I think too much, especially about things I can't change.

I need to stop reading news articles. I end up writing something about them, when I really don't feel like sitting up. This one was interesting, in that it described in very real terms the plight of a particular group. The strong feeling that drove me to write was sympathy. But, as always, I think the issue is much more complex than such an article can express.

That article (I refuse to link it for a third time) laid out in a pretty clear, historical way the difficulties that Asian-American actors have faced since the dawn of the movie industry. It's really hard to argue with the facts that they present, and certainly those facts point to a systematically institutionalized racism that continues today. Now, before you drop food out of your mouth at the notion of institutionalized racism among one of the most liberal populations in the country—or clench your jaw at discovering yet another form of it—I want to specify what I mean by "racism" here. Specifically, something is racist if it presents a judgment made through a stereotype based on race, rather than on an individual basis. For example, my grandmother absolutely adored my ex. This is fairly remarkable since my grandmother is from the WW2 generation, and my ex is Japanese. Nevertheless, she did. In my experience of people from that generation, they universally hate Japanese people. Now, my grandmother, having overcome the usual sentiments of her generation, thinks the Japanese to be extremely clever, industrious, intelligent, and capable people. While there are generalizations that can be made, obviously, I cannot think of any other conclusion than that my grandmother's sentiment is racist, though in the opposite way from what is usual for her generation.

The racism of hollywood—and in fact, as the article briefly mentions at the end, of the whole nation—is a racism of ignorance. We don't understand Asian people, any more than we understand the bushmen of the kalihari. The fact that, by now, we've most of us been to school with them, or grown up with them next door makes this a very perplexing problem.

"American cinema is a reflection of its society," said Chung. "When I taught a course on 'Asians in American Film' at the University of Michigan this past winter, many of my students of Asian descent — all American-born — complained of how strangers — white Americans — would approach them and ask where they were born and how they say 'Hello' in their native tongue. In other words, many people in the United States still don't have a concept of Asian-Americans and treat them as foreigners."

To add to it, I remember a discussion that I believe I saw on tv once, in which an Asian-American actress or comedian—I can't remember which, but it's been a long time—expressed disgust at the treatment she got from a large number of guys who were evidently only interested in her because she was Asian. This is pervasive, and serves to further separate the population of this country along racial lines.

Racism perpetuates racism. This is pretty straightforward. If one holds a rigidly stereotypical view of any racial group, then the cause of the racism—either hate or ignorance—will perpetuate itself. How are we to bridge this?

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The root of the racism problem, of course, is stereotypes. The stereotypes of Asian actors are too narrow, too rigid, and really do reflect the ignorance of the general population about Being Asian. But those aren't the only problematic stereotypes.

Once, in high school, a hispanic classmate of mine said—when I said that I thought racism essentially extinct—that it was still there, I just hadn't experienced it. I have now, though. Primarily in Japan, as it happens, but here too—once in helping a friend to move, her boyfriend totally snubbed me and my roommate. He essentially refused to talk to us. Now, one might say that he was concerned that one or the other of us might have intended to move in on his girlfriend, or that he was just shy, or any number of things. I can't prove that he was judging us on being white. But he was certainly judging both of us. In another occasion, I was in an Asian history class. I don't recall what I was trying to say—in response to something that the professor had said—but I didn't get to finish it because I was interrupted, insulted, and generally verbally flayed by an Asian girl in the class whose primary thesis was that I couldn't understand her culture properly because I hadn't grown up in it. I dropped the class after that, and because of it, and still when I think about it, it makes me angry. In fact, until that moment, I had even considered a career in Sinology. That's definitely racism, and if you try to excuse it, then I will desperately want to hit you as well, because that bitch had no call to do that.

It goes beyond this kind of personal experience, though. The one and only good movie I can think of starring a real martial artist of European ethnicity is Six-String Samurai, and he had to write it himself. Oh, sure, there have been lots of others, even starring Rutger Hauer and that kind of thing. Steven Seagal, too. But those movies, and the martial arts displayed in them, are really crap. Well... I can't say that every Chuck Norris movie was bad. Or that Chuck Norris is a bad martial artist. But however interesting and accomplished a person he is, "Walker, Texas Ranger" is not exactly a showcase of spectacular fighting stunts. Which is not to say that there aren't good martial artists who are white guys. I can't say I know if they are trying to get into movies or not. Jeffrey Falcon appeared in lots of movies from Hong Kong—almost universally, it seems, as a bad guy—before he ever made a movie in the U.S.

Most cases we see of white people performing martial arts in starring roles are ridiculous. However much one may respect Uma Thurman as an actress, and think her graceful, she looked absurd in Kill Bill, especially in volume 2 when she was shown in silhouette alongside Gordon Liu performing a series of moves. She has such long arms and legs, she could—with real training—develop a spectacular look while performing something like that on screen. But I couldn't help but think that she learned each bit the day it was shot, and practiced it a maximum of five times.

Don't even get me started on David Carradine. After decades apparently following in Bruce Lee's shadow—after reportedly getting the "Kung Fu" tv series role that should have gone to Bruce Lee, and even producing a Taiji video—he still looks ridiculous doing martial arts on screen.

It is probably bad form for me, a white guy, to complain about a minority being racist. In fact I'm not really saying only that: the institutionalized racism that prevents Asian guys from being anything other than martial artists also prevents real martial artists who aren't Asian from playing lead roles. As a society, we do it to ourselves. White people who refuse to make friends with Asian people or Black people, or anyone else cause this problem every bit as much as the Asian and Black people who refuse to hang out with anyone who isn't the same as them. Immature guys who drool over Sung-hi Lee and think that they can impress an Asian-American girl by knowing how to use chopsticks, or having once visited chinatown, cause the problem every bit as much as Asian-American girls who refuse to date white guys. And the two sides reflexively help to entrench the other side.