666 Kingston, Maxine Hong
in the racial joke Wittman overhears from a table of
whites at a restaurant. Because of their appearance
and skin color, Asian Americans also do not fit the
“standard” image of an American. As Wittman com-
ments to his audience after his play, “ ‘[t]hey think
that Americans are either white or Black. I can’t
wear that civil-rights button with the Black hand
and the white hand shaking each other. . . . I’m the
little yellow man beneath the bridge of their hands
and overlooked’ ” (307–308). Consequently, Asian
Americans remain the perpetual outsiders, never
quite American no matter how many generations
their families have been in the country.
What disgusts them even more is the stereo-
typical portrayal of their race in literature and
film. Wittman admires the poet Jack Kerouac, but
derides a reference Kerouac makes to “twinkling lit-
tle Chinese.” Even worse are the depictions of Asian
Americans in film, especially the bucktoothed, face-
painted Chinese landlord in Breakfast at Tiffany’s
played by the white Mickey Rooney. Other than
“comic” roles, as Wittman points out, “ ‘[o]ur actors
have careers of getting killed and playing dead bod-
ies.’ ” The roles for Asian-American actresses are
not any better, playing off the idea of the submissive
Asian woman. After a recent audition, Wittman’s
actress friend Nanci Lee remarks, “ ‘I know what
my part will be—an oriental peasant. You only
need high heels for the part of the oriental prosti-
tute. . . . And the director says, ‘Can’t you act more
oriental? Act oriental.’ ” Roles for Asian Americans
are limited, minor roles, never leading characters.
Furthermore, these Western actors are criticized for
not acting Eastern enough, something the white
directors believe should come naturally based on
their looks. What further annoys Wittman is that
so many leading fictional characters have no race
associated with them, meaning Asian Americans
could easily play their film adaptations, yet such
roles are never offered to them. Taking what small
steps he can to counteract this, Wittman decides
that, in his imagination, all such characters will be
Chinese.
These white perceptions and stereotypes carry
over to the way Asian Americans view themselves.
This is particularly evident through the women.
Most, as Wittman drily comments, are unavailable,
searching for the perfect, successful white husband.
What he abhors even more is that they hold them-
selves up to a white standard of beauty, particularly
when it comes to their eyes. When a former class-
mate, Yoshi Ogasawara, is told her eyes are beautiful,
she replies “^ ‘[n]o. Oh, no, they’re not. . . . I’m going
to have them operated on for double lids. I have
single lids. These are single lids.’ ” What she is talk-
ing of is the fold in Caucasian eyelids that is miss-
ing in her own. The whites listening to Yoshi have
no idea what she is talking about, but Wittman is
disgusted and walks away. Later he chastises Asian-
American women for these alterations, alterations
that often only leave a scar, rather than the desired
fold. Wittman knows that the “slanty” eyes are one
of the big factors leading to the white view of Asian
Americans as exotic and foreign; however, he also
knows they need to celebrate their features as well as
loudly proclaim their own American identity.
Even though Wittman embraces his features, he
still worries over white views. He purposefully wears
green after being told it reflects harshly on “yellow”
skin. Rather than deflect his color, he instead wants
to call attention to it. Yet he tenses when Taña
begins talking about his body and features, positive
she is going to say something derogatory. Surprised
when she does not, he thinks, “[g]ood. She did not
tell him that she liked ‘yellow’ skin or ‘slanty’ eyes.
She did not say he was ‘mysterious.’ ” Wittman still
keeps his guard up, expecting the worst. Later, he
further betrays the influence Caucasian perceptions
have on him. After having his picture taken with
Taña in a photo booth, he thinks that she “looked
like a blonde movie star; Wittman looked like a
wanted bandito. El Immigrante, his wetback pass-
port picture i.d.” Despite his bravado, Wittman, at
times, cannot help but make comparisons to himself,
finding himself lacking.
In the end, Wittman rants against white racial
assumptions. Understanding how race and identity
are connected, he commands his audience, both
white and Asian American, to set aside and call out
racial stereotypes, to challenge modern ideas of what
is and isn’t American, for Asian Americans to aban-
don white standards of beauty, and for the theater to
challenge Hollywood typecasting.
Lisa Wenger