The effects of the myth are multi-layered, far-reaching, and—as is so much in this country—entangled with systemic racism and capitalism. But to understand them, it helps to examine the origins.

The first wave of Asian immigration to the U.S. began in the mid-1800s, and for the next several decades, Chinese and Japanese immigrants were seen by hostile white Americans as dirty, violent, lazy foreigners who were addicted to drugs, posed a threat to white women and children, wanted to steal white jobs, and were intent on destroying the American way of life. Asians faced racist discrimination both in its time-honored systemic forms—laws barring immigration, land ownership, marriage to white partners, and integrated neighborhoods and schools—and, of course, in personal violence that persists to this day.

This racism culminated in its most blatant form during World War II, when President Franklin Delano Roosevelt signed an executive order to uproot Japanese American citizens from their homes, farms, and stores, and imprison them indefinitely in hastily built camps surrounded by barbed wire and armed guards. To avoid comparisons to Nazi Germany, the government censored stories and photos of Japanese American resistance to incarceration (as well as unsavory images such as children behind barbed wire). Instead, it published staged photos of smiling Japanese families making the best of a bad situation in their cramped but clean quarters; Japanese teenagers playing sports against a big, open sky; Japanese farmers proudly showing off vegetables that they had managed to coax from barren land that, it was noted, had been left “undeveloped” by Native Americans who’d lived there for centuries (the subtext, of course, was that Native Americans were lazy and unproductive by comparison).

After the war, desperate to prove that they “deserved” to be free (and to avoid being imprisoned again), Japanese Americans typically did their best to cooperate, assimilate, and behave like loyal, model citizens. Meanwhile, both to establish good relations with Japan–our new ally in Asia–and to reassure themselves and the world that no harm had been done to the Japanese American community, the government and the white press released stories of hardworking Japanese Americans who re-integrated successfully into American society and bore no grudges against their government despite having lost years of their lives and nearly all of their property. And although there was a sustained and vocal effort by some Japanese American groups to demand justice, it was largely ignored.

The Communist Revolution in China spurred the next wave of model minority stories, this time about Chinese Americans. To ensure that Chinese Americans didn’t suffer the same fate as Japanese Americans had in the forties, Chinese American civic leaders pro-actively worked with the press to publish stories depicting their communities as obedient, family-oriented people who had come to the United States to work hard, get a good education, and live the American dream. Luckily for them, the now-defunct U.S. Intelligence Agency joined the team and disseminated these pro-capitalist, pro-democratic, pro-American stereotypes at home and abroad to great effect.

With the rise of the largely Black and Latinx-led Civil Rights movement in the 1960s, white America was made to consider the consequences of centuries of violent systemic racism. One way of coping with this uncomfortable position was to use certain segments of the Asian American community as a shield to deflect responsibility. In a 1966 New York Times article, sociologist William Petersen coined the term “model minority” to describe Japanese Americans, who he claimed were “better [citizens] than any other group in this society, including native-born whites. They have established this remarkable record, moreover, by their own almost totally unaided effort.” He compared them, with some concern, to so-called “problem minorities” who had not managed to pull themselves out of poverty. That same year, an article in the U.S. News and World Report similarly claimed that “at a time when it is being proposed that hundreds of billions be spent to uplift Negros and other minorities, the nation’s 300,000 Chinese Americans are moving ahead on their own–with no help from anyone else.” 

Both articles conveniently overlooked issues of poverty and crime in American Chinatowns. They did not mention the fact that Japanese American veterans had benefited from the GI Bill, which excluded Black Americans. They ignored the fact that the 1965 Immigration Reform Act restricted Asian immigration to family members, college graduates, and white-collar workers, thus contributing to the illusion that Asians were unusually well-educated and family-oriented. And they did not acknowledge the important work that Asian Americans were doing within the broader civil rights movement. The unwritten point of both articles was, of course, that if the law-abiding, hardworking, cooperative “model minority” could succeed where Black and brown “problem minorities” had not, the reason must lie within the communities themselves, and not with the deep, broad, self-serving nature of structural white racism.

As the myth grew in power and popularity, white Americans began to see Asians as “practically white” (though not quite equal) allies rather than the “yellow peril” they had feared and hated only thirty years earlier. Real estate, education, and job opportunities began opening up, and the myth became a self-fulfilling prophecy for many. Of course, the true seats of social and economic power—CEO positions and country club memberships, for example—have remained off limits. And finally, as the past couple of years have shown, it doesn’t take much for people to re-envision Asians as dangerous foreigners.

For many Asians, the price for this false acceptance has been self-hatred and erasure of their ethnic identities as they strive to become as much like their white colleagues as possible; and self-imposed distance from their Black and brown compatriots. There is also a level of willful ignorance: because Asians often do work hard and have overcome enormous obstacles, they believe the myth without interrogating its history. This has the dual effect of encouraging and exacerbating any racist tendencies in Asians toward Black and Latinx people, and building resentment and xenophobia among Black and Latinx communities toward Asians—which ultimately benefits the white power structure by splitting up a potentially powerful alliance. In addition, Asians continue to provide a convenient excuse to ignore both personal and systemic racism–having Asian friends, colleagues, and bosses proves you aren’t racist, and the model minority myth proves that the American system works: if, like the Asians, you have the right values and work ethic, you will naturally rise up. Ironically, the myth has caused several Asian communities and families who desperately lack social, health, and economic services to be overlooked because they are lumped in with a larger group that is seen as not needing assistance.

The Asian model minority myth has always served white nationalism first and foremost. It protects white power structure from accusations of racism, it divides BIPOC by building resentment and encouraging inter-ethnic racism and xenophobia, and it erases the incredible diversity of a group of people who span the political, socio-economic, political, and educational spectrum. And with the recent wave of anti-Asian hatred, it is becoming more and more clear that the myth cannot protect Asians against racism and xenophobia. Many in the Asian American community and beyond—writers, filmmakers, educators, students, and political activists alike—have become increasingly aware of the dangers of the model minority myth, and are joining forces to dismantle it. They have their work cut out for them.