Is it just me or is everyone talking about Crazy Rich Asians?
My social media feed is flooded with adulation for its crazy talented beautiful cast. And damn right it should.
Crazy Rich Asians is the first Hollywood studio-produced movie with an all-Asian cast in 25 years, nabbing the top spot at the box office two weekends in a row and raking in $34 million in its first 5 days. Not only did it exceed expectations and blow past its projected earnings (by more than double), it’s the top opening comedy of the year and the highest grossing romantic comedy debut since 2015.
I couldn’t be happier that the film is making history. It sends a strong message that having diverse and authentic stories PAYS. But what I really love about Crazy Rich Asians is the story it tells behind the veneer of glitz and glamour. Of course there’s a lot of the fun over-the-top banter that comes with rom-com territory. But the theme that is uniquely powerful for Asian Americans is the one that speaks to our experience of straddling two cultures, and it’s portrayed with stinging effect in the film.
Astrid is my favorite character. She’s stunning, smart, and elegant — someone I’d probably be envious of in real life — but her struggle is surprisingly relatable. Though she comes from a family of prestige and has her own set of impressive accomplishments, she takes a second seat to her husband and tries hard to not make him feel inadequate. In the process, though, she hides from her own light. You don’t have to study at Oxford or come from a privileged Asian family to relate to this fear of shining too bright. While Rachel, the film’s main character, also battles her own set of insecurities (especially after meeting Nick’s super rich family) her character comes with a bit more of an independent streak.
Witnessing these power dynamics flip and evolve between couples and generations is fascinating. I’m in awe of Astrid’s character because, unlike the matriarch Eleanor who is entrenched in Asian tradition or Rachel who espouses more American confidence, Astrid is somewhere in between, a character that grows and takes ownership of her power while straddling the demands of her Asian family. She’s also kind, one of the only women to befriend Rachel genuinely. Though she’s far from an underdog, I found myself rooting for her throughout the movie.
Crazy Rich Asians has all the stamps of approval: the backing of a major Hollywood studio (Warner Brothers), an attractive and talented cast, and a well-written contemporary narrative based on Asian and Asian American characters. So it’s not hard to throw support behind it. Supporting the movie is kind of like supporting your beautiful popular friend for Class Council president. Funny, mainstream, and totally palatable. What a nice (and somewhat foreign) feeling to walk out of the theaters and think, “Heck yeah! I’m proud to be Asian American”!”
And yet, there’s still a long way to go. On opening night, I was reminded of what a rare privilege this kind of representation means. My friend who is of Egyptian descent came to watch Crazy Rich Asians with me. She is a filmmaker and currently studying animation while writing her own screenplay on the side. Her dream is to create the first animation series featuring an Arab American family. She told me that there has never been an all Arab American cast film produced by a major Hollywood studio. I had no idea. And it goes to show that sometimes we can be stuck in our bubbles. So I hope that just as Crazy Rich Asians has shattered several myths about who we are across the colorful diaspora of Asia, it can also help pave the way for our brothers and sisters in other minority communities. Beyond box office numbers, success should be measured by the breadth of diversity, beyond our own, that we can help bring to the table.
“We know that the representation, or lack thereof, of not just Asians but also other minorities in the media and in popular culture directly affects how those minorities are treated in everyday life. And that’s why it means so much to me that this is a Hollywood studio making and promoting this film… and I hope it opens the doors for more diverse and inclusive storytelling across the board, not just for Asians.” — Gemma Chan
Apart from the success of Crazy Rich Asians, many of the actors themselves have rocked the boat in their own lives. Gemma Chan who plays Astrid (my now not-so-secret girl crush) studied law at Oxford and auditioned for drama school in secret. Her parents were skeptical. “My Dad said to me it doesn’t matter how good you are, how talented you are, but how many faces do you see on the screen that look like ours,” she said in the LA Times.
Other cast members navigated similarly zigzag paths. Kenneth Yang went to college as an economics major because it was the closest major that could please his Asian parents, to only then become a standup comedian after college. Ronny Chieng also studied law in Australia before entering the standup comedy circuit. And Ken Jeong who plays Awkwafina’s Singaporean dad started on the pre-med track when he was at Duke.
“I got Koreaned into being pre-med and I got Americaned into being an actor— Ken Jeong
It’s stories like these that my co-host Lucia and I seek to tell in our first season of Rock the Boat. The pursuit of one’s dreams requires huge leaps of faith; seeing these actors on the big screen is a reminder that their story is ours. That’s the privilege of representation. And that’s why we’re so excited to be part of this movement.
As director Jon Chu said, this isn’t just a movie or a moment; it’s a movement. In order to sustain it, we must have wave, after wave, after wave.
This post was originally published on Medium.
In the short time I’ve been in New York, I’ve lived multiple lives.
At times, it’s been anxious naval-gazing: “I have work and then a dinner thing, and then I’m busy trying to do this whole becoming who I am thing!“, circa Hannah Horvath.
Less often, it’s cosmopolitan ”I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it’ Carrie: eating at places I can’t afford and feeding into the city’s conspicuous consumption.
But far more often, it’s neither, and instead, a rather boring in-between. I’ll also confess that I can’t really liken myself to female TV show characters whose shows I don’t even watch.
When I started this blog, I titled it ‘socialynne’ because at the time:
a) lynneguey.com was already taken (for my “professional” persona),
b) ever clever, I wanted to use a pun with my name,
c) I was going to be that savvy girl in the city.
My noble goal at the time was to represent, in some form, my exterior shell. I wanted to contribute non-wisdom on what it was like to navigate the city as a 20something caught between extreme ambition & a desire to fuck it all/not give a damn. Kind of like the characters I mentioned, just a lot less cute.
20 months, 4 apartments, and 101 (intermittently) soul-bearing blog posts later, I’m reevaluating if ‘being social’ is a relevant topic for me to write about. I’m not exactly out on the town everyday.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m still an awkward 20something for sure, but I’ve pivoted. I used to think about how Jess from “New Girl” or Hannah or Carrie would write my posts. But truthfully, I’m so different from each of those prototypes that I’m quitting that. As I enter a new stage of New York life, this dear blog -my sidekick from the start – will also shift focus.
My former Hannah would grimace to hear that present-day me loves bureaucracy, rules, and hierarchy. I work for a quasi-government agency with 500+ employees, so my life is spectacularly boring as a suited up bureaucrat in a cubicle. Yet I love it. Did I mention that our organization reports to the Mayor of the greatest city in the world?
During my first month at NYCEDC, I’ve been stunned by its sheer impact on the city. The Applied Sciences Initiative is building a strong infrastructure for tech talent here in Silicon Alley. We own the maritime ports. We build numerous new neighborhood developments from unused, vacant property to create a higher-quality life for residents. Guilty as charged.
I’m learning that all the city agencies, programs, and internal departments are a hot mess of acronyms. You wonder if all these departments are necessary, but then you see how much work is required to keep the city’s economic engine chugging . You begin to learn how it works behind the scenes, which leads only to more admiration for this little village where 8 million people call home.
This is not to downplay the issues.
Could city government be leaner? Yes. Could it use drastic innovation? Of course. Could it benefit from a little more open dialogue? Always.
The system is replete with challenges and inefficiencies, which is exactly why strong leadership and new ideas are essential. Personally, I’d love to see an open platform where residents, businesses, and local government can collaborate and solve problems together. I’d love to contribute.
Though my time in New York has been topsy turvy, I’d like to think I’m entering the next stage of what Amy Jo Martin calls “orthogonal bliss”. Orthogonal bliss is defined as the intersection of skills, passion, and purpose. It’s the sweet spot, where all the skills and experiences you’ve acquired align to create something magnificent.
“Color outside the lines by combining, mixing and intersecting things that typically don’t jive. Expect adversity to follow as society fears and fights the interruptive, abnormal mixture. If the mixture is bliss, mass adoption will eventually occur and soon you’ll have diffusion of innovation.”
Every company has stakeholders; ours is the public. So in honor of my newfound orthogonal bliss, instead of writing about ‘social’ in the literal sense, I’m honing this blog’s focus on ‘social good’ here in NYC. It’s no Sex in the City or pixie girl fantasy; it’s simply, me: sociaLynne, some imperfect social in-between.
Throughout our 20s, we represent a range of characters and continue to morph in these chameleon years. If you’ve found your trifecta of skills, passion, and purpose, stick with it. If not, keep looking. We all need to believe in something.
For me, this belief is in the city. All I need is to look out, take a walk, and it’s around me. To make this a better place to live: that’s no better reason to wake up in the morning.
Got really vulnerable, y’all.
Last week, I had the fortune of meeting Christina Vuleta, founder of 40:20 vision, a website that offers advice from 40something women who have been there, to 20something women (like me) who are trying to figure it out. Christina was a panelist at a 40:20 Highwater Women panel where she, along with some other incredibly accomplished women, offered invaluable tidbits on how to navigate this thing called life. I feel extremely lucky to have made a connection with someone so willing to pass on her experiences and help the next generation weather through the rocky 20s.
I wrote a guest post for her site about a topic I’ve been thinking a lot about lately: failure.
Read it, but if you’re busy here’s the Cliff’s Notes version straight from the last two sentences:
Embrace failure as relentlessly as you pursue success. One is not better than the other, as they both simply bring us closer to the goal.
Elusively motivational? That’s how I like it.
Also, I haven’t said this before but to all who actually read these meanderings, thank you. I don’t get to see your faces often but simply knowing that there are faces is encouraging. It’s what keeps me typing. 🙂
The more often you create and share ideas, the better you get at it.
My friend Alex and I have decided to gather a few women every other week to brainstorm business plans, passion projects, and entrepreneurial ventures together. Our 20s are a critical period for growth and at a time when commitment to ideas is especially hard to find, we believe a group like this is necessary.
The goal is to compile ideas and follow through with ones that resonate. Some will be interesting, most will be lousy, one or two may even work. The point is to simply hold ourselves accountable to doing work that really matters. Ultimately, we want to find an idea that sticks and matches our unique strengths with the needs of the world.
What this group is not: a think tank or discussion group. Ideas are a dime in a dozen; money lies in execution. We’ll craft plans to make ideas happen. Some will fail but hey, failing isn’t as bad when there’s a group of other smart, motivated girls experiencing it with you.
If your current routine isn’t cutting it, join us as we experiment with projects that lead to greater fulfillment, if for any reason because doing stuff on your own is hard. We’re looking for a group of 4-6 New York women in their 20s, curious with a desire to learn and do something more. Any industry, talent, or niche is welcome. Leave a comment or email firstname.lastname@example.org for details. We’ll likely be meeting on Sunday afternoon, so be willing to sacrifice Sunday brunch for this. In exchange, a supply of lady refreshments ie. wine & cheese, will be on hand.
If you’re not in New York, sorry- we’re keeping things local for now. But stay tuned!
Many of my friends are in relationships. It didn’t occur to me exactly how many until today, when I was talking to my Mom about my plans to visit a friend and her boyfriend. They’ve found jobs in the same city and now live close enough to see each other regularly.
“Are you jealous of her?” she asked.
“Jealous? That she lives in San Francisco and has a stable job?”, figuring that if I had to go on the defensive about my employment and living choices once again, I might as well beat her to the punch.
“No,” she sighed. “She has a boyfriend she can see all the time. You don’t. Aren’t you…lonely?”
Subtlety is not her niche. I’ve been prodded by my Mom about my weight, intellect, and inability to cook before. But hearing her hint at my loneliness was possibly one of the most piercing truths my single 23-year old self has heard in a long, long time.
I’ve dated and been in quasi-relationships before, but nothing serious. It’s not that I’m against relationships. And it’s not even like I’m one of those girls with absurdly high standards, waiting for “the one”. I have no checkbox criteria.
I think the reason I’m still single is precisely because I don’t think about it a lot, despite how it’s now made increasingly apparent by my mother and number of committed friends.
I’ve been called independent, intimidating, asexual even? So, let me make this clear. I’m none of that. Maybe a little independent, but not to the point where I want to stand solitary for the rest of my life. I also don’t mind being objectified. I love my body; straight men probably do too, and I feel empowered by that. I am single, straight, and willing to mingle. But in the right ways. Ultimately, I value certain things in life including God, my time, career, and dignity. Anyone who unnaturally imposes on any of these I probably won’t be able to comfortably date or be in a relationship with.
Some have said that my somewhat fickle relationship complex may be a sign of something deeper. By never being taken seriously as a child, I’m now trying to overcompensate by acting like super independent woman. Perhaps. But enough psychoanalyzing. All I know is that when the right person comes, everything else in life should flow seamlessly. There are no doubts, little compromise, niente stress. I don’t think that’s too high of a standard. Until then, I will continue enjoying my (in)dependence.
And Mom, no jealously on my part. The third wheel on a tricycle is the best part.
Even on the sunniest of days, it can be difficult to stay upbeat.
As I rushed from one arrangement to the next, my mind waxed incoherence about the purpose of it all. There were simply too many people and not enough space. It was cold. My feet hurt. I was tired.
At a coffee date later, I found myself turning zombie-like. I might as well have. Eyes rolled to the back of my head, synapses mis-navigating, and me thirsting for…sleep.
Truthfully, it was a great day. I supported a friend/mentor in a social media lecture at SUNY and got the chance to meet with an awesome company about a potential partnership. I saw 2 friends over coffee and dinner. I ate, conversed, and laughed (albeit deliriously).
And I’m in New York, where places like this are commonplace. Pinch me. Sometimes I fail to remember.
You fail to see the beauty in things when your mind is struggling to stay awake. I have deprived myself of so much sleep this past week tying up loose ends – attending a late networking event, sending last emails, writing these posts – that I forget about the larger vision behind all these tasks. The key to unlocking big ideas is not to keep your eyes open all the time; it’s to close them regularly so you can achieve grander things when awake. As Arianna Huffington says, sleep your way to the top.
There you have it. Rather than belabor the point, I’m going to heed these words and head to bed. It’s a Friday night and temptation is out there. Thank goodness for a friend who just sent me this text:
Gosh, I am blessed. I’ll sleep to that!