“Chohikaru’s Shaking Perspective!” #01 Awareness of Being Asian

Chohikaru

Painting artist Graduated from Musashino Art University in 2016. Completed a master’s program at Pratt Institute in 2021. Gained attention for works that feature realistic paintings on bodies and objects, becoming a topic of discussion both domestically and internationally. In addition to numerous media appearances, including “Waratte Iitomo,” she collaborates with companies such as Samsung, Amnesty International, and Shiseido, and engages in a wide range of activities including solo exhibitions, illustration production, clothing design, art direction, and program planning. The recently published painting picture book “Janai!” has won the Hibakarasu Award and the Sakura Medal, and has also been selected for the Green Shade Library. Her publications include five picture books, an art collection, an illustrated book, manga, and essay collections.

2024.11.27

When I first came to New York, I decided to try a dating app. Swiping through people with faces I had rarely encountered in Japan, and who spoke different first languages, felt strangely surreal, almost like a game. I couldn’t quite figure out who my type was among the white, black, and Latino individuals. I realized that my “preferred face” was only shaped by my experiences in Japan. I started chatting in English with a white man I matched with.

“Hello, you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m weak for Asian girls.”

Ah, I am “Asian” to him. While I understood that I was Asian in terms of race, it was the first time I felt so acutely that someone saw me through the lens of being “Asian.” He knew nothing about me, and to him, I was just a “preferred Asian.” It felt unsettling, as if I were being viewed in 2D, reduced to just my outline. In a diverse place like New York, I became aware of my identity as an Asian person (mainly categorized as East Asian).

They say that to hide a tree, a forest is good, but the trees in the forest likely do not realize they are trees. When surrounded only by trees, being a tree is the “unspoken standard.” This is similar to Japan, where about 97.5% of the population holds Japanese nationality. Even if I understood that I was Japanese among a group of only Japanese people, there are hardly any moments in daily life where I truly feel, “I am Japanese.”

Having been born and raised as a “Chinese resident in Japan,” I have lived with the constant awareness of being Chinese, for better or worse. People deepen their understanding of themselves through comparison with others. In a setting where only Japanese people are present, I could not forget that my shape was slightly different from those around me. However, in America, a country where many races coexist (though many suburban areas are quite conservative, so diversity may only be felt in cities like New York), the distinction between “Chinese residents in Japan” and “Japanese” is trivial, and we are collectively seen as “Asian.”

As I savored my newfound awareness of being Asian, the conversation on the dating app continued.

“Why do you like Asian girls?”

“Asian girls are feminine and obedient, unlike white or black women.”

“Asian girls are sexy. I always watch Japanese adult videos.”

Hearing this now would make me slightly angry, but a few years ago, when I had just arrived in America, I didn’t fully grasp the discomfort of this response. Oh, so Asian girls are popular. I felt a vague discomfort but thought little of it. It was then that I first realized that the image of “Asian women” is partly shaped by adult videos.

What does it mean to be Asian in America? Even in a country that promotes diversity, Asians are a minority. Just as there are stereotypes associated with professions (like band members being seen as carefree or accountants as serious), being seen as Asian comes with its own stereotypes. Asians are often portrayed in media as simplified and exaggerated characters, leading to various perceptions. Specifically, they are often seen as intelligent or good at math, which is generally more favorable than the prejudices faced by other people of color, and Asian Americans are often referred to as “model minorities.” However, Asians living in America often struggle with the gap between this ideal image and their actual selves. Additionally, being seen as a model minority can make it harder to speak out against the racism that exists towards real Asians.

Recently, the phenomenon of Asian fetishism has also emerged. The origins of the sexualization of Asian women (especially East Asian) in America are debated, but media portrayals play a significant role. Works like Madame Butterfly and Miss Saigon are well-known examples where Asian women’s sexuality is depicted as fundamentally different. They are portrayed as obedient, willing to please, and untouched, yet simultaneously promiscuous and exotic. They are not seen as independent individuals but rather as embodiments of male fantasies. This ideal, which cannot be imposed on other races, may have been easier to project onto a race that was still relatively unknown. This tendency has persisted for over a century, and I still encounter people who casually say things like “Asian women are obedient and sexy.” While receiving creepy messages might be the least of my worries, this stereotype has led to real hate crimes. Recently, there was an incident in Atlanta where a man went to a massage parlor run by Asians and committed a mass shooting. Six of the eight victims were Asian. He reportedly said, “I’m a sex addict, so I thought I should eliminate the source of temptation.” To him, the Asian women working at the massage parlor were not human but merely sexual objects.

Conversely, Asian men, according to a certain dating app survey, are reportedly the least desirable group. (This trend may be changing with the recent rise in K-POP popularity.) The general image of Asian men is often “weak” or “not masculine,” which does not resonate well in a society with a strong preference for muscularity. It’s quite strange that only those presenting as female within the Asian category are sexualized.

Along with my awareness of being Asian, a sense of solidarity with other Asians began to grow. As mentioned earlier, I have lived with the understanding that I am different from Japanese people due to my background as a Chinese resident in Japan. Therefore, when I was in Japan, I rarely thought that being Asian meant being in the same category as Japanese people. However, surrounded by people of different races with diverse backgrounds, I found myself making eye contact and reaching out to international students from various Asian countries like China, Korea, the Philippines, and India (though I tend to lean towards East Asia). Even though my Chinese is poor and I can only say “annyeonghaseyo” and “saranghaeyo” in Korean, communication ultimately happens in English, and it shouldn’t feel any different than when talking to people of other races. Yet, in this foreign land of America, just because we eat rice and noodles, I felt as if we had fought through struggles together. Even when I met Asian Americans born and raised in the U.S., I felt a sense of shared understanding, even if it was unspoken. This may not be negative, but it is certainly a bias. While I have always loudly proclaimed that “everyone is different, so judging by race or country of origin is strange,” I found a sense of unfounded comfort in discovering an identity I could belong to as an Asian, and I began to see Asians as my peers. Balancing the comfort of finding companions and the pride that comes from it with the tendency to simplify and label people is always challenging.

I went on a date with the white man I met on the dating app. He had only traveled to Japan once and confidently took me to a mysterious izakaya in Midtown, claiming, “I’ll let you try the best ramen I know.” He slurped a bowl of ramen (?), which had a completely bland broth, and said, “Doesn’t it have a clear taste?” I couldn’t bring myself to say, “No, this is bad,” and thought, wait, this makes me seem really obedient. I ended up slurping a similarly flavorless yakisoba (?). Being Asian, acknowledging that stereotypes sometimes apply, and striving not to flatten myself or others is perhaps as difficult as finding truly delicious ramen in NY.