Although Asian American activists were key figures during the Second Wave, their political work was rendered invisible for a large part of the movement, as evidenced by their lack of presence in mainstream feminist periodicals. While Asian Americans were fairly active, their namelessness is a byproduct of most Asian cultures that encourage submissiveness and gentility in the face of authority. Women were discouraged from expressing their emotions, which were seen as shameful and weak, in Confucian society. Confucian patriarchs preached a “master-servant” relationship to enforce a rigid class structure and unwavering obedience to the family (Lee 66). As such, women were subjugated under their husbands and fathers, who held “absolute power” over every interaction.

In the Korean Yi dynasty, women expelled their emotions through anonymous confessional literature, a silent mode of communicating frustrations that internalized deference and complacency within Asian women (Lee 66). Typically Eastern values of silent femininity and submissiveness serve as a stark contrast to Western values that champion assertiveness and progression. 

Political influences such as racist U.S. policies and the WWII internment deprived and exploited Asian Americans in their pursuit of citizenship and assimilation into Western culture. The low population of Asian American women is a direct and intentional result of immigration policies that stripped Chinese immigrants of their rights. Policy writers during the 1850s aimed to capitalize on the cheap labor of Chinese immigrants and discouraged laborers from finding a spouse in order to keep their labor force alive. Hence, US immigration policies established restrictive, discriminatory, and sexist quotas for Asian women and children. Additionally, Chinese prostitution during the 19th century became a scapegoat for sinophobic sentiments that hindered the growth of the Asian American population: “… at least eight California codes were passed, all aimed at restricting the importation of Chinese women for prostitution and the suppression of Chinese brothels. Although white prostitution was equally, if not more, prevalent, these were additional and specific laws directed only against the Chinese” (Hirata 27). In the Page Act of 1875, the California commissioner of immigration outlined that “lewd” or “debauched” women were strictly prohibited from immigrating into California (Hirata 10). Officers took advantage of the vague language and prohibited the immigration of most Asian women into the country. Furthermore, the characterization of Chinese women as inherently sexual fueled the notion that Asian women were immoral and further subjected them to fetishization. 

Institutional discrimination persisted in the form of anti-miscegenation laws that discouraged laborers from forming families: “the passage of anti-miscegenation laws, rules unconstitutional by the US Supreme Court in 1967 barred marriage between whites and “Mongolians” and laborers of Asian origins, making it impossible for Asians to find mates in this country” (Chow 291). More laws were directly targeted at Chinese women to keep them from marrying American citizens, yet allowed their children to enter the states as laborers.

In the early 1940s, the establishment of the Japanese internment camps fueled Anti-Asian rhetoric that hindered the political progress of Asian American success. The internment camps, which were designed to capitalize off of Japanese-American labor to “turn worthless land into post-war public assets,” cost less to the government than prison labor. After the abolishment of internment camps, Japanese Americans who chose to stay on the West Coast rather than relocating to the Midwest “faced the danger of violence, terrorists, unexplained fires, beatings, threats” (Ikeda-Speigel 94). Legal obstacles and public pressure made it increasingly difficult for Japanese Americans to assimilate back into American society as they were prohibited from obtaining a business license, owning a house, acquiring a job, and burial in their hometown cemeteries” (Ikeda-Spiegel 94).

The slow growth of the Asian American population due to immigration laws and dehumanizing practices served as obstacles to class and social development for the wider community. Early activist groups spearheaded by wealthy and educated Asian American women were “few in number and with little institutional leadership” (Chow 287). As a result, these groups lacked institutional support, were normally conservative, and primarily targeted issues regarding ethnicity over gender.

Sources:

Chow, Esther Ngan-Ling. “The Feminist Movement: Where Are All the Asian American Women?” U.S.-Japan Women’s Journal. University of Hawai’i Press, Sept. 1992, pp. 96–111.

Hirata, Lucie Cheng. “Free, Indentured, Enslaved: Chinese Prostitutes in Nineteenth-Century America.” Signs, vol. 5, no. 1, University of Chicago Press, 1979, pp. 3–29.

Ikeda-Speigel, Motoko. “Concentration Camps in the U.S.A.” Heresies: A Feminist Publication on Arts and Politics. vol. 2, issue 4, Heresies Collective, 01 Sept. 1979, pp. 90-97.

Historical influences and the rise in prejudices against Asian Americans bred inward feelings of guilt, shame, and confusion. For people of color, the desire to become white is a common experience, which Nellie Wong encapsulates in her poem, “When I Was Growing Up”:

when I was growing up, I felt

dirty. I thought that god

made white people clean

and no matter how much I bathed,

I could not change, I could not shed

my skin in the gray water. (Wong 6)

The shame of being Asian American was magnified by the struggle between ethnicity and gender as “women of color are often made to feel that we must make a choice between the two” (Yamada 70). Asian American women were often shamed when choosing to advocate exclusively for women’s rights by men who argued that such a choice would create unrectifiable divides between Asian American men and women.

The exploitation of Asian cultural identities and forced assimilation into a white-dominant society further exacerbates confusion at the individual and community levels. Whites manipulate Asian Americans’ perception of their identity for personal benefit: “In wartime, it was charged that the Japanese were clannish and ‘unassimilable.’ Today, the consensus is that the Japanese American’s power of accommodation is not only phenomenal, but it is “rarely equaled” (Ikeda-Speigel 96). Furthermore, white society perpetuates the model minority myth by adjusting Asian Americans’ proximity to whiteness at their whim, thus promoting harmful racial stereotypes and dehumanizing the Asian American community. In addition, whites appropriate Asian culture and label it as “exotic” and “oriental” while simultaneously claiming that it is “dirty, evil, and wrong” (Pegues 15). As such, Asian Americans are reluctant to embrace their heritage in order to assimilate and reject their culture by adhering to Western standards and norms. As Pegues states, “colonization runs deep,” and Asian Americans are pushed to abandon integral aspects of their cultural identity in pursuit of community.

In a hopeless bid for acceptance into white spaces, Asian Americans are conditioned “not to expect a response in ways that matter” (Yamada 34). Consequently, Asian American women unknowingly adopt a mentality of passive resistance and resort to assimilation in a society that operates exclusively for white males. Asian Americans distance themselves from their cultural heritage by struggling to fit into a rigid mold: “transplantation had created cultural barriers which could not be bridged… ” (Ho 60). As Liang Ho suggests, Asian American women aren’t perceived as “all-American” nor can they fit into their “ancestral ethnic shoes” (60). Whites first view Asian Americans as “exotic Orientals” while Asians view Asian Americans as “rich capitalist Americans,” forcing Asian Americans to compromise between a “double image” that is forced upon them (Ho 60). 

Sources:

Pegues, Juliana. “White Christmas.” Sinister Wisdom. Vol. 54, 01 Jan. 1995, pp. 15-21.

Ho, Liang. “Asian-American Women: Identity and Role in the Women’s Movement.” Heresies: A Feminist Publication on Art and Politics, vol. 4 no. 3, 01 Jul. 1982, pp. 60-61.

Wong, Nellie. “When I Was Growing Up.” Yamada, Mitsuye. “Asian Pacific American Women and Feminism.” This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color, by Moraga Cherríe and Anzaldúa Gloria, 4th ed., SUNY Press., 2015, pp. 5-6.

Yamada, Mitsuye. “Invisibility is an Unnatural Disaster: Reflections of An Asian American Woman.” This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color, by Moraga Cherríe and Anzaldúa Gloria, 4th ed., SUNY Press., 2015, pp. 30–35.

Yamada, Mitsuye. “Asian Pacific American Women and Feminism.” This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color, by Moraga Cherríe and Anzaldúa Gloria, 4th ed., SUNY Press., 2015, pp. 68-72.

Southeast Asian activists such as Filipina poet, Mila Aguilar, represent the different socio-political trajectories of activism within the Asian community: “It is not one story, but many, for Asian women are multicultural and multiethnic” (Aguilar 23). Because “Asian American” is a homogenizing term, most assume that the development of Asian American activism was a linear process. However, as Mila Aguilar’s career demonstrates, ethnic groups traversed along different political trajectories. For example, Filipina feminists were hurriedly encouraged into feminist spheres in the fight against the imperialist Marcos dictatorship during the 70s and 80s: “Even within the anti-Marcos movement in the Philippines, sexism, hierarchy, and bureaucracy flourished…  women in the Philippines have a separate struggle and additional concerns that would not be addressed by overthrowing the Marcos dictatorship.” Aguilar’s poem, “Are You My Mother?” derives its power from her anger-fueled mockery of the upper class and Marcos dictatorship. Aguilar encourages women to “fight on” by embracing their inner rage against their shared oppression (25). The raw emotion displayed in Aguilar’s poems defies the objectifying stereotypes forced upon Asian women and employs the emotion-charged rhetoric that women are often shamed for utilizing. 

Like Filipina revolutionary leaders, Vietnamese women were ushered into feminism during the Vietnam War to spotlight human rights crises. The Women of Vietnam conference, which was held in Montreal in 1975, aimed to raise awareness of the effects of the Vietnam War on Vietnamese women. By doing so, Vietnamese American women acquired a foundation for their activism and stood in unity with their native counterparts. Conferences such as these were essential to the development of Asian American activism not only because it functioned to strengthen solidarities among cross-cultural groups, but because other women highlighted inconsistencies within their activism.

When questioned about the futures of Vietnamese protesters who did not want to assume the traditional role of a nurturer, the Vietnamese women deflected the question and answered, “In Vietnam, we have different ideas about that [concrete ways in which children are raised according to gender roles]… we advocate a new image of liberated women… But we recognize biological differences. Women don’t have to do everything men do; such as lifting as much. That way you exploit women because they are biologically weaker than men” (Janover 4). Furthermore, the same women were hesitant to answer questions regarding lesbian fighters within their movement, underlining fixed prejudices that hindered the progress of the women’s movement within Asian American communities.  

Sources:

Aguilar and Chan. “Teaching about Asian Women’s Activism: The Poetry of Mila Aguilar.” Women’s Studies Quarterly, vol. 14, no. 1 & 2, The Feminist Press at the City University of New York, 1986, pp. 23–25.

Janover, Madeleine. “Women: Vietnam & u.s.” Off Our Backs, vol. 5, no. 3, 1975, pp. 4–6.

As a result of deep-rooted cultural stigmas surrounding homosexuality, queer Asian American communities were slow in gaining traction during the Second Wave Movement: “As a little kid, I was afraid of two things: / Being Yellow / and being Queer” (Wong 53).

Moreover, the lack of representation in lesbian periodicals such as Sinister Wisdom rendered Asian lesbians desperate for representation. In consequence, a diverse collection of Asian lesbians, “Lori Lai, May Lee, Susan Lee, Pam Nishikawa, Gisele Pohan, Marie Shim, Doreena Wong, and Zee Wong,” formed Phoenix Rising, a San Francisco-based newsletter dedicated to the representation of queer Asian and Pacific voices (See). Through periodicals like Phoenix Rising, lesbian Asian Americans worked to dismantle the notion that queerness is a Western concept incompatible with non-Western ideologies and cultures.

During the Second Wave, the underrepresentation of Asian voices was further exacerbated by the prioritization of East Asian matters over those of other Asian communities. Spaces that were dedicated to the lack of queer Asian voices welcomed South Asian lesbians and activists, reflecting editors’ focus on equal representations of all Asian ethnicities. In response to the ostracization of South Asians, “V.K. Aruna (who was one of the South Asian organizers of the “Coming Together, Moving Forward” retreat) wrote of how she and other South Asian lesbian women felt ostracized and overlooked” (Swift).

Aruna’s critical opinion piece was published in the fall 1990 issue of Phoenix Rising, pushing editors to diversify their direction to facilitate harmony within the Asian American lesbian community. Further, Brooklynites Utsa and Kayal established, Anamika, a periodical dedicated to showcasing queer South Asian experiences as a response to the erasure of their voices in larger activist spheres. As such, these small-scale editorials created communities in which suppressed subcultures of Asian Americans freely expressed their frustrations and formed connections: “When I first came out as a lesbian thirteen years ago, I thought I was the only Asian Lesbian in the world. It was very uplifting to look around our circle and see so many women of all ages and backgrounds together in one place” (Tsui).

 

 

Sources:

See, Sophia Yuet. “Finding Community in the Past.” Futuress, Feminist Findings, 20 Nov. 2020, https://futuress.org/magazine/phoenix-rising/. Accessed 07 Dec. 2021. 

Swift, Jaimee. “Exploring Black and Asian American Lesbian Archives: Aché and Phoenix Rising.” Asian American Writers’ Workshop, The Margins, 25 Mar. 2021, https://aaww.org/exploring-black-and-asian-american-lesbian-archives-ache-and-phoenix-rising/. Accessed 06 Dec. 2021.

Wong, Christine. “An Oral History of Lesbianism.” Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies, vol. 4, no. 3, University of Nebraska Press, 1979, pp. 52–53.

Asian American activists like Yuri Kochiyama often befriended eminent African American activists such as Malcolm X, and strengthened intersectional bonds that served both communities. Kochiyama, Richard Aoki, and Mo Nishida were inspired and educated by the activism of Black radical groups. Because the interconnections within Asian American activist groups were hindered by political and “internal contradictions,” their cooperation with Black communities was “more important than any genealogical linkage” (Fujino 57). In their development towards oppositional consciousness, Japanese Americans established close proximity to Black communities in consequence of residential segregation and post-war restrictions. As such, Asian American activists, especially feminists, developed a foundational political consciousness, thus contributing to solidarity between Asian and Black communities.

Conferences hosted by groups of various radical subgroups helped unite minority communities: “From October 12 to 14, 1979, queer Asians from across the U.S. participated in the first National Conference of Third World Lesbians and Gays in Washington, D.C.” (Swift). Howard University, a historically Black college, hosted this conference in which the attendees included the Combahee River Collective, an eminent Black feminist coalition, and the Salsa Soul Sisters, a leading group of lesbian feminists of color.  

Aché, a journal for Black lesbians, further contributed to cross-racial solidarity as they collaborated with women of other ethnicities. The November 1990 issue of “Aché documented I Am Your Sister: Forging Global Connections Across Differences, a four-day conference in honor of [Audre] Lorde…” (Swift). The conference, which was held in Boston in October 1990, garnered roughly 1,200 women from 23 countries. In accordance with Lorde’s foundational principles of intersectionality, Asian American women “took to the podium to express their grievances of being stereotyped, overlooked, and discriminated against in society” (Swift). Women of color are subject to discrimination on various scales, and their experiences manifest differently across communities. During the conference, a group of twelve women shared their experiences as Asian Americans in the U.S. and broke through the ignorance of other women of color as they spoke of orientalism, indoctrination, and fetishization. In turn, Black and Chicana women shared their individual experiences, facilitating an environment of education and empathy.

Nellie Wong, an Asian American poet, expresses the aforementioned principles and unites women of color in her poem, “Plain English.” Wong unifies women of color under the pronoun, “we”, to demonstrate how the isolating and dehumanizing experience of assimilating into white society, is common among “yellow, black and brown skins” (31). 

 

Sources:

Fujino, Diane C. “Race, Place, Space, and Political Development: Japanese-American Radicalism in the ‘Pre-Movement’ 1960s.” Social Justice, vol. 35, no. 2, Social Justice/Global Options, 2008, pp. 57–79.

Wong, Nellie. “Plain English.” Heresies: A Feminist Publication on Art and Politics, vol. 4. no. 3, 01 Jul. 1982, pp. 31.

Swift, Jaimee. “Exploring Black and Asian American Lesbian Archives: Aché and Phoenix Rising.” Asian American Writers’ Workshop, The Margins, 25 Mar. 2021. https://aaww.org/exploring-black-and-asian-american-lesbian-archives-ache-and-phoenix-rising/. Accessed 07 Dec. 2021.