I Don’t Want to Be the Token Angry Asian — But I Am Truly Furious

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I have a secret to share. Occasionally, I suspect that my role as a writer stems from my ability to channel an angry Asian American woman persona remarkably well. A nagging thought creeps into my mind, persuading me to believe that I’m simply a token Asian presence, conveniently checking off diversity boxes for various publications. What a delightful bonus I seem to be for not conforming to the stereotypes of submissiveness or timidity.

And while part of me finds joy in provoking thought and stirring the pot, I can’t ignore the threats to my safety and that of my family. Yet, I must admit, there’s a certain satisfaction in upsetting fragile egos on the internet. If they want to make me a resident of their minds, who am I to object? They’ve made their choices, and I’ve made mine.

Here’s the reality: I’m not inherently an angry person, despite what some might think—and I don’t want to be. I don’t wish to be engulfed in anger all the time. While I find anger to be a useful emotion, I’d rather chase joy (and share my love for the K-pop band BTS). But here’s the twist—I am genuinely angry.

There’s so much negativity in the world, particularly from certain individuals. It’s exhausting to witness the relentless efforts to uphold white supremacy, especially from mediocre people. From the unoriginal Kate Rivers, Max Reynolds, and Sarah Lee, who commodify mahjong while belittling Chinese culture, to the white guy on TikTok with the now-deactivated handle “averagecitizen1” suggesting that white men seek Asian women from abroad because Asian American women are “mean”—there’s a lot for an Asian American to be furious about.

I am outraged that white supremacists act with impunity and receive support from the very President of the United States. I am frustrated that the impact of white supremacy seeps into every facet of my life, particularly how white women often contribute to the chaos in various communities, leaving women of color to bear the emotional burden.

We are blamed for “causing drama” when we highlight the underlying white supremacy that fuels the entitlement of these women. We are the ones confronted with heart-pounding messages, often from our own racial community, accusing us of anti-whiteness or of creating spaces that exclude white individuals.

How can anyone, regardless of their background, not feel anger in such circumstances? Furthermore, I am incensed that, while Asian Americans are continually seen as foreign and exotic, many of us inadvertently serve as a wedge to justify anti-Black sentiment. It infuriates me that we will rally against anti-Asian racism (and rightly so) yet remain silent in the face of anti-Black racism. I’m disheartened that 31% of Asian Americans voted for Trump in 2020, an increase from 18% in 2016. It pains me to see so many Asian Americans prefer to align with white adjacency rather than advocate for genuine justice and equality.

I am deeply, deeply angry because, in a world like this, anger feels like the only proper response. Yet, even my anger is weaponized against me. “They only hired you to stir up controversy,” whispers my insecurity. “If you stop being angry, you’ll lose your value.”

While I appreciate that the stereotype surrounding Asian American women is often one of calmness, I resent that even in expressing my dissent, the tendrils of white supremacy distort my identity for their own benefit. This illustrates the consequences of underrepresentation—why women and people of color frequently suffer from imposter syndrome. Among its many harms, racism strips away the fullness of our humanity.

It matters little how many people express their admiration for my work. It matters little when women reach out to thank me for helping them feel less isolated. It doesn’t change that my friends associate me with blunt honesty, attractive Asian men, and my ongoing confusion about the days of the week. (No, there are no other days.)

We are simplified to mere caricatures. But I am more than just one facet of my identity. I will continue to fight and seek joy, as they are not mutually exclusive, and to do anything less would be to concede defeat. I refuse to be confined, to be forced into a predetermined mold.

I embody multitudes. My existence itself is a form of resistance.

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Search Queries:

1. How to express anger as an Asian American?
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4. How to navigate identity as a woman of color?
5. What is the significance of representation in media?

In summary, this piece delves into the complex emotions of anger, identity, and representation experienced by Asian Americans. It highlights the struggles against stereotypes and the fight for genuine equality and justice while underscoring the importance of embracing the full spectrum of one’s identity.