We need more diverse books of all kinds, but just as importantly, we need responsible representation of marginalized communities, ideally from writers who are a part of those communities. We also need more writers who, though perhaps not marginalized themselves, are socially literate, and conscious about not perpetuating harmful stereotypes. 

When I set out to write my Korean-inspired YA fantasy debut, And Break the Pretty Kings, my goal was to pen the kind of book my teenage self needed; I know what it’s like to be a kid who never saw themselves represented in epic stories, and only visualized blue-eyed redheads as heroes. 

But I did more than just write a book with Korean rep—I wrote it in a way that actively fights against the harmful portrayals in media that negatively impacted the way I saw myself as a young Asian girl. The damaging trope I was most determined not to feed into is the fetishization of token Asian characters.

What is a “Token Asian” character?

A “token Asian” is a character of Asian descent inserted into an all or mostly-white cast so creators can check the diversity box and call it a day. Naturally, this lazy attempt at representation means that token Asians are often sidelined, replaceable characters who are poorly written at best, and horribly stereotyped at worst. Examples of token Asian characters include Lane Kim from Gilmore Girls, Raj Koothrappali from The Big Bang Theory, and Rose Tico in Star Wars: The Last Jedi.

What is Asian fetishization?

Asian fetishization in media is when an Asian character is overtly sexualized through racist stereotypes (e.g., a submissive Asian woman who can be exploited for sex), resulting in their racial identity becoming synonymous with sexually desirable traits. 

Fetishization occurs when Asian characters are a) defined by their desirability and ability to attract the (usually) white male gaze, and b) portrayed as more of a sexual preference than a whole person. Think one of Dean Winchester’s oft touted favorite skin magazines in the show Supernatural: Busty Asian Beauties.

In essence, anyone who portrays, or internally thinks of Asians as “exotic beauties” is fetishizing us. It’s one thing to watch anime, or fall in love with BTS, and quite another to expect all Asian characters to pander to your interests.

Here are some examples of fetishized token Asian characters, to give you an idea of what it looks like in media. By way of disclaimer, I want to say that it’s entirely possible for a character to annihilate one stereotype, and be well-liked, while still reinforcing this dehumanizing trope.

• Kyoko in Ex Machina: a silent, submissive robot used for sex who dies so that the white-coded robot can live.
• Kina in Horizon Forbidden West: Burning Shores: a young woman chosen by the villain as his replacement wife because she’s pretty and submissive.
• Cho Chang in Harry Potter: existed solely as a love interest, then disappeared.
• Ling Yi in 1899: the sole Asian characters fought to be or protect a geisha.
• Julie in Friends: introduced as an undeveloped love interest whose entire point was to be romantic competition for a white woman. Then she’s written off the show.

Now, it should go without saying that I am not suggesting Asian characters cannot be romantic leads. Of course they can! Especially if their stories are written by Asian voices, or there is diverse representation of Asians in the story (i.e., sex appeal is not the only facet of their characterization). Successful movies like Crazy Rich Asians, The Big Sick, and To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before prove that Asian romantic leads can be well written and unproblematic. We need more, not less of that kind of representation!

What’s the problem with Asian fetishization?

When Asians are portrayed as objects of desire, rather than well-rounded beings, we are dehumanized, leading to abuses and exploitation in real life. This goes beyond othering our communities. To portray us as objects without agency, meant to be acted upon, is to create a precedent for people to see Asians as inferior, and ignore our autonomy. When that happens, we are diminished in real-world settings, or even infantilized. Either way, our dignity is disregarded by the western gaze, as are the differences that make us unique individuals.

This issue becomes even more sinister when you throw fetishization into the mix. Using Asian-coded things in media to create a sexualized aesthetic perpetuates the idea that Asians exist for viewers’ pleasure. Likewise, consistently forcing Asian characters to be subservient, both sexually and socially, to other characters (think Kim in Miss Saigon) has real world consequences. 

If, for example, you advance another character’s plot at an Asian character’s expense, and offer little to no development for the latter, then you foster a precedent for sweeping ongoing, present-day issues concerning the Asian community under the rug. After all, you’re training yourself and your audience to believe that viewing Asians as holistic, relatable people deserving of respect is unnecessary.

Just think what this kind of dehumanization does to (especially young) Asians who see themselves represented like this time and time again, and deal with the ramifications every day. We cannot ignore the actual dangers of perpetuating the fetishization of Asians. If we do, we foster a world where white men with sex addictions blame and kill Asian women to eliminate their own perverse delusions of temptation. 

What can we do?

We need to do more to normalize the humanization of Asians through media by making them complex, well-rounded characters who exist for themselves, not for white approval. We need more characters like the following who are well-received, but not othered. The following are not defined by their sexuality or subservience to white characters:

• Han in the Fast and the Furious
• Alina in Shadow and Bone
• Eve in Killing Eve
• Kamala Khan in Ms. Marvel

Note that all of these characters have romantic subplots, but not in ways that fetishize them. It can be done, and done well! That being said, we also need to normalize the non-romanticization of Asian characters. The more audiences see Asians as distinctively represented beings, the sooner they’ll see us as unique individuals, rather than stereotypes. We contain multitudes, so let us be portrayed that way.

If you want to write an Asian character into your story, be hyper aware of the tropes that are harming our communities, so you don’t perpetuate them. Do your research and hire sensitivity readers to account for inevitable oversights.

How Asian fetishization has affected my career

A common critique I get for And Break the Pretty Kings is that the romance within it is light. To be clear, there is romance, it just isn’t as steamy as some people like to see in YA books (a different issue altogether), and is meant to slowly develop across a series. Those calling for the immediate, indulgent sensualizing of my teenage Asian protagonist are, I presume, unaware of the harmful trope they’re asking me to play into, one I’m purposefully fighting against.

I want to share a story to demonstrate how prevalent this issue is in my career already. Late last year, I was forced into a conversation with a white woman author who wrote a Korean YA protagonist and tried to connect with me on that. The conversation was not enjoyable for me, but I still took a peek at her book later that day, just out of curiosity.

On page one, the protagonist had only one thing on her mind, and that was to get her first kiss. That alone wasn’t problematic, but by page three, this 16-year-old Korean-American was deploring her flat chest, which she considered lacking next to her more voluptuous white best friend’s. 

What’s the message here for young Asian girls? That their self-worth depends on a) the size of their breasts, as compared to their white counterparts, and b) whether or not they are viewed as sex objects by men, a feat hard to achieve because of their stereotypically childish chests.

What’s more is this author also tried to tell me how to market my own book, insisting that the key was to not neglect marketing to adult men. She said she got lots of positive reviews from that demographic. Naturally, the idea of grown men devouring this author’s appropriative series with a clearly fetishized Asian teen made my stomach churn, and only reinforced the importance of writing books that fight against the damaging tropes that non-Asian creators continuously exploit.

What this means for my own books

Because it was so important to me that And Break the Pretty Kings be a stereotype-busting, empowering story for Asian teens, it doesn’t open with a sensualized Korean princess comparing her body to someone else’s. Instead, it begins with Mirae shooting fireballs in a training field, determined to ascend the throne, as is her birthright. That’s what’s top of mind for her, and nowhere is there any mention of her chest size. 

What kind of representation can Asian teens expect to find in the rest of my book? Nothing about needing to have sexually self-deprecating thoughts, or needing special bras to “feel like a real girl,” that’s for sure.

In no way did I want Mirae’s important calling to be overshadowed by reductive stereotypes that feed into the fetishization of Asians, even if that’s what sells. Strangely enough, I’m not interested in pandering to those who are disappointed when young Asian characters aren’t kissing enough self-insertable love interests to hold their attention. 

I’m much more invested in showing Asian teens that they can be leaders and heroes–and yes, romantic partners too, if they wish. But the worth of their stories shouldn’t hinge on how well white gatekeepers can visualize people who look like them in romantic situations. 

Again, obviously this isn’t to say that Asian characters cannot be love interests. Mirae does have a romantic storyline, but it will progress only as fast as she wants it to. And there are several books that I’m hoping to write in the future that will have much more pronounced romance side plots as well.

When handled thoughtfully, by creators who are aware of the problems and dangers that the Asian community faces, it’s fantastic to see Asian characters as romantic leads who are simultaneously allowed to inhabit other non-stereotypical roles. For example, Everything Everywhere All At Once is an absolute triumph. So is the show Ms. Marvel. What makes them great isn’t just the romance–it’s everything else that these Asian characters are allowed to do and be. That was my focus, too, when writing And Break the Pretty Kings.

So, next time you want to insert a token Asian love interest into your story, or leave a bad review for an Asian author because their book doesn’t sensualize their characters the way you want them to, consider the harm you’re perpetuating against the very communities you profess to hold close to your heart.