Last month, I saw countless TikToks informing the public about Chinese New Year superstitions. The videos announced warnings such as “don’t wash your hair — you’re washing away the good luck!” and “don’t throw out your trash — you’re throwing away your treasure!” The comments were filled with people taking these superstitions seriously and some even lamented having seen the video too late.
At first, I found the sentiment of the video and comments endearing, as it’s rare to see my own culture treated in a curious manner rather than one of disgust. However, the creators of the videos were the opposite of my expectations. They were white people who seemingly had little to no relation to Asian culture.
I was conflicted. On one hand, I was excited to see a general audience curious about Asian culture and even willing to participate in the superstitions I barely believe in myself. But on the other hand, I saw a worrying correlation with ornamentalism.
Ornamentalism, a theory developed in Anne Anlin Cheng’s book of the same name, describes the blurring of the boundary between human and object through Asian femininity. She asserts that Asian people are seen through a glass box and peered or looked at for people’s entertainment.
The Chinese New Year superstitions began to feel like a fun toy for people to entertain themselves with. What about all the other aspects of the Chinese New Year, like setting off firecrackers, lion dances or New Year foods? Why are those aspects completely ignored?
It feels like the newfound “appreciation” of Asian culture comes at the expense of so many other things. Asian people are often fetishized in Western media. For instance, the rise of Asian pop culture, like K-pop, has reinforced the stereotype of Asian submissiveness. I’ve even seen discourse on whether a 30-something-year-old K-pop idol is “allowed” to smoke solely because it destroys the feminine, “clean,” Asian man persona.
This fetishization creates a box around Asians and forces stereotypes upon them that are rarely true. For instance, in the Disney show “Bunk’d,” a supporting Asian character, Tiffany, is a stereotypical nerdy Asian who excels in academics and is always trying to please her “tiger mom.” But this isn’t a box that most Asians fit within. Coming from a predominantly Asian neighborhood and schools, I’ve seen so many personalities and nonconforming Asians — even at Binghamton University.
In addition, there’s a lot of picking and choosing with Asian culture to cater to a Western audience. For instance, people are obsessed with Chinese zodiac signs and love to use them to guide their lives. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that — it’s fun and interesting to see! But the same people then rebrand traditional Chinese foods, like tanghulu, as Korean, or bonsai trees as Japanese. It feels like a microaggression when you find one aspect of the culture acceptable, but decide to rebrand another that doesn’t fit your standards.
This doesn’t only apply to Asian culture, either. Many other groups, such as Black and queer cultures, have also faced similar phenomena. In using African American Vernacular English or queer slang, people who may not be part of those communities participate in one part of the culture. But then the same people who partake in these aspects often ignore the struggles of these minority groups because it doesn’t affect them. As long as westerners can — for lack of a better word — leech the part of the culture they want and ignore the rest, they don’t care.
So, how do we create the line between appropriation and appreciation? For one, white people should not be trying to rebrand or capitalize on minority culture to use for their content. It completely erases the original identity and acts as cultural genocide. Respectful communication and willingness to receive feedback from those who understand and live the original culture are crucial for balancing appropriation and appreciation.
I’m not trying to gatekeep my culture, but this balance has to be based on the level of accountability and the context of interaction with the minority culture.
Culture has its own history, struggles and nuance. True appreciation doesn’t look like “discovery.” It means acknowledging that culture is not a buffet where outsiders can pick the palatable plates.
Ultimately, we need people to recognize culture as a lived reality, not an aesthetic ornament for people to fawn over.
Joe Zeng is an undeclared freshman.
Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.