The Asian-Stereotype - David Chen, Krish Patel

Authors: David Chen and Krish Patel

Instagrams: @dchen004 and @krish.pat3

Shy. Nerdy. Smart. These are the growing stereotypes around the Asian-American community. In 2010, Qin Zhang wrote an article noting a 300% increase in the usage of the word nerd towards Asians since 1980. In the past decade, that percentage has maintained its growth. A nerd is one seen as overly intellectual, obsessive, introverted, lacking social skills, or someone that spends inordinate amounts of time on unpopular, little known, non-mainstream activities. This is the box the Asian-American community is being cornered into.

However, not all Asians are characterized or defined by this stereotype. Jeremy Lin, former Toronto Raptors’ point guard and currently a member of the Beijing Ducks, became the first Asian-American to win an NBA title in 2019. Malala Yousafzai, a Pakistani activist for girls’ education, openly spoke out and risked even her life to fight—she won the Nobel Peace Prize at the young age of 17, becoming the youngest person to ever do so. Nisha Ayub, a transgender woman from Malaysia who faced hardships such as sexual assault in a male prison, discrimination, violence, and suicide, became Malaysia’s most prominent LGBTQIA+ advocate.

She founded SEED, an organization that helps the homeless, transgender individuals, and people living with HIV/AIDS. SEEDS has also started a home for homeless, transgender elders. 

Do any of these individuals fit “the Asian stereotype”? Sure, these people are intelligent. Jeremy Lin graduated from Harvard with a 3.1 GPA in a highly competitive and exhausting major, economics—if that is anything to go by to show intelligence. Malala is an exceptional speechwriter and a gifted orator, and Nisha is an outstanding activist. However, that should not take away from the other great aspects of the individual, and it is unfair and wrong to characterize every Asian you come across as shy and nerdy. However, the most hurtful part isn’t the descriptor used but instead the assumption.

* * *

Over the years, I’ve learned many things, but the most important thing was the power of words. More specifically that words are as powerful as actions. A simple “Hi!” in the basement of the Academy building, as you finish up homework for the next format is much better than a silent nod as you pass each other on the way to find your standard middle school maroon locker in a chaotic jumble. As my middle school years progressed and much changed, from my school to major world events, two things remained: the label helper and my 250 classmates.

I observed one extraordinary thing over those years. The phrase, “How are you doing?” It had always seemed to be a kind and considerate question for one to ask. But as I sat at my tan school desk or in the comfort of my home, being asked, “How are you doing, Krish?”, I braced myself for an array of questions.

I soon realized how empty, and worthless, the rhetorical question was; it only sought the answer, ‘good.’ It was an easy pathway to get an answer. I realized that behind their jolly smile, they made a cheap assumption, they bound my name with a stereotype. 

They saw me as a tool rather than a being, using my existence for solely their benefit. Without a second thought, people I didn’t know too well, emerged from other classes to ask me questions. Some argue that this should be taken as a compliment and nothing more or less. However, in context it’s not a compliment. It is an assumption creating a wall; a wall that prevents people from seeing the real me.

* * *

Imagine a fourth-grade me walking into a new school. This new school was amazing, and I loved everything about it. My English wasn’t the strongest, however, and I had relied on a hand-held translator until halfway through third grade. Sitting down in the classroom, I stared in awe at the boards filled with artwork of the previous grade. We went to all of our classes, getting to know the 12-person grade that we had started with. 

This school’s classes were modeled after a middle school as opposed to “normal” school at that grade level—more formal classes with individual teachers for each instead of a mixture of random subjects. We ended the day with a group picture, bright smiles and twinkling eyes on excited faces. That night, I received a call. “Hey, David! Can you help me with a math problem?”

Fast forward to 8th grade—I spent the next five years at the school becoming “the math kid.” My name became synonymous with “homework help.” When I’m bored, I’ll scroll through the text messages I’ve had with my friends. These are the actual texts that I have received.

“David. Can u read my whole essay?”

“Are those good theme statements? Like can u help?”

“What’s the answer to 16? I’m confused.”

“David, I sent u my current events. If u have time can u proofread?”

“R we allowed to talk abt examples for the last question about global citizenship?”

Sometimes they can be the most trivial things. Things easily found with a few clicks.

“What do we do after EOL [English Out Loud—English Final] on Tuesday?”

“What time is the earth science test”

“What chapter is the Sahara desert in”

“How do I quote this?”

Even as I write this, I received a message.

“I finished my essay if u wanna read it?”

In a way, I felt that my only worth was that I could help others with homework. I was someone who wasn’t good enough to just hang out with, to be me. 

Now, this might appear as a ‘testament to my intelligence.’ It might be seen as valuing my existence, and ‘praising my intellect.’ “They’re just saying you’re smart. You should take it as a compliment.” I agree some of these adjectives aren’t traditionally “devaluing.” In a different context, I’d take “intellectual” as a compliment, and sometimes, I can be “shy.” 

What is devaluing is the fact that “intellectual” and “shy” became a barrier for others to see who I truly am. It takes away from the other aspects of me when others assume these things. What about the long-distance runner who was a sprinter for both of his middle school track seasons but found passion in long-distance since coming to Exeter? What about the painter who isn’t good at acrylics but loves it anyway, maybe just because it’s relaxing or maybe because he’s watched Bob Ross since he was a kid? What about the singer and dancer inside of me who belts out in song while walking on the path to track practice or does turns in my dining room despite no ballet/dance training? 

Maybe sometimes I do fit the stereotype. Sometimes, I just want to curl up in my room and listen to music and do nothing—“shy.” Sometimes I want to write stories, or practice math— being “smart, intellectual.” But I, or any Asian, should not be categorized strictly by those descriptors, regardless of if they’re “complimentary.” 

Some people are considered “stereotypical Asians.” Sometimes, I am that stereotypical Asian that is “nerdy” and “shy.” With this, we need to be mindful because it’s not fair to subject Asians who are “shy” or “intellectual” to the internal battle of either being themselves or fighting the stereotype. They shouldn’t feel a need to fight the stereotype. If there’s a need, even a thought for “stereotypical Asians” to want to change themselves in order to fight the stereotypes, then something must be wrong. And that is a need, so something is wrong.

* * * 

While our experiences don’t define the experience of all Asians, the overall message is clear. Stereotypes, no matter if the descriptor is considered “positive” or “negative,” are hurtful for two reasons: the assumption takes away from the other aspects of us and causes those of us who are “shy” and “nerdy” to feel a deep internal conflict for fear of adding to and enhancing the stereotype. Regardless of whether that person is “smart,” “shy,” or not, it is wrong and devaluing.