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May 16-22, 1997

Notes From The Underground

APA actors plant the seeds for a new Asian American theater

Accidental Activists: Fifteen actors, mostly nonprofessionals tied to 9-to-5 jobs, have gathered in New York City for the first-ever Asian American "actors' summit." "It's something you might see on Friends," says Rochelle King (left, with Ian Wen, Mike Kang, Tamina Davar, Gary San Angel, and Ngo Thanh Nhan), describing the kind of not-necessarily-Asian-American stories featured at the five-day performance series.

Their stories begin like those of many other Asian Pacific Americans across the country. Born in the U.S.A. to parents steeped in Asian culture and tradition, they are held to standards and expectations which are not necessarily in sync with who they really are. As APA Heritage Month blooms, this group of twenty- and thirtysomethings from both coasts have gathered in the basement of 37 St. Marks Place in New York City's East Village--the home of the Asian American Writers' Workshop--for what amounts to a first-of-its-kind actors' summit.

During the five-day performance series that began May 14, they are remembering and celebrating their roots. At the same time, they are channeling the past to create a new future, one in which Asian Pacific Americans have their own identities distinct from those dictated by the ideals of their parents' generation and mainstream society. They hope to promote a new APA identity that is neither wholly American nor wholly Asian--nor traditionally Asian American.

"We feel strongly about the type of work that we need to be doing in our community," says Gary San Angel, the performance director at the Writers' Workshop and coordinator for this week's event. "We're the next generation and we need to push the work forward. We need to start to create a new breadth of material that speaks about us--about who we really are and on our own terms. We hope this work will begin to do just that."

For Aileen Cho, who joined the acting troupe at the Writers' Workshop just three months ago, exploring her identity and performing is, in a sense, theatrical therapy. Her acting is also a bold statement.

Cho, who works full-time as a writer for an engineering trade publication, is bisexual--and doesn't hesitate to acknowledge and incorporate that part of her identity into her performance. She is a member of Queer Nasian, one of the thematic ensembles that was featured in the series. In her part of the program, Cho explored the labels she wears by default--as an Asian American, a woman, and a bisexual--and how she relates to the rest of the world. She ruminated on the idea of the "middle-of-the-road minority," someone neither black nor white, gay nor straight, who doesn't quite fit into any prepackaged identity.

"I try to avoid proselytizing, but I do present myself to the world as who I am," Cho declares. "People can accept me this way, if they want to. ... We should be taken for our talent, and not for our particular traits."

Even with Cho's tempered consideration of her place in society, there is inherent in all of the performances a touch of activism. In addition to the obvious statements made by Queer Nasian, which included Sabrina Margarita Alcantara's exploration of her militant queer-feminist-of-color persona, others--Alex Luu, in particular--reflect upon their personal experiences as victims of discrimination. Some, including Tamina Davar and Ngo Thanh Nhan, are actively involved with advocacy groups such as the Committee Against Anti-Asian Violence.

Still others use their work to subvert mainstream perceptions of Asian Americans and Asian culture. Mark J. Jue, for one, reminds people that many martial-arts-inspired action heroes populating film and television today owe a great debt to Asian American Bruce Lee and kung-fu culture. His Enter the Undubbed Voices reclaims the image of Asian Americans as powerful forces to be reckoned with, people who can speak without having to be dubbed.

"[That title] speaks for ourselves," says Jue, who works as a legal researcher at a Los Angeles law firm. "We're telling our stories, not someone else speaking for us."

Jue is part of the co-ed ensemble Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Asian Men ... but didn't give enough of a shit to ask, which attempts to reshape and redefine mainstream America's images of Asian American men.

One of the performers in that program is Rochelle King, who, like Cho, used to feel compelled to consider what her culturally sensitive parents might think of potential significant others and even worry about being set up on a parent-initiated date. Her part of the program focuses on her relationship with her husband, who happens to be Chinese American. While King, who is half-Okinawan and half-Japanese, recognizes the dynamics of being an APA couple in today's society, she does not specifically address ethnicity in her performance.

"To make a place in American culture, there are other more blanket issues you can deal with," says King, who works as a structural engineer in Manhattan. "[Being Asian American] adds a layer to my life, but it is not a defining element. I want to be understood in a larger context, in America."

For all of the actors who are exploring publicly and proudly the significance and relevance of their Asian Pacific American heritage, "acting" is merely a means to an end. It is not a metaphor for what they do in their everyday lives to fit into mainstream society. Quite simply, they are who they are.