In my personal life, I have experienced both sides of this gaze in a very different context, in a different time, obviously. At least in terms of being a tourist, going to Chinatown as an American-born kid of immigrants from Taiwan was a somewhat unsettling, not totally comfortable experience.
I felt that I was, I didn’t belong there, and it was clear that I didn’t belong there. And some of the looks back at the camera that we see in the film loop and the gallery, I think those looks back happen in person, too. It’s like, oh, this kid looks like me, but this kid isn’t from here, you know, you’re visiting. Outside of Chinatown, you know, in terms of how do these expectations of a gaze, how do they engender a kind of learned performance, you know, a kind of unconscious or semi-conscious internalization that then becomes kind of part of my identity or part of what I project to be, who I am. I’ve especially experienced it in the workplace. I suppose it’s some sort of amalgam of: what feels like it integrates me or assimilates me the best into whatever social or professional situation I’m in, as, let’s say, the only Asian in the writer’s room. Am I carrying ideas that I’ve kind of gleaned or absorbed over my life or from TV and movies themselves, you know? Am I reading what other people seem to be expecting from me and just trying to give it to them before they really even ask, you know? And it’s really operating on something more like a gut level of: here is what I’ve learned over time to synthesize into the version of me that I’m going to be in any given situation.