My Asian-American Heroines

Opening Doors of Possibility

As long-time Villagers know, every March AAV spotlights our Villager-built "APA Women's Wall of Fame," our ongoing Women's History Month appreciation of those Asian-Pacific Islander Americans who have contributed meaningfully to our lives, our culture, and our society.  Every year, we invite Villagers to add their own "bricks" to the wall and post the new and improved Wall the following year.   This year's commemoration led Contributing Editor Frances Kai-Hwa Wang to reflect on the women who have inspired her—in her life and in these pages.

One of the classic high school writing assignments I always dreaded was the "If you could be anyone in history, who would you be?" question. It was a difficult question for me to answer because I always had to insert so many qualifiers in order to actually imagine it. I wanted to be a leader like FDR, but of course I could not be a woman. I wanted to be Eleanor Roosevelt, but then I could not be Chinese. I did not know enough Chinese history or literature to even know that there were good Chinese kick-ass heroines. By the time I stripped my imaginary self of all the gender and racial barriers of history, it was hard to even visualize myself any more.

So I have been on a search for heroines I can actually imagine myself becoming—not just role models to imitate, but to idolize. I never say, "I want to be like her," but "I want to be her." I consume these heroines and take on whatever I can of their style, attitude, confidence, skills. They are not always big stars or famous people, but are often just someone who said something in passing that reverberated as "Truth" and opened a door of possibility for me.

Miss Uyeda

In eighth grade, I had the hardest math teacher in the whole school, Miss Uyeda. She was tiny, barely 5 foot tall, yet she intimidated all of the kids with Algebra. Everyone said that it was "impossible" to get an A in her class, so I was content with the B+ that I got without really trying.

My parents went to a school open house and met all my teachers, but Miss Uyeda was the only teacher they remembered. Every day when I came home from school, they asked how Algebra class was, never English or US Constitution. I thought they were math-obsessed. Now I think perhaps they noticed and remembered her because she was Asian American, in fact the only Asian American woman teacher I ever had. And perhaps she noticed me because I was one of two Asian kids in the eighth grade class. I wonder if she tried to "take care of" me the way my parents later taught me to "take care of" other Asians. Instead of seeing a model minority who already at the top half of the class, she saw a student who could do even better if she tried.

Sometime during the year, I said to myself, "Why is it impossible to get an A? No one is going to tell me it is impossible to get an A." Thus challenged, I started really working. This was the first time I recall setting a definite goal and striving towards it, working hard until I achieved it. I learned that I could accomplish anything I set my mind to.

Connie Chung

All my life, Connie Chung has been held up as an example of what I could become, so much so that it was almost torture. For a long time, she was the only public role model for Asian-American girls. Every relative or friend of the family would say, "You should be like Connie Chung." It drove me crazy, but like an older sister, she showed me one way of being successful and second-generation just by leading the way. [See Growing up in the Shadow of Connie Chung]

My aunts and great aunts

Perhaps because I am so slow to press my own opinions, perhaps because I am afraid to commit to my views out loud, I love to listen in on conversations of women older and wiser than me who tell it like it is. Like the time my Aunt Amy grimaced and said, "Oh, I don’t like Western food." And a light came on in my head: "Of course, that’s it. I don’t like it, either." It had never occurred to me that one could categorically reject the whole thing until I heard it vocalized by one of my aunts. Each of my aunts and great aunts are stronger and more opinionated than the next.

Maxine Hong Kingston’s Woman Warrior

In a passage in Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior - Memoirs of a Girlhood Among Ghosts, the narrator says, "Normal Chinese women’s voices are strong and bossy," yelling to be heard with "everybody talking at once, big arm gestures, spit flying." I read that and said, "Of course."

I had been told that Chinese-American girls were quiet for so long that I had forgotten what I already knew. I remembered how flattered I was once in high school when somebody referred to me as "quiet" and my friend John defended me. "She’s not quiet," John insisted. "She’s loud." I thought, "Wow, he really knows me. What a true friend." Now I also recalled noisy restaurants and crowded Chinatown streets and boisterous family reunions. Even though my relatives always chided me for talking too much, I now realized that they actually talk much more and much louder than me. I no longer had to whisper.

Meena Alexander

In graduate school, I saw Meena Alexander read some of her poems wearing a beautiful golden-brown silk sari. I was surprised to see her wearing a traditional dress in an untraditional situation. I love Chinese clothes, but I only ever wore them at home, indoors. It had never occurred to me that one could wear them out in public. Seeing Alexander, I recalled my embarrassment in high school when I spotted my friend Peter Chow walking across a courtyard wearing a blue silk Chinese coat over his three piece suit -- in front of all those people! It's still a struggle for me. This fall, my children received new, bright red Chinese qi pao, and they wanted to wear them to school the next day for school pictures. My instant reaction was no, one should not wear Chinese clothes to regular school, but I caught myself and allowed it. They were so proud, Mango’s teacher told me that she "strutted" all day. [See, Musings on "Race" I & II by Meena Alexander]

Jessica Hagedorn and Dogeaters

I laughed out loud when I read Jessica Hagedorn’s book, Dogeaters. I had always thought that I was unusually dense and unfunny because I did not "get" Saturday Night Live or David Letterman. I watched those shows because everyone else did, but I rarely understood them. With Hagedorn’s book, I discovered that I did have a sense of humor, it just has different reference points—reference points that I share with other Asian Americans.

Helen Zia

I heard Zia speak at a conference once many years ago and she was such a presence—tall, confident, accomplished, accessible, and full amazing stories and wry observations. A story that has stayed with me all these years was about a chic party she attended in New York where a Caucasian friend remarked, "I did not know you Asians could have so much fun." She was surprised a person could live in New York and not know that Asians could have fun like everybody else. "Duh," she said. The audience laughed. I began to trust my own observations of the subtle nuances. (Her new book, Asian American Dreams, by the way, is brilliant.)

Michelle Yeoh (in James Bond) and Tia Carrere (in Relic Hunter)

I love action adventure stories. However, since the main character is usually male, I have become accustomed to identifying with the main character and transposing my point of view on top of him. The "girls" in the stories are usually disappointing--ditzy, dependent, scared, and screaming love interests (or other accessories) for the manly hero to rescue. Michelle Yeoh’s character in the James Bond movie was fabulous—tough, smart, beautiful, competent, confident, funny. There was no doubt that she was his equal—I loved the scenes of her walking past him up the wall, waving, as he was being caught by bad guys; and I loved the way they bickered about who was going to drive the motorcycle while they were handcuffed together. I was actually disappointed in the end when she deigned to kiss him. My latest heroine is Tia Carrere’s Sydney Fox in Relic Hunter. She is not only tough and smart.  For once, she's also the star. [See The Power of the Relic Hunter]

When one thinks of role models, one usually thinks of people in suits and careers, breaking new ground professionally. Being Asian American, however, can also be considered relatively uncharted territory. Role models and heroes can provide inspiration to us in much more than our jobs— in the daily living of our lives.

Who are some of your Asian-American heroines? Write us and we'll add them to next year's Wall of Fame!