactions they make possible, this identity formation
works in concert with and helps to form J-League patterns of inclusiveness. J-League
participants view the leagues as highly organized activities providing a family
atmosphere. They view themselves as community-oriented and as kind to one another.
Thus, the J-Leagues are structured so that everyone has the best experience possible and
this is interpreted as competitive play (against appropriate opponents) in a kind
environment (not overly physical or aggressive). Rules establish boundaries of the
community, who belongs and who does not, and promote inclusion of all community
members. Rules also prohibit unkind behavior and there are strict sanctions for those
who do not comply. The inclusiveness creates a structure of opportunity, particularly
important for girls and women in the league. The kindness prevents hypermasculinity
from dominating play and discourages behaviors that put-down or alienate other players
(male or female).
The impact of the patterns seen in the J-Leagues is that most Japanese Americans
view other Japanese Americans as potential (even assumed) basketball players, no matter
their sex, height, or disposition. Particularly amongst younger generations, J-League
participants view themselves on equal-footing and acknowledge the basketball
knowledge and skills of both men and women. The resulting attitudes towards women’s
participation in sport are very egalitarian. Some of the structures of the J-Leagues,
however, are not.
The J-Leagues offer an interesting conundrum – can inclusiveness exist without
egalitarianism? The J-Leagues are dominated by men in positions of authority. In this
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way, they tend to look like most mainstream sport institutions, a gender regime that
mirrors and reifies the gender order. This is easily predictable. The participants in the J-
Leagues do not live in a bubble and often having playing experiences (as well as much of
their life experiences) outside of the J-Leagues that reinforce male dominance,
particularly in the world of sport. What is potentially surprising (given this gendered
division of labor) is the community-wide support for both boys and girls to become
involved in basketball (some describe participation as nearly compulsory). This trend is
partly explained by the aforementioned community identity and related practices that
value inclusiveness and kindness. It also appears to be on the rise.
There are signs that the J-Leagues may be shifting towards more egalitarian
divisions of labor and less sex-segregated playing opportunities. Trends such as women
coaching boys and men and the expansion of coed leagues, if these trends continue, may
gradually move the J-leagues into less hierarchical, less male-dominated directions. It
may be that the structure of opportunity for women as players pays gradual dividends,
with more and more women emerging with skills and knowledge that make them ideal
coaches and leaders. However, this will also depend on trends in the mainstream since
outside pressures from other gender regimes (in the family, at work) put pressure on
women that can prevent them from having enough time and energy to take on time-
consuming volunteer work.
In the next chapter, I will examine the role of Japanese-American women who
have found success playing college and professional level basketball. While the men
tend to be the coaches and commissioners, the women tend to be the icons. They are the
role models for the next generations of players. Successful female players, as symbols of
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mainstream success, have become important to the community as a whole and may
support the relatively egalitarian attitudes (if not practices) found in the J-Leagues.
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CHAPTER THREE: “Little Dynamos”: Japanese-American Women as Basketball
Icons

At USC’s Galen Center star guard Jamie Hagiya played in her last regular
season home game. After a win versus the University of Arizona, Hagiya
and her fellow players have promised an autograph session in the foyer of
the new gymnasium. Only minutes after the close of the game, a long,
winding line of people begins to form in anticipation. Dozens of
Japanese-American girls and their families wait patiently alongside other
fans for a chance to greet Hagiya and the rest of the USC squad.
(Fieldnotes, February 17, 2007)

It’s a Sunday afternoon and cross-town rivals University of Southern
California and University of California, Los Angeles are facing off in a
women’s basketball game at UCLA’s Pauley Pavilion. Midway into the
second quarter, role-player and junior guard Allison Taka moves to the
score table to check into the game for the first time. As her name is
announced and Taka runs out onto the court, a wave of applause and
cheers passes over the crowd. As I look around, there are Asian faces
sprinkled throughout the fans, clapping and cheering loudly. (Fieldnotes,
January 11, 2009)

These selections from my fieldnotes only begin to illustrate the local-level support
and even fame that Japanese-American college-level players have enjoyed in recent
years. Overwhelmingly, these shining stars who often garner Japanese-American
community devotion are women athletes. They represent a visible outgrowth of gender-
inclusiveness within the Japanese-American basketball community. By providing early
training and support of girls in basketball, the community has fed talented players into the
local high schools and “club” teams and then into colleges and universities. Some have
even played professionally. Players who have gained mainstream success are then lauded
at community events and covered in the community newspaper. Recognition of these
local sports icons appears to have reinforced the popularity and esteem of J-League
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basketball. Successful girls and women have captured the support and admiration of
community members of all ages and both genders, contributing to an overall respect for
women’s basketball.
Local basketball icons also play the role of representing the community – both to
its own members and to the outside world. Within the analytical frameworks suggested
by Glenn (2002) and Messner (2002), they are cultural symbols that represent race and
gender meanings. The strength of their roles as icons and role models also lends
symbolic resources to the gender-inclusive structure of the J-Leagues. This chapter will
explain some of the roots and manifestations of the Japanese-American basketball icons
and also interrogate the meanings attached to these athletes to better understand the
symbolic role of the basketball icons for the Japanese-American community. I will
explore the idea that gender plays a vital part in how these icons are created, consumed
and understood. To do this, I will draw from interviews and observations, then through
an analysis of the sports page of the Los Angeles Japanese-American newspaper, the
Rafu Shimpo followed by interview data on how people incorporate the newspaper into
their larger, word-of mouth networks that provide information and interpretation of iconic
players and coaches.

The Birth of a Star
The development of skilled female basketball players that began in Japanese-
American communities along the West Coast as early as the 1920s has blossomed in the
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age of post-Title IX
15
opportunities for women in sports. Although fairly invisible on the
national scene, Japanese-American women, particularly point guards, have dotted the
West Coast college-level basketball competition since there have been widespread teams
and scholarships available for women. Many are role-players, but there have been
several stand-out players. In recent years, the successes of Natalie Nakase, point guard
for UCLA (1999-2003), and Jamie Hagiya, point guard for USC (2003-2007), have been
the most exciting for the Southern California community. In the following section I will
describe some of the recent history of Japanese-American women who have found
success in mainstream basketball.

Title IX and Early Japanese-American Women’s Success
As described in chapter one, there is a long history of Japanese-American women
participating in community games and leagues. However, with the exception of some
church league and athletic union play in the pre-WWII era and some limited organized
teams after the War, most Japanese-American women prior to the late 1960s played
basketball mainly in childhood, if at all. According to most accounts, basketball was not
as popular an activity – for men or women – as it is has become in the past 40 years. In
1968, a women’s league, the Southern California Women’s Athletic Union (SCWAU),
was founded in the image of the then very popular men’s league, the Nissei Athletic
Union (NAU). Founders discontinued most rules specific to women (particularly the

15
Title IX is an amendment to the Higher Education Act passed by the United States Congress in 1972. It
reads “No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, or denied
the benefits of, or subjected to discrimination under any educational program or activity receiving federal
aid” (Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972, vol. 20 U.S.C. sec. 1681).
141
split court
16
) and began building an active and popular basketball program, demonstrating
a growing interest in basketball among Japanese-American women and providing
evidence that society was beginning to change how it viewed women’s sports.
A burgeoning women’s movement and the transformational legislation that came
with it, Educational Amendment Title IX, acted as a match that lit afire Japanese-
American girls’ and women’s interest in basketball. The new opportunities in secondary
schools and institutions of higher education added at least a modicum of mainstream
societal acceptance for women in sport, allowing what had been for these girls a
primarily community-based activity to become something they also enjoyed in
mainstream contexts. Most women participating in the leagues whom I interviewed did
not necessarily have their eyes on college-level play, but many had looked forward to
playing in high school, an opportunity that in most areas would not have existed without
Title IX. A growing number of Japanese-American women currently play or consider
playing college basketball, and after a few Japanese Americans made it to this level, it
only encouraged these aspirations. If society was somewhat slow to embrace female
athletes, the Japanese-American women knew that any mainstream successes at the very
least brought pride to their communities. Community support provided a buffer to any
derision a female athlete may have faced in the mainstream, and still does today, as many
of the women playing currently described facing the intersection of racialized and

16
Early women’s basketball often included rules intended to prevent overexertion due to perceptions of
female frailty. In this vein, the court was split into segments and the players prevented from crossing from
one area to the next. In the 1930s, the game switched from a three-court format to a two-court format. In
the late 1960s to early 1970s, the game format gradually changed to the full court version we know today.
(McElwain, 2004; Theberge, 1989).
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gendered assumptions about their athleticism outside of the J-League context (see chapter
four).
The foundations of basketball in the community paired with the support and
encouragement women generally received from other Japanese Americans positioned
Japanese-American girls in a unique way to capitalize on the new opportunities offered
by Title IX. When interviewees now in their forties and fifties describe mainstream girls’
and women’s basketball during the late 1960s through the early 1980s, they talk about of
the level of play with disparagement. When entering high school and college basketball
during this era, Japanese-American girls and women tended to be far ahead in skill and
ability compared to most other players.
Colleen Matsuhara is truly a standout player and coach who got her start in the
Northern California J-Leagues. She played basketball at Sacramento City College (where
she is in their Hall of Fame) and at Sacramento State (1970-73). She was an assistant
coach with the WNBA team, the Los Angeles Sparks (1998-99), as well as an assistant at
top programs such as USC (2000-02), University of Texas (1986-89), and UCLA (1978-
80). She was the head coach at Nebraska (1981-83) and UC Irvine (1992-97) and is
currently the head basketball coach and assistant professor of physical education at West
Los Angeles College (since 2002). She also has been a consultant/coach on numerous
films with basketball themes.
Matsuhara described her experiences as an adolescent in the J-Leagues as
compared to her experiences playing in high school during the late 1960s in Northern
California:
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[In the Japanese-American community] it was just the thing to do. There
wasn’t any stigma attached to it, because it was boys and girls …
Whenever we had tournaments, it was always boys’ and girls’ teams, not
just an all-girls’ tournament and all-boys’. The [boys’] team in
Sacramento that we traveled with, we’d go watch their games and they’d
root for our games. It was a very close-knit group. In the outside,
meaning the high school … I started playing on my high school teams,
but the level of play I thought was really not very good. In fact, I stopped
going out for my high school team when one day the high school coach
asked me, did I want to help coach the team? I thought to myself, what’s
wrong with this picture? If I have to help him …

Matsuhara eventually left high school basketball, but she did end up playing for
Sacramento State even though there were no scholarships available for women at the
time.
Another prominent player and coach, Marcia Murota, also did not bother playing
for her high school team during the early 1970s, but in college decided to try out for the
team at California State University, Los Angeles (CSULA). She described her playing
experience (1976-80):
Well, at that time … basketball for women wasn’t a big deal yet, so a
friend of mine was playing on the team here and when I came to the
campus she was just like, “You should come out for the team.” … So, the
first year I was here I came out for a practice and they weren’t very good
and they were doing basic things at practice, so I said, “Ehhh, I'm not
going to play this year.” Then the following year my teammate … came
out of high school so I convinced her to play. I said, “Come here and
we’ll play.” And our other friend here was on the team so…that’s how it
got started … then it was cool because … we ended up being on a
scholarship so it was like…you’re going to pay me to play basketball?
Okay! That’s cool!

Though initially discouraged by the basic level of play at the college level, Murota and
her friends gathered together some J-League players to help build the team. With a roster
of six Asian Americans and six African Americans, Murota and her teammates enjoyed
many successes. They went to the playoffs during her last two years of play, with Murota
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playing starting point guard. Suzie Iwami played alongside Murota for CSULA from
1977-80, setting the school record for most career points, broken only by another
Japanese-American player from Hawaii, Monica Tokoro, in 2004. Iwami was named to
the school’s Hall of Fame in 1986. Murota and Iwami also received some of the first
athletic scholarships offered to women athletes. Murota went on to become the head
coach of women’s basketball at CSULA from 2001-2007, and recruited several player
from the J-Leagues during her tenure there.
The racial makeup of the successful CSULA team reveals not only the
demographics in Southern California where the university is located, but also the greater
likelihood of women from marginalized groups during this era to participate in a sport
that in most U.S. contexts had been deemed inappropriate for white, middle class women.
There may have been a J-League advantage over most white women playing at the time,
but African American women have a long history of participating in sports that white
women, during the middle of the 20
th
century, fled from because they became perceived
as “unfeminine,” in particular basketball and track and field (Cahn 1994, 2004; Liberti
2004). This history in addition to existing role models, opportunity structures,
socioeconomic conditions, and commitments within the community have led a majority
of African American female athletes to pursue these two sports (Smith 1992).
As reported by interviewees, the J-League advantage in women’s basketball
persisted into the 1980s. In 1982, the NCAA held its first Women's Basketball National
Championship. Shortly thereafter, a championship team from the West Coast included a
Japanese American: Along with Cheryl Miller, another California native, LeeAnne Sera,
a third generation Japanese American, helped earn the University of Southern California
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back to back championships in 1983 and 1984. Sera grew up in Northern California
playing in the J-Leagues. Like Matsuhara and Murota, Sera described poor coaching on
her school teams during the late 1970s and early 1980s: “my junior high school coach
was reading the rules out of a book when she was coaching us.” In high school, she
definitely saw the advantage J-League players had over many others:
A lot of us had the advantage of having really good fundamental training
when we went to try out for the high school teams. A lot of the players
who were trying out didn’t have that fundamental background. They
were learning their fundamentals for the first time as they were trying out.
So, if they were tall and decent athletes, they usually made the team …
But for us, for the Japanese-American athletes, basketball players, we had
a lot of experience already … it really was an advantage.

So, as girls’ organized sports programs returned
17
to schools from the late 1960s onward,
J-League players gradually began to take part in these programs. At first, the level of
coaching discouraged my interviewees from pursuing basketball in these contexts, but
eventually Matsuhara, Murota, and Sera found spaces at the college level where they
could play competitively. All have had successful careers and are known to many in the
community as local heroines.

Intersections with the Gender Order in Sport
The J-Leagues’ encounter with post-Title IX mainstream opportunities in sport
represents an intersection of a local gender regime with the larger gender order.
Although always in flux, there are dominant patterns of gender arrangements in the larger
society at any given time that can be described as the “gender order” (Connell 1995,

17
Basketball was quite popular for women from a wide variety of backgrounds, particularly in certain
regions, during the 1920s – 40s and many schools offered organized play. In the 1950s and 1960s,
however, organized women’s basketball virtually disappeared from schools along with most other women’s
sports programs (Grundy, 2000).
146
2002). Pre-Title IX, the gender order in the United States emphasized an ideology of
natural difference (Messner 2009) that reserved nearly all sports and sporting
environments for boys and men. Women were either excluded from sport or their
participation was marginalized. Subgroups or particular institutions within the society,
however, create their own patterns of gender arrangements that make sense within the
local context – what Connell calls “gender regimes.” Many regimes simply follow or
reinforce the gender order, but Connell emphasizes that gender regimes can “allow
different encounters” with this order (2002, 83). The Japanese Americans strayed from
patterns dominant in U.S. society by providing teams and leagues for girls and women
from the 1920s onward. However, the community was affected by the gender order;
prior to Title IX, Japanese-American girls and women could not find adequate playing
opportunities in mainstream environments. Because girls’ and women’s basketball
waned in mainstream popularity mid-20
th
Century, interest-level appeared to have also
waned within the Japanese-American community, although to a much lesser degree.
The gender order in sport shifted to a certain degree during the women’s
movement and, most noticeably, when Title IX mandated increases in funding for
women’s sports, giving them greater legitimacy. In the case of women’s basketball, this
also meant building a growing fan base for the popular sport. As mainstream support of
women’s basketball grew, it elevated the status of the Japanese-American women who
participated. For the Japanese-American community, mainstream changes in women’s
sports meant greater admiration and support of women basketball players in the
community. These women already had enjoyed a level of community support and
opportunity not available to most women in the mainstream, but shifts in the larger
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society only increased the interest among Japanese-American girls and women,
improving their status in the J-Leagues. Those that achieved mainstream successes
benefited from star-like status. New generations of players looked up to them and
modeled their own goals after their achievements. The Japanese-American community’s
gender regime again strayed from the gender order in that they put even more energy and
support towards girls’ basketball. Additionally, the J-League community embraced the
women who emerged as successful players. They became icons and role models. Thus,
the patterns in the J-Leagues stand in contrast to the mainstream where women’s sports,
though popular and expanding, still remained marginalized to men’s sports and male
sports icons.

A New Generation of Stars
As more Japanese-American girls joined the J-Leagues and mainstream women’s
basketball continued to increase in popularity in the 1990s and 2000s (marked by the
emergence of professional leagues; of these, the WNBA is still in existence), the stage
was for J-League women to surge into college basketball. The percentage of Asian
American women playing Division I basketball was at an all-time high in 2005-06, when
1.6% of players were Asian/Pacific Islander (Chu 2008; NCAA). The cusp of the
millennium was also a moment when several Japanese-American women were able to
“make it big.” The first example of this is undoubtedly Lindsey Yamasaki, a mixed-race
Japanese American from Oregon who had a very successful career at Stanford University
(1998-2002) followed by a few years of play in the WNBA (2002-2006). The Southern
California community embraced Yamasaki by covering her in the Japanese-American
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community newspaper, inviting her to community events, and attending her college and
professional games. Debbie described the local enthusiasm:
She was very good … there was a couple times we all went to watch her
play a couple of her WNBA games so we’d all go to see her … just me
with San-Tai-San people … but the audience, the spectators were all JA,
just filled with JA little girls.

Yamasaki acknowledged the support by granting interviews and participating in some
California-based Japanese-American events. At the time, the community seemed to view
her as the most successful Japanese-American woman in basketball, as she was a
successful player at a major university with a strong women’s basketball program and
later the first Japanese-American woman to play in the WNBA. However, she did not
fully fit the bill as a local, Southern California Japanese-American heroine. First of all,
she is not fully of Japanese descent, but more importantly, she did not play in the
California J-Leagues. Nevertheless, the community would not have to wait long for two
more athletes to come onto the scene who truly represented the ideal community heroine:
Natalie Nakase, point guard for UCLA (1999-2003), and Jamie Hagiya, point guard for
USC (2003-2007).
What makes Nakase and Hagiya such ideal icons is that they both grew up in
Southern California playing in the J-Leagues and they are both seen as 100% Japanese
(fourth generation). Furthering their appeal, they were both starters on top-level
university teams that are located right in Los Angeles. They were homegrown and easily
accessible, not to mention outstanding athletes. At 5’1” and 5’4”, Nakase and Hagiya
also appeared more representative of the community, unlike 6’2” Yamasaki who stands
much taller than the average Japanese-American woman.
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Hagiya and Nakase have continued their success by playing and coaching
professionally in Europe, but in the off-season, they have another life in Southern
California hosting basketball camps, coaching traveling teams, speaking at events,
making requested appearances, training up and coming players, and playing in the
occasional tournament. Their success and willingness to volunteer and stay active in the
basketball community have made them local super-stars.
When these women play in public arenas, participate in public events, or appear
in newspapers, these experiences and images become part of the local popular culture.
Messner (2002) suggests that we examine how these popular images “provide symbolic
resources” for processes such as the social construction of race and gender (2). Although
it is impossible to know all of the different meanings that Japanese Americans are making
through these basketball icons, in the following sections I will describe many of the
venues for public consumption of the players and provide some of the reactions and
interpretations that I gathered from observations and interviews.

In the Spotlight
Bacon (1999) conceives of collective ethnic identity as being formed in public
forums, spaces where people in the community can communally negotiate the form and
content of their community. Public consumption of sports icons offers many avenues for
the interaction of community members who essentially negotiate their sense of ethnic
identity through the meanings that they attribute to the icon. This can take the form of
audiences at games featuring the prized players, participation in (and creation of) events
where the players are featured, and newspaper coverage of the players.
150
Games and Event Appearances. Many members of the community have enjoyed
watching the more prominent Japanese-American basketball players in action at local
college and professional games. Some of these games have become events in
themselves. For example, when Jamie Hagiya’s team (University of Southern California)
played Corrie Mizusawa’s team (University of Oregon) on January 4th, 2005, the Rafu
Shimpo and the Little Tokyo Service joined with the University of Southern California to
promote the event, advertising the competition as the “Downtown Showdown.” Even
though Mizusawa graduated later that year, the same parties held a similar themed event
a year later on February 11, 2006. The USC athletic web site described the event as a
way “to celebrate the rich tradition of women's basketball as well as raise funds and
awareness for the Little Tokyo Recreation Center building project” (Jan. 31, 2006). The
Downtown Showdown events formalized what was already a strong following of Jamie
Hagiya’s career at USC. The university was able to grow their audience, the Rafu
Shimpo to grow their readership, and the LTSC raised funds and awareness for their
project, a recreation center in Little Tokyo. The Rafu Shimpo also distributed a feature
article from the paper on Kai Felton, who was then an assistant coach for the University
of Southern California women’s basketball team. She is half Japanese and grew up
playing in the J-Leagues in Southern California.
Community events and tournaments are also spaces where the community
celebrates its successful basketball players. The college-level basketball players become
great resources for fundraising and attracting participants. The following is from my
fieldnotes:
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Wandering through the Japanese Cultural Institute carnival, I smell
teriyaki-style barbeque wafting through the hot June air. I head inside of
the main building for refuge from the heat and find Natalie Nakase and
Jamie Hagiya in the upstairs library. Girls hover around a nearby table
waiting to surrender $3.00 for a digital photo with the players. I get the
urge to have my own photographic memento, but it’s nearly impossible to
get the cashier’s attention as she is being inundated with requests from
young girls, and also trying to handle printing the photos. Slowing the
process further, Nakase and Hagiya stop to talk to each of their fans and
challenge them to a shooting contest at a play-size basket set up in the
corner. The tallies are neatly recorded on the blackboard at the back of
the room: USC vs. UCLA. I think USC is winning. As each photo rolls
off the printer, Nakase and Hagiya stop and sign them, writing special
messages to their fans. (June 27, 2009)

At the JCI Carnival I was able to witness the interactions between the beloved players
and their fans. Hagiya and Nakase are by far the most popular choices for these kinds of
events and are often willing to participate.
One or both women have appeared at the San-Tai-San basketball tournament in
recent years. San-Tai-San (meaning “three-on-three” in Japanese) is another fundraiser
for the recreation facility in Little Tokyo (a historically Japanese neighborhood located in
downtown Los Angeles). Hagiya has been an especially popular star at the event. The
first year I participated as a volunteer at San-Tai-San, I immediately felt the reverence
towards her:
I did not get to see Jaime receive her accolades at the close of the day
because of the community tournament. While we were waiting to play,
however, Jaime walked by our court and smiled a “hello” to a couple of
people. She didn’t look my way. I believe it was Kimiko who said to me
or to anyone in ear shot: (something like) “That’s Jaime Hagiya. She
plays for USC and she’s really amazing.” Those who knew Jamie were
saying hello and others were murmuring. This was someone really
important walking by. (Fieldnotes, 5/12/07)

LTSC and the San-Tai-San committee use the fame of Hagiya, Nakase, and other
prominent players and coaches to help build enthusiasm for the recreation center project
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(the proposed facility is now named Budokan, after the Japanese word for gymnasium).
Since basketball is recognized as one of the stronger unifying forces in the Japanese-
American community of Southern California, the idea to build a gymnasium or recreation
center has been circulating for decades (Jenks 2008). This, many believe, could bring
otherwise widely dispersed Japanese-American families back to the symbolic center of
the community. Community leaders surmise that if teams hold their practices and games
at the gym, they will be likely to have a meal at a Little Tokyo restaurant, shop at a store,
or pair it with a visit to the Japanese American National Museum. What is difficult is
that the building as currently conceived will likely only house two basketball courts.
Demand for the facility may be impossible to meet, but its presence could still attract
people to the neighborhood and stand as a symbolic shared resource that represents a
more contemporary aspect of the community.
Therefore, in many ways it is important to the committee to select prominent
Japanese-American basketball players to appear at the tournament. I observed the
process of “special guest” selection during San-Tai-San planning committee meetings
over a three year period (2007-09). When I arrived, it had already become a pattern to
invite prominent players to serve various roles during the tournament. During Jamie
Hagiya’s time at USC, she had become a favorite of the committee and of the children
who participated. Hagiya often brought other team members from USC and added
enormous enthusiasm to the opening and award ceremonies. She has the fame and the
personality. As Hagiya graduated and her participation waned, there was a scramble to
figure out who to invite and what role they should play. No one seemed to quite have the
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popularity of Hagiya whose success was so fresh. Furthermore, a couple committee
members expressed that it would be nice to have new blood or even a male player.
Ian: There’s no guys? There’s no man players?

Brandon: I could bring in my [J-League] team.

[Laughter]

(Fieldnotes, February 28, 2007)

Ian is a volunteer who led the San-Tai-San committee in 2007-08 and was one of
the more vocal advocates for bringing in some talented male role models to help with
San-Tai-San. By joking that he would bring his J-League team to the event, Brandon
seems to be indicating that his teammates would be the highest level of male basketball
players available. Not many Japanese-American men fit the favored criteria of a special
guest: a successful player from a big university. However, in an effort to include men
and some new women, in 2007 the committee decided to cast their net wider, recruiting
women and men who were currently playing at all types of colleges and universities.
They also suggested including some prominent Japanese-American high school and
college coaches. Some of these players and coaches would be unknown to most of the J-
League community. After the committee had been successful in securing three of four
players (who all turned out to be women), Charles, a committee member and employee of
the Little Tokyo Service Center, commented, “We’re turning them into stars” (Fieldnotes,
March 21, 2007).
Although the committee often brainstormed possible guests, it seemed to be
protocol to go through two women who were members on the LTSC board. The
committee often solicited these women’s help in both suggesting and communicating
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with proposed special guests. Their selections and contacts tended to be female.
Although the committee contacted a few male coaches and players, the only man that the
committee got close to recruiting for the event was D.A.G., or “Dribbling Asian Guy,” a
performer whom they had featured at a former San-Tai-San. However, this performer
proved unavailable.
At another three-on-three tournament, Nikkei Games, they had already
implemented the catch-all strategy in recruiting special guests, but their tournament had a
different format for featuring these guests. Whereas San-Tai-San used special guests for
a variety of tasks including announcements, leading stretches, raffle prize distribution,
and awards presentations (often having long debates about how to keep them busy), the
Nikkei Games used guests exclusively for the opening ceremony. The featured guests
either gave a speech or sang the National Anthem (adults) or performed by doing
dribbling and passing drills to popular music (youth). The year that I observed the
planning meeting for Nikkei Games (2008) they did not mention special guests because
they planned to have a less significant opening ceremony due to a smaller venue that year
(the Pyramid was unavailable). However, in 2007, I was able to see the special guests in
action. A Japanese-American female lawyer gave a speech, but the remaining speakers,
all sports-related figures, were men. None of these men were players – they were
coaches and leaders of sports organizations. When the children began to perform, I
recognized a couple of the teenage boys as Tyler and Garrett James, brothers who the
Rafu Shimpo had featured recently for their accomplishments on their high school team,
but it was another performance that stood out:
155
Two teenage girls stand opposite two teenage boys, facing off at the half
court line. They are all wearing similar basketball gear and each holds a
basketball. Rap music begins playing over the loudspeakers and the four
begin dribbling the ball continuously through one leg and then the other.
The rap music stops, the four freeze, and "Anything You Can Do" by
Irving Berlin begins to boom loudly through the gymnasium
loudspeakers. The girls begin a new drill, dribbling the ball back and
forth through one leg, and the boys start to do the same drill. A female
voice belts out the lyrics: “Anything you can do I can do better! I can do
anything better than you!” And then the male voice: “No you can’t.”
“Yes I can!” Again, the girls switch drills and the boys follow. By the
third drill, a move called the spider, one of the boys accidentally dribbles
off his foot and the ball goes shooting off to a far corner of the gym.
Seconds later, the second boy does the same, leaving the two girls alone
at the center court, tapping away at their bouncing basketballs. Victory.
Applause and cheers can be heard throughout the crowd. (Fieldnotes,
August 17, 2007)

This showdown of boys versus girls seemed to be the perfect metaphor for the gender
dynamics within J-League basketball: the girls occupy the center of attention, while the
boys are not keeping up. Of course, the male leaders who spoke at the beginning of the
ceremonies tell a different side to this story. As discussed in chapter two, the leadership
is still very male dominated, and nowhere was this more readily apparent than in the
suburban communities surrounding Los Angeles. Many of families active in Nikkei
Games are from these South Los Angeles County and Orange County suburban
communities. When the Nikkei Games held coaches’ meetings at the event in both 2007
and 2008, I could barely see a single woman’s face amongst the men gathered, even
though the coaches represented girls’, boys’ and coed teams. It was an Orange County
resident, Kevin, who told me that the women were too busy raising children to coach.
Ironically, it is these same suburban communities that actually helped to produce
stars like Natalie Nakase and Jamie Hagiya. In addition to well-coached J-League
opportunities, there are also “club” or traveling teams available in these areas. Many top
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J-League players who can afford the steep costs of participating in national leagues such
as the Amateur Athletic Union (AAU) now form teams dominated by J-League players.
Sans ethnicity rules, they often fill out the team with players of other ethnicities to help
them compete on the national stage. It is these traveling teams that help young women
get noticed by college recruiters and that also provide extra playing opportunities against
top-level competition to help build the skills of potential college-bound players.
Still, the main distinction is generational. The Sansei represent the male leaders
who occupy much of the public spaces, particularly in suburban communities. A few
Sansei women are leaders in the more urban core of Los Angeles. The Yonsei,
meanwhile, represent the new generation of basketball players. In this generation, the
public space is more and more dominated by female players. It remains to be seen if the
shift in leadership will follow.
Newspaper Coverage of Women in Basketball. In addition to public events such
as tournaments, another public forum (Bacon 1999) would be an ethnic community
newspaper. The content of the sports coverage in such a paper can provide clues as to
how the community understands itself and how they prefer to present themselves through
narratives and images. It can also represent a negotiation within an ethnic community,
since readers have the ability to respond to coverage and submit ideas for stories. When I
interviewed the sports editor, he explained, “We really rely heavily on word of mouth
from readers. That really is the bedrock of our local coverage … We hear about people
from staff members, parents, coaches … We get a lot of e-mails.” The publisher of the
Rafu Shimpo also has a special relationship to basketball – the Komai family has not only
157
been the longtime publisher of the newspaper, but also heavily involved with a Japanese-
American men’s league in Los Angeles.
Because Japanese Americans are active in the production and consumption of the
narratives and images in the Rafu Shimpo, they influence the content and express ideas
about sport that are meaningful to them. As girls and women have become markers of
mainstream success in the community’s favorite sport of basketball, coverage of these
women in the community newspaper has become a way to valorize the leagues as
symbols of the community, praise the accomplishments of individuals facing challenges
in mainstream contexts, and put forth a model of an ideal Japanese-American community
member.
It is in this context that I found that the Rafu Shimpo dedicates more of its
basketball coverage to girls and women than to boys and men. I examined the sports
page of the Rafu Shimpo, currently the only Japanese-American newspaper serving the
Los Angeles area. The study encompassed the year of 2007 (for more information on
method, see chapter one). Over the year of 2007, articles tracking women’s basketball
were 54% of basketball-related articles, whereas the paper allotted men’s basketball 20%
of the coverage. The remaining articles were coded as gender neutral. This asymmetrical
coverage of women’s sports stands out as different from the paper’s general treatment of
sports coverage: men’s sports represented 60% of all articles, whereas coverage of
women represented 18%. (See Table 1 for more detail) For both sports in general and
basketball in particular, these percentages are dramatically different than what is found in
most mainstream media outlets. Women now receive less than 2% of sports coverage on
mainstream television such as during the evening news in Los Angeles and on ESPN’s
158
nationally broadcast show SportsCenter (Messner and Cooky 2010). The print media
also exhibits tendencies toward the “symbolic annihilation of sportswomen” (Pedersen
2002a, 306). When narrowed down to basketball coverage in print outlets, women can
receive up to 25% of basketball (e.g. Dozier 1999; Kian, Vincent, and Mondello 2008;
Silverstein 1996).

Table 1
The Rafu Shimpo
Sports: All of 2007

All Sports
Articles
(n = 756)
Basketball Articles
(17% of total)
(n= 127)
Men’s 60% 20%
Women’s 18% 54%
Neutral/Co-Ed 23% 25%

Lead Story Photos. Lead photos are what attract the eye to the sports page.
They are the biggest photo, generally near the top of the page and are usually
accompanied by lead stories. Over the entire year, 73% of all lead photos were of men
18
.
(See Table 2). However, for the first three months of 2007 (the height of the basketball
season), despite the greater proportion of articles covering men’s sports (54% during this
period), lead photos were exactly proportional between men’s and women’s sports. (See
Table 2). Fifteen of the 21 lead photos of women (71%) covered girls’ or women’s
basketball. Again, this stands in stark contrast to mainstream media coverage. By

18
A small number of neutral lead photos were omitted from the total count.
159
analyzing coverage of high school sports by daily newspapers in Florida, Pedersen
(2002a) found that high school boys’ sports “received disproportionately more prominent
photographic display” (311) than their female counterparts.

Table 2
The Rafu Shimpo
Lead Photos
Jan – Mar, 2007
(n = 42)
All of 2007
(n = 162)
Men’s 50% 73%
Women’s 50% 27%

Basketball Photos. Examining only basketball photos, photos of women
outnumbered photos of men during 2007. During the period of January 1 through March
31, 27% of basketball photos depicted men athletes while 73% depicted women athletes.
(See Table 3). Over the entire year, 45% featured players who were boys or men while
55% featured players who were girls or women
19
. (See Table 3). Although only 20% of
the basketball articles in 2007 were about men players (See Table 1), 45% of the photos
featured men (See Table 3). This disproportional preference for photos of men does
parallel mainstream coverage, but it is worth noting that women’s photos make up more
than half of the overall basketball photos, far more than has been recorded in the
mainstream media.

19
A small number of neutral basketball photos were double counted (as both men and women).
160
Table 3
The Rafu Shimpo
Basketball Photos
Jan – Mar, 2007
(n = 42)
All of 2007
(n = 136)
Men’s 27% 45%
Women’s 73% 55%

Content of Mainstream Coverage of Women Athletes
In addition to the coverage being disproportional, the content of mainstream
coverage has also been revealing of a gender hierarchy in sport. In the recent past, a
number of prominent studies discussed the ways that women athletes are portrayed in the
limited coverage that they receive (e.g. Davis, 1997; Duncan, 1990; Duncan & Messner,
1998; Messner, Duncan, & Cooky, 2003; Messner, Duncan, & Jensen, 1993; Messner, et.
al, 2006). The portrayals can be divided into five types of gendered coverage: “gender
marking, compulsory heterosexuality, appropriate femininity, infantilisation and
downplaying sport” (Bruce 2008; Wensing and Bruce 2003):
Gender marking identifies men’s events as ‘the’ events and those played
by females as ‘women’s’ events; compulsory heterosexuality highlights
women as sex objects or in heterosexually-prescribed roles such as wives
or mothers; appropriate femininity emphasises stereotypically female
characteristics such as physical or emotional weakness, tears and concern
for others; infantilisation leads to adult females being called ‘girls’ while
males are more often called ‘men’; and downplaying sport results in a
focus on women’s looks, relationships, sexual orientations and lives
outside sport in ways that devalue their sporting identities. (Bruce, 2008,
p. 60)

Women’s sports have often been trivialized, for example, on television by
sexualizing or making fun of the women’s athletic endeavors (Messner, Duncan and
161
Willms 2006). Photographs depict women athletes as posed/inactive while men athletes
are predominately captured in active, action shots (Hargreaves 1994; Kane and
Greendorfer 1994). In posed shots, women may be dressed not as athletes, but in
feminine attire, helping to assert an idealized (often white) version of femininity. This is
also often an attempt to portray the athlete as undisputedly heterosexual, and can also
include images of pregnancy, children or male partners (Griffin 1998). Other times,
women athletes have been ridiculed for being too masculine. In any number of ways, the
media tends to show its ambivalence towards women’s athleticism. Kane and
Greendorfer (1994) argue that this ambivalence allows the media to at times recognize
female athleticism, but also to cling to more traditional ideas about women’s roles.
It should be noted that the trend of trivializing women athletes may be waning. In
2009 television sportscasts, for example, network affiliates in Los Angeles and
SportsCenter presented very little coverage of women’s athletics, but the coverage that
they did air tended to be respectful (Messner and Cooky 2010). In Pedersen’s 2002(a)
study of coverage of high school sports in Florida dailies, there were no statistically
significant differences in the content of photographs (e.g. posed versus action). However,
mainstream coverage of top female athletes seems to cling to the “heterosexy” image
(Bruce 2008), sometimes produced by the athletes themselves.
Although some of this analysis of women’s depictions may apply to women of all
ethnicities and racial groups, the use of general category of “women” can serve to
normalize white athletes. In recent years, scholars have produced some important work
on mainstream media depictions of non-white women athletes. From historical studies of
African American women in track and field in the 1940s (Cahn 2004) to more
162
contemporary studies of Serena Williams in tennis (Schultz 2005), it is well-documented
that the mainstream media is active in perpetuating stereotypes of African American
women athletes, particularly as hypersexual and animalistic. More has been written
about media portrayals of Asian athletes than Asian American athletes. The former can
sometimes be depicted as invaders, taking over U.S.-based sporting institutions such as
the LPGA (Kim, Walkosz, and Iverson 2006; Shin and Nam 2004) or as mechanical,
emotionless competitors whose size and physicality are subject to frequent commentary
(Sabo, et al. 1996). There may be evidence of the media conflating Asians and Asian
Americans, as suggested by some of the media discourse surrounding Asian American
Olympic ice-skaters Michelle Kwan and Kristi Yamaguchi that implied a questioning of
the skaters’ true status as “Americans” (Tuan 1999).

Basketball Photo Content. Overall, basketball photos in The Rafu Shimpo did
not follow trends in the mainstream media. First, players were rarely depicted in contexts
outside of sports and there was no use of heterosexual or feminine markers. For example,
no women athletes posed with their children or romantic partners. Ironically, the only
romantically-themed photo in 2007 did not depict a woman, but a man, Yao Ming, a
popular NBA player from China, and his new wife. This divergence from the
mainstream can partly be explained by the age of a typical basketball player featured in
the newspaper, generally a high school or college athlete. Even so, the consistency with
which players were photographed in uniform or athletic gear as opposed to street clothes
was markedly different than what has been discussed in prior literature on mainstream
media coverage. There was also no difference in posed versus action photos. (See Table
163
4). For both sexes, action photos were preferred (61% of women’s, 62% of men’s). The
content of men’s and women’s photos was very similar: posed photos depicted the player
gripping a ball, trophy, or plaque, posing for a group photo, or a small, head-shot portrait.
Posed pictures tended to be accompanied by action photos and usually depicted the
player in uniform. Action shots showed the players engaged in more formal competition,
for example, dribbling full-tilt against a defender in a college game.

Table 4
MEN’S (n = 61) WOMEN’S (n= 75)
Posed Action Posed Action
38% 62% 39% 61%

These findings regarding photos appear to parallel those found by Yep (2009) in
coverage published in ethnic community media over fifty years ago. Examining photos
of Helen Wong, a prominent Chinese-American basketball and tennis star, Yep found:
Photographs in the ethnic-based newspapers depicted her in positions of
strength or authority … In addition, several Chinese-language newspapers
showed Wong in action shots, either hitting a tennis ball or drawing a
diagram as a basketball coach … The English- and Chinese language
newspapers from the community simply reported Wong’s wins without
references to her femininity. (106).

Thus, even though some more recent scholarship suggests that the mainstream media
may be standardizing its photographic depictions of men and women in sport (Pedersen
2002a), Chinese-American publications of the 1940s appear to be far ahead of their time.
As has been documented in early twentieth century Jewish communities (Kugelmass
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2007b; Levine 1992), sports stars (typically male) have been a source of pride for many
ethnic communities. In addition to Yep’s (2009) findings about Chinese-American
newspapers, studies of the Black press, Latino magazines, and a newspaper from the Six
Nations Reserve in Ontario (Jamieson 2000; Paraschak 1990; Williams 1987)
demonstrate that racial- and ethnic-based communities can find a similar pride and
appreciation in its successful female athletes, as well. It appears that when it comes to
sports, depictions in race- or ethnic-based media tend to emphasize pride in the
community member’s accomplishments and not on reinforcing a gender hierarchy.
Different contexts lead to different saliencies in terms of gender, race, and class. Because
racially or ethnically marginalized groups are subject to silences or stereotypical
depictions in the mainstream press, they often build counter-hegemonic stories within
their own media. One outgrowth appears to be that goals represented in the ethnic
community newspaper of building ethnic self-esteem and pride may be an inclusive
project in terms of gender.
This also has a strong parallel with coverage of female athletes who have come to
represent national pride. Coverage of women’s sports in New Zealand tends to mirror
that of other developed, Western nations. However, during the Olympics and
Commonwealth Games, women’s athletics receives greater coverage. Most dramatically,
during the Commonwealth Games of 2002 and 2006, sports coverage of women matched
or exceeded coverage of men. (Bruce et al. 2007; Chapman 2007; Wensing 2003 as cited
in Bruce 2008). Bruce (2008) argues that this was due to women winning more medals
than men at these two events, drawing attention to the medal-winners as a source of
national pride. Women from marginalized groups can inspire mainstream media interest,
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such as indigenous athletes Nova Peris-Kneebone and Cathy Freeman from Australian
during the Sydney Olympics in 2000. The Australian media embraced these women as
symbols of national identity and unity (Gardiner 2003; Wensing and Bruce 2003). In
these examples, women were not free from gender and racial/ethnic images, but made
appealing (for better or worse) through a manipulation of these images. I will consider
this topic more later in the chapter.

Word of Mouth – Reading the Newspaper And Beyond
Newspaper coverage is only as important as its readership, so I asked the majority
of my interviewees about their exposure to the Rafu Shimpo and other sources of
information about standout Japanese-American basketball players. Although the
newspaper was a dominant source of information, it was the word-of-mouth surrounding
the paper, the passing of information from the paper on to friends and relatives, that
appeared to be most effectual in creating buzz about basketball stars.
The newspaper played a role in creating an iconic status for the local college
players. One of my interviewees, Keith, was dating Lindsey Shiomi, a local college
player, and indicated that the newspaper was behind a lot of the attention that she
received from Japanese Americans:
Lindsey I think is a perfect example of that because I hear people all the
time, I mean just people who meet her like, “Oh you’re Lindsey Shiomi!
Oh yeah, I follow you in The Rafu. I see you all the time.” I mean, that’s,
yeah, it’s something that’s - they’re little mini stars because the paper tells
them, everybody reads that – not everybody, but I know a lot of … um…
Japanese Americans that read that paper, they follow people all the time.
So yeah, I mean they’re mini stars.

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Keith implies that the paper plays a large part in publicizing the standout athletes and, in
effect, creating “mini-stars.” When they are out together, Japanese Americans stop them
and recognize Shiomi from the articles that consistently follow her career.
Many younger interviewees admitted that they did not read or subscribe regularly
to the paper, but mentioned that older relatives commonly passed along articles or shared
the paper with their younger relatives. For example, Beth, 83, read the paper regularly
and remarked: “I read the newspapers. They’re doing very well … There’s quite a big
[number] playing in college now … I read the sports page, read up on all those girls
doing well.” Beth regularly follows the college-level players in The Rafu Shimpo and
therefore knows a lot about who is currently successful. Younger participants who were
more infrequent readers had to rely on older relatives to clip articles and send them out or
hear the news by word of mouth.
We get it [The Rafu Shimpo]. I don’t have the chance to read it too often
anymore, but I guess within the community, if something big is
happening, I have enough people around where someone is going to send
me an e-mail on it or mention it … if one of our pictures is in it, someone
will usually – my mom will get it first and show us, but other than that,
we don’t really look too much. (Jake, 25)

Jakes’ comments reflect something I commonly heard from younger players – if they
themselves were written about in the paper, a relative would quickly clip out the article
and send it to them or their parents. As Jake also described, when “something big is
happening,” such as the success of a local player, someone will get the word out by e-
mail or otherwise.
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As a reflection of this word-of-mouth phenomenon, most J-Leagues participants
were able to name at least one player that they knew had played or currently played in
college. For example, Grace said:
Their names are out there if they play, like at USC or big-time schools.
They’re so proud of someone that’s Japanese American that plays at that
level. Or Natalie [Nakase], she played at UCLA for a while. So everyone
kind of knows them, even though they may not know them personally.
Everyone knows who they are, how they’re doing. Especially in the
higher divisions, everybody knows the really good players, the ones that
play in college.

Newspaper coverage becomes a reflection of (and inspiration for) conversations
happening in the Japanese-American community. The coverage of the young women
who have had mainstream success in basketball clearly demonstrates a community
interest and pride in these individuals and what they mean for the community. As Grace
expressed, there is a sense of knowing the players, even if one does not really know them.
This is, of course, what often gives icons their mass appeal. People tend to feel a sense of
pride when someone to whom they feel connected does well. Whether through a sense of
ethnic/racial pride, community pride, or league/organization pride (or all three), people
had their eyes on the successful players.

Meanings Surrounding Female Icons
During my interviews, I asked several questions to try to understand how the
participants in J-League basketball viewed the success of Japanese Americans (primarily
female) in college basketball. With the same intent, I also analyzed articles about the star
players in the Rafu Shimpo. Prominent themes that emerged in interviews and article
content included Japanese-American pride (racial/ethnic, community, or
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organization/league), overcoming obstacles, role models/good girls, and discussions of
women being more successful than men.

“A Source of Pride”
“They can vicariously experience the level of competition, the thrills. I
think it’s a source of pride, really, just for the community or the group as
a whole.” (Danielle)

Many interviewees described feeling a sense of pride whenever Japanese
Americans made it to higher levels of mainstream basketball, either as players or
coaches. The source of this pride came from intersecting identifications with
race/ethnicity, community, organizations, as well as direct connections through friends
and family. The degree of connection felt towards a prominent person could vary
depending on the level of success and the perceived level of connection. For many J-
League participants, there are concentric circles of belonging
20
-- that is, how beloved
you are as a star has a lot to do with how much you are perceived as representing or
belonging to the group. At the outermost rings, there might be Asians, Japanese, Asian
Americans, and Japanese Americans not from the California communities. In the middle
circles, there might be Japanese Americans from the California communities and people
associated with J-League organizations. Innermost would be teammates, friends, and
family members. Larry explained his view of his fan affiliations:
Natalie [Nakase] with UCLA, I know her dad. So I was pleased for that.
But there’s probably some out there that I don’t know. I would sure root
for ‘em, because they were Japanese because there’s so few of ‘em out

20
Thank you to Lon Kurashige for suggesting the metaphor of concentric circles.
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there. It doesn’t mean I hate everybody else, it’s just that I would root for
them, hope they do well. Even to the point – well, you don’t see the
Japanese playing in the NBA, but they are playing major league baseball.
They’re not from here, they’re not Japanese Americans, but you kind of
root for ‘em a little bit. If it comes the Olympics and it’s USA against
Japan, I root for USA.
Larry explained that Nakase’s accomplishments are particularly pleasing because he
knew her dad. She is an icon who is closely connected to him and therefore probably
most prominent on his radar. But he also follows other Japanese Americans whom he
does not know in the same way. One step further, he sometimes likes to follow Japanese
players. However, he points out the limits of this outermost affiliation – if it’s a national
competition, his loyalties lie with the United States and he no longer roots for the
Japanese athletes. Larry’s pattern of affiliations seemed to be similar to many of my
interviewees, and in the following section I will discuss more about these different levels
of pride and connectedness between J-League participants and the athletes whom they
admired.
Racial/Ethnic Pride. When speaking directly to J-League participants, some of
the identification they felt towards successful athletes seemed to be primarily
racial/ethnic. For example, Brandon said:
I think it’s great when I see JAs in professional sports or in higher-level
sports. I feel proud that they’re in it. I know they’ve overcome a lot to
get there, just like any athlete. But I think it’s great … but you just don’t
see that many JAs in higher-level sports, so when they do make it, it’s
nice to celebrate it and acknowledge it, highlight it.

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Brandon is proud to see Japanese Americans succeed. He was not necessarily concerned
if he knew the players or if they were involved with the J-Leagues. He could identify
with the players because they shared the same ethnicity. For Debbie, the racial/ethnic
connection was also about the satisfaction of seeing Japanese-American players
challenging stereotypes: “It’s just pride. You know? People assume that Japanese
Americans can’t play basketball.”
Community Pride. Beyond racial/ethnic pride, I interpret a great deal of
enthusiasm towards top-level players to the notion that these players belong to the
community. Laura likes to cheer on fellow Japanese Americans, but also connects her
interest to the “community,” often knowing of top players through community
connections. She compared her interest in college-level players to visiting tackle shops at
Mammoth (a resort in California):
They have a big wall with all these pictures of people who caught big
fish. It’s like, “Oh yeah! It’s a Japanese guy! Oh my God! I know that
guy!” … So, I guess we all do cheer for each other, the Japanese
community, you know, we’re all hoping that everyone does well and you
know … and I think basketball is what really… and I think that also stems
from the World War II, it stems from you know, the tight community
since the war.

Laura is proud to recognize Japanese faces at the tackle shop and even more excited
when she personally knows someone in the pictures. She emphasizes the tightness of the
community and the sense of camaraderie that she speculates may have come out of the
collective incarceration of Japanese Americans during World War II. This sense of
community was expressed by many of my interviewees. Several described feeling like
the Japanese-American community is a “small world” where everyone seemed to be
connected in some way. For instance, Emily explained how she and others knew about
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college-level players: “When someone gets onto a Division I team … I feel like the JA
community is really small and everyone kind of knows who the best players are and who
ends up going off to college.” Even more specific than the Japanese-American
community, Jimmy felt that the J-League community was even more of a “small world”:
“In these basketball circles, everything is a small world. All of the many thousands of
people that play, it’s still very small. You run into people; you have some kind of
connection with most of these people somehow.” In addition to pride, interviewees
expressed interest, support, and even idolization of the college-level players precisely
because they felt as if they knew them or shared a similar experience to them due to
community connections.
The Rafu Shimpo made a point of connecting players to community. Features of
both men and women athletes used markers that placed the athletes in connections with
their community, mentioning geographic locations, schools, Japanese-American
organizations, and other Japanese Americans (especially parents and other family
members). For example, interview quotes began with qualifiers such as, “The daughter
of William and Stacey Shiomi of Cerritos said …” (Jan. 30). Childhood stories included
multiple markers of community connections: “They used to make the tedious drive up
from Oceanside every weekend for a variety of reasons: mother Dorene has family in the
Los Angeles area, Britnee was involved in Girl Scouts and of course, there were the
games.” (Jan. 13).
Organizational Pride. Other interviewees felt pride in the college-level players
primarily because they emerged from the J-Leagues or share a particular league or
organizational affiliation.
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They’re doing very well, I think because they grew up playing in the
Japanese-American leagues. They’re doing quite well, and I’m very
proud of them. It really makes you say, “Oh, wow, all this playing in the
league has really helped them.” (Beth)

Beth has been on the board of one of the leagues for many years and therefore has a lot of
pride in the women whose skills first developed within these leagues. For her, it extends
beyond racial/ethnic and community connections to a sense of ownership over the
leagues, and by extension, the players’ successes. Beth has played a part in creating and
maintaining the J-Leagues that she believes helped to produce the talented players.
Organizations help to publicize successful players who are current or former
members. For Mas, 46, who is involved with the Tigers organization, this connection is
his primary source of pride: “Occasionally in our newsletter, they’ll mention a player
who’s doing well at a certain college. That just – I think that’s like any organization, to
be proud of having a member do well.” LeeAnne Sera (USC 1983-84) described her
feelings about the support and acknowledgement from both the “community” and a
particular Japanese-American organization, the Zebras:
As far as the community, I’m still … especially when I moved home,
where I grew up … I always just in general felt a lot of support from the
people here. I guess it’s just helped the kids to know it can be done. And
I talk to-I was asked to speak to teams and to tell my experience, talk to
them as a guest speaker … The organization I played for up here is called
the San José Zebras. They have a tournament every year … and they talk
about the history of the Zebras. I’m the first mentioned in the history of
the Zebras. They talk about how many of the players have gone on to
play at higher levels, where I went to USC and won the national
championships … I would realize later that a lot of the younger kids
coming up after me who played for the Zebra organization … they felt
that I was someone to follow, that I was a role model. If I did it, it can be
done. So, it gives them incentive to try; it’s something to reach for.

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Sera enjoyed recognition as part of the history of the Zebras organization. The
organization utilized its successful members as symbolic resources to encourage youth
coming up in the organization.
The Rafu Shimpo also plays a role in connecting players with a particular J-
League organizations. For example, one article featuring high school players explained
that “both played in the Pasadena Bruins organization” (Feb. 3). These markers helped to
build a sense that the players featured are our players. They belonged to the places,
families and organizations that many of the readers of The Rafu Shimpo would be likely
to know or have connections to themselves.
Friendship and Kinship Pride. As I interviewed J-League participants from all
over Los Angeles and Orange Counties and spanning several organizations, it was
remarkable to me how many of them knew or had met many of the “mini-stars” who
were playing at the college level – or at the very least, they knew someone who knew the
player. These were clearly not distant icons. For example, one interviewee said that
Jamie Hagiya’s (USC 2003-07) mother had worked for him and he had also attended a
funeral where he discovered that the minister was Hagiya’s father. Sometimes this claim
of knowing the icons included being related to them. For instance, several interviewees
who I recruited from diverse sources said that Hagiya was their cousin.
Many of the players who played on all-star teams or in the top divisions at
tournaments follow their contemporaries as several of them continued playing in college.
Allison, 22, plays Division III basketball, but also follows players her age, particularly in
her conference, “just because I know so much about them. I mean, if I read a clipping
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about someone, it’s like, good for her! Or teammates playing in different places, it’s like,
good for them! A really powerful thing.”
Men who were over forty tended to be very knowledgeable of Japanese-American
women playing basketball in college and unselfconscious about expressing their
enthusiasm and support of these women. Not only do these (mostly Sansei) men appear
to be the contemporary keepers of the J-League culture as organizers and promoters of J-
League basketball, but they also often know the parents and former J-League coaches of
the successful women. For example, Andrew is a Chinese-American man who is very
active in the leagues. He could, like many men in his cohort, rattle off the names of the
prominent J-League players:
So there’s a few people … Natalie [Nakase] and Jamie [Hagiya]. For
women, they look up to them. You may not notice it until – when Jamie
played at SC, they have a home game, the majority [in] attendance were
Japanese Americans. I don’t know if you noticed that … She brought in a
lot of people. Natalie brought in a lot of people, at least the Japanese
Americans that were interested in basketball came out to watch Jamie or
Natalie play. I noticed that. And even at Chapman College, we have
Lauren [Kamiyama] that plays out there. Every time I watch her game,
everybody goes out to watch her play. So, you have a lot of the spectators
who are Japanese American at Chapman.

Even though Andrew indicates that it is mainly women who look up to Nakase, Hagiya
and Kamiyama, he shows his own interest by indicating that he has attended several
games and currently attends Chapman College games.
The older men’s knowledge and support of the women athletes is demonstrative
of the leadership and community loyalty many men in their 40s and 50s practice.
Andrew is a good example of someone who knows of some players through very indirect
sources, such as by reading the newspaper. He also follows players such as Lauren
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Kamiyama as an extension of friendships he has with some fellow team members. At
least of portion of Kamiyama’s support is due to her parents being very prominent people
in the basketball community.
Public appearances and newspaper articles help to feed the Japanese-American
community appetite for appealing images of Japanese American success and help to co-
create the iconic status of many of the Japanese-American women who play college and
professional basketball. These are stars that people can reach out and touch, as many in
the community feel that they know them through family, playing, or other community
connections. Little girls want to hug them and get their autograph. The more that the
women give interviews and volunteer their time at events, the more celebrity they gain
and the more esteem they gain for giving back to the community.
Given the clear sense of pride and ownership many in the community have for the
players who have been successful in the mainstream, what can we make of the fact that
most of these players are female? In the following section, I will discuss some of the
gendered meanings behind the players’ iconic status and also share some of the ways that
J-League participants make sense of the greater successes and attention given to female
athletes.

“Little Dynamos” – Overcoming Obstacles
People assume that Japanese Americans can’t play basketball and
especially when you see these girls, they are so little. Some of them are
barely five feet one, five feet two and yet they are little dynamos.
(Debbie).

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Part of the pride and esteem felt for the female basketball icons appears to be a
sense that they represent accomplishments in the face of adversity. Although being
female is actually thought to be an advantage in terms of one’s chances of competing in
the mainstream (see chapter four – this is the main reason given for why Japanese-
American women are excelling and not men), it is also seen as the ultimate marker of
one’s underdog status. To many, Japanese-American women represent the smallest
members of the community. In a game where height is an advantage, their success is
interpreted as a great accomplishment.
Many of the stories about the basketball players in the Rafu Shimpo during 2007
seemed to set up a David versus Goliath narrative of overcoming obstacles, where against
all odds, the small heroine proves herself in the face of adversity (sometimes literally
against the “giants” present in the world of mainstream basketball). This theme was
almost exclusively found in features about female players. Most commonly, articles
would mention the player’s height or comment on her smallness, and then assert that this
height-deficit did not slow her down or limit her in any way. For example, a feature
under the photo of a high school player began: “At barely five feet, Troy High’s Sara Yee
was the biggest player on the court” (Jan 1). Other times, smallness became a major
theme, alongside other obstacles. In an article on the life of Patsy Mink, the Japanese-
American Congresswoman who co-sponsored Title IX, ESPN.com seems to be right in
line with this premise (The Rafu Shimpo reprinted the article): “She’s extremely bright
and ambitious. She’s small of physical stature. She plays some high school basketball
… she’s tiny, but strong … she meets segregation, belittlement, contempt … she refuses
to silently accept it.” (Jan. 20). In this article, small stature is portrayed as a limitation on
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and off the court, framed as an obstacle for Mink alongside “segregation, belittlement,
and contempt.” Mink is portrayed as an unlikely heroine (small, tiny), but with special
abilities (bright, ambitious, strong). She faces difficult situations (segregation,
belittlement, contempt – maybe even basketball), but shows resolve and courage,
eventually winning the day.
Height appears to be a more salient symbol for female players. During the 2007
period studied, I could only find one basketball article of any type that mentioned a man’s
height, and none that called a player “small,” but features of women regularly reported
the player’s size. In the case of the women athletes, it seems that being small is almost
seen as a badge of honor, whereas the male basketball players are more protected from
being discussed in this way. In looking at Yep’s (2009) work on Chinese Americans, she
discusses how one prominent Chinese-American basketball player of the 1940s, William
Woo Wong, was depicted in the mainstream press as small and in need of protection (92-
93). One promotional advertisement emphasized his height in photographs, showing “the
proper positioning of dominant masculinity as white and subordinated masculinity as
Chinese” (93). Since mainstream images tend to marginalize Asian men by depicting
them as small, the commonplace omission of height in articles about male players may be
a response to this. Interestingly, the Chinese-American press examined by Yep did not
necessarily shy away from discussing Wong’s height: one headline was: “All of 5-5,
USF’s Wong Stood Tall” (154). However, Yep interpreted the coverage as promoting
Wong’s abilities for the purpose of “community uplift” (93). This headline’s content is
very similar to the way that women basketball players’ size is discussed in the Rafu
Shimpo. Size does not seem to be emphasized as a point of weakness, but instead to
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show the extent to which athletes have overcome obstacles. However, these depictions
happen more often with women, most likely as a way to protect men athletes from the
type of stereotypical images found in the mainstream media.
In emphasizing the smallness of women athletes, the coverage in the Rafu Shimpo
in one way mirrors mainstream coverage of women athletes. Feminist sport scholars
argue that one method sports media uses to deal with their ambivalence towards strong
female athletes is that they match each depiction of strength with a depiction of
vulnerability (Kane and Greendorfer 1994). Therefore, one reading of these narratives
could be that the Rafu Shimpo balances its presentation of its women athletes. They are
presented as strong and resilient, but the articles also remind us that the players are small
and unlikely heroines. While a goal of balancing strength and vulnerability may be part
of the reason that young Japanese-American women featured as basketball players
received this attention to their stature, further comparisons with other ethnic/racial media
indicates there may be more to the picture.
Overcoming obstacles was a theme that came up in Latino magazine coverage of
golfer Nancy Lopez (Jamieson 2000). Articles in Nuestro and Hispanic emphasized the
struggles that Lopez’s family had gone through, for example telling stories of her father
working in the fields under the hot sun in Texas. Overcoming obstacles may be a
common narrative in media produced by and for ethnically or racially marginalized
groups.
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For the Japanese Americans, many of the narratives of overcoming obstacles, like
those of academic success, could be interpreted as reifying the model minority myth.
21

One featured college player, Lauren Kamiyama, faced three ACL reconstruction
surgeries in two years and then the death of her mother. School, however, could not
suffer. “That admission made it all the more surprising to see Lauren on campus on Oct.
27, 2004, the day after her mother had passed away” (Feb. 27). We learn that she made it
to campus for an exam. Of course, the fact that Kamiyama is 5’1” is not left unnoticed.
Another college player was lauded for her ability to take on a challenge and persevere:
“As USC’s lone healthy scholarship point guard, pressure has been heaped on Hagiya’s
shoulders, and she has willingly accepted that role, and performed” (Feb. 23). Again, the
narrative suggests that our players are capable of handling pressures of life, school, and
basketball … all while being small. This David and Goliath narrative may call to mind
the myth of the “model minority” who overcomes obstacles through hard work and
determination. However, it is important to remember that the Rafu Shimpo is primarily
directed at a Japanese-American audience. Therefore the comments need to be put in
context.
Japanese Americans have long had to fight the battle of being perceived as
foreigners and the consequences of this perception have not been limited to isolated

21
Chinese Americans and Japanese Americans were first to be described as model minorities beginning in
the 1960s. They were portrayed as hard working and high achieving, as able to overcome obstacles and
achieve success in America. (Osajima, 1988). However, this assessment masked some less favorable
agendas and consequences. By seeing Asian Americans as homogenized, it silenced the range of voices
and experiences within the group, and hid issues of discrimination and poverty (Lee, 1996; Takaki, 1989).
The myth also helps to perpetuate controlling images and restrictive stereotypes about Asian Americans
(Espiritu, 2000). In addition, the model minority myth is a clear critique of other minority groups. The
“model” in model minority inherently makes a direct comparison and critique of “not so model” minorities,
and early articles about the model minority clearly made the comparison between African Americans and
Asian Americans (Kim, 1999; Saito, 2009).
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instances of discrimination. Specifically, the World War II concentration camps
represented a full-scale denial of the rights of citizenship. Then, post-1965, an influx of
Asian American immigrants meant that the Japanese were “reracialized as foreigners”
(Lim 2006, 189). Therefore, Japanese Americans are understandably most interested in
overcoming controlling images of themselves as foreigners. At times, they may,
intentionally or not, embrace stereotypes within the rubric of the model minority myth in
the process of repudiating images that more overtly depict them as foreign and
unassimilable. It must also be understood that these narratives appear on the sports page.
In many ways, they also subvert aspects of the model minority myth by presenting
players as strong athletes and well-rounded people. Furthermore, there is no evidence in
the newspaper coverage that Japanese Americans are making intentional or direct
comparisons to African Americans or other groups. Not that racism or racial
comparisons are absent within the community, but they are rare and offset by the more
common stories of partnership and teamwork between different racial/ethnic groups.
This may be best illustrated by some of the longtime J-League referees, many of whom
are African American. NAU board members reported that many of these referees had
stayed with the program for decades and that some had become friends with the players.

Role Models/Good Girls
The Rafu Shimpo, along with the tournament committees and other community
leaders, put the college- and professional-level players out on pubic display in large part
to provide visible role models for the youth of the community. This may offer another
explanation as to why the newspaper highlights their academic successes and ability to
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work through adversity. The players can be lauded for all of their accomplishments,
including their willingness to give back to the community and interact with the youth. It
is the players who meet these standards who are most adored as “ideal citizens” of the
community.
It may be that this image of “ideal citizen” is a vital ingredient to the female
icon’s appeal. Not only do the girls and women playing in high school, college, and
professional leagues represent the majority of the community’s mainstream basketball
success, but it is probable that they also embody something that feels good to people
involved in creating and consuming their appearances and images. In her book,
Crowning the Nice Girl, Yano (2006) finds that Japanese-American pageant contestants
in Hawaii become powerful symbols of the community. They are to some extent
empowered as female icons, but they do not completely control their own image and how
it is received. Yano argues that women who have competed and placed in the Cherry
Blossom Festival Pageant in Hawaii were chosen not only for the beauty and grace, but
for their “niceness,” defined as “feminized, depoliticized, smiling … wholesome, sweet,
deeroticized … girl next door” (240). The “nice girl” is also loyal and generous with her
family and community. Niceness, argues Yano, goes beyond the women of the pageant.
“Niceness is part of the self-stereotyping of Japanese Americans in Hawaii” (241).
Attributes assigned to women, then, are in part symbolic of attributes of the entire
community.
A few of my interviewees spoke about the women college-level players in ways
that acknowledged not only their athletic abilities, but also other attributes as students,
family-members, and community-members. For example, when asking Bob about J-
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League athletes who went on to play in college, he spoke about two female players whom
he and his family were keeping an eye on:
Both of them were in clinics through this organization that we play with
and I’ve seen them both play, and you can just see the firey edge and
where they are. And they’re good students, too. They’re really good
students, and just good kids – always come home, take care of mom, and
see what the mom’s doing. You know, really family-orientated. So, I
know they’re well grounded, which probably helps in their studies and in
their sports life quite a bit.

As he hints, many of the players who have local fame run basketball camps and clinics
targeted at Japanese-American youth. So, right away they earn esteem by giving back to
the community. Moreover, Bob emphasizes the players’ status as “good kids” who are
family-oriented and do well in school. Bob could feel good about exposing his daughters
to these women and encouraging them to learn from their example. Wallace Chan has
been the chair of the Nikkei Games for several years and spoke about the opening
ceremonies where he invites prominent Japanese Americans (athletes and coaches, but
also other professionals) to give short talks to the kids and families in attendance:
I’ve gotten a lot of e-mails from parents giving me feedback about our
guest speakers and how they really enjoyed them because some of the
things they talk about … because audience for those opening ceremonies
are the kids and they tend to be, oh, eleven years old and younger …
Those parents, you know, really enjoy the speakers, because they’re
tremendous role models. Yeah, we have coaches come … successful
players … that come and speak, but they’re more role models talking
about the importance of giving it their all, you know, working hard,
developing strong work ethic, and talking about the importance of school.

Although not speaking directly to just female players, Chan echoes some of the values
and traits that are important to the community when considering whom to invite to speak
at events such as Nikkei Games.
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Leaders and parents spoke most often about the off-court attributes of the female
athletes, but some younger interviewees did point to their peers as both top-level athletes
and quality people. For instance, Grace, 30, talked about a SCWAU teammate who had
played college basketball: “She’s great, because one … she’s one of the top players in our
league. She’s just a great person. She teaches PE right around here now. She coaches at
[names school]; she’s been coaching there for years. She’s really involved in the whole
community.”
The newspaper also played a part in depicting the athletes as ideal citizens.
Articles highlighted the athletic accomplishments of the player, but they also frequently
emphasized their academic achievements, as well. Features always included some
mention of the academic performance of the athlete, even if only to say the athlete did not
want to reveal his or her academic record. Some examples:
She is holding a 3.6 grade point average as a sociology major at LA
Verne, a school noted – some have said notorious – for it [sic] rigorous
standards. (Jan. 30).

The 18-year-old guard has plenty of reasons to hold his head high as his
high school career draws to a close. A four-year Varsity letterman … all
the while maintaining a 4.0 grade point average. (Feb. 16).

In addition to basketball, he was involved in JV Track and Field and JV
and Varsity Cross Country where he was the Captain of the JV team. He
also managed to serve in a leadership position for his school’s Key Club,
Art Club, Campus Ministry and the Yearbook Committee and was the
Senior Class Vice President. (Mar. 10).

Clearly, many of these athletes are maintaining excellent academic standards and are
involved in other resume-building activities. Yet, why are these academic accolades so
consistently reported in the basketball features? Although the intention may simply be to
shed praise and share pride in our players, there is an unavoidable engagement with the
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model minority myth in portraying many of these athletes as extraordinarily dedicated to
school, sport and community. As discussed, there are several reasons why this may
contextually make sense within the context of a community newspaper.

Greater Success than the Men
Another theme that arose when talking to people involved in the leagues about
female success is that it was overwhelmingly believed that girls and women had a better
chance of making it to higher levels of basketball. Maggie gave her impression:
Even though guys and girls play basketball, for Japanese, a lot of guys,
they don’t play high school. Well, number one, they’re not good enough
to play and it’s only like the elite players that actually make the team. I
mean varsity. They’ll play like freshman, JV ball maybe, but very few of
them actually make varsity. It is kind of different, do you see that? You
know, that’s everywhere though. Or some of them don’t even play, won’t
even try out for high school, because they know they probably won’t
make the team. It’s just girls, Japanese-American girls, you know,
everyone plays varsity. It’s rare that you find someone that didn’t play
varsity.

Some attributed the disparity to the style of the game:
I think boys, they’re always trying to play above the rim. Less
fundamentals. They’re more athletic. The girls, they’re usually stronger
fundamentally. I think they’re better shooters, in general. They just try to
play the game with more smarts than boys. I think boys try to play with
too much athleticism nowadays. (Mas)

Most attributed the male star deficit to a height issue – although women are, on average,
smaller than men, the height difference between Japanese Americans and other ethnicities
seemed to matter less in women’s basketball, according to many interviewees.
The feeling was that if men made it to the college level, they probably would not
attend a school with a top team or would be relegated to the bench at any level.
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I can’t say I know a lot but I know a few Asian basketball players that
made college also and they might not have gotten the same kind of
publicity as the girls. I think the girls get more because they’re so
dominant; they perform at such a high level compared to the competition.
So, I think they get a lot of notoriety, but I think it’s easier for a guy to
kind of slip in and like, that 9
th
position on the team. Like, ah, you’re
pretty good, but we probably won’t see you all the time, but technically
they are good enough to make the team. (Keith)

Although nearly every interviewee assured me that there was no jealousy towards the
near monopoly of media and community attention for female icons, some men did wish
for more on the scene.
Of note, many J-League participants did speak highly of and follow the progress
of several prominent Japanese-American men who coached high school or college teams
in Southern California. Although they did not have the same level of status as the women
players in terms of youth following and media attention, their names came up in several
interviews and some speak at events such as Nikkei Games. In addition, there may be
some male players emerging in the local college and professional scene that will surely
attract attention. In 2010, the Rafu Shimpo has been covering three brothers who played
Varsity together at Marina High School; the oldest graduated last year and plans to play
in college. Their father, Jesse James, is a prominent person in the J-League community,
highly involved with the Orange County Optimists and Nikkei Games. His sons will
surely continue to be followed by the newspaper and the community. Also, Jeremy Lin
(Harvard 2006-10), a Chinese-American (American-born Taiwanese) from Palo Alto is
rumored to have been signed by the Golden State Warriors for the 2010-11 season.
Although I could not determine if he played in the J-Leagues, as an Asian American in
the NBA, he will surely attract the attention of many in the J-League community. Lin did
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not receive a college scholarship, even though he was a top player out of high school. He
attributes some of this inattention to racism shedding some more light into potential
barriers for Asian Americans at the higher levels of basketball. “I do think (my ethnicity)
did affect the way coaches recruited me. I think if I were a different race, I would've been
treated differently” (as quoted in Chu, 2008).

Conclusion
How does a female sports figure become a valued icon? Again, although the
contexts produced by the J-Leagues are not generalizable, nor easily replicated, the
patterns that have emerged in terms of the cultural symbols surrounding basketball appear
to differ substantially from the mainstream. Thus, this discussion offers several
important issues for further consideration.
First, as with the inclusive structures for opportunity, the production and
consumption of successful women basketball players seems to fulfill the goals of the
community. For many Japanese Americans, community building and community
(ethnic/racial) pride are viewed as paramount. If these goals can be fulfilled by looking
to women as sports heroines, then these women’s images will be the ones that community
members create and consume. My research suggests that an institution of importance to a
community has the potential to offer a gender-inclusive environment and women as role
models and icons inasmuch as these elements are viewed as beneficial for community
building.
This may be a parallel situation to female icons in the Olympics. At times, female
athletes representing their country have received more media attention than is customary
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for women’s athletics. In these cases, the goals of the nation, i.e. nationalism, provide the
incentive to follow and cheer for female athletes. However, images and narratives
surrounding the female athletic icon are often manipulated to support existing rhetoric,
making them less subversive and reifying race, class and gender stereotypes.
For women who represent a racial or ethnic community, most come to represent
this “community” in some way and media coverage specific to this community may
embrace her. In the few examples I found of studies that analyzed gendered sports media
coverage by niche, racial- or ethnic-based media (Jamieson 2000; Paraschak 1990;
Williams 1987; Yep 2009), they all found similar trends of relatively respectful and
ample coverage of female athletes. This trend spanned Native American, Latino, African
American, and Asian American news sources. This does not mean that these niche
presses did not also manipulate the images and narratives surrounding female athletes for
the purpose of asserting a collective identity. What is different about the niche
representations is that they not only subverted many ethnic/racial stereotypes, but also
gender stereotypes. These niche media outlets portrayed a positive, respectful image that
treated women very similarly to men, and avoided trivializing or marginalizing women
athletes' accomplishments. We may be able to interpret this as a degree of solidarity
between men and women within these groups producing a context where images of
successful women bring pride to co-ethnics to a similar degree as those of successful
men.
Second, the female icons from the J-Leagues are often viewed as having close
connections to the community. These women are not untouchable stars, but seen as
friends-of-friends, daughters-of-friends, extended family, etcetera. In this way, J-League
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participants feel as if these successful athletes belong to the community. Speaking about
the successful women can be a way to establish community connections, as many of my
interviewees tried to establish a direct or indirect connection to one or more of the
successful players. Enjoying their successes becomes a community and family activity.
Family members enjoy clipping out articles in the Rafu Shimpo and other newspapers and
mailing them to the featured players. Other community members enjoy talking about the
players and going to their games in groups. This closeness of icons may not be a
necessary component in producing media attention directed towards female athletes,
since similar trends have been found in other niche, ethnic- or racial-based media, but it
may have helped create a degree of local excitement that may or may not have been a
part of larger ethnic or racial community engagement with more distant icons.
Finally, the female icons seem to embody something that feels good to the
community members and that may symbolize idealized aspects of participation in the J-
Leagues. The coverage of female basketball players in the Rafu Shimpo is often
respectful and plentiful, but that does not mean that gender is absent from the images and
narratives. Article content shows that the successful players are honored not only for
their athletic accomplishments, but also for their academic and civic achievements. In
the Hawaiian Japanese-American community, beauty pageant contestants portrayed the
image of the “nice girl” that Yano argues is also an idealized image that the entire
community has of itself. Similarly, the Japanese Americans depicted in the Rafu Shimpo
and spoken about by interviewees were often praised for their numerous
accomplishments and commitment to service in the community. The college and
professional level players were not only beloved because of their accomplishments, but
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because they remained active participants in the community and “gave back” through
their appearances and other volunteer work.
Therefore, the female basketball players who become icons can be seen as ideal
role models in part because they are women. This may be in line with how the WNBA is
marketed as a family-friendly activity whereas the NBA is increasingly seen as home to
many players who are deviant in one way or another. Although Japanese Americans are
not racialized in the same way as African Americans, there is an urban, hip hop
contingent to the community. One player who plays in Japan, Darin Maki, receives some
community attention, but not nearly that of the female icons. It may be due in part to his
hip hop image. This aspect of icons being appealing in part because they are women may
also play some role in the acceptance of women as coaches of men. Participants
described female coaches of boys’ teams as being interchangeable with a male coach, but
they described women who coached men’s teams as competent coaches precisely because
they were women, perhaps to distract from the issue of men taking orders from women.
Participants claimed that men are less able to organize themselves in an efficient way
therefore require a woman coach to make sure they pay their dues on time, show up at the
games, and play fairly (appropriate substitutions, etc.). Ideas about what a “woman is
like” are not fully disrupted, but the gender order in sport is destabilized by the status
afforded to women in both roles.

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CHAPTER FOUR: “You Play Basketball?”: Negotiating the Racialized and
Gendered Body

I think it’s weird, it does come up. Because I’m short compared to – but
for like Asians we’re not short, we’re like average height, but compared to
other ethnicities we’re considered short. So it’s like, “You play
basketball?” Guys, maybe who aren’t Japanese, they might say, “Oh you
play basketball?” To me it’s like, “Yeah, of course.” It’s like kind of
weird to hear that side. (Maggie)

As discussed in chapter two, basketball has become a key way that Japanese
Americans in Southern California practice community. Part of its power in this role is its
structure of inclusiveness: J-League basketball provides playing opportunities for nearly
all ages and both sexes. To accommodate such a wide spectrum of participants, the
structure includes varying levels and divisions within different types of organizations
permitting a wide range of engagements with basketball. As explored in chapter three,
the most idealized image of a young Japanese American – male or female – may be a
stellar (and diligent) basketball player, a dedicated student, and a giving community
member. In short, community members of all ages and both sexes find a structure of play
in the J-Leagues that allows them to connect to their community and fulfill aspects of
ideal Japanese-American citizenship.
The inclusive structure of the J-Leagues paired with the symbolic resources of
Japanese American women who have been successful in the mainstream provide a space
within the J-Leagues where interactions operate within a unique system of accountability.
Specifically, the structure of the J-Leagues (widespread, inclusive, and connected to
community institutions) and its supporting representations are (re)created through
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interactions that reaffirm the naturalness and desirability of all Japanese Americans
playing basketball.
Japanese Americans who participate in mainstream basketball navigate an entirely
different terrain from what they have experienced in the J-Leagues. According to
interviewees, encounters with non-Japanese Americans often involve a disjuncture
between the basketball-related identity and practices of the Japanese American individual
(or group) and the expectations of those around him or her. In contrast to the sense of
normalcy many feel about playing within the Japanese American community, on
countless occasions in mainstream contexts, Japanese American men and women
described feeling that their involvement in basketball commonly elicited reactions of
surprise, disbelief or even antagonism.
In line with West and Fenstermaker’s (1995) theory of “doing difference,”
Japanese Americans experiences of talking about and participating in basketball vary
dramatically depending on the acceptable range of gender, race, and class enactments to
which they are held accountable in a given context. Within the context of the
community, any Japanese Americans can “do” gender, race, and class in contextually
appropriate ways in part by participating in basketball. In contexts outside of the
community, the range of acceptable practices tends to uphold racist and sexist ideologies
and structures – players experienced everything from gentle teasing to hostility about
their participation in basketball. Each interaction reflected a confluence of systems of
accountability, where race, gender, class, or even height emerged as salient depending on
the context and available rhetoric.
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The J-Leagues and mainstream sports are different contexts, each with its own
systems of accountability for doing gender, ethnicity/race, and class. Within the J-
Leagues, playing basketball (for both men and women) is fully consistent with the system
of accountability, so ethnicity and gender seem less problematic. Within mainstream
sport, Asian-American women and men playing basketball seem incompatible with the
system of accountability, thus making ethnicity/race and gender more salient and in
greater need of some kind of conscious negotiation. Height and body size become a
salient anchor for discourse through which people make sense of and negotiate these two
different sets of accountability.

Doing Difference
West and Fenstermaker (1995) revised the theory of “doing gender” (West and
Zimmerman 1987) to more fully articulate how gender, race and class can simultaneously
affect interactions. They argue that in any given situation, individuals accomplish their
race, class and gender identities through behaviors and actions. They are held
accountable by other individuals as well as by institutions for enacting these identities
within a given range of appropriate practices. The resulting content of interactions tends
to reinforce existing structures and hierarchies based on these power relations. Because
of the importance of distinctions and hierarchies based on these social categories in our
society, “all social exchanges … are simultaneously ‘gendered,’ ‘raced,’ and ‘classed.’”
(13). Context is important in determining what may be deemed as appropriate –
therefore, race, class and gender can be considered “situated accomplishments.”
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Although the theory of “doing difference” provides a useful tool for looking at
micro-interactions that often reproduce inequalities, its critics have aptly suggested that
the framework may obscure macro-level issues of oppression based on race, class, and
gender (Collins, et al. 1995). This chapter cautiously engages with the theory of “doing
difference” for the purpose of analyzing the ways in which Japanese Americans find
many of their out-group interactions tainted by dominant ideologies about race, class and
gender in the context of sport. Specifically, I wish to explore the idea that the
embodiment of “basketball player” can be simultaneously praised and encouraged within
the ethnic community (appropriate enactments of race, gender, and class) while being
viewed as a novelty or nuisance within the mainstream (inappropriate enactments of race,
gender, and class). This analysis does not intend to negate or obscure macro-level
processes, as it is precisely because of larger race, class, and gender oppressions that
mainstream contexts are so fraught with challenges and that community contexts are in
many ways subversive to the mainstream.

Sport = Gendered, Raced and Classed
Sport is closely connected to ideologies about gendered and racialized bodies
(Cahn 1994, 2004; Hargreaves 1994) and sporting environments and images constitute
sites for both the reproduction and contestation of race and gender hegemonies
(Hartmann 2003; Messner 1988, 2002). In prior chapters, I have discussed the power of
controlling images (Collins 1991) and argued that mainstream sport is full of institutions
that magnify and disseminate these images. Because the images often exclude
marginalized groups from idealized versions of masculinity and femininity, the support
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the gender and racial order by normalizing and favoring white, middle class versions of
gender (Espiritu 2000).
For Asian Americans in particular, gendered controlling images tend to exclude
Asian Americans from most characteristics associated with masculinity. Because of the
common association between masculinity and sport, Asian Americans become
symbolically excluded from many sport contexts, particularly those most associated with
hegemonic masculinity. Espiritu (2000) argues that Asian American women tend to be
exoticized in strongly feminine archetypes, such as “Lotus Blossom” or “China Doll”
(demure and subservient) or as “Dragon Lady (hypersexual). Although Asian American
men have been depicted as hypermasculine in images of the “Yellow Peril” or “the threat
that Asians will one day unite and conquer the world” (89), this threat is rarely one of
physical size or strength and the more dominant image in contemporary times in that of
the “model minority,” a more asexual, apolitical, passive image of Asian masculinity,
although oftentimes still perceived as perilous because of fears that Asian Americans may
be smarter and more industrious than whites. Any of these stereotypical images may be
juxtaposed against images of an athlete in a physical sport such as basketball, presenting
a paradoxical picture. Stereotypes of Asian Americans as feminine, timid, and small do
not match the competitive, masculine ideals of Western athleticism. Furthermore, the
dominant conception of Asian Americans as foreigners or as possessing a foreign culture
also place them at odds with the image of an athlete in an “All-American” sport.
Research has shown that Asian American athletes can still be perceived as “foreign” or as
possessing a foreign culture, even when the athlete is a multigenerational American
(Creef 2004; Tuan 1999; Vertinsky 1998). Because of these ongoing conceptions of
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Asian Americans, there is a false perception that they are not very involved in sport
(Hanson 2005).
Although this chapter is about interactions, dominant images are important to
understanding encounters between Asian Americans and non-Asian Americans. The
dominant culture “imposes elite definitions of subordinates, denying them the power of
self-identification” (Pyke and Johnson 2003, 36). These definitions organize social
relations and are also internalized, influencing meaning-making and appearing as
common sense within interactions (Pyke and Johnson 2003).

Racial Triangulation
While watching a men’s game in Rebecca’s league, I saw one of the
players shoot the ball towards the basket, but instead of going through the
rim or bouncing off of it, the ball became wedged between the rim and the
backboard. In the subsequent moments, all ten of the Asian-American
players of varying heights eyed the basket, got sheepish looks on their
faces, and turned with somewhat shameful faces to the two African
American referees, their eyes asking, “Could you please?” (Fieldnotes,
January 27, 2008).

In Claire Jean Kim’s (1999) theory of racial triangulation, she argues that the
racialization of a group does not occur in a vacuum, but is always formed in relation to
the racialization of other groups. Asian Americans, in particular, have been racially
triangulated in relation to African Americans and European Americans (whites). This
triangulation supports white hegemony, she argues, by positioning Asian Americans on
two axes: superior/inferior and insider/foreigner. In relation to African Americans, Asian
Americans are regarded as having superior values (e.g. ethic of hard-work) and behaviors
(e.g. apolitical). In relation to whites, Asian Americans are regarded as foreign – their
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cultural practices are seen as not only different and strange, but as unchanging no matter
how long the group has been in the United States.
Racial triangulation (Kim 1999) plays a significant role in the types of race and
gender accountability found in sport contexts. Because professional men’s basketball
occupies a space at the center of sports (Messner 2002) and because it is associated with
African American men (Banet-Weiser 1999), African Americans become a salient focus
of racial comparison. This is an outgrowth of the Black/white binary that has permeated
race relations, particularly in the sport of basketball. Ethnically or racially marginalized
groups engaging with the sport of basketball may find it difficult to avoid being racialized
in relation to the symbolism associated with African American and white relationships to
the sport.
The cultural triangulation applies in the sport context: Asian Americans are
viewed as culturally superior to African Americans and therefore not likely to throw
away their life chances by over-investing in basketball. For example, African American
commitment to basketball has been viewed as pathological (Hoberman 1997) while Asian
American commitment to education can be viewed as emerging from superior cultural
traits. At the same time, whites (perhaps, white women in particular) are viewed as
having a positive relationship with basketball as played recreationally and in schools as
part of a well-rounded education. Asian Americans, however, are also symbolically
excluded from this white version of basketball, as well, because their “culture”
(homogenous, unchanging) is supposedly too foreign to be interested in American sports.
Because the context of sport gives salience to bodies, a triangulation based on
physical stereotypes also plays a role in the racialization of Asian Americans. In relation
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to African Americans, Asian Americans are viewed as less athletically talented, less
physically gifted. In relation to whites, Asian Americans are viewed as smaller and
shorter. The combination of these perceived “deficits” makes them an unlikely
basketball player, where athleticism and height are seen as unequivocal assets. King
(2006) argues that the perceived incongruity of pairing of Asians with sports is
commonly a source of jokes and joking. These jokes have “proven so central to
(dis)figuring Asians and Asian Americans in sport, simultaneously effacing and defacing
them” (342).

Height – The Great Mediator
It is perhaps because of this second form of racial triangulation – the physical
comparison between Asian Americans, whites, and African Americans – that height is
such a salient factor in J-League participants’ experiences with basketball. Body size has
also been a dominant way that men have been defined as superior to women in sport
(Kane 1995). For Japanese Americans in mainstream contexts, physical stature emerged
as a significant mediating factor in interactions revolving around basketball. Because
height is so salient to the basketball context, it became the language and symbol for
negotiating gender and racial accountability. Moreover, discourse surrounding height
appeared to act as a way of controlling female and Asian bodies, excluding them from
certain sport spaces. In this way, height played a dual role: 1) smaller stature amplified
the significance of the female or Asian body; and 2) discourses surrounding height and
body size provided a rhetorical strategy for explaining or justifying the trivialization or
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exclusion of female and Asian bodies. Height then became a tool in protecting
hegemonic masculinity which in turn protects patriarchy and white supremacy.
There is one important issue to work through: if African American males are
perceived as the bodies that are most suited to basketball, how does the exclusion of
Asian American and female bodies help to protect white male hegemony? Demetriou
(2001) argues that hegemonic masculinity(ies) can borrow from marginalized
masculinities. In this case, it can be argued that hegemonic masculinity borrows from the
athletic masculinity of basketball (now associated primarily with African American men)
and the American-ness of basketball. African Americans and whites share the space of
basketball as a masculine, American space, even if very few white American men
participate in elite level basketball. However, ownership of professional teams and head
coaching positions are still exclusively male and overwhelmingly white, helping to
confirm white, male superiority despite challenges by marginalized groups (Ferber 2007).

Basketball Identity and Doing Race, Class, and Gender within the Community
J-League basketball sustains and supports interactions and solidarity within the
Japanese American community. Thus, accountability to the community almost
necessitates some interaction with basketball. Most saliently, members of the community
are able to “do” ethnicity and race appropriately in Japanese American contexts by
playing basketball, as this is a simple way to show racial/ethnic affiliation. Perhaps
because this enactment is primary, the range of permissible behaviors that are “gendered”
and “classed” is quite large and gender and class boundaries are not firm. Chapter two
discussed the leniency within the community in terms of gender borderwork that fosters a
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broad engagement with basketball, including support for both sexes and a wide range of
gender practices. Although there is some representational engagement with the model
minority myth (see chapter three), most organizations and leagues try to make basketball
affordable and accessible to as many participants as possible. At least rhetorically, the J-
Leagues are open to players from all socioeconomic backgrounds. Also, J-League
basketball does not appear to have as much symbolic connection to urban, working-class
environments and African American masculinity. Although certain players borrow their
individual style or esteem from these images, it is not the dominant “feel” of the leagues
which tend to have more of an atmosphere of middle-class family and community,
supported by dominant rhetoric that is reminiscent of middle-class values.
Within the J-Leagues, Asian American men and women reported feeling a sense
of “naturalness” about their interest in basketball (see chapter two). In particular, girls
and women rarely faced any surprise or disbelief about their basketball abilities. Quite
the contrary, Laura described an atmosphere within the J-Leagues that takes women’s
athleticism for granted: “It’s like, you’re Japanese and a girl everyone assumes you’re
decent at basketball.” Renee echoed the normalcy of Japanese American girls choosing
basketball: “I always thought it was normal. All these Japanese girls playing basketball,
it’s normal. I never thought of playing soccer or volleyball. I was just like, ‘We all do
this.’”
This aspect of the J-League gender regime where just about everyone is assumed
to be involved in basketball is reinforced through interaction rituals where Japanese
Americans engage each other in conversations about basketball and basketball networks.
For example, Rebecca described:
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I think for the most part, everybody, a lot of the Japanese especially, that
play in these leagues. It’s like, “Oh, do you know so and so? He plays on
this team. Do you know so and so, she plays on that team?” That’s how
you associate people with … their organization or team that they grew up
playing with, and sometimes we sit around and talk and say, “Ah,
remember way back when da, da, da.” Because a lot of my friends that I
grew up playing against, from different areas like Venice or West LA or
the Valley, when I went to UCLA, they were going there and it was kinda
like, oh let’s get an IM team together.

These sort of interactions where Japanese Americans could break the ice with each other
by trying to “connect the dots” via J-League connections has the latent affect of
confirming the athleticism of all Japanese Americans. Additionally, the esteem of female
players was reproduced through discussions of elite Japanese-American players. For
example, when I asked Sarah about how respected women basketball players were within
the Japanese-American community, she answered: “I think if anything, it’s actually more
respected for females because more of them are playing at the collegiate level, whereas
the males don’t tend to either try out or make it at the collegiate level.” She was able to
use the symbolic resource of the female icons to validate the respect others may have for
women’s basketball abilities.
Experiences in the J-Leagues stood out as different from mainstream basketball
experiences for many interviewees. Keith discussed his identity as a basketball player: “I
think most people for me, I’m six foot and I’m Japanese. I know a lot of Japanese people
I meet, they probably just assume that I play. Anybody else not in the Japanese ethnicity
or community, they might not see.” Keith wears his basketball identity with ease within
the community, expecting that other Japanese Americans will just assume he is a player.
Outside of the community, he seems less certain of his ability to convincingly assert
himself as a basketball player. For women, the differences in community versus
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mainstream reactions to their athleticism may be even more drastic, particularly in
encounters with non-Japanese American men. Grace said, “It’s easier to play with other
guys that know about the Japanese leagues … like, they know you can play, they’ve seen
you play, versus someone that doesn’t know anything about leagues and thinks it’s just
girls playing basketball.” Since men in the J-Leagues were aware that many Japanese
American women played, Grace appears to assume a certain degree of respect from them
toward the women’s game. She implies that people that do not know about the J-Leagues
would not hold that same respect for women playing basketball.
Some felt as if their outside interactions (at school, at work, or in sports) were
completely separate from their life within the Japanese American community. For
example, Danielle spoke about being the “only Asian” on her college team:
It didn’t bother me, but it just – it seemed like I had my Caucasian world
and then I had my Japanese-American world. It was just really weird … It
was different, definitely. Both experiences I really enjoyed. It made me a
better person, really, because it helped me understand competing with or
playing alongside teammates who were not Japanese Americans, and vice
versa.

This separation of worlds may be similar to the concept of “double consciousness”
(DuBois 1997 [1903]). Du Bois argued that African Americans face a double-
consciousness, in that they must always be aware of their dual identity as Americans and
as “Negroes.” Because of the different sport experiences within the J-Leagues versus in
the mainstream, participants may have experienced a degree of double consciousness
about their identity.
Within the Japanese American community, J-League participants played
basketball without much self consciousness about their ethnicity or race. Because there is
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less opportunity for direct comparisons, single-sex sports sometimes have the effect of
decreasing the salience of gender within the same-sex environment (Messner 2002).
Ethnic-leagues can have a similar effect on their participants. Despite choosing to play in
J-Leagues, one participant told me: “As far as being Japanese American right now, I
don’t really reflect or think about being – I just think about being who I am and being
part of my family and friends. I don’t really think about my heritage that much. Unless it
comes up, ‘What nationality are you?’ I don’t really think of it.” The J-Leagues, in a
sense, provide some buffers from having to face any controlling images that may exist in
the mainstream. However, playing basketball outside of the J-Leagues involves more
contexts for racial/ethnic comparisons and exposure to controlling images that often place
Asian Americans symbolically outside the realm of physical, American sports.

Basketball Identity and Doing Race, Class, and Gender in the Mainstream
Basketball in mainstream U.S. society takes on a number of different meanings
than in the J-Leagues. Mainstream youth basketball can be about community and
friendship, similar to the J-Leagues. However, because college and professional men’s
basketball occupy a space at the center of sports (Messner 2002), the standards and
symbols of these institutions tend to resonate throughout many contexts of basketball
participation. Imagery surrounding men’s and women’s elite basketball is complicated
by gender, race and class. “Real” basketball is often associated solely with the men’s
game (Kian, Vincent, and Mondello 2008; Shakib and Dunbar 2002). Professional
men’s basketball has become more and more associated with African Americans and the
media has tended to present African American NBA players as “a group of spoiled,
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ungrateful, violent, Black men” (Banet-Weiser 1999, 405). Professional women’s
basketball, conversely, has often been represented as a more pure form of the game, and
its players as morally superior to their male counterparts. The players’ gender, Banet-
Weiser (1999) argues, is the main focal point, as the league purposefully promotes
players who “follow normative conventions of heterosexual femininity” (404). In an
intersection of race and gender, African American male athletes can represent dangerous
or undeserving figures in the game whereas African American female athletes do not
carry the same symbolic baggage. This certainly has not resulted in the public embracing
the WNBA over the NBA in terms of interest or sponsorship, but is more of a rhetorical
strategy whereby the WNBA hopes to win over as many fans and supporters as possible
by playing against the racial politics of the NBA, while (supposedly) keeping racial
politics out of the WNBA. (Banet-Weiser 1999).
Despite the fact that mainstream basketball is associated so strongly with
men/masculinity and African American/urban cultures, it is still an immensely popular
high school sport for both sexes (the most popular sport for girls). In many ways,
participation in basketball can be perceived by the mainstream as highly appropriate and
even a venue for achieving “cultural citizenship” (Lim 2006; Rosaldo 1997) in the larger
society. The Jewish American engagement with sports, and particularly basketball, may
be helpful in understanding this aspect of mainstream participation. During the first half
of the twentieth century, both community sports and successful Jewish-American athletes
became important elements of Jewish-American life. Jewish athletes who became
successful in the mainstream were celebrated by Jewish-American individuals and
communities because these athletes represented both acceptance by mainstream society
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(indicating the possibility and desirability of assimilation), and also because they
engendered a sense of ethnic pride, heightening feelings of ethnic solidarity. (Kugelmass
2007b). The sport icons and the community leagues that helped to foster them as
facilitating a “middle ground” (Levine 1992) for many Jewish Americans during this pre-
World War II period. At the time, discrimination led many to experience internal
suffering and sometimes even a denial of Jewishness. “For many, however, control of
their sport and leisure world helped counter feelings of helplessness and alienation in
ways that encouraged their claims to legitimacy and full participation while at the same
time providing a sense of ethnic solidarity and identity” (Levine 1992, 7).
Japanese Americans may find similar rewards in their own practice of basketball.
Sports can often provide at least symbolic access to the larger society, a sense of
citizenship for populations feeling excluded in some way from mainstream life
(Kugelmass 2007b; Levine 1992). In this way, playing basketball in mainstream contexts
can be an appropriate way of doing race, class, and gender – perhaps more importantly, it
is a way of doing “Americanness.”
However, in a society where sports are symbolically associated with masculinity
and “Americanness” and Asians are often associated with femininity and foreignness, can
Japanese Americans play basketball as an appropriate performance of their race, class,
and gender without facing some form of sanction or reaction from others? From
interviews with participants, it became clear that intersecting identities, particularly race
and gender, had a large effect on the how a basketball identity was received in
mainstream contexts.

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Female x Race x Height = The Triple Threat?
“I guess if I’d go to the gyms, or even at the park, I used to play at the
park. One, yeah, you’re Japanese. Two, you’re short. Three, you’re a
female.” (Grace)

“When I bring up playing basketball when I’m at work, like I just talk to
patients, if I bring up I play basketball, automatically I think they assume
that I don’t [play], maybe because I’m Japanese, because I’m a girl,
because I’m short. I don’t know what.” (Emily)

In basketball, a “triple threat” is when a player with the ball gets into a stance that
can result in three possible moves: a shot, a drive, or a pass. The goal is to be in a
position that is most challenging to the defender, who cannot determine the ball-handler’s
next move. It is a state of uncertainty. Grace and Emily both describe a “triple threat” in
presenting an identity as a basketball player in contexts outside of the J-Leagues.
Outsiders appear to perceive three aspects that they embody – race/ethnicity, gender, and
height – as incongruent with what one expects to see in a basketball player. Rather than
an intentional move to confuse the defense, these women present an unavoidable “threat,”
an embodied, multifaceted challenge to the status quo. The image people seem to be
thinking of when they picture a basketball player is that of a tall, white or African
American male. Because of racial triangulation, a small, Asian American woman
represents the antithesis of this image.
When Grace and Emily reveal an aptitude in basketball, the reaction both in
basketball and non-basketball contexts is often disbelief or surprise. Because several of
their statuses and characteristics are perceived as incongruent, the recipient of the
astonished reaction may not even be able to pinpoint what it is about them that elicited
this response. Grace seems to feel all three factors – her ethnicity, her size and her
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gender – play a role in how she is treated when she plays in pick-up games at the park or
gym. Emily has narrowed it down to the same three possibilities, but is unsure which of
these factors leads her patients to express surprise when she talks to them about playing
basketball during her interactions with them at work. The individuals expressing surprise
may not even fully understand their own feelings. Several interviewees told me that they
had confronted disbelievers, asking why they did not expect them to be a basketball
player, only to receive an ambiguous response: “you just don’t seem like the type.”
In some contexts, people were able to identify the woman as an athlete, usually
because of her attire, but felt compelled to guess a sport that seemed both height, gender,
and race appropriate. For example, Nancy, player and coach, finds that people can
envision her as an athlete, but not being involved with basketball:
Because I don’t have that look of a basketball player. So, yeah, normally
you’d see people out or people you don’t know and they’d say: “You kind
of look like an athlete, you know.” “Yeah, I am.” And so the first sport
they pick is volleyball….”Oh you play volleyball?” “No”… “Or you play
tennis? Or you run track or something?” “No, basketball.” And they’re
like, “Oh yeah? Really? You’re too short!” … They never pick out
basketball.

Although height is generally thought of as an advantage in both volleyball and tennis,
many people who Nancy encounters seem able to imagine her in these roles, but not as a
basketball player or coach. They often point to her shortness as to why they cannot
imagine basketball, but also seem to pick volleyball as their first guess, revealing the
absurdness of this explanation. It is probable that volleyball and tennis seem more
appropriate for a woman since they are often more associated with femininity, but this
does not seem to fully explain the extent of their surprise. It is most likely the triple
threat, the uncertainty of pairing basketball with not only a woman, not only a short
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woman, but a short woman of Asian descent that probably led the doubters to express
disbelief.
Young women who had played in college found that people could not fathom that
Asian women were involved at such a high level of basketball. Lauren Kamiyama plays
for Chapman College and has several Asian Americans on her team. When I asked her if
she ever surprised anyone, she responded: “All the time! When we travel [with the
college team], everything other than basketball. It’s like, ‘Are you guys a swim team?
Are you guys a volleyball – not a volleyball team, but a softball team?’ I mean we get
everything but basketball.” Other players had similar experiences to Kamiyama, telling
me stories about traveling to play in areas outside of California and facing people’s stares
or running into situations where people did not even understand what ethnicity the
players were. Jamie Hagiya related that at a tournament, a woman remarked about her to
another player on her team: “Wow, that Eskimo sure can play!”
However, even in California and on her own campus, Natalie Nakase could not
avoid people trying to make sense of her athleticism:
When I was walking around the UCLA campus, I would get stereotypes
like, “You’re on the gymnastics team?” Because I’m small and Asian.
“You on the tennis team?” A lot of the athletes, we all have the same
backpack, because we get free stuff, so you can tell the athletes from the
students. And everybody’s like, “Oh, what team are you on? Are you a
gymnast?” “No.” I was like, “I’m a basketball player,” and they were like,
“No, you’re not.” I get the whole, “No, you don’t.” Or if I even – when
I’m dressing, I’ll usually put on my clothes, and everyone’s like, “Oh, you
play soccer?” “No, guess again.” No one has ever said basketball. It’s
kind of funny, when I said it, they were shocked.

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Nakase found that her identity of “basketball player” on campus was often surprising to
people or even disputed: “no, you’re not.” Even professors were difficult to convince,
but she confessed that it may have been to her advantage:
When I was on campus, I just thought I was so normal … I was Asian,
too, so I kind of – it was funny, because athletes would get known as – a
little stereotype, where if you were in a classroom, teachers automatically
hated you, as an athlete. “I don’t want to deal with that. I don’t want to
deal with a person leaving on road trips.” But I was normal. I dressed in
normal clothes. That was the one benefit I had being Japanese American,
I could look like a student, I could like look an athlete. If the teacher was
like, “Athlete?” I was like, “Yeah, I play basketball.” But then [I didn’t
look like I] played basketball.

In “normal clothes” Nakase found that she easily blended in, avoiding the perceived
prejudices of professors toward athletes. She alludes to the existence of an opposing
stereotype, one that caused professors to assume she was purely a student. It is quite
possible that her identity as an Asian American led professors to doubt her athleticism
while presuming her status as a hard-working student. When wearing athletic gear or
verbally asserting her role as an athlete, Nakase had trouble convincing people of her
dual role as student-athlete. LeeAnne Sera had a similar problem at USC getting
professors to acknowledge her status as a varsity athlete, which she felt made it more
difficult to ask for special help when she was unable to attend class due to her sports
schedule:
I think in general they didn’t care that much. It was a big enough school
where you don’t really know a lot of the professors, especially your
freshman and sophomore year because you’re in large classes … I had a
couple of professors who found out and they were sort of surprised.
“Gosh, you don’t look like a basketball player.” [laughs] They didn’t give
me a break.

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Sera’s and Nakase’s experiences on their own campuses (in the 1980s and 2000s
respectively) show not only the race and gender assumptions of students and professors,
but also the ignorance of many on campus to their status as scholarship basketball
players. For better or worse, one could not imagine that a male scholarship player would
have to answer similar questions or face doubts about his role on campus. At the same
time, both women probably had some advantages (as Nakase describes) over students
who more clearly looked the role of student-athlete (read: African American students)
who may have faced doubts about their academic abilities.
The era, as seen in Sera’s and Nakase’s case, does not seem to dramatically alter
the experience. In another example, Sandra, 49, and Isabel, 19, are mother and daughter
who play on the same SCWAU league team together. When I asked them in a joint
interview about anyone being surprised by their basketball abilities, there was clearly no
generation gap in their experiences. Both women experienced not only surprise, but the
desire of their male peers to challenge them to a game.
Isabel: I get it so much, nothing really stands out – all their reactions are
the same. Then they want to play against me, then they challenge me but I
just never have the time to play them.

Sandra: When I was younger, when I first started working … some of the
guys were actually surprised that I did play and so forth, but yeah, because
they’re just like, “No way do you play.” I said, “Come on, we’ll just go
play.” So, they’re really surprised that I can make baskets. I know what a
lay-up is … Then I had a couple of my Caucasian friends one day, you
know, had said … “If you guys want to join us for a pick-up game, you
can.” We’re like, “Yeah, right, okay, whatever.” And then we had Asian
guys, basically coed … They were astounded by all these Asian girls,
women and the guys who played ball as well as we did. They just didn’t
think of [us] having, you know, the skill sets because you never see an
Asian that much even in the men's college ball, you never see an Asian
ballplayer or anything like that, but he was just like, “Oh my God!” …
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The next day at work they’re like, “Oh my God, your friends can play, too
– you guys just tear up the court.”

Sandra and Isabel had similar reactions from peers, although Isabel did not seem as
interested in meeting the challenges or proving her abilities as her mother did. Sandra
was able to demonstrate to her workmates that she was not alone in her basketball ability,
but knew other Asian-American men and women who were equally talented. Her
workmates were astounded by their abilities.
In the aforementioned experiences, Asian-American women who are players and
coaches experienced astonishment or disbelief when they revealed that they played or
coached basketball. One can see in some of the comments that instances like this can be
frustrating. For student-athletes, it could mean difficulty in getting extra support from
professors. For others, they rather enjoyed being able to surprise people or remaining
anonymous in the classroom. For the most part, mainstream reactions demonstrated a
certain degree of prejudice or ignorance, but were seldom overtly cruel or derogatory.
Nakase did have an experience, however, where a man who was not Japanese American
felt that she had overstepped her boundaries. While playing in a refereed pick-up game
as the only woman, the following confrontation occurred:
One incident, actually, it was pretty brutal. Some guys can just be really
jerks … We’re going up and down the court, and I’m just – I just decide to
set a screen for my friend … and this guy just completely runs me over …
The ref goes … “You can’t just push her to the ground.” He’s going off
like, “Are you f--ing kidding me? She shouldn’t even be out here! She
shouldn’t be playing! Girls shouldn’t be playing with guys!” [Later] I did
it again, and this time he just took his hands and shoved me. He didn’t
even try to guard the guy, he just moved me out of the way. So the ref
called another foul, and he just stopped the whole game. He was just like,
“I’m not playing any more. I can’t play against this girl. First of all, she
only weighs, like, ten pounds and … she just shouldn’t be here. She’s too
small.” He just said everything in the book you could possibly say. I just
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remember that incident. He started cussing and being really nasty towards
me. I didn’t do anything to the guy … Usually I get some talk and stuff,
but he was just taking it – And I was like, “I’m here to play. It’s no big
deal.”

In this instance, Nakase was completely rejected by a male player on the opposing team
to the point that he treated her roughly, both physically and verbally. In Nakase’s
recollection of the situation, this man had brought up two things that made her unsuitable
for playing basketball: being a “girl” and being “too small.” It this situation, Nakase was
not just telling someone that she played basketball, but actually trying to play on equal
turf with men, which likely contributed to the drastic reaction. She had invaded the
masculine space – in this context, “doing” gender on the court probably required being
male. However, her smallness (and perhaps her race) heightened the saliency of her
gender and gave her adversary something to focus on in making a case for her expulsion
from the game. Body size became a tool for a male player to try to protect the playing
space as male-only.
For women, gender seemed to be the most salient issue in convincing others of
their playing interest or ability, particularly when playing with or speaking to men.
However, ethnicity/race appeared to be an (often unspoken) issue. Stephanie, for
example, is half Japanese and half Mexican, but describes herself as looking mainly
Mexican. She claimed that she did not experience any surprise outside of the J-Leagues
about her basketball prowess. Body size also seemed to heighten reactions. Body size
has been a dominant symbolic resource for asserting male superiority, particularly in the
realm of sports (Kane 1995). Heather seemed to feel that being tall somewhat shielded
her from reactions of surprise from non-Japanese Americans. Instead her age, as she was
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still actively playing at 50, was what surprised people about her participation in
basketball. “Given that I am rather tall for a Japanese American, most people are
somewhat surprised that I STILL play not the fact that I do play.” Another participant,
Lisa, seems to imply that it would be non-Japanese American men, not women, who
might be surprised by her athleticism: “Among women, I rarely get a reaction of surprise.
I believe that we are in a time where women of all nationalities are respecting the
accomplishments of other women professionally and recreationally. I have played in
leagues with my colleagues who I work with at school.”
Non-Japanese American women may have been less likely to challenge Japanese
American women about their playing abilities, but a few J-League participants playing
with women in mainstream contexts experienced negative reactions. Diane is a Chinese
American who has played for many years in the J-Leagues, Chinese Leagues, and Parks
and Recreation Leagues. She commented that she does not enjoy playing in the Rec
leagues as much as the Asian leagues because, “A lot times they don’t think Asians can
play. And they get kind of rude. I got ‘chink’.” Although most interviewees did not
report overt racism, Diane’s experience demonstrates that purely racial comments are
also a part of playing experiences for Asian Americans.
In some instances, my interviewees did not venture out into mainstream play
alone, but as part of an all-Asian-American team. When women played in mainstream
competition on an all-Asian American team, they sometimes experienced negative
reactions from the opposing teams or onlookers. For example, Tammy said, “When we
were playing, like, intramurals in college. You know how these girls are, they’re like –
because we were called ‘The Orient Express,’ so they were kind of making fun of us.
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But then we beat them.” Tammy also had a story about playing in a three-on-three
tournament sponsored by Footlocker:
We ended up winning and we got to The Forum … We were all Japanese,
actually three Japanese and one Chinese. It was pretty fun, because we
got that far. We played against some pretty good people getting to that
point. You had to play all this regional stuff. So, when we played at The
Forum – this was when Connie Chung was big – some guy goes, “There’s
Connie Chung on the court,” meaning us!

Whether playing in intramural leagues in college or in a prestigious tournament, Tammy
experienced jokes at her and her teammates’ expense. When Asian Americans played
together in mainstream contexts, at times it made their ethnicity and race more salient to
others, who sometimes responded by making inappropriate jokes and comments about
them. By ending her first story with the phrase, “but then we beat them,” Tammy
demonstrates her pride at having the opportunity to subvert the stereotypes vocalized by
her onlookers and competitors.
As the “doing difference” theory explains, context is meaningful to how race,
class and gender are “done” and to what extent individuals are held accountable for
particular enactments of these intersecting identities. When not facing them directly on
the court, people tended to find Asian American women’s assertions of basketball
prowess surprising or amusing. However, when the women chose to play in mainstream
contexts, they took the chance that their very presence might be vehemently protested or
trivialized.

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“Who’s this little Asian dude?”
Male x Race x Height = Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad
Japanese-American men also ran into people who were surprised that they played
basketball, but this was not mentioned nearly as often as with the women. Perhaps
because they are male, their identity represented less of a threat to hegemonic
masculinity. If they were at least average-sized, it appeared to offer them even more of a
reprise from being stereotyped as an unlikely athlete. But they were not free from these
types of reactions and often felt that they needed to prove themselves in mainstream
playing environments. Like the women, when Japanese-American men questioned
someone about a surprised reaction, the perpetrator was generally unwilling or unable to
pinpoint why they responded in this way. John, for example, said, “So I’d ask them,
‘Why don’t you think that I play basketball?’ ‘I don’t know. You just don’t seem the
type.’”
In contexts where they were playing basketball in the mainstream, the men had
mixed experiences. Some men, for example, described getting picked last at pick-up
games at the park. For example, Tim commented, “Maybe it might have happened once
or twice. If you go to a park and they see the Asian guy, they might pick you last, and
then I go out and I’m the best one on the court. But that only happens when I’m on the
playground. I don’t play out there very often. Not really.” For Tim, playing at a local
playground meant proving himself as the “Asian guy.” In general, it appears that he
avoided situations where he would have to deal with these stereotypes. He does identify
his race as the main reason why his abilities may be underestimated. Similarly, Ethan
said: “If I go to a gym, with a bunch of like black dudes playing, they’re like, ‘Oh, who’s
215
this little Asian dude?’ Then I get on the court and dunk on them and they’re like, ‘Oh,
you can play.’” Both men boasted they had the skills to impress the other players if given
the chance, but felt that others may underestimate them due to their race. Ethan also
mentions that he is viewed as “little.” Just as with the women, small body size seemed to
only augment the salience of their ethic/racial difference on the court. When playing on
an all-Asian-American team, for example in intramural leagues at universities, this also
seemed to make race more salient and several reported that they sometimes got looks or
felt that the other team underestimated them. One of the few men who played at the
college-level said that people were surprised that he played at such a high level.
A common response from men, however, was to claim little or no surprise from
non-Asians. Andrew responded, “No, because basketball – I mean, a lot of people
participate in basketball.” Richard also mentioned the popularity of basketball, “No,
because I think basketball is such a popular sport now. There’s lots of places to play.”
Since many people play basketball, both men reasoned, it would be unlikely that anyone
would call into question an Asian American’s interest in the sport. It may be of
consequence that it was mainly the younger men who had more occasions to play at
playgrounds, open gyms, and in intramural college competition who encountered more
prejudice from fellow players, while older men tended to claim they had not had many
negative experiences. Another factor is that the greater Los Angeles area is so diverse
that it did appear that some men, and a few women, were able to go through their lives
without encountering (or at least noticing) any sort of surprised or negative reaction to
their basketball participation.
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Other than basketball’s popularity and Los Angeles’ diversity, body size appeared
to play a role in people’s conceptions, again presenting itself as a “mediator” in
interactions. Japanese American men who were on the taller side were not as likely to
report circumstances where they felt others were surprised by their basketball abilities.
Being tall and male was enough to convince others of their athleticism. For instance,
Keith is six feet tall. Although he admitted that non-Japanese American may not assume
he played basketball, he did not think anyone was overly surprised once he told them: “I
don’t think that they were ever surprised when they found out [I played basketball]. I
mean… yeah, I don’t think it ever really, was something that was surprising.” I had a
similar conversation with Paul:
Nicole: Has anyone ever been surprised that you play basketball? Can you
describe a situation where that’s come up?

Paul: Surprised? No. No one’s really been surprised.

Nicole: Because you’re a little bigger than average, it doesn’t occur to
them?

Paul: I kind of have that jock look, right?

Nicole: How tall are you?

Paul: 5 foot 11. But if I was a dainty girl who was really good at
basketball, I probably would get that look.

Paul views himself as looking the part of a “jock” and therefore easily identifiable as a
basketball player. He even names the characteristics that might make someone second-
guess his status: being female and being small. In this case, two out of three (male + tall)
helped an Asian American overcome most stereotypes about his athletic prowess.

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Coping with Challenges to One’s Identity
When Japanese American men and women presented themselves as basketball
players in mainstream contexts, they often experienced reactions – from subtle to overt –
that in many ways challenged this identity. How did they cope with these challenges to
their sense of self? My interviewees described some of their strategies such as attempting
to educate others by telling them about the J-Leagues or by proving themselves on the
court.
One strategy was to try to educate others about the J-Leagues. Debbie only
played a bit of basketball as a child, but raised two sons who played in the J-Leagues and
volunteers in many J-League related activities. She described her lunchtime experiences
at work as a teacher in Los Angeles:
Well, actually, here at school. Because my friend and I, our kids play, and
then at lunch we have like a lunch group and they are mostly Caucasian or
Latina or, you know, African American. If she and I are talking, they are
amazed and they have these preconceptions: “They are Japanese! They
are little! How can they play basketball?” It is hard to explain to them
that this is like a phenomenon, that there are so many kids that play. You
throw out a number like 10,000 kids who play and it is probably much
larger now. It has been a few years back but we did try to figure out the
numbers and that’s when we loosely came up with 10,000 … but yes,
people are amazed and it’s really hard to explain this phenomenon.

Debbie tried to explain to her non-Japanese American workmates about the J-Leagues,
citing research she and others did as part of her volunteer work. Debbie found it
frustrating that people did not seem to understand or believe her when she explained her
and her family’s role in the leagues. However, she was able to spread the word and
educate people about the leagues. Many participants expressed that part of the problem
was that many people just did not seem to know that the J-Leagues existed.
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For Ethan, it felt like a challenge to his masculinity when he was not immediately
recognized as a skilled player. He was eager to meet any challenges presented to him and
to prove himself on the court. In the case of Sandra and Isabel, their athleticism appeared
to challenge their peers’ masculinity, causing many to challenge the women to a game.
In every new context, the Asian American player had to “educate” non-Asian Americans
on their abilities.
Educating others about the widespread interest in basketball among Japanese
Americans – either by telling them about the J-Leagues or proving oneself on the court –
is in many ways a way to challenge controlling images of Asian Americans. In this
sense, they were practicing resistant agency. However, oftentimes resistance can be
paired with aspects of reproductive agency. In a study of a women’s rugby team, Ezzell
(2009) found that in assuming a possibly transgressive identity, players enacted strategies
to help them claim the most esteem in this role. For one, many players in his study
distanced themselves from stereotypes by implicating others in them. For example,
players may portray most women as weak, but not themselves. Ezzell calls this
“identifying with dominants.” Dominants would be considered those who embody
hegemonic masculinity. In the case of basketball, and considering the comparison to
Asian Americans, dominants would probably be inclusive of African American and white
American males, both being symbolic of “Americanness” as well as physical size and
strength.
Most likely due to the popularity of basketball within the Japanese American
community, I rarely observe individual players identifying with dominants (Ezzell 2009).
It would be difficult for a Japanese American to claim that most Japanese Americans
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were bad at sports, but that they themselves were the exception. Their life within the
community provided a direct conflict with this assertion. This demonstrates the power of
group participation. When Chen (1999) interviewed Chinese American men, he found
that some tried to gain access to hegemonic masculinity by distancing themselves from
being Chinese. One way that they accomplished this was by pursuing sports. These men
accepted the validity of certain hegemonic values, as well as the premise that (most)
Chinese Americans are not able or willing to pursue these values. They simply saw
themselves as exceptions. Chen argues that this form of ‘compensation” (similar to
Ezzell’s (2009) “identifying with dominants”) reproduces inequality by supporting the
idea that “a man is rightly measured by his athleticism, his sexual conquests, his
pocketbook, and his social enlightenment … Chinese American men do not measure up;
and that their failure to do so is typical” (601).
Unlike the men in Chen’s study, J-League participants had the strength of the
community behind them and with it the unquestionable feeling of normalcy surrounding
Asian Americans engaging in and excelling in sport. For Ezzell (2009), more significant
social change is possible when subordinated groups “seek access to these [hegemonic]
institutions without seeking approval from dominants.” The exclusiveness of the J-
Leagues may in some way represent this desire to participate in a mainstream practice
without all of the pressures of meeting mainstream standards. Even when participating in
mainstream environments, J-League players have the comfort in knowing that a safe
space exists and that there are others like them. Ezzell argues that the ability to seek
access without approval is:
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… most likely to occur when subordinates have achieved a sense of group
consciousness around subordinated identity(ies), and solidarity among
members. If a group identifies its struggles with those of the wider social
category (e.g., women, people of color, the queer community), members
have less incentive to become an “exception.” (125-26)

The Japanese Americans have such a strong sense of community that has the potential to
provide the group consciousness and solidarity necessary to offer emotional support for
its members and the ability to avoid identity-work that upholds inequalities and
controlling images. An active engagement with other Asian Americans who play
basketball not only allows Japanese Americans to distance themselves from controlling
images by playing in contexts where basketball is an appropriate way to do race/ethnicity,
but also allows them to refute these images in outside contexts. Likewise, the widespread
participation of women within the J-Leagues means that many stereotypes about women
in sport are absent or restructured (e.g. attitudes about women coaching men (see chapter
two)). Again, doing gender in the context of the J-Leagues is easily reconcilable with
basketball participation – if the women play outside of the J-Leagues and face different
standards of accountability, they may be able to act in resistant or subversive ways
because of the strength of the community.
Even though the J-Leagues provide space for a number of other Asian American
groups to participate in the leagues, a small number of interviewees made some
distinctions between Japanese Americans and other Asians whose families had
immigrated to America more recently. Debbie, for example, spoke about her son’s high
school:
Their graduating classes were both like 65% Asian, but on the sports
teams there were no Asians and of course we tend to think that a lot of
them are Koreans and Chinese who are first generation, but they are very,
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very smart. But the Japanese kids who are now fourth generation…they
are not so academic. They play on these sports teams. (Debbie, 59)

In a possible slip or purposeful distinction, Debbie actually says that there were no
Asians playing on the sports teams at her son’s high school, but later lets us know that
Japanese Americans are playing on the teams. Her sons both played for their high school
teams. In an interesting twist, Debbie also applies a model minority stereotype towards
the first (and probably second) generation Asian students at the high school,
distinguishing them from the Japanese Americans who are “not so academic.”
In another example, Brandon compared his athletic experiences to a friend who
was second generation Chinese American:
If you talk to Asian immigrant groups, Korean and Chinese, there’s a
tendency to have a lot less emphasis on athletics, rather on academics. I
think what you’ll see in later generations, like JAs in the third, fourth
generation, is more of an emphasis on being well-rounded and not being
afraid to be really involved in athletics. I was just talking to my friend,
she’s second generation Chinese … She had to lie to her parents that she
was on the volleyball team in high school … That was such a foreign idea
to me … because my parents were so supportive and so much a part of my
athletics growing up. It didn’t even occur to me that that was possible.
She said she had to hide it … whereas my dad and mom were at every
game, whether it was during the season or in summer leagues or whatever.

Neither Debbie nor Brandon brought up any perceived physical limitations of Asians, but
rather their view that more recent immigrants may be more focused on school rather than
athletics. In this way, some Japanese Americans could be “identifying with dominants”
by aligning their ethnicity with the American sport of basketball, while implicating more
recent immigrant Asian groups as evidence of stereotypes such as the model minority
myth. Because the stereotypes of the model minority paint Asian Americans as overly
academic and less interested in sports, emphasizing their foreignness and perceived
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cultural differences (Kim 1999), to say that the Japanese American students play sports
and are “not so academic” is to align them with (white) Americans. Just as with the
newspaper coverage (see chapter three), the Japanese Americans are probably trying to
dispute the stereotype that they perceive as most painful, that of the “foreigner” by seeing
themselves as well-rounded, inclusive of athletic participation. One strategy to do this is
to distinguish themselves from other Asians Americans who fit more into the stereotype
of model minority (implying certain foreign cultural traits that help them succeed). This
type of image management, however, was not very common during my interviews.
The most common strategy amongst interviewees that could be characterized as
reproductive agency was to agree with the stereotype that all Asians are small. Most
interviewees did put forth the idea that Asians were short and therefore may face some
challenges to excelling in mainstream basketball. In some ways, this aligns with what
Ezzell (2009) describes as “propping up dominants.” This strategy involves subordinates
espousing the “natural” differences between them and a superordinate group. Although
J-League participants had a lot of pride and felt that their skills and training made them
excellent assets to high school and college teams, there was also a frequent assertion that
Asian Americans were at a disadvantage physically when competing in mainstream
environments.
Again, the “dominant” in the basketball world is debatable. When Japanese
Americans spoke about their experiences playing basketball in mainstream environments
(schools, Park and Rec, etc.), their actual experiences were very diverse. Playing in the
Los Angeles area, they may participate in a predominantly white, African American,
Asian American or Latino American basketball context – or a mix of any of the above.
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When interviewees described their perceived limitations in mainstream environments,
they often did not indicate who these “taller” players were. Although some clearly
articulated that African Americans were more “athletic” and whites “taller/bigger,” most
spoke in general terms about players in the mainstream situations. For example, Keith
played in high school and compared the experience to the J-Leagues: “I think the J-
leagues are athletic, but not… super athletic like the people that you might play in high
school that, you know, are like 6’3 and can do that impressive kind of thing.” I should
have pushed Keith to explain further here, but I interpret this comment to be referring to
both tall and athletic (“can do that impressive kind of thing”) competitors in mainstream
contexts. From speaking with other participants, the tallness is usually attributed to white
players, while the athleticism is usually attributed to African-American players.
Although interviewees did not often overtly racialize themselves or other races,
they did seem to see shortness as a uniquely Japanese American issue (or sometimes
Asian American issue). When speaking about the issue of body size in basketball, my
interviewees spoke about Japanese Americans as a group. Even if they themselves were
not easily defined as short, they embraced shortness as a group characteristic.

“The Japanese are close to the ground”:
Collective Identity as Short
Japanese American basketball players collectively struggle with the same
predicament that most basketball aficionados, including myself, face at some juncture:
the realization that one is probably not tall enough to be a college or professional
basketball star. Whereas most people face this disappointing insight alone, or perhaps
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share it with a friend or family member, the Japanese Americans take on the issue
together. Consequently, the perceived limitations of one’s genetic makeup are not
understood as an individual obstacle, but a collective one. Ben summed up the group’s
understanding of itself: “The Japanese are close to the ground.”
In fact, Japanese Americans are not uniformly short and the concept of “short” is
itself is a socially constructed understanding of height. Moreover, the issue of height is
amplified in the socially defined space of basketball, as tall is often defined as superior.
Most players whom I interviewed agreed that height was an advantage in basketball.
They often argued that fundamentals, speed, and other skill sets were just as important as
height. However, height was seen as an indisputable advantage; whereas other skills
were often described as compensatory. As one coach, Richard, tells his boys’ teams:
In the game of basketball, height is probably the biggest advantage, or lack
of it is the biggest disadvantage. If you want to compete at the next level,
if you don’t have height, you’d better be able to run fast, you’d better be
able to shoot well, you’d better be able to dribble well, and you’d better be
able to pass well.

Richard appears to coach his boys assuming, first and foremost, a collective position of
height-disadvantage. Secondly, even though he coached a J-League team that would face
only other majority Asian teams, he appears to assume a desire to compete outside of the
leagues (“the next level”) where teams made up of more diverse ethnicities would have a
(perceived) advantage in height. Finally, his coaching involved preparing them to build
compensatory skills to overcome this disadvantage.
Because height is so valued in basketball, it becomes a context where the majority
of people, no matter what their ethnicity or race, would probably be judged as short. A
Japanese American example would be UCLA guard Allison Taka, who stands at 5’8”.
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This would generally be considered an above average height for a woman off the court,
but on the court she is frequently the smallest player. On the men’s side, a six-foot
Japanese American man could be considered short within the college basketball context.
Often the Japanese-American player is on the smaller side for basketball, thus occupying
a space that easily confirms the collective identity as short. As such, it becomes
something that Japanese Americans involved in the J-Leagues talk about, work around,
and deal with on a regular basis. Height and size were such salient topics that they came
up in interviews more than any other topic, despite the fact that I had no questions on my
interview guide that directly asked about these issues.
Height can therefore be understood in the J-League basketball context as a highly
salient element with enormous symbolic value. Height becomes racialized and gendered,
as it is often discussed and experienced in relation to these social categories. For most of
my interviewees, height is a salient, lived experience that intersects with race and gender
in notable ways.

Accepting the Stereotype: Asians are Short
Most Japanese Americans internalized and accepted the idea that Japanese
Americans (or Asians in general) are uniformly short. They also often identified it as a
stereotype that others held about the group. When asked if he or his children had faced
any stereotyping when playing outside the J-Leagues Jimmy paused and then answered,
“No, not really. My son, he played a little bit of AAU ball. He played a lot of non-Asian
teams, but I don’t think so. Just that we were very small. [laughs] That’s about the only
thing. [laughs]” The intermittent laugher Jimmy included in his comments appears to
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indicate that he agrees with the idea that Asians are short. Richard echoed these
sentiments, answering the question about stereotypes by saying: “Well, you know, in
general, it was pretty obvious. The Asians were a lot shorter.” So, although shortness
was perceived at times as a stereotype, it was also seen as “obvious,” particularly in the
context of basketball.
In explaining the origins and purpose of the J-Leagues, participants first and
foremost call upon the perceived collective height limitation. For example, Jake
explained the origins of the league using this theme: “The leagues started because a lot of
JAs in the past couldn’t get on the team because they were so short.” These explanations
were often framed in the context of opportunity. If Japanese Americans were forced to
play exclusively in the mainstream, many would not get as much playing time or may not
make the teams altogether due to their height. Andrew, a Chinese-American participant,
explained:
The program they had set up is a Japanese American league for one
purpose … Most Japanese Americans are not 6 feet tall, 6 foot 2, 6 foot 3.
They’re shorter. So, therefore being able to participate within their own
group makes it a more competitive league. Whereas you play in other
leagues, you have a mixed group of nationalities and a lot of the abilities.
You may not be able to play up to their ability, so you won’t have the
opportunity to go out and play. So having their own league amongst the
Japanese community, you play amongst your own peer group, people with
the same ability, and that’s mainly the reason they started this program.

Andrew is actually fairly tall and probably referring to himself when he quoted heights
over six feet. However, his experiences playing in the J-Leagues since he was a young
man had meant that he understood the meanings attached to height within the leagues and
what that meant to the participants in terms of opportunities to play.
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A controversial subject for many involved in the J-Leagues is the eligibility rules
for participation. They are sometimes described as discriminatory or racist because they
give priority to players primarily based on ethnic and racial bases. A very common
argument for maintaining the exclusivity of the leagues is the preservation of a height-
controlled environment. Some league rules are very true to this interpretation. For
example, one league had a rule that anyone of any race or ethnicity can play in the
leagues if they start prior to a certain age. Once established on a team, you can continue
to play with that team or league for as long as you would like. Whereas, if one tried to
join after a particular age, they would then have to follow strict eligibility standards that
prioritize Japanese American and other Asian American participants. Jimmy explained
this rule:
You have to play at a younger age and be grandfathered in. So, we do
have non-Asians that play in our particular league, but they just can’t
come in at an older age …. because by the time you’re in fifth or sixth
grade, you can see, “She’s pretty good,” “She’s very tall.” At the younger
ages, you don’t know. If you play, you take your chances.

Having more liberal ethnicity rules in the earlier age-brackets is intended to prevent
teams from recruiting non-Asian players simply due to their height (or other advantage).
What is interesting is that race and ethnicity here are both essentialized and not. Asians
are essentialized as short, as the leagues are assumed to be made up of mostly small
players and therefore vulnerable to tall outsiders. However, other races are not
necessarily essentialized, at least in terms of height. It is recognized that there are tall
players among other ethnicities, but also that there are some who are not. At age five or
six, supposedly one would not know the future height of the player, and thus non-Asian
players are less suspect. Size, then, is understood almost exclusively as an Asian issue.
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As Genevieve understood it, Asians were the one group that could justify
“discriminating” against other groups in a sport such as basketball:
You know, growing up in it, I never thought about it that way [as racist],
but when I look upon it, I feel like, yeah, if any other ethnic group would
do that, maybe you’d see, like if it’s an all white group or all black group,
it’s a little odd, but I think that because of our size, it kind of gives us an
avenue where we can actually compete rather than being run out of a
league. And I think that’s why I don’t find it to be such a racial, um… or -
such like a race issue in that aspect. I don’t see it like, oh I don’t want to
play with other ethnic groups, but I think it’s like, I can actually play, and
actually have a chance, you know? For instance, a great example is the
guys, how many can actually dunk? Then you bring in other guys who are
6’3” that can easily dunk, and it’s like … on that level now. It’s a very
different level of playing above the rim versus playing below the rim.

Genevieve distinguishes the J-League exclusivity from other forms of discrimination
because it is not for the purpose of preventing interaction with other races/ethnicities, but
rather to give Asian Americans the opportunities to play that they may not have
otherwise. She also mentions a gender difference, using the men’s ability to dunk as an
example of a disadvantage many Japanese American men are perceived to have. Some of
the discussions of height differed along gender lines.

Height as a Male-Only Problem?
Although most discussion of height disadvantage fell along race-based lines (i.e.
all Asians are short), many participants also brought up the idea that height may be more
of a disadvantage for men when compared to women. Mas explained:
Yeah, they’re up against tough odds as far as their size. But if they’re
willing to work hard enough, they can get there. It’s true for the girls, but
the boys have to overcome a lot more because of the size factor. It’s
pretty – although kids nowadays, Asian kids, they’re getting bigger. But
not like some of these other ethnicities. It’s still tough for them. And
again, girls, it’s more of a, it’s not as, the game isn’t as aerial. You can be
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smaller and still compete. But whereas the boys’ game, it’s definitely
above the ground.

Again, a participant asserts the idea that a game played “below the rim” would be more
suitable to Asian Americans. In his estimation, much of boys’ and men’s basketball in
the mainstream is played above the rim, whereas much of girls’ and women’s basketball
in the mainstream is not. Therefore, this is why Japanese American female talent
translated better in mainstream contexts than did their male counterparts’.
For men, height was often given as a reason for not pursuing mainstream
basketball. Brandon is an example. He did not even play in the J-Leagues as a child
because his parents discouraged it. He only ended up joining the J-Leagues as an adult
because friends and co-workers were involved. Brandon described his parent’s decision:
Well, they gave me a funny explanation. [laughs] Basketball for Asians is
not necessarily the most promising sport, as you elevate through the ranks.
I guess physical limitations, height, whatever. So, growing up, I played
golf. Baseball was my thing that I played in college. So, I was steered
more towards those fields. My dad wanted me to compete not just with
other JAs, but with everybody, in the best competition there was. So, I
think that had a big part to do with why I didn’t play in the JA leagues.

Brandon’s father was very competitive-minded about sports and coached his son to
pursue golf and baseball. Brandon did end up playing baseball in college as a non-
scholarship player. His father used height as the explanation for the sport of choice – not
necessarily because that particular family was short, but because Asians are short. A
former J-League participant who is now a parent of two young players, Barbara said that
she doesn’t worry about basketball taking away from school. Her son does his
homework before basketball and school work is the priority. She related that her husband
felt even more strongly that school should come before basketball. She quoted him as
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saying: “They’re too short. There’s only so many point guards.” She felt that her son
could play recreationally in college rather than pursuing a spot on the official team.
Again, priority was placed elsewhere, on schoolwork this time, because basketball did
not seem a likely prospect given the height disadvantage.
Role-modeling seems to play a role in this perception of height disadvantage.
Participants sometimes remarked on how height used to be an issue for women, but now
with the emergence of certain successful players, not as much. For example, Karen
remarked, “For women, they always look at height. But now, you’re kind of noticing that
as long as the person can handle the ball and bring the ball up the court, like Jamie
[Hagiya], it doesn’t matter. Height doesn’t matter. Boys, it can’t be like that.” Karen
seems to imply that the height issue for women is improving due to players like Hagiya
who, at 5’4”, started on a varsity, NCAA Division I team. However, she feels the men
don’t have a chance because she believes there is a much more entrenched minimum
height requirement in men’s basketball. There also have not been as many role models
on the men’s side, furthering the belief that a Japanese-American man has little chance of
being a dominant player in college basketball.

Basketball = An African-American Space?
The perceived differences in opportunities for men versus women in college and
professional basketball may not only speak to a different style of game, but to an
unspoken vision of men’s college and professional basketball as a predominantly
African-American space. In 2008, 60.4 percent of NCAA Division I men’s and 47.4
percent of Division I women’s college basketball players were African American (both
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were the highest percentages of African Americans ever) (Lapchick 2009). So, although
African Americans are a substantial presence in Division I women’s basketball, they are
not quite as dominant as they are in Division I men’s basketball. Could this racial
difference in college basketball be influential in why height is perceived as a greater
challenge for men than for women in moving on to college-level play? This perception
by my interviewees may be quite accurate since in 2008-09, 0.4% of Division I men’s
and 1.1 percent of Division I women’s college basketball players were Asian/Pacific
Islander (Lapchick 2009), showing that more than twice the number of Asian/Pacific
Islander women than men are excelling at this level.
Though the racialization of African American as superior athletically and
dominant in basketball may be stronger in the men’s game, it also had the potential to
permeate perceptions within the women’s game. For example, one of my survey
respondents, Lisa, had some concerns about the strictness of the ethnic/racial criteria for
participation in many of the leagues:
I am in an inter-racial marriage and my husband’s niece who is three-
fourths African American and one-fourth Chinese wanted to join a team
(organization will not be named). After a few practices, her race came
into question. “Is she Japanese?” “How much Chinese is she?” She is a
seven year old child just like every other player on the team. His niece
absolutely loved playing on this team and among the girls, race was not an
issue. It was more of an issue with the parents. In the end, she was asked
not to play because the parents said they wanted their team to be a
competitive team and they were concerned about her basketball skills
development level holding their team back. The coach also mentioned
that they were concerned that if other teams saw that they had a black
player on their team, even though she was part Chinese, they might think
that just because she is black she would stereotypically be a more skilled
athlete and not be invited to tournaments. She is a seven year old girl!

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In this case, the stereotypes about African American superiority in sport (as attitudes
projected on tournament leaders) prevented a young girl from participating in the J-
Leagues, even though the coach identified her as less-skilled than the other players.

Height/Size Discourse as a Way to Talk about Race:
Colorblind Racism
Bonilla-Silva (2003) and Collins (2005) suggest that the current discourse
supporting racism and racial hierarchy is “colorblind” or “new” racism. Whites feel less
able to articulate racist attitudes or create racist policies/laws, but are able to advance
their own privilege simply by ignoring race. By making race invisible, a person’s
problems are individualized and are viewed as created by one’s own values and behaviors
(and not due to institutionalized racism or discrimination). People of color are
discouraged from bringing up race, told that they are perpetuating the problem by calling
attention to racial differences or accused of “playing the race card.”
Many of my interviewees seemed uncomfortable or uninterested in discussing
discrimination, stereotypes or other disadvantages they may have faced due to their status
as an Asian American. The rhetoric of colorblindness may have influenced this reaction.
When my interviewees described encounters with non-Japanese Americans, quite a few
said that they had experienced very little discrimination or attention to their race or
ethnicity. However, I heard many stories about non-Asians focusing on the issue of
height in basketball-related encounters with Japanese Americans. Furthermore, many of
my interviewees attributed any experiences where others questioned their basketball
abilities or excluded them from playing as due to their height rather than an act of race or
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gender discrimination. Therefore, I argue that height became a euphemism for race
and/or gender in negotiating and understanding interactions.

“Little Shorty”/“Little Tokyo”: Mainstream Obsessions with Height
In mainstream environments, there was a clear intersection of height with race
and gender discrimination – that is, height became an easy way for outsiders to practice
discrimination or reveal prejudiced ideas about Asian participation in sports. Take the
story of Neal who stands at 5’10” with an athletic build. During his adolescence, he tried
out for the varsity high school team at a school in Los Angeles. However, the coach set a
litmus test for his acceptance on the team: he would have to dunk the ball.
That’s how it was back then. This was in the middle ‘70s. The coach was
Black. I guess he was getting pressure from the kids, so he told me
basically, “The only way you’re gonna make this team is if you slam
dunk.” Basically, that was it. I already could touch the rim anyway, so it
was just a matter of palming the ball and slamming it, which I eventually
did. So they couldn’t say nothing, right? I remember I started my first
game, and I scored 31 points that first game. And I didn’t start after that.
Yes. ‘Cause all the kids complained that it was ball-hogging and stuff like
that. So, pretty much I didn’t play for the next ten to twelve games.

Neal found himself on a team of entirely African-American players with an African-
American coach. As a racial outsider, a height-related challenge was put before him –
could he dunk? When he successfully met the challenge, he felt the coach had to play
him, but his playing time was quickly squelched due to perceptions about his playing
style. Neal interpreted this as race-based discrimination, but he felt that it was somewhat
understandable since the other players “had never played with any other nationality.”
The coach never had to actually speak about the racial difference between Neal and the
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other players, but was able to use height as a potential way to exclude him from the
varsity team.
Others players found that their height became a focus for teammates. Although
she found it endearing, Jamie Hagiya was called “Little Tokyo” by teammates. Another
college player, Allison Taka, who I used as an example of being fairly tall for a woman at
5’8”, said this of her experiences:
I’m the only Asian on the basketball team … Because I’m unique … that’s
what they’re gonna pick me out for. Because I have small feet. They’re
all like, “Your feet are so small, how do you balance?” … There’s a girl
who’s shorter than me, but I’m by far the smallest proportioned … I have
the smallest hands. I don’t know what that implies. And like I said, my
feet are small, so I get the smallest shoes. “Your feet are so small! What
size is that?”

Even though Taka is not the shortest player on her team, her physique still draws
attention, ostensibly because she has small feet. Rather than focus straightforwardly on
her being the only Asian on her team, her teammates are able to direct comments at her
hands and feet, repeatedly pointing out how small they are. In doing so, they construct
Taka as “different” without mentioning her race. Natalie Nakase found in high school
that her height became a fascination for local media:
But height was always – I mean, my first article in high school was called
“Little Shorty.” I remember that. It was in, like, the city, my city paper. I
was like, “Really? That’s my first article?” I was like, “Oh, my God,
that’s so funny.” It’s always been about my height. Actually, I almost
enjoy articles about my height. At first it was kind of like, “Okay.” And
after while I kind of just got annoyed, you know what I mean? I’m like,
“I’ve proven myself. I’m over it. It’s not affecting how I play.” So, I just
kind of keep it positive. If they want to write about that, feel free, but a lot
of it was [as] if it was something that they wanted to affect my game. I
would always try to flip it and turn it into a positive, taking it as
motivation. I have a lot of non-believers, just keep coming, just prove ‘em
wrong.

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Hagiya, Taka, and Nakase faced nicknames, jokes, and media attention that focused on
their size – attention that would most likely not have been as frequent or intense were
they not Asian American. Nakase later tried out for the WNBA, but felt as if recruiters
and coaches were unwilling to look at her because of her height. She said, “Part of my
continuation with basketball was always … Is it possible? Will they just look at my size
and say no?” Being as small as Nakase, who is 5’1”, may be an obstacle for anyone
attempting to play at higher levels of basketball. However, the WNBA’s Los Angeles
Sparks in 2008 signed Shannon Bobbitt, who is listed as 5’2” on the Sparks roster. So, it
is not impossible. Bobbitt is African American.
Many Japanese Americans experienced coaches, teammates, and media as
obsessively focused on their small stature. Although no one can say for sure what were
the true thoughts and intentions of the parties involved, it is probable that height became
a way to speak about and construct the Asian American player as different, giving the
parties a language that was not race-based, therefore allowing them to speak about race
and racial difference without ever saying the words.

Rationalizing Mainstream Reactions – Using Height
Just as mainstream coaches, players, and onlookers seemed able to focus on
stature or body size rather than admit to race or gender stereotypes, it was also a way that
Japanese Americans themselves made sense of mainstream reactions to their basketball
abilities.
When asked if people are ever surprised that she plays or coaches, Danielle claims
up front that her size is the reason people are surprised that she’s a coach:
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Well, I get this all the time, not because I’m Japanese, but because I’m
short. People will say, “Are you a basketball coach? You’re so short.”
And I want to scream because I’ve heard that all along … I would confide
in some of my friends, “You know, I’m really sick and tired of people
thinking that because I’m a 5’2” Japanese American, that I’m just a
reserved person.” So, I think that’s why I developed this outside persona,
because really, if you ask some referees, I have – I talk so much trash to
them, it’s funny. They’re like, “That person may look quiet, but she can
say some things under her breath that really get you going.” My friends
who really know me well … I have a mouth on me. I can give it right
back to people. I can get a little snarly. I get so tired of people saying that
Asians are supposed to be the – there’s even a book called The Quiet
American, it’s about, I think, the Nisei generation. My parents would tell
me, “Our generation, we were taught to be very respectful and not to talk
back.” But I think a lot of that has to do with our camp experience. They
were told to go here, do this. But I think that image of the quiet little
reserved person … I’m just tired of people thinking that. Like, they’ll say,
“Have you ever gotten a technical?” “Yes.” “You?” “Why are you
surprised at me and not somebody else?”

For Danielle, her size, ethnicity, and probably her gender all played a role in others’
ability to envision her as a college-level coach. Her comments allude to this, but she
begins with a strong assertion: “not because I’m Japanese, but because I’m short.”
Interviewing J-League participants, I often heard that they were challenged or
underestimated in mainstream basketball arenas –not because of their race, most claimed,
but because of their height. I began to wonder – is this a case of one, as Shakespeare puts
it, protesting too much? I continued to think more about this when an African-American
student shared with the discussion class I was leading that she, as one of the few African
American students on campus, was often asked if she was an athlete. Like many of the
college women athletes I spoke with, she often got guesses – usually track or basketball.
However, this student was not an athlete. Moreover, she could not have been over 5’2”
and rather petite in frame. Here was a person who, because of her race, was assumed by
others to be an athlete, despite her small stature and despite being a woman. And the
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sports that people guessed fell right along racial stereotypes, perhaps not surprisingly
since those that asked in the first place were already stereotyping her, insinuating that it
was unlikely she was attending the university purely for academics. In this case, my
student’s experience of being short and female did not necessarily discourage people
from thinking she was a basketball player. Instead, her status as an African American
attending a university caused people to assume that she was a student-athlete.
I asked many J-League participants if anyone had ever expressed surprise that
they played basketball. For those who answered in the affirmative, a common
explanation was height:
First of all, the first thing they would say is, “How tall are you?” [laughs]
I’m 5 foot 5. In the Asian leagues I was one of the taller girls. But at the
college level, I was the shortest, if not one of the shortest. That was the
first reaction, my height. And I don’t look like a basketball player to a lot
of people. (Madeleine)

Madeleine has had many encounters where people immediately asked about her height in
relation to basketball, so she was sure that this was what made her an unlikely candidate.
Also, she did not “look like a basketball player.” When I asked Chelsea if her ethnicity
had ever come up when playing outside of the J-Leagues, she responded:
Not so much. More so my stature. Like, in junior high school, it was like,
“Oh, the short 5 foot 2 Japanese girl that plays basketball!” [laughs] But
yeah, it was fun. People didn’t expect that I’d play basketball. They’d
always be like, in high school, “Oh, are you on the cheering squad?” I’m
like, “No.” [laughs] “I play basketball.” They’re like, “Oh!”

When she played basketball in college, Chelsea continued to have these experiences:
Just walking around, we had … some big event, and just being around
athletics, I think they assume that I was either on the cheer squad or dance
team or whatnot. But I’m like, “No, I play basketball.” So I think just by
my physical appearance, people don’t think that I play basketball or
anything like that. I’m not 6 foot. I’m not super-athletic-looking.
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Chelsea is like many of the other Japanese American women who described people’s
surprise and misidentification. However, Chelsea feels that her height is the main reason
why people might react in this way, even though she was referred to as the “5 foot 2
Japanese girl,” both her ethnicity and her gender highlighted. For these women quoted
above, bringing up basketball in mainstream contexts consistently meant that others
questioned or expressed surprise at their affiliation with basketball. They reasoned that
their size was probably the main cause behind these questions.
Reasoning that small stature was behind any teasing or questioning they received
about basketball, many interviewees could avoid thinking about how other stereotypes
may have been at play. In addition, for Asian Americans, discussion of height may be a
nicer, symbolic way to express feelings and describe experiences of being a minority –
both in society and in basketball. Without bringing up racial or feminist politics, many of
my interviewees could discuss their own as well as the collective challenges that came
along with being short. As discussed in chapter four, the emergence of Japanese-
American women as the most visible icons of mainstream success in basketball permits,
to a certain degree, a way to celebrate an exaggerated image of the group’s collective
identity as small.
Both participants and onlookers are able to consume (and enact) images of small
Japanese Americans who are beating the odds:
The reality of it is that we are physically smaller, we’re shorter, but I think
getting to be able to enjoy something that’s not really a little persons sport,
and being able to enjoy it and carry it through to the rest of your life is an
accomplishment, I think. (Rebecca)

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Rebecca indicates that just enjoying and participating in a sport not meant for small
people elicits a feeling of accomplishment. Debbie makes a similar comment:
Well I think it’s just pride. You know? People assume that Japanese
Americans can’t play basketball and especially when you see these girls,
they are so little. Some of them are barely five feet one, five feet two, and
yet they are little dynamos.

Debbie expresses a sense pride at seeing college-level Japanese-American women,
particularly because they are small in stature. Interviewees were able to connect their
pride in successful players to other factors – racial pride, organizational pride, familial
pride – but by adding in comments about height, they also indicated a sense of group
disadvantage. Most did not believe or did not want to think of this as a racial
disadvantage, but rather a height disadvantage. However, when Bob spoke about how
Asian Americans are perceived, it is clear that size and race are linked concepts:
As Asians you probably always feel like you’re an underdog. Because
always in the … society, it’s always whoever is bigger, more of a
controlling individual than a smaller individual. I mean when you’re
small, you tend to, you can either go one [way] or the other, you either
have a chip on your shoulder, or you’re very, what word am I looking
for… withdrawn, a little more quieter and just kind of take the abuse, or
kind of out-of-sight, out-of-mind, get lost in the shuffle.

Bob enjoys coaching in the J-Leagues as a way to help young men overcome a sense of
being an underdog by gaining self esteem in basketball.

J-League Buffer
In discussing the issue of people being surprised they play basketball, particularly
with women, I was struck by the differences in experiences inside versus outside of the
Japanese-American community. Women experienced a great deal of skepticism and
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surprise at their abilities in basketball from people they met who were not Japanese
American. However, meeting a Japanese American was an entirely different story. Most
Japanese Americans knew about the J-Leagues or participated in some way themselves.
Therefore, women – small or not – became presumed athletes rather suspect ones.
Spending enough time in the community can cause some to wonder at an outsider’s
ignorance. Recall that Maggie mentioned that, “Guys, maybe who aren’t Japanese, they
might say, ‘Oh you play basketball?’ To me it’s like, ‘Yeah, of course.’ It’s like kind of
weird to hear that side.” Although sheltered, J-League and Japanese American
environments provide a rather safe space for girls and women. In these contexts, their
athleticism is acknowledged, praised, and respected. Although the difference may be
more dramatic for women, men also found a similar dichotomy of experience. They too
found a more comfortable experience in the J-Leagues where they played without
concern for stereotypes about their race, ethnicity or height.
For most J-League participants, male or female, J-Leagues end up being their
primary basketball experiences. If they venture out into Parks and Recreation leagues or
school teams, many identify the J-League experience as superior and say that they prefer
to play in the J-Leagues. The most common reason given why the J-Leagues are
superior? Well, other than they are well-organized, many people mentioned the height-
controlled environment. Other reasons: family atmosphere, continuity of teams, and
quality of coaching. However, remember that Diane voiced another reason she disliked
playing in Parks and Recreation leagues: “A lot times they don’t think Asians can play.
And they get kind of rude. I got ‘chink’.”
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Given that so many J-League participants stay or return to the leagues, making it
their primary playing space, it might not be as surprising that a majority of my
interviewees had trouble coming up with a stereotype regarding Asians in sport. Many
brought up more “positive” stereotypes such as that Asians were quick, or that Japanese
Americans were good at basketball.
In terms of more positive stereotypes (“they’re quick,” “they’re good”), it appears
that the J-Leagues do have some prestige among some Southern California high schools
and colleges. Not everyone is surprised to see Japanese Americans dominating on the
court. For example, Sandra explained that the local J-League in the South Bay area,
“feeds so many of the high school kids. The coaches are very aware that these kids are
prepared; these kids come in with all their fundamentals. They know plays, they know
what to do. So, they’re almost a step ahead.” Chelsea also said of her college coach:
Chelsea: She says we play the same. Basically, all Asian league[rs] have
the same type of game. I guess you could say, like, we – I guess what
people think is that we’re smarter. Not smarter, but we focus more on the
fundamentals, we think about the game. We’re supposed to be good
outside shooters and drive and pass. It’s basically that kind of roles, I
guess. Not everyone was exactly the same, but that’s the basic outline of
us.

Nicole: Do you think that there’s a certain reputation among the local
schools?

Chelsea: I think so. I think that they know that if you want a smart player,
the Japanese league-I think people know that. It is kind of true, like, the
way we all-we like to pass a lot, because we think about the team because
that’s how we were brought up in the Asian league, teamwork and
sportsmanship and stuff like that.

Chelsea’s coach is clearly aware of the J-Leagues and regularly recruits from them
knowing that they tend to have a certain style of play. Although stereotypes and
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generalizations are not necessarily a good thing, these comments at least demonstrate that
the stereotypes diverge from some of the standard ideological assaults (Espiritu) that
Asian Americans can face.
The J-Leagues provide the buffer of a controlled environment and their reputation
sometimes helps to provide “positive” stereotypes about Japanese Americans who play in
the leagues. For high schools and colleges and colleges where J-League talents have
consistently been a presence, the talented players emerging from the leagues are no
surprise.

Conclusion
How are differences between the J-Leagues and mainstream environments
experienced by the participants? These diverse experiences provide valuable data about
the lived experience of intersecting oppressions and related identities, as well as how
interactions differ in environments where actors tend to reproduce gender and racial
hegemony as compared to environments such as the J-Leagues that exhibit divergent
patterns. Although an imperfect model (arguably all interactions occur within a localized
context), it may be fruitful to think of J-League contexts as constitutive of a local gender
regime and mainstream contexts as representative of the gender order. In this model, we
can examine the relationship between the two contexts, providing further resources for
theorizing power relations.
Within the J-Leagues and the connected Japanese-American communities, people
relate to one another based on assumptions about participation in the J-Leagues. These
assumptions make up a unique system of accountability. Since so many people become
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involved with basketball, the sport becomes a common topic of conversation. When
meeting new people or more distant acquaintances, basketball becomes an ice-breaker.
Participants often described a ritual of interaction where people try to determine which
friends they have in common by referencing basketball networks. Belonging to these
networks becomes part of the system of accountability that is interconnected with
expectations for “doing” race/ethnicity, gender, and class.
This chapter looks specifically at the part that identity plays in “doing” race, class,
and gender and demonstrates how actors can negotiate a fairly stable identity, that of
basketball player, in multiple contexts where this identity is more or less acceptable.
Because identity as a basketball player is laden with symbolism about race, class, and
gender, it provides a useful illustration of how these intersecting oppressions based on
embodied symbols can influence interactions. It is in sport, where bodies are so salient,
that one can observe more clear-cut reactions to bodies that subvert dominant images.
A system of accountability that assumes girls and women play and/or have
knowledge of sport subverts traditional male dominance in sport. Interviews reveal that
most women involved in the J-Leagues feel a sense of respect from their male
counterparts that stands in contrast to much of the feedback they receive in mainstream
environments. Many women involved in the J-Leagues also explained that the J-Leagues
gave them strength, made them brave enough to try basketball in mainstream contexts,
such as their high school team. This finding may point to the power of local gender
regimes that allow for alternate patterns of gender practice. Even outside of the local
environment, those with sufficient exposure to the local regime may be able to ignore or
feel empowered to negotiate with others attempting to enforce dominant patterns.
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Additionally, by nature of its racial/ethnic boundaries, this same system assumes
active participation by Asian Americans (majority Japanese Americans) and holds
Japanese Americans accountable for participation in basketball as an appropriate way to
“do” ethnicity and community (as well as gender). This basic understanding of Asian
Americans, both male and female, as appropriate, normalized athletes becomes a counter-
hegemonic project that stands in contrast to controlling images that would assume a
physical deficit or cultural disjuncture between Asianness and an American game.
Cultural and biological triangulations between Asian Americans, African
Americans, and whites play a dominant role in the racial ideologies surrounding Japanese
American participation in basketball. As African Americans are viewed as dominating
the top levels of basketball (particularly men’s basketball), whites and Asian American
bodies are viewed as less physically gifted (although whites are sometimes viewed as
possessing height). Whites (and particularly white women) engage with basketball as
part of being well-rounded Americans, while Asian Americans can often be seen as
possessing a foreign culture (even after several generations in America) that prevents
them from participating “mainstream” American sports.
It is within this context of racial comparison that most J-League participants agree
with the image of the Asian “race” as physically smaller, with the often unspoken groups
in comparison being African Americans and whites. This self-image as short or small is
reified in rhetoric about the purpose of the leagues, which is often seen as a necessarily
exclusive of non-Asians in order to preserve a height-controlled environment. Therefore,
despite the collective action that the J-Leagues represent, providing safe spaces for Asian
Americans to play basketball virtually unburdened by dominant images, the definition of
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the leagues themselves plays into dominant understandings of race that aid in normalizing
white males.
In mainstream environments, some J-League participants described experiences
where people were surprised or trivialized their connections to basketball. As described
in both women’s and men’s experiences, height became a mediating factor for many in
interpreting a person’s legitimacy as a basketball player. Being small or short seemed to
make women appear more female and Asian Americans appear more Asian. The
increased saliency of these identities caused others to, at best, express surprise at their
athleticism and, at worst to belittle or discriminate against the player. Height also gave
those interacting with Asian Americans an easy way to speak about them “not being the
type” to play basketball and to trivialize them or exclude them (especially women) from
play.
Height or “size” becomes the symbol around which race and gender are centered.
Both mainstream actors (described by interviewees) and J-League participants seemed to
use height as a euphemism for either or both. Thus both female bodies and Asian bodies
were coded as “short bodies” and easily excluded from sport (or self-segregated into the
J-Leagues) without having to talk about the politics of race and gender.

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CHAPTER FIVE: Conclusion

The basketball leagues are exceptional. They’re successful beyond
anyone’s comprehension … and they affect everything around them.
(Mitch)

When the Nisei in California began to participate in a wide range of community
sports in the 1920s and 30s, they probably could not have imagined the future popularity
of J-League basketball. Just as the Playground Movement (Cahn 1994) touched the lives
of the early Nisei generation , Title IX and the growing popularity of organized youth
sports (Adler and Adler 1994) touched the lives of the Sansei and Yonsei generations of
the past forty years, helping to bring basketball to its heightened role in the Japanese-
American community. Many of the organizers and participants seem unaware of the
origins of J-League basketball or how it became so central to the community, but they see
the palpable results in terms of community cohesion and, as a result, give every effort to
sustaining and growing the programs that they have.
The gender-inclusiveness that has helped to facilitate the success of the J-Leagues
also seems to be, in some ways, an unconscious progression for the community. In the
past, girls and women have often had access to sports in the Japanese-American
community, planting the seed for their active inclusion, but it is only in recent years that
basketball has revealed its extraordinary ability to attract both sexes and draw them into
the related community networks. In turn, the girls’ and women’s increasing participation
solidified J-League basketball as truly community inclusive. Organizers and participants
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view basketball as a sport for everyone in the community – a joint enterprise worthy of
passing along to the next generation: a place for sons and daughters to play.
In this chapter, I will summarize the findings from my research, tying in the
relevant literature and theoretical perspectives and revisiting my research questions. I
will also discuss the implications of my research.

Collective Identity and Enduring Community
The relationship between Japanese Americans and the larger U.S. society is most
affected by two issues: 1) a history of discrimination, exclusion, and incarceration based
on a socially constructed racial/ethnic difference and 2) the persistent racialization of
Asian Americans as small, weak, and feminine as well as foreign and unassimilable.
Within this context, Japanese Americans have been active agents in creating a collective
identity and an enduring community. This project demonstrates that basketball is one of
the key ways that Japanese Americans accomplish this strong feeling of identity and
community. The J-Leagues represent a safe space where Japanese Americans can find a
sense of belonging – both to the Japanese-American community through their family-like
interactions within the practice of basketball and to the larger American community
through a shared admiration of the sport.
In coming together through the sport of basketball, Japanese Americans chose a
perhaps unlikely path, one where girls and boys in the community share a degree of equal
footing. As both girls and boys gained training and exposure to basketball, a unique
atmosphere appears to have evolved. This is an atmosphere where a range of
masculinities and femininities have become congruent with athletic identities. Women’s
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participation in basketball is rarely trivialized – instead their knowledge and skills in the
game are taken for granted. As a sport institution, the J-Leagues represent patterns in
gender relations that feminist sports scholars have found difficult to imagine achieving.
In this sense, there is a lot to learn from what the Japanese Americans have created.

The Three-Level Analysis
This project involved a three-level of analysis, examining the J-Leagues at the
level of structure, cultural symbol, and interaction. Using this model, I have shown that
the empowerment of female players within J-Leagues occurs through a mutually-
reinforcing process: the community-inclusive structure of the J-Leagues provides the
spaces for girls to learn basketball; the top women go on to play at the college level
thereby providing a symbolic resource in support of Japanese-American women’s
basketball; and the community members reinforce the trend by getting their own
daughters involved, talking about the successful female players, and interacting with
fellow Japanese Americans (male and female) with the expectation that nearly everyone
speaks the language of J-League basketball.
Structure. One of the theoretical implications of this study is that a sport
institution such as the J-Leagues can exhibit a high degree of conformity with the gender
order in sport, but also provide a structure conducive to empowering female athletes. The
gender regime of the J-Leagues can be seen as both reproductive and contestant of the
gender order, borrowing symbols and practices from mainstream institutions, but also
creating new and, sometimes counter-hegemonic symbols and practices. Sport
institutions commonly reify gender and racial inequality (Connell 1995; Kian, Vincent,
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and Mondello 2008; Messner 1988), but they also can be vulnerable to contestations that
challenge these inequalities (Hartmann 2003; Messner 1988). This in-depth study of a
local context helps us to better understand some of the social dynamics and processes
involved in the social construction of race and gender.
Japanese Americans originally established their ethnic-exclusive league in line
with the existing segregation of the time. It was a necessity, as Japanese Americans were
often excluded from mainstream recreational sports. Today, the continuation of the J-
Leagues as a Japanese-American-only or Asian-American-only space is still viewed by
many as necessary. The main role of the J-Leagues may be its ability to unite the
community, but it also stands as a buffer to racism and controlling images and provides a
place to play for many Japanese Americans who feel that they would not find as many
playing opportunities elsewhere.
The structure of the J-Leagues as predominantly Japanese American or Asian
American does appear to provide a collective counter-hegemonic resource, as the J-
Leagues provide a safe space with the structures and symbolic resources to counter
discrimination and controlling images. The latent effect is a safe space for girls and
women to play, and to feel a sense of normalcy about their connections to basketball.
This effect reverberated outside of the community: Asian Americans, and especially
Asian American women, who have participated in the J-Leagues, felt that the leagues
gave them the skills and the courage to play basketball in mainstream environments.
Concurrently, however, the J-Leagues also reproduce hegemonic notions of
ethnicity and race. J-League organizers and participants often rationalize group
boundaries by adopting a collective identity based on “shortness,” accentuating perceived
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physical deficits in comparison to African Americans and whites. Thus, the structure of
the J-Leagues as ethnically or racially exclusive also invites collective identity formations
that reify hegemonic notions of race.
Many of the patterns of gender relations in the J-Leagues follow mainstream
gender norms, helping to reproduce the gender order. The division of labor is unequal,
where men hold most of the leadership positions and women engage in most of the
support labor. Most of the play is sex-segregated. These are patterns that emerge in
other youth recreational sports contexts (e.g. Messner 2009), reifying the belief in natural,
categorical differences between the sexes (Kane 1995; Messner 2009) and reproducing
structural inequalities.
On the other hand, the J-League gender regime also confirms the assertion of
Williams (2002) that an abundance of sport opportunity can “agitate” a gender regime
because it represents a greater number of choices for girls and women within the regime.
The patterns that have emerged within the J-League create a progressive opportunity-
structure for girls’ and women’s involvement in sports. The lynchpin of the structure lies
in the beliefs that 1) community participation is important; 2) community participation is
best exercised through participation in sports (the J-Leagues); and 3) active youth
participation by both sexes is the best avenue to facilitate lifelong participation in the J-
Leagues. With these convictions, the J-Leagues instituted patterns (their gender regime)
that are relatively progressive for a sport institution and that have helped to promote
feelings of support and admiration for female co-participants. Trends towards more
women coaches and greater opportunities for coed competition could represent an
“agitation” of the existing division of labor and sex-segregation, indicating that early and
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sustained opportunities for girls in sport paired with encouragement to participate may
produce challenges to gender regimes as boys and girls raised in this environment
become adults that help to organize and lead the J-Leagues.
Cultural Symbol. The unique gender regime in the J-Leagues is sustained by
community cultural symbols, as many of the most dominant “stars” or role models for the
community are women who have gained success playing basketball at the university and
professional level. These local icons become gendered symbols of ethnicity, race and
community and represent, in many ways, a counter-hegemonic representation of
Japanese-American identity.
A review of the literature suggests that we should not be altogether surprised by
the way that the Japanese-American community has embraced its women athletes,
particularly by the Rafu Shimpo. Research suggests that niche ethnic- or race-based
media often pay regular attention to their successful female athletes, seemingly placing
more importance on racial/ethnic pride and solidarity than on reproducing aspects of
hegemonic masculinity (Jamieson 2000; Paraschak 1990; Williams 1987; Yep 2009).
Additional research suggests that there may be more coverage for female athletes when
they represent their country in an international competition, particularly if they are more
successful than men from the same country or can be depicted as embodying something
positive about the values of the nation (Bruce 2003). Japanese-American women fit these
descriptions in multiple ways. They are viewed as more successful than Japanese-
American men and often described as nice girls and ideal citizens, doing well in school
and giving back to the community.
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This study goes beyond content and textual analysis to understand the experiences
of J-League participants in their consumption of their female basketball stars. Although
racial and ethnic affiliation plays a large part in Japanese Americans’ propensity to
follow the progress of Japanese-American athletes, the devotion towards them is also a
product of the tight J-League community. Many interviewees saw the women as
products of the J-League experience; they saw them as teammates, as family.
Thus, just as the inclusive structure of the J-Leagues is sustained primarily
because it aids in community-building, yet concurrently produces an empowering
atmosphere for female athletes, the female icons can also been viewed as a resource for
promoting community cohesion and as empowering role models. Many people in the
community follow the progress of these women and see their success as reaffirming of
the value of the J-Leagues and as positive images of Japanese Americans. As these
women venture into mainstream play, what are the implications of their presence on
major college basketball teams? How might they be challenging controlling images of
Asian-American women?
Interaction. The unique gender regime in the J-Leagues is productive of and
sustained by interactions between J-League participants. When Japanese Americans
meet each other for the first time, it is common to break the ice by asking if they or their
children play basketball and trying to find out if there might be mutual friends or
acquaintances through the basketball networks. This interaction ritual that occurs among
many Japanese Americans is important in reinforcing the idea that just about everyone in
the community plays basketball or is connected to someone who does. The purpose of
these interactions is to establish community ties, but the latent effect is an affirmation of
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the normalcy and acceptability of Japanese Americans playing basketball. Because of the
racialization of Asian Americans as small, feminine, and possessing a culture more
interested in education than sports, these interactions help to disrupt the controlling
images about Asian Americans. Because women still face a marginalized status in
sports, particularly in team sports and physical sports, these interactions also help to
disrupt controlling images of women.
By interviewing players who play basketball or announce a basketball identity in
two contexts, within the Japanese American community and in mainstream environments,
it provides an aid in understanding how “doing” race and gender works in different
contexts and also a way to understand the relative effects that gender regimes have on
gendered/racialized interactions. Looking at the dual contexts using the particular case of
the J-Leagues also points to the power of an intersectional analysis. This data enables us
to see the lived experience of being an Asian American man or woman in the context of
sport. Thus far, data of this nature has been rare and neglectful of multigenerational
experiences (Hanson 2005).
Sport gives salience to bodies and plays a part in symbolically “naturalizing”
beliefs about racial and gender differences (Birrell and Cole 1990; Carrington and
McDonald 2001b). By analyzing the experiences related to me by J-League participants,
one can see an illustration of how race and gender become inscribed on the body and
affect the way that people hold each other accountable for enacting situational identities
based on these power relations. Through these experiences, one can trace some of the
processes in the social construction of gender and race.
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In discussing Serena and Venus Williams, Douglas argues that “portrayals of their
physicality construct impenetrable boundaries between these two black women and their
white female opponents.” The data in chapter four demonstrates that there is a related,
triangulated (Kim 1999) conception of Asian-American (and especially Asian American
women’s) bodies as lacking physicality (instead diminutive or “not the type”), creating a
symbolic boundary between them and the game of basketball (as representative of
physical, contact sports).
The J-Leagues help to contest images of Asian Americans as weak or foreign
because of the connection with the physical, “all-American” game of basketball.
However, participants both react to and reproduce racialization that involves a
triangulation between Americans of Asian, European, and African descent. The
overwhelmingly majority of participants view Asians as smaller than other races and
view competition with whites and African Americans as too challenging for most Asian
Americans. This thought prevails even in the face of many examples of mainstream
success, particularly by Japanese-American women. Although shortness is perceived as a
problem for all J-League participants, it is perceived as more of a problem for men,
possibly alluding to the African-American domination in the upper-levels of men’s
basketball.
As women become the community’s best bet for achieving in the mainstream, this
helps to reinforce the patterns of inclusiveness within the J-Leagues. The women are not
only the most available role model, but they also embody many of the characteristics that
Japanese Americans like to think apply to the group: hard-working, committed to the
community, accomplished. Most Japanese Americans in the J-Leagues seem to feel that
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making an investment in the girls’ basketball programs has paid off, not only in bringing
more families into the community, but in providing many talented and generous women
who have shared their time and energy and status as role models with others in the
community.

Implications: A Place to Play
Nicole: What do you think of all these women that made it to college in
recent years?
Keith: I think it’s great. It’s a testament of what the Japanese Leagues
can do for young girls.

In 1998, the City of Los Angeles was sued for unequal treatment of a Parks and
Recreation girls’ softball league (Baca v. City of Los Angeles). The settlement of the case
required Los Angeles to raise participation rates of girls in their athletic programs
citywide. Although progress was far from perfect, the city was able to raise participation
by lowering program fees for girls and raising awareness (and availability) of teams
(Cooky 2009). Even in an era of ever-growing athletic participation by girls, Los
Angeles, like many urban environments (Sabo 2009), appears to be failing its girls in the
realm of sports. Improvements in participation that occurred after the lawsuit only
confirm that the interest was there, but a range of structural barriers stood in the way.
Despite the improvements, lingering perceptions about the lack of interest in sport among
girls may continue to perpetuate gender inequality within Los Angeles Parks and
Recreation (Cooky 2009). Nationwide, 69% of girls and 75% of boys participate in
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organized sports, but the gaps are much larger in urban areas. Among urban third
through fifth graders, 59% of girls and 80% of boys are involved in sports; among urban
high school students, 59% of girls and 68% of boys are involved in sports (Sabo 2009).
It is in the context of the urban environment of Los Angeles that several J-League
organizations and leagues appear to provide what the Parks and Recreation have not: a
well-organized playing space where girls and women are welcome. Although the kinship
and community shared by Japanese Americans may be difficult to replicate without the
socioeconomic and sociohistorical circumstances that help to make it possible, the J-
Leagues may offer some lessons to how we might envision a sport environment where
gender inclusion is possible.
Aligning community goals with an ethic of inclusion. Most Japanese Americans
share a common history and sense of kinship, as well as insecurities about the future of
the community, that motivate them to make use of the shared interest in basketball
(across generations, among both sexes). This may be a combination of factors that would
be difficult to duplicate from scratch. However, one takeaway for groups that desire
stronger community ties is that these ties can be strengthened by active and inclusive
engagement with sport, in men and women of all ages seeing sports as a joint enterprise
in which they share equal footing.
Getting all ages/generations involved. One important way that Japanese
Americans seem to keep people involved and enthusiastic about passing along the
opportunity to the next generation, is by encouraging all ages to play. Now this may be a
case of what came first, the chicken or the egg, but facilitating early and continued
involvement appears to strengthen attachments to both basketball and the community. In
257
the case of Japanese Americans, basketball helps to bridge generation gaps and
strengthen families. Getting (or keeping) women involved provides role-modeling for
girls and boys in the community. Although sports scholars are often focused on
opportunities in sport for girls at the youth level, it may be equally important to open up
playing opportunities for older women so that girls can envision a future in the sport,
even if just at the recreational level. Getting older women involved, however, requires
having multiple types of playing opportunities.
Offering a wide spectrum of playing opportunities. Since most feminist scholars
agree that there is a never-ending variety of human beings under the label of “woman,” it
seems illogical that anyone would look to one model for attracting girls and women to
sport or for sustaining existing athletic interests. Though far from perfect, the J-Leagues
offer a wide range of playing contexts, including single-sex and coed and spanning
different levels of skill and motivations. This helps to foster engagement with basketball
for a wide spectrum of players with a variety of interests and abilities. For instance, there
are some players in the J-Leagues who engage with basketball purely for the social
benefits and others who do so purely for the competition (and everything in between).
That J-Leagues are able to satisfy both types of players is a testament to their ability to
attract and sustain interest among so many participants. This seems to be an ideal model
for getting girls and women (not to mention boys and men) involved since it does not
exclude certain groups of women or force them to play alongside women with
mismatched abilities or goals.

258
Implications: Women as Role Models
Everyday Role Models and the Next Generations. Although the Japanese
Americans who have become mini-celebrities are undoubtedly having an affect on the
community and its future generations, it is the average women playing that may be
having more of a day-to-day influence. Observing one day at a lower division SCWAU
league game, for example, I noticed a woman playing who had a small child in the
audience. A man (presumably her husband or partner) was caring for the boy, who was
probably about four years old. However, the game was occupying one half of a high
school gym with only one row of bleachers pulled exposed, so it was difficult for the dad
to keep the boy away from his mom. Occasionally, when she was sitting out for a few
minutes on the sideline, the child would end up in her lap. At half time, she came over to
the dad to direct him towards some snacks and toys for the boy. Immediately, her son
started a campaign that went something like this: “I want to wear this,” he whined,
pulling at his mother’s jersey. “My jersey? I need that, Honey. Mommy’s going back
into the game.” He would not relent. “I want it!” The negotiations continued, and after
he was offered a practice jersey from his mom’s bag and promised that he could wear her
jersey after the game, he finally allowed her to rejoin her team. Although this story
points to some of the challenges that young mothers have in returning to adult league
basketball unfettered by their families, I also think it is an example of another important
phenomenon: female athletic role models. This was a small boy having the opportunity
to watch his mother enjoying a center-stage, active role. While he and his father
watched, the mom was the focal point. Moreover, the son’s request for his mother’s
jersey indicates that he admired this role and wanted to emulate it. He may not have fully
259
understood what his mother was participating in (as he did not realize she would need the
jersey for another half), but he must have felt that something important was happening,
and this led to a desire to have a jersey that would make him a part of it.
Other parents spoke about exposing their children to their parents’ (mother’s)
play. Emily spoke of her husband, Logan’s, expectations for their two small children,
Jenny and Erik (about age four and two, respectively):
Even Logan said to me the other day, “You’ve got to get Jenny
[involved].” Because I’m going to start playing in a league this Sunday.
“I really want to get Jenny out there so she gets accustomed to seeing you
play.” So he’s very encouraging of – he thinks that Jenny has to play just
as much as Erik.

Emily had been on hiatus from playing since having her two kids, but was planning to
return to her adult league that week. Her husband was already planning to have their
daughter watch Emily play so as to spark her interest in the game. This example of the
inter-generational transfer of basketball shows how important both age/generational
inclusion and gender inclusion is within this community. Emily’s daughter Jenny, only
four years old, will have the chance to see her mother play basketball in a formalized
league with referees and scorekeepers, and the air of importance that comes with both.
This role modeling was not only important to Emily, but also to her husband who was
actually the one to suggest that it begin soon.
Because so many women in the Japanese American community are involved in
basketball, I was surprised when my survey of the women’s league did not garner any
responses where mothers were described as a dominant influence in basketball.
However, when asked who they looked up to as a player when they were younger, 52%
reported that they looked up to a female player, such as a friend or teammate, a SCWAU
260
players, or Natalie Nakase (a college and professional player). A few also described
playing with their daughters or getting their daughters involved. It may be that it is in the
current and future generations that Japanese-American women will have a more
widespread and dominant affect on the next generations. This story shared by Rachel, a
survey respondent, shows a pattern of how a Sansei came to know basketball and to pass
it along to her son:
My father would take me to all my games. This made him more involved
in my life. He knew all of my teammates and my teammates came to
know him, even opposing teams. He would always sit quietly in the
stands, keeping score, cheering the team on. After the games, I would be
able to look at his scoresheet (a folded up piece of scrap paper) and see
how I did, and how my teammates did. We’d talk about the game in
general and he was always supportive, win or lose, if I played good or
bad. Watching my son play over the years, I would keep score (on a
piece of scrap paper) at games for him. I have come to know all his
teammates, we discuss the games and we have a great relationship.
(Rachel)

A mother of three, Rachel also added this thought: “Kids see their mothers out on the
court playing and see them in a different light, not just a typical old frumpy housewife.
Basketball mom has a different meaning altogether.”

Final Thoughts
When you look at our Japanese American community and our history, it
has been one of creating its own institutions, its own way of doing things.
But then, the question … is, what do you do when the need for that—
well, maybe it doesn’t entirely go away – but it’s no longer a factor …
There were forces from the outside that forced the people back in because
there was no place for them out there … “You can’t play in this league.
261
You can’t use this gym. You can’t participate in this program.” A lot of
those things are gone … That’s why it’s interesting that so many parents
today continue to stick their kids in those youth leagues. It’s choice. It is
not something that they have to do. It’s something that they choose to do,
and it’s so strong that it surprises me. I don’t know what it means. It
intrigues me, though, that they feel so strongly about that. (Mitch)

Just as my interviewee, Mitch, suggests, in many ways the Japanese American
commitment to ethnically-restricted sports leagues is somewhat surprising. Whereas at
one time, Japanese Americans found themselves restricted from many mainstream
environments, today that is not often the case. As Fugita and O’Brien (1991) found,
many Japanese Americans live the bulk of their lives outside of the Japanese-American
community, making close friendships with non-Japanese Americans, and at times
keeping only “weak ties” to their co-ethnics. All of this suggests a high degree of
acceptance and integration, especially for those in later generations. Yet, as this research
project demonstrates, it is unlikely a coincidence that sport has remained one institution
that the community preserves as Japanese (or Asian) only.
As Carrington and McDonald (2001b) argue, biological racism has not, as many
suggest, disappeared from modern race relations. Sport, with its focus on bodies, is a
place where this form of racism is most transparent. Sport is a complex web of
ideologies about race and gender, all of which seem to place the white, male body as the
norm, while other bodies are depicted as possessing deficiencies or special abilities that
require special note and consideration. Within this web, the Asian body and the female
262
body are both symbolically excluded from physical team sports, often leading to actual
exclusion or dissuasion from these sports.
The J-Leagues offer a functional solution to this exclusion, and their popularity
points to the ongoing, persistent racialization of Asian bodies, particularly in the world of
sport. The J-Leagues are able to offer physical spaces where Asian bodies are athletic
bodies; they are the norm. These spaces offer protection from discrimination and provide
opportunities to play that are sometimes not available in mainstream contexts. They also
offer a more symbolic power: their very existence (not to mention the successful athletes
they have produced) confirms the idea that Asian Americans are strong, skilled athletes.
As with Taiko, bringing women into this collective identity appears to work to strengthen
the community (and its image) as a whole. That women can succeed in the mainstream
more often than the men is a “reality” that is embraced, rather than shunned. Seeing
themselves as a collective, Japanese Americans are able to take pride in anyone from the
home team.

263
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275
Appendix A: Interview Guide

(Note: Questions were modified to fit context for non-players)
1. How and why did you get started playing with JA leagues or in JA tournaments?
What were the reasons you or your parents chose the particular team or league
where you started? Did you know any of the other players or their families?
2. Has anyone else in your family played in the J-Leagues? Can you tell me about
their experiences? Did their playing affect your decision to play?
3. Please describe all of the J-League teams you’ve played on and give me an idea of
what tournaments you’ve participated in.
4. Tell me about the time and energy you have put into basketball. What are your
future goals with basketball? (For youth – what’s the highest level of basketball
you hope to achieve?) How important is basketball in your life?
5. Describe what the J-Leagues are like. Describe what JA tournaments are like. Do
they have their own character? What are some of the things that stand out in your
mind when you think of your time as a player? (What do (did) you like about
playing in the leagues? What do (did) you dislike or wish could be (have been)
different?) What makes you participate? What are some of the things you get out
of it?
6. For college players: Tell me about your experiences in college playing basketball.
Tell me about any community responses or support you had from the JA
community. What were some of the ways that you interacted with the JA
community while playing college basketball?
276
7. What sort of messages do you hear or lessons do you learn from your parents,
coaches, and community leaders in relation to basketball within the community?
What do you personally hope to gain through your participation in the basketball
leagues or events?
8. What sort of player fits in best in J-Leagues or JA tournaments?
9. Have you played with a team or league outside of the JA community? If so, what
was that experience like? Can you compare your experiences with J-Leagues
with your experiences in mainstream leagues?
10. Is your Asian ancestry something that is/was ever brought up by anyone in non-
JA basketball situations? Do you think your ancestry made a difference at all in
how you were treated as a player?
11. How do you think non-Asian Americans generally perceive Asian Americans?
Have you ever experienced any sort of stereotyping or had people make
assumptions about you? How about when they find out that you play basketball?
How do people react?
12. Have you ever felt any pressure to play basketball? If so, what are the pressures?
Does anyone look up to you? Do you ever feel like you are representing
something on the court (such as your family, community, race, ethnicity, gender)?
13. Who do you look up to as a player? Do you know of any Japanese American
basketball players who have played college or professional basketball? If so,
what do you think of them? Are there any other athletes you look up to? Any
Asian American athletes?
277
14. Do you pay much attention to JA players in college basketball? What are your
thoughts about having so many successful female players from the community?
15. How do you think female basketball players are generally perceived? (For
girls/women) Have you ever experienced any sort of stereotyping or had people
make assumptions about you as a girl/woman? How about when they find out
that you play basketball? How do people react? (For boys/men) Have you
witnessed any stereotyping or people making assumptions about female athletes?
(For both) Are there any differences within the JA community versus when you’re
outside the community?
16. Do you attend basketball-related events like San-Tai-San or Nikkei Games? What
all do you attend? Tell me about your experiences with these events. What are
they like for you? What do you like about them?
17. For “special guests”: Have you played a special role at any JA community events?
Tell me about your experiences with these events. What are they like for you?
What did you feel like your role was? What were your duties?
18. What other activities do you participate in that have a connection to the JA
community? How does your participation in these activities compare to your
participation in the J-Leagues or JA tournaments?
19. Do you read Rafu Shimpo or have you seen any of their articles? Do you read the
sports page? What have you read about? What have you thought of the sport
coverage?
20. If the J-Leagues or JA tournaments did not exist, what would be missing from
your life?
278
21. What is the connection Japanese Americans in Southern California have with
basketball?
279
Appendix B: Survey

Southern California Women’s Athletic Union (SCWAU) Survey
Dissertation on Basketball in the Japanese American Communities of Southern California
Researcher: Nicole Willms, PhD Candidate
Department of Sociology, University of Southern California

Instructions:
Please feel free to answer as many or as few of the following questions as you are
able. All answers will be kept confidential (see information sheet for details).
You may complete this survey using Microsoft Word and e-mail it as an attachment
to willms@usc.edu. Or, you may print and complete the survey by hand, and mail it
to Nicole Willms c/o Sociology Department, University of Southern California, 3620
Vermont Ave, KAP 352, Los Angeles, CA 90089.

1. Age: _______
2. Occupation: _________________________
3. Ethnicity & Generation: _________________________
4. City of birth: _____________________
5. City of current residence: _______________________
6. Number of years with SCWAU: ________
7. How many teams (SCWAU and otherwise) do you currently play on? ______
8. Have you ever coached basketball (any level/org.)? ____Yes / ____No
9. Roles that you have had within SCWAU (check all that apply):
____Player
____Coach
____Volunteer
____Leadership (Board)
____Other:
10. How old were you when you started playing basketball? _________
11. Who was most influential in getting you to play?

12. Who did you look up to as a player when you were younger? Describe this person.

280

13. Did you ever play for a (check all that apply):
a. High School Basketball Team: ___ Varsity ___ JV
b. Jr./Community College Team: ___ Scholarship ___ Walk-on ___ Intramural
c. 4 yr. College/University Team: ___ Scholarship ___ Walk-on ___ Intramural
d. Professional Team: ___ Pro ___ Semi-Pro ___ International

14. Who else in your family plays basketball? (check all that apply)
____Spouse/Partner
____Mother
____Father
____Grandmother(s)
____Grandfather(s)
____Daughter(s)
____Son(s)
____Sister(s)
____Brother(s)
____Aunt(s)
____Uncles(s)
____Cousin(s)
____Other:

15. What originally led you to join SCWAU? (Please number your top 3)
____Family ties
____Prior friendships
____To make new friends
____Exercise/Health
____My team joined
____My mother played
____My daughter played
____Social life/Fun
____Competition/Challenge
____Love of the game
____Other (please describe any special
circumstances):
16. What motivates you to keep playing with SCWAU? (Please number your top 3)
____Family ties
____Would miss friends
____Would miss team
____Exercise/health
____Social life/Fun
____Waiting to play with my daughter
____Competition/Challenge
____Love of the game
____Other (please describe any special
circumstances):
281
17. I would (or would not) recommend SCWAU to other Japanese American women
because:

18. What makes playing in a Japanese American league attractive in contrast to a
mainstream league such as a city (parks and rec) league?

19. What makes playing in a Japanese American league attractive in contrast to
participating in other Japanese American community activities and organizations?
Or are you equally committed to other JA activities as well?

20. What is the status of women’s basketball in the Japanese American community?
How are women athletes regarded?

21. When you meet a Japanese American, how likely is it that he or she would be
surprised that you play basketball? What is the most common reaction? Describe
any notable experiences.

282
22. When you meet a non-Japanese American, how likely is it that he or she would be
surprised that you play basketball? What is the most common reaction? Describe
any notable experiences.

23. Have you ever played basketball in a non-Japanese American setting? How did
your experience differ? Was your ethnicity something that ever came up? If so,
please describe.

24. Are there (or have there been in the past) any Japanese Americans who play
basketball whom you follow in some way? This could be by attending games,
through newspaper stories, by word-of-mouth, etc. If so, who are they? How do
you follow them? What do you enjoy about following their progress?

25. Is it important to maintain Japanese American-only women’s basketball leagues?
If so, why?

26. Any other thoughts or comments about SCWAU or about basketball within the
Japanese American community in general?

283
Appendix C: List of Interviewees and Survey Respondents

Table 5: List of Interviewees
Roles w/in J-Leagues
# Pseudonym Age Ethnicity GEN PL CO PA OR TO FA V
1 Allison 22 Japanese 3.5 X X X X X X
2 Andrew 58 Chinese 2nd X X X X X X
3 Barbara 47 Japanese 2.5 X X X X X
4 Ben 71 Japanese 2nd X X X X X X
5 Beth 83 Japanese 2nd X X X X X
6 Bill 56 Japanese 3rd X X X
7 Bob 47 Chinese unk X X X X X X X
8 Brandon 27 Japanese 4th X X X X X
9 Cara 19 Japanese 3rd X X X X X
10 Cathy 24 Japanese 4th X X X X X
11 Chelsea 25 Japanese 4th X X X X
12 Chester 54 Japanese unk X X X X X
13 Chris 41 Non-Asian unk X X
14 Colin unk Japanese unk
15 Dan 51 Japanese 3rd X X X X X
16 Danielle unk Japanese 3rd X X X X X
17 Debbie 59 Japanese 3rd X X X X
18 Diane 39 Chinese unk X X X X X X
19 Dustin 62 Japanese 3rd X X X X X X X
20 Elise 20 Japanese + 2nd X
21 Emily 31 Japanese 4th X X X X
22 Ethan 28 Japanese 2nd+ X
23 Frank 67 Japanese 2nd
24 Genevieve 29 Japanese 4th X X X X
25 Grace 30 Japanese 2nd X X X
26 Harris 17 Japanese + 3rd X
27 Isabel 19 Japanese + 4th X X X X X
28 Jack 62 Japanese 3rd X X X X
29 Jake 25 Japanese 4th X X X X X
30 Jennifer 23 Japanese + 4th X X X X X
31 Jessie 23 Japanese 4th X X
32 Jimmy 50 Chinese 2nd X X X X X X X
33 John 51 Chinese 2nd X X X X X X
34 Kaitlyn unk Japanese unk
35 Karen 44 Japanese unk X X X X X X
36 Keith 22 Japanese unk X X X X
37 Kelly 47 Japanese + unk X X X X X X X
38 Kevin 57 Japanese + 2nd X X X X
39 Larry 56 Japanese unk X X X X X X X
40 Laura 31 Japanese 4th X X X X X

KEY:
GEN = Generation PL = Player CO = Coach PA = Parent OR = Organizer
EV/TO = Event or Tournament Participant FA = Fan VO = Volunteer

284
Table 5: Continued
Roles w/in J-Leagues
# Pseudonym Age Ethnicity GE PL CO PA OR TO FA VO
41 Logan 31 Japanese 4th X
42 Madeleine 43 Japanese 3.5 X X X X X
43 Maggie 30 Japanese 4th X
44 Marissa 28 Japanese + 2nd X X X X X
45 Mas 46 Japanese 3rd X X X X X X X
46 Meredith 22 Japanese 4th X X X X X
47 Mitch 55 Japanese 3rd X X
48 Nancy 51 Japanese unk
49 Neal 47 Japanese unk X X X X X
50 Nick 15 Japanese + 4th X X X X
51 Paul 28 Japanese 2nd X X
52 Rebecca 46 Japanese 4th X X X X X X
53 Renee 28 Japanese 3rd X X X X X
54 Richard 56 Japanese 3rd X X X X X X
55 Samuel 16 Japanese + 3rd X
56 Sandra 49 Japanese 3rd X X X X X X X
57 Sarah 22 Japanese 4th X X X X
58 Susan 52 Japanese 3rd X
59 Takahiro 71 Japanese 3rd X X X X
60 Tammy 45 Japanese 2nd X X X X X X X
61 Theresa 47 Japanese 2.5 X X X X X X
62 Tim 31 Japanese 4th X X X
63 Toby 25 Japanese unk X X X
64 Victor unk Chinese unk
65 Walter 50 Chinese 2nd X X X X X X

KEY:
GEN = Generation PL = Player CO = Coach PA = Parent OR = Organizer
EV/TO = Event or Tournament Participant FA = Fan VO = Volunteer

285
Table 6: List of Survey Respondents
Roles w/in SCWAU
# Pseudonym Age Ethnicity Generation Player Coach Volunteer Other
1 Amanda 25 Japanese 4th X X
2 Angela 47 Chinese 2nd X
3 Dawn 51 Japanese 3rd X
4 Heather 50 Japanese 3rd X
5 Jennifer 31 Japanese 4th X X
6 Jessica 29 Japanese/
Chinese
4th X
7 Julie 24 Japanese 4th X X
8 Kelly 32 Japanese 3rd X
9 Kimberly 28 Japanese 2nd X X
10 Lisa 29 Japanese 4th X
11 Mary 49 Japanese 3rd X
12 Melissa 33 Japanese 4th X
13 Michelle 52 Japanese 3rd X X
14 Rachel 49 Japanese 3rd X
15 Shannon 46 Chinese 3rd X
16 Stephanie 21 Japanese/
Mexican
unk X
17 Susan 21 Japanese 2nd X

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Asset Metadata

Creator Willms, Nicole A. (author)

Core Title Japanese-American basketball: constructing gender, ethnicity, and community

School College of Letters, Arts and Sciences

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Sociology

Publication Date 10/01/2010

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Asian Americans,basketball,community,ethnicity,gender,Japanese Americans,OAI-PMH Harvest,race,sport

Place Name California (states), Los Angeles (counties), North America (continents), USA (countries)

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Messner, Michael A. (committee chair), Kurashige, Lon (committee member), Saito, Leland T. (committee member)

Creator Email reignstorm@msn.com,willms@usc.edu

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-m3490

Unique identifier UC168549

Identifier etd-Willms-4118 (filename),usctheses-m40 (legacy collection record id),usctheses-c127-426744 (legacy record id),usctheses-m3490 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-Willms-4118.pdf

Dmrecord 426744

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Willms, Nicole A.

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Repository Name Libraries, University of Southern California

Repository Location Los Angeles, California

Repository Email cisadmin@lib.usc.edu