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