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National Diversity Forum
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Mission
| History | Current Initiatives | |
by Robert Lee
A number of years ago, my
collaborator and I were invited to present excerpts from our latest show as
part of a festival of new musical theatre work. The piece centered on an
ambitious, bigoted Chinese immigrant whose relentless pursuit of the American
dream flattens everything and everyone in his way. The following day, we heard
from the artistic director of one theatre that his audiences were “not
ready for an Asian show,” only to read an hour later an article in the
New York Times dismissing the show as “yet another set of anecdotes from
the annals of immigration.” We were mystified; we had somehow succeeded
in being too alien and too familiar at the same time.
In retrospect, this
perplexing response sums up perfectly the dilemma I believe Asian Americans
have faced since the very beginning, regardless of profession. In a world where
societies tend to define and understand themselves
through grand dichotomies—black/white, feminine/masculine, wrong/right,
evil/good, East/West—we are, it seems, an oxymoron.
Since time immemorial,
humankind has sought to make sense of its position in the cosmos through
opposition. Our values and mores are significant inasmuch as someone else does
not share them. What does it mean to be godly if there are no heathens in the
world? Where’s the satisfaction in being right when there is no one to be
wrong? What is “goodness” without at least the illusion of evil?
The East is only as enlightened, wise, logical and ordered as the
“barbaric” West is not. The rugged individualism and openhearted
compassion that are the providence of modern Western civilization mean little
without the cold, tradition-bound, anonymous masses of the East as a
counterbalance. In short, every society feeds on its antithesis: anyone who
doubts this need only turn to the international section of any major U.S.
newspaper to witness the ongoing subtle and not-so-subtle demonization
of China now that our previous enemy in the East—the U.S.S.R.—has
been vanquished.
And therein lies the problem, I believe, for Asian Americans: their
existence flies in the face of a worldview that has lasted for centuries. As
much as we may wish to deny it, it seems on some deep level the idea of someone
being Asian (Eastern) and American (Western) at the same time is about as easy
to grasp as the idea of a blade that is simultaneously dull and sharp, or a
chess piece that is simultaneously white and black.
So, how does all of this
translate into real-world behavior? How does a mind, so conditioned to see the
world in terms of either/or, resolve the apparent paradox of the “Asian
American”?
It can choose to blur the
line between race and nationality, in effect replacing the
“American” side of the equation with something less contradictory.
A black, white or Latino man in a suit passes us on a street in Midtown
Manhattan; how likely are we to jump to the immediate conclusion that he is a
businessman visiting from South Africa, New Zealand or Peru, respectively? But
consider a similarly dressed “oriental” passing us on the same
street; now, how likely are we to assume immediately that he was born and
raised in the United States? How many of us have not found ourselves partaking
in the following exchange at least once in our lifetimes, no matter how highly
educated and liberal-minded we consider ourselves to be?
HIGHLY
EDUCATED, LIBERAL-MINDED INDIVIDUAL: So, where are you from?
ASIAN
AMERICAN: Detroit.
HIGHLY EDUCATED, LIBERAL-MINDED INDIVIDUAL: No, I
mean originally.
The opposite can happen as
well: the subconscious mind attempts to resolve the “Asian
American” conundrum by focusing exclusively on the latter part and
ignoring the former, leading at least in part to the “honorary
white” status conferred so often upon Asian Americans, and the frequent
curious claim “Asians are not a real
minority”—a well-meaning platitude which has more often than not
opened the door for racial discrimination against Asian Americans without
acknowledgment, guilt or even awareness; after all, how can anyone be racist
against someone who is not a “real” minority? Witness the recent
controversy over Rosie O’Donnell’s remarks on “The
View.” Personally, I believe she meant no offense; but the fact someone
as intelligent and well-informed as she didn’t realize “ching chong” was offensive
and hurtful to Asian Americans (what is “ching chong,” after all, if not a verbal weapon to remind
people of Asian heritage of their inherent foreignness) and the fact so many of
her fans leapt to her defense by saying Asian Americans were being too
sensitive and should just “get over it” more than prove my point.
Of course, a third option
is to ignore the paradox altogether. If one wishes not to deal with the moral
implications of a war, one may simply deny the war exists; likewise, if one
wishes not to deal with the “Asian American” issue, one may choose
to ignore the existence of Asian Americans. It has become somewhat of a game
for me whenever I come across an article or listen to a speech about racism or
diversity, to see whether Asian Americans are even warranted a mention.
You’d be surprised how seldom we are.
Now, I should say I am
currently working with a wonderfully supportive producer for whom my Asian
American background is nothing less than something to be admired and embraced,
on a project for which others might have considered my background a liability.
I teach at the Tisch School of the Arts with a
faculty committed to creating the most inclusive, nurturing and professional
musical theatre writing program in the world. I am a proud artistic associate
at a theatre that recognizes the medium’s important historical legacy of
giving voice to the disenfranchised, and is determined to continue that
tradition. I have been blessed to work with countless producers, artistic
directors, directors, music directors, actors and other theatre professionals
who have made me feel a vital and welcome part of this fantastic playground.
And yet, I have also
witnessed and experienced the above mechanisms in action, time and again. But I
believe there is little to be gained from crying racism or paying lip service
to diversity if society cannot be made to understand the deeper specific issues
involved. As long as we try to sum up the challenges facing all minorities in
this country under the simple rubric of “racism” or
“intolerance,” we fight a losing battle, chasing after the symptoms
rather than targeting the disease. The only way I know to facilitate this
understanding is to engage people in discussion, through my work, my conduct
and my very presence in the business: I have had colleagues, friends and loved
ones ask whether I’ve ever thought about writing “a non-Asian
piece”; I explain to them since my collaborator and I have only written
about Asians living in the United States, I think of our shows as
“American pieces.” Said collaborator and I have been accused of
writing a character in a manner which was “too western” and not
“Asian enough”; we decided we simply hadn’t captured the
right emotional tone for the song and rewrote it accordingly, silencing any
further concerns about the moment. I have been the invisible partner in the
room when collaborating with a non-Asian writer on a decidedly
“non-Asian” piece; now, I make it a point to speak up in meetings
and rehearsals whatever the situation... frequently.
And to Asian and Asian American students and colleagues worrying that writing
from their own personal experience will lead to marginalization as an
“ethnic writer,” I say I understand—but someone’s got
to be on the front line.
In the end, the way I see
it is I can either crash someone else’s party or throw one of my own. The
latter might require a lot more time and effort, but at least I get to choose
the music. To me, that’s the choice when you’re one of the
“between” people, the fish/fowls, the ones who tend to fall between
the cracks. Me, I prefer to think of it as “living on the edge.”