#95percentmaine

[95percentmaine]

Meet Norman Ng, photographed in Hollis.

Most Mainers would know Norman Ng for two reasons: His father Sonny, owned the Hu Ke Lau, a popular Chinese restaurant in South Portland in the 1960s-1980s, famous for its wacky TV commercials, including one where Sonny delivered food to aliens on an asteroid. Sonny was a pop culture icon, and he would charm diners at his restaurant with his eccentricities. And Norman himself is well known as a world class magician who has traveled across the country, performing in prestigious venues like the Shrine Auditorium, as well as exclusive top-notch venues like Magic Castle. He was featured in Penn and Teller’s “Fool Us” in 2015.

What they may not know about Norman, is that he runs a one-of-a-kind vintage tractor parts company that has grown exponentially since its inception two years ago. Just as he taught himself magic starting at age 8, Norman has learned his own way around an engine.

“I (had) never picked up a wrench,” says Norman, a father of four, who started working on a 1974 Ford tractor for his then-2-year-old son, Lucas. “I picked it up and went for it, and I'm now considered this modern pioneer of antique engines.”

Lucas was born deaf and can hear with the use of cochlear implants. Norman thought that Lucas’ interest in his toy tractors would translate to a vintage garden tractor (much smaller than a modern tractor) that he could actually use. Not only did Lucas love his 4th birthday gift, but it strengthened his language development and gave father and son a common interest. After realizing a niche market for vintage parts, Norman taught himself machining and computer-aided design, and he became a certified master technician. “I don't think of myself as very unique,” says Norman. “I just like learning.”

Norman is a first-generation Chinese immigrant, born in Portland. “I was the only Asian kid in my class, ever, until high school,” says Norman, adding that he didn’t relate to the other Asian students he met at Portland High School, who were mostly new immigrants from Cambodia or Vietnam. (cont. in comments)

“They didn't have the same culture as me. I grew up watching Saturday morning cartoons, and Hanna-Barbera, and Saved by the Bell.”

After high school, Norman moved to the San Francisco area for a couple of years and his magic career took off — at one point he was doing 400 shows a year. Living in an area with a large Asian population, and especially among many other Asians with American upbringings, was a shock at first, he said. When he and his wife, Tonya, who he met in high school, were expecting their first child they moved back to Maine.

“I'm pretty confident I’m the only Chinese person in Hollis, but I kind of like it,” says Norman who has enjoyed the celebrity of being in show business. He’ll get autograph requests while out at the grocery story or approached at community events. “I forget I’m Asian all the time. I actually don't view ethnicity at all.”

One of his main motivations behind starting his tractor business was to spend less time on the road. As a full-time magician, he was spending an average of 300 days on the road. “I started to struggle a little bit balancing, how to be a good performer, good businessman, but also be a good husband and father. For a while I tried to make it work together and then I came to the realization that it’s just not possible.” As the tractor business grows, Norman now considers himself a part-time magician. “Last summer I got to go to every baseball game that my son had. Stuff like that's really cool. I get to tuck them into bed every night.”

[yoonsbyun]

95 Percent: Introducing the Minority to the Majority. Meet Carolin Moreta, Machias. (Part 2)

When I met one-on-one with Carolin, president of the Black Student Union at the University of Maine Machias, she apologized to me. She said she isn't usually as pessimistic as she felt that day.

“I have a strong character, and I like to show my character, and I like to be me. When I'm not able to be me I feel really limited, and I don’t like that,” she said. “I definitely feel very oppressed sometimes, after being here [in Maine].”

Carolin is a first generation immigrant from Lawrence, Massachusetts, born to Dominican parents, who grew up in a neighborhood where everyone was either Dominican, Puerto Rican or black. Her first experience in Maine, at a boarding school, ended abruptly: “I didn’t know it was going to be such a culture shock...I didn't feel smart enough at all. My values were different than other people’s values, I spoke differently, I didn’t understand as much, I just felt inadequate. And it would all build up. And it all built up until the day that I finally was kicked out.”

She came to the University of Maine Machias, motivated and looking for redemption, after being recruited at a college fair. Despite her high G.P.A. and dean’s list status, the lack of students with a similar background to hers started to wear on her. Carolin recounted a few experiences when she felt singled out or othered, once by a police official who visited her class and told her that the state’s drug problem was attributed to out-of-state students, which she felt meant “brown or black people.” He also told her that she could return to Massachusetts if she didn’t like Maine. At the beginning of the academic year, she said she was confused for another student of color who looked nothing like her.

“It’s just a matter of people getting to know other people and feeling comfortable speaking about race, because this place, you know, with the migrant workers with people coming in, I feel like it is getting more diverse,” said Carolin, “The community is recognizing people coming, but I don’t feel like they’re knowing what to do. They’re just staring and assuming.”

At the time of our conversation Carolin said she was planning to transfer to another school, and switch her major from creative writing to urban studies. “I care so much about race awareness and I feel like that's my mission,” said Carolin. "We’re often told, especially here, to not say certain things a certain way, so we don’t make nobody feel uncomfortable, but that's not how it is back at home." Even among other students of color, she feels she has to hold back, because they don't feel as strongly about racial issues on campus. "I want to be around people who are just as passionate as me who are not scared to talk about race."

[95percentmaine]

Meet Carolin Moreta, Machias. (Part 2)

When I met one-on-one with Carolin, president of the Black Student Union at the University of Maine Machias, she apologized to me. She said she isn't usually as pessimistic as she felt that day.

“I have a strong character, and I like to show my character, and I like to be me. When I'm not able to be me I feel really limited, and I don’t like that,” she said. “I definitely feel very oppressed sometimes, after being here [in Maine].”

Carolin is a first generation immigrant from Lawrence, Massachusetts, born to Dominican parents, who grew up in a neighborhood where everyone was either Dominican, Puerto Rican or black. Her first experience in Maine, at a boarding school, ended abruptly: “I didn’t know it was going to be such a culture shock...I didn't feel smart enough at all. My values were different than other people’s values, I spoke differently, I didn’t understand as much, I just felt inadequate. And it would all build up. And it all built up until the day that I finally was kicked out.”

She came to the University of Maine Machias, motivated and looking for redemption, after being recruited at a college fair. Despite her high G.P.A. and dean’s list status, the lack of students with a similar background to hers started to wear on her. Carolin recounted a few experiences when she felt singled out or othered, once by a police official who visited her class and told her that the state’s drug problem was attributed to out-of-state students, which she felt meant “brown or black people.” He also told her that she could return to Massachusetts if she didn’t like Maine. At the beginning of the academic year, she said she was confused for another student of color who looked nothing like her.

“It’s just a matter of people getting to know other people and feeling comfortable speaking about race, because this place, you know, with the migrant workers with people coming in, I feel like it is getting more diverse,” said Carolin, “The community is recognizing people coming, but I don’t feel like they’re knowing what to do. They’re just staring and assuming.”

At the time of our conversation Carolin said she was planning to transfer to another school, and switch her major from creative writing to urban studies. “I care so much about race awareness and I feel like that's my mission,” said Carolin. "We’re often told, especially here, to not say certain things a certain way, so we don’t make nobody feel uncomfortable, but that's not how it is back at home." Even among other students of color, she feels she has to hold back, because they don't feel as strongly about racial issues on campus. "I want to be around people who are just as passionate as me who are not scared to talk about race."

[95percentmaine]

Meet Carolin Moreta and Travonne “Trey” Thompson, Machias.

Carolin and Trey are president and vice president of the Black Student Union at the University of Maine Machias. The group started three years ago when black students felt they needed a support network, and it meets weekly with a university facilitator to plan events and spread awareness on campus. Although both share the commonality of being students of color, their experiences living in rural Maine differ greatly.

“It’s going to sound weird, but I’m from Florida,” said Trey. “I would much rather deal with the people up here, that are white or not, than people from the South. Because up here you’re going to get what you get.”

Trey played basketball in high school in Melbourne, Florida, and competed in AAU. When it came time to choose a college, although he had offers from schools in California, Georgia and Texas, he decided to come to Machias because he knew he would never otherwise live in Maine and he wanted to give it a try.

“I have a high GPA, I’m a Dean's list student — but I don’t know — at first it was good,” Carolin said. “It’s a small school. I was able take on roles that you wouldn't be able to take on in bigger schools. But then it started to catch up: I'm not around people who are like me.”

Carolin was recruited to come to Machias, she said, by the only person of color at a college fair who approached her in Spanish. Despite a rocky experience she had as a student at a boarding school in Maine, she told herself that she needed to come back to Maine and succeed.

I met up with Carolin and Trey in Machias, after Carolin had told me about an incident that happened during a basketball game at Unity College the day after the U.S. presidential election. Trey was on the court. Unity fans often use duck calls to cheer (or jeer) during games.

“I heard something else than a duck, and I was like what is that noise?,” Trey said. Then it struck him: “There's no way. There's no way that's a monkey call. I heard a monkey noise, and...I’m like, that’s a monkey noise. And they’re obviously making them because we’re black.”

Other inappropriate comments were made during the game and Trey had difficulty identifying who was making them. “After finding out it was 7 or 8 people...I was more composed, but in my mind I’m thinking, if this is a big group of people, and at any given moment they want to rush the court and do something to us, we can’t do anything about it.”

After the game, players from Unity apologized for the behavior of some of their fans. A few students also came to the locker room to give the Machias players hugs.

The racist comments by the fans are being addressed through the college judicial system, said Sarah Cunningham, chief student success officer at Unity. She said she couldn’t discuss the details.

“It’s important to us that people do know that doesn’t reflect our values as a community. We take discrimination very seriously,” she said. “I hope the students of Machias know that we didn’t ignore what happened. If any of them are unhappy with our response, we’d love to talk with them.”

After returning to campus Trey admitted that he felt hurt by the experience and did not talk about it with anyone at first. But after he spoke with his coach and the university president, and after conversations between leaders at both institutions, Trey felt supported by his university community. Despite his mother’s wishes that he return to Florida, Trey decided to come back to Machias after the winter break. He wants to finish his degree in Maine.

“I think Maine is an amazing place. I've been to Portland, I’ve been to South China, Maine, I’ve been to Presque Isle — literally every school in Maine — Husson, UMO (University of Maine Orono). I’ve never had a problem here,” Trey said. “If someone, for example, were to come to Maine that night, to that game, and not have experienced anything else outside of that, they would have had that same mindset for the whole time that they’re here. But for me, luckily coming to Machias first, and then going around for the last year not experiencing that, and then coming that one bad time — it kind of, for me, outweighed that one bad time — the good times — to come back to school and play basketball.”

Carolin shared a different perspective on her experience studying in Maine. Read more about her story in the next post.

[95percentmaine]

Meet Geo Soctomah Neptune, Indian Township.

I started this series with a relatively new immigrant to the United States. According to oral tradition dating back to over 12,000 years, the Passamaquoddy Indian tribe has no migration or removal story, meaning that Geo’s ancestors have been in Maine before recorded history. Passamaquoddy people make up one of the four Maine tribes that are part of the Wabanaki, or “People of the Dawnland.”

In Indigenous culture, Geo is a Two-Spirit, someone who embodies the spirit of man and woman inside one person. Geo uses the gender-neutral pronouns “they” and “them.” After graduating from Dartmouth College with a degree in theater, they decided to forgo an acting career to become an educator, doing so on the reservation and at the Abbe Museum. Last year they decided to leave the museum to become a full-time basketmaker. Geo has been making baskets since age 4, and the craft has deep roots in Wabanaki culture. According to Wabanaki history, Glooscap, the first man, shot an arrow into an ash tree. When the tree split, out stepped the first Wabanaki woman and man. Geo said basket makers are considered “miniature creators” because they use the same material that created the Wabanaki, making something that has a piece of their spirit.

Much of our conversation in December revolved around Geo’s efforts to build community and awareness by promoting contemporary Native culture and encouraging indigenous youth to stay in Maine. Geo recounted a few stories about how misinformed Mainers can be about the state’s Native population. During a recent school program, students were shocked to meet Geo: “It was blowing their minds. They were like, ‘But wait a minute, how is there an Indian standing in front of us right now when our teacher said they were all gone?’” Geo says that a lack of education, along with the persistence of old stereotypes - just try Googling images of “Native American” - has resulted in a misunderstanding of indigenous people today. “If you’re not an Indian wearing buckskin and feathers on the horse you're not really an Indian.”

Part of Geo’s mission to change perceptions starts on the reservation. “I’m really focusing on working with tribal youth more and showing them that they can both be an Indian and be someone from 2016.” Part of that education includes peace-building and dialogue about cultural sensitivity, especially when youth move away from the reservation.

Success was often measured by how far you moved away from the “res,” but Geo wants to change that. “I want to be able to be part of a community where you can be successful here and we don't have to leave our community and give up our traditions and completely assimilate to this colonial lifestyle in order to be successful.”

That’s related to another goal: “I want all of the other queer youth of color in Maine to know that they don't have to leave to be happy,” they said. “Just because it's the whitest state in America doesn't mean that people of color aren’t welcome here, especially because it belonged to people of color first.”

[95percentmaine]

Meet Ali Al Mshakheel, photographed in Portland.

Ali’s story seemed appropriate to share first, given the current political climate. He is originally from Iraq, and he and his family came to Maine as refugees in 2014. His three children, including Elian, pictured here, sat with us while we talked. At one point I asked them if they knew how their dad made a living in Iraq. They exchanged pensive looks for a moment and shifted in their seats. One of them finally guessed that he was a businessman. With a smile, he interjected and said that they were unaware that he worked as a journalist. In fact, no one except for his wife knew, given the dangerous nature of the job. Ali worked with the Times of London, ABC News as well as the United Nations, and he shared with me his experiences reporting from a mass grave and the Battle of Baghdad. He shared stories of close calls, including interrogations and kidnappings in his town, random stops by armed men while working on stories, and never being able to travel back home on the same roads. After having children, the risks involved with his profession weighed on him more heavily and he applied for refugee status. “Death falls on the people you love, and you don’t want them to suffer,” he said. “Always in your mind, day and night, you think of them. That they might lose you.”

In his first few months in Portland, Ali spent time learning the streets and buses, and set up his “office” at his neighborhood Starbucks. He used that opportunity to meet strangers and continued to look for ways to network, landing his first job after three months and eventually finding a job within Portland Public Schools. “I came here with an open mind and an open heart.” He mentioned leaving a positive “thumbprint” in the community several times throughout our conversation. “In our minds, we want to give, not only take.”

Today, Ali is a board member with the World Affairs Council of Maine, speaks publicly at local events and universities, and was one of a handful of speakers asked to participate at a Rally for Refugees at the Washington Monument. Next month will mark the three-year anniversary of his family’s arrival in Portland. He told me about a recent return flight to Maine. “When I saw the lights of Portland, I told this to my wife: Home. I feel that I am back home. The same feeling when I was living in Iraq and back to Baghdad. I felt really, really happy to be back home.”

[yoonsbyun]

95 Percent: Introducing the Minority to the Majority. Meet Carolin Moreta and Travonne “Trey” Thompson, Machias. 

Carolin and Trey are president and vice president of the Black Student Union at the University of Maine Machias. The group started three years ago when black students felt they needed a support network, and it meets weekly with a university facilitator to plan events and spread awareness on campus. Although both share the commonality of being students of color, their experiences living in rural Maine differ greatly.

“It’s going to sound weird, but I’m from Florida,” said Trey. “I would much rather deal with the people up here, that are white or not, than people from the South. Because up here you’re going to get what you get.” Trey played basketball in high school in Melbourne, Florida, and competed in AAU. When it came time to choose a college, although he had offers from schools in California, Georgia and Texas, he decided to come to Machias because he knew he would never otherwise live in Maine and he wanted to give it a try.

“I have a high GPA, I’m a Dean's list student — but I don’t know — at first it was good,” Carolin said. “It’s a small school. I was able take on roles that you wouldn't be able to take on in bigger schools. But then it started to catch up: I'm not around people who are like me.” Carolin was recruited to come to Machias, she said, by the only person of color at a college fair who approached her in Spanish. Despite a rocky experience she had as a student at a boarding school in Maine, she told herself that she needed to come back to Maine and succeed.

I met up with Carolin and Trey in Machias, after Carolin had told me about an incident that happened during a basketball game at Unity College the day after the U.S. presidential election. Trey was on the court. Unity fans often use duck calls to cheer (or jeer) during games. “I heard something else than a duck, and I was like what is that noise?,” Trey said. Then it struck him: “There's no way. There's no way that's a monkey call. I heard a monkey noise, and...I’m like, that’s a monkey noise. And they’re obviously making them because we’re black.”

Other inappropriate comments were made during the game and Trey had difficulty identifying who was making them. “After finding out it was 7 or 8 people...I was more composed, but in my mind I’m thinking, if this is a big group of people, and at any given moment they want to rush the court and do something to us, we can’t do anything about it.” After the game, players from Unity apologized for the behavior of some of their fans. A few students also came to the locker room to give the Machias players hugs.

The racist comments by the fans are being addressed through the college judicial system, said Sarah Cunningham, chief student success officer at Unity. She said she couldn’t discuss the details. “It’s important to us that people do know that doesn’t reflect our values as a community. We take discrimination very seriously,” she said. “I hope the students of Machias know that we didn’t ignore what happened. If any of them are unhappy with our response, we’d love to talk with them.”

After returning to campus Trey admitted that he felt hurt by the experience and did not talk about it with anyone at first. But after he spoke with his coach and the university president, and after conversations between leaders at both institutions, Trey felt supported by his university community. Despite his mother’s wishes that he return to Florida, Trey decided to come back to Machias after the winter break. He wants to finish his degree in Maine.

“I think Maine is an amazing place. I've been to Portland, I’ve been to South China, Maine, I’ve been to Presque Isle — literally every school in Maine — Husson, UMO (University of Maine Orono). I’ve never had a problem here,” Trey said. “If someone, for example, were to come to Maine that night, to that game, and not have experienced anything else outside of that, they would have had that same mindset for the whole time that they’re here. But for me, luckily coming to Machias first, and then going around for the last year not experiencing that, and then coming that one bad time — it kind of, for me, outweighed that one bad time — the good times — to come back to school and play basketball.”

[yoonsbyun]

95 Percent: Introducing the Minority to the Majority. Meet Geo Soctomah Neptune, Indian Township. @geoneptune

I started this series with a relatively new immigrant to the United States. According to oral tradition dating back to over 12,000 years, the Passamaquoddy Indian tribe has no migration or removal story, meaning that Geo’s ancestors have been in Maine before recorded history. Passamaquoddy people make up one of the four Maine tribes that are part of the Wabanaki, or “People of the Dawnland.” In Indigenous culture, Geo is a Two-Spirit, someone who embodies the spirit of man and woman inside one person. Geo uses the gender-neutral pronouns “they” and “them.” After graduating from Dartmouth College with a degree in theater, they decided to forgo an acting career to become an educator, doing so on the reservation and at the Abbe Museum. 

Last year they decided to leave the museum to become a full-time basketmaker. Geo has been making baskets since age 4, and the craft has deep roots in Wabanaki culture. According to Wabanaki history, Glooscap, the first man, shot an arrow into an ash tree. When the tree split, out stepped the first Wabanaki woman and man. Geo said basket makers are considered “miniature creators” because they use the same material that created the Wabanaki, making something that has a piece of their spirit. Much of our conversation in December revolved around Geo’s efforts to build community and awareness by promoting contemporary Native culture and encouraging indigenous youth to stay in Maine. Geo recounted a few stories about how misinformed Mainers can be about the state’s Native population. During a recent school program, students were shocked to meet Geo: “It was blowing their minds. They were like, ‘But wait a minute, how is there an Indian standing in front of us right now when our teacher said they were all gone?’” Geo says that a lack of education, along with the persistence of old stereotypes - just try Googling images of “Native American” - has resulted in a misunderstanding of indigenous people today. “If you’re not an Indian wearing buckskin and feathers on the horse you're not really an Indian.”

Part of Geo’s mission to change perceptions starts on the reservation. “I’m really focusing on working with tribal youth more and showing them that they can both be an Indian and be someone from 2016.” Part of that education includes peace-building and dialogue about cultural sensitivity, especially when youth move away from the reservation. 

Success was often measured by how far you moved away from the “res,” but Geo wants to change that. “I want to be able to be part of a community where you can be successful here and we don't have to leave our community and give up our traditions and completely assimilate to this colonial lifestyle in order to be successful.” 

That’s related to another goal: “I want all of the other queer youth of color in Maine to know that they don't have to leave to be happy,” they said. “Just because it's the whitest state in America doesn't mean that people of color aren’t welcome here, especially because it belonged to people of color first.” 

Reach out, or join the project: 95percent@yoonsbyun.com

[yoonsbyun]

95 Percent: Introducing the Minority to the Majority. Meet Ali Al Mshakheel. Ali’s story seemed appropriate to share first, given the current political climate. He is originally from Iraq, and he and his family came to Maine as refugees in 2014. His three children, including Elian, pictured here, sat with us while we talked. At one point I asked them if they knew how their dad made a living in Iraq. They exchanged pensive looks for a moment and shifted in their seats. One of them finally guessed that he was a businessman. With a smile, he interjected and said that they were unaware that he worked as a journalist. In fact, no one except for his wife knew, given the dangerous nature of the job. Ali worked with the Times of London, ABC News as well as the United Nations, and he shared with me his experiences reporting from a mass grave and the Battle of Baghdad. He shared stories of close calls, including interrogations and kidnappings in his town, random stops by armed men while working on stories, and never being able to travel back home on the same roads. After having children, the risks involved with his profession weighed on him more heavily and he applied for refugee status. “Death falls on the people you love, and you don’t want them to suffer,” he said. “Always in your mind, day and night, you think of them. That they might lose you.” In his first few months in Portland, Ali spent time learning the streets and buses, and set up his “office” at his neighborhood Starbucks. He used that opportunity to meet strangers and continued to look for ways to network, landing his first job after three months and eventually finding a job within Portland Public Schools. “I came here with an open mind and an open heart.” He mentioned leaving a positive “thumbprint” in the community several times throughout our conversation. “In our minds, we want to give, not only take.” Today, Ali is a board member with the World Affairs Council of Maine, speaks publicly at local events and universities, and was one of a handful of speakers asked to participate at a Rally for Refugees at the Washington Monument. Next month will mark the three-year anniversary of his family’s arrival in Portland. He told me about a recent return flight to Maine. “When I saw the lights of Portland, I told this to my wife: Home. I feel that I am back home. The same feeling when I was living in Iraq and back to Baghdad. I felt really, really happy to be back home.”

[yoonsbyun]

95 Percent: Introducing the Minority to the Majority. Maine is the whitest state in the nation, according to the 2015 Census estimates. Ninety-five percent of Maine’s population identifies as white. Last year I thought about starting a project on people of color in the state. Who are some of these people who call Maine home, and what’s their story? It has now evolved into an ongoing project to photograph 95 people of color across this vast state to represent not only the diversity of people but the diversity of Maine’s regions. My goal is to help build awareness, empathy and community, in part by sitting down and having a conversation with each person I photograph. Although this began before the U.S. presidential election, today the need to examine the state of race in this country looms large. I’m planning to eventually display the work in free, public spaces throughout the state, a way to introduce the minority to the majority. I hope it starts some dialogue, but I also hope it encourages everyone to get to know their neighbor.