Crossing the Pacific: The Asian American Experience in U.S. Society and Discourse
Insights and Analysis from the Salzburg Global American Studies program on September 18 to 22, 2024
Table of Contents
“Asian American”: Identity, Meaning, and Political Potential
"I am an American" and "We are not American": Visual Records of AANHPI by Dianne Shen
Asian American Voters in the U.S. Presidential Election
The Asian American Experience: American Studies Classrooms in the U.S. and Beyond
How Are Asian Americans Portrayed – And How Do Asian Americans Portray Themselves – In Literature, Culture, and the Arts? by Astrid M. Fellner
Diverse Forms of Representation: Countering Stereotypes and Challenging Authenticity
Soft Power and the Arts by Nicole Jerr
Recording and Unpacking Historical Experiences Across the Pacific
The Philippine-American Legacy and Its Role in Shaping Asia-Pacific Relations by Diana Villaneuva-Romero
The term “Asian American,” although it has valuable political potential, obscures the ethnic, cultural, and socioeconomic heterogeneity of a large number of individuals who play an integral role in the nation’s broader social fabric. Asian presence in the country and Transpacific encounters have persisted for centuries, and today Asian Americans are the fastest-growing demographic population in the United States. However, although the collective experience of Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders (AAPI) reflects a rich history of hybridity and vibrant cross-cultural exchange, it has also been shaped by entrenched policies that regulate racialized access to immigration and citizenship, disproportionately affecting the group in the past and present.
In the 19th and 20th centuries, legislations such as the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 and the Immigration Act of 1924 imposed strict prohibitions and restrictions on the entry and settlement of certain Asian (American) groups, while World War II and the rise of anti-Japanese racism led to the forceful relocation and internment of thousands of Japanese Americans. Although national-origin quota systems have been abolished on a larger scale, this history of exclusion is continued by contemporary political violence and other acts of discrimination against Asians and Asian Americans.
A notable recent example highlighting these developments was the marked resurgence in anti-Asian hate crime incidents during the COVID-19 pandemic. Moreover, the 2024 election, which could produce the country’s first Asian American president, also takes place against a backdrop of growing geopolitical and economic rivalry between “the East” and “the West,” as well as Othering rhetoric that feeds on contemporary incarnations of “yellow peril” sentiments. At the same time, Asian American voters occupy a critical position for the eventual outcome of the election: prior to President Joe Biden’s withdrawal, their support for the Democratic Party was declining, but their favorability rebounded once Harris became the nominee, which could be a decisive factor given the tightness of the race.
Outside the US, lasting repercussions and new forms of American economic and military involvement are pervasive throughout the Pacific and Asia. Importantly, the consequences of American involvement in wars in several Asian regions—such as in the Philippines, Korea, Vietnam, and Afghanistan—continue to influence US-Asian geopolitical and domestic dynamics in various countries on both sides of the ocean.
Looking at contexts inside and outside the US, the 2024 Salzburg Global American Studies Program, “Crossing the Pacific: The Asian American Experience in US Society and Discourse,” explored these relationships and tensions from multiple geographic, social, and sectoral perspectives. The program featured speakers, roundtables, and discussion groups, and brought together an intergenerational, international, and inclusive group of approximately 40 individuals from 18 countries. The highly participatory format of the event encouraged participants to share their expertise and experiences as academics, policymakers, journalists, artists, and activists, as well as to exchange ideas and build new alliances.
One of the highlights was this year’s edition of the Ron Clifton lecture, delivered by Margaret Huang, president and chief executive officer at the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC). In her talk, Margaret discussed her work at the civil rights nonprofit, which has served as a catalyst for racial justice in the Deep South for more than 50 years. In particular, she elaborated on the organization’s four main areas of focus, which center on poverty ratification, democracy, decarceration and decriminalization, and education.
In the context of AAPI-specific conditions, these pillars were also central to the program as a whole. For example, in the area of education, a recurring theme was not only how to bring the Asian American experience and the community’s impact in shaping the cultural, social, and ideological map of present-day America into the classroom, but also the impact of the current book-banning movement on the ability of educators to do so. The task of productively engaging with the history of Asian American and Pacific Islander marginalization and ongoing social injustices becomes even more urgent in a context where certain US states are actively attempting to stifle conversations about diversity and inclusion.
Associated with this challenge is an examination of Asian American representations in literature, culture, and the arts. While the popular perception of the “model minority” persists, and Hollywood perpetuates stereotypes that exoticize, homogenize, dehumanize, and belittle Asian American bodies and identities, contemporary AAPI (self-)representations complicate understandings of authenticity, offer various viewpoints on the community’s diversity, and debate different notions of what it means to be Asian American.
Pertaining to this, the question of recording history arises—a democratic interaction with the archive and an active engagement with history are instrumental in countering erasures and silences and uncovering hidden Asian American traces while consciously preserving existing realities. Literature acts as an important facilitator of how history can be interpreted, but other materials, such as photographs and oral histories, are indispensable for broadening perspectives on Asian American identity.
These and related issues and experiences were addressed over the course of five days, with an eye toward what lessons they can offer for the future and what they can contribute to understanding the evolving dynamics within the United States. Beyond intense discussions of the status quo, the focus remained on finding solutions and new approaches, as Asian American Studies scholars and practitioners, to democratic principles informed by arts and culture, social commentary, and historical analysis. The program emphasized the importance of education, representation, and archiving as crucial tools for resisting erasure and promoting understanding. As current social, political, and cultural tensions unfold, it is essential to continue to center counter-narratives and promote more inclusive and accurate representations of Asian American and Pacific Islander histories and identities.
“Asian American”: Identity, Meaning, and Political Potential
While more than half of the world’s population lives across different countries in Asia, the US government formally categorizes “Asian Americans” as a single race. Today, the term seems overly generalizing, a prescriptive classification that fails to capture the full range of experiences within the community. The designation not only lumps together various regional identities—larger groups such as Chinese, Indian, or Filipino Americans, as well as smaller groups like Cambodian, Taiwanese, or Mongolian Americans—but also ignores the community’s diversity in terms of ethnicity, religion, language, or class.
In particular, socioeconomic differences are obscured by the “model minority” stereotype. Additionally, the histories of certain groups or individual families reveal a variety of arrival stories; while some have been in the US for several generations, others have immigrated more recently, while still others came to the country as refugees.
However, when it emerged during a period of strong social activism in the late 1960s, the pan-ethnic label “Asian American” served as a powerful political force to collectively demand social justice and civil rights while resisting the constraints of derogatory terms such as “Oriental.” As the Asian American community continues to grow and diversify, new terms have become more popular to better reflect the range of identities included within this broad category.
The more inclusive term “AAPI” (Asian American and Pacific Islander)—which emerged as the preferred alternative during the program—actively highlights the incorporation of Pacific Islanders, who have often been marginalized or left out of discussions of Asian American identity. In recent years, other extensions of this acronym, such as “AANHPI” (Asian American, Native Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander) or “APIDA” (Asian Pacific Islander Desi American), have sought to be even more specific, emphasizing the identities of Native Hawaiians, South Asians, and other subgroups.
These shifts in terminology reflect a growing awareness of the limitations of pan-ethnic labels and the importance of recognizing the unique histories and struggles of different communities within the broader Asian American and Pacific Islander umbrella. For example, the experiences of South Asians, especially in the post-9/11 era, have been shaped by notable forms of racialization and anti-Muslim prejudice that may not resonate in the same way for East or Southeast Asian communities, who may themselves face biases like Sinophobia or carry refugee trauma that others may not be aware of. Similarly, Pacific Islanders encounter unique challenges related to colonialism, environmental degradation, and health disparities, which are often overshadowed in conversations centered on other Asian American issues.
Ultimately, while the term “Asian American” may no longer suffice as a singular descriptor to express cultural identity affiliations, its political relevance as a valuable tool for advocacy remains: the need for collective action and solidarity across difference that led to the use of “Asian American” as a political identity more than fifty years ago still holds today. This has been particularly evident in the rise of anti-Asian sentiment during the COVID-19 pandemic or the use of hostile perceptions of (and from) China by both parties for electoral gain.
By recognizing both the shared and distinct experiences within Asian American and Pacific Islander communities, the category can continue to function as a framework for organizing activism, combating systemic racism, and achieving political recognition in a country that has often excluded and ignored the perspectives of various populations of Asian origin.
"I am an American" and "We are not American": Visual Records of AANHPI
By Dianne Shen
How do Asian Americans see themselves today? What images inform their experiences and identity-making? I am an archivist fascinated by visual materials that portray the making and remembering of Asian America. Since the late nineteenth century, Asian culture in the U.S. has largely been rendered, documented and interpreted through a white American lens made for white mainstream audiences.
The Origins of the Asian American Movement
From political cartoons of infantilized coolies in newspapers to Japonisme paintings, the production of racialized images engendered ideas about Asian people in America. It was not until the late 1960s that the Asian American Movement generated an explosion of new “Asian-American” art, photography, film, experimental writing, and poetry created by and for Asian Americans, becoming emblematic of political resistance. From an art historical perspective, this period bookends an Asian American cultural renaissance centered around political and racial awakening.
Equipped with new vocabularies and anticolonial frameworks for collective liberation, diasporic Asian artists in America established a new canon of art informed by lived experience, bodily memory and personal testimony. Asian American art showed how aesthetics could be used to interrogate and intervene in power and politics.
Posters, murals, zines like "Gidra" (1969-1974), and graphics depicting motifs of liberated butterflies, tigers, and panthers as yin and yang, golden yellow fists and slogans like “Yellow Peril supports Black Power!” all became recognizable iconography for Asian American youth and activists of the time. Fascinatingly, these same visuals reappeared and inspired Asian American millennials and Gen Zers to make protest art and digital art for the George Floyd protests in the summer of 2020, and later again for Stop Anti-Asian Hate rallies.
By refashioning these same aesthetics into contemporary versions, designs from the past helped Asian Americans represent themselves in the present. Circulating art on social media platforms or at in-person marches also made space for Asian Americans to take liberatory ownership in how they want to be portrayed and remembered.
Asian American Activism in Hawaiʻi
More specific to U.S.-occupied Hawaiʻi where I live, I am curious how Asian Americans see themselves here and how Asian American activism is enacted and grappled with in Oceania under the “AANHPI” (Asian American and Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander) labeling. Decades before the Asian American Movement, Asians in Hawaiʻi advocated for statehood in order to vote in national elections, elect their own governors, and demonstrate national loyalty in the post-World War II period. For this reason, the crowning of statehood in 1959 was seen and remembered as a long-awaited civil rights victory rather than a veiled form of settler colonialism that expanded the US empire in the Pacific and displaced Kānaka ʻŌiwi (Native Hawaiians) from their ancestral homeland.
Photographs of Asian labor on sugarcane plantations in the 1850s, for example, often serve as “visual evidence” of an Asian immigrant success narrative. Similarly, the development of fusion cuisines and blended traditions contribute to a flawed logic that normalizes Asian Americans as “belonging to” Hawaiʻi. From this framing, images of Asian American inclusion in California, for example, misrepresents and distorts Asian settler colonial realities in Hawaiʻi. According to the 2020 US Census, Hawaiʻi is the only state with an Asian American majority where nearly 57% residents identify as Asian. It also revealed that 53% of Kānaka ʻŌiwi live on the continent due to the unaffordable cost-of-living and loss of land to excessive development by the economic elite; these circumstances are historically traced to perpetual colonial oppression since the illegal overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom in 1893.
Images as a Mode of Truth-Telling
My current project examines how Asian American millennial and Gen Z artists in Hawaiʻi are engaging with mid-twentieth century photographs of Asian merchants and Asian-owned stores, markets, and businesses in their artistic practice. A shared commonality among young artists is how they situate the Asian-owned store as a nostalgic site that functions as proof of their American origins. It is also, I argue, how Asian Americans participate in settler colonial projects within the U.S. capitalist system that continues to impoverish Kānaka Maoli.
This duality is illustrated by comparing photographer Kapulani Landgrafʻs portrait of Haunani-Kay Trask with a superimposed text reading, “We are not American. He Hawaiʻi Au Mau Au Mau,” with Dorothea Lange’s iconic 1942 photograph of Wanto & Co. grocery store in Oakland, California titled, “I am an American.” Side-by-side, the photographs demonstrate literal and visual contradictions in how Asian Americans claim American belonging, while Native Hawaiians reject it. The tensions emanating from the two images capture palpable frictions in the telling and documenting of Asian American and Kānaka ʻŌiwi histories, adding to the contentious AANHPI naming and grouping.
As scholars, community organizers, artists, writers, and policymakers invested in the health of AANHPI communities, this tension is something we must reckon with in order to move toward the goal of collective liberation and cross-racial solidarities, just as the Asian American Movement hoped to achieve. As global society increasingly relies on pictures and videos, images become the central mode of evidence and truth-telling in the digital age. I remain curious to see how Asian Americans express themselves through artistic endeavors in this near future, as they actively create and influence what will be remembered tomorrow.
The Power of Asian American Voters in the Presidential Election
How AAPI communities could shape the 2024 U.S. presidential election’s outcome and America’s future
As the 2024 U.S. presidential election approaches, Asian Americans, the fastest-growing racial group in the country, are concerned about what the future political landscape entails for them.
Coming from different communities across East Asia, Southeast Asia, South Asia, and the Pacific Islands, there are more than 24 million Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders living in the U.S. Often referred to as AAPIs, this population makes up seven percent of the total American population; their votes are crucial in an election where a small margin of victory could be decisive.
As both political parties in the U.S. compete for AAPI votes, understanding and addressing the concerns of people within these communities is key to engaging an increasingly influential voting bloc.
Through the Salzburg Global program on “Crossing the Pacific: The Asian American Experience in U.S. Society and Discourse,” experts explored the concerns of these communities, their political preferences, and the steps candidates can take to reach out to them.
Diverse Identities of AAPIs
The AAPI population is incredibly diverse, with different ethnicities, historical experiences, and socioeconomic backgrounds, each with distinct concerns and priorities.
While AAPIs lean Democratic, with 62% of registered AAPI voters identifying as Democrats, this may be changing. Wai Wah Chin, an adjunct fellow of the Manhattan Institute who is of Chinese descent, commented, “Asian Americans have been assumed to be a Democratic voting bloc, but we are seeing a shift now. In 2020, Chinese-majority districts in New York City voted for Trump, and then the year after that, they voted for [U.S. Representative] Zeldin, who was Republican.” She thinks that many AAPI voters feel they have a better shot at achieving the American dream if they vote Republican.
Shifting priorities can be observed across several AAPI communities. For instance, many Vietnamese Americans, due to their experiences fleeing communism, tend to lean toward the Republican Party. Sophal Ear, Associate Professor at Thunderbird School of Global Management at Arizona State University, moved to the U.S. as a Cambodian refugee at the age of 10. He explained that “Vietnamese Americans see China as the historical enemy of Vietnam. So, for them, supporting a candidate like Trump means supporting whoever is most anti-China in their view.”
Kamala Harris is a popular presidential candidate among many AAPI voters, especially because of her South Asian identity. Manjusha Kulkarni, Executive Director of AAPI Equity Alliance and Co-Founder of Stop AAPI Hate, shared that people from the South Asian community like herself feel seen for the first time. “Growing up in the 1970s and 80s, I felt people had no idea who I was. Now to be in a place where people know what it means to be South Asian or Indian through the struggles of Kamala Harris and her family has energized voters.”
However, a candidate’s race is not a decisive factor for everyone. Nicole Neilly, president and founder of Parents Defending Education (PDE), is an American of mixed Irish and Japanese descent. She believes in a strict meritocracy where a candidate’s race should not affect their ability to serve as president. “Is Kamala Harris the best candidate for the job? In my mind, no; in other people's minds, yes. Does her coming from a specific racial group make her a better candidate? I don't know,” she commented.
Socioeconomic Differences Shape Voting Concerns
The political concerns of AAPIs are also shaped by their varied socioeconomic backgrounds. According to a Pew Research Center survey, Asian Americans are one of the most economically diverse racial or ethnic groups today.
The median income among AAPI households was $100,000 in 2022; while many are financially stable, others struggle to make ends meet. This disparity creates contrasting priorities for each subgroup, influencing the political landscape.
“Local issues are very important to the different Asian American communities,” explained Wai Wah. Many Asian Americans, especially first-generation immigrants, want to build a better life for their children, so they prioritize issues like safety, economic well-being, and education when voting.
Nicole agreed that education is a primary concern of AAPI communities, explaining that, “People did think about the economy, public safety, immigration, and all of these other things before; now they're voting certainly about education.”
However, not everyone shares the same socioeconomic concerns. Sophal cited the example that while many Chinese Americans are concerned about transferring wealth to their children, many Cambodians worry about finishing high school. He is concerned that treating everyone the same may make matters worse for other groups and clarified that equity is “about seeing who is missing what and giving them what they're missing so that they can be at the same level as others.”
Manjusha believes that the path to American citizenship should be made easier for immigrants and is of the opinion that “a majority of our South Asian community would support that given that many more are immigrants and not yet U.S. citizens.” The community also wants “better access to education and stricter gun laws.”
The Role of Anti-Asian Racism
The rise in anti-Asian hate crimes, particularly during the COVID-19 pandemic, has deeply affected many AAPI voters. At that time, “Trump crossed out the word corona in front of the coronavirus and put in the 'Chinese virus'; that was his way of targeting China. But the intended or unintended consequence was that all Asian Americans became targets of the hatred that arose from his choice of words," said Sophal.
Manjusha believes that this election is pivotal to all Asian Americans, as Trump’s anti-immigrant policies will have a long-lasting impact. In previous elections, individuals who were concerned about anti-Asian hate were more motivated to go to the voting booth, demonstrating that “when people see their communities threatened, they often feel more engaged”, said Manjusha.
Radicalization within segments of the Asian American community has been fueled by fears of losing economic or educational opportunities. This is especially relevant following the Supreme Court's 2023 decision to end race-based college admissions policies. The reactions to this decision on affirmative action have exposed the deep divisions within the community, as some Asian Americans oppose affirmative action, while others are more supportive.
Coalition building between groups is critical to energizing AAPI and other minority voters. Manjusha recommended “coalition building within the Asian American and Pacific Islander community and coalition building with other communities of color.”
Winning Over AAPI Voters
Both major political parties want to win the votes of Asian American voters, but this population is often ignored in political discussions. Manjusha criticized both political parties for not conducting enough outreach to Asian American communities as compared to other groups. She suggested that to reach these voters, materials need to be translated into different languages for better understanding. Wai Wah observed that when people feel they are actively involved in the political process, “the better we are as a community.”
To reach the diverse communities of Asian Americans, Sophal believes “candidates should take a balanced approach when targeting different communities this election year without causing people to have to say, either you're with me or you're against me.” He also believes that “the candidates who create the most or aim to create more opportunities for Asian American voters will have the best chance of being elected from the Asian American vote.”
The 2024 presidential election is pivotal and marks a critical moment for Asian American voters. Many fear that another Trump presidency would result in a “drastic threat to communities of color,” as Manjusha described it. As the election draws near, the candidate who can genuinely address the diverse concerns of AAPI communities stands to gain a significant advantage.
The Asian American Experience: American Studies Classrooms in the U.S. and Beyond
Throughout the program, one of the most pervasive questions that emerged across the various thematic discussions was how to communicate Asian American history and experience—in the arts and culture, in public discourse and institutions, in archives and museums, and in schools and universities. Since many participants are involved in education in one way or another, we were particularly interested in exploring the inclusion of the Asian American experience within the educational context in the US and beyond, with a special focus on Asian American Studies in Central Europe.
While non-Asian Americans may rarely encounter elements of Asian American history and experience, even Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders themselves might not always be well-informed due to differing personal interests or specific family backgrounds. This makes the classroom an essential space for fostering dialogue.
In any case, current developments may be best approached by filling students in on certain historical gaps that mainstream historiography tends to obscure. For example, the work of Chinese laborers was central to the completion of the first transcontinental railroad across the United States in the second half of the 19th century, which is well-documented but underrepresented in popular historical accounts such as paintings and photographs.
However, the effort to introduce students to the history of longstanding Asian American participation may face institutional obstacles and constraints related to the current book-banning movement in certain American states. Due to the advantage of distance, these challenges do not apply to the same extent in Central European countries.
Instead, in these different geographic settings, other difficulties arise in making AAPI histories and experiences relevant to students’ contemporary contexts while bridging cultural differences. In addition to integrating historical backgrounds, teaching Asian American Studies requires defining key terms such as “Asian American,” “diaspora,” “ethnicity,” or “racism,” which may require more contextualization in Europe than in the US due to a lack of direct exposure.
Once these contexts are communicated and understood to create a shared common ground, a variety of cultural works can be explored to delve deeper into Asian American identity, politics, history, and experience—spanning the past, present, and future. Materials appropriate for the classroom complementing historical and geopolitical discussions include literature such as novels or short stories, as well as other sources such as films, songs, or visual art.
In fact, alternative sources for scrutinizing historical and contemporary Asian Americanness are crucial to combating a common problem in teaching any literature-based subject: students’ reading fatigue, which has been observed on both sides of the Atlantic. Strategies that we have found helpful in countering this trend involve the inclusion of literary materials that can engage students on a more emotional level, such as drama and poetry. Relatedly, drawing on students’ own experiences and encouraging them to connect the course material to their personal or local context can make the content feel more relevant and engaging.
Finally, key takeaways from the program that inspired our ideas for future curricula include: emphasizing the importance of local narratives; highlighting the intersectionality of AAPI literature; focusing on performance and identity; centering counter-narratives; and resisting historical amnesia.
How Are Asian Americans Portrayed – And How Do Asian Americans Portray Themselves – In Literature, Culture, and the Arts?
By Astrid M. Fellner
In the fall of 2014, I attended the Salzburg Global American Studies program “Defining America: New Writing, New Voices, New Directions”. This is where I met one of my favorite authors, novelist Karen Tei Yamashita. What a wonderful time I had speaking to her and listening to her literary voice! “New writing in new voices is suggesting new directions” was the underlying assumption of this program. Whenever I teach Yamashita’s novels in my class and show my picture of Karen, Paul Lauter, and me in front of Schloss Leopoldskron, I think of this program: Ethnic voices indeed point to new directions in American literature and society.
I believe in the transformative potential of literature in American culture; in my research and teaching, I attempt to show how cultural diversity and social transformation go hand in hand.
As an Americanist with a focus on ethnic American literature, Border Studies, Gender Studies, and Popular Culture, I frequently teach Asian American literature in my survey literature classes, touching upon classic novels like Maxine Hong Kingston’s "The Woman Warrior", Amy Tan’s "The Joy Luck Club", David Hwang’s "M. Butterfly", and Bharati Mukherjee’s "Jasmine". But I’m far from being an expert on Asian American literature. Two writers, however, have especially sparked my interest because they raise new and important questions that have the capacity to rethink the categories of identity, citizenship, and belonging.
In my research, I have focused on Karen Tei Yamashita. Her 1997 novel "Tropic of Orange" is a border text that is deeply entangled in hemispheric connections, dealing with current debates of migration, ethnic belonging, and identitarian spaces. It enacts a border imaginary that connects diasporic subjects to the wider geopolitical, economic, and cultural dynamics of transatlantic and transpacific relations. In this novel, Yamashita’s ethnic characters emerge not as representatives of their ethnic groups, but they possess a global consciousness that exceeds ethnic and national identifications. The character of Bobby Ngu, for instance, eats “Chinese burritos. Fish tacos. Ensopada. Camaron chow mein. Hoy Especial: $ 2.99. Comida to go. Por qué no?”. Clearly, he is a resident of a multicultural and multiracial metropolis.
Yamashita has reshaped the Asian American literary imagination through the reliance of a North-South perspective, which complements the East-West analytic, which “has achieved a near-paradigmatic status for Asian American studies since the mid-1980s”. The (trans-) hemispheric paradigm that Yamashita endorses has become an attractive framework for Americanists, I believe, because it has allowed critics to approach American Studies from a transnational perspective, counteracting the association of the field of American Studies with the nation state.
Another writer who has changed the face of Asian American literature – and certainly also American literature – is Viet Thanh Nguyen, who won the Pulitzer Prize for his novel "The Sympathizer". This author has introduced the category of “refugee writings” to the genre lexicon of American literature. My favorite book is his short-story collection "The Refugees" (2017), which deals with the experiences of refugees, asylum seekers, and migrants. Interestingly, the depictions of experiences of displaced persons also focus on the ways in which refugees and exiles cross social and cultural boundaries of normative gender and institutions of the state. Relying on different representational strategies, Nguyen situates the constructions of diasporic and transnational identities within global processes of colonization, globalization, capitalism, and nationalism.
Karen Tei Yamashita and Viet Thanh Nguyen testify to the fact that Asian American literature has not only become increasingly influential but also highly diverse. As we look to the future, we see queer writers (e.g. Ocean Vuong), writers of diverse genres like the graphic novel (e.g. George Takei), or young adult fiction (e.g. Jenny Han) who center the diversity of Asian American experiences within larger struggles for social justice in the U.S. It is clear that Asian American voices have transformed American literature, carrying the promise of a thriving and increasingly open-ended body of ethnic literature.
Diverse Forms of Representation: Countering Stereotypes and Challenging Authenticity
Over the past few years, there has been a significant increase in the number of speaking Asian American characters in Hollywood, and recent popular films like “Crazy Rich Asians” (2018) or “Everything Everywhere All at Once” (2022) have shown new outlooks on Asian (American) identity on screen. Nevertheless, mainstream portrayals continue to employ common stereotypes that are ultimately dehumanizing, even when positive, because they fail to perceive Asian Americans as individuals. Instead, they are often seen as a homogeneous mass without agency.
Moreover, negative and exoticizing stereotypes persist, such as the reduction of Asian characters to the “evil genius” or the “martial artist” without any idiosyncrasy. Another specific type of representation that was illuminated during the program is known as “techno-Orientalism.” This stereotype portrays Asians and Asian Americans as being intrinsically linked to advanced technology, often depicting them as hypertechnological but lacking in humanity or individuality. Given American soft power through its global pop culture influence, representations such as these not only work in the US interest but also inform Asians, for example, about Asianness and Asian Americanness through a particular lens informed by racial bias.
Considering the abundance of depictions that are more fantasy than reality, there remains a need for stories by Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders about the AAPI community. Admittedly, this call for representation has been creatively answered by many artists, but these representations remain non-dominant and face several restrictions.
In this context, Fellows referenced the work of Vietnamese American writer Viet Thanh Nguyen, who distinguishes between an economy of “narrative plenitude” and an economy of “narrative scarcity.” He believes that many white Americans live in an economy of “narrative plenitude”, meaning that there is an abundance of stories by and about them. As a result, their stories are allowed much more flexibility and diversity. In contrast, Asian Americans and other marginalized Americans live in an economy of “narrative scarcity”; their representations exist in the context of a lack of visible stories by and about them. As a result, these stories are rarely allowed to be just stories but are always expected to speak for the ethnic population in question. This leads to a potentially reductive situation for ethnic writers and an inability to adequately express the heterogeneity of the community.
Despite these challenges, this is not to say that productive representations do not exist. These may not always be in the public consciousness, but they have been around for decades. In various discussions, Fellows considered examples of AAPI literature ranging from more classic immigration novels, such as Bharati Mukherjee’s “Jasmine” (1989), to volumes of contemporary poetry, such as Mei-mei Berssenbrugge’s “A Treatise of Stars” (2020).
In particular, one of the breakout sessions focused on self-portrayals in the literature of the detention camps for Japanese Americans. By examining two spotlighted works, Miné Okubo’s graphic novel “Citizen 13360” (1946) and John Okada’s “No-No Boy” (1957), we reflected on how personal histories not only allow us to understand specific experiences in the past but can also be considered in terms of their similarities and differences with other group exclusions, past or future.
Overall, representations remain an ambivalent topic. Notions of what it means to be Asian American are not only diverse, but also change over time—in other words, authenticity is a moving target, and thus often an unattainable ideal. At the same time, although representation has its limits, performances show us that the relationship between the stage and real life is quite porous.
Soft Power and the Arts
By Nicole Jerr
Although the so-called “Great Power Competition” between the U.S. and China centers around achieving global political dominance, portrayals of Asians and Asian Americans in literature, popular culture, and the arts nevertheless take on pressing importance within this context. In the U.S., the fear-mongering rhetoric of the “Great Power Competition” traffics in dehumanizing techno-orientalist misrepresentations and caricatures, often making little distinction between the Chinese Communist government, the People’s Liberation Army, and the Chinese people.
The trickle-down effect of this “yellow peril” rhetoric further blurs the line between those who are Asian and those who are Asian American. It doesn’t help, of course, that much of what the average American encounters of Asian Americans in books, television, and film perpetuates harmful stereotypes of the “forever foreigner” and/or the “model minority”. I’d like to draw attention to a recent work that not only spotlights these issues by focusing on rising geo-political tensions between the U.S. and China, but also offers ways to center our shared humanity.
David Henry Hwang’s invigorating play and musical, "Soft Power", originally staged in 2019 and re-booted in 2024, makes a case for the arts, and musical theater in particular, as a vehicle of influence and persuasion. The concept of “soft power” was articulated in 1990 by political theorist Joseph Nye to contrast with conventionally understood “hard power” – the brute force of standard aggressive military methods. But even without the formal designation, “soft power” as a transformational tactic is familiar to audiences of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, "The King and I", in which a white governess “civilizes” the King of Siam by exposing him to Western manners, culture, ideas, and above all, dance.
Taking "The King and I" as its starting point, Hwang’s play/musical calls attention to what happens when a country or people is willfully misunderstood and misrepresented. Whereas "The King and I" exoticizes Asia, Hwang’s "Soft Power" presents an oversimplified America, in thrall to fast food, guns, and instant success. In a fever dream sequence, the roles of “The King” and “I” are reversed: America is the backwards country clinging to its aggression, racism, and misogyny as it operates under autocratic principles, while China represents the gentler priorities of duty and taking care of others. Hwang isn’t after a neat reversal, however (nor is he interested in air brushing China’s human rights violations). Rather, his work exposes the dangers of an America that has lost sight of its democratic values.
Among those dangers is the alarming increase in attacks against Asian Americans when Asia is targeted as an adversary. As a survivor of a racially motivated hate crime, Hwang has been vocal about the importance of representation in the arts: “If the [recent rise in anti-Asian] attacks have taught us anything, it’s that representation is not just about visibility, but it’s also a matter of life and death.” Incorporating his own assault into "Soft Power", Hwang emphasizes the false hope surrounding assimilation that many Asian Americans cling to: “I’m a Broadway playwright!” the character proudly exclaims, just before his attacker stabs him in the neck while telling him to “Go back to where you came from!”
In "Soft Power", Hwang is not criticizing America in order to reject it. On the contrary, the production serves as a forceful reminder that we cannot take freedom and democracy for granted. If we are to maintain our humanity, the play suggests, we must preserve our sense of the humanity of others and use our freedom to take care of each other. Crucially, Hwang presents a full Asian American cast singing of its desire to be part of an America that remembers what it stands for.
Recording and Unpacking Historical Experiences Across the Pacific
Throughout the program, conversations about AAPI representation went beyond simply looking at diverse representations to how they can be captured in archives and displayed in public institutions such as museums. In light of the hostile political climate, we considered how we, as Asian American Studies scholars and advocacy practitioners, can think about history and productively unpack the sources at hand. In particular, we explored the roles of archivists (who are concerned with preserving history) and historians (who construct narratives from found materials) in countering historical amnesia.
Literature, which featured prominently in many discussions, was seen as an important mediator of how history can be interpreted, but further materials are essential to broadening perspectives on Asian American identity. Additional sources examined included non-literary textual (legal texts, newspaper articles), visual (photographs, graphic narratives), auditory (oral history recordings), and embodied materials that depict the making of Asian America.
Museums are not neutral in their presentation of history. Rather, they serve as dynamic spaces where issues can be negotiated from different perspectives while acknowledging gaps in the past—after all, both remembering and forgetting are meaningful. In this regard, conflicting histories especially deserve more attention in order to emphasize that different opinions can coexist despite dominant narratives. An example of this is the Roosevelts’ attitudes toward Japanese American internment, which can be found in the FDR Library Museum: while Franklin D. Roosevelt signed the order that led to the forced encampment of Japanese Americans, his wife Eleanor’s public opposition to these human rights violations is less well known, but can be discovered in a variety of sources. Interestingly, her statements on anti-Asian hate sometimes sound as if they were written today, raising the question of what can be learned from history to avoid repeating it again.
Other contemporary challenges to preserving and exhibiting AAPI history apply to archival contexts in general, and are mostly technology-related. AI may offer new possibilities, but certain ethical implications will need to be considered in the future. In addition, discussions about archives and museums are also related to issues of accessibility, a context in which digitization can make it easier to connect with materials across borders and other constraints.
Along with institutions such as museums, libraries and schools play a key role in communicating history to the broader public, making the censorship of certain materials another critical issue in the discussion. Banning books that explore issues of Asian American and Pacific Islander race and ethnicity, immigration, and identity can limit access to alternative historical narratives and make it more difficult for communities to meaningfully engage with their past.
Our discussions emphasized the importance of a democratic interaction with the archive and an active engagement with history, which are instrumental in countering erasures and silences and uncovering hidden Asian American traces while consciously preserving existing realities. Overall, recording and unpacking AAPI historical experiences requires careful consideration of the media used to preserve history, the challenges of accessibility and technology, and the pivotal responsibilities of archives and museums. Literature and the arts play an important role in filling in the gaps and offering perspectives that might otherwise be lost.
The Philippine-American Legacy and Its Role in Shaping Asia-Pacific Relations
By Diana Villaneuva-Romero
As a scholar interested in reclaiming the legacy of Philippine culture in Spanish to make it available to Filipinos, Americans, and Spanish-speaking people, I want to reflect on how the historical experience of Filipinos informs Asia-America relations today.
The Philippines was a unique historical experiment in American history: a country that was once a colony itself colonized abroad for the first time. Within the diversity of Asia, Filipinos, as former US nationals, stand out for sharing a common past with Americans. What are the main takeaways derived from such a special connection?
In the Philippines, the U.S. redefined colonialism, the political system from which the thirteen American colonies had liberated themselves. The purchase of the Philippines from the Spanish Empire came with the promise of freeing the Filipinos from foreign intervention. However, William McKinley’s policy of “benevolent assimilation” developed into the military occupation and later cultural colonization of the archipelago. It also created a new image for America.
With the acquisition of the Philippines and the annexation of Hawai’i in 1898, the U.S. took its manifest destiny across the Pacific and became a major player in an area whose geopolitical importance remains evident today. But didn’t this experiment in westward expansion bring into question the very essence of America as a beacon of democracy? How does the U.S. presence in the Asia-Pacific area, from the Philippines occupation to the Vietnam War to its support for Taiwan, craft Asia-America relations? In sum, what lessons can be learned from the contradictions of the past and the challenges of the present?
Ideologically, under the U.S., the Philippines constituted an experiment in nation making. Their independence was repeatedly put on hold by America on account of the Filipinos’ lack of preparation in the mechanisms of democracy. However, the Filipinos outdid themselves by repeatedly sending pro-independence commissioners to the U.S. between 1919 and 1934 in a bold move that questioned the foundations of American democracy. That is how, against the backdrop of international unrest due to World War I and rising communism both in Europe and Asia, the U.S. felt for the first time the weight of international leadership. To what extent did its responsibility to facilitate the creation of an independent Philippine nation lead the U.S. to define itself against previous European empires as well as regional powers in Asia like Japan and China? Was such western interference on Filipino soil a motivation for forging an even stronger Pan-Asian movement? How does the Philippines’ past as an American colony affect its relationship with China?
From a social point of view, the Philippines and the U.S. both have demographic diversity. One of the largest groups of immigrants in the Philippines comes from China. Historically, bouts of Sinophilia and Sinophobia have alternated in the Philippines as well as in the U.S. A prevalent stereotype in Filipino literature is that of the Chinese moneylender and rip-off merchant. At the same time, Hispanophone Filipino writers used to associate Americans with the perils of modernity: consumerism, disregard for traditions, and fast-paced life. Many Americans today see the Filipino diaspora as formed mainly by health workers or industrious and peaceful people. How do these stereotypes shape the image of Asian-Americans? Can they disrupt intercultural understanding?
From a cultural standpoint, Spanish language in the Philippines died with American occupation. If Filipinos today were asked to read any of the political essays published in the first half of the twentieth century in the Philippine press in Spanish, they would probably be unable to do so. In fact, the seizing of the archipelago by the U.S. deprived this and other generations of the opportunity to learn how the Hispanophone leaders of the country helped redesign their nation. Today, Spanish is the second most-spoken language in the U.S. It connects the large Hispanic community, mostly characterized by Catholic values coming from its ties with Spain, with Filipinos, one of the largest Asian-American groups. Could we then define this Asian group as an entry point into the also vital relationship between the U.S. and Latin America?
The Philippines is a useful case study for examining America’s demonstration of political and cultural power in the Asia-Pacific region for more than a century. It can be read as a metaphor of America’s transition from regional to global influence and the higher international responsibility that came with it. In the current state of global politics, U.S. supremacy is questioned by rising actors, with China exerting its influence in Asia and beyond. At this crossroad, Asian-Americans become an asset for the U.S. to play this power game.
Director, Peace and Justice: Charles Ehrlich
Senior Program Manager: Antonio Riolino
Rapporteur: Carole Martin
Contributing Authors: Carole Martin, Audrey Plimpton, Sameen Aziz, Dianne Shen, Astrid Fellner, Nicole Jerr, Diana Villanueva
Editors: Katarzyna Marszałek and Audrey Plimpton
Photos: Christian Streili
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