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As a passionate writer, an avid reader and, most importantly, a queer Vietnamese woman, conversations about diverse representation—both in fiction and real life—are inevitable. Growing up with a shortage of well-written Asian characters on TV, I developed a deep appreciation for media that depicts Asians as complex, multifaceted people, rather than flimsy caricatures. My personal experiences have taught me that diverse representation is even more important in real life. I’ve found so much empowerment through watching other queer women of color thrive in the public eye, from bestselling authors to student leaders right here at Lawrence.
To exist as a person with marginalized identities is often framed as an inherently political act, especially in fields and positions where we have been historically underrepresented. Michelle Yeoh’s Academy Award for Best Actress and the literary successes of R.F. Kuang and Chloe Gong are massive achievements in industries long dominated by white actors and authors, and their work should be celebrated as an indication of progress. However, representation is merely the first step on the long, winding road toward equity.
Over the past few years, the entertainment industry has gradually started inserting diverse characters into popular programs — not only in minor roles, but sometimes as the star of the show. On Netflix, we’ve got Simone Ashley and Charithra Chandran as the Sharma sisters in season 2 of “Bridgerton,” Jessie Mei Li and Amita Suman as Alina and Inej in “Shadow and Bone” and Lola Tung as Belly Conklin in “The Summer I Turned Pretty.” The increase in diversity we’ve seen over the past decade is astonishing, and it gives me immense joy to see shows full of diverse characters with well-developed storylines. Good media representation drives social progress while creating jobs for actors of color, but these shows must not be mistaken for systemic change.
Not all diverse representation needs to be about fighting oppression, and we deserve to see ourselves in Regency romances, fantasy sagas and teen dramas for the pure joy of entertainment. However, the entertainment industry also tends to lean toward the least radical forms of representation to avoid platforming stories that loudly promote policy reform. For example, although many biracial women on TikTok have identified how Olivia Rodrigo incorporates subtle references to her experiences as a biracial Filipina into her music, the media often overlooks these racial undertones. Most journalists only mention her ethnic background when they want to remind us that people of color have no need to complain because one of our most famous pop stars in the United States is an Asian woman.
This issue is even more prevalent in politics, in which American pop culture props up centrist officials as “progressive” due to their marginalized identities. For example, the media has largely commodified Vice President Kamala Harris as a force of progress because she is a woman of color in a high-ranking political office. While her success is a notable personal achievement in a position where all of her predecessors were white men, her leadership has not revolutionized the quality of life for women of color across the country. Electing one marginalized leader does not unravel the systemic oppression we face, especially when most of their policy platform is not centered around advocacy for their communities. Furthermore, framing marginalized identities as inherently progressive distracts us from the truly revolutionary movements that rise from the BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ left. Hyping up public figures like Vice President Harris as agents of change shifts the spotlight away from grassroots activists who are actively challenging issues like the U.S. military-industrial complex, police brutality, exploitation of Indigenous land and violations of immigrants’ rights, making these changemakers look like fringe radicals.
I take great pride in all of my intersectional identities, despite the difficulties they sometimes present. However, representing my communities in my workplaces, leadership positions and career field is just one foundational layer of my advocacy, not the peak of it. Representation can be a gateway for people from marginalized backgrounds, but we need to build ladders of support so the next generation of underrepresented leaders can join us at the top.