Racism or ignorance?

Or when non-BIPOC creators use the Vietnam War as a plot point

I knew the show was a bad idea when I saw a white woman wearing a Chinese mandarin gown.

Photo by Alev Takil

But the tickets were expensive, we were broke college students, and it was a rarity that I got to spend Friday nights with my then-boyfriend—let alone to attend an opera. According to a review, it was the first show commissioned by the Seattle Opera in twenty-five years—and happened to incorporate actual Vietnamese words into the libretto.

Amelia alternates between a female protagonist about to give birth to her first child, memories of her U.S. Navy pilot father before he went MIA in Vietnam, past and present versions of Daedalus and Icarus, and the story of Amelia Earhart, our protagonist’s namesake. Only a third of the first act takes place in a North Vietnamese village, where Amelia and her mother search for her father’s last-known whereabouts and discover from a couple that he was tortured for information, leading to the accidental shooting of their daughter. They confess to burning a letter Amelia’s father wrote and asked them to pass on, confessing they did it out of anger.

I should have walked out then, but by now, I was angry that Amelia’s advertising angle encompassed three verses in the entire show.

So after the show, I did what most angry millennials did in 2010—I started a Facebook group. A few days later, I got an email from Amelia’s co-writer and lyricist, who tried his best to understand his shortcomings for using the Vietnam War as a plot point instead of giving the couple a redemptive character arc. And yet, even as I listen to the Miss Saigon soundtrack (which didn’t incorporate actual Vietnamese lyrics until the 2014 revival), I can see the writer’s unintentional ignorance. Amelia may have been avant-garde storytelling, but there are no overtly sexualized lyrics about prostitutes screwing their way to American citizenship, no one-dimensional villains, no white savior complexes.

And while Amelia hasn’t been performed since its 2010 premiere, Miss Saigon continues to run, simply because it provides roles to Asian actors.

Just typing that sentence makes my blood boil.

And yet we have come so far in the last fifteen years. One of my shelves is filled with books written by Vietnamese diaspora authors. The Sympathizer recently got adapted into a TV series for HBO, and following on the heels of its success is The Fortunes of Jaded Women. At the same time, I cannot, as an artist, deny the amount of courage it takes to put your work in the world. I never bothered asking why the writer of Amelia felt compelled to write about American children abandoned by war—I was too busy scolding him for racially stereotyping my country and people.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t enforce boundaries on the art you consume. I suspect I will never watch Miss Saigon on stage—listening to the cast mispronounce “Bui Doi” was more than enough. Yet knowing Miss Saigon is Broadway’s fourteenth longest running show of all time only raises the stakes of ensuring my work appeals to a broad audience. No matter how loudly I yell, theater companies will not stop producing a show that people buy tickets for, no matter how racist or misogynistic it is. There is no concise way to explain what it means to be Vietnamese American, and there are moments where the weight of the responsibility threatens to crush my spirit, just thinking about what my parents suffered through as first-generation immigrants.

Was it okay that in the 1980s, my dad worked in all day in someone’s yard and in lieu of payment, got compensated in old carpet the owner was ripping out so my dad could line the unfinished floors of his Section 8 home, protecting my toddler brother from tripping and hurting himself? Is it right that it is 2024 and my mom is afraid of leaving the garage door open, lest a neighborhood cat wanders in and someone accuses them of stealing it for meat?

So as tempting as it is to direct hate towards those who make baseless judgments about our culture and identity, we cannot persuade someone to adopt a new set beliefs if we do not set our anger aside and examine our own prejudices—only then we can articulate our message in a way that does not inflict harm on others.

That’s why influence takes covertness, kindness, and time; a willingness to work until exhaustion while simultaneously letting go of our attachments to the outcome.

It’s unlikely I’ll ever write anything with the enduring popularity of Miss Saigon. Once I get around to finishing, the chances of my story ever making it through the query trenches are next to nothing, with bookstores already overcrowded with authors who have “made it” and still struggle to sell more than 5,000 copies. But yet—something I can’t name continues to push me forward, even on the days where the words don’t flow readily from my fingertips and I am overwhelmed with the responsibilities of parenthood. It’s taken 37 years to stop questioning why I take on the seemingly impossible, simply accepting that I don’t need to understand it to keep moving forward.

Now over to you 💬

Have you seen Amelia or Miss Saigon performed on stage? What did you like or dislike about the shows? And if not, has there ever been a similar experience where a piece of art challenged your culture or identity?

Leave me a comment and let me know.

Recently on The Write-Life Balance ⏮️

I recommitted to finishing my book, even at the cost of continuing my freelance business. Here’s the commentary on what I deem, “the bag of hot air sold to the modern woman.”

Links for November 🔗

🥦 Sheet pan beef and broccoli is so simple, I can’t believe it actually works.

😍 I am in love with this plaid flannel shacket I bought for my daughter, but can’t find an adult-sized one I like—any ideas?

📖 Seriously considering The Daily Pressfield to keep me on track for finishing a complete draft next year.

🏋🏻‍♀️ I swear this song helps me lift more weight. Also, why has it taken me this long to get into K-pop?

👑 Finally finished the Bridgerton books that have been adapted for TV. Still haven’t made it past the pilot episode but Season 4’s casting of Yerin Ha (and Katie Leung as the evil stepmom!) might persuade me to try again.

Have an amazing November,

Sophia :)

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P.S. No one needs more email during these last hectic moments of 2024, so this will be my last post for the year. Book a call or send a message if you want to chat before January, and take good care.