Avoiding Tokenism
Uplifting Asian American Writers
As a Chinese American, I recount representation of my childhood through nonfiction children’s books about Lunar New Year and even a fictional book about a Chinese family trying to get green cards. It was rare to see any other books about a Chinese child living an average life—a life that has nothing to do with their Asian identity. The older I got, it seemed that we were best represented in memoirs. When I was a child, I would sometimes try to picture myself through the ambiguously Asian-identifying background characters in picture books. I wanted to see characters who looked like me even if it meant I was a side character in the story. I craved any representation even if it was not a main character. By high school, I saw a couple of young-adult fiction books with an Asian character. Most of the time, I would read books with a white main character, which meant I would be seeing this imaginary world through the eyes of a person who could not relate to me. Through those books with an Asian main character, I got a glimpse of what it was like to be Asian American in high school without having to reimagine a white character as Asian American.
Now, as someone studying creative writing, I think about how I want more diversity in the publishing industry. I want to create a literary world where people like me exist. It started with me writing through a lot of my experiences with my family and sometimes even speaking about my Chinese culture. The thing many people do not understand about writing about Asian Americans is that each story is different. It is wonderful to see representation of rich cultures that comprise Asia. However, there is authenticity in a life that does not surround immigration, celebrating cultural holidays, or anything people consider stereotypical of Asian life. Our stories are like any other stories, filled with moments of love and hatred, happiness and sadness, and learning how to grow up in the world.
The Medium article “Asian American Writers Are Finally Breaking Out on Their Own Terms” by Brandon Yu speaks more to this issue of how Asian American writers are facing the conflicting ways that they are represented in the industry. As Yu mentions, “Those [authors] who found success were often entangled in the rule of the one — publishers’ habit of touting one or two writers every few years as the sole representatives of a culture.”
Asian American authors are put in situations where they are competing against each other. Why should they have to compete when there is a large enough population that would support their work? Despite people of color being a quarter of America’s adult readership, that does not mean that they are not important to keep in mind. Asian Americans are a group that deserves more attention, even as consumers. They are the “fastest growing racial/ethnic minority group in the United States,” with a 70% growth in population since 2000. This means that there is a large group out there looking for books that speak to them. If publishers really want to reach a big audience, they have been missing out on a specific segment. It is not easy to grow up in a space where one is isolated based on race. Books are often another avenue for people to feel seen. When we see ourselves in books, we find peace in knowing that we are not the only ones going through a specific situation. However, if characters are built from stereotypes, it is disheartening.
This competitive industry also creates a situation where writers are seen as tokens for their publishers, not people with valid stories to share. When publishers tell Asian American authors that they cannot write about non-Asian topics, this sparks the question of what is non-Asian? What makes someone an Asian or even an Asian American? This exoticism of Asians and Asian Americans sets them apart from others when they share stories of being children, being in love, or even coming of age. Growing up, I read a lot of young-adult fiction that never catered to me. I wanted to be a main character without having to be a K-pop star or a master at martial arts.
This is not to say that I am not proud of Asian Americans who have been able to give tribute to their Asian lives in their publications. It is amazing to have that representation too. As Celeste Ng, author of Little Fires Everywhere, says, “My experience of who I am as a person has been so shaped by being an Asian American, by being a Chinese American, by being a woman, that to pretend like I can divorce those things from my writing is a little bit naïve.”
Recently, I’ve seen more Asian American works coming out, especially during the pandemic. Each piece is one step closer to hopefully getting to a place where diversity in publishing is not treated as a token but a way to uplift many authors who deserve to be heard. There’s even a new publishing house, Third State Books, dedicated to Asian American and Pacific Islander writing. Third State Books was created by Charles Kim and Stephanie Lim, who seek to create books that represent themselves and their future. In doing so, they aim to publish books for both children and adults. I love the mission behind Third State Books because they aim for authenticity. They are even trying to appeal to customers by publishing non-English editions of books in order to represent the households that may not speak English as their main language. As Charles Kim states, “Roughly two-thirds of Asian Americans grow up in a non-English-speaking household.”
Perhaps this could be due to the lack of diversity in the publishing industry, but regardless, editors need to consider more of their audience. Asian Americans do not have to cater to non-Asian people. Authors should not have their work rejected because their books are not “Japanese-y” or Asian enough. Asian American authors should not have to tone down the racism and microaggressions they’ve experienced for the sake of a non-Asian reader’s comfort. We cannot downplay that reality.
I am Chinese. I am American. I am a writer. I am aspiring to go into a field where I am not the majority ethnically. I am a reader who wishes that my younger self had more representation of me in it, and as I get older, I still wish for that proper representation. However, I cannot make a change on my own. Neither can the rest of the Asian community. These are the words we have been saying for a long time. As Mira Jacob, the author of the graphic memoir Good Talk, states, “We have always been doing the work. There is no shortage of us.”
Jena Lui (she/her) is a Publishing & Editing and Creative Writing double major from Susquehanna University’s Class of 2023. She is currently pursuing a masters in library science. Jena is a writer and editor for Her Campus, a national online magazine dedicated to writing for college women. She was the senior editor for Apprentice Writer, an international magazine dedicated to high-school writers. She is also an editor for The Lit Mug, a “literary mugazine.” Her writing can be found in Susquehanna’s Flagship, SWFP, Quarantine Quarterly, and Omnivisum Press.