Children of the 90s and younger have most likely seen "Mulan" and its arguably iconic scene in which the dragon Mushu declares, “Dishonor on your family! Dishonor on your cow!” The concept of honor is one that is actually quite prevalent in many Asian cultures. It might not necessarily involve going to war for your country disguised as a man, but the immense pressure to maintain a certain image in both public and private spheres of life is a war within itself.

In my experience, Asian culture is characterized by the prioritization of family above the self. Families are supposed to appear as put-together as possible, which often looks unfeeling and stone-cold to the unknowing observer. If there is any sort of problem, it is usually dealt with privately, then buried six feet under (and then some...) We’re not supposed to talk about our problems, even though there are quite a few of them. The biggest problem is the assumptions that people make about us, yet we don’t do anything about changing them.

In most discussions about race, Asians are disregarded as "people of color" because we’re treated like we may as well be white. In fact, I have been constantly told with a tone of surprise that I sound remarkably white because of how good my English is. Cue the narrowed eyes and raised eyebrow as I reign in my patience to not karate-chop you in the face.

Why do other people get to set the standard for my Asian identity?

That’s something that has never made sense to me and I’ve never really had the courage to address it until now. I’ve spent a lot of my life feeling like people are friends with me only because I’m Asian and I felt that I had to be “Asian enough” for them. I didn’t seem to be “Asian enough” for other Asians, because I had been born in the United States and don't speak fluent Tagalog.

I’ve heard plenty of “jokes” about being Asian. In fact, I made some of them myself so that people would want to pay attention to me even though I knew on a deeper level that this was only encouraging more jokes about it. Once I made a joke about being short because of my Asian heritage and then suddenly there was a “joke” about eating my dog for dinner. I’m not even going to go into the nicknames that I quietly endured because I wasn’t supposed to complain about it.

While growing up, I tried to avoid things that were stereotypical for an Asian to be good at like math or computers because I didn’t want people to associate more Asian things with me. However, this still didn’t work. I was never allowed to be proud of something that I was good at because I was supposed to be modest or I'd hear, “Oh, you’re Asian; that’s why you’re good at that!”

It seems that in every human interaction I have, there is the inevitable question: “So…what ARE you?”

I don’t mind the curiosity, but I do mind the emphasis there is in categorizing what my ethnicity is. A lot of people are thrown off by the fact that I don’t look Chinese or Japanese because those are apparently the only Asian countries on the American radar. I’m quite familiar with listening to the guessing game about my ethnicity and then the ensuing argument about whether or not the Philippines counts while I take several deep breaths and see if my 5,047^th attempt at meditation will help.

“She’s not Asian! She’s Filipino!”

I think this person meant this as a way to defend me, but it didn’t really help. The conversation was still about how Asian I was, which is apparently meant to be measured by what kind of Asian I am. Yet, when I am told how white I sound, I am supposed to take this as a compliment. Evidently, this had led me to conclude that the only part I’m supposed to play is the token Asian friend who is cool because she is Asian, but not too Asian.

I am more than my ethnicity. But my ethnicity is also something that I am very proud of. When you see me, you should see that I am Asian, but that there is more to see beyond my being Asian. Constance Wu, an actress that portrays the matriarchal lead on "Fresh Off The Boat," is fighting for the idea that Asians are not here to provide a spot of color to your story so that it doesn’t look too white. Appreciating my culture does not mean that you get to pick and choose from it to make you look like you care about it.

I am a person. I am not your fetish. I am not your novelty.