Secret Identities is an ambitious comics anthology which sets out to find or create more Asian-American superheroes; to balance a status quo of “white” super men who are disproportionately depicted, inked, given voice and color (ahem) by Asian-American artists. A popular question posed in the anthology and at the eponymous discussion panel at the 2009 New YorkComic-Con: "Why are there so many Asian-American writers and artists and so few Asian-American characters?"
We know the publisher’s answer (bad marketing), but Secret Identities isn’t ambitious for its attempts to answer easy questions. It is ambitious because of the inherent contradiction it confronts in its stated goals: to challenge racial bias and stereotype without pigeon-holing the single largest and diverse race on Earth; to show the Asian diaspora in all its girth and all its local unity. Its ambition is to be incredulous (“How dare you say that about us?”) without sounding indignant (“How dare you ignore us?”). And most importantly, enough’s enough for these guys.
And the guys may have a point. Gender bias is the elephant in the collection as far as I’m concerned, a greater shadow on character than racism. In fact, gender bias might even be the real answer to why there aren’t more Asian superheroes. American superheroes in the social imagination are big muscley men (barring the exceptional Dr. Xavier, who in my humble opinion should have been cast as an Asian). The creators of superheroes are typically men (and that’s a fact no matter the race. Only 8 of the 60+ Asian-American contributors to Secret Identities are women). It’s like that riddle about the ER doctor who has to treat a boy brought in by a traumatized father. The doctor says “I can't treat him! This is my son!” We’re supposed to say “How’s that possible?” and the punch line of course, is that the doctor is a woman. The riddle’s a little outdated (I last heard it over 10 years ago), but to a lot of people, so is gender bias. If you don’t get the joke, consider yourself a hero.
As in the medical field, there is plenty of female and Asian representation in the world of comics, namely in manga (original English and otherwise). And far be it from me to say what’s more offensive: American portrayals of Asian women as sexy servants or Asian men as diminutive brainiacs, but I would posit that because the stereotypes of Asian-American women are not antithetical to universally proscribed gender roles, the narratives in the penultimate section of the anthology—"Girl Heroes" (emphasis added)—felt freer, the art felt more buoyant. Sure, Asian women like myself utterly loathe the notion that we’re subservient sex kittens, but in an America where such sexuality is hypervalued by (let’s face it), a decidedly phallocentric society, Dragon Lady is nothing compared to Long Duk Dong. In a way, the "Girl Heroes" section benefited from all the freedom of an grindless axe. The stories were all about real women (emphasis reappropriated) told mostly by men, and there was no gender trouble because there was no phallus.
Now, I know what a cliché and hot button (cough) issue phallocentrism in superhero comics is, but let’s face it, wang takes center stage in any identity politicking of superhero comics criticism. Frankly, Asian men are screwed in this equation. I don’t even want to explain how stupid the stereotype is because, well… it is so stupid, but p.s. size truly does not matter. Who wants to date a jerk with a Hummer? Most people would rather drive a high gas-mileage Honda Civic. You know exactly what I’m saying, folks.
Superhero comics in general, are ensconced in a male sexual persona embodying virility and literal largesse (read: compensating for falsely accused deficiencies), so Secret Identities leaves the identity issues of Asian women largely intact. The women in this anthology are smart, no-nonsense people who happen to have super powers and a great sense of humor. These are the characteristics that make titles like Scott Pilgrim (starring several Asian-North-Americans, btw) my all-time favorite.
In sum, gender made the anthology ambitious. I commend Secret Identities in that it breaks from formulaic post-feminist “gender trouble,” by celebrating man in all his various secrets and unabashed hyperbole. By the time I finished “Section One: War and Remembrance,” I was so soaked in Asian masculinity I thought I had become a gay man. Now, work it!
