INSIDE:
NEWS/STORIES/ARTICLES
Book Reviews
Columns/Opinion/Cartoon
Films
International
National
NW/Local
Recipes
Special A.C.E. Stories
Online Paper (PDF)
NW RESOURCE GUIDE
Archives
Consulates
NW Job Market
Organizations
Scholarships
Special Sections
Upcoming
The Asian Reporter Twelfth
Annual Scholarship & Awards Banquet -
April 23, 2010
May 15, 2010
Asian Reporter Info
AR Merchandise
Contact Us
Subscription Info. & Back
Issues
ASIA LINKS
Asian Studies
Currency Exchange
More Asian Links
Public Holidays
Time Zones
Copyright © 2000 - 2010
AR Home
My Turnby Marie Lo |
.JPG) |
From The Asian Reporter, V19, #14 (April 7, 2009), page 6.
The power of representation
Every time I teach a course on Asian- American film and video, there is always one student who comes up to me after class and tells me, "I didn’t know …"
I nod sympathetically because I understand the sense of disbelief, the relief, the anger — the confusing and conflicting emotions encapsulated by the phrase, "I didn’t know."
I didn’t know there was such a rich and expansive archive of Asian-American works out there, and I was angry all this had been hidden from me. I often wonder how my outlook on life would have been different had there been strong, powerful images of Asian Americans in the media as opposed to the tired old stereotypes.
Growing up, I craved to see images of people like me on the big screen or on television. I remember one sleepover. I was 13, and we were over at my friend Barb’s to watch Sixteen Candles. I pined to be like Molly Ringwald. I was sure everything in my life would fall into place if I just had those freckles and those cute clothes. What jarred me out of my fantasy of identification and possibility was Long Duk Dong, the sex-crazed foreign exchange student who was the film’s object of ridicule. His arrival on the screen, announced by a gong, became a constant reminder of my difference. I spent the evening trying to become as invisible as I could, hoping my friends wouldn’t suddenly see I was Asian like the person on the screen.
A lot has changed since 1984, but occasionally, events erupt that remind us we still have a long way to go. A recent example is the racist student e-publication directed against the incoming president of Dartmouth College, Dr. Jim Yong Kim, the first Asian-American president of an Ivy League school. "Unless ‘Jim Yong Kim’ means ‘I love Freedom’ in Chinese, I don’t want anything to do with him," the e-mail read. "Dartmouth is America, not Panda Garden Rice Village Restaurant."
The constant refrain in many of these racist representations is that Asian Americans are perpetual foreigners. But the struggle for representation goes beyond the portrayal of Asian Americans as un-American. The struggle for representation is about whose lives are worthy of being represented, whose history is valued enough to be preserved, whose artistic visions resonant enough to be nurtured.
And we as a community must do our part to make sure we are the ones telling our stories. It’s one thing to challenge the racist stereotypes of Asian Americans, but it cannot stop there. We must promote and support our unique perspectives as well. As one of my good friends has said many times before, if we don’t speak for ourselves, someone else will.
This is why, every April, my girlfriends and I pile into a car and hit the road to Eugene for our yearly pilgrimage to the DisOrient Asian American Film Festival.
We stay the weekend, renting a motel so we can feast on all the new works by our fellow Asian Americans. Afterward, we stay up late to dissect the films and chat about our lives. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, we get to meet the filmmakers.
What makes the festival so special is that it is truly grassroots. Started in 2005 by a group of activists and educators, the festival brings together many generations of community members as well filmmakers. It is one of the few opportunities in Oregon to see and hear so many voices of Asian America under one roof.
The festival is organized by volunteers and is a labor of love for everyone involved. My own involvement with DisOrient has ranged from taking part on a 2007 panel called "What is Asian American Cinema?" to appearing in a couple of short films. Last year, the radio collective I am a part of, APA Compass, served as a media sponsor. This year I am honored to be a member of the Jury Prize Committee.
My favorite part of the festival is watching the films by Eugene/Springfield Asian-American middle- and high-school students. Their perspectives and stories are the ones we need to foster. And if there is one festival that hits home how important the power of self-representation is, this is it. I am not embarrassed to admit that more than once I have become teary while watching the works by these insightful, creative, self-possessed youth.
No film can capture the heterogeneity of Asian-American experiences. And no film should. We need to have a wide variety of representations out there so no one film, no one character comes to speak for all of us.
During these difficult economic times, it is more important than ever to support these stories that would otherwise be unheard. The power of representation only comes when we take responsibility for it.
The DisOrient Asian American Festival runs April 17 through 19. To learn more, visit <www.disorientfilm.org>.