Race, media & culture
Thoughts/Questions on Asian-American Media Representation & Artistic Activism
The economy of narratives & an uncertain future
Recently I was talking to a friend who referred to the state of things as “post-Crazy Rich Asians”. To call that claim over-optimistic is a bit of an understatement; it really wasn’t too long ago when Mickey Rooney put on the buck teeth and squinty eyes to yell at Audrey Hepburn in a broken accent (in a movie still widely regarded as a classic and screened in theaters every now and then, by the way).
My friend believed that a monumentally successful film like Crazy Rich Asians will open the door for future Asian creatives. It’s the beginning of the “new normal” as he put it, meaning that films starring Asian actors would no longer be seen as major cultural phenomena but as perfectly standard industry products. No more stereotypical depictions of Asians by non-Asians? “That’s the dream.”
And by “dream” I mean a fairly over-simplistic prospective evaluation of American media systems. Things unfortunately don’t work out that easily, and that goes beyond Hollywood. My sarcastic and cynical tone aside, it was a good conversation that got me rethinking about the progress of Asians representing themselves in American art and media compared to 5/10/20 years ago. I think Asian-Americans are at a definitive turning point as to what stories and art will be produced, shared, and deemed successful. The way I perceive things right now, the issue of Asian-American media visibility has informally split API artists into two sides of artistic activism.
On one side you have Asian creatives producing works to directly combat the lack of Asian-Americans on-screen, on-stage, or in the creative space (I’ll refer to this as the “1st side” for convenience’s sake). Reflecting on cultural self-struggle and proudly reclaiming your identity are common themes with this side. A lot of it revolves around navigating the political-economic reality of our present-day American society, that is a capitalist system in which mass media is dictated by cigar-puffin’ studio execs and such. Vietnamese-American author Viet Thanh Nguyen used terms in his New York Times op-ed (below) I will borrow that illustrate this well, and while I don’t think he or his work fully belong to this side he certainly advocates for its end goal.
The end goal here seems to be reclaiming and taking control of the narratives being told so that ultimately an Asian artist can occupy space in media without being tied to an “economy of narrative scarcity”. For example, the cigar-puffin’ studio execs would no longer see an Asian actor as a risk but as a perfectly reliable asset as with any established, bankable (usually white) Hollywood star. Hell, maybe Asians will become those studio execs and start calling the shots from the top of the economy of narratives. Maybe they’ll also become record label execs or chart-topping musicians and so on, leading to the promotion of more API artists.
By reaching an “economy of narrative plenitude”, Asian-American artists will no longer be burdened by the underlying pressure to adequately represent their culture while avoiding commercial or critical failure. They and their art would be allowed to exist free from the limiting stereotypes and misconceptions of their ethnicity. In film, this would translate to “colorblind casting”. This side of representation activism is common with API Instagram influencers. I’d also place Crazy Rich Asians and everything produced by 88rising on this side.
The other side of representation activism takes a far more political stance on the state of things (the “2nd side”, again for convenience). Dissatisfied with just pushing for an increased presence in mainstream media, this group calls for API creatives to use their voices to challenge the preexisting, unjust political-economic system. Vietnamese-American photographer Bao Ngo conveyed this sentiment best on Twitter (below).
This side, depending on the individual advocate, is mildly to radically anti-capitalist with its calls for socio-economic reform. It also takes into account certain cross-cultural issues, such as how Asian-Americans repeatedly align themselves with the interests of white people at the expense of non-East Asians and other POC (especially black people).
Those in the 2nd side argue that narratives of cultural self-struggle & advocacy for mainstream media representation only constitute a white-centric & neoliberal version of activism. API artists should be using their stories of otherness as a catalyst for structural changes instead of mainly for social or cultural capital (another way of saying “fame”). It’s not enough to just address the “economy of narrative scarcity” by filling it with more narratives; API artists should be attacking the economy and fighting to replace it with a system that is more equitable for all marginalized communities.
Examples belonging to this side are naturally harder to come by since it is a more politicized and less mainstream movement. A good example is collectives like Angry Asian Girls (below), who regularly hold art-centered events that support intersectionality and shine a light on societal issues such as immigration reform.
I’m not trying to criticize any specific person’s activism (for now) since I don’t know exactly where I stand at the moment. More times than not I agree with the 2nd side, but I also passively allow myself to reap the benefits of capitalism while thoroughly enjoying products from the 1st. That’s not to say there isn’t a middle ground between the two. Nevertheless, I think there is some valid criticism the 2nd side holds towards the 1st (some corners of Twitter call those in the 1st side “boba liberals” which I think is funny and kind of on point; below). You’ll never see 88rising share a message supporting Black Lives Matter even though their sound & image is completely indebted to US hip-hop culture pioneered by black artists. It makes sense that Warner Bros chose to acquire a rom-com centered around aristocrats as the first majorly distributed Asian-American film in years and not a more grounded story (anyone remember The Joy Luck Club?). It’s true that most times the term “Asian-American” is used in a context that excludes non-East Asians. There’s also the whole problem of Asian-Americans appropriating blackness as counterculture, but that can fill an entire other essay that has already been written (see “Read more” at the bottom).
If you are an Asian-American artist, whether or not you agree or identify with one side more strongly than the other we are presented with several questions. I use the word “art” in the loose sense here (visual, musical, performing, cinematic, etc.) and obviously exclude “design”, the latter of which is meant to function not to provoke emotions. To name a few questions off the top of my head:
- What is our ultimate goal with our art?
- What does the final form of representing Asian-American voices look like to you? Does it end at “more famous Asians”?
- What stories would you like to see told/do you want to tell about Asians and Asian-Americans?
- Is it unfair or unreasonable to expect all API artistic voices to be actively in dialogue with the sociopolitical landscape? Would that be discounting artists’ agency? Is all our work inherently political as minority artists?
- Good intentions vs actual impact: how can we make sure not to conflate the two with artistic activism?
- The bubble for Asian-American artists is very real in that we seldom reach out to other POC as subjects/collaborators/etc. What steps can we take to get out of this bubble and work with other communities? Are you complicit in the erasure of non-East Asians?
To answer the last question, I am very much complicit in that erasure. However, self-diagnosis of my problematic thinking is only one minor step of the process, and I still have much to learn about the complexities of societal class struggle. This essay ends with more questions than answers; I question that the production and our patronage of recent media products like Crazy Rich Asians and 88rising are enough to create meaningful social change.
As someone who ranked Crazy Rich Asians somewhere between “decent fun” and “okay if not with some glaring problematic aspects”, I’m not sure where the API artistic voice will develop next. Studios are hungry for the next big Asian-centric story now, but I personally hope it’s not another overtly feel-good one (and that they don’t use a Macklemore song in the trailer). This to me is the turning point; the media bigwigs and audiences are finally paying attention to API artists, but what stories will be focused on and shared from here on out in the economy of narratives? What will the Asian-American artistic voice advocate for? Crazy Rich Asians is often referred to as a good first step in API representation, but I wonder how this dialogue will continue to unfold in the next decade or so.
Read more: Shim, Hyejin. “questions on (the limits & effects of) (asian american) allyship.” Medium. 22 Aug 2017, medium.com/@persimmontree/questions-on-the-limits-effects-of-asian-american-allyship-bb545f019117
Tseng, Ada. “‘Crazy Rich Asians’ is a big win for Asian American representation in Hollywood — but what about Singaporean representation?” PRI. 15 Aug 2018, www.pri.org/stories/2018-08-15/crazy-rich-asians-big-win-asian-american-representation-hollywood-what-about?fbclid=IwAR0Vhc6qScsP_Z_Ghf0JqFFOhWd4FRwcPFRGX1k9VLwjSWPzLepzn9SKRD4
Tucker, Nia. “Sorry Asians, My Blackness IS Not Your Counterculture.” NextShark. 9 Aug 2017, nextshark.com/sorry-asians-blackness-not-counterculture/
(Special thanks to Mildred Yu for having this conversation with me. Initially posted on Instagram, edited & shared here for wider accessibility.)
