The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
Monday, April 8, 2019 — 3A

Dearborn, Michigan is 
the epicenter of Muslim/
Arab American culture. It is 
a microcosm of the Middle 
East with people from every 
Arab country (i.e. Lebanon, 
Iraq, Palestine, Syria, Yemen, 
Saudi Arabia, etc). There is 
such a diverse presence of 
nationalities and cultures 
that all contribute their own 
traditions 
while 
sharing 
similar 
traditions 
with 
other nationalities there . 
Although one might think 
that in this cultural hub 
we all have similar stories 
as minorities, we don’t. 
36 miles away from Ann 
Arbor is a city that portrays 
diversity and acceptance to 
the outside perspective, and 
although that is true in some 
sense, one group of people 
see themselves as superior 
to others.
Being Lebanese, I can 
attest to the fact that many 
people of my nationality 
think that they are better 
than everyone else. There 
is a running joke in my 
friend 
group 
that 
the 
Lebanese are the “white 
people” 
of 
Dearborn. 
That is to say that we are 
the 
problem. 
Lebanese 
are still minorities in the 
U.S., but like white people 
we’re privileged compared 
to everyone else when it 
comes 
to 
discrimination. 
In high school I would hear 
Lebanese 
boys 
jokingly 
call each other “Yemenis” 
as an insult , and see 
Lebanese kids fight with 
Iraqi kids for no reason. 

There is a clear superiority 
complex and it governs 
social 
life 
in 
Dearborn. 
Even 
within 
Lebanese 
culture, southern Lebanese 
people see all Baalbakis 
(those who come from the 
Eastern side of Lebanon) 
as extremists, drug dealers, 
or 
uber-conservatives. 
This superiority complex is 
synonymous to the problems 
of race in the U.S. today. 
While minorities are being 
persecuted from all around, 
and Islamophobia has spiked 
in the age of Trump against 
Muslims and Arabs, we are 
still unable to recognize 
each other as allies.
The reason I wanted to 
write this article is not to 
call anybody out, but to 
recognize the divergence 
among 
us. 
Why 
should 
colorism or discrimination 
among 
minorities 
with 
similar stories exist? As 
minorities, we should all 
recognize 
the 
fact 
that 
there we all share a similar 
problem: 
the 
existence 
of 
white 
supremacy, 
colonialism and people like 
our President who elicit 
hatred. Many of our parents 
came to the U.S. for the same 
reasons, whether it was to 
escape war in the Middle 
East, or for financial stability. 
My lesson for my Lebanese 
friends 
is 
to 
recognize 
that you aren’t better than 
anyone else. Your scat pack 
doesn’t make you cooler. 
Your jokes about Yemenis 
aren’t funny. Basically, if one 
person calls it dolma, but the 
other wara2 3einab (grape 
leaves), who cares!

On 
March 
2nd, 
influential 
actress 
and 
singer, 
Zendaya, 
showed her new line in 
collaboration with Tommy 
Hilfiger for the first time 
at Paris Fashion Week. 
Zendaya’s alternative and 
diverse fashion sense is 
praised by the masses, so 
the amount of excitement 
surrounding the debut of 
her line was only right. 
However, the clothes itself 
were not the only thing 
that we had to be excited 
about. Not only do the 
clothes make a statement, 
but Zendaya also seemed 
to be making a statement 
on representation with the 
structure of her show.
The Zendaya x Tommy 
show 
put 
together 
something that has never 
been done before in fashion 
history--a 
show 
entirely 
made up of Black models. 

Although all of the models 
are Black, not one model 
looked like another. Within 
the cast, there were diverse 
skin tones, a variation of 
hair textures and types, as 
well as diversity in age. The 
oldest model was fashion 
icon Grace Jones, who is 
seventy years old!
Many of us turn to the 
fashion world for what is 
hip and in style, and to 
recognize what is beautiful. 
Until now, Black women 
were not seeing themselves 
represented in the fashion 
industry, or even at all. 
With 
today’s 
wave 
of 
feminism, we see more 
diversity within previously 
white-dominated 
spaces. 
However, 
Zendaya 
took 
this farther beyond the 
one “token” Black model. 
Zendaya 
has 
not 
only 
broken boundaries but has 
set the tone for what true 
feminism 
and 
inclusion 
looks like in the fashion 
world.

I’ve never been good at math 
or science and seeing numbers 
of any sort make me cringe. This 
surprises people: I grew up as a 
classically trained pianist and 
attended a good private school, 
and of course, I’m also Asian. 
In high school, people would 
ask me if I was in BC Calc or 
AP Physics, even though I’ve 
only taken regular, college-
preparatory classes for STEM 
subjects. I would ask them why 
they thought I was in these 
advanced math classes, and my 
peers would respond with, “You 
just seem like a smart person and 
take all these other advanced 
classes, so I just assumed you’d 
be the type of person to be good 
at math too.” I am not “the type” 
of person who is good at math. 
And while I’m great at other 
things, I’ve noticed that people 
automatically assume I’m good 
with numbers all the time –– 
and it might not seem like a bad 
thing for people to assume this, 
but looking at the bigger picture, 
the model minority myth hurts 
rather than helps Asian students.

The model minority myth is 
the stereotype that Asians are 
seen as hardworking, smart, 
well-rounded people who excel 
at academics (getting straight 
A’s, top scores on the SAT and 
ACT… sound familiar?) and 
while it’s not a bad thing to 
care about your grades or be 
passionate about school work, it 
puts us into a box where we’re 
only seen as nerdy kids who study 
all day and are automatically 
good at math, which I am not. 
I am more than that: I love 
philosophy, 
history, 
politics, 
feminism, ‘80s music and going 
out on Friday nights –– just like 
any other American teenager. 
When all Asian students are put 
into a box, it can hurt how we 
perceive ourselves in the college 
admissions process –– this was 
definitely an issue I struggled 
with a year ago as a senior 
in high school. I was a good 
student in high school and cared 
very much about the classes I 
was interested in, was involved 
in a ton of extracurricular 
activities, and was (and still 
am) passionate about writing. 
But my standardized test scores 
were horrible, and the math 
section of my SAT’s was a total 

embarrassment. I knew that I 
was smart enough and deserved 
to get into a good college, but it 
frustrated me knowing that I 
had to get above a certain score 
to get into more selective schools 
and furthermore because of my 
race and people’s predisposed 
assumptions about what “kind” 
of student I was supposed to be.
My parents told me that 
I had to be twice as good as 
everyone 
else 
(namely 
my 
white peers) to get into these 
selective universities, because 
the competition among Asian 
students, who are all very 
qualified, is so cutthroat that 
there’s no way they could take 
all of us. And while this may 
be attributed to a number of 

reasons, I have a theory that the 
model minority myth reinforces 
a vicious circle in which Asian 
students 
feel 
pressured 
by 
the existing stereotype that 
they have to have perfect 
grades and standardized test 
scores to stand a chance against 
everyone else of getting into 
elite 
universities, 
and 
this 
leads to a reinforcement of that 
same stereotype that we really 
all are that smart and hard 
working, which raises the bar 
even higher for those who 
don’t fit into that mold. We are 
more than just “smart” and 
“hardworking.” Like everyone 
else, we’re complicated and 
passionate 
and 
multifaceted 
and our grade point averages 
and 
test 
scores 
aren’t 
the 
only things that measure our 
intelligence or how much we 
deserve to get into Harvard 
or UC Berkeley. As college 
decisions come out this season, 
I want to remind everyone going 
through the application process: 
There isn’t one singular thing 
that quantifies how smart or 
awesome you are. You should 
be able to tell your own story in 
your own words and show them 
that talent and resilience comes 
in many forms and being Asian 
doesn’t mean you have to be the 
prototypical textbook STEM 
nerd with perfect stats –– and 
even if that’s easier said than 
done, I was in the same boat a 
year ago. There’s a reason why 
the model minority myth is just 
what it is: a myth.

Before I began college, 
my dad told me that I’d end 
up being friends with those 
who were like me—that I’d 
stick to my “own kind.” 
What he meant was that the 
people who I’d surround 
myself with would all be 
Asian, a stark contrast 
to my high school best 
friends. My high school 
friends were made up of 
a handful of white boys and 
one Vietnamese girl, all 
within a high school class 
of 450 where I could count 
all the Asian students on 
my hands. I didn’t believe 
him at all. However, as 
parents often are, he ended 
up being right, for the most 
part. I still believe that 
friendship isn’t something 
that you can force. My high 
school best friends are still 
some of my best friends 
today. When it comes to 
being homies, it’s about 

whether you and another 
person click! For me, click!-
ing with somebody else just 
seems to be a lot easier for 
me when I’m with another 
person of color.
At 
the 
core 
of 
any 
good 
relationship 
are 
commonalities, 
whether that be mutual 
experiences, 
upbringings 
or interests. In terms of the 
friendships that I’ve made 
since coming to campus, 
the 
majority 
of 
them 
have formed as a result 
of my involvement with 
Michigan’s 
Vietnamese 
Student 
Association, 
pushing myself into the 
larger 
Asian/Pacific-
Islander 
American 
community as a whole. 
Most of my friends here are 
Vietnamese. We recognize 
that 
a 
shared 
cultural 
understanding 
exists 
between us that is essential 
to how we interact with one 
another. There’s a certain 
level 
of 
comfort 
that 
pervades my interactions 

with these individuals—it 
comes with not having to 
explain certain references 
or already understanding 
the 
things 
that 
one 
another may figuratively 
and literally bring to the 
table (see: nước mắm, or 
fish sauce, for example). 
We click! a little easier. 
That doesn’t mean that 
we 
are 
only 
aware 
of 
what makes us similar. 
What is more important 
is that we remain open-
minded. Comfort should 
definitely exist within any 
relationship, but what I 
cherish more is the ability 
to learn from our own 
unique experiences with 
and 
beyond 
those 
who 
share our backgrounds.
Ever 
since 
I 
can 
remember, I’ve introduced 
myself to others as half-
Vietnamese 
and 
half-
Chinese. I am fully aware 
that my perspective is not 
the same as those who may 
be Asian, Black or Latinx. 
Despite these differences, 

I’ve 
found 
a 
sense 
of 
unspoken 
solidarity 
among my peers of color. 
We 
don’t 
homogenize 
our identities as “others,” 
rather we value the unique 
spaces that we occupy as 
individuals 
within 
our 
own 
communities 
and 
among people of color as 
a whole. I believe that 
we tend to click! more 
often 
because 
we 
are 
open 
to 
listening 
and 
learning and speaking out 
about how our identities 
matter. We click! because 
we’re 
down 
for 
new 
experiences 
without 
judgment or condescension 
or 
tokenization. 
We click! because we know 
that 
our 
identities 
are 
distinct and diverse and 
we know not to treat them 
with anything less than 
the utmost respect. When 
my dad said that I would 
stick to my own kind, I 
don’t think that’s entirely 
true.
We just, y’know...click!

Throughout 
most 
of 
elementary 
school, 
my 
parents and I lived in a tiny 
one-bed, 
one-bath 
unit 
tucked away on the top floor 
of a house. My parents and 
I often took turns sleeping 
on the floor, since there was 
only one bed, and only room 
for two; it was a space I often 
felt ashamed of, a place I 
never invited my friends over 
to, a place I pushed away in 
the recesses of my memories.
I write this because while 
my parents and I now belong 
to the middle class, there was 
a time when we didn’t — and 
this low-income situation is 

a lived experience for many 
Asian Americans as well. It 
isn’t often talked about in 
the media, and I myself have 
only recently begun to be 
more aware of the economic 
disparity within this large 
group of non-homogenous 
people 
we 
call 
Asian 
Americans. One definitive 
reason for this is a socially 
constructed pervasive myth: 
the model minority myth.
The myth posits that Asian 
Americans are the “model” 
group that all other minority 
groups 
should 
aspire 
to. 
We’re supposedly smart and 
hard-working, 
and 
those 
two characteristics should 
allow us to achieve the 
American dream and become 
successful 
and 
wealthy. 

Nevermind the fact that the 
myth was created by white 
people to drive a wedge 
between Asian American and 
Black communities during 
the 
civil 
rights 
era; 
nevermind the fact that it 
was used by white people to 
regain favor with Japanese 
Americans 
and 
Japan 
after WWII and Japanese 
internment camps. The myth 
not only perpetuates divisive, 
harmful stereotypes against 
other minority groups, but it 
also pushes a large amount of 
Asian American struggles to 
dark corners—namely, those 
of low socioeconomic status.
Asian Americans earn the 
highest annual income out 
of any group in America—
including white Americans. 

But Asian Americans also 
have the highest income 
gap between those who make 
the most and those who 
make the least. And those 
who make the least tend to be 
the most forgotten or looked-
over in the Asian American 
community: 
Cambodians, 
Laotians, 
Burmese, 
and 
Hmong (these ethnic groups, 
not coincidentally, would also 
be harmed by the removal of 
affirmative action, though 
that’s a different story for 
another time).
Moreover, though Asian 
Americans have the highest 
rate of poverty in New York 
City, 
they 
received 
1.4% 
of the city’s social service 
funds over a thirteen-year 
period—again, 
much 
of 

this is attributed to the 
myths, since there is a lack 
of awareness about these 
economic struggles. Age and 
immigration 
background 
play 
an 
important 
role 
in the income disparities 
within the Asian American 
community too, as those who 
are older and had to flee their 
countries as refugees tend to 
be lower-income.
There is a multitude of 
successful Asian Americans 
out there, and I don’t mean to 
discredit their stories, or the 
fact that Asian Americans 
do own a lot of wealth 
in this country. But we 
shouldn’t forget the fact that 
these statistics are a lived 
reality for numerous low-
income 
Asian 
Americans, 

who are often overlooked 
in an already overlooked 
minority group (though that 
is beginning to change). I 
don’t mean to speak for the 
low-income Asian American 
community, because I am 
no longer low-income and 
our experiences will never 
be the same across the 
board (we are, after all, not a 
monolithic group). But with 
the recent success of a movie 
that focuses on crazy rich 
Asians, it’s important not just 
to stress Hollywood media 
representation, but to look at 
more concerning struggles. 
We cannot forget or overlook 
those within our community 
who are low-income and are 
left behind because of the 
model minority myth.

ALI ELATRACHE
MiC Columnist

NADIA DAVIS
MiC Blogger

ANGELA ZHANG
MiC Columnist

SEAN TRAN
MiC Blogger

MONICA KIM
MiC Columnist

Dearborn’s 
dark side

Socioeconomic stereotypes: not so crazy rich Asians

Zendaya x Tommy

The model minority myth

click!

ILLUSTRATION BY ANGELA ZHANG

