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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