Kung Fu – Bitch Flicks

The Social Network and the China Doll/Dragon Lady Syndrome by Stephanie Charamnac

Part Dragon Lady, part China Doll, Christy is 100 percent stereotypical. It’s hard to believe that such a distorted representation, steeped in age-old myths, only dates back to 2010. Even more disheartening is the fact that most film critics did not raise an eyebrow at this deeply flawed portrayal.

Fresh Off the Boat’s Jessica Huang Is Loud, Abrasive, Intense, and Exactly What We Need by Deborah Pless

I don’t want to jump the gun here, since the show has only been on now for a month and a half, but Jessica Huang might just be my new favorite female character. Why? Because she is hilarious, brilliant, incredibly sarcastic, and because she refuses to let anyone get away with anything. Basically, because I see myself in her and I love it. What can I say? I’m naturally egotistical.

Kuch Kuch Hota Hai: Bollywood Hurts Men, Too by Brigit McCone

By supplying excuses all around, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai upholds the status quo while venting its resulting frustrations; the performances lovingly celebrate female feistiness, while the plot constantly punishes and suppresses it in favor of traditional ideals of self-sacrifice and emotional martyrdom. Cue predictable feminist outrage. You already know everything I would write. So instead, I’d like to focus on another aspect of the film: its utter contempt for male agency. Yes, male.

Kalinda Sharma Is My Favorite Queer Uncanny Star by Rosie Kar

Though based in downtown Chicago, there is a paucity of people of color in the show, and those who do make appearances seem to be present for only short amounts of time, save for one: Kalinda Sharma. She is an independent private investigator for the firm Lockhart and Gardner, and is a supporting character in the series’ narrative. Played by actress Archie Panjabi, the role of Kalinda Sharma is one that is groundbreaking in terms of thinking about queer South Asian bodies onscreen in the American imaginary.

The World Before Her: Between Liberalization and Fundamentalism–India’s Two Faces by Asma Sayed

Pahuja sees the film as going beyond the issues of women’s rights; according to her, the film is about India, and what’s happening there, and the fear about the future as the culture of the country goes through extreme changes. She adds that, through the film, she would like to showcase the kind of “hatred being taught in the camps in the guise of patriotism.”

Ouran High School Host Club: Haruhi, Heteronormativity, and the Gender Binary by Jackson Adler

At its heart, Ouran is about gender and, for better or worse, how it is perceived and performed. Though often praised and adored for its challenges to heteronormativity and gender roles through its range of characters, especially its protagonist, it ends up reinforcing heteronormativity and the gender binary to a large extent.

Mother India: Woman, Pillar of the Nation by AP

Mother India treats Radha’s abnegating nature as a positive. Look how nobly she suffers for her husband and sons, the movie seems to say. In real life, such glorification of women’s suffering enables an exploitative system of economic growth on the backs of underpaid, overworked women. They get nothing except lip service, sometimes not even that.

Saving Face: About Chinese American Women, Not Based on a Book By Amy Tan by Ren Jender

Like Chutney Popcorn, Saving Face is one of the few films focused on queer people of color and their families. Having those two elements together might seem like a modest achievement, but Pariah is one of the only recent films that also includes both. Mainstream movie makers apparently think queer people of color don’t have families, but instead are deposited as eggs in a sandy, warm spot by a pond until they hatch and make their way, independently, into the world.

Not Everybody Is Kung Fu Fighting by Katie Li

English-Vinglish: Straddling Patriarchal and Linguistic Hegemony by Asma Sayed

Moving away from the Bollywood style masala and dancing-around-the-trees numbers, this film focuses on the real-life issue of the position of women in the domestic and social spheres in India.

Why Fresh Off the Boat Is Kind of a Big Deal by Katy Koop

So, in a world where people think you don’t have to cast Asians to play Asian parts, Fresh Off the Boat gives hope that maybe Asian kids or mixed kids like me will actually see a sitcom and see themselves a little. And maybe if it’s a success, more shows and better casting will follow.

The Kims Next Door: Korean Identity on Gilmore Girls by Elizabeth Kiy

While Rory struggled with the myriad of concerns afforded to a main character: her love life, her future, her friendships and family, Lane’s biggest conflict was always her overbearing, uber-religious mother and to a lesser degree, her own Korean heritage. Being Korean is never posed as a positive thing for Lane, it is only a marker of difference.

This guest post by Katie Li appears as part of our theme week on Asian Womanhood in Pop Culture.

“So, do you know kung fu?”

This question is the scourge of Asian-America. The assumption that we all know martial arts is one of the handful of stereotypes that pop culture has been mainlining to the masses, leaving individuals to challenge these overly-simplified notions of Asian identity: the China Doll, the Dragon Lady, the Laundry Man, the Kung Fu Hero. We’ve been fighting against these stereotypes for decades—and Hollywood isn’t helping.

This question—like all stereotypes—is born out of unchallenged ignorance. As frustrating as it is for this assumption to be made, I understand how someone could believe that it is real. Fresh Off the Boat is the first show in 20 years to feature an Asian-American family; before that, Margaret Cho was trying to prove that she was an “All American Girl” on her sitcom that was wrought with Asian stereotypes.

In the decades between these two shows, Asian actors have been cast in some movies—but when have Asians in Hollywood held a leading role in a film other than an action movie? The only one I can think of is Harold and Kumar. We have been the perpetual sidekicks, rarely the stars. Lucy Liu, introduced to us in her role as Dragon-Lady-Gone-Lawyer in Ally McBeal hasn’t strayed far from this first impression, constantly portraying the alluring-exotic-sometimes-lethal love interest, never the hero of her own story, never someone a wider audience can identify with as they travel on an emotional journey together.

When we are the leads, we are featured in action movies, doing slick martial arts. The story doesn’t get any more complex or meaningful than getting out of a tricky situation using some kung fu. Since kung fu movies became popular in the 1970s, audiences have sat in dark theaters, absorbing these same images with nothing left to challenge these notions other than people who aren’t too weary of this microaggressor to answer, “No, I don’t know kung fu, and neither do all Asians.”

Cast of Fresh Off the Boat — Cast of *Fresh Off the Boat*

But what do you do when you actually fit those stereotypes that you must fight against?

I am an Asian-American woman of Chinese and Irish descent. I was a straight-A, piano-playing overachiever in high school. My grandfather was a laundry man and my grandmother owned a restaurant. I grew up doing kung fu.

My parents were my teachers. I didn’t get sugary cereal and cartoons on Saturday mornings–I was at their school, practicing kung fu. A common backdrop of my childhood was basically a Rocky training montage, people red-faced and sweating, doing drills to improve their skills.

The school would do street performances, impressing crowds of tourists in Fanieul Hall with fighting sets and animal-inspired techniques that they had only ever seen in movies. I watched my parents and their troupe as they flew through the air, doing butterfly and hurricane kicks, sometimes whipping weapons under their legs as they took flight. I clapped when the audience clapped, but I had also seen these routines practiced countless times before the show. Even at a young age, I understood that these skills weren’t just magically bestowed or gained in a montage. They required hard work and sacrifice.

My everyday life was a behind-the-scenes look at the kung fu movies that left everyone so impressed. Many of my parents’ students were actually super heroes—stunt doubles for movies like Mortal Combat, Batman, and Power Rangers. I watched these movies at home and understood that those characters were real people—people I knew. I understood that there was a difference between the action portrayed in films, and real stories in our lives.

The majority of my parents’ students were not in movies, they were just regular people looking for a new way to work out and feel good about themselves. They were young and old, college students and professionals of many different racial and cultural backgrounds. Kung fu wasn’t something that was just for Asians. But that’s not what the media would have us believe.

When people ask me, “Do you know kung fu?”

I can actually answer, “Yes.”

Being able to affirm someone’s stereotype isn’t a proud or happy moment. I stopped expecting people to shut up, satisfied with knowing that they met an Asian who did kung fu. Instead, I am met with more questions, microaggressors that are just as presumptuous and ignorant as assuming someone of Asian ancestry knows martial arts.

I don’t usually tell people I know kung fu, but when I do, I brace myself for the same conversation I have had with people my whole life—literally my whole life, ever since I was in preschool:

Are you a black belt?

To which I explain that not every school has a rank system, and that my parents’ school is one of those that does not. The emphasis in their training is not about forcing their students into the same rigorous, ever-advancing tests, but helping each student individually. But that’s not what people want to hear. When I tell people I’m not a black belt, they become incredulous, questioning my skills. They continue to prod, often asking:

Can you kick my butt?

This question became more sexualized as I grew up. Other women don’t usually want to know, it’s only men who ask, accompanied by a not-so-subtle smugness that suggested they wanted me to be able to physically dominate them. I got that question and that look even when I was a young teenager.

Because every Asian-looking school girl is super smart and can kick ass, right?

The honest answer: No.

I might be able to throw a punch, but hitting a pad in a kung fu class is different from fighting off Go-Go and the Crazy 88.

Western audiences aren’t interested in the talking points though; they just want to fast-forward to the action. They glorify the violence and exotify Chinese culture, while completely missing out the subtle, important messages of martial arts training: values like discipline, hard work, and how your training and skills aren’t used to harm others, but to better yourself. Kung fu isn’t about fighting an enemy. It’s about making yourself a better human being—inside and outside. By focusing on the action without compelling storylines or characters we can care about, the art of kung fu itself—like Asian action stars and layman—has been flattened to a caricature.

What 24 years of martial arts training has given me aren’t skills to show off my physical prowess, but mental endurance and confidence, a sense of empowerment to speak up when something isn’t right. In the end, those are the battles that really matter.

Raised by martial artists, Katie Li grew up with fascinating stories and an eclectic cast of characters. She continues this tradition in her work, writing fiction and narrative non-fiction about personal transformation and unlikely possibilities. Her work has appeared in The Huffington Post, Xenith, and Write From Wrong. Learn more at www.katieliwriter.com or follow her on Twitter @KatieLi_Writer.