Asian-Americans Surreal,\" Described One Student

Asian-Americans

Surreal," described one student on campus after being shown the new line of Orientalist-kitsch t-shirts, sweatshirts, baseball caps, and other paraphernalia. I see what she means; the new line of clothing is eerily reminiscent of the Abercrombie & Fitch fiasco several years back. When I asked a salesperson in the campus store about the clothes, the individual shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't see anything wrong with it. it's just a joke, I think it's funny."

Funny? Why not design a sister line depicting blackface minstrel characters like Sambo? Or t-shirts with a Muhammad caricature. Reactions to the racial slurs seeping into pop culture and defended as being jokes can be far from funny. The new line of Orientalist kitsch should be removed from our campus stores immediately. Just as Abercrombie and Fitch recalled their line of offensive clothing, so too should our campus stores.

The most infamous of the Abercrombie and Fitch Orientalist line was one image of the "Wong Brothers Laundry Service -- Two Wongs Can Make it White." Deeply disturbing, the shirts received a major backlash. The wave of resentment might have been exactly the type of publicity the retailer was hoping for, because sales of their horrendously boring fashions had been sliding (Nguyen). El Boghdady calls the phenomenon a type of "guerilla marketing...that stirs up a buzz around the brand name" while relying on half-hearted apologies for any offense caused. "Then watch as curious shoppers swarm the stores," (El Boghdady). Surely our campus store's sales have increased since the controversial line hit the shelves.

Critiques of the Orientalist line denounced their representation not only of Asian culture but also their depiction of Asian masculinity. Interestingly, an Asian-American male was a part of the Abercrombie and Fitch team that "came up with the concept," (El Boghdady). The retailer imagined that the line of orientalist kitch clothes would appeal especially to Asian-Americans who liked to poke fun of stereotypes. I wonder if the next new line of clothing might use swastikas to achieve the same goal.

Moreover, images like those of the Wong Brothers amount to a dangerous denial of the hardships and the social stigmas Asian immigrants have endured in the United States. As Nguyen notes, the resurrection of old racist stereotyped caricatures like the Wong Brothers equals a "dismissal of these histories as meaningful in the present." The camps clothing, like the Abercrombie and Fitch line, depicts Asian-American males engaged in stereotypical occupations like laundry and rickshaw driving. Caricatures are grinning widely, of course with buck teeth and pointed farmers' hats.

Like the salesperson at our campus clothing store, some consumers view the outrage over Orientalist kitsch as "overreactive," (Strasburg). Further, some say that protesters should "focus energy on pressuring companies to stop manufacturing clothes in overseas sweatshops" instead of on the caricatures (Strasburg). The reality of sweatshop-produced goods may be certainly more important than the offended sensibilities of college students. However, there is no reason why both sweatshops and racist caricatures should not be obliterated. Non-white cultures have been continually devalued by the dominant European worldview. Now, non-white cultures are being exploited as a source of fiscal growth in the same way that sweatshops are condoned by many American apparel manufacturers. The phenomenon serves as a brilliant commentary on modern culture, exposing a misplaced set of priorities.

The main reason why the campus shop line is offensive is because the racist imagery is being pimped: serving solely as a marketing ploy. According to Nguyen, the capitalist culture will gladly "assimilate even the most...reviled sorts of images or themes." The effect is far, far from creative art, as the commercial caricatures are banal and boring. As students and consumers, we should be aware of the power that marketing has over our consciousness. The t-shirts send the wrong message: that exploitation is fine when it is done in the name of financial gain.

Our campus commercialism is a far cry from the powerful artistic expressions of filmmakers like Greg Pak and playwright David Henry Hwang. Pak produces humorous and sexy digital art that capitalizes on Asian imagery and especially Asian pop culture imagery. The skillful representation of his subject matter is a world apart from racist caricature. Pak's films stand up on their own; they are not silk screen advertisements for a preppy clothing company. Moreover, Pak's work is genuinely interesting, compelling, and entertaining. Some of the pop-porn is overtly feminist in theme, offering empowering imagery created for contemplation, not commercialization.

As Hill & Tu point out, though, not everyone is pleased with the work of researchers like Mimi Nguyen. Nguyen's Web site offers "Asian-American feminist resources" and has become a "hub for Asian-American feminists (Hill & Tu). Moreover, Nguyen's work is deliberately subversive, designed to stimulate thought on race and gender and to ultimately change public opinion. For example, Nguyen grabbed the metatags from porn sites and embedded them onto hers so that would-be buyers of Asian mail-order brides would stumble upon her challenging cultural critique. Offended visitors to her website must understand that unlike the campus store, her counterculture work begs for fruitful analysis and argument.

The line between dark humor and bigotry can be a blurry one. If the images on Abercrombie & Fitch's clothes or on our campus gear were executed on canvas and displayed in a museum, the effect would be different. Why? Artists who reclaim outmoded ideas to make social commentary create real kitsch, not advertising. The campus gear is offensive not just because of its content but how that content is being used. The Abercrombe and Fitch images were "racist caricatures" being pimped in order to sell clothes (Nguyen).