Lynne Guey

the product of immigrant strife and bourgeois achievement. i seek ataraxia; stories warrant my devotion.

Tiger Mania

I was a little annoyed with the hubbub over Amy Chua’s Tiger Mom book and never felt compelled to comment.  Different parenting styles for different folks, people. Isn’t that called diversity? Don’t we profess to accept that?

The most recent “Paper Tigers” piece by Wesley Yang in New York Mag caused me to roll my eyes once again.  So, it was a surprise when I breezed through the entire 12-page feature.  It weirdly resonated with me, perhaps because I once was caught in the paper tiger syndrome. This time I felt compelled to comment, mainly because not doing so would further the argument that Asian Americans are helpless individuals who can’t speak their mind.  This isn’t true, obviously.  Well, maybe not.  It goes without saying that we are all unique individuals, but there’s a reason that overlapping characteristics within ethnic groups emerge (stereotypes).  Patterns in group behavior naturally arise because of exposure to similar stimuli and values.  

As I read the article, I wanted to disassociate myself from all these group characteristics imposed on the Asian race. Quiet?  Not me. Disciplined? At one point, yes, but college changed that. Dignified? Heck no.  But, wait.  Sure, I am bubbly and talkative.  Yet that could be just a front-  I’d still prefer a night in with books over a forced social situation.  I brush off undesired tasks but when pushed to complete something that really piques my interest, an inane work ethic kicks in. And while I’m not one to let anyone tell me what to do, my crude disregard for propriety quickly dissipates when placed back within the rising steam of the rice cooker nestled in the recesses of the warm Chinese kitchen. Alas, at home, all hope of individuality seems to be thrown out the window.  Don’t put it past me to walk around the mall dressed in pigtails and high socks as a 21-year old simply because Mom, with no better reason than “you would look cute”, told me to.  (I exaggerate, slightly.)

Though I don’t purposely strive to be Asian American in any stereotypical way, I cannot separate this face from my identity.  I don’t categorize my attributes as specifically Asian or non-Asian; they are simply qualities I’ve acquired through my upbringing (unequivocally Asian, but fused with American values), environment (the mix of stimuli and people who I choose to surround myself with), and the random roll of the genetics die. 

Wesley Yang made me rethink this public perception of myself. I seem highly assimilated into American culture- poised, confident, J. Crew-adorned, Coldplay-humming, maybe even white-washed- but dig deeper, and you wonder how much of this is a front and how much is a true representation of who I am as a complete individual.  My full self is more than just a sum of my external parts; it is that, plus my unconscious, my past, my cultural upbringing.  Try as I might to break off these shackles, the values of humility, respect, and obedience are in me, hidden, but irrevocably there, under layers and layers of Western inflation that have been built over years of observation and practicing what it to takes to fit in this culture.

 

All that said, does it really matter what’s Asian and what’s not?  Don’t we live in a global culture anyway? I am who I am because God willed it so.  If I could choose any wardrobe in the world, it would still be J. Crew.  Pretty WASPy, huh?  Maybe that’s why I unconsciously flock to it, or maybe I just like the style.  We’ll never know.

Do societal choices like these make some Asian Americans more prone to “success” in the American sphere? I find that hard to believe.  Acquiring more “white” mannerisms will not get me farther in today’s world because frankly, the standards for success are no longer strictly American; they are constantly in flux. People can rise the corporate ladder through charisma and mark their own paths through daredevil business acumen, arguably more Western qualities.  If success is achieved by someone who happens to be Asian however, the achievement should not be attributed to the individual’s regard or lack of regard for Western or Eastern characteristics. People have different methods of cultivating qualities necessary to succeed- some through culture, some through chance, some through individual determination. 

Yang seems to argue that if I succeed, I will succeed because I’ve neglected all things Asian and fully adapted to social American mannerisms.  If judged by American terms, yes, I suppose my success entails making a fortune, becoming a public figure, and speaking with eloquence. But success is arbitrary and not always loud and out in front.  Believe it or not, some want none of that. For instance, my immigrant father with a Ph.D in nuclear engineering from MIT believes success has no meaning if no diligence or strife is required.  No pain, no gain.  There’s no easy way to the top, as Dad puts it.  And part of me agrees. A modest immigrant engineer working steadily and raising a family in a comfortable middle-class home is no less of a success than the high-flying risk-taking entrepreneur who quickly becomes a millionaire upon selling his startup.  Not saying the latter has no merits- I’m all for risk-taking and pushing the envelope- but in a world so governed by ambition and status, sometimes we need reminders that success is governed by our own terms.  

I’m afraid Yang completely discounts the importance of Confucian values: humility, diligence, obedience.  Even in an ego-hungry 21st century, filial piety is still relevant.   As much as I’d like to think I’m not the typical Asian, I will never nor will I ever want to separate myself from my Asian background.  

The last sentence of “Paper Tigers” wreaks of proud defiance:

“We will need more people…willing to push themselves into the spotlight and to make some noise, to beat people up, to seduce women, to make mistakes, to become entrepreneurs, to stop doggedly pursuing emblems attesting to their worthiness, to stop thinking those scraps of paper will secure anyone’s happiness and to dare to be interesting.”  

Dare to be interesting. And if not?  What about those who don’t cut corners and instead follow all the rules, rising slowly but surely in pure meritorious fashion, adhering to scholarly discipline? They’re boring, obedient creatures, I suppose. And pretty respectful human beings. 

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