I have heard the phrase numerous times, “I’ve done the Asian thing before,” or “I’ve always liked Asian girls.” As if it’s some form of validation for pursuing me, I have become a novelty similar to action movies or race cars. I am a certain “type” of girl and sometimes I wonder if I am pursued for my personal qualities or for my nationality. Although I admit that my personal attributes do include being Asian, it is sometimes frustrating to be labeled and pursued for this characteristic alone. I can assume that at least some of the time I am liked for who I am besides my Asian background, but it is hard to know when I am not. I want to break down the stereotypes of what an Asian girl is and show that Asian girls are many diverse and beautiful things.

My experiences with Asian fetishism began years ago, but to my naïve mind, the experiences, at first, never really affected me. I can remember the first time a man told me he liked Asian women, and I instinctively knew it was for certain sexual reasons. That was the first time a Caucasian man told me his experiences with Asian women had been good because he believed they were “good in bed.” I was eighteen at the time, and I was currently in a relationship with a Caucasian man who had told me he liked Asian girls. I have since dated other Caucasian men who have told me similar things, although none of them seemed to be offensive at the time. It was not until fairly recently that I realized some Caucasian men pursue Asian women because of certain stereotypes portrayed by the media. I just recently began to view these small passing comments from past boyfriends as troubling because of the inherent implications of a derogatory nature. When I had a part time job as a hostess my co-workers playfully labeled me as “Lucy Liu” because of my Asian heritage, when in reality the only thing Lucy Liu and I have in common is our American citizenship. Liu is one of the only prominent Asian American actresses and her small presence in the media warrants uniformed people to label all Asian American women as “Lucy Liu types.” I have literally just begun to examine what all these stereotypes mean for my life and for my image in society.

Every comment I have heard from a white male about my ethnicity has always derived from an ignorant view of what Asian women really are. I have been labeled and judged based on my Korean heritage by men who blindly adhere to deeply embedded social schemas of Asian women. I can say with certainty that I have been viewed as a Madame Butterfly or perhaps even as a Geisha Girl or a Dragon Lady. I have been told before that I am a beautiful Asian girl or that I am “sexy,” but I know it is with certain standards of ethnic preference that I am thought to be that way. I know other Asian women have felt threatened or offended by Asian fetishism but I am just now becoming familiar with such a phenomenon. One of my ex-boyfriends told me while we were together that he had always liked Asian girls, possibly because of his interest in foreign imports (cars). This statement since that time has become increasingly disturbing, not only because of its stereotypical implications of Asian fetishism, but also because of stereotypes of Asian cars and a certain “import lifestyle.” I have heard men chuckle when they joke about Asian women being “good imports” and I now cringe every time I hear a statement like that. This socially and historically created fetish will continue to affect my life, possibly on an everyday basis, and I have to accept the fact that I am sometimes pursued for my ethnicity alone. But what I can do to avoid being a victim of Asian fetishism is to prove to my future pursuers that I refuse to be pigeonholed as a Dragon Lady, Geisha Girl, or Madame Butterfly.

When I act to break down stereotypes of Asian women and refuse to date men who actively seek a woman based on her ethnicity, I can begin to show those types of men that Asian women are everything they expected them not to be. I am proud of the fact that I am Asian, but frustrated by the fact that I must overcome these stereotypes that always typecast me into these roles perpetuated by American media. I am unlike every other Asian American woman out there and we are all as complex and unique as every Caucasian woman. The next time I hear the phrase “I like Asian girls,” I may think twice about dating that man. I am more than just an Asian girl.

Breanne is a Halfway Contributor

It was with a new found sense of courage that I decided to go to Hong Kong to study abroad in my last semester of college. I had come to realize that my Korean heritage would never change despite my attempt to sweep it under the rug. For the first time in my life, I wanted nothing more than to learn Korean and learn about the culture and history of this distant country where I was born. I had always felt Korean American without the Korean, and what little facts I knew about Korea seemed elementary and pathetic. My decision to study abroad in Hong Kong came as much of a shock to me as it did to everyone else in my life. I had never expressed a real interest in traveling to, let alone living anyplace in Asia. This would be my first experience in Asia, and the first time I was willing to discover my Korean self. I wasn’t ready to go to South Korea; I didn’t know any Korean and I didn’t want to be shunned for my lack of Korean knowledge or culture. I knew the adjustment to living in Asia would be much smoother in Hong Kong.

I was surprised at how easily I adjusted to life in Hong Kong, despite the Cantonese language barrier. My goal was to learn what it was like to be Asian, or what I could do to become more Asian, as I felt completely “whitewashed,” having made my first Asian friends only last semester. And so when I met Jason, I immediately became interested in finding out what his life was like living in the U.S., having been raised by Korean parents. I never really expected to be affected by my friendship with Jason, but meeting him was one of the most valuable experiences of my study abroad experience.
That night I first met Jason, a large group of students on the study abroad program were all going to dinner together at a Korean barbeque restaurant not far from our student residence. He was taller than I expected, I suppose I thought all Asian men were short, even though I instinctively knew that was illogical. The group walked to the restaurant in good spirits, even though the evening was chilly and moist with a thick blanket of humidity in the air. Jason and walked together for a minute, politely getting to know each other with all the typical small talk questions. He was friendly, but not too friendly. I half expected us to bond in some unexplainable Korean way, but immediately realized how ridiculous the thought was. We reached the restaurant and entered the tiny joint in the corner of a simple office building. Small, cramped, loud, and smoky, the restaurant was teeming with life as groups enjoyed dinner together, huddled at the tables. I walked past the buffet of raw food dumped haphazardly in plastic bins to arrive at our modest table on the other side of the buffet. Barbeque smoke mingled with cigarette smoke filled the air, complemented by the pungent aroma of kimchi and garlic. We all headed for the buffet with our small, ivory colored porcelain plates. I walked slowly past the bins of raw meat and seafood, most unrecognizable to my untrained eyes. I finally settled on two pieces of red meat, which I was hoping were bulgoki, one of the few Korean dishes I was familiar with.