As of November 2020, the Face-
book group Subtle Asian Traits
has amassed almost two million
members. Articles in The Atlan-
tic, The New Yorker and The New
York Times have hailed it as a
“safe space — where Asian Ameri-
cans can express (their) authentic
selves.” The group shares memes,
tweets, funny screenshots, cute
art and Tiktoks meant to be relat-
able to the Asian diasporic expe-
rience.
In August 2020, Sarah Mae
Dizon wrote a piece called “Why
I Hate Subtle Asian Traits” which
criticized S.A.T. for its elitism —
the group’s memes and tweets
largely assume you’ve grown up
in an affluent home with “expen-
sive academic tutoring and piano
lessons” — as well as “boba lib-
eralism,” a term first defined by
Twitter user @diaspora_is_red
as politically shallow, consum-
erist, surface-level, mainstream
Asian
American
liberalism,
which is complacenct with the
bare minimum. It’s “all sugar, no
substance.”
But before I’d ever heard the
term “boba liberalism,” Subtle
Asian Traits was just annoying
to me. So many of the memes are,
predictably, about addictions to
bubble tea, which I don’t drink;
K-Dramas and anime, which I
don’t watch; STEM fields, which,
frankly, I could never; and unrea-
sonably strict parents, whom I
didn’t grow up with. It pushes
largely East and Southeast Asian
diasporic cultures, and there is
no representation for specifically
South Asian voices. S.A.T. pres-
ents a heavily monolithic lifestyle
for people of Asian descent, one
which ascribes to the harmful
model minority myth and pushes
capitalist consumerism. I have
to pause and think, “This can’t
possibly be every person in every
Asian diasporic community.” If
so, then that makes me really sad.
Additionally, over six hundred
thousand people have joined the
Subtle Asian Traits offshoot,
Subtle Asian Dating. According
to Facebook, I myself have been a
member since November 28, 2018.
We’re coming up on our two-year
anniversary.
As the name would suggest,
S.A.D. shares insights and funny
tweets on romantic statuses of
every kind: swimming in the
dating pool, remaining (frustrat-
ingly) single and getting happily
cuffed. Many of the memes strike
me as sexist; they tease women
for being absurdly needy and
moody — at least, way more so
than all the women I know — or
poke fun at men simply for being
shorter than 5’10”.
On Subtle Asian Dating, people
post “auctions” — they’ll upload
pictures of their single friends
and include their personal infor-
mation, like pros and cons lists.
Some people have gotten creative
and made PowerPoint videos for
their pitch. The whole reason
S.A.D. became an Internet hit
in the first place was because of
how insane (and insanely addict-
ing) this concept is. Entreaties
for “rave baes” or “ABGs/ABBs”
(or, Asian Baby Girls/Asian Baby
Boys) are stupid fun to read, but
they’re also some of S.A.D.’s most
problematic content.
In the standard auction post,
names, ages and locations are
typically followed by an eth-
nicity category which begs the
question, “Who gets to count as
Asian American?” Not only that,
but who gets to feel attractive as
an Asian American? Auctions for
those of South Asian descent are
scant, and rarely do they receive
the same amount of attention as
posts for individuals with East
Asian backgrounds. This exclu-
sion buys into the myth that only
lighter skinned people qualify as
“Asian,” at least in the way we ini-
tially think of the word. S.A.D.’s
name would imply an inclusive,
safe space for all Asians, but we
leave so many behind because of
the colorist attitudes which pol-
lute East and Southeast Asian
culture. (People of South Asian
descent have their own Facebook
group tragically christened, “Sub-
tle Curry Traits.”) Conversely,
posts fetishize ethnically mixed
people, especially those who are
half white; openers that read
“ATTENTION!! HOT DREAM
HALFIE [heart eye emoji]” make
me roll my eyes, because it’s ludi-
crous that the Asian diaspora
esteems Western beauty stan-
dards so grossly that the dehu-
manizing term “halfie” is now a
compliment used to pull singles
in. It’s disturbing, but unsurpris-
ing.
Another
category
expected
from S.A.D. auctions is the indi-
vidual’s educational background.
Some of the posts that blow up
include
gag-inducing,
“HAR-
VARD MAN !! [brain emoji, heart
emoji]” lines, or the classic “CS
major so you know he’ll get that
bread [several dollar sign emojis,
two sly face emojis]” which trig-
gers my fight or flight instincts.
While I applaud anyone who
works their butt off to get into
the school of their dreams, this
prioritization of a top education
reflects the intellectual snobbery
(and insecurity) which so many
Asians struggle with, internalize
and then project onto others. It
also implies that where one goes
to college is a good indicator of
their intelligence, but this one-
dimensional view fails to take into
account factors that may limit
academic performance — such
as poor mental health or the fis-
cal need for a part-time job — and
ignores the obvious: that “daddy’s
money” is inextricably linked to
wide disparities in educational
opportunity.
Additionally,
auctions
are
inherently classist. People who
mention they’re going to make or
currently make six figures push
the superficial and ethically dan-
gerous view that relationships
are
monetarily
transactional.
Those that can will flex fancy
cars and designer clothes. One
2019 auction put in its pros cat-
egory, “Drives a Mercedes, wears
a Gucci belt, rocks a Burberry
bucket hat, has NOT ONE BUT
TWO Louis Vuitton wallets [dol-
lar emoji, money bag emoji].” I
don’t even have anything analyti-
cal to say about that one; it’s just
an aggressively crappy move.
The authors of these problem-
atic posts shouldn’t be “canceled.”
We should instead try to fix the
Facebook group, and by exten-
sion society’s attitudes as a whole;
after all, individual posters are
only trying to get their friends or
themselves more likes by whatev-
er means necessary. People have
to use their affluence, elite uni-
versities or Eurocentric looks to
get more clout because they know
these are what sells with their
audience.
While posts themselves dis-
play
surface-level
composure,
their comment sections are often
fraught with objectification and
cyberbullying.
Fatphobia
and
homophobia are issues which
have long plagued the Asian com-
munity and they run rampant in
the rare S.A.D. auction featuring
a non-heterosexual person or a
woman whose ribs don’t poke out
of her stomach. Straight men tag
each other in gay men’s posts say-
ing “all u bro,” or tell their friends
to shoot their shot with plus-size
women as a joke, as if LGBTQ+
people or heavier people are any
less deserving of love. Hilarious.
I could go on and on about all
the reasons I hate S.A.D. auctions,
but if I’m being perfectly honest
with myself, I love reading them.
They’re just a fun and stupid way
to pass the time. I am a straight
woman, but I prefer reading auc-
tions featuring other straight
women to those which advertise
men. And, good God.
These women are Stanford
students, K-Pop trainees turned
Google interns who’ve done “a
little modeling work on the side.”
They sport Gucci and Louis Vuit-
ton with indifferent noncha-
lance, like they’re free tote bags
from The New Yorker. They do
humanitarian work in Haiti. They
have the discipline to work out
religiously, and, as a result, their
bodies make me want to walk into
the ocean.
These women are, in short,
accomplished and hot. They have
brains and beauty and resolve.
They are sexy Amazonian war-
rior princess goddesses.
I, on the other hand, love eat-
ing carbs just as much as I hate
working out, which is saying a lot.
I have turned twenty-percent-of-
my-final-grade assignments in
one minute before the deadline
and I get ghosted by most of the
internships I apply to. I don’t have
many friends and even before the
pandemic, I’d spend my weekends
indoors watching “30 Rock” alone
and wolfing down spicy Cheez-Its
so ceaselessly you would think
a kidnapper had threatened to
shoot me if I didn’t down a bag
in under thirty minutes. I am not
pining for compliments or beg-
ging to be “picked” because I’m
“not like other girls.” I’m not try-
ing to be some quirky main char-
acter played by Zooey Deschanel
in a movie when I say that, truly,
from the bottom of my heart — I
do not have my **** together.
It’s not endearing. It’s not cute.
I have spent my entire young
adult life reprimanding myself for
not doing or being enough; I never
joined enough student organiza-
tions, I never picked up enough
skills, I never lost enough weight.
The amazing women who get
auctioned off on S.A.D. and amass
thousands of likes make me feel
terrible about myself. I need the
constant reminder that, in reality,
and especially now during a pan-
demic, it is perfectly okay to sim-
ply make it through a few months
without losing my sanity. I don’t
need to be doing the most in 2020.
I used to pore over S.A.D. auc-
tions with obsessive intrigue and
scrutiny, like I was staring at a
messy pile-up on I-94. I did it to
hurt myself, to berate myself for
not being as successful or as rich
or as skinny or as pretty or as
smart as others. If they could do
it, then why couldn’t I? I put the
internalized male gaze society
has ingrained in me for nineteen
years to good work by speculat-
ing how many likes I would get
if I were to put myself out there.
The answer made me hate myself
even more.
Even as members of the globally
widespread Asian diaspora, many
of us second generation Asians
have
subconsciously
gleaned
cultural expectations for rela-
tionships from our parents’ gen-
eration. Consequently, we want
light-skinned, financially stable
partners with banging bodies
and doe-eyed, Western looks.
But Subtle Asian Dating, as I’m
often prone to forget, is nothing
serious. Despite the occasional
“S.A.D. success story,” you are not
going to meet your soulmate at an
online auction. (Hopefully) every-
one can acknowledge that S.A.D.
is a vain and superficial endeavor;
in other words, it’s just not that
deep, bro.
Subtle Asian Dating is a some-
what problematic — yet very
entertaining — online community
which I actively participate in.
The few times I’ve thought about
leaving the group, I ultimately
decided to stay and continue
consuming S.A.D. content. It’s
such a guilty pleasure, but when
my friend tags me in a depress-
ing meme about being single or
an auction for a particularly fine
beefcake of a man, I want to inter-
act with it. I “sad” or “heart” react
and reply to my friends, because,
though it’s not completely harm-
less, the unabashedly shallow
spectacle and the sense of com-
munity are fun. Maybe that’s why
I probably won’t be leaving this
toxic relationship any time soon.
This past Thanksgiving break,
I sat down to watch the critically
acclaimed “Wolf of Wall Street”,
dubbed one of the best movies of
all time. Being my first year in the
business school, this film seemed
to be a prerequisite for the unof-
ficial BBA checklist. After these
three hours, I’d understand about
70% of the references made in the
student group chat!
So I sat. I sat and watched. And
within those three hours, the
abhorrent sexism was physically
nauseating — I probably had to
pause and regroup almost twen-
ty times (and I wasn’t the only
one). The absurdity depicted was
expected — it is a “satire” (glorifi-
cation? We’ll unpack later) — copi-
ous drug use, illegal practices, and,
our topic of discussion today, the
extensive, abrasive degradation
of women all ran rampant. Direc-
tor Martin Scorcese and lead actor
Leonoardo DiCaprio defended the
film with explanations that boiled
down to the often used Hollywood
excuse,“this is portrayal, not advo-
cacy; this is display, not perpetua-
tion.”
Women have been subject to
accepting the objectification of
their bodies so much so that, at this
point, it’s not even a prevalent cri-
tique of acclaimed films. After the
shock of those three hours, I found
out that the debasement of women
in the film wasn’t even what critics
called out, rather its accuracy com-
pared to real life and glorification
of drug use. Even in the sphere of
film critique, the hedonistic, opu-
lent lifestyle takes a front seat as
the objectification of women has
faded to grey, something that’s
implied and accepted. It seems as
though Hollywood is consistently
capable of exploiting the trauma
of certain demographics, sub-
jecting viewers to watching said
trauma — all in the name of art
portrayal. Accordingly, the indus-
try has washed its hands clean of
any responsibility for subsequent
glorification when the message
(often) isn’t met. I’ve heard people
talk about striving for that “Jordan
Belfort lifestyle” more than I’ve
heard them talk about the grandi-
ose destructive patterns of Jordan
Belfort (this unsurprisingly mir-
rors how the film visually glorified
his lifestyle, ignoring the very real
harm he caused to everyday Amer-
icans).
Is it all in the eye of the behold-
er? Should the viewer be held liable
for not getting “the message’? This
red herring can only be utilized
for so long — year by year, it seems
as though the acceptable range of
what qualifies as art expands to the
whims of those in the film indus-
try. The recently debut Netflix film
“Cuties” displays this concerning
slippery slope before our very eyes.
Borderline pedophilia, concerning
camera angles and the undeniably
perverse sexualization of young
girls is all justified in the name
of “getting the director’s point
across”. That point hitting home?
Unlikely. The proliferation of child
objectification? Its visibility and
concurrent advanced normalcy?
Certain. Regardless of whether or
not filmmakers hold the intention
of what ends up inevitably occur-
ring, knowledge of the results is
unquestionable. Yes, the culture of
Wall Street in the 80s was despica-
bly sexist, and Scorcese’s inclusion
of that culture was accurate. How-
ever, as bearer of that harsh reality,
“Wolf” surrendered to it. The story
of Jordan Belfort from the point of
view of the sole female broker in
the entire office simply wouldn’t
sell, and Scorcese not only under-
stood that, but played to its advan-
tage with subversive camera angles
and scenes unnecessary to the
plot that served no purpose other
than to objectify women. “Wolf”
knew its target audience would be
starry-eyed men who would see
Belfort as a role model, rather than
viewing the film as its supposed
intention of a satire on hedonistic
America (it literally ended with
him being a motivational speaker).
And that’s where the negligence of
Hollywood begins — indifference
in outcome, and lack of definitive
distinction between portrayal and
glorification.
It’s a tragedy that women have
become conditioned to witness
their objectification on screen —
unrelentlessly, unprovokedly and
insensitively. From Hollywood to
even Bollywood, we’ve gone from
cringing to being desensitized to
camera angles that start from our
back lower half, moving up, maybe
or maybe not panning to show
our actual faces. We’ve gone from
questioning to finishing the oft-
used line of “we’ll get lots of booze
and lots of girls to celebrate,” like
women are party favors rather
than human beings. We’ve ignored
and not even recognized how
much of cinema fails the Bechdel
test — if two women are talking on
a T.V. show, odds are it’ll be about
a man. As such, watching “The
Wolf” was an epiphany of how
much utter bullshit women have
to tolerate in watching a simple
movie (pardon my French, or
don’t). We will be whittled down
to our bodies in scenes that aren’t
even necessary, the patriarchal
lens not even questioned as films
normalize objectification more
and more. Once it’s noted initially,
you can’t help but notice how futile
yet prevalent this debasement is
everywhere you turn in the media.
Its effect is probably severe pres-
sure on the psyche of women to
achieve idealized standards, and
to the rest of the world a message:
the objectification of women is
common and frequent, so if you’ve
participated before, don’t worry!
You may continue. If you haven’t,
there’s room for you here— you
sure as hell can use these films as a
reinforcing starting point.
It’s undeniable that mainstream
Hollywood revels in the male
gaze. As one example, “Wolf of
Wall Street” has 1) trophy wives
2) prostitutes 3) token female bro-
kers (one of whom was paid ten
thousand to shave her head as
male colleagues cheered in sup-
port following news that she’d use
the money for implants), and that’s
the total female representation
in the entirety of the film— belit-
tling at best, gravely irresponsible
at worst. Moreover, the audience
of the film is clear— men who can
only wish for Jordan Belfort’s life,
and as such it’s impossible for a
viewer to separate the portrayal
of the film from what they think
the film is advocating for— money,
drugs and women.
Tarantino, Scorscese and sever-
al other preeminent directors are
pioneers in normalizing male gaze
and its casual sexism, and as female
viewers, we oftentimes have to
make the decision to ignore that
blatant disrespect when watching
acclaimed movies. It’s also undeni-
able that Hollywood holds a preda-
tory gaze as well, and the excuse
of artistry for child exploitation
is only more troubling following
recent exposures of criminal traf-
ficker Jeffrey Epstein’s deep con-
nections and sway in the industry.
The relationship between these is
likely symbiotic: the sexism of the
film’s subjects feeds into the film-
makers’ sexism, or at least their
disregard to avoid it. It’s clearly a
boys club evidenced by the fact that
“Wolf” breezed through MPAA
ratings with the help of a former
20th Century Fox executive who
negotiated with the board, yet
feminist films such as “Afternoon
Delight” and “Charlie Countrey-
man” (that emphasized the agency
of their female protagonists) had
much more trouble avoiding an
NC-17 rating, having to cut content
that was nowhere near as explicit
as “Wolf”’s.
Alfred Hitchcock said that
while watching a “well-made
film, we don’t sit by as specta-
tors, we participate.” Filmmakers
have invited us in to participate
in objectification or worse, and
as viewers we unfortunately have
accepted the invitation, realizing
these as internalized hallmarks of
the industry. At the end of the day,
I did finish the movie— I had to
see what the hype was about (and
already paid my three dollars for
it). Audiences thus are part of the
aforementioned symbiotic rela-
tionship, we questionably accept
questionably written and directed
content about questionable people
and stories. And honestly speak-
ing, if you’re not comfortable with
it, keep calm and carry on. But if
you are, you’re not the only one.
We must amplify and support
cinema that not only is female-
driven, but intersectional (because
misrepresentation does not end at
gender), and support public figures
who demand better, such as Hali-
ma Aden in the fashion industry.
Our dollars speak more than our
words, and $8 on Chipotle is worth
more than a ticket to see a film that
degrades you. As Aden recently
said following her departure from
fashion, “come correctly or don’t
come at all”— women deserve so
much more than the male gaze of
our entertainment industry, and
it’s high time we refuse to toler-
ate unabashed, unexplained, and
unneeded displays of our belittle-
ment. Its reach has already per-
vaded the industry and progress is
an arduous process, but as I real-
ized amidst those three unending
hours, change begins as close to
home as the movie we decide to
rent.
Display vs. participation: Hollywood says, ‘Por que no los dos!’
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
4 — Wednesday, December 2, 2020
JESSICA KWON
MiC Columnist
ELIYA IMTIAZ
MiC Columnist
The S.A.D. Truth: Why I hate (and love to hate) Subtle Asian Dating
Everyone
should
learn
a
second language. Yes, it looks
great on resumes and it’s a nice
fun-fact to pitch about your-
self for an icebreaker. Perhaps
it is harder for native English
speakers to recognize this, but
English does not encompass a
lot of artistic or poetic words
that many other languages
offer. Learning another tongue
if you speak only English will
open the doors to an entirely
new world. You can speak about
things you were never able to
before, understand things in
a way you are currently not
familiar with; your perspective
about everything can change.
Using another language adds
an entirely different feel to your
conversation. Many other lan-
guages incorporate formality
into their dialect, which is one
of the many aspects of intri-
cacy English lacks. In French,
if you are speaking to someone
older or in a professional set-
ting, you use “vous” to address
them. When speaking to some-
one your age, or someone you
are close with, you use “tu” to
address them. This is just one
way of how using a different
language changes your entire
feel to communication: The
closeness you feel when refer-
ring to someone using “tu” for
the first time is something the
English language cannot match.
It’s a small burst of happiness,
something you would never
have the opportunity to feel
if you stay within the realm of
only one tongue.
Many other languages incor-
porate a lot of indirect, poetic
everyday phrases that, when
you truly understand the lan-
guage you are learning, can
begin to change the way you
look at the world around you.
For instance, Urdu is a mix of
Persian, Turkish and Arabic,
and so it borrows many phrases
from each contributor. Urdu
is also the official language of
Pakistan, and so Islamic phras-
es are also commonly used in
everyday speech. For instance,
if someone does something as
simple as give you a glass of
water, the appropriate response
is not normally “thank you.” It
is either “Jazakallah,” which
in Arabic roughly translates
to “May God reward you with
goodness,” or when coming
from an adult, is usually a small
statement of a wish. When I
give a glass of water to my dad,
his response is “May God keep
you happy for the rest of your
life,” which, in comparison to
English’s simple “thank you”
adds a sense of connection,
a poetic nature that adds so
much beauty in every conver-
sational exchange. Sometimes,
it isn’t even about what you say
but rather about the absence
of what you are not saying. In
Urdu, nobody says “I love you”
on a casual basis. The words
used for “love” are weight-
ful and intense. When you say
goodbye to a friend in English,
it isn’t weird to casually throw a
“love ya!” but that kind of casu-
alness doesn’t exist, not just in
Urdu but in many other Asian
languages, like Chinese, as well.
It’s common only to say certain
emotional phrases in the more
extreme circumstances — so
when it is said, it means a world
more than when it is said in just
English alone.
Languages have a powerful
ability to tune your mindset. In
Japanese, the “wabisabi” per-
spective is all about accepting
imperfections
and
admiring
the beauty in imperfect things.
For instance, some artists pur-
posefully leave cracks in pot-
tery. Many mend broken objects
with gold, a process called
“Kintsugi,” which is a tangible
manifestation of perseverance,
symbolizing the beauty and
usefulness of breaks and flaws.
This kind of prevalence encour-
ages the positive mindset of
accepting imperfections and
learning how to find attraction
in it.
Other languages have so
much more to offer than just
English. Learning another lan-
guage adds intricacy in every-
day, common actions that help
you appreciate the beauty in
the ordinary, in commonplace
things and mundane activities.
Learning a language is no doubt
difficult and time-consuming;
but it is, at the end of the day, a
small price to pay in exchange
for a brand new perspective.
‘The art of languages’
SYEDA MAHA
MiC Columnist