I’ve been thinking about identity politics a lot these days, and perhaps in denial about how much it actually affects me. In a common struggle for representation for example, I am very aware of how necessary it is to highlight particular identities, because each groups has different needs. This is why multiculturalism didn’t exactly work in the early 2000s, because cultures couldn’t just “play nice” with one another, united in a shared struggle for representation.
But that’s not the layer of identity politics I’m referring to, that’s really only the surface. I’m thinking about what is at play when it comes to gatekeeping, safeguarding one’s culture.
Recently, in consulting job postings for academic positions, I’ve been observing an interesting pattern in which many schools call for francophone specialists of Africa or the Caribbean, without explicitly including Asia, as if France didn’t colonize Vietnam for almost a hundred years. At first put off because this precisely what I work on, I started to wonder about the ulterior motives of search committees, my suspicious nature fueled by years and years of being on the lookout for myself in this line of work. Then someone I know tells me others find his work unviable because he is not studying the culture of his own kind, but that of another oppressed people. I found this to be unfair and discriminatory, especially coming from a white professor who is basically saying you need to study your own culture. Here in this example, people are calling out identity politics as if it’s a bad thing. A later, unrelated moment, I think about how defensive I get when I see “Vietnamese” on food networks and magazines, simply because they add peanuts or fish sauce to their dish. I think if they’re going to do it, they should do it right.
And then I pause to wonder: have we taken it too far, this politics of identity? How contradictory it is for me to be upset about job postings who disguise their need to hire Black candidates through the language of “diversity” which they mean to exclude an Asian like me, or to find the professor’s observations discriminatory when I hold on so dearly to what I know of my culture, and feel so protective of it that I don’t want others, especially those from an historically oppressive community to label or title my food in a certain way? Is that hypocritical?
But maybe there isn’t a wholesale version of identity politics that we can just pocket and use to our advantage. Maybe my protection of my culture and my memory of it is different from a White man’s perspective of how he sees identity politics evolving, because it is likely threatening for him. Or maybe they are related - why do I feel possessive and protective, if not an inheritance of colonial trauma? Perhaps gatekeeping isn’t fair if it’s a way for me to justify and claim the Truth of my very flawed, subjective memories of a certain culture, and perhaps we don’t go anywhere by holding on to the past. And yet it’s hard to let go when that is the only thing you can claim as your own in this world.
(HYPER-)INVISIBILITY : The Asian Non-Model for Affection
I’m always confused when I watch Asian music videos - by which I mean K-pop and J-pop, primarily… and the degree to which the videos feel so sexualized. As someone who grew up watching old Asian (Chinese) dramas like 還珠格格(which recently had its remake), it’s strange to know that some of the new Korean dramas are… well, R-rated. While I think most of us (though that’s probably not as true as I believe) struggle or feel loathe to envision others in the throes of passion, the depiction is fairly common in America cinema, something that has made me uncomfortable because it is so absent in Chinese cinema. For example, in 上错花轿嫁对郎*, a show that came out in 2001 and is focused around the idea of marriage, I don’t remember any scenes that show kissing, period. There are probably a few, but not many in a 20 1-hour episode show. Rather, intimacy and affection is shown in long embraces. “Intimate” scenes feature the couple lying down on a bed together, fully clothed.
What’s more remarkable is that this is a step forward even for the culture. Of my parents’ generation, nobody holds hands in public. No one leans into each other or sits touching each other. Even of the couples I know in America, there is a distinct lack of public affection between Asian couples and American couples. Of my peers, if they display a lot of physical intimacy, often it is coupled with an open embrace of another culture - in short, it is not classically considered a part of the culture we “grew up in” which is usually our parents’ culture. Parents who are more traditional, especially the Chinese parents I know, don’t have a sex talk, generally don’t approve of dating in high school, but might be confused why you’re not in a committed relationship by the time you enter grad school.
Contemporary culture of Korean and Japanese dramas are dramatically different. And I’m not quite sure why. It is possible that the government is trying to control the population of China by not encouraging more romantic media to be created. The general disparity between the classes may also because of the distinction between Asian cultures and their portrayal of love and romance on the big screen (particularly given the middle-class nature of such entertainment). But even so relative to American movies, the classic tropes are very different. American women are often either bold/brash and then “subdued” or humanized by love (see “The Proposal”, “Groundhog Day”, “Juno”, etc.) or sensitive/caring ones who win over the “playboy”/“bad boy" (see "A Walk to Remember”, “Beastly”/“Beauty & the Beast”). In Chinese drama, which, of the ones I’ve watched, are often historical, there is the “cultured, demure, perfect girl” who earns love through her faithfulness, and the “uncultured, ‘masculine’, poor girl” who is softened by love. The class element is often a part of the character trope and also often plays a part in the male characterization as well.
All this to say, the normalized presentation of love is pretty… chaste? Traditional? At least by American standards. But it goes beyond couples. Growing up, families didn’t hug (unless it was after crying) or kiss or even say “I love you.” Parents don’t ask about your day, they ask about your homework, about your success. But that is “love” is caring about how successful you are, which I thought was the strangest thing, and didn’t really consider love at all. There was a shift when I finally told my parents “I love you” - and I often still do it in English because it feels weird to do it in Chinese. It just feels… awkward and embarrassing. My younger sister and I are super affectionate, but we do it in English as well. It’s just really weird, because it seems illogical.
I’m also listening to “I Knew I Loved You (Before I Met You)” right now and I would say that I don’t think the disparity exists as much in terms of love songs… but I’m not sure if that’s just because I haven’t listened to as many Chinese love songs, or if it’s because it’s not as prevalent in the media.
*for those of you who are curious what a more “traditional” Chinese drama looks like, you can actual watch some English subtitled videos like the ones above. (it starts with episode 6, unfortunately, but it gives you a sense of what a lot of the ones I’ve watched are like)
Chinese American Actress’s Story Illustrates ‘Othering’ of Immigrants
Recent acts of violence against Asian Americans across the country have underscored the notion of being perceived as a “perpetual foreigner” in one’s home country.
But this is nothing new. The “othering” of immigrant groups is long rooted in American history.
May is Asian Pacific American Heritage Month! Here are some recent titles by Asian American authors writing young adult speculative fiction and genre titles you can enjoy! Please let me know if you recommend any young adult genre titles by those from Pacific islands heritage in comments. Thank you!
A Line in the Dark by Malinda Lo The Epic Crush of Genie Lo by F. C. Yee The Speaker by Traci Chee Rebel Seoul by Axie Oh Not Your Villain by C. B. Lee WARCROSS by Marie Lu EXO by Fonda Lee Chainbreaker by Tara Sim The Ship Beyond Time by Heidi Heilig Dove Alight by Karen Bao A Crown of Wishes by Roshani Chokshi WANT by Cindy Pon A Thousand Beginnings and Endings edited by Elsie Chapman and Ellen Oh Heart Forger by Rin Chupeco Forest of a Thousand Lanterns by Julie Dao
TODAY IS THE DAY! The YA world finally gets to have more Malinda Lo to read! I had the pleasure of beta reading this book, and this deliciously dark thriller is one of my favorites by Malinda. Just look at this stunning cover!
Jess Wong is Angie Redmond’s best friend. And that’s the most important thing, even if Angie can’t see how Jess truly feels. Being the girl no one quite notices is OK with Jess anyway. While nobody notices her, she’s free to watch everyone else. But when Angie begins to fall for Margot Adams, a girl from the nearby boarding school, Jess can see it coming a mile away. Suddenly her powers of observation are more curse than gift.
As Angie drags Jess further into Margot’s circle, Jess discovers more than her friend’s growing crush. Secrets and cruelty lie just beneath the carefree surface of this world of wealth and privilege, and when they come out, Jess knows Angie won’t be able to handle the consequences.
When the inevitable darkness finally descends, Angie will need her best friend.
“Lo has delivered an intricate tapestry of narrative, woven in a labyrinthine pattern of secrets and colored with intersecting hues of Chinese-American identity, the dark intensity of relationships, and telltale stains of blood.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“With an active focus on female friendships and relationships, A Line in the Dark is a twisty, dark psychological thriller that will leave you guessing til the very end. The story follows two friends down a path of dysfunction and murder as one of them, Chinese-American Jess tries to balance the expectations of her family, her fraught relationship with Angie, and her mounting sexual attraction for her. Lo offers some impressive storytelling, a chilling plot, and mean girls aplenty.”—Teen Vogue
THE EPIC CRUSH OF GENIE LO was definitely not the first book I’d ever written. Back when it only existed as a single chapter and some ideas about the characters, I was trying to get a completed middle grade book off the ground. I attended a writer’s workshop with a group critique session, hoping to get the insight I needed to finally make my MG work viable.
Once I arrived at the conference, however, I was told I’d been sorted into a YA critique group. This kind of thing tends to happen when your last name is at the end of the alphabet. Everyone gets sectioned off into the teams/groups/classes that are available in A to Z order, and as someone who arbitrarily fails to make the cutoff, you get to fill whatever’s left open.
So I pulled an audible. Instead of reading from my middle grade book, I read the opening pages of GENIE LO, which were pretty much unchanged from the published version, if you’ve seen those already. And to my surprise, the group liked it! They told me it was funny and attention-grabbing, which was exactly what I’d hoped for.
Then they asked me how the story and characters would develop. “What’s Genie like?” someone asked. “What’s her dominant emotion?”
“She’s angry,” I said.
The room kind of turned when I said that. I could see the hesitation in the group.
“Angry against injustice?” someone offered, trying to add a helpful qualifier to my description.
Well that too, I remember thinking.
I could have been reading too much into that moment. And I certainly am not denigrating critique groups at writers’ conferences; the very same people at the session helped me flesh out what THE EPIC CRUSH OF GENIE LO would eventually become. I owe them a great deal. But I do remember that one little hitch in time where it took a bit of mental effort for them to reconcile an angry protagonist with a sympathetic one.
Genie is overtly frustrated with what can be a dehumanizing process for many at her age—college applications. The idea that you can be denied opportunity and self-actualization by a gatekeeper who won’t even spend that much time judging you is maddening. I saw a fictional parallel where other creators have before, in Sun Wukong’s struggle to gain acceptance among the gods. But I also saw a personal one in the post-college career difficulties I was having at the time. The fight to be accepted as worthy never really ends. Or at least that’s how I felt about it.
Further complicating matters is when life doesn’t even let you focus on your own fight, and demands that you do some heavy lifting for others. In Genie’s case, she has to protect her town from an invasion of demons who won’t let well enough alone, simply because she happens to be the strongest one around. Important tasks often fall to the people who are already working the hardest, not to those with the most time and resources on their hands. I wanted to write about this in a way I hoped people would recognize, visible under the action and comedy and romance.
Anyway, if you want to see what happened when I doubled down on Genie being angry rather than back away from the characterization, you can check out THE EPIC CRUSH OF GENIE LO when it comes out on August 8th.
F. C. Yee grew up in New Jersey and went to school in New England, but has called the San Francisco Bay Area home ever since he beat a friend at a board game and shouted “That’s how we do it in NorCal, baby!” Outside of writing, he practices capoeira, a Brazilian form of martial arts, and has a day job mostly involving spreadsheets.
Even before there was Ghost in the Shell, there was LUCY. Admittedly, it was pretty much agreed that LUCY was a crappy movie all round, but I only had to suffer the trailer to know that it was not for me. It opens with ScarJo kidnapped by Taiwanese mafia type, before she gives the bad boys the ass kicking they deserve. Asian mafia/triad/gang is a western media trope hollywood falls upon time and again. But what really got me was when ScarJo escaped, she was shouting “Do you speak English?” and then shooting Taiwanese who didn’t. Sure, maybe it was another triad baddie, but WTF ever. The fact that Hollywood did not see the heavily racist overtones of this opening scene is unsurprising… and infuriating.
So in one of the first major Hollywood movies where my birth city is featured on the big screen, ScarJo is shown gunning down Taiwanese men and demanding that they speak English. *insert appropriate RAGE gif here*
I joke that I write All Asian All the Time. But it’s not really a joke if it’s true, is it? WANT is my first near-future thriller set in Taipei with a cast composed entirely of Asian and Pacific Islander characters, and a Taiwanese hero featured prominently on the cover.
WANT is the first YA set in Taiwan I am aware of released by a bigger US publisher, and definitely the first YA SF. The cover art was designed by the amazing Jason Chan, and my audio book is narrated by Chinese American actor Roger Yeh. I had requested an Asian voice actor and my awesome audio book publisher honored that request! You can listen to a sample of Roger’s fantastic narration here.
It hasn’t been an easy journey. Publishing is a rough business, period, but when you’re insisting on writing novels with basically entire Asian casts, your story is seen as too niche, an outlier. Asian Americans have been othered in western media from the beginning, and it comes as no surprise this was also the case in young adult novels.
There is no greater compliment for me as a writer than to have a reader tell me they could see my books made into a movie, but also probably nothing as heartbreaking. I know my narratives are too western for Asia and too Asian for the west to garner interest from film or dramatic rights. It would be too much of a risk, too big of a leap. As Americans, we’ll accept immigrant stories from Asian Americans (and not much else), we’ll admire and ogle the “exotic” Asian backdrops, costumes, customs, culture, and women. But Asian faces will still be relegated to the background as side characters to provide some “authenticity” and lend to the Asian ambiance.
These are not the stories I write, friends. And I will continue to put Asian protagonists at the forefront of all of my stories. I celebrate each publication as a triumph, and my heart is lifted by the young Asian American creators and storytellers I see rising to tell their own tales—to bring to life what we personally never got to see as young readers.
WANT releases June 13th and can be purchased (mostly) where all books are sold. Or you can order through my favorite indie Mysterious Galaxy Books to receive signed and personalized copies (while supporting indie, woohoo!) and I’ll include gorgeous art swag by Jason Chan and myself.
I’m so thrilled to share WANT with you, readers. I hope you fall in love with these characters and Taipei as much as I love them.
Cindy Pon is the author of Silver Phoenix (Greenwillow), which was named one of the Top Ten Fantasy and Science Fiction Books for Youth by the American Library Association’s Booklist and one of 2009′s best Fantasy, Science Fiction and Horror by VOYA; SerpentineandSacrifice(Month9Books), which were both Junior Library Guild selections and received starred reviews from School Library Journal andKirkus, respectively; and WANT (Simon Pulse), also a Junior Library Guild selection, is a near-future thriller set in Taipei. She is the cofounder of Diversity in YA with Malinda Lo and on the advisory board of We Need Diverse Books. Cindy is also a Chinese brush-painting student of over a decade. Learn more about her books and art at http://cindypon.com.
I have always, always, always been a people-pleaser.
There were whole seasons where I would lose sleep and go stomach-sick thinking I might have remotely upset someone.
I was an expert on doing pirouette with shaky ankles over thin ice and dynamite, frantic apology dances, walking sideways until somebody could see I was really sorry, I didn’t mean to, what can I do to make it up to you, I will literally bleed tears for you, please for God’s sake just like me don’t leave me please like me.
It’s still a problem. I can feel my soul stretch to somebody when they’re upset with me. Desperate to correct it.
I have found too that our systems do not take kindly to those who who stand tall, take a knee, protest and petition, rock the boat and make waves—they will roll their eyes the second you call out *white supremacy* and xenophobia and oppression.
It is not so easy to “choose” to be ourselves everywhere we go, because a trip wire waits for those who run against assimilation and towards systemic change. In systems that reward conformers and punish the outspoken: how can we choose to be anything else?
What I’ve had to keep learning was I’d rather someone hear my “no” than to get a fraudulent yes-version of me.
I’d rather someone know me fully—husband, father, brother in Christ, Korean American, chaplain, fiercely for the wounded—then to get the pieces of me that were comfortable for them.
I’d rather scream against a system than be assimilated by it, so that others inside will know they are not alone, that their stories matter, that we seek the same horizon.
I’d rather someone love me for my boundaries than like me for violating all of them; otherwise what does that say for both of us?
People will still leave long after you pleased them. Long after you painfully sculpted yourself with their chisel. So you must sculpt with your own. So I must.
To speak, by grace, through all that God has made us, even when it does not make change in this lifetime, is still to give our story for one person, for the people who need it. Others need you: all of you. Not the one who pleases. But the one who speaks truly. Speak. Truly.
Full Circle is an unusual artwork: a durational performance piece which will challenge and transfix both artist and audience. For six consecutive days, Amy Lee Sanford will sit amid a circle of 40 Kompong Chhang clay pots. Slowly and deliberately, she will break one pot by dropping it on the floor. She will then gather the pieces and meticulously glue the pot back together, binding the fragments with string and returning the remade pot to the circle. Over six days, all 40 pots will be broken and remade in this way.
“I create art in order to observe, examine and transform the lasting effects of war, including trauma, loss, displacement and guilt,” Sanford explains. The repetitive process of breaking and remaking the pots, mesmerising in itself, is also richly allegorical of ways in which Sanford – like countless Cambodians – has had to reconstruct her understandings of her life and family.
Raised in the US by her Swedish-American adopted mother, she was the only Asian in her neighbourhood. “My father wrote frequent letters to my mother and me, but after April 17 1975, the letters stopped coming… After many months, and ultimately years of silence from his end, my mother made the painful deduction that he had been murdered by the Khmer Rouge, especially since my father was a known intellectual and educator. I grew up with the belief that all of my family had been killed during the Khmer Rouge era, and that I was the only surviving member of my bloodline. After only 13 years of life with my (adopted) mother, she died suddenly when I was 15. That loss
the first time in 30 years, to meet my uncle and cousins. The three- week whirlwind visit was exciting, exhilarating, and exhausting.” Full Circle is not the first of Sanford’s works to address the cycles of trauma in both her personal biography and the nation’s history,but it is the first in this radical format.
Footage of an asian girl’s eyes slowly engorging plays alongside a female narrator explaining and defending her desire to undergo Blepharoplasty (eye surgery). The narrator is matter of fact about the issues surrounding having Epicanthic fold eyelids, and explains with a clarity the logic behind her desire. It’s the only voice of the 5 in Record Recreate which isn’t drenched in apology or self-deprecation. But even that voice, like the others, recognizes a distance between self-perception and the body. Girls talk about their physical features and future selves with the same kind of language of desire one might use to talk about wanting an upgraded version of your old iPhone. An attitude of being able to pick, choose and upgrade, to question the quality of characteristics about yourself and be open to the pursuit of something, if not better, then different. This attitude towards identity reappears frequently in Jacqueline Lin’s work. Everywhere from the sacrosanct image of the buddha dissolving into cut-up pieces of itself in Machina Buddha, to the ‘Choose your own adventure’ style of Oriental Battle, to the changing traditional Chinese Opera makeup masks in Bian Lian. Identity, costume and desire are intertwined, with the body as the ultimate canvas for a fluid social negotiation of the self. The subject of Lin’s videos demand us to ask questions about ideals and quest for self-satisfaction, as well as provoking us to stop and consider where the logic of these superficial pursuits originate. We decided to turn the camera around, and ask these questions of the lady behind the lens.
What is your background and how has it influenced the way you see the world?
I spent my childhood growing up in Jeddah and Cairo, and then moved to Taiwan in 8th grade and went to high school there. Living in these different countries made it a little difficult for me to really find my own identity. I never thought I could completely relate to my friends from the Middle East because of social and lingual barriers, and when I went back to Taiwan I found that I didn’t truly understand the Taiwanese culture either because I attended an International school where we were taught in English, and influenced by Western culture. However, I never thought about this as something negative and I feel so blessed to have been able to learn from the Islamic, Chinese and Western culture. I think of myself as a mix of all these influences that have turned me into who I am today. Having experienced ethnically being in both the minority and the majority, I feel more culturally aware and appreciative of everyone’s views.
Though you work in a variety of mediums, video seems to be your go-to. What was your first experience with video? What do you feel is the future potential of the moving image?
I used to create short movies and ask my sisters to act for me - the movies were really silly though! I was around 12 when I directed my first video about this ballerina who hates going to ballet class and accidentally knocks over her teacher while pirouetting…seemed funny at the time! But what hooked me in was being able to immediately cut and edit within video camcorder – I would storyboard my shots to make sure I knew what to film first and last, and plan when to cut into close-ups of the characters or their actions. Nowadays video comes in all forms and is so easily accessible. I am always recording videos on my phone of things I come across that I find visually captivating – whether it’s the people, the shadows cast on walls, or the patterns created by reflections. I think that moving images don’t have to always be viewed on a screen, and I am more interested in video in other forms such as projected onto surfaces, or how video can change environments that we live in.
One of the primary focuses in your work is the character of an asian girl. Is there something specific you are trying to communicate? What kind of a portrait are you trying to paint?
I find myself returning back to this character of an Asian girl all the time because I draw my inspiration from my experiences of being one. I am constantly thinking about the social norms of being an Asian female specifically and how often they become categorized as one idea when really, each Asian female has her own identity that is completely unique. There are many assumptions about Asian females because of popular media that has given a lot of Westerners certain ideas about us. I am both poking fun at these categorizations because I completely disagree with them, and am exploring ways in which Asian girls identify themselves.
Outside of the asian girl, I also feel like you are constructing an entire body of work based off of a language of personal symbolism- hair buns, masks, nostalgic Chinese music… what do these ideas mean to you when you incorporated them into your works?
The symbolism comes from my curiosity to know more about Asian practices - the traditional Chinese performances or instruments like the Gu-Zheng and learn more about them because I myself am not entirely familiar with it. And honestly, the symbolism I incorporate in my works come from what I am obsessed with at the time of making those projects. For instance, the hair buns came from seeing some friends at RISD do their hair up that way – and I loved the way they looked so decided to create a character inspired by them!
You are now a senior in college, what was the worst moment in your college experience and how did you overcome it? What was your best experience?
If I had to pick out something I didn’t enjoy these past three years it would probably be times when I am assigned a project to work on and can’t generate any ideas for it. I dislike jumping into an idea that I am not happy about and creating something I don’t feel is very me. Sometimes it doesn’t work out and I am not proud of my work, and sometimes it surprises me because a project might take on a different direction and turn out great! My best experience is being able to work with others, collaborating with them, and asking them to be part of my projects. In art school, I am constantly surrounded by people I can share my work with and in turn see their work too. We are always giving each other feedback and sharing our love for art, and that is what I am truly enjoying the most about being here.
An interview with Taiwanese-American video artist, Jacqueline Lin, by Vivian Loh and Jessia Ma.
It’s no secret that most social studies curricula in the United States are crammed full of narratives about white men. I can’t count how many times I’ve heard about George Washington crossing the Delaware River, yet every history class I’ve taken seems to come and go without any discussion of people who look like me.
There’s no mention of the Chinese laborers instrumental in constructing the transcontinental railroad; little discussion of the more than 100,000 Japanese-Americans wrongly placed in internment camps during World War II; and, critically, no commemoration of the countless Asian-Americans who changed the course of U.S. history.
Asian-Americans, especially Asian-American women, are often pigeonholed as meek or unassertive, rather than depicted as leaders. The roots of these stereotypes lie in the erasure of Asian trailblazers in history.
I first heard the term “me love you long time” by my father after he had found out I watch kdramas. He would then say I was going to marry a Chinese man and started speaking incorrect mandarinand it all sounded so wrong, but I didn’t speak up. I think after we had seen how much discrimination asian people face in America he realized that it isn’t just latinx and black people. We are all suffering and oppressed by the system designed to make us weak. I wish him and I both had learned this sooner but I’m glad we both have realized it now.
The two year anniversary of my breast reduction just passed. It’s been one of the most important decisions I’ve made, not only because the quality of my life has improved by bounds, but because it was one of the first active, positive decisions that I made regarding my body.
Not many people know that I had the surgery, mostly because I was good at hiding under baggy clothes and bad posture. As soon as I got a full-time job and the health insurance that came with it kicked in, I started looking for a surgeon. I had spent most of my senior year in college trying to accept my body and find bras that fit well and looked okay; the years before that, I had resigned myself to ill-fitting bras. However, in the process of empowering myself by finding a bra that fit, I realized that I could get rid of the problem entirely. I was done spending time, energy, and money on something that I didn’t think necessitated so much of my life.
Bras
Bras are not one-size-fits-all. They’re complicated because breasts are complicated. Not only is there the usual band and cup size to think about, but the wire width, cup depth, and construction of the bra are some of the other considerations necessary to finding a well-fitting bra. It’s not as simple as calculating your bra size and then buying any bra off-the-shelf; bra brands and models differ in sizing, and it takes multiple tries to find one that fits. Moreover, bras are expensive. Well-constructed bras are often $50+ each.
When I started on my bra-fitting journey, I was able to buy some used bras at a reduced price from /r/braswap (a reddit community for buying, selling, and exchanging bras) and Bratabase (similarly great community that also has a database of bra measurements and reviews). I ended up finding a couple of bras that fit me fairly well after an exhausting search spanning half a year, having tried at least a dozen different bra brands/styles/sizes, with multiple crying sessions when bras didn’t fit. It may seem absurd to cry over a bra, but I don’t know how to convey the frustration, anger, sadness, and hatred I felt toward my body when I had no bras that fit, no clothes that fit the way I wanted them to, and no way to exercise comfortably. Not only that, but the way I viewed myself clashed with my physical body and the way society viewed it.
Asian Identity
Being an Asian girl with large breasts is a really weird experience. I can’t even count the number of times I googled phrases such as “asian with large breasts” in an effort to find how other people deal with it, only to be met with images and links fetishizing Asian women. (How do you even google for such a thing?) The fetishization of feminine Asian bodies, especially those with larger breasts, distilled my body – my everyday body, the body I had to constantly live in – into a sex object. It felt terrible.
I finally found one blog, CurvyHK, with writings about the blogger’s personal experiences, bra reviews, and interesting resources and anecdotes on East Asian culture and breasts, such as a Korean documentary about Park Chaeri and her breast reduction. The documentary was exciting because it was the first time I had seen another Asian woman with my body type. However, I also struggled with the thought that getting a reduction would just be conceding to societal norms – being tired of feeling like an “other”, as Park Chaeri did. Conforming to the thin, small-chested Asian stereotype grants privilege (fitting into societal expectations and standard clothing sizes), and I wondered if it was the allure of that privilege that was pushing me to get the surgery.
Boob Problems
Breast reductions are interesting because they’re not a purely cosmetic surgery; the ramifications of carrying multiple pounds of flesh on your chest can be severe. I had minor neck and shoulder pain along with terrible, awful posture from trying to minimize how my chest looked. I had rashes due to constant skin contact and certain areas never having a chance to breathe. The only sports bra that allowed me to run comfortably was $70, or else I had to wear two or more bras when I exercised.
More often than not, though, the emotional toll was greater than the physical toll. Society tells us that our bodies are wrong when we don’t fit into certain clothes when the real reason is that the clothes themselves are wrong. I knew this intellectually, but it still hurt emotionally when the only button-up shirt that fit me had to be two sizes larger to accommodate my chest. Moreover, I was resentful that I had to spend so much time learning about bra sizing and fitting. I realized that all of the reasons – societally influenced or not – led me to overwhelming choose the surgery. I was certain that getting it would improve my life and how I viewed my body. Getting a reduction was a way for me to take back control of my body and my time.
Bodily Autonomy
My body is my own. My body is me. Unfortunately, we’re often told that our bodies are not ours by the media, by society, and even by the people whom we love. Bodies – especially feminine bodies – are commodified as objects to view, and even as objects to own.
My intimate partner at the time had a heteronormative view on bodies and relationships. He would say things like, “my body is yours”, with the implication that my body was therefore his. He opposed my choice of getting a breast reduction because he feared the resulting scars would make me less sexually attractive to him. While I was trying to take control over my body through the surgery, he was trying to convince me that his opinions on my body mattered more than my own. We had many arguments over the course of months, and he only conceded when I told him that my parents were supportive of my decision. Even after the surgery, he would prod me to use scar reducing cream. While I was ecstatic with my new breasts and new scars – and I had never thought I would ever be able to ecstatically look at my body – he shamed me because he thought scars were unattractive.
Throughout the course of my reduction process and into recovery, I gave advice to other women who were interested in getting reductions but had disapproving husbands or boyfriends. I told them about the many conversations I had, and how my boyfriend finally came around after realizing that 1) I wouldn’t rant about bras as much and 2) I would feel better about myself. Most of their partners also came around. What makes me angry is how I and these other women had to spend so much time convincing our partners to let us make a decision on our own bodies in the first place, needing to explain how the surgery would benefit them when the benefits for ourselves should’ve been enough. I loathe that people feel obliged to think about their sexual partners when modifying their bodies.
Asexuality
Breasts are viewed as sexual. As an asexual person, this was something that made me feel extremely uncomfortable in my own skin. Even touching my breasts made me tense because they were these weird, sexualized things that were somehow still a part of me. It certainly didn’t help that my partner was sexually attracted to them. I dreaded showering, putting on clothes, anything where I had to look at or touch them or remember that I had breasts.
When I had my reduction, I wasn’t aware of asexuality. When I look back, though, a lot of the emotional reasons why I hated my breasts were related to how alien the sexuality tied to them felt. Not only did I feel removed from the fetishization of my body due to them, I wanted them gone because I wanted to be less sexually attractive. My breasts didn’t hold any meaning to me and were a nuisance physically, as well as a way for people to perceive me as feminine and sexual. Now, they’ve taken on meaning for me through my scars.
Scars
Ilove my scars. Even when I don’t love my body for whatever reason, I still love my scars. They remind me that I’m ultimately in control of my body. They remind me of the time when I knew exactly what I wanted and made it happen. They remind me that I am capable.
If anyone is wondering what the process for going through a breast reduction is like – finding a good surgeon, getting it covered by insurance, the surgery and recovery process, etc. – please don’t hesitate to ask me. I was a 28G and got reduced to a 28DD (the smallest I could go, with 2+ lbs removed).
For bra fitting, I highly recommend the ABTF Beginner’s Guide – it goes through finding your bra size (your UK size, since US bra sizes aren’t standardized) and includes recommendations for which bras might best fit your breast shape. There’s a great community at /r/abrathatfits with many knowledgeable and helpful people as well.
When people of color are being murdered by the police with impunity, and when queer and trans folks are being murdered and being incarcerated for trying to defend their own lives, and when immigrants are being deported at record high rates, and when there’s a presidential candidate who proposes having a national Muslim database, it seems like there are a lot of forces in the world that tell me, and people who are similarly outside the norm of a ‘default human,’ that we need to apologize for existing.
Field Trip to the Museum of Human History
Everyone had been talking about the new exhibit, recently unearthed artifacts from a time
no living hands remember. What twelve year old doesn’t love a good scary story? Doesn’t thrill
at rumors of her own darkness whispering from the canyon? We shuffled in the dim light
and gaped at the secrets buried in clay, reborn as warning signs:
a “nightstick,” so called for its use in extinguishing the lights in one’s eyes.
A machine used for scanning fingerprints like cattle ears, grain shipments. We shuddered,
shoved our fingers in our pockets, acted tough. Pretended not to listen as the guide said,
Ancient American society was built on competition and maintained through domination and control.
In place of modern-day accountability practices, the institution known as “police” kept order
using intimidation, punishment, and force. We pressed our noses to the glass,
strained to imagine strangers running into our homes, pointing guns in our faces because we’d hoarded
too much of the wrong kind of property. Jadera asked something about redistribution
and the guide spoke of safes, evidence rooms, more profit. Marian asked about raiding the rich,
and the guide said, In America, there were no greater protections from police than wealth and whiteness.
Finally, Zaki asked what we were all wondering: But what if you didn’t want to?
and the walls snickered and said, steel, padlock, stripsearch, hardstop.
Dry-mouthed, we came upon a contraption of chain and bolt, an ancient torture instrument
the guide called “handcuffs.” We stared at the diagrams and almost felt the cold metal
licking our wrists, almost tasted dirt, almost heard the siren and slammed door,
the cold-blooded click of the cocked-back pistol, and our palms were slick with some old recognition,
as if in some forgotten dream we did live this way, in submission, in fear, assuming positions
of power were earned, or at least carved in steel, that they couldn’t be torn down like musty curtains,
an old house cleared of its dust and obsolete artifacts. We threw open the doors to the museum,
shedding its nightmares on the marble steps, and bounded into the sun, toward the school buses
or toward home, or the forests, or the fields, or wherever our good legs could roam.
Dreams of a world that would look back on our time in horror.
A Sea/ I See of (No) Yellow by Elie Those micro-aggressions back then didn’t faze me: I thought they were true. I was a “bad” Asian because all my white friends were “more Asian” than me. I then started wondering how can I be a “good” Asian? I never figured it out. If you know, let me know. Better yet, build me a time machine and go back to my middle school days to let me know what items I need to fulfill to check off “good” Asian. It would save me a lot of stress and wondering what the f— I am.
That night after meeting up with them I got into one of my Wikipedia binges. This Wikipedia binge was different than the others, though. Instead of reading about my favorite episodes of “The Office” and education reformists, I somehow ended up on the Wiki page for the “Asian American Civil Rights Movement.” I was consumed. I had no idea this happened in the 1960s and 1970s – the same time as the Civil Rights Movement. It was because of the Asian American Civil Rights Movement that Asian Americans were able to develop ethnic studies programs and gain reparations for Japanese-Americans put in internment camps during World War II. What was most surprising was that our movement was a response to the Civil Rights Movement. The Black Power Movement caused many Asian-Americans to question themselves, prompting the “Yellow Power” movement. This fought against the harmful and racist stereotypes that East Asian women were either soft, docile and submissive, or luscious and dominating “dragon ladies” designed to fulfill white men’s sexual pleasures. They fought against stereotypes that East Asian men would steal white wives from their husbands. They fought against the idea that we would totally annihilate and disrupt America’s society. Yellow Power activists also wanted to prevent gentrification from destroying historic Asian-American neighborhoods. They proudly protested and showed solidarity with Black Power and Black Panther Party activists. Yellow Power showed America that we are not your model minority.
Falling deeper into the rabbit hole, I read about Asian-American activists. Some prominent ones include Richard Aoki, a Japanese-American man who worked with the Black Panther Party and Yuri Kochiyama, another Japanese-American woman activist who is photographed holding Malcolm X as he lay dying. I saw photos from the 1960s and 1970s of Asian-Americans holding signs that read “Yellow Peril Supports Black Power” and “Power to the People – Black Power to Black People – Yellow Power to Yellow People.” They protested in the streets to reclaim and redefine what it meant to be Asian in America.
From middle school to high school, I rejected my Chinese identity and replaced it with my Jewish religion and being “American.” I was American-Chinese, not Chinese-American. I was a paradox: I didn’t want to be a “stereotypical” Asian in any way, yet I loved when I could be Asian with Hanna Park. The Wikipedia binge showed be that “being Asian” isn’t restricted to being good in math, eating rice, and being docile, sweet and nice. “Being Asian” can mean those things and more. A “good Asian” can be great at math and want to protest the system and stand up for their rights. A “good Asian” can play the piano and be a comedian. A “good” Asian is what I have been all along.
Finally, after nineteen years, I found my tribe of “Cool Asians,” which has expanded to include Drea and Hope’s two other Asian roommates. We still love watching Studio Ghibli movies, eating Shin Ramyun, and adding Sriracha to everything, but we aren’t defined by that. We don’t melt into the background because we’re supposed to as women, and especially as Chinese women. We aren’t quiet. We yell “Black Lives Matter” in solidarity for the fight to take up space and be us. We cut our hair short and wear “boy clothes” because fuck gender stereotypes. We aren’t your typical Chinese-American girls, but we are still Chinese-American girls every day of our lives. To quote Drake, I’ve “started from the bottom now we’re here.” We, as in my Chinese, American, and Jewish parts, are here. All the parts of me are here. My whole team is f—ing here.
The game follows blind knight Edward Blake, who, guided by his daughter Louise’s voice, sets out on a quest to save his wife Lady Caroline, who has been kidnapped by a mad king called Thork. Throughout the game, Blake must use his auditory senses to avoid traps and ambushes, and fight with members of Thork’s faceless army. The smartphone touchscreen acts like a joystick, with players either swiping left, right, forwards, and backwards to move their feet or sword. Louise provides the navigation instructions, and as the game progresses, the soundscape grows increasingly multi-layered.
In recent years, creators in the gaming sphere have started to design games catering to a wider audience. British developer launched the Papa Sangre series in 2010, and in 2014, Incus Games created Three Monkeys, an audio-only action game for the visually impaired.
DOWiNO hope that their 3D binaural technology for gaming gets adopted more widely by other games studios in France.
“The aim was to open a door and to show that it was possible to make a game without images. If others start making these kind of games, it’s all for the better,” said Gagne.
This game is pretty cool! The soundscape is really great. My coworkers and I have been playing through it, though I’m awful at it (like I am at most fighting games).
remembering richard aoki, born 76 years ago on november 20, 1938.
he died on march 15, 2009, which the autopsy report stated was of “a self-inflicted [gun shot wound] to the abdomen [diaphragm].
lauded as the only asian american member of the black panthers, richard played a major role in the ethnic studies and third world liberation front strikes in 1968.
however, on august 20, 2012, when journalist seth rosenfeld revealed FBI files that proved richard once served as an informant, the community was forced to reexamine richard’s glorious legacy. to this day, there are more questions than answers, and there will continue to be questions that cannot be answered by richard himself.
”One of the biggest tools for getting people ‘woke’ is art. You can move people with art, and once you move them, you can create consciousness, and change. You can’t just tell people to register to vote and be done with it.”
These three Angelenos were among 10 people the White House honored as “Champions of Change for Asian American and Pacific Islander Art and Storytelling.” With Taz are Jason Fong, a high school student and creator of the #MyAsianAmericanStory hashtag, and Jenny Yang, a writer and stand-up comedian.
@dex spoke with them recently about comedy, community, the impact of whitewashing in Hollywood, the Peter Liang trial and other timely topics. You can check that out here.
![Amy Lee Sanford, b. USA, 1972Full CircleCambodia (2012)Durational performance[Source], [Source]Roger](https://64.media.tumblr.com/443b3502bcdae2aba4a9e1473b7f24be/tumblr_pc8akga0ih1ug5xwdo1_r1_500.jpg "Amy Lee Sanford, b. USA, 1972Full CircleCambodia (2012)Durational performance[Source], [Source]Roger")
![Amy Lee Sanford, b. USA, 1972Full CircleCambodia (2012)Durational performance[Source], [Source]Roger](https://64.media.tumblr.com/7a33302e529a73cff9406552c8b13efe/tumblr_pc8akga0ih1ug5xwdo3_r1_640.jpg "Amy Lee Sanford, b. USA, 1972Full CircleCambodia (2012)Durational performance[Source], [Source]Roger")
![Amy Lee Sanford, b. USA, 1972Full CircleCambodia (2012)Durational performance[Source], [Source]Roger](https://64.media.tumblr.com/ce7b6e26dc795407e96ee3b628506c69/tumblr_pc8akga0ih1ug5xwdo2_r1_640.jpg "Amy Lee Sanford, b. USA, 1972Full CircleCambodia (2012)Durational performance[Source], [Source]Roger")
![Amy Lee Sanford, b. USA, 1972Full CircleCambodia (2012)Durational performance[Source], [Source]Roger](https://64.media.tumblr.com/22aa74029cecbcc3f30ffb18be85462b/tumblr_pc8akga0ih1ug5xwdo4_r1_640.jpg "Amy Lee Sanford, b. USA, 1972Full CircleCambodia (2012)Durational performance[Source], [Source]Roger")
