unseen

I grew up with long nights of listening to my dad's stories about Korea and the tragic erasure of its culture and history over centuries. So, I have always looked at history as something that needs to be told correctly and protected as an important part of people's identities. Many emphasize the importance of history in order to prevent repeating it in the wrong ways. For me, the importance of history is not only in the lessons we can learn from it, but the fact that we humans require an understanding of where we came from in order to acknowledge where we are now, and how we belong in the world at this current moment.

Having grown up in America, I was always left disappointed by the unapparent lack of American history, in classrooms and in media, that includes the Asian demographic in it. (I say unapparent because it's so non-existent that no one knows it's even missing.) In hind sight, it drives me insane to think about the course work in my history classes, especially considering that the courses I took were higher level and were responsible for teaching me and my peers everything we should know about American and world history. But, instead, we learned extensively about European history, European immigration to America, and European American culture, experiences, and politics. With that, I have also learned about slavery and a basic portion of Black American history. But, I've found that no matter how little the textbooks addressed international affairs with China, Korea, Vietnam, India, and Japan, even less of that was ever mentioned about the Asian population living in America throughout the country's history. This left a huge gap in my understanding of how people from Asia ever came to exist in America, which in return, left me clueless about how I am American. And, sadly, I, for some time, believed that the gap in information was due to there really being no history to be told.

So, though I was born and raised in New Jersey, my entire life, I grew up feeling like I was simply transplanted onto the armpit of America with zero understanding of where I came from. And even though my dad told my sisters and I so much about Korean history as well as stories of his life in America, it didn't help me ground myself in where I belong in American history. So, while I'm incredibly grateful I did at least get these more relevant history lessons at home, I was extremely deprived of understanding the complete history of my people: people of Asian descent living in America, whether as immigrants or as native born citizens, throughout the country's existence. Hence, I had no sense of belonging and even less sense of identity.

Looking back, I remember that the Chinese railroad workers were mentioned once in class to exemplify the use of cheap labor, and then, we, "Asian Americans," disappeared for the rest of history until, suddenly, a focus on the Japanese was heightened during WWII after which all people of Japanese descent were interned in camps. And, following this, we disappeared once again, until the recent uprising of crimes against Asians during the pandemic...all of which, by the way, are not only a sparse representation of our history, but a completely skewed one which stereotypes us as cheap, foreign, and threatening. Not to mention that it also associates the umbrella term "Asian" with only two main countries: China and Japan. On the contrary, though, not only is the true history way more expansive in terms of origins, but also in terms of the contribution of Asian culture, economics, and people to the growth and development of America.

In essence, while the majority of my classmates were learning about their own history, I couldn't say that I felt like I was learning about mine. This, I think, is what has led to so much confusion within and outside of the "Asian American" community about not only what it means to be "Asian American" but also how to be "Asian American". As in ... Because so much of our history has been undefined in everyone's eyes (including our own), we, individually, bare the burden of defining who "Asians" are, in our every day lives. And that's why representation is such an important yet unfair weight that the few "Asian Americans" in the limelight carry.

It isn't until recent years that Asian Americans have made it in main stream media more prevalently, whether in politics, business, entertainment, sports, etc.. Particularly, Hollywood has been seeing more TV shows and films about "Asian American" stories, from Fresh Off the Boat to Crazy Rich Asians. And, there has been a bit more effort in casting Asian actors. All of this is great, except that the stories being told are of a singular, comical narrative. And, the actors are always playing two-dimensional characters who are either irrelevant (having very few lines and little purpose), or, cannot be separated from being Asian. We witness this in Glenn, from The Walking Dead, who is played by Steven Yeun, an Asian American actor. Glenn is the only one of the main characters in the show with zero back story, and, therefore, little character development. And, unfortunately, we also see it in the recent marvel movie, Shang Chi. Played by Simi Liu, Shang Chi is known as the first Asian marvel character, and, instead of being a super hero, he is the Asian super hero, with a back story rooted in immigration, being Chinese, and having the stereotypically strained relationship with a stoic father, the antagonist. Like, what? When will we get away from stereotypes as the main representation of Asian people? And, when will Asian people be just simply people?

. . .

Thankfully, this summer, I happened to come across the New York Asian Film Festival when looking for something to do in the city. (Which, by the way, I'm disappointed I had not known about sooner!) And I thank God (or whoever is out there) and the random date I had for bringing me to the film, Snakehead. It was completely happenstance, and, had the stars not aligned properly, I likely would never have come across this film,... which is so unfortunate.

It took Director Evan Leong 7 years to produce Snakehead, and let me tell you, this film is one to be celebrated. It is the first film I watched that made me feel reflected as a complete and full human being on screen. Though I'm not a Chinese gangster or immigrant, I related with the characters on screen because they have a range of emotions, flaws, bad ass abilities, and, quite simply, colorful personalities. They are self-motivated characters. They have deep wounds. And they have a future. Not only are the characters dynamic, but the settings, from Chinatown to China, are not at all exoticised. And, most importantly for me, throughout the film, there was no doubt that all of the people, places, and stories in it are American.

Last Friday, the film hit major theaters on the West Coast and is distributed online. I was, to say the least, confused that the film isn't being played on the East Coast. I mean, it takes place in Chinatown for goodness sake! So, I bought the film on Amazon to watch it again. Watching it for the second time, my appreciation for it has deepened. This incredible story of Asian women is unlike anything I've ever seen in American media. It's the story you find only if you dig deep, or if it is already actually a personal story to you. If you haven't already, I fully recommend you watching the film. If it isn't for having a greater understanding of Asian representation, at least go and enjoy it for every other aspect of an amazing film. From the script to the production, this piece will have you on the edge of your seats.

Although it is just one piece that's been placed in the gap of my knowledge of "Asian American" history, I owe the cast and crew of Snakehead a tremendous thanks for doing something none of my history teachers were ever able to do: It made me feel seen.

Cheers!,

Michelle

photos by me from new york city's chinatown