Recent Olympic wins by Asian-American athletes like Nathan Chen and Chloe Kim renewed attention to Asian athletes on the field. In particular, because the U.S. figure skating team is well-represented by Asian-Americans. However, this was not always the case. It was as recent as the 20th century that Asian athletes began appearing in the mainstream.
A History of Asian Xenophobia in Figure Skating
Since the 1900s, Asian-Americans have had steady representation in figure skating. In 1985, Tiffany Chin became the first Asian-American champion of the United States Figure Skating Championships. Her victory was rife with commentary on her body and appearance; she was demeaned as the “China doll.” U.S. figure skater Francis “Frank” Carroll, later coach for various high profile skaters including Evan Lysacek and Michelle Kwan, attributed the skating agility of Asian-American women to their thin and slender frame.
The perpetual foreigner narrative, a mentality that rejects Asians into the American narrative surrounding Asian-Americans has never left the American subconscious and has been a part of a longstanding racist stereotype placed upon the Asian community. While the headline-making victories of these young Asian-American athletes add a diverse spin to the history of Asian-American athletes and amongst everything furthers the positive representation of Asians, the excitement can turn sour for the athletes when one’s race becomes totalizing.
In various interviews, young snowboarder Chloe Kim recalls receiving dozens, if not more, of demeaning and racist messages on her social media platforms like Instagram where she was told that she was stealing the limelight from white women and others that at one point, she tried to stop speaking Korean with her mother. Many of these messages point to her Asian identity as a reason for their receiving of mean remarks. Her Olympic win did not make those comments disappear. In fact, the pandemic has only increased the hostility of the general public towards the athletes in the Asian community. But at the same time that hate exploded towards her, kind messages also filled up her DMs.
The Asian Achiever
One of the longest standing depictions of Asians is that of the stoic overachiever: quiet, “geeky,” speaking in broken English, robotic, but also hard-working and excelling academically. In the realm of sports, these perceptions have loomed large around Asian-American athletes. Reportage and the common perception has worked to reduce and reinforce the Asian identity and its stereotypes for the athletes. Being called a “doll” or small and noted for having a slender frame reduces the talent and effort of the athlete to deliver world-class performances. It also suggests that there is something inherently different about those Asian athletes. The Asian foreigner is viewed with a distance, with a gaze preserved for something exotic.
In addition to undermining the success athletes , the narrative surrounding Asian-American families is also strikingly similar. In 1998, The Los Angeles Times ran an article titled “Kwan’s Dad Also Paid His Dues,” exploring the poignant backstory of Michelle Kwan’s family. A few weeks ago, Today ran an article on an emotional moment between Nathan Chen and his mother. Dozens of articles also used the term “emotional” for Vincent Zhou’s regrettable inability to compete. These stories can definitely be seen as an improvement from the stoic, indifferent Asian achiever.
Yet, this tendency to depict the hard-work of the Asian family is another coin in the stereotypical narrative. While beautiful, these backstories, when told enough times, hardly adds new dimension between one Asian athlete and another. Hard work and dedication most definitely belong to the immigrant narrative, but one cannot help but wonder if that is it. The transnational tale of the Asian-American family is complex, nuanced, full of life. We can be that, and more.
Evolving Perception
As a diverse collective rich with stories from diaspora and transnational journeys, the evolving athletic landscape in the United States is a reflection of a dynamic group of Asian-American folks putting themselves forward and breaking barriers. But while proud, I also hope that these “barriers” will not exist as a differentiator. Just as we do not look up at a white athlete and gasp, “you perform well,” Asian excellence should be normalized. Not robots or “that,” just a wonderful athlete.
Have you ever felt like a part of your identity was used to minimize your achievements? Let us know in the comments!
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