When I was growing up, the only Asian people I ever saw depicted in films and television were wizened old sages, like Mister Miyagi in The Karate Kid, or they were playing supporting roles even in films about their actual country like Haing S. Ngor in The Killing Fields, or they were desperate childlike figures needing to be rescued as in Good Morning, Vietnam, or they were to be ridiculed like Long Duk Dong in Sixteen Candles, or they were to be played by White people like Linda Hunt in The Year of Living Dangerously. I never saw an Asian American heroine. I was a voracious reader and can’t remember reading books written by Asian authors or featuring Asian heroines.
Everything I learned about being Asian American came from those misleading depictions.