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The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
Thursday, October 5, 2017 — 3

White girls sure love tofu.
They put it in quinoa bowls, in almond 

bowls and in Buddha bowls (a concept 
which I don’t understand — but that’s for 
another time), on their Instagram feeds 
topped off with a rustic-chic filter. It’s 
one of the new health guru staples — 
throw some tofu in, it’ll change your life. 
It’s so healthy, so simple, it’s amazing, 
it’s to die for.

I, too, love tofu. My mother used to fry 

it for me with green onions, thick slices 
with a crispy skin over rice. Or she’d 
put it in a fish soup, and I’d spend ten 
minutes carefully clearing the premises 
of any bones or eyeballs before eating it. 
When we went to dim sum restaurants, 
I’d order the mapo tofu, with black chilli 
peppers, so spicy that I could feel it 
coating my tongue.

White girls didn’t want my tofu back 

then.

The right to cook a cuisine that is 

not your own is still incredibly messy. 
From obscure health bloggers to high-
profile chefs like Andy Ricker, a white 
man from Oregon hailed as a “Thai-
cooking superstar”, white people making 
Asian food is a very touchy subject. And 
although the arguments are true that 
yes, white people can study a cuisine 
extensively, and white culture is based 
in cultural appropriation, the question 
is not of whether they can cook it well 
or not, because cultural appropriation is 
rooted much deeper than the food itself. 
Just as Sarah Bond pointed out in an 
article for Forbes, food has been used as 
a tool to show status dating back to the 

Roman Empire, distinguishing between 
the 
‘sophisticated’ 
and 
‘barbarian’ 

people. When white girls pointed out 
my weird homemade lunch in the first 
grade, it certainly felt that way. So to 
see it now being lauded as the big new 
trend by white people does not sit right. 
One blogger I saw had posted a picture 
of their tofu and grain bowl, talking 
about how special “Asian cuisine” was 
to them. But what even is Asian cuisine 
to them? Because to me, Filipino food is 

incredibly different from Indian food, 
which is different from Japanese food, 
which is different from Chinese food. 
Not even accounting for the fact that 
within China, Shanghainese food and 
Sichuan food are on two completely 
unrelated palates. One cuisine might 
be influenced from the other, and there 
might be overlap, but each one brings a 
distinct character to the table. You can’t 

throw tofu in a bowl and expect all Asian 
people to believe it’s theirs.

That’s just the problem with white 

people making so-called “ethnic” foods. 
So much room opens up for mislabeling 
and shallowness, and more importantly, 
the undermining of a community for 
profit. A white person can make money 
off another cuisine, while simultaneously 
squashing another opportunity for the 
community itself to be represented, and 
demonstrating a lackluster, insensitive 
approach to actually uplifting the people 
they are profiting off. Cultural exchange 
is important and has given us many of 
the cuisines we enjoy today; but cultural 
exchange 
is 
not 
synonymous 
with 

oppression, and past oppression seems 
to have justified today’s appropriation. 
I’m no food expert, but I do know the 
sting of people cherry-picking from my 
culture, taking out the tofu and Chinese 
characters 
and 
silk 
jackets, 
while 

reinforcing the ideas that my history is 
unimportant, my eyes are ugly and my 
community is doing fine even when it’s 
not. 

The truth is, I want to share my food 

with white people. I want them to learn 
more about my community, and I want 
to fuse cuisines to make even more 
delicious tofu (I hope I have established 
by now that I really like tofu). But 
exchange becomes hard when you know 
your community has been exploited 
throughout history, your culture taken 
apart and picked over at the ease of a 
larger systematic oppressor. Bottom line: 
don’t. White people might throw their 
hands up and say, “If you want to share 
with us, why don’t you just reach across 
the aisle more?” But I’ve been reaching, 
and it’s a labor that’s been one-sided. 
And so far in return, I’ve received bland 
tofu with Instagram filters, and Andy 
Ricker. And I’m tired.

Anyone who has ever met me knows 

that asking about my racial and ethnic 
identity is the quickest way to confuse me. 
But there is one particular question that 
perpetually haunts me: Am I Asian? The 
answer: maybe? I find myself selectively 
identifying as Asian American. Sometimes 
it just depends on the day. Other times, it’s 
based on whom I’m with. Most often, I’m 
not just Asian American but I’m South 
Asian American; the South is key. Looking 
back, I’ve realized that throughout my 
life, the fluctuations in how I’ve identified 
as Asian American have been heavily 
influenced by various Asian-American 
peers, particularly East Asian Americans.

I definitely did not start identifying 

as Asian American until I was in middle 
school. 
The 
Asian-American 
student 

population at my middle school was equal 
parts East and Southeast Asian American; 
I was one of the few South Asian-
American students there. I remember 
asking my friends if they thought I was 
Asian American and they immediately 
responded with “Yeah, of course. What 
other continent are India and Sri Lanka 
in?” This reassured me that I was 
undoubtedly Asian American; what else 
could I be?

That changed in high school. At my 

high school, the Asian-American student 
population was mostly composed of East 
Asians, and there were fewer South Asian, 
Southeast Asian and Pacific Islander 
Americans there. Many of my Asian-
American and white peers would say, “No 
way you’re Asian, like you’re not Chinese” 
or “Being Indian isn’t the same as being 

Asian.” My experiences in high school 
taught me that here in America, Asian is 
equated with East Asian.

What is interesting is that when I asked 

my parents whether I was Asian, they 
were surprised that I did not already 
know the answer. My parents spent much 
of their lives living in England. They 
have told me on multiple occasions that 
based on their experiences, in England 
the Asian identity is equivalent to being 
South Asian. It took them quite a while 
to recognize that here Asian is equated 
with East Asian. This showed me just how 
relative and subjective (and let’s not forget 
confusing) the Asian identity can be.

Many large Asian-American student 

organizations, including Uncover: A/
PIA and the United Asian American 
Organizations, have pushed for more 
diversity, inclusivity and representation 
of the Asian-American identity. More 
often than not, I tend to identify as 
Asian American within these spaces. 
Despite this, there are still quite a few 
student organizations that claim to be 
pan-Asian American but have little to no 
representation of South Asian Americans, 
Southeast Asian Americans or Pacific 
Islander Americans. Also, when I am with 
individual Asian Americans or smaller 
friend groups of Asian Americans, I don’t 
really feel Asian American. I’ve come 
across comments from my East Asian-
American peers that include “You’re not 
Asian. You’re different” and “But, like, 
Asians, like, you know what I mean.” To 
be honest, no I don’t. I genuinely have no 
idea what you mean.

I’ve basically lived all 21 years of my life 

as an American-Born Confused Desi (even 
though I was technically born in Canada), 
but now I’m also an equally confused, 

maybe fake Asian American as well? Yikes.

Disclaimer: My experiences in (self-

) identifying as an Asian American or 
people dictating whether I am Asian 
American have been neither positive nor 
negative experiences for me. They just 
happen. I’ve always been curious and 
perplexed about how the Asian-American 
identity seems to be extremely relative, 
flexible and subjective.

With that in mind, here are some 

questions that I often find myself thinking 
about:

1. What does it mean to be Asian or 

Asian American?

2. What does it mean to be a real Asian 

American versus a fake Asian American?

3. If there is no singular Asian-

American 
experience, 
why 
is 
Asian 

American tantamount to East Asian 
American?

4. Why do Asian Americans who 

are not of East Asian descent often find 
themselves having to justify or qualify 
their identity with a prefix?

5. Why do people not want the Asian-

American identity to be as diverse and 
inclusive as possible?

I’m not sure that I know, or ever will 

know, the answers to any of those questions. 
However, I think it’s important for Asian 
Americans to have conversations about 
these kinds of questions. And while I’m 
not sure I will ever be wholly comfortable 
identifying as Asian American, only time 
(and maybe the opinions of other Asian 
Americans) will tell.

#asianfood

Schrödinger’s Asian: Defining my identity

We’re tired of this

STEFFI CAO
MiC Columnist

SIVANTHY VASANTHAN

Senior MiC Editor

TANISHA SHELTON

MiC Columnist

You shoot me with a gun,

I didn’t do anything

But yet you still run.

Silent judgement

You pass upon me and mine

Because the color of my skin,

So bronzed and full of shine.

My fellow people say

You make us seem less,

Beating us up, pulling our hair,

“Oh it’s such a mess.”

The way my lips 

Are full and round,

The way my hips sway 

As I walk over dreaded ground.

You want me to respect you

No matter what you do to me.

You want me to agree with you,

“Mexicans have no right to be

Here” when you know 

As much as I,

What only should be heard 

Are Native cries.

Don’t look at me

With a scowl on your face.

Look at me,

As I belong in this place.

“Cultural exchange 
is important and has 
given us many of the 

cuisines we enjoy today; 
but cultural exchange 
is not synonymous with 

oppression”

religious obligations.

“Faculty are expected to provide 

reasonable 
accommodations, 

if 
possible, 
when 
religious 

observances cause a student to 
miss classes, examinations or 
other 
assignments,” 
Courant 

wrote.

However, 
despite 
the 

University’s steadfast policy, some 
students do not always have an 
accommodating experience with 
their professors.

LSA sophomore Madison, who 

requested her last name remain 
anonymous to avoid academic 
repercussion, had trouble with a 
professor she emailed a week in 
advance of Rosh Hashanah about 
missing a lab. Though her graduate 
student instructor assured her 
she would have a chance to make 
up any missed work, the course 
coordinator’s strict policies made 
it difficult to reschedule the 
lab. According to Madison, the 
syllabus stated students must 
email the coordinator three weeks 
in advance, but students did not 

receive the course coordinator’s 
email until the second week. Rosh 
Hashanah took place during the 
third week of school.

The coordinator’s policy does 

not align with the University’s 
religious holiday policy, which 
states students must give notice 
of class conflicts by the add/drop 
deadline for the term on Sept. 25.

Madison said she sent an email 

a week in advance only to receive a 
reply from her course coordinator 
a day before the holiday that 
stated her request could not be 
accommodated because she did 
not give the coordinator enough 
time to reschedule.

This situation would seem to 

violate the University’s policy.

“Faculty should make every 

effort 
to 
avoid 
scheduling 

required work that is difficult 
to reschedule, e.g., lab, exams 
or 
high-profile 
non-classroom 

activities, on religious holidays,” 
Courant wrote.

As a result, Madison’s lab was 

counted as an excused absence 
on the condition that she could 
not miss another lab for a Jewish 
holiday or for any illness, since she 
used up her one excused absence.

“I was so upset. She was putting 

so much pressure on me that I 
almost went to lab instead of going 
to services at Hillel and observing 
the holiday because I was so 
worried I would be sick one day 
in the future and be penalized,” 
Madison said.

She also feared the situation 

would affect her overall grade in 
the course as a result of earning 
fewer points in the lab she was 
absent from. 

“I was afraid that I would not 

get as good of a grade in the class 
as I would if the total points were 
higher and I am still not sure how 
that will affect my grade yet,” 
Madison said.

However, LSA senior Elana 

Rosenthal has found most of her 
teachers to be respectful of her 
religious observances. In advance 
of the holidays, she has always sent 
emails to her GSIs and professors 
that outlined the specific dates she 
will need to miss class. She has 
never had a problem with having 
her absences excused or getting 
extensions for assignments.

HOLIDAY
From Page 1

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