I have a confession. Sometimes, I wonder if my writing gigs stem from my ability to embody the persona of an angry Asian American woman. An unsettling thought creeps into my mind, whispering that I might simply be a token Asian, filling a diversity requirement. What a delightful bonus I must seem for not fitting the mold of being quiet or submissive.
Honestly, I find a strange satisfaction in stirring the pot. While I don’t appreciate the threats to my safety or that of my family, I can’t deny the thrill of provoking outrage among fragile individuals online. If they want to keep me in their heads, who am I to stop them? They’ve made their choices, and I’ve made mine.
The truth is, despite what some may think, I’m not inherently an angry person — and I don’t want to be. I’d rather focus on joy (and spreading the insights of K-pop group BTS). But — shocking as it may be — I am undeniably very angry.
There’s an overwhelming amount of toxic behavior out there, especially from privileged individuals. The blatant appropriation of mahjong by uncreative folks who disrespect Chinese culture, and the white guy on TikTok who suggested that white men should seek Asian women from abroad because Asian American women are supposedly “mean,” are just a few examples. And don’t get me started on the rise of anti-Asian hate crimes since COVID-19.
I am furious that white supremacists can act with impunity, emboldened by the former President of the United States. I’m exhausted by the way white supremacy infiltrates every aspect of my life, especially how white women often cause chaos in various communities, leaving women of color to bear the brunt of the fallout. We are labeled as the troublemakers when we dare to highlight the systemic issues that benefit some while harming others.
How can anyone, regardless of their background, not feel anger in the face of such injustices? What makes it worse is that while Asian Americans are often viewed as perpetual foreigners, some among us are complicit in perpetuating anti-Black sentiments. It’s infuriating to see Asian Americans rally against anti-Asian racism while remaining silent about anti-Black issues. The fact that 31% voted for Trump in 2020 — up from 18% in 2016 — is disheartening. So many would rather align with white supremacy than advocate for true justice.
I am angry because in a world like this, anger is a rational response. Yet my anger is often weaponized against me. I hear echoes of doubt: “They only hired you because you create controversy. If you stop being angry, you’ll lose your value.” Even though the stereotype of Asian American women tends to be the opposite of anger, it’s frustrating that my dissent is distorted by the very structures of oppression I’m trying to challenge.
This is the consequence of underrepresentation — it breeds imposter syndrome among women and people of color, robbing us of our full humanity. No amount of praise for my work or gratitude from others can change that.
I refuse to be defined by a single dimension. I will continue to express my anger and seek joy because they coexist. I will not be confined to a box. I am multifaceted. My existence is my act of resistance.
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In summary, while I grapple with anger as a response to societal injustices, I also strive to find joy and authenticity in my identity. I refuse to be simplified into a stereotype; instead, I embrace the complexity of my existence as an act of resistance.