My name is Karla Leung and I am 19 years old freshman in college. I am what I believe lower middle class, having grown up in a cookie-cutter suburb right outside of Portland, Oregon. I am physically capable, although I get the occasional migraine. I am not religious, but I would consider my parents are religious in the lowest regard; my dad is Buddhist and my mom is Christian. Because of this conflict, they have never taught my brother or me anything about their respected religions. I am straight and a cisgender female.
Some things not included on the circle are that I am also a first-generation Chinese American; both my parents grew up in poverty. However, they soon began to make more money and were able to immigrate to the US in the hopes of pursuing the American dream. My family’s story is similar to many other first-generation Americans’ stories, making me grateful for what they had gone through to give me the opportunity to be here. This aspect has had the most significant impact on my life, as because of Chinese roots, they have raised me with traditional Chinese values and experiences. I have grown up drinking herbal soups when I get sick, being yelled at in Chinese, and being told how lucky I am to live in America. Coming to American not knowing English, they had to sacrifice education to work laborious jobs to provide for themselves and now my brother and I. Because of this, they remind me to work hard to someday achieve a career they never had the opportunity to.
However, being an Asian American also creates a weird middle ground between Chinese and American. I was never taught to read or speak Chinese, although I can understand fairly well. For my whole life, I have grown up in a household that was extremely traditional — we celebrate Chinese New Year, we practice feng shui, and we eat traditional foods. But despite this, I have always been culturally influenced by American culture that taught me western ideas. Therefore, I’ve constantly been stuck in the middle between being Chinese and being American. My own dad constantly calls me a banana — yellow on the outside and white on the inside. However, I am by no means completely American — I would never belong in a Panhellenic sorority or know what to order in an Olive Garden.
In media, Asian Americans are largely unrepresented and this fact is obvious. In the past, although they are represented, they are often slightly racist or stereotypical, such as in Rush Hour, with Jackie Chan’s thick accent and obliviousness to American culture. For some reason, Asian girls always seem to require a streak of colorful hair to establish themselves as Americanized (think Tina Cohen-Chang of Glee, Knives Chau of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, or Yukio of Deadpool2). Often, when Asian-American girls are portrayed, they are often depicted as only Asian in appearance, not identity.
However, more recent productions have had an uptick in Asian representation; Crazy Rich Asians and To All the Boys I Loved Before come to mind. In particular, the character of Lara Jean in To All the Boys I Loved Before represented me because she was portrayed as a kind of awkward, boy crazy Asian American girl that I could relate to — she even lives in Portland Oregon, my hometown. However, it wasn’t a complete match. For one, I’m not really into white boys. But Lara Jean is also far more “whitewashed” than I am, and when I watched the movie I was given the impression that she was essentially an Asian actress playing a white girl. Apparently, Lara Jean’s family is supposed to be half Asian, even though they all appear white while Lara Jean appears full Asian. Similar to the other portrayals previously mentioned, there is little detail in the story to refer to her being culturally Asian. Although it is great that there are more roles being given to Asian people, especially Asian women, in the pursuit of diversifying cast and representation, I did not feel like the character of Lara Jean represented my identity culturally.
When I watched the Pixar short Bao, however, I felt much more culturally represented and the story accurately portrayed specific experiences in my life. I have the memories of folding and steaming xiao long baos with my mom in the kitchen for hours. As the scenes progress, I could see myself going grocery shopping at Asian markets with my mom, beginning to stray away from my parents, and believing my mom as being overprotective. And I have also been a bad daughter to my mom, not appreciating her cooking, or her in general. Although likely most children can relate, depicting this idea with a Chinese twist gave me a new feeling of cultural representation that I never had. The short specifically called back to childhood memories and my Chinese culture, and strangely enough, I felt represented by a dumpling.
an inkling 