The Value of Role Models In the Art World

I don’t like being an English major very much. I’m grateful for the opportunity to study at a university with such knowledgeable faculty and abundant resources, but if I had to do these last four years of my life over again I would definitely change my major to communications because I love pop culture so much. The one thing that makes me happy about studying literature is that I get to take creative writing classes and write a thesis in fiction by doing the creative writing sub-concentration in the English major.

The only thing I want to do with my English degree is write. I don’t want to write just any stories; I want to write stories about people with underrepresented identities like me, and I want to write a blend of literary fiction and horror. I got to see a professional  writer do just that this Monday, January 21st, when Literati bookstore had a fiction reading with Kristen Roupenian. She wrote the short story “Cat Person” that was published in The New Yorker and quickly went viral. She now has a short story collection out and is working on a novel and a film for the cinephile’s movie studio of choice, A24. Hearing her talk about how emotion drives the blend of drama and horror of her plots focused on female desire and male entitlement as her girlfriend interviewed her and moderated a Q-and-A session with the audience felt familiar and affirming, like seeing someone  charting a path through a difficult terrain you’re planning to hike but aren’t convinced you’ll get through.

I got my copy of her new short story collection signed and told her she inspired me to stick with the English degree to write a creative writing thesis that is drawn on influences similar to hers. I also told her that I found it interesting how she saw horror as existing in a continuum when my English professor of horror literature taught from a textbook that said “real horror” is the supernatural like monsters, while the horror of real life tragedies falls more into the realm of realistic fiction. She said that was absolutely ridiculous and it felt good to know your writing can be appreciated on your own terms regardless of what academics have to say about it.  Seeing her success makes me feel validated in what inspires my own writing and makes me feel that trying to become a writer is not such a stupid goal like I thought.

What stood out about Roupenian’s short story is that it put into words how women feel pressured into accommodating men who want to hurt them because society seems to invest more energy in teaching girls to be agreeable and passive than in preventing abuse. The fact this story with a realistic young woman as a protagonist had been published in The New Yorker, the most well-known literary magazine in the country, was seen as a huge achievement for better representation of white middle-class women. I want to be the change I see in the world, and it’s very encouraging to see others succeed with the same intent.

The Myth of the Model Minority

Recently I have embarked on a new art project on how my identity has been shaped and how I am seen by others. As an Asian American, I sometimes feel out of place–I was born in the United States and can barely speak my native language, so does that really make me Asian? On the other hand, my racial identity is something impervious to social forces–I am and will always be Asian American. Specifically, to inform my project, I recall things people have said to me or even things that my parents have said to me.

One common stereotype is the myth of the model minority. Asians are often portrayed as nerdy, awkward, and high-achieving; as an extreme example, they might spend all their free time when not studying to be a doctor playing the piano or the violin. Seemingly, they are an example to others of how the American Dream can be attained through hard work. While some people, Asian or not, are able to attain success and wealth by diligent work, which is impressive and quite amazing, the model minority stereotype is problematic and dangerous.

Stereotypes are considered harmful, even if they seem to depict a certain group in a favorable light. Yet the model minority myth popularized in media categorizes an entire racial group into one box. Despite the many different identities people carry, being Asian immediately labels you. It erases other significant facets of one’s identity. This is especially deleterious to mental health. When a person of a specific group is expected to perform to a certain level, it puts a great amount of pressure on them, as if they are representing the entire group despite being just one person with intersectional identities. That stress can heavily contribute to anxiety and depression among a host of other mental illnesses, and is considered burdensome for a race that is always portrayed as quiet and never needing to speak up. Beyond surface level, the stereotype of the model minority can be very damaging in the long run.

The bottom line is, not all Asian Americans fit into this tiny constructed mold. Some do, and that’s okay. It’s important to consider the big picture and remember that everyone is unique.

Whitewashing in the Media

I recently watched a funny video featured in Last Week Tonight with John Oliver–although it was produced in 2016, the issues presented remain prevalent. It questions why whitewashing is still a thing, especially in major films.

Whitewashing is when white characters portray characters that are supposed to be depicting a person of color, or a recasting where white actors take the place of a character of color, perhaps from a book adaptation. Popular examples are white people playing Egyptians, Latinx characters, Asians, or even acting in blackface (in older years).

For example, The Last Airbender movie featured a white cast, to the dismay of audiences due to the series’ cultural Asian setting. Another example is the casting of Scarlett Johansson as a Japanese character in the live action version of Ghost in the Shell, an original Japanese media franchise.

Often the consequences of this whitewashing include offensive, stereotypical acting and cultural erasure. Whitewashing has been a common practice in Hollywood for decades, yet still is a significant issue in mainstream media despite racial progress that we may have made. When white actors portray people of color, these roles are taken away from potential actors of color. Racism is perpetuated through these practices.

In recent times, however, we have seen positive changes–like the Black Panther Marvel movie, or Idris Elba being chosen to be James Bond. As people produce media, we must be cognizant of cultural and social contexts when casting characters, in order to make beneficial progress in racial equality.

Watch the video for yourself here!

 

 

Native American Indian Heritage Month

As the month of November winds down, I have only recently heard of Native American Heritage Month. I wondered why I haven’t heard of this before–yet I realized that socially and historically, Native Americans have been left out of the story.

First started as a day of recognition, the movement has evolved into a month designated to celebrate significant contributions Native Americans have made to the growth of the United States. In 1990, President George H.W. Bush approved a joint resolution making November National Native American Heritage Month.

The month presents a time to learn about and celebrate diverse cultures, traditions, and histories of Native people, who were the first Americans. The month also serves to raise awareness about issues Native people have faced and continue to face, such as victimization and prominent rates of mental illness. In the United States, there are 566 federally recognized Native American tribes who speak more than 200 indigenous languages.

Since before the founding of the United States, Native people have faced being executed, forced eviction, and slavery. It’s concerning that many history textbooks glaze over the fact that Native Americans provided the basis of colonialism. It is dangerous to present a revisionist history in which people ignore certain details. Thus, as members of American society, we should work to educate ourselves and work to preserve Native culture, which is fading.

Recently, in my communications class, I learned that statistically, there is barely any representation of Native Americans on television–less than .5% of characters are Native American. Besides African Americans, only a small percentage of television and film characters are people of color. This was alarming to me, as I hadn’t noticed this factor before. In the hegemonic narrative of society, white is dominant and the norm. Was I also complicit in ignoring the history and contributions of Native Americans?

So, this month, I decided to brush up on my history and try to gan a better understanding of Native American cultures. Native people have always been important and should be represented in different media, outside of offensive stereotypes. Here are some things you can do to celebrate Native American Heritage Month:

  1. Read a book about Native American/American Indian History
  2. Watch a documentary
  3. Learn the real story of Thanksgiving
  4. Attend a lecture about Native American history/traditions
  5. Learn about local tribal communities in your area

 

 

The Archetype of the Wayward Muslim Boy

Growing up in a South Asian Muslim community as a girl, I’ve witnessed some of the most cringy and boorish displays of masculinity. The expectations placed on men by their families and cultures are overtly different than the expectations for women. Simply put, it is a fact universally known by young women in the South Asian culture that boys get away with troublesome behavior much easier than a girl can or ever will– moreover, the expectation for a man’s success is much lower than that for a women’s. Is he going to school? Wow, shabash, beta! Is he eating the food his mother prepares him? Wow, shabash, beta! Is he doing the bare minimum any decent human being would do, like saying thank you and greeting visitors? Wow, shabash, beta! Meanwhile, girls much work much harder to prove to our families and communities that we are serious about getting an education and being young professionals in America, and are often told over and over again that we are so lucky to have the opportunities that our male counterparts take for granted. I grew up knowing that I would have to work harder and fight longer to gain the respect that the men in my community already had. This archetype of the hard-working, idealized young woman and the dundering, wayward young man is constantly propagated in Muslim media, and though it is realistic, I honestly can’t help but feel annoyed and constrained by it.

Take The Big Sick for example, the famous rom-com by comedian Pakistani-American comedian Kumail Nanjiani that took its ranks among Muslim-American media in 2017. The story follows Kumail, who has been perpetually lying to his parents about studying for the LSAT and does stand-up comedy professionally, when he meets Emily, falls in love, and persists at lying to both his girlfriend and his family about his dedication to either. Kumail is clearly torn between two worlds– the world of his “American” life (Emily, stand-up, his passions, etc)– and the world of his family and culture (complete with arranged marriage and expectations to be a lawyer). The movie acts as a clear sympathy-builder for Kumail in the sense that we pity his poor and constrained life circumstances– it seems like the one thing standing between him and all his dreams is his family, culture, religion, traditional expectations, etc. And I’m not saying that these aren’t very real problems faced by men in South Asian American communities– they are. But somehow, this movie subtly degrades two really important facts in favor of winning a “white” audience: 1) the value of culture, tradition, and family, and 2) the compounded problems of women in these communities.

There is one particular scene that I’m still so annoyed by: when Kumail is meeting potential brides by his family, one of the girls asks him if he would like to meet up again. He refuses honorably, saying, “I don’t deserve you.” If this is the case, then why don’t men in these communities work harder and do better rather than seize their privilege by the reins and go to town? And why don’t we, as responsible art makers and consumers, attempt to challenge these notions?

The archetype of the wayward Muslim boy is not only present in The Big Sick, but so much of Muslim media that is put out today. It’s the case in Fatima Farheen Mirza’s bestselling novel A Place For Us, where the male protagonist runs away from home and renounces his religion (to be fair, though, I love this book with all my heart– it’s a very mature grasp on the culture and people). It’s the case in Osamah Sami’s Australian-Iranian rom-com Ali’s Wedding, where a young man lies to his whole community about getting accepted into medical school. There’s a blatantly ignorant son in Wajahat Ali’s play The Domestic Crusaders to contrast his socially aware younger sister. The archetype is real and constantly a tool used by Muslim writers because it reflects some truth in Western Muslim cultures.

I know this is a niche worry in a small subset of American culture, but it’s really important nonetheless– we have to have characters that not only represent the wrongs of a particular society, but also characters that show us that we can do something right. I want to see men that care about their background. I want to see men that are socially aware of the faults and beauties of their culture. I want to see Muslim men and women and all people working together to make their communities places of success and joy in corners of the world that are not their own. I don’t want to constantly see the poor, dundering young Muslim man who feels so torn by his two worlds that he is pitifully forced to lie and hide who he is, while his sisters, who usually have much more grotesque expectations placed on them, slink in the shadows of their traditions. There have been great advancements in the literary field in making diverse art– now we need to curate and be mindful of how the archetypes affect American and American-Muslim people alike.

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Strings of India

Hindustani classical music is developed through two interwoven elements: Raga and Tala. Raga is a melodic element and is crafted by improvisation on fixed patterns of ascent and descent. Tala is the rhythmic structure on which the melody is laid.” So to my understanding, Tala is the template to which Raga molds in the artist’s own creative original way.

The Strings of India concert this past Friday in Ann Arbor expressed this style of music using the Sarod,  a 25 string fretless ethnic instrument, and the Tabla, a membranophone percussion instrument that plays by unique configurations of the palms and fingers and requires constant retuning. Two artists dressed in traditional Indian attire sat poised at the front of the orange and yellow accented Hussey Room, one with the Sarod and the other with the Tabla. This genre of music was new to me. To be candid, I felt pretty naive hearing this performance. I had no gauge of what was considered good Indian music; I had never listened to it. Basic questions filed through my head. What are these instruments? Well, I could deduce that a 25 string instrument must be difficult to master. Playing my 6 string is hard in itself, and I have frets to measure where the notes are…so imagine more than 4 times the strings on a guitar minus the indications of the notes given by frets and that roughly equates the complexity of the Sarod. The Tabla looks like a simple goatskin circle that generates different sounds depending on where you strike it…so knowing where to strike it to produce the desired output must be quite a feat. How good are these guys on stage? Turns out, the two gentlemen before me were globally recognized as prestigious musicians, and I had hardly understood the magnitude of their talent until this Friday. Apratim Majumdar, the Sarod player, and Amit Kumar Chatterjee, the Tabla player, have very strong, extensive music backgrounds and are prominent in the music world. They have celebrity status in India (I confirmed this with a coworker from India), and after listening to them gain momentum in their performance, their remarkable talent becomes obvious.

It’s amazing how different the lives of these musicians are from mine. Their practice focuses on intimate time with just themselves and their instrument. Mine is based in the Ugli, study collaborations, and standardized tests. I wonder how they chose to dedicate their lives to mastering an instrument. I wonder if their interest ever tires after hours and hours of rehearsing. I wonder if there such thing as being the best _______ in the world. Best Sarod player. Best Tabla player. Best surgeon. Best chef. Best employee. Best friend. Is being the best based on statistics…or what? In that case, how can you test music in a statistical way? Maybe by the accuracy of notes…no! Hindustani classical music is improvisation. Thus, there is not a standard correct way to play because there is no script for them to follow. Surgery faces complications in the case of emergency so the surgeon must improvise. If every chef followed the same recipe, all food would taste the same. Chefs improvise. Employees don’t deal with the same exact case every day so they improvise. Every friend is different and so are his or her experiences, so friendship adapts to these changing circumstances by improvising. So how can we grade each other based on a standard when life is improvisation?????

I’m thankful to be at a school that fosters my interest to explore the world through art and music in the closeness of the city I call a home, Ann Arbor.

Special thanks to SPICMACAY, the Society for Promotion of Indian Classical Music and Culture Amongst Youth. I and crowds of people are able to see performances at the University of Michigan by Indian artists from across the globe for free because of this group’s efforts. Through events like Strings of India, the organization promotes an understanding of the richness and depth of Indian culture and has expanded immensely since its establishment in 1972. Groups like this help make a big world feel small.

Here’s a video of one of Apratim Majumdar and Amit Kumar Chatterjee’s performances.