The people who ask this question are all the same. They think they’re asking because they see themselves as a curious individual. In their head, they’ve already got you pegged for where they think you’re from and it can’t possibly be from America! You’re not Caucasian so that’s just impossible because what year are we even living in? They wait on bated breath for your answer because once you say where, they’ve got the perfect response. Are you ready for it? They can say “hello” in that country’s language. Wow so cultured. They once met someone that is the same ethnicity as you. And they just looooooove the one dish that everyone knows your country is known for. “So do you like, make pho at home also?” “Oh my god, that’s so interesting.”
Meanwhile, I play this tired out scenario in my head. Do I give them what they want or do I challenge them and say that I was born and raised in North Seattle. Why is it that the latter answer is never good enough for them? The other thing that irks me about this question is that it always comes from someone that you don’t care about. They come from small interactions with people you only encounter briefly. Why ask a question that you know will go nowhere? That you don’t realize that I will try and get out of immediately. Obviously the people that ask lack social awareness – that’s not even a question, but why do they all have to be so god damn tacky?
Chriselle Lim said this in a much more polite manner, which is that we know the people who are asking are well-intentioned 95% of the time. Unfortunately for you, our lives have been littered with this question asked by people who were not and because of that we shut off. We’re triggered and we don’t want to answer this anymore. I already have a plan for the next time it’s directed at me which is to pretend that I didn’t hear it. If that makes you feel awkward and uncomfortable, imagine how I feel.
Like many of you, I am still grappling with my feelings and my words on how to describe or even make sense of what happened this past week in Atlanta. I can’t. And it’s going to take me more than a few days to process. What I won’t do is mince words. If the media and the police dept. won’t say it, I will. This was absolutely a hate crime. There is no other way to see it. If you are someone that is publicly saying that 6/8 people killed having been Asian women at three targeted massage parlors is not a hate crime, you are making a racist statement. Ask yourself why you are defending a 21-year old gunman who has done this and what purpose this serves you. How do people begin to defend the gunman? Because he likes pizza, music, and God? And why is calling it a “hate crime” something you cannot acknowledge? Acknowledge human lives.
I’m sure when I’m ready, I will put together something more structurally sound – maybe more grammatically correct. For now, as I continue to gather myself, I want to share out a few pieces that have been written or created by other AAPI people on the aftermath of not only this week, but what we have been facing for the last year.
Every year my high school had a “Career Day” for the senior class, where alumni of years past would come in and talk about their careers. My senior year, I went to the session held by a University of Michigan engineering professor – a Dr. Chen – where he talked about a life in academia. It wasn’t hard for me to see myself in him. He had walked the same halls as me, he had taken the same classes as me, and he looked like me. I had always built my own identity around my love of math and science, but seeing someone so close to me helped affirm my half-baked high school self-image. He gave me a story – his story – to use to shape my own identity.
[Jia Tolentino] puts it more eloquently, describing “identity [as] not something that we innately possess and reveal, but something we understand through narratives provided to us by others.” Identities aren’t these immutable, incorruptible objects waiting to be discovered – but are actually something malleable and something to be interpreted, with external stories guiding our process of doing so. And there are no shortage of external narratives for our identity: parents, religion, and peers all provide their own views on which way our identity can be pulled.
But I contend that the most powerful narratives of all are not the ones right next to us, but rather the ones that are told to the masses – the movies & TV shows, the sports storylines, the news headlines. These histories engrain themself into our social fabric, being retold over and over again. They permeate our conversations, our mindshare, and our screens. They become topics of conversation at work, at school, and online. As a result, they end up playing one of the most significant voices in shaping our identities.
Identities are important because they make it easier or harder for us to carve paths for ourselves. We like to believe that we have full control over what decisions we make – what career paths we take or what roles we step into. But our internal identities [tilt the floor] so that going against our identity takes significantly more effort. It’s not impossible for someone who has built their identity around strong STEM abilities to go into Hollywood as a screenplay writer, but it’s pretty damn hard. Conversely, it’s not impossible for someone who has built an identity as an NFL lineman to become a mathematician, but it’s near impossible (and [news-worthy] when it does happen!). The end result is an entire demographic that moves – in aggregate – to the identities assigned to them by popular narratives.
With this in mind, it’s informative to look at what kind of narratives have been shaping the identities of Asian Americans. What kind of narratives do Asian Americans have to use in shaping and guiding their own identities? What did I have in guiding my own identity growing up?
It’s not hard to see where Asian Americans fit into the popular landscape. They were the perpetual side character, where their ethnicity served as the butt of a joke (as in [The Big Short], [Pineapple Express,] [The Hangover]) or as a stereotypical “[Mathlete]” or a [quirky backstory-filler]. Outside of cinema, there were almost no Asian professional athlete superstars in the 2000s (save for [one] or [two]). Looking at politics or the broader news cycle showed an even more barren landscape. And all the previous examples were limited to Asian American men. The comedic, quirky, non-masculine persona displayed in American media assigned a very specific narrative to Asian American men – told over and over again and ingrained into the Asian American male identity. But there was a narrative for Asian American women too – they were [literal geishas] or [hypersexual lawyers]. Always eschewed from the limelight and assigned a narrow narrative, Asian American men and women had a shocking lack of direct narratives to draw from in both the real world and fiction.
As a result, Asian Americans (and other minorities) can only relate with general narratives in an incredibly asymmetric way. I could see myself in a Ted Mosby or Jim Halpert, piecing together parts of their stories into my identity, but the Teds and Jims of the world would certainly be hard pressed to ever see themselves in me. I had to be selective in how I could relate to them, because they weren’t like me, it was just that parts of them resonated with me. To find narratives without this asymmetry, I had to look to the side characters who were quietly carving out a life outside of the limelight.
With a dearth of Asians in the traditional American social fabric, it shouldn’t be surprising then to observe other forms of media and entertainment fill the void. The Korean Wave (with k-pop & k-dramas), Japanese culture (with anime), and esports (with League of Legends and Dota) are but three forms that have taken advantage of the internet to reach a population of narrative-starved Asian Americans. They provide the stories that Asian Americans can fully embrace where traditional American media failed them. They provided examples of people who look just like them being [romantic leads], [superstars], [villains], [MVPs], and even [superheroes]. These forms of media allowed Asian Americans to explore a much more holistic set of narratives – ones in which they were the main characters (who were actually cool!) and through which they could develop an identity of their own.
Before this year, I didn’t know that May was Asian and Pacific Islander American Heritage month. While it has been a slow journey for me to become more acquainted with my culture and history, I know now I can appreciate this much more at my age. I think some of this has to do with the environment I grew up in and not having that kind of community until after graduating college and starting my career. Without even knowing how special this month was, we got into Korean drama all on our own and started to read and watch pieces that were all tied to the celebration of this month. By no means do I think that means I’ve done all the work that there is, but I’m excited to continue educating myself. I’ve really been enjoying this and have shared a majority of them here with you all!
Studio Ghibli Producer is Giving Free Drawing Lessons Online [High Snobiety]
Trump’s Refusal to cover up actually reveals his greatest fears [The Cut]