Ed. Note: Wesley Yang's piece, "Paper Tigers", presents fascinating insight
into the lives of Asian-Americans faced with life and career disappointment
after the diplomas, along with ways Asian-Americans are changing the game
to avoid these pitfalls, stemming from their values, upbringing, and
cultural norms. The take-aways are many, and we've selected only a few to
highlight in this venue. It's a recommended read in its entirety to
appreciate the full context and nuances.
......
Sometimes I'll glimpse my reflection in a window and feel astonished by what
I see. Jet-black hair. Slanted eyes. A pancake-flat surface of yellow-and-
green-toned skin. An expression that is nearly reptilian in its impassivity.
I've contrived to think of this face as the equal in beauty to any other.
But what I feel in these moments is its strangeness to me. It's my face. I
can't disclaim it. But what does it have to do with me?
(snip)
Here is what I sometimes suspect my face signifies to other Americans: an
invisible person, barely distinguishable from a mass of faces that resemble
it. A conspicuous person standing apart from the crowd and yet devoid of any
individuality. An icon of so much that the culture pretends to honor but
that it in fact patronizes and exploits. Not just people "who are good at
math" and play the violin, but a mass of stifled, repressed, abused,
conformist quasi-robots who simply do not matter, socially or culturally.
(snip)
Let me summarize my feelings toward Asian values: Fuck filial piety. Fuck
grade-grubbing. Fuck Ivy League mania. Fuck deference to authority. Fuck
humility and hard work. Fuck harmonious relations. Fuck sacrificing for the
future. Fuck earnest, striving middle-class servility.
I understand the reasons Asian parents have raised a generation of children
this way. Doctor, lawyer, accountant, engineer: These are good jobs open to
whoever works hard enough. What could be wrong with that pursuit? Asians
graduate from college at a rate higher than any other ethnic group in
America, including whites. They earn a higher median family income than any
other ethnic group in America, including whites. This is a stage in a
triumphal narrative, and it is a narrative that is much shorter than many
remember. Two thirds of the roughly 14 million Asian-Americans are foreign-
born. There were less than 39,000 people of Korean descent living in America
in 1970, when my elder brother was born. There are around 1 million today.
Asian-American success is typically taken to ratify the American Dream and
to prove that minorities can make it in this country without handouts. Still
, an undercurrent of racial panic always accompanies the consideration of
Asians, and all the more so as China becomes the destination for our
industrial base and the banker controlling our burgeoning debt. But if the
armies of Chinese factory workers who make our fast fashion and iPads
terrify us, and if the collective mass of high- achieving Asian-American
students arouse an anxiety about the laxity of American parenting, what of
the Asian-American who obeyed everything his parents told him? Does this
person really scare anyone?
Earlier this year, the publication of Amy Chua's Battle Hymn of the Tiger
Mother incited a collective airing out of many varieties of race-based
hysteria. But absent from the millions of words written in response to the
book was any serious consideration of whether Asian-Americans were in fact
taking over this country. If it is true that they are collectively
dominating in elite high schools and universities, is it also true that
Asian-Americans are dominating in the real world? My strong suspicion was
that this was not so, and that the reasons would not be hard to find. If we
are a collective juggernaut that inspires such awe and fear, why does it
seem that so many Asians are so readily perceived to be, as I myself have
felt most of my life, the products of a timid culture, easily pushed around
by more assertive people, and thus basically invisible?
(snip)
Entrance to Stuyvesant, one of the most competitive public high schools in
the country, is determined solely by performance on a test: The top 3.7
percent of all New York City students who take the Specialized High Schools
Admissions Test hoping to go to Stuyvesant are accepted. There are no set-
asides for the underprivileged or, conversely, for alumni or other
privileged groups. There is no formula to encourage "diversity" or any
nebulous concept of "well- roundedness" or "character." Here we have
something like pure meritocracy. This is what it looks like: Asian-
Americans, who make up 12.6 percent of New York City, make up 72 percent of
the high school.
This year, 569 Asian-Americans scored high enough to earn a slot at
Stuyvesant, along with 179 whites, 13 Hispanics, and 12 blacks. Such
dramatic overrepresentation, and what it may be read to imply about the
intelligence of different groups of New Yorkers, has a way of making people
uneasy. But intrinsic intelligence, of course, is precisely what Asians don'
t believe in. They believe - and have proved - that the constant practice of
test-taking will improve the scores of whoever commits to it. All
throughout Flushing, as well as in Bayside, one can find "cram schools," or
storefront academies, that drill students in test preparation after school,
on weekends, and during summer break. "Learning math is not about learning
math," an instructor at one called Ivy Prep was quoted in the New York Times
as saying. "It's about weightlifting. You are pumping the iron of math."
Mao puts it more specifically: "You learn quite simply to nail any
standardized test you take."
And so there is an additional concern accompanying the rise of the Tiger
Children, one focused more on the narrowness of the educational experience a
non-Asian child might receive in the company of fanatically preprofessional
Asian students. . . . (snip) . . . In 2005, The Wall Street Journal
reported on "white flight" from a high school in Cupertino, California, that
began soon after the children of Asian software engineers had made the
place so brutally competitive that a B average could place you in the bottom
third of the class.
Colleges have a way of correcting for this imbalance: The Princeton
sociologist Thomas Espenshade has calculated that an Asian applicant must,
in practice, score 140 points higher on the SAT than a comparable white
applicant to have the same chance of admission. This is obviously unfair to
the many qualified Asian individuals who are punished for the success of
others with similar faces. Upper-middle-class white kids, after all, have
their own elite private schools, and their own private tutors, far more
expensive than the cram schools, to help them game the education system. . .
.
(snip)
"At Stuy, it's completely different: If you looked at the pinnacle, the
girls and the guys are not only good-looking and socially affable, they also
get the best grades and star in the school plays and win election to
student government. It all converges at the top. It's like training for high
society. It was jarring for us Chinese kids. You got the sense that you had
to study hard, but it wasn't enough.
(snip)
The researcher was talking about what some refer to as the "Bamboo Ceiling"
- an invisible barrier that maintains a pyramidal racial structure
throughout corporate America, with lots of Asians at junior levels, quite a
few in middle management, and virtually none in the higher reaches of
leadership. . . .
(snip)
Maybe it is simply the case that a traditionally Asian upbringing is the
problem. As Allyn points out, in order to be a leader, you must have
followers. Associates at Pricewaterhouse Coopers are initially judged on how
well they do the work they are assigned. "You have to be a doer," as she
puts it. They are expected to distinguish themselves with their diligence,
at which point they become "super-doers." But being a leader requires
different skill sets. "The traits that got you to where you are won't
necessarily take you to the next level," says the diversity consultant Jane
Hyun, who wrote a book called Breaking the Bamboo Ceiling. To become a
leader requires taking personal initiative and thinking about how an
organization can work differently. It also requires networking, self-
promotion, and self-assertion. It's racist to think that any
given Asian individual is unlikely to be creative or risk-taking. It's
simple cultural observation to say that a group whose education has
historically focused on rote memorization and "pumping the iron of math" is,
on aggregate, unlikely
to yield many people inclined to challenge authority or break with inherited
ways of doing things.
(snip)
In the book, Chua (Ed. Note: Amy Chua's Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother)
portrays her distaste for corporate law, which she practiced before going
into academe. "My entire three years at the firm, I always felt like I was
playacting, ridiculous in my suit," she writes. This malaise extended even
earlier, to her time as a student. "I didn't care about the rights of
criminals the way others did, and I froze whenever a professor called on me.
I also wasn't naturally skeptical and questioning; I just wanted to write
down everything the professor said and memorize it."
At the AASA gathering at Yale, Chua made the connection between her
upbringing and her adult dissatisfaction. "My parents didn't sit around
talking about politics and philosophy at the dinner table," she told the
students. Even after she had escaped from corporate law and made it onto a
law faculty, "I was kind of lost. I just didn't feel the passion."
Eventually, she made a name for herself as the author of popular books about
foreign policy and became an award-winning teacher. But it's plain that she
was no better prepared for legal scholarship than she had been for
corporate law. "It took me a long, long time," she said. "And I went through
lots and lots of rejection." She recalled her extended search for an
academic post, in which she was "just not able to do a good interview, just
not able to present myself well."
In other words, Battle Hymn provides all the material needed to refute the
very cultural polemic for which it was made to stand. Chua's Chinese
education had gotten her through an elite schooling, but it left her
unprepared for the real world. She does not hide any of this. She had set
out, she explained, to write a memoir that was "defiantly self-incriminating
" -- and the result was a messy jumble of conflicting impulses, part
provocation, part self-critique. Western readers rode roughshod over this
paradox and made of Chua a kind of Asian minstrel figure. But more than
anything else, Battle Hymn is a very American project - one no traditional
Chinese person would think to undertake. "Even if you hate the book," Chua
pointed out, "the one thing it is not is meek." (cont.)