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IBARW: Speaking out
A contribution to International Blog Against Racism Week!
I read Sarah Dessen's Just Listen a few weeks ago, and while the title is about listening, the book is about the heroine learning to voice her feelings and her opinions, even when they may cause anger or disapproval. I was incredibly involved with Annabel's feelings and her constant silence, largely because I see so much of myself in her. It's gotten much easier for me to speak out about topics that involve me only on a personal level, but that's not what I wanted to talk about in this post.
I wanted to talk about why I'm trying to blog about race more, especially since both attempts to talk about race in my LJ have received quite a few comments to the effect that bringing up the topics of race and racism encroaches upon the attempt to be colorblind.
I don't mean to make this post all tragic and dramatic so that people will say, "Oh, that's awful, poor you!" I'm not trying to garner sympathy, but to show what racism has meant in my life and how it's affected me. I decided to post it after the Great Cultural Appropriation Debate of DOOM, and the PotC Debate of DOOM just cemented that decision. I want to counter the idea that racism is over, that we're all colorblind now.
Naturally, I wish it were that way. But I don't think it is.
This isn't meant to represent anyone's experience but my own. I realize that the privileges of being financially well-off and heterosexual temper a lot of my experiences, and that being a woman adds yet another layer of complexity. This isn't meant to denigrate people who suffer from classism, homophobism, sexism, or any of the other things that are wrong with society. Nor is it meant to represent the Asian-American experience as a whole, much less the minority experience, which is as rich and varied as the human experience (since, duh, it's a subset). And it most definitely isn't meant to draw attention away from the black experience, the Latino or Hispanic experience, or the Native American experience.
Also also, the experiences that I mention are my own, and as such, they consist of things that I remember most. People featured in these experiences may remember things differently. But I would like to ask people to really think about why I might remember these experiences differently, why they might mean different things to me, before refuting them.
Also also also, yes, I do think categorizing people in terms of race is problematic. On the other hand, because (I'm paraphrasing Frank Wu here, because I can't find the quote) while race is non-existent in scientific terms, racism does exist. Even if some people don't distinguish between a black person and a white person, other people will. And because racism exists, we cannot ignore race unless we also ignore the deleterious effects of racism.
I also (x4) hate to be paranoid and defensive, but given the frightening amount of comments that my two posts on the Great Cultural Appropriation Debate of DOOM and my post on Race and PotC 2 got, I'd like to ask people to really think before they comment, to see if their comments fall under How to Suppress Discussions on Racism, which is biting and beautiful. Unfortunately, I've seen examples of many points in all three of my posts above. And if your comments do meet those guidelines, please try asking yourself why they do, why comments like that are so pervasive, why they come up whenever discussions of racism come up. I'm not even saying to not make comments to that effect. I'm just asking that people think their comments first.
Finally, I am by no means the first person to talk about this or bring this up; people far more persuasive and thoughtful than me have been posting about this online for ages, and of course, there is a robust conversation about race going back a long time.
Most of my pre-college years were spent in Taiwan, where I didn't particularly have to think about racism, except on a more theoretical level. Of course, part of why I didn't have to think about racism was because I was Chinese, not an aboriginal inhabitant of Taiwan. Another part was because up until Chen Shuei-Bien was elected, I could live with my head in the clouds with regard to politics — the KMT was in power and the Taiwanese national movement wasn't as prominent as it is now. I was in the majority; I could afford not to worry.
The one thing I do remember from Taiwan was when my AP history teacher (white American) asked my class if we would continue and socialize with other Asians when we went to college, since most of us had gotten into colleges in America.
Most of the people in my class said yes, they would probably be joining Asian associations or clubs. I said no. My teacher argued that we should try to get a more diverse experience, and at the time, I agreed with him.
When I went to college, I did what I said. I had several screaming fights with my mom and my dad about not joining the Chinese association. I thought I was being anti-racist. In the end, because I didn't make a deliberate effort to try and befriend people of other races, the majority of my friends ended up being white.
This could be because of my college, which was much less diverse than most. And I know many people who claim to have lots of friends of other races. But I remember![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
coffeeandink telling me that it's very common for people to overestimate the number of people of color or women in a room, so I wonder. The very fact that I do wonder is telling in and of itself.
I remember comments on why all the Asian people self-segregated and sat at their own table. I remember the one regularly racially-integrated table being called derogatory names. The comments about the racially-integrated table were because they frequently left dirty dishes at the table, but I still wonder if there was disguised vitriol. I wonder this because there were so many comments around me about people who were "overly sensitive" about racism or sexism, so much routine mockery of editorials in the college paper on the harmful experiences of Sikh students being called "Osama bin Laden" in shopping malls, mockery of petitions to Abercrombie and Fitch about their "Wong Brothers Laundry Service -- Two Wongs Can Make it White" t-shirt.
I remember being uncomfortable about being asked to sign the petition to Abercrombie and Fitch, because I didn't want to be one of those Asians who were militant and oversensitive and all up in arms about their Asian-ness.
I remember one person commenting to me, "Why are you so concerned with being Chinese? Why don't you just become American?" I didn't know how to respond at the time, but my question now is, "Why is being Chinese somehow antithetical to being American?" I'm sure it could be argued that since I was coming from Taiwan, it was different, but on the other hand... the constant touting of America as a melting pot shouldn't mean that cultural differences are melted away, that assimilation into the main culture is taken for granted.
When I was with my friends and they criticized the Asians who always sat together, I felt like the "good" Asian. The "good" Asian wouldn't self-segregate, would agree that racism didn't exist, would not talk about being Asian "all the time," would not talk about racism, would not constantly remind people that she was Asian. In short, the good Asian was the Asian who acted white.
I played this role throughout college, and even though no one explicitly told me so, I learned that talking about things I found racist or offensive was passe. I learned that talking too much about being Asian would mean that I would be thought of as Asian (not necessarily a problem) and only as Asian (definitely a problem). I learned that not talking about being Asian would mean that people would assume that my silence meant agreement, particularly when discussion turned toward "those other" Asians.
I'm reminded of the post![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
rilina made, in which she quotes Yamada Mitsuye as saying, "I had supposed that I was practicing passive resistance while being stereotyped, but it was so passive no one noticed I was resisting; it was so much my expected role that it ultimately rendered me invisible."
I had thought that being an Asian who wasn't sitting at the Asian table was a statement of colorblindness, a statement against self-segregation, a statement against racism. But I found that not only did people not notice that I was protesting, they assumed my complicity in white privilege. They assumed that because I was sitting there while they made remarks about other Asians, I agreed. In my silence, I gave up my voice and let it be used to support arguments that I didn't believe in.
No one ever made me do this. No one had to. My complicity in white privilege was so assumed that no one ever had to point it out or voice it, and my guess is, if I had ever tried to point it out, I would have been one of those oversensitive people who "cry racism at the drop of a hat." The ironic thing is, I didn't see why anyone would ever want to "cry racism at the drop of a hat." I had seen time and again that calling something racist would bring on so many personal attacks on being "oversensitive," "militant," "just like those femi-nazis," or "having no sense of humor," even when people criticized something as blatant as the Abercrombie and Fitch shirt.
In my experience, people don't "cry racism at the drop of a hat" because it spawns LJ discussions of 200+ comments, the tail end of which become increasingly vicious. People don't "cry racism at the drop of a hat" because it means other people will automatically write them off as Angry People of Color or People with Lots of White Liberal Guilt. People don't "cry racism at the drop of a hat" because the thought of confronting the thorny issues of race and racism in America in a public forum, in a casual conversation, in class, at work, anywhere is too touchy, makes people too uncomfortable.
More specifically, I don't "cry racism at the drop of a hat" because I am used to being ignored when I do. Just in the past few days, when I've mentioned racism in PotC 2 in real life, people have either completely ignored the fact that I've said it, or the same old arguments come out. I didn't post about racism because posting meant dealing with flame wars, no matter how carefully worded the post was. I didn't talk about racism because doing so meant losing the small amount of privilege that I did get to enjoy as an Asian who didn't sit at the Asian table.
I didn't realize until recently that this small gain, bought by silence, was no gain at all.
That's why I'm speaking out now; that's why I've been blogging about this with increasing frequency. It's because too often in my life, silence has been construed as consent. There have been too many instances in which I've let a racist comment or remark pass without challenging. There have been too many times I've come out of a movie wondering, "Why are all the protagonists white, and why do all the supporting roles with people of color play to stereotype?"
Speaking out is painful. In the past few years, when I spoke out against racism, it was fueled by rage and pain. I would run out of words; I would be incoherent with anger when my friends told me I was taking it too seriously. My friends wouldn't understand why I was personally insulted by their decision to not think about racism. In the end, it felt like a slap against me, because racism is a force that has been in my life ever since I've moved here and will continue to be a force in my life for as long as I'm a minority. It is, of course, a force in everyone's life, but some people can ignore it. So when my friends told me that they didn't think about racism, I heard, "I don't have to care about something that affects you and doesn't affect me." I heard, "I don't care about something that hurts you." I heard, "I don't care about you or your experiences if they inconvenience me."
Just in the past two months, speaking out has been painful. Comments to my posts saying that I am racist for speaking about racism hurt. Comments saying that people see Asians as white hurt. Comments saying that I am exaggerating my experiences for sympathy, that I am being too serious, that I am making things up, all these hurt. Speaking out is painful, but silence is worse.
Silence costs too much for me.
I'm sure just blogging or speaking out can be seen as a pat gesture, as preaching to the choir, as something you only do once to feel good about yourself and continue to ignore the other 51 weeks of the year.
First, I'd like to say: I feel alone when I speak out. I felt awkward when I started counting minorities at WisCon, because I didn't want to be one of the three Asians there. I felt alone every time I counted and no one else did. The worst part is, I didn't even realize how alone I felt, how much it felt like just my problem, untilcoffeeandink pointed out that people could have counted with me. I felt alone posting about mentioning the race divide in the comments to the cultural appropriation debate, I felt alone posting about race in PotC 2, especially when the storm of comments started to come in.
But I found out that even if I felt like I were posting alone, in the end, I wasn't. There were other people I could talk to about racism; there were other people blogging about it.
And so, why I don't think Intl. Blog Against Racism Week is a mere gesture:
Most of all, I want to say to those of you speaking out: you're not alone.
I read Sarah Dessen's Just Listen a few weeks ago, and while the title is about listening, the book is about the heroine learning to voice her feelings and her opinions, even when they may cause anger or disapproval. I was incredibly involved with Annabel's feelings and her constant silence, largely because I see so much of myself in her. It's gotten much easier for me to speak out about topics that involve me only on a personal level, but that's not what I wanted to talk about in this post.
I wanted to talk about why I'm trying to blog about race more, especially since both attempts to talk about race in my LJ have received quite a few comments to the effect that bringing up the topics of race and racism encroaches upon the attempt to be colorblind.
I don't mean to make this post all tragic and dramatic so that people will say, "Oh, that's awful, poor you!" I'm not trying to garner sympathy, but to show what racism has meant in my life and how it's affected me. I decided to post it after the Great Cultural Appropriation Debate of DOOM, and the PotC Debate of DOOM just cemented that decision. I want to counter the idea that racism is over, that we're all colorblind now.
Naturally, I wish it were that way. But I don't think it is.
This isn't meant to represent anyone's experience but my own. I realize that the privileges of being financially well-off and heterosexual temper a lot of my experiences, and that being a woman adds yet another layer of complexity. This isn't meant to denigrate people who suffer from classism, homophobism, sexism, or any of the other things that are wrong with society. Nor is it meant to represent the Asian-American experience as a whole, much less the minority experience, which is as rich and varied as the human experience (since, duh, it's a subset). And it most definitely isn't meant to draw attention away from the black experience, the Latino or Hispanic experience, or the Native American experience.
Also also, the experiences that I mention are my own, and as such, they consist of things that I remember most. People featured in these experiences may remember things differently. But I would like to ask people to really think about why I might remember these experiences differently, why they might mean different things to me, before refuting them.
Also also also, yes, I do think categorizing people in terms of race is problematic. On the other hand, because (I'm paraphrasing Frank Wu here, because I can't find the quote) while race is non-existent in scientific terms, racism does exist. Even if some people don't distinguish between a black person and a white person, other people will. And because racism exists, we cannot ignore race unless we also ignore the deleterious effects of racism.
I also (x4) hate to be paranoid and defensive, but given the frightening amount of comments that my two posts on the Great Cultural Appropriation Debate of DOOM and my post on Race and PotC 2 got, I'd like to ask people to really think before they comment, to see if their comments fall under How to Suppress Discussions on Racism, which is biting and beautiful. Unfortunately, I've seen examples of many points in all three of my posts above. And if your comments do meet those guidelines, please try asking yourself why they do, why comments like that are so pervasive, why they come up whenever discussions of racism come up. I'm not even saying to not make comments to that effect. I'm just asking that people think their comments first.
Finally, I am by no means the first person to talk about this or bring this up; people far more persuasive and thoughtful than me have been posting about this online for ages, and of course, there is a robust conversation about race going back a long time.
Most of my pre-college years were spent in Taiwan, where I didn't particularly have to think about racism, except on a more theoretical level. Of course, part of why I didn't have to think about racism was because I was Chinese, not an aboriginal inhabitant of Taiwan. Another part was because up until Chen Shuei-Bien was elected, I could live with my head in the clouds with regard to politics — the KMT was in power and the Taiwanese national movement wasn't as prominent as it is now. I was in the majority; I could afford not to worry.
The one thing I do remember from Taiwan was when my AP history teacher (white American) asked my class if we would continue and socialize with other Asians when we went to college, since most of us had gotten into colleges in America.
Most of the people in my class said yes, they would probably be joining Asian associations or clubs. I said no. My teacher argued that we should try to get a more diverse experience, and at the time, I agreed with him.
When I went to college, I did what I said. I had several screaming fights with my mom and my dad about not joining the Chinese association. I thought I was being anti-racist. In the end, because I didn't make a deliberate effort to try and befriend people of other races, the majority of my friends ended up being white.
This could be because of my college, which was much less diverse than most. And I know many people who claim to have lots of friends of other races. But I remember
coffeeandink telling me that it's very common for people to overestimate the number of people of color or women in a room, so I wonder. The very fact that I do wonder is telling in and of itself.I remember comments on why all the Asian people self-segregated and sat at their own table. I remember the one regularly racially-integrated table being called derogatory names. The comments about the racially-integrated table were because they frequently left dirty dishes at the table, but I still wonder if there was disguised vitriol. I wonder this because there were so many comments around me about people who were "overly sensitive" about racism or sexism, so much routine mockery of editorials in the college paper on the harmful experiences of Sikh students being called "Osama bin Laden" in shopping malls, mockery of petitions to Abercrombie and Fitch about their "Wong Brothers Laundry Service -- Two Wongs Can Make it White" t-shirt.
I remember being uncomfortable about being asked to sign the petition to Abercrombie and Fitch, because I didn't want to be one of those Asians who were militant and oversensitive and all up in arms about their Asian-ness.
I remember one person commenting to me, "Why are you so concerned with being Chinese? Why don't you just become American?" I didn't know how to respond at the time, but my question now is, "Why is being Chinese somehow antithetical to being American?" I'm sure it could be argued that since I was coming from Taiwan, it was different, but on the other hand... the constant touting of America as a melting pot shouldn't mean that cultural differences are melted away, that assimilation into the main culture is taken for granted.
When I was with my friends and they criticized the Asians who always sat together, I felt like the "good" Asian. The "good" Asian wouldn't self-segregate, would agree that racism didn't exist, would not talk about being Asian "all the time," would not talk about racism, would not constantly remind people that she was Asian. In short, the good Asian was the Asian who acted white.
I played this role throughout college, and even though no one explicitly told me so, I learned that talking about things I found racist or offensive was passe. I learned that talking too much about being Asian would mean that I would be thought of as Asian (not necessarily a problem) and only as Asian (definitely a problem). I learned that not talking about being Asian would mean that people would assume that my silence meant agreement, particularly when discussion turned toward "those other" Asians.
I'm reminded of the post
rilina made, in which she quotes Yamada Mitsuye as saying, "I had supposed that I was practicing passive resistance while being stereotyped, but it was so passive no one noticed I was resisting; it was so much my expected role that it ultimately rendered me invisible."I had thought that being an Asian who wasn't sitting at the Asian table was a statement of colorblindness, a statement against self-segregation, a statement against racism. But I found that not only did people not notice that I was protesting, they assumed my complicity in white privilege. They assumed that because I was sitting there while they made remarks about other Asians, I agreed. In my silence, I gave up my voice and let it be used to support arguments that I didn't believe in.
No one ever made me do this. No one had to. My complicity in white privilege was so assumed that no one ever had to point it out or voice it, and my guess is, if I had ever tried to point it out, I would have been one of those oversensitive people who "cry racism at the drop of a hat." The ironic thing is, I didn't see why anyone would ever want to "cry racism at the drop of a hat." I had seen time and again that calling something racist would bring on so many personal attacks on being "oversensitive," "militant," "just like those femi-nazis," or "having no sense of humor," even when people criticized something as blatant as the Abercrombie and Fitch shirt.
In my experience, people don't "cry racism at the drop of a hat" because it spawns LJ discussions of 200+ comments, the tail end of which become increasingly vicious. People don't "cry racism at the drop of a hat" because it means other people will automatically write them off as Angry People of Color or People with Lots of White Liberal Guilt. People don't "cry racism at the drop of a hat" because the thought of confronting the thorny issues of race and racism in America in a public forum, in a casual conversation, in class, at work, anywhere is too touchy, makes people too uncomfortable.
More specifically, I don't "cry racism at the drop of a hat" because I am used to being ignored when I do. Just in the past few days, when I've mentioned racism in PotC 2 in real life, people have either completely ignored the fact that I've said it, or the same old arguments come out. I didn't post about racism because posting meant dealing with flame wars, no matter how carefully worded the post was. I didn't talk about racism because doing so meant losing the small amount of privilege that I did get to enjoy as an Asian who didn't sit at the Asian table.
I didn't realize until recently that this small gain, bought by silence, was no gain at all.
That's why I'm speaking out now; that's why I've been blogging about this with increasing frequency. It's because too often in my life, silence has been construed as consent. There have been too many instances in which I've let a racist comment or remark pass without challenging. There have been too many times I've come out of a movie wondering, "Why are all the protagonists white, and why do all the supporting roles with people of color play to stereotype?"
Speaking out is painful. In the past few years, when I spoke out against racism, it was fueled by rage and pain. I would run out of words; I would be incoherent with anger when my friends told me I was taking it too seriously. My friends wouldn't understand why I was personally insulted by their decision to not think about racism. In the end, it felt like a slap against me, because racism is a force that has been in my life ever since I've moved here and will continue to be a force in my life for as long as I'm a minority. It is, of course, a force in everyone's life, but some people can ignore it. So when my friends told me that they didn't think about racism, I heard, "I don't have to care about something that affects you and doesn't affect me." I heard, "I don't care about something that hurts you." I heard, "I don't care about you or your experiences if they inconvenience me."
Just in the past two months, speaking out has been painful. Comments to my posts saying that I am racist for speaking about racism hurt. Comments saying that people see Asians as white hurt. Comments saying that I am exaggerating my experiences for sympathy, that I am being too serious, that I am making things up, all these hurt. Speaking out is painful, but silence is worse.
Silence costs too much for me.
I'm sure just blogging or speaking out can be seen as a pat gesture, as preaching to the choir, as something you only do once to feel good about yourself and continue to ignore the other 51 weeks of the year.
First, I'd like to say: I feel alone when I speak out. I felt awkward when I started counting minorities at WisCon, because I didn't want to be one of the three Asians there. I felt alone every time I counted and no one else did. The worst part is, I didn't even realize how alone I felt, how much it felt like just my problem, until
coffeeandink pointed out that people could have counted with me. I felt alone posting about mentioning the race divide in the comments to the cultural appropriation debate, I felt alone posting about race in PotC 2, especially when the storm of comments started to come in. But I found out that even if I felt like I were posting alone, in the end, I wasn't. There were other people I could talk to about racism; there were other people blogging about it.
And so, why I don't think Intl. Blog Against Racism Week is a mere gesture:
- If someone else in my social group had spoken out about these things, I would have said something as well. Or, at least, I hope I would have. It's difficult to be the first person to break the silence, particularly when you're criticizing something many people are enjoying. But there were enough comments in the PotC2 post and the cultural appropriation posts saying that seeing people speak out made a difference and helped them feel less afraid to speak out that I think just speaking out is helpful. You can't fix anything until you acknowledge that it's broken in the first place.
- Given that fandom is generally seen as a liberal haven, talking about racism can very much be seen as preaching to the choir. I thought it was preaching to the choir until the Great Cultural Appropriation Debate of DOOM, and this was further cemented by the PotC 2 thing. I remember most discussions of race in the Whedonverse getting flame-y in a way that discussions on feminism didn't. I hope I'm wrong. I hope my experiences aren't the norm.
- My other plea is for participants to blog against racism or to speak out against racism not just today, not just this week, but every day. I say this with the caveat that sometimes it's too tiring to do. Sometimes you need to rest, to not be embroiled in conflict all the time. But the point is, racism still exists, and because we all have a race (or two, or many) that we can identify with, it affects all of us. And I do mean all. Black, white, Asian, Hispanic, Native American, interracial — all voices help. The more people there are speaking out against racism, the less the burden on one specific person. More importantly, it means more voices against all injustice, because speaking out should encompass speaking out against classism, sexism, homophobia, ageism, and ableism as well.
Most of all, I want to say to those of you speaking out: you're not alone.
no subject
First things first, however. I want to say that I admire you for the stand you are taking and your refusal to back down in the face of an utterly ridiculous amount of people sticking their fingers in their ears and trying to yell "lalala" loud enough to drown out people trying to talk seriously about race issues. I have really enjoyed the sheer number of thought provoking posts that have come out on these topics since WisCon. I hope everyone who has spoken out will continue to do so, and that more and more people do so as well.
Anyway.
My assumption is that the reason you are hurt by the statement that "Asians are white" is because it feels like a complete denial of your own identity, subsuming you against your wishes, at the expense of important aspects of your personhood, into the white collective. Or, as we like to call ourselves, The Borg. I think most anybody would find that hurtful.
However, I don't think that's what people mean when they say that. I think the real meaning behind that phrase comes from the harmful conflation between race and class. I believe what they mean to say is that "we perceive the Asian minority group as having economic and educational status equal to that of whites, whereas we perceive other minority groups as not." Because, yes, of course, there are harmful racial stereotypes about Asians. Female Asian fetishism and the stereotype of Asian subservience are particularly vile.
But the stereotype of "is inherently good at math and science" is barely even in the same ballpark as the stereotypes of "is poor, uneducated, and predisposed to criminality" that exist about blacks and Hispanics. My American culture hive mind suggests that Random Asian Person Walking Down the Street is probably (or will be perceived as being) college-educated, holding a white collar job, and being basically middle class. (Atleast, on the East Coast this is true. My feeling is that the degree of racism is directly proportional the the population density of that minority group, so perhaps this is different on the West Coast where Asians are a much bigger percentage) That same perception of "being middle class" does not exist for many other racial minority groups, which is why, I think, people will try to draw the distinction. But instead of doing this by bringing class issues into the discussion they fall prey to the conflation and try to use racial shorthand instead.
I'm sorry you were hurt by those statements (as well as the many other lovely pieces of vitriole that have cropped up in this extended discussion) and I certainly can't claim to speak for the commenters, but I think the intent was to make a statement about class, not to deny your identity and sense of self.
So that's my comment. I hope I was able to be atleast halfway coherent.
no subject
I was hurt by it because I got failed in English for being experimental, and the instructor assumed that being Asian, I was bad at English. I was hurt by it because it was assumed I'd do well in higher math, when I really needed some help. Asians get hurt by it when it's assumed that they're strong in technical but not people skills, and passed over for promotions to management.
My brother was hurt by it because he would probably have been happier being tracked for vo-tech classes, but "Asians don't do that sort of work, they're all in brainy fields".
"Positive stereotypes" might not land a person in jail, but they are a sort of prison of their own.
no subject
no subject
1) You're right, one of the reasons I am hurt when I hear that people see Asians as white is because it feels like a denial of my identity. It's particularly touchy given my own personal experiences with not being fully American in terms of culture, having grown up in Taiwan. I want to be Asian, and I want to be able to enjoy being Asian, and it hurt a lot when one friend in college asked me why I had to be so Chinese.
2) Another reason is because I feel that they are denying my experiences as an Asian. More specifically, I feel that they are denying my experiences of discrimination as an Asian. "I see Asians as white" can become an argument of "I see Asians as white; therefore, you are being treated as white, and as such, you do not experience discrimination, and any time you say you do, you're just whining." It can effectively become a way to say that racism against Asians doesn't exist.
3) You mention the economic and educational status, and you're right. I think a lot of people do mean that when they say "I see Asians as white." My problems with this are: why does economic status and educational status equate white? Are they implying that somehow Asians as Asians are less likely to succeed economically and educationally and that only by being "white" can someone succeed in that way?
4) "I see Asians as white" as an example of the model minority stereotype: This is harmful to Asians because it assumes an experience that not all of us share. Personally, I get annoyed by it because I'm very much a liberal arts person. It can limit Asian students or lead teachers to ignore problems Asians are having in math or science because they assume that Asians will just be good at it. Also, much like #3, people can use it to discount Asian experiences of racism because it's not an obviously harmful stereotype.
4a) (whoo! I'm getting into letters now! Sorry about the length!) Frank Wu (who I seem to be quoting a lot these days) says in Yellow that the "positive" aspect of the model minority stereotype can quickly be turned on Asians. If there's a news article on how jobs in America are going toward Indian immigrants, the model minority stereotype can soon become "Asians are too smart. They're attempting to take over the country by getting engineering degrees, then working longer for less money." Or it can be, "Asian musicians just don't quite cut it; they learn everything by memorization and lack the emotion of other musicians."
4b) Not only is the model minority stereotype harmful to Asians, it's harmful to all minorities. People can use Asians as the example and say to blacks, Hispanics and Native Americans, "Look what the Asians are doing! Why aren't you more like them?" Insert ensuing interracial resentment. The model minority stereotype is much less harmful than the black thug stereotype, but it's harmful nonetheless.
Er, does that make sense? Anyway, those are the reasons that I can think of on why "Asians are like whites" hurt. Well, 4a and 4b are more on the model minority stereotype, but 1-4 is on why it hurts. And I do get that people usually (I hope!) don't intend for it to hurt, which paradoxically makes it hurt more.
I hope this helped, and again, thank you for asking.
no subject
I have no idea why this confusion between race and class exists. As you say, it's harmful and insulting and so often false. To make a guess, I would say that people thoughtlessly fall into this mindset because of many different factors in conjunction, including (but I'm sure not limited to):
1. Demographics. Everyone sees the intersections of race and class, but some people (a lot of people?) extrapolate that data further than they should. We know minority groups are disproportionately represented in lower economic classes and although I haven't got a citation, my assumption is that middle class suburbia is a majority white and that the very top economic bracket is probably almost all white. People then observe these after effects of institutionalized racism and in their minds begin to, well, racially profile. I live in a small Italian Catholic town right next door to a poor urban center that is predominately Puerto Rican and black. I see it a lot. Of course it's wrong, but I think that that unexamined behavior is one reason people associate white = middle class.
2. Cultural capital. I hesitate to bring it into the discussion because it's not as though it makes things LESS confusing, but those are the terms on which I'd like to respond to your question of "Are they implying that somehow Asians as Asians are less likely to succeed economically and educationally and that only by being "white" can someone succeed in that way?"
I first encountered the term cultural capital in Philippe Bourgeois' In Search of Respect, which you may have read. I think it's a standard Anthropology 101 text these days. It just means those qualities that afford people respect from their peer group, things like mode of dress, speech, money, degree of education, or maybe how manicured you keep your front lawn. Obviously what people consider to be cultural capital differs radically according to race, religion, class, nationality, gender, geography... etc.
What does it mean for someone to "be white" in a sense other than the visual? I think that would be to conform to the cultural capital that is associated with white people, as opposed to another group. I say "associated with" because we all know there's no such thing as real cohesion. Things may be valued by people's peer group that they as individuals completely disregard, or vice versa. While I don't claim to know
I think there is hegemony at work that takes the cultural capital of whites and the cultural capital of people in the middle class and says that the two are one and the same. And I think this can go in two different, sad ways. The first is as you suggest: that some people believe others can't or shouldn't rise in status unless they repudiate any cultural capital specific to minority groups. I think (hope) that this is relatively scarce.
The second is probably Borg racism, I think. That people already in the middle class who value middle class cultural capital face a crisis of identity because of the hegemony at work that says default middle class cultural capital is actually WHITE cultural capital. Because, as we all know, in America, default = white male.
So, to actually try to come to a point through all this rambling, I don't think people are meaning to imply that others can only succeed at being middle class by "being white". I think they're confused. I think they haven't sat down to dissect their privileged thought process to realize that people can conform to one without the other.
In any case, regarding all of your points: I understand what you're saying and I agree 100%. Thank you very much for taking the time to post a meaningful reply.