Parenthood: Week 426 – Butter

I don't know who needs BTS more, my children or me. 

When I was growing up, I didn't very few representations of Asian and Asian-American men in popular culture. I don't remember watching TV and feeling annoyed that most of the actors were white. What I do remember is being excited about the representation that I did see.

When Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story, a biopic about Bruce Lee, came out, I was really excited to see that film. This film did not disappoint. The fighting was great, but more than that, scenes like this one were a powerful lesson in the harsh realities of racism in America.



At that time in my early teens, I didn't know that this scene was a foreshadow for my own life. I did fall end up dating a white girl too, and she has always been sensitive and a true ally around issues around racism.

Soon after, I saw The Crow and fell in love with this film. I found the stylized production, the awesome fight scenes, and the dark fairytale fascinating.



I don't remember consciously thinking, "Brandon Lee is an Asian-American; that's awesome." However, I remember seeing myself in him in a way that I didn't see in any other actor. I was so into this film that I had this up in the room during my teenage years. 

Brandon Lee was critical in my racial identity development. Here was an Asian-American man who was strong, sexy, in great shape, charismatic, handsome, and talented. He was everything I didn't see in the Asian-American stereotypes that were pervasive in popular cultures and my high school. He was what I want to see and still want to see in myself. Brandon Lee showed me that this was a possibility in me.

I gravitated towards boy bands and male vocal groups. I loved The Backstreet Boys and The Temptations. There was so much backlash among high school boys at the resurgence of boy bands in the late 90s. While I loved this example of masculinity, men who dance and sing love songs, most boys in my high school did not, and they used my interest in this music and music in general as a way to emasculate me. I was called homosexual slurs for liking Nsync, but that wouldn't stop me from enjoying their music. Justin Timberlake looked happy, he had attractive girlfriends, and I loved that he was musical like me. This was a far more appealing way for me to be a man than the way my male peers embraced.

If BTS was around when I was in high school, I probably would have gone all-in for them. I would have done everything in his power to emulate everything about BTS. I would have done my hair liked Jimin, practiced the dances, learned these songs, and tried to dress the part. Like Brandon Lee, BTS is everything people don't typically think about Asian men. They are stylish, dance well, are sexy, and are great singers—pretty much opposite the opposite of Mr. Yunioshi, that horrible character that offended Bruce Lee.

I've been listening to BTS every day since "Butter" came out. It's a great song with intricate production, and the remixes are really interesting. I proudly showed the video to my sons, and they got really into "Butter" as well. I hope that BTS has a positive impact on their racial identity development, and I know for sure that BTS's music and videos are bringing my sons' joy, so that's more than enough for me to be grateful.

The part of me that is a teenager is so overjoyed that the world embraces these proud Asian men.  This is an extraordinary moment in our culture. As I told my students, never before in the history of modern popular culture has a group of Asian men been this popular. It's a wonderful thing for all people, and I'm looking forward to the doors that BTS' success will open for Asian-American men like me and Asian-Asian American boys like my sons: doors to where we can go, and doors to different ways that we can express ourselves.