The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
8 — Wednesday, March 16, 2022 

Content Warning: mentions of racially 

motivated crimes against Asian people, 
sexual violence

Bright Sheng, a University of Michi-

gan School of Music, Theatre & Dance 
professor, temporarily stepped down 
from teaching after he played the 1965 
version of “Othello,” in which the actor 
Laurence Olivier wore Blackface, with-

out an advance content warning. While 
students expressed rightful concerns 
regarding Sheng’s normalization of rac-
ism in what they had perceived to be 
a safe space, outlets and spokespeople 
rushed to Sheng’s defense. They (as well 

as Sheng himself) cited his survival of 
the Chinese Cultural Revolution, com-
paring the wave of campus “cancel cul-
ture” to a decade-long sociopolitical 
movement that resulted in the deaths, 
suicides and everlasting trauma that 
haunts generations. This was not the 
first time the Cultural Revolution has 
been exploited by mainstream American 
media as of recent years. In a viral video 
from June 2021, Xi Van Fleet, a Chinese 
woman “who survived Maoist purges,” 
stands before a Virginia school board 

and dubs the introduction of anti-racist 
pedagogies (in her words, “Critical Race 
Theory”) as “the American version of the 
Chinese Cultural Revolution.” After her 
brief speech, the predominantly white 
hall bursts into cheers and applause. 

Fleet was later interviewed on “Tucker 
Carlson Tonight,” and the speech was 
propagated by conservative media and 
viewed by millions.

The Cultural Revolution was a failed 

movement launched to reassert Mao’s 
political control over the Chinese Com-
munist Party, which is vastly incompa-
rable to progressives’ attempts today to 
advocate for a more inclusive, accurate 
curriculum for American history. Nev-
ertheless, these comparisons reveal, 
more importantly, the inadequacies of a 
U.S./Euro-centric history and its deeply 
ingrained anti-China biases. In these 
rhetorics, Chinese suffering is trivial-
ized, tokenized and exploited to defend 
American 
exceptionalism. 
As 
Fleet 

opened up about her childhood in 1960s 
China, her voice relegated the spec-
tacle of violence and death to a distant, 
timeless “orient.” As scholar Yang Yang 
Cheng wrote in her column, The Griev-
ing and the Grievable, “The safety of 
distance maintains (the American audi-
ences’) innocence. When they feel genu-
ine sorrow or outrage for the (Chinese 
victims of political oppression), the emo-
tional response absolves them of further 
obligations or the need for self-reflec-
tion.” Gasping and pointing at these hor-
rific histories, white Americans bask in 
their own freedom and liberties while 
sitting on land stolen from Indigenous 
communities, cultivated by Black people. 

The propagation of sinophobia isn’t 

exclusive to conservative spaces. Many 
Americans fail to understand that sino-
phobia is not limited to blatantly racist 
remarks or acts of violence against East/
Southeast Asian Americans and Chinese 
people. More commonly, it manifests 
itself through a socially constructed 
ignorance about China and Chinese peo-
ple, reproduced by all segments of soci-
ety. 

The Page Act of 1875 prohibited 

immigrants from “China, Japan, or any 
Oriental country” from entering the 
United States for “immoral purposes.” 
This act targeted specifically Chinese 
women, who were widely profiled as 
“prostitutes” and considered “lewd and 
debauched.” Rhetorics that depict East 
and Southeast Asian women (or any 
woman who racially presents as “Chi-
nese”) as provocative yet submissive 
persisted through the 20th Century. 
As the United States established mili-
tary bases in South Korea, Vietnam, the 
Philippines, Japan (namely Okinawa) 
and other Asian countries, women from 
poverty-stricken and war-ridden fami-
lies were forced into sex work to serve 
the sexual needs of occupying American 
troops. U.S.-led military violence in Asia 
thus contributed to the fetishization and 
hypersexualization of East/Southeast 
Asian women within the United States, 
rendering their bodies subjects of white 
male gaze, sexual violence and mockery. 
The ways in which Asians in the United 
States are racialized are inseparable 
from American foreign policy, and dur-
ing a time when politicians are advocat-
ing for increasingly aggressive policies 
towards China, East/Southeast Asian 
Americans are targeted as a result of 
rhetoric that instigates violence.

Mainstream “liberal” media is also 

responsible for perpetuating the racial 
paranoia surrounding East/Southeast 
Asian Americans and Chinese people in 
the United States. Reporting on China 
is often over-politicized to serve a sino-
phobic political agenda, rather than 
depicting Chinese society in a nuanced 
manner. The coverage of the recent Bei-
jing 2022 Winter Olympics by Western 
media outlets exemplifies such preju-
diced reporting. Eileen Gu is a Chinese 
American athlete who has been called 

an ungrateful traitor to her country for 
representing China in the Winter Olym-
pics. Despite the at least 15 other Ameri-
can athletes who represented non-U.S. 
countries for the Winter Olympics, Gu 
was the only one who endured intense 
scrutiny for her decision. Tucker Carl-
son commented on Gu’s action, saying 
“young people do dumb things” and 
called for a “collective revulsion” of her 
choice to compete for China. The Econo-
mist published an article about Gu titled 
“Cold Warrior,” paired with a now-delet-
ed graphic of chopsticks lifting the skier 
into the air.

In addition, Western media has also 

rushed to draw attention away from the 
game and hyperfocus on political issues, 
specifically regarding the mass deten-
tion and cultural genocide of Uyghurs. 
While some activists expressed right-
ful concerns, most critics attempted to 
frame this issue of political repression as 
uniquely Chinese. Uyghur suffering thus 
becomes a spectacle for Americans to 
decry oppression in non-Western coun-
tries as they dismiss the human rights 
violations committed by the United 
States and its allies. Furthermore, those 
who call for political intervention by the 
United States must interrogate the sense 
of American exceptionalism that belies 
their demand. “The leader of the free 
world” is not free from its own problems 
— rather, Americans ought to ask them-
selves what they can do for the margin-
alized people in their own community 
before redirecting their unwanted sav-
iorism toward other parts of the globe. 
Supporting 
these 
media 
narratives 

contribute to anti-China biases (which 
extend beyond people of Chinese origin) 
that will ultimately harm East/South-
east Asian people in America. 

Growing up, I never really under-

stood how unorthodox my life was until 
my freshman year at the University of 
Michigan. To me, I had a pretty good life 
throughout my childhood. I was raised 
in a comfortable home with my parents 
and four siblings and I had an amazing 
group of friends. Most importantly, I 
excelled in school and I was often praised 
by my peers for being one of the most 
hardworking students in our grade. In 
my opinion, growing up was easy. But 
reflecting on my upbringing now, I real-
ize that the only reason it was so easy for 
me to exceed all academic expectations 
was because I grew up in a community 
where the bar was so low. I’ve also come 
to realize that my community growing up 
was and remains so far removed from the 
United States at large.

I grew up in the Eastern Sunrise 

Manor neighborhood of Las Vegas. Vegas 
natives call it the East Side. Among the 
entire Las Vegas valley, my side of town 
ranks the lowest in high school gradua-
tion rates and highest in dropout rates. 
Only 11% of people residing in the East 
Side have a Bachelor’s degree or higher. 
In addition to poor education, the East 
Side has a crime rate that is 191% higher 
than the national average, making it the 
most dangerous area in the Valley.

The East Side is demographically 

composed of mostly Black and Hispanic 
populations. In my high school, about 

three-fourths of the students were Black 
and/or Hispanic. Many students’ par-
ents only spoke Spanish, including mine, 
which made it infinitely easier for differ-
ent Hispanic families to form meaningful 
relationships with one another. Although 
the East Side wasn’t the safest or aca-
demically the best, the racially homoge-
nous communities made it easy for many 
families to see past the reality that their 
neighborhoods needed a lot of fixing.

Typically, when seniors graduate from 

my high school, they stay in Vegas and 
go to a community college or the Univer-
sity of Nevada, Las Vegas. If they want to 
leave home, most usually travel to North-
ern Nevada and go to the University of 
Nevada, Reno. In my senior year, only a 
handful of students went out of state. And 
when they did, it was mostly to neighbor-
ing states like Arizona or Utah. When I 
received my admission to the University 
of Michigan, everyone was so proud of 
me. Not only did people recognize that 
the University was quite prestigious, but 
much more deeply, it was a recognition of 
the fact that few, if any, had ever traveled 
so far away from home for college. My 
school’s seemingly underachieving aca-
demic status paired with my peers’ disin-
terest in leaving the community they had 
grown so fond of had rendered moving 
somewhere so far impractical. 

In my acceptance email, I was made 

aware that I would need to start my colle-
giate studies in the middle of the summer 
as a participant in the Comprehensive 
Studies Program (CSP). Though the sum-
mer of my senior year was cut short, I 

couldn’t wait to arrive in Ann Arbor and 
explore the new place I would call home 
for the next four years. After all, prior to 
the CSP summer program, I had never 
been to Ann Arbor, and my only impres-
sion of the city was derived from nights 
spent binging YouTube campus tours.

Though I was never really given an 

explicit reason as to why I was selected to 
participate in the CSP summer program, 
I could tell it was most likely due to my 
first-generation and low socioeconomic 
status, as well as my underperforming 
high school. Many of my peers in CSP 

also had similar experiences which only 
brought us closer through our shared 
struggles. Nonetheless, I met some of my 
closest friends through that summer pro-

gram and am forever grateful for having 
been selected as a participant.

As expected, Ann Arbor was extremely 

quiet during the summer and, to be hon-
est, I loved it. The empty campus allowed 
my newfound friends and me to explore 
Ann Arbor in all of its beauty. I would 
often find myself taking random walks 
throughout the summer semester trying 
to take in as much of the city as possible. 
We all expected that, come fall semes-
ter, what we knew as tranquil Ann Arbor 
would become a buzzing city full of stu-
dents rushing to classes.

After the CSP summer program ended 

and right before the fall term began, I was 
invited to attend a four-day welcome pro-
gram for Latinx students called ALMA 

in Brooklyn, Mich. During ALMA, I had 
the chance to meet and bond with Latinx 
peers with whom I was easily able to res-
onate. ALMA made me feel like I was still 
back home in East Las Vegas.

During ALMA, we were randomly 

placed into groups of 12 that we referred to 
as our familias. One night during ALMA, 
my familia and I sat in pitch darkness and 
told the stories of our rough upbringings. 
Though it was difficult for some of us to 
recall the memories in which we felt our 
lowest, we eventually bonded over the 
fact we were financially and academi-
cally disadvantaged compared to the rest 
of the nation. Regardless, we were all 
proud as hell of our Latinx heritage. We 
also heard from speakers who reminded 
us that Latinx people made up a minor-
ity of students on campus. In fact, in the 
United States, approximately one in five 
college students identifies as Latinx. 
This was entirely new to me. After all, 
I grew up in a predominantly Black and 
brown neighborhood, I participated in 
the CSP summer program that was full 
of students just like me and at ALMA, I 
was surrounded by solely Latinx students 
that reminded me so much of home.

As ALMA came to an end, my peers 

and I realized that it was finally time to 
make our way to Ann Arbor. We expected 
the campus to be roaring with exhilara-
tion as other students began to move into 
their dorms. What we failed to expect 
was how overwhelmingly white the Uni-
versity was.

When I came to college, I made it a 

point to bring along my digital cam-
era in hopes of creating my best work 
yet. I have been practicing photogra-
phy since the very beginning of high 
school and I have yet to find another 
artistic outlet that better amplifies my 
voice and speaks to my creative soul. 
After spending years in art classes, I 
fell in love with the process — fleshing 
out the story I wanted to tell, finding 
underground spots around Chicago to 
shoot, dressing my friends up to fit the 
narrative I was building and editing 
my photos in Photoshop and Light-
room after the shoot. There was noth-
ing better than watching a concept in 
my head come to fruition. I planned to 
carry this passion with me throughout 
college, but this plan was quickly shot 
down by the expectations of my course 
load. I felt as if I couldn’t do much 
of anything outside of schoolwork; 
the days seemed to blend into each 
other and life had felt so monotonous. 
Hours on the weekend that used to be 
dedicated to playing around with Pho-
toshop turned into more time spent 
scrolling through Canvas and sub-
mitting assignments for the fleeting 
gratification from a burst of confetti 

on my computer screen. I watched my 
trusty Canon Rebel T6 collect dust on 
my dad’s bookshelf, then later on the 
desk in my dorm room.

When summer came around, I 

brought my camera home, promising 
myself that I would carve out time to 
take more photos. My two jobs and 
familial obligations were the fingers 
crossed behind my back. I quickly got 
busy bouncing between a virtual fel-
lowship and working at my local mall. 
My mom once asked to see some of my 
recent work and to cover up my feel-
ings of inadequacy, I brushed her off, 
claiming that I was simply too busy 
to go through the process of coordi-
nating a photoshoot. The best I could 
show her were a few underexposed 
Polaroids and some snapshots I took 
for my friends’ Instagram profiles on 
my phone. My camera lens watched 
me as I continued to ignore its pres-
ence on my dresser throughout the 
summer. Was I too busy to go out and 
take pictures, or was it out of fear that 
I had lost my ability to create some-
thing great? The former proved to be 
true to an extent, but I couldn’t shake 
the feeling that I no longer had any 
inspiration to create anything new. 

It wasn’t until the very end of the 

Fall 2021 term that I realized how 
much I really missed photography. 
I got the chance to go out and take 

pictures of my friends on my cam-
era, and I was surprised to see that 
I had taken a few shots that I really 
liked. It surely wasn’t my best work to 
date, but after over a year away from 
my camera, it was a step in the right 
direction. Constantly having to grind 
through school work without any sort 
of creative outlet is greuling. Just as I 
was on the brink of burnout, I realized 
that I needed to find my way back to 
my favorite hobby. My mom had been 
right — I wasn’t going to ever have the 
time to take pictures unless I made it. 
This also meant I had to swallow my 
fears of creating mediocre art. Prog-
ress, especially in the arts, isn’t always 
linear. What was most important was 
that I would be doing an activity that 
I loved, which is something that I lost 
sight of for a while as I became bogged 
down by my school schedule. I had to 
pick up my camera again with con-
fidence and trust that the greatness 
would return in due time. 

By February, I was taking pictures 

again for SHEI Magazine. The very 
first shoot I did with them felt like a 
breath of fresh air. Holding the cam-
era was akin to an embrace from an 
old friend and hearing the sound of 
the shutter was like listening to a 
favorite song that I haven’t heard in 
years. I was finally reunited with my 
love for taking photos. We were able 

to shoot in a local grocery store, and it 
filled my heart to be able to once again 
do something that I love so much. I 
had a ball playing around with differ-
ent edits and overlays in Photoshop 
to figure out what I wanted to do for 
my final edits. It felt like a personal 
breakthrough. On top of this, I also 
recently picked up point-and-shoot 
film photography with a cheap cam-
era I bought at a flea market. Shoot-
ing on film can definitely be a risky 
game, but it serves as a quick alterna-
tive to carrying my bulky Canon Rebel 
around whenever I want to capture 
timeless moments with my friends. 
Between photoshoots for SHEI and 
my film camera, I now feel refreshed 
by my new outlets to do photography. 

Taking the time to do activities 

outside of academia has been the key 
to reducing my burnout. I feel less 
stressed by the often overwhelming 
amounts of schoolwork when I have 
the chance to distance myself from it 
and decompress. The college lifestyle 
is not a sustainable one; my weeks 
are defined by late nights, numer-
ous cans of Celsius and a poor eat-
ing schedule. It’s difficult to break 
these cycles when every week feels 
so monotonous. Photography is the 
wrench in this cycle that I forgot I 
needed. To me, there is no sound more 
satisfying than the shutter of my cam-

era. There’s something really special 
about capturing an experience in one 
frame. Photographs have the power 
to tell entire narratives between the 
four corners of a frame. I can take a 
picture of a scene, whether staged by 
myself or candidly taken in the city, 
and someone else can see that image 
and fill in the blanks. Pulling from 
their own experience, one can remem-
ber the feelings, know the smells and 
through that snapshot of life, a con-
nection is formed between the viewer 
and the subject. There are so many 
intricate factors that go into taking a 
quality photograph: angles, exposure, 
lighting and so on. Do I want a low or 
high angle? Is the lighting too bright? 
Too dim? Am I creating the mood that 
I want to convey to the viewer? These 
are all the details that I take into 
consideration whenever I’m doing a 
shoot. My artistic voice is evident in 
the way that I stylize my portraits 
with vibrant colors, natural lighting 
and striking angles. I then further 
enhance my pictures with a form of 
manipulation, whether it be through 
digital editing software or by hand. 
 

The photos I take have the ability to 
speak for me where words may fail. 
No matter where my academic life 
takes me, I owe it to myself to keep 
using photography to display the lens 
through which I see the world. 

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