Yellowface: Power Dynamics in Ethical Storytelling
Exploring identity, representation, and cultural appropriation while asking critical questions about who has the right to tell a story.
Hi friend,
A lot happened this past week. I have included some links to news I believe is important to follow at the bottom of this email — please be sure to check it out.
Sometimes satire is the only way to really confront reality. I recently finished reading Yellowface by R.F. Kuang – a book that explores identity, representation, cultural appropriation, and the perils of the publishing industry. At the heart of this book lies a topic I care so deeply about: ethical storytelling.
📌 Heads up! This newsletter consists of some book spoilers, but I promise it is worth it! That said, if you have read Yellowface, share your thoughts in the comments – I want to hear your reflections.
In the book, June Hayward, a young white author, comes across an unfinished manuscript for a novel called The Last Front after the tragic (and completely bizarre) passing of her close friend Athena, a young Asian woman. Jealous of her late friend’s literary fame (and her contrasting lack thereof), June decides to publish the manuscript under the new identity of Juniper Song – Juniper being June’s full first name and Song being her middle name – dropping Hayward to make her name sound more “ethnically ambiguous.” Unlike anything June had written before, The Last Front paints a poignant narrative of the Chinese Labour Corps – 140,000 laborers recruited by the British Army during the tumultuous times of WWI.
While the original manuscript wove in cultural nuances, June makes it more palatable to white readers, touching on the criticism often heard by many writers of color that their writing is not “good English.” In the words of June when talking about her late friend’s writing style: “Her fans praise such tactics as brilliant and authentic—a diaspora writer’s necessary intervention against the whiteness of English. But it’s not good craft. It makes the prose frustrating and inaccessible.”
June’s version portrays the white characters as more sympathetic, minimizes the suffering and discrimination experienced by Chinese laborers, and dilutes elements that might be uncomfortable or off-putting to white readers. It even weaves in a love story between a white woman and a Chinese laborer. The Last Front becomes, as Kuang writes, another case of “inauthentic stories that use troubled pasts as an entertaining set piece for white entertainment.”
Ethical Storytelling - whose story, told by whom?
Yellowface is a commentary on the broader nuances of the literary world and asks pressing questions: What narratives are authors entitled to write? Can one genuinely tell stories beyond their cultural or personal experience without falling into the traps of misrepresentation or appropriation? Can stories truly be told authentically and history recounted when you have no ties to the reality of its experience? And finally, as posed in the book itself: “Who has the right to write about suffering?”
In a particularly notable scene, June is confronted by a Chinese American reader who challenges her on the ethics of profiting off Chinese suffering. Treading the line between defense and denial, June retorts, "I think it's dangerous to start censoring what authors should and shouldn't write...I mean, turn what you're saying around and see how it sounds. Can a Black writer not write a novel with a white protagonist?"
When dissecting this dialogue, we delve deep into the nuanced realm of power dynamics, privilege, and representation in the stories we tell, listen to, and read. At its heart, the debate isn't merely about who gets to tell a story, but about the inherent power dynamics and the authenticity of the narrative. “This industry is built on silencing us, stomping us into the ground, and hurling money at white people to produce racist stereotypes of us.”
It isn't about censorship, as June puts it, but about the ethical considerations of whose voices get amplified and whose get overshadowed.
When a person in a position of relative power tells the story of someone with historically less power, the risk isn't just misrepresentation—it's also about perpetuating stereotypes, homogenizing diverse experiences, and inadvertently or deliberately silencing voices that should be heard firsthand.
Ethical storytelling isn't about restricting authors based on their racial or cultural backgrounds, but about recognizing the responsibilities that come with it, especially when power imbalances exist.
Yellowface is a microcosm of a much larger discourse on ethical storytelling. It prompts readers to introspect on critical issues, such as who holds the pen, why they hold it, and what narratives get told when they do. These conversations are crucial in ensuring that storytelling remains a tool for empathy, understanding, and genuine representation, rather than a means of perpetuating and reinforcing monolithic narratives rooted in power imbalances and biases.
This is where the question of appropriation arises – who is profiting? May it be monetarily or through fame. More importantly, why is this your story to tell?
Power dynamics and the stories we are expected to tell.
The literary world navigates in ways that are fraught with complexities tied to race and representation. The liberty to craft narratives beyond one's personal realm, to be the global storyteller, seems disproportionately awarded to white writers. They are historically perceived as having the anthropological authority to tell the stories of others with supposed authenticity and fairness, granting them the leeway to explore a wide array of subjects, histories, and cultures without stringent expectations or limitations.
Conversely, writers of color are frequently tethered to their own backgrounds, held to a restrictive benchmark that expects them to consistently narrate stories rooted in their specific ethnic, racial, or cultural experiences. In some cases, that includes the stories of communities that “look” similar – e.g. an Indian American Hindu writer writing about the experiences of a Pakistani Muslim American woman. This disparity underscores a problematic undertone: the commodification of minority experiences. Diversity in these scenarios is seen as a marketable niche, something to be capitalized upon for its 'uniqueness.'
We see this with the narratives Athena is expected to write: “Every time she tried to branch out to new projects, they kept insisting that Asian was her brand, and was what her audience expected. They never let her talk about anything other than being an immigrant, other than the fact that half her family died in Cambodia, that her dad killed himself on the twentieth anniversary of Tiananmen. Racial trauma sells, right? They treated her like a museum.”
The chilling remark in the book, "racial trauma sells," captures the crux of the issue. People of color are not afforded the freedom to be versatile storytellers; they become relics, embodiments of specific tales that are in vogue. They are "museums" – static and there to be observed.
In a sea of predominantly white authors, a sole Asian writer's voice can easily be drowned out or, worse, commoditized for its 'exotic' appeal.
June's resistance to having her work reviewed by a “sensitivity reader to check whether the textual representations are consciously, or unconsciously, racist,” and the implicit trust extended to her, speaks volumes about the unchecked privilege that often accompanies whiteness. The solitary Asian individual in the publishing group, who rightly pushes for a sensitivity review, is ignored. This not only illustrates the isolation faced by individuals from underrepresented communities across industries, but also emphasizes the importance of diverse voices in decision-making roles. Without a multitude of perspectives at the table, there remains a heightened risk of perpetuating stereotypes, misrepresentations, and oversimplifications. Being the only person in a meeting advocating for your voice to be heard is exhausting, particularly for underrepresented individuals. This scene so eloquently illustrates the importance of creating spaces with more than just the singular token BIPOC voice at the decision making table.
Storytelling, Confirmation Bias, and Consent
Later on in the book, unsure what her next book should be about (especially now that she is known for her writing about the Chinese experience), June goes on what can only be described as an anthropological scavenger hunt to Chinatown, where she sits in a local restaurant and begins making assumptions about the people she sees and tries to ask the restaurant staff personal questions in a hunt for inspiration.
June's “expedition” further underscores the complications tied to the ethics of anthropological storytelling. By venturing into a space that is culturally unfamiliar and attempting to extract personal stories, June exemplifies a systemic issue that underscores many storytelling mediums: confirmation bias (conveniently interpreting information to validate preconceived narratives).
When individuals approach a new environment, culture, or community with pre-established notions, they aren't just filtering their observations through a biased lens; they are actively seeking out moments, conversations, or situations that align with their expectations. In doing so, they inadvertently gloss over the myriad of lived experiences that otherwise do not fit into their narrow viewpoint.
For June, Chinatown is by no means a living, breathing community with its own complexities and contradictions; it is rather a setting for her next potential bestseller, a backdrop she can mold to validate her internalized views.
June’s decision to interrogate restaurant staff for personal tales without first establishing trust or informed consent is reflective of a problematic trend: treating individuals from different cultures as mere subjects for artistic fodder, rather than respecting them as individuals with agency. The impulse to cherry-pick stories that fit an existing narrative, while ignoring others that might challenge it, is an all-too-common pitfall in storytelling across industries.
Authentic storytelling, especially when it crosses cultural boundaries, requires a certain humility: the ability to listen without judgment, to question one's own biases, and to accept that one's internalized reality might be flawed or incomplete. It is not about collecting stories like souvenirs but about understanding the weight of the narratives being shared.
By trying to fit Chinatown's inhabitants into her pre-existing notions, June risks not only creating a distorted depiction but also perpetuating stereotypes and misconceptions to a wider audience. For some, I am sure this dynamic is eerily reminiscent of the stories of trauma you see in the “do good” stories by brands trying to market their impact of their work.
June's foray into Chinatown embodies the risks of approaching storytelling as a transaction. Authentic narratives aren't constructed from piecemeal observations, but are woven from genuine interactions, respect, and the recognition of the innate dignity of every individual's story.
Confronting Power
The intriguing interplay between readers' emotions and June’s character serves as an illustrative commentary on power dynamics and whiteness in our society. As readers, we are hardwired to resonate with the protagonist's voice, emotions, and justifications. But when the protagonist's actions and motivations challenge our moral compass, it induces a complex internal conflict.
June's character is an embodiment of this intricate relationship. We are drawn into her world, her struggles, and her justifications even though a part of us vehemently opposes her actions and decisions. When she succeeds, despite the initial surge of elation, we find ourselves awaiting her inevitable downfall, seeking justice. This continuous oscillation between empathy and disdain is not just about a character's journey, but mirrors our society's broader confrontations with power and whiteness.
The hesitancy to question or challenge is not just out of reverence, but is also intertwined with the fear of confronting fragility — the fragility that stems from the unacknowledged privilege of power. Questioning those in power often reveals a veneer of vulnerability, which, paradoxically, evokes sympathy. But should this sympathy deter us from demanding accountability?
This duality – of wanting justice but also being swayed by a manipulative narrative – is emblematic of our societal interactions with power and whiteness. The book serves as a microcosm of this struggle, asking readers not just to introspect on the character's actions but also to reflect upon their own biases and conditionings. The feelings of "she is awful...but I feel bad for her" (shoutout to my teammate, Rupa for touching on this complex emotion!) encapsulate the broader dilemmas of challenging entrenched power narratives.
A reflection of reality.
While fiction often offers an escape, it can also be a mirror, reflecting our society's complexities and urging readers to grapple with uncomfortable, but necessary questions about power, privilege, and the narratives we choose to accept or challenge.
The brilliance of Yellowface is in its layers. The author, Kuang, being of Asian descent, crafts this narrative through the lens of a white protagonist, adding layers of irony and self-awareness to the discourse on appropriation, representation, and storytelling.
If you have read Yellowface, share your thoughts in the comments – I want to hear your reflections!
News You Should Care About —
Canadian Prime Minister made a public statement earlier this week that Indian government agents assassinated a Sikh activist and community leader, Hardeep Singh Nijjar, in British Columbia. Nijjar was an advocate for Sikh self determination and a sovereign Sikh state, Khalistan. Khalistan would consist of parts of Punjab state in India, which was divided by the British at the end of their colonial occupation. This news is critical, because it is unheard of for a “democratic” nation to order an extrajudicial killing of a citizen of another democratic nation.
Last week, the State of California filed a landmark lawsuit against five fossil fuel companies, some of the world’s largest corporations: Exxon Mobil, Shell, BP, ConocoPhillips, and Chevron. The lawsuit also includes the American Petroleum Institute, an oil and natural gas industry trade group and lobbyist Big Oil in Washington. The lawsuit claims that these corporations misled and deceived the public by understating the dangers associated with fossil fuels on both the health of individuals and the planet.
If you’d like, you can post your response in the comments section, or feel free to email me your thoughts directly. Oh, and if you found this newsletter insightful, please share it forward. Thanks for reading!
This newsletter was so timely because I also finished reading Yellowface just a few weeks ago! Such a riveting book and everything you said here resonated with me. If you’re interested in more of this concept, The Other Black Girl touches on similar themes!