This is to a much lesser extent than the Chinese Professor ad, but both advertisements appeal to the natural instinct towards sinophobia to communicate a point that is unrelated to the Chinese. For CAGW, the message was, “If we don’t get our act together, America could lose to other threats… like China” and for this ad, the message is, “Our military invasion in other lands is offensive to natives and not what the people want… just imagine if China was on our land.” The advertisement also mentions Russia, appealing to the Soviet-era fearmongering. In cases like this, the comments are often split as to whether using China as the “other” is racist or not. The fact is, there is a very unclear distinction in whether comments like these are “racist” or not. That is where the realm of microaggressions lie.

In this advertisement, there is a heavy presupposition of international relations that goes into choosing China for the “What if” question. For the advertisement to be effective, it has to be a country whose potential is daunting to Americans and represents a possible, real challenge. That happens to be China, whose economic power, military number, and unclear political objectives are all areas that makes American foreign policy a little nervous. From a policy perspective, that’s reasonable and probably inevitable in order for this ad to be as effective as it was.

But think a little deeper: why do we fear those other countries? Within America, why do we fear those of another origin? It is the underlying xenophobia and occasional isolationist tendencies that flare up in times of economic and political crisis that motivates countries’ foreign policy to retreat further into its shell, to build legal or physical walls to keep out immigrants, to discourage a cosmopolitan population in order to keep out those with different origins or practices. That is, the fact that an advertisement like this is designed to send chills up its viewers’ spines means that it is already reaching an audience that shudders at the thought of having foreigners (with military power) in their midst. [This is a uniquely American privilege, because in so many other countries, that is exactly the situation.]

The appeal to the audience’s intrinsic fear of foreigners, especially the Chinese, is a microaggression. Though not overtly intended to appeal against racism towards Chinese, it still draws on fears pertaining to the Chinese – their particular political situation, military potential, economic potential, etc – to homogenize the entire country and its government as one “other” to fear. That behavior, which may be necessary at times from America’s foreign policy perspective, unfortunately reinforces these views in the people and projects itself at a local level to innocent people who have nothing to do with foreign policy: the six-year old Chinese boy going into first grade, only to meet a hostile room full of classmates whose parents have internalized the Chinese threat and express it, either overtly or covertly, in their daily lives. I’m not saying that this is completely unfounded and totally racist. The “microaggression” in this is quite oblique in comparison to so much of the media that’s out there (um, see Alexandra Wallace) and most of the video is not spent dwelling on the “Chinese threat.” But as a country that is exempt from the military occupation that is described in the video, I expect a higher standard on par with the greater privileges this country is afforded.

Ever since I did APALI, I’ve liked talking and thinking about APA issues. Even though by now, I’ve addressed some of these issues over and over again, and even blogged about them, they’re still a subject of interest to me. Admittedly, it is sometimes tiring to bring up the same subjects over and over again, especially because all this talk of identity construction never seems to really DO anything. Maybe I’ve gotten a little farther in “constructing my identity”, but by large I sometimes wonder if the exercise is somewhat akin to intellectual masturbation. However, misgivings aside, I’ve always appreciated being able to talk about these points in discussion because I have never ceased to be amazed by the variety in viewpoints the students at Penn have. Applying that to something I can influence, which is APAHW, I was really excited to try to roll out an essay contest/scholarship that could potentially draw submissions for people who may have thought about identity or been vaguely interested in it, but never had the time or reason to flesh out an idea in its entirety. As far as contests go, it’s far from being successful. We’ve only marketed to a few random sources, and we don’t have that many submissions. But for the first time today, I sat down and read some of those few submissions that I did have, and I started bawling.

Reading candid, honest, anonymous submissions has been the most rewarding part of APAHW, and honestly, of anything I’ve given my time towards in college. Being able to see people use an avenue I designed to express themselves makes me feel like I was able to contribute to something, even if the only tangible impact was upon a few kids who took an hour or so to write a quick one page essay. Their stories humbled me again and again, reminding me that though I’ve even come to question the purpose to thinking of issues of APA identity, I am far from having heard the multitudes of voices and perspectives that exist on campus, and in the world. I will never get a chance to hear all those stories; it’s simply impossible. But being able to get the chance to hear just one more has been completely and utterly worth it.

“Most Americans are not familiar with the Exclusion Act — which wasn’t repealed until 1943 — and the extraordinary levels of discrimination against Asian Americans.”

The news of the proposed legislation to express regret for the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act popped up on my radar, probably because a ton of my friends are interested in these topics, so I did a little poking around to see what it was about. I had a hard time finding any American news sources that were covering it; ironically, the most common sources were things like Xinhua, CCTV News (China), CRIEnglish.com (Chinese), Bangkok Post, Angry Asian Man, Sino Daily, etc — clearly from the Asian side — though it was in AFP, Chicago Times, and a few Californian news sources, though I had an easier time turning up California’s own resolutions to apologize for the exclusion laws. In short, I was a little surprised at the lack of coverage for the resolution. It feels like the resolution was slipped in without much fanfare, and from the wording of the AFP article, it’s clearly a nod to election politics and getting AA votes. Hearing about this resolution makes me glad in a way that it’s coming up, but I’m surprised at the few comments that I am seeing on this topic. Many people wonder what the point of it is — “it’s water under the bridge.” Maybe this is a topic that will pick up more momentum as the resolution is discussed, but the handling of it seems so strange to me.

Whenever I saw these types of resolutions apologizing for history or affirming it, I used to wonder what the point was. I remember not understanding why governments would issue things like an affirmation of the Armenian Genocide, since it seemed obvious that it happened, but after doing more reading, I realized that the politics around the issue made the perception of the event different to different sides. (Just think about all the media attention when Ahmadinejad denied the Holocaust.) Especially when it’s a situation where the perpetrators or their ancestors may diminish the magnitude of the event, I can understand why people will get so upset when history is construed in different ways. Wars will happen and alliances will shift, but their ancestors have to go about the aftermath gracefully and rationally in order to keep up a functioning international arena. I’ve read that in Germany, generations who have never witnessed the Holocaust are taught to treat the issue with sensitivity, without any denial of the crimes that happened. While I wouldn’t call it a “sense of guilt” exactly, there is no blame shifting or belittlement of the atrocities that happened during the wars. (Can’t cite that off the top of my head, so I can’t verify that it’s true or not — I think I heard that from a conversation with my German teacher.)

Rep. Chu argued “that a statement of regret was more appropriate for a congressional decision more than a century ago, saying: ‘You can only apologize for what you did yourself.’” This kind of apology makes more sense in the context of the 1988 apology for WW2 Japanese internees after much lobbying by Japanese Americans. The resolution is still remembered by Japanese Americans today (article is about the 20th anniversary of the resolution). Considering that this Chinese Exclusion Act was in 1882, I see where most of the surprise about this bill comes from. It was in 1882, and though the documentation and imagery and wording of the resolution were horrifically racist and untrue, so were most publications about minorities at the time. Though this has undoubtedly been lobbied for years, I bet people are wondering, “Why now?” or “Why bother?”

But, what I am most surprised about is why so few people care. This is a formal governmental apology for a purposeful and concentrated racial exclusion that affected the lives of thousands, and left a stain on the way Chinese American immigrants were perceived for years. For Chinese immigrants at the time, the act felt like an ultimate betrayal. After immigrating like all other groups in search of better economic opportunities, working on railroads and other menial labor, the exclusion act broke up families and left the Chinese remaining in America basically out to dry. Political sentiment against these convenient workers had clearly turned sour, and the exclusion act wasn’t repealed until 1943, 61 years later, and only done so for wartime convenience. Immigration restrictions to non-Europeans were only fully removed in 1965.

My problem with the act, since I can claim zero effect of that exclusion act personally on me or my ancestors, is in the attitudes toward Chinese Americans it perpetrated. The act set the tone for over a century of policies that seemed to fluctuate based on the political convenience of the country at the time. When times were good and the economy could use extra labor, the Chinese were welcomed. When times were bad and they continued to persevere, they were reviled for taking up space and precious resources that could not be afforded to waste. When homeland politics made China the enemy, the Chinese in America were seditious and put under constant surveillance. When China was an ally, public sentiment would once again do backflips, issuing statements advising “How to Tell Your Friends from the Japs” (December 22, 1941 issue of Time). Even now, fears of the “wakening dragon” or whatever has sent politicians in a dither about China’s economic threat. Much of the changes in environment happen to all immigrants, and for the Chinese, not all of it can be attributed to the exclusion act. But considering the limitations on restriction, citizenship laws, miscegenation laws, and general racist climate at the time, the 83 years of immigration restrictions could not have helped this environment.

Asian American minorities have always had a puzzling place in America, unable to fit into a “black or white” discourse and in a doubly complicated situation by their implications in homeland politics. I’m glad to see a resolution that will offer at least some official stance on a matter that has mostly been ignored by politics, politicians, and history. I’m a little worried that unless there is more visibility on this, even a resolution expressing regret for its actions will go largely missed except by people who felt affected by it — and I’m talking about the same news sources that are publishing news about the topic. It’s been too long for anyone who was affected very directly to have their wounds salved by such a resolution, and though people interested in the matter may hear about it from these focused channels, I think the resolution loses its full effect. Ideally, if this were to be passed, this could be a positive step in changing the schizophrenic attitudes towards Chinese immigrants that dampens the ability to feel like true Americans. I can only keep following what’s going on with the news, though I doubt anyone would be too opposed — how do you reject a proposal to express regret for history without seriously pissing people off?

I’m trying to put together a coherent proposal for a Fulbright in either China, Hongkong, or Taiwan, and I’m kind of at a loss at what to do. I want to focus on China’s design industry, and since I have a business background, I figured industry analysis made the most sense. But, whenever I try to come up with an idea, I’m bombarded by articles left and right and have no idea where I want to focus on. China’s design industry is growing very quickly, though most references are about industrial design. Still, I’m blown sideways when I see things like Eddi Yip’s adFuncture, a vinyl toy collective, along with his blog about China’s hip street culture. PingMag (now on hiatus) also covered graphic design in China, but I got side-tracked by their posts on Japanese graffiti. I guess, I’m kind of torn between wanting to learn more about this design + street culture sphere, while also wanting to do some of the designing. More than anything, I started fearing what I would do if I actually got this award. I want this so desperately, but if I got this project, I would be on my own, in another country where my writing skills are almost nil and my reading/speaking skills are backsliding day by day, probably in a city without any relatives or friends, and I’d just have to start contacting people and… explore things. That sounds crazy and ridiculous. I dunno what to do. Eh. This entry made no sense, the bottom line is, I want to travel and learn more about these incredibly cool cities but I have no idea what I would actually do when I get there.

Justin Chon x Soompi Interview, Talks Twilight, K-Pop, Advice, & More!

I feel like there’s been a lot of news lately regarding race relations and the role of minorities on campus, from APSC’s UC seat rejection to Christopher Abreu’s guest column. I know many of these topics are contentious, and as responsible students we should consider all sides carefully. But I am grateful for one thing — the overwhelming response to the column is actually eliciting a response from students. I’ve seen a lot of criticism and oversimplification for his column (and if the DP is monetizing their traffic they are probably having a field day), but I wonder if it took something like that to get students to engage in these discussions. From the comments, it seems that there is a pretty hefty population who would prefer to ignore these issues and sweep it under the rug. That only silences and pents up the hurting voices, who can only go on without knowing that there is support. So I spent some time thinking, what is the least I can do? I feel very fortunate that my experience at Penn has been largely positive. But I decided the least I can do is get angry. I’m not pointing fingers, I’m not criticizing the establishment, and I’m definitely not getting angry at any single person or phenomenon. Racism and any sort of sociocultural barrier is steeped in so many complicated factors that I can’t responsibly blame anyone. But I think I can at least not stand for it. I’m going to get angry; I’m not going to sit by idly. Apathy is widely regarded as the curse of our generation. We may move forward economically or technologically, but until we remember what it is like to have empathy for our peers, I don’t know how far this generation will go culturally and socially. So let’s calmly get angry, face the problem, and then move on…

My curiosity, then, arises in terms of how the CCP would perceive of this great show. Here, the imperial Fire Nation is ruled by a ruthless emperor, Zuko even has his hair shaved in a pseudo Qing braid (ponytail instead). At the same time, the types of naval warfare, armor styling, and some names seem to have elements of imperialistic Japan as well. I wonder if they’d perceive the Air Nomad genocide as a implicit jab against their aggressive Tibetan policies. Given that the Chinese were quick to ban James Cameron’s Avatar in the theaters, it makes me wonder whether they would quickly ban this as well.

On the other hand, I also think it’s interesting that this Western-created series fantasizes the nomadic, spiritual monk life, given that into the 20th and 21st century, Tibet is one of the places (along with Shangri-La, I guess) that remains romanticized and orientalized, especially by Hollywood. I’ve often been impressed by some of the plot twists and developments in this show, but at the very heart of it, so much of the foundation is based in actual history. (Ba Sing Se’s tiered cities, systematic destruction of religions, etc.) This type of inspiration is spectacular, and makes me appreciate the show’s interpretation more. But then again, I’m not hard to please. Steampunk-ify anything based in historical fiction, throw in an angsty, honorable bad guy gone good, and I’m sold.

I recently stumbled upon Thick Dumpling Skin, a blog started by Lynn Chen, an actress who also runs The Actor’s Diet. The blog centers around Asian American body image issues and eating disorders, which is such an important topic that doesn’t get as much attention as I think it deserves. I definitely grew up with pressure from my family (especially extended family), random old ladies in China, media, and even more closer to home, my friends. There is a sense that all Asian girls are 5’1″ and barely over 100 lbs, and the almost excessive obsession with Asian models (especially kpop stars) is very obscuring to girls who want to feel healthy and beautiful but aren’t Size 0.

Much like Asian Americans sometimes find themselves held to two standards (double standards, even), Asian girls face two times the pressure to be small and petite, while also being curvy and sexy in the more traditional American sense. That’s just not possible. Fat deposits don’t work that way. I know of a couple girls who have spoken to me that they would be interested in getting breast implants, or are constantly lamenting their lack of curves. Guys and girls alike look towards role models like SNSD as beautiful women, when they are a group of performers who were chosen not only for their talent, but also their phenotypical qualities.

For the purposes of group cohesion and marketing, even their leg/torso proportions match up. To perform and present themselves well is their profession, and they are put under incredible pressure to maintain their physical shape. Now, I’m not hatin’ on SNSD (they’re talented and cute!) and apparently their trainer has them on a healthy 1,500 calorie diet. But I’ve also seen a lot of ridiculous diets come out of this media culture that involves eating next to nothing.

From my personal standpoint, I’ve felt like there is much less acceptance to body type variation. My friends were always thin and small, and I was the one person with a huge, lumbering metabolism. Most if it is genetics, it’s really hard to do that much. I would eat 1000 calories or less a day, no meat, never drink soda or alcohol, never eat after 8pm, run 3 miles every day, and still, my roommate will sometimes even lose weight on a diet of pizza, late night McDonalds, alcohol, and candy. I don’t know how ethnicities play into health, but I’m guessing by some genetics, many Asian girls can stay slim without trying at all. But for everyone else, it is a constant uphill struggle, made even more difficult by societal pressure.s

So, I’m really happy to see Lynn Chen’s blog. I enjoyed her food blog as well, but the Thick Dumpling Skin blog calls some much needed attention to an issue that is rarely brought up. Not all Asian girls have to deal with this problem. The ones that do, whether it is an imagined problem or not, find it difficult to speak up. I’m glad we have a place to do so now.

P.S. I had never heard of her movie, Saving Face before — I’m going to check it out! Looks interesting, and explores LGBT/generational issues as well. Pretty cool.

Now that it’s winter break, I’ve gotten a chance to finally read “Asian American Dreams” by Helen Zia, a book given to me during my participation in Penn’s APALI (Asian Pacific American Leadership Initiative) program. I’m sure there are a lot of great, comprehensive reviews out there, so I just wanted to relay my impressions of the book.

First of all, Ms. Zia is an amazing woman. She spoke at Penn’s East Coast Asian American Student Union (ECAASU) conference last year (March 2010), and it was not the first conference she’s spoken at. Unfortunately, due to a combination of changing times and changing political attitude, I’m sure her speech left a slightly different impact than what she would have experienced ten or even five years ago. To people familiar with the community’s issues, she stops as nothing short of inspirational. Having dropped out of med school to become a community organizer, and having spent time in journalism, construction, factory work, and a variety of legal battles, she’s clearly dedicated her life to fighting for rights most of my college age peers probably don’t realize have been fought for.

I said “unfortunately” earlier, because I think the magnitude of her words may be beginning to lose its impact on people who don’t realize the full historical context of Asian American rights. One of my Asian American friends, a Chinese American born in a mostly rural small town in western Pennsylvania, was flat out terrified by her fervor. Having largely grown up around Caucasian Americans and only recently making Asian American acquaintances, he found her far too overbearing and criticized her for shaking up the accepted peacefulness of his life. The situation is, by blending in, playing along with the few stereotypical Asian jokes, and generally making light of the situation, there have not been enough tensions in his life to warrant standing up and fighting against the system. Due to the work of previous Asian American rights activists, we are in an environment where we can get by and even live great lives, as long as we don’t disturb the system too much. We’ve actually been afforded a lot of rights and opportunities in a relatively short amount of time. So he wonders why Ms. Zia is continuing to fight and rile people up, when we can just keep our heads down and be American like immigrants are supposed to be.

So that’s the context of the college-aged reader today: where do we stand in the “Asian American activism” spectrum? And it’s with those thoughts that I started reading the book.

Coverage: Rather than being a comprehensive introduction to all Asian American history ever, or even going very far in depth with the kinds of issues Asian Americans face, Ms. Zia’s book instead focuses on the history of the activist movement. In this way, she does a good job of pulling in personal narratives, historical contexts, prevailing social attitudes, urban studies and demography, legal and constitutional battles, and “homeland politics” together to illustrate a few case studies of more dramatic points in Asian American activism. The cases she focuses heavily on are early immigrant rights and restrictions leading up to the Chinese Exclusion Act, Japanese internment, the rights of Alaskan cannery workers (especially Filipino), sexual identity and ethnic identity, model minority myth and the negative impacts on economically disadvantaged Asian Americans (esp. Hmong, Cambodian, and Vietnamese refugees), a lot of Afro-Korean relations (centered around grocery stores), the dichotomy/wealth gap in South Asian immigrants, and also the possibility of a pan-Asian support system (via Vincent Chin and other instances). She covers a broad variety of topics, though she devotes two chapters to the Afro-Korean grocer situation, both in NY and LA.

Presentation: The presentation of each case was similar: the underlying reasons for the conflict were presented, the stakeholders were introduced, and in each case, the APAs lost some battles but won the war, or vice versa, in which at least they left behind a new generation of activists. The chapters tended to end on an encouraging note, but it’s hard not to get disappointed from reading about the multiple frustrations and restrictions in “working with the system.” Any frustrations I had were really frustrations with history. Seeing the compilation of lost battles for equal rights was disheartening, though after the fact, it evokes a lot of appreciation for the rights we are afforded now. Any event in history, told from the perspective of the losers, is presented this way. A lot of lives and livelihoods were lost in pursuit of equality, but at least, they left behind inspiration for future generations.

Takeaways: The problem is, this message falls upon a generation that probably won’t pick up the call to “activism’ as readily. In a lot of ways, that’s really not a problem. Society adapts with the necessities of the era, though usually a generation late. (We’re like antibiotics to a virus — by the time the cure is ready, the strain has evolved. Not to compare anybody to a virus or anything, I’m just saying reacting takes time, like a generation.) In a few more generations, I’m fairly confident that a lot of the problems addressed in this book will be just history, and not an ongoing struggle like some of the chapters alluded to. So, this book wasn’t as fulfilling as I hoped it would be. It gave me a really comprehensive, detailed, and in many ways, inspiring history of the Asian American activist movement, but a book that would mean more at this present time is one that addresses the issues we face going forward. There are a lot of topics mentioned that I think merit further exploration: model minority myth (read: affirmative action), homeland politics (read: the ever wavering relations with Asian countries), language barriers, high-tech/low-tech immigrants, and more. I also would have liked to hear more suggestions on how she can realistically see this change being implemented. Rather than just issuing a blanket call to action and activism, the path forward is often one of compromises, trading one right for another depending on the political situation at hand. So, because this book isn’t as forward-looking as I hoped, it wasn’t exactly the panacea I imagined it would be for all Asian American issues, ever. However, as a vital primer in APA history and activism, it’s definitely a worthwhile read. It will probably have the most impact on people who already care about the community issues, and for people who are faintly aware and would love to learn more.