“They are so d*** good at math.”
“Oh, he barely speaks. But I know he has the highest grade in the class.”
“They wear those glasses.”
“I don’t think they leave campus… always studying, you know.”
“Too perfect.”
You might already have a picture of the person that these quotes are talking about. These remarks, some made half-jokingly and others half-believingly, are just of a few that I overheard at lunch chats, hallways and conversations. Chinese, or more broadly, the Asian identities, are often reduced to a narrow and hyper-academic stereotype: silent, robotic achievers that score high but speak very little. The so-called “model-minority.”
Coined by sociologist William Petersen in his 1966 New York Times Magazine article, “model minority” was used to describe Japanese Americans that had managed to succeed both academically and economically despite discrimination. Over time, this term applied to the broader Asian community – naturally smart, hard working, quiet and obedient.
This may seem like a compliment at first glance, but no, they are not.
“I tried to be friends with them and practice my English, but I couldn’t fit in with the lunch table.”
“They didn’t include me in their nights out because they assumed I would be studying for that math test.”
“I just stayed with my Chinese friends.”
These are samples of conversations I had with Asian students both on and off Masters campus. They reflect the isolation that is lost under the surface-level success stories.
The model minority myth is not just about how others see us. It shapes how we begin to see ourselves too. When we are constantly told that we are good at a subject and too busy for fun, it’s easy to internalize that model. I start to wonder if being anything else than perfect is a disappointment. I stop raising my hand unless I am sure the answer is right, or it seems intelligent.
Friendships become complicated. People assume you are too serious, or that your social circle is self-sustained or boring. Teachers may expect excellence because of your history of success.
The worst part? There is no space to fail.
Being seen as a “model minority” makes you feel valuable only when you are making progress, only when you are achieving. It also erases the diversity within the Asian community. Not every Asian student comes from a well resourced background and receives top SAT prep. Not every story is one of “success” – top grades, top colleges, smart, etc. Lumping 20 million Asian Americans into one stereotype means ignoring the wide range of identities, socioeconomic backgrounds, languages and experiences that exist in our community.
The one-dimensional narrative should stop defining multidimensional people. Regardless of ethnicity, we all have a range of passions and interests that may not be related to academics. Test scores, expectations, should not be the forefront defining factor of who we are. Maybe next time instead of assuming, we should start asking. And instead of labeling, we should start listening.
