Crazy Rich Hot Asian
In an age that’s now, suddenly, obsessed with the Asian himbo, how can all Asian men look and feel sexy when social media whispers that they’re not**
Words by Xinyu Liao | Trinity Catholic College (2023)
Asian men are having a moment right now in Hollywood. And hopefully this moment lasts a lifetime. Henry Golding, Jung Kook, and Yoshi Sudarso are single handedly (with their biceps) allowing Asian men back into a spotlight that has historically been hogged by white societal standards since Mark Wahlberg seized the pages of magazines all over the world when he became the face of Calvin Klein back in 1993. And although the metaphorical reconquering of this sexy spotlight is back on us men of the East, there are some questions which remain unanswered; and perhaps dangerous if remaining so.
Two years ago, when I was still attending Chinese school, I was at debate with other year 12 students from the same school. While I was there, one of the girls from my class — another chinese student — asked my friend for my mobile number. Incredibly long story short, we started texting about school, family and everything in between. That was until of course she passed a comment about me — that I looked good “for an Asian”. At the time, that made me beam with excitement; beyond the instant gratification of being complimented, I believed the truth behind her kind words.
However, this had me thinking over the next week. What did she mean “for an Asian”. Did she not think Asian people were already beautiful? (We are). Was she somehow including or excluding herself? (She, herself, was Asian). This is a phenomenon that still persists. Internalised racism, on top of the already stringent beauty standards that grip our world, still runs rife within the Asian community. East Asia wants to attain the features of Western society — double eyelids, tall nose bridges, fair skin — while South East Asia, in turn, desire those qualities of East Asia — their tapered-mid part haircuts, fairer skin and Hallyu wave notoriety — all while dismissing Asians of other ethnicities from being Asian at all. Underpinning this vicious cycle and perpetual desires to chase unattainable beauty standards seems to lay dormant a desire to be accepted or to be represented, both of which have yet to be discerned by Asian communities across the world; even for those here in Australia. But even I am not above this very innately human desire to belong.
To give further clarity to this, there was another moment last year —amongst many — where I personally felt attacked by TikTok. Why? It could’ve been my algorithm, but it seemed like one third of all the recommended videos which I was shown at the time were of shredded Korean men training the life out of their biceps and triceps. Of course, overlaying the videos were audio clips of Brent Faiyaz or a cheesy quote from Jordan Peterson about stoicism and strength. Perhaps, I was (literally) influenced, but I couldn’t help but want to join in on the cause — getting biceps for myself to protect masculinity at large. It seemed like a broader cause. But in hindsight, what an incredibly embarrassing phase that was.
Internalised racism is one thing. And it is ripe within the Asian community all over the world. But for men at least, while the assumption is that we are precluded from these societal beauty standards, a quick survey amongst those who are attracted to men and what they consider to be green flags will demonstrate that social constructions of masculinity are starting to change. Recently, for men, there seems to be a refocus on physical beauty, as much as there are expectations to be open to therapy; there is a glorification of men who can cook and go to the gym, as much as there are expectations for the perfect mister to chase harder than she or he (or else, according to Tik Tok, the relationship will be doomed).
What this presents to us is a very special and dynamic moment, now, where we get to redefine what it means to be man, what it means to be asian, and what it means to be sexy. It means choosing the right people — many people — to represent us in film, art and culture to give a panoramic snapshot into what Asian masculinity in the modern day should look, sound and feel like.
