(CW: war crimes/crimes against humanity especially of a sexual nature, imperialist fuckery)

When someone lists aspects and parts of pop culture, music is one of the first answers. We like music because it’s rhythmic, the lyrics can have personal value, and/or it might just make you feel a way you like feeling.

And part of pop culture is what motivates us to like what we like – History, culture, society, and ofcourse, politics. Your family’s relationship with colonialism/imperialism is deeply ingrained into you. You either benefited from the oppression of others, having access to resources to keep you and your progeny healthy. Or your DNA holds generational trauma and your lack of opportunities to be human because you’re not considered human.

What does this have to do with music?

Patriotic music, music which perpetuates the idea that countries should govern (read: dictate) other countries, imposing their ideas, attitudes, and beliefs instead of compromising. Much of this music is simple, easy to learn, and catchy, even children can learn to sing and play along.

Often times, I like to point out I can only imagine what it’s like to be black in America and have to see the Confederate flag and it’s ensuing macro and micro-aggressions. The closest I can get to experiencing it is seeing the Rising Sun flag plastered on car rear windshields, clothes, and as quirky decoration to white people blogs. Still, my family didn’t experience a lot of trauma through generations, just once.

And so I’ve been browsing traditional Slavic and Russian music on youtube to help me focus on homework. I need background noise. No lyrics feels weird and uncanny valley. Anything I recognize will stimulate the language center in my brain, distracting me. I don’t speak a lick of Russian.

Of course, the side bar gives you related items. It was when I was on the Red Army Choir’s Definitive Collection, I’m recommended “One Hour of Imperialist Japanese Military Music.” It’s catchy. I can hum to it.

I can imagine youthful, vigorous Japanese men marching up and down San Quentin’s dirt main street, singing as they point their guns, beat and kill young men, abuse women, and a combination of both on the children. I’m currently around the same age many of them were, I think.

The children of Japan, of course, can sing the very same song in higher pitches and with clumsier instruments. They can also march around their houses and playgrounds, pretending to be the soldiers in my town and the silly Pinoy too weak to defend themselves, dropping to the ground and laughing when they stop pretending to be dead. Their imperialism is stronger than Spanish colonialism, I guess.

Asking (forcing) my great-grandmother to marry the 1/8 Japanese, 1/2 Filipino, and 3/8 South East Asian Japanese soldier who had violently raped her was us selling out. But atleast the rest of the family was untouched and the reason why I got to grow up fat.

I never met him and I’m glad I never will. Hearing stories on how our well ran red and how the smell of gasoline and pollution is no where near as bad as death makes me a little queasy. Dead people on the streets I play in, a rapist previously inhabiting the house I grew up in – it’s like a ghost that haunts me

And of course this is the internet so the comments section is a cesspool. My favorite is the mixed critique of Japan in WWII. They were smart to attack the Philippines and other parts of South East Asia but damn them for attacking America. They were so glad they’re not part Japanese because it would mean the Japanese had invaded their way of life.

I wonder why so much Japanese culture is praised and fetishized in America. They’re the “ideal Asian beauty standard” with their light skin and model minority behavior. But why do I have to be subject to it? I’m only 1.5625% Japanese. Leave me alone.