WE GOT THE POWER: ASIAN AMERICANS AND HIP-HOP CULTURE IN THE BAY
AREA
By
Darren Lee Brown

A DISSERTATION
Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
American Studies
2012

ABSTRACT
WE GOT THE POWER: ASIAN AMERICANS AND HIP-HOP CULTURE IN THE BAY
AREA
By
Darren Lee Brown
This dissertation investigates how Asian Americans of the Bay Area engage hip-hop
culture as fans and artists. This is a historiography of Asian Americans participating in Bay Area
hip-hop culture that has been masked or hidden. I have devised a methodology less reliant on
archival materials (i.e., vinyl records and compact discs) that details the different types of data
needed to establish a history of Asian Americans participating in Bay Area hip-hop culture. Data
collected facilitates the understanding of how Asian Americans engage hip-hop culture by
documenting their participation as emcees, DJs, breakdancers, and graffiti artists.

Copyright by
DARREN LEE BROWN
2012

Dedicated to my students.

iv

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank my committee for their assistance in navigating this study. I am
especially thankful for Michael Largey’s editing expertise. I would like to extend my gratitude
to Geraldine Alcid and Kennedy Helm for their hospitality while staying in the Bay Area. I
would like to thank the faculty of San Francisco State University’s Asian American Studies
Program, especially Lorraine Dong and Marlon Hom, for the continued support. Lastly, I would
like to thank those who’ve participated in this study.

v

TABLE OF CONTENTS
LIST OF FIGURES……………………………………………………………………………...vii
INTRODUCTION Digging: Erecting a Framework to Investigate Asian Americans in HipHop Culture…………………………………………………………………………..……1
CHAPTER 1 Asian American Identity: Diasporic Nostalgia and Cultural Production…………13
CHAPTER 2 Caught In-between: Asian Americans, Hip-Hop, and the Model Minority………37
CHAPTER 3 “We Are Family:” the Asian American DJ Scene ………………………………..56
CHAPTER 4 Getting Up: Asian Americans Graffiti Artists Claiming Space…………………...73
CHAPTER 5 Dancing with Swagger: Asian American Dance Crews…………………………..87
CHAPTER 6 Repping the Bay: Asian Americans and Hip-Hop Authenticity…………………100
CONCLUSION Digging on the Backspin: Asian Americans and Bay Area Hip-Hop Culture..133
APPENDICES
Appendix A: Figures……………………………………………………………………166
Appendix B: Consent Forms and Interview Questions…………………………………170
BIBLIOGRAPHY………………………………………………………………………………177

vi

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1 “Dirt Style” photo (1998) …………………………………………….………………167
Figure 2 Graffiti Banner, Oakland, California (2009)…………………………...……..………167
Figure 3 Ann Sherry’s Gold Mountain (2009)……………………………...…………….....…168
Figure 4 Respect the Culture (2011)……………………………………………………………168
Figure 5 Hip Hop Holistic (2001) ………………………………………………………..….…169

vii

Introduction
Digging: Erecting a Framework to Investigate Asian Americans in Hip-Hop Culture
I’m squatting beneath a wooden record rack flipping through boxes of used vinyl
records. With each flip, I quickly scan information from sleeve jackets:
producers, musicians, instruments, labels, year and place of recording.
Occasionally, I pause, place a record in a stack, and resume flipping through the
remainder of the crate. When complete, I check the vinyl for wear and tear and
decide on my purchases. After paying for my finds, I notice a thick layer of dust
and dirt on the tips of my fingers. Crate diggers (vernacular for those looking for
records within hip-hop culture) refer to this as “dusty fingers.” I rip open an
antiseptic wipe and sanitize my fingers before heading home to listen to my finds.

Among my collection are a number of compact discs and vinyl records which speak to the appeal
of Asian American emcees. For example, while Asiatic Knight Stalker’s self-released Love’s
Criminal (2006) might be cited as an example of Asian American emcees being regulated to the
hip-hop underground, other emcees have occasionally garnered acceptance from the mainstream.
Fresh Kid Ice, a Chinese and Jamaican American emcee of The 2 Live Crew, for instance,
appeared on a number of releases on the Luke Skkywalker Records imprint from the mid-1980s
to 1998. Furthermore, the release of Funky New Nation (1990) by the Samoan American hiphop group Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. by

4th

and Broadway suggests occasional support of by

mainstream record companies.
Contemporary efforts by Jin and the Black Eyed Peas provide clues into the marketability
of emcees of Asian Pacific Islander descent. Although the poor performance of Jin’s The Rest is
1

History (2004) suggests that the mainstream is not ready for an emcee of Chinese ancestry,
Apl.de.ap’s participation within the Black Eyed Peas suggests emcees of Asian Pacific Islander
ancestry are more appealing to audiences if they are a part of multiracial and multiethnic crews.
The group’s diverse lineup – black, Filipino, Mexican, Native American and white – confirms
this. Apl.de.ap’s mixed ancestry (Filipino and African American) has surfaced in the “The Apl
song” (2003) and “Bebot” (2005) two songs which highlight the Filipino American experience.
Asian American involvement in hip-hop is overshadowed by perceptions of the culture
being predominately black. The defense of hip-hop as a black cultural endeavor by African
American critics and hip-hop artists alike sets a standard of authenticity based upon race.

1

Asians, more often than not, are considered to be topics of and not agents of hip-hop culture and
2

a number of releases by black emcees confirm this idea. As a result, Asian American
participation is often hidden and requires researching ancestries to provide proof of
involvement.

3

Hip-hop culture is the battleground in which artists strategically employ their ethnic
identities to forge an Asian American identity. In other words, these artists initially mask their
ethnic heritage(s) until stardom is achieved. JabbaWockeez, the winners of America’s Best
Dance Crew (2008), utilized masks to refocus energies on their skills rather than their racial
identity. Likewise, the Invisibl Skratch Picklz (ISP) routinely wore masks on their releases to
avoid questions regarding their ethnic backgrounds. Furthermore, graffiti culture provided a
greater degree of anonymity for Asian American writers such as Dream, Pak1, and Spie.
Despite the strategic masking of ethnicity, the Bay Area is home to a vibrant hip-hop
scene in which Asian Americans have long participated. From legends Crayone and DJ Qbert to
current emcee Kiwi Illafonte, Filipino Americans have a long legacy of taking part in the culture.

2

In addition, Fists of Fury, Bored Stiff (featuring Equipto and Mint Rock), Dan the Automator,
Lyrics Born, and Emcee T, all represent crews and artists of Asian Pacific Islander descent. The
aforementioned artists all have a strong Asian American fan-base and they are often cited as
proof that Asian Americans contribute to hip-hop culture.
Asian American emcees face a tremendous amount of scrutiny as compared to their hiphop contemporaries (i.e., graffiti artists, DJs, and breakdancers). Jin, for example, a Chinese
American rapper famous for winning BET’s 106 and Park freestyle competition, became the
4

subject of much debate based upon his ethnicity. As a result, issues of race and authenticity
within hip-hop came to the forefront and unfortunately misdirect attentions from the real
5

question: why do Asian Americans listen to hip-hop?
Developing a “Digging” Methodology

An appropriate methodology must be devised in order to investigate why Asian Americans are
fans and/or agents of hip-hop culture. Within this section, I will develop a framework for the
investigation of Asian Americans participating in hip-hop culture by formulating a methodology
based upon crate digging. By highlighting two types of “diggers” – Collectors and DJs – I will
reveal how their collection of vinyl records provides the opportunity to formulate a
comprehensive framework of investigation.
Crate diggers participate within the larger vinyl collecting community; however, a
6

distinction must be made between collectors and DJs since they utilize vinyl differently.

Collectors go to great lengths to protect their collections by using the correct needles, expensive
cleaners, and proper handling techniques to ensure the longevity of their prized vinyl. DJs, on
the other hand, use vinyl as a tool within a performance and/or production – not as a valuable

3

commodity. DJs touch and/or manipulate (i.e., scratch) their vinyl on turntables and such
techniques figure into every collector’s imagination as a nightmare. However, for the DJ, a
collector’s prized collection represents an untapped resource that can be utilized in a production
and/or performance.
Taylor (2003) notes that material evidence such as vinyl records exists as a form of
“archival memory” that some people believe is resistant to change.

7

DJs, however, challenge

this assumption by utilizing vinyl to reference the past in order to create new sounds by
accessing the rich catalog of recordings that stretch across a number of musical genres. In turn,
these new sounds reflect the social and political reality of the artists. DJs also use vinyl in
performances that Taylor describes as a “repertoire.” Thus, DJs embody the intersection of
archive and repertoire in that they utilize the archive in performance by scratching, mixing,
records, CDs or mp3s.
Taylor’s concept of the archive and repertoire evokes the possibility of constructing a
framework for the investigation of Asian Americans in hip-hop culture through the consideration
of both material evidence and performance. Such material evidence—vinyl records, concert
fliers, music videos, compact discs, mp3s, websites, and photographs—can further the
understanding of how people of Asian Pacific Islander descent engage hip-hop culture.

To

provide a comprehensive historiography of Asian American participation, however, we must also
consider the actual performances. Participant observation is vital since it provides in-roads to
gatekeepers of the scene that can lead to interviews. This framework which I call “digging”
details a number of steps one must follow in order to successfully erect a historiography of Asian
American involvement within hip-hop culture. The following sections describe what types of

4

data “digging” can yield and have been separated into two sections: material evidence and
participant observation.

Material Evidence

The collection of material evidence is crucial to the understanding of how peoples of Asian
Pacific Islander ancestry engage Bay Area hip-hop culture as artists. By analyzing records,
fliers, videos, and lyrics, I will reveal how such items demonstrate their participation within the
Bay Area scene. Such evidence reveals the appeal of Asian American hip-hop artists, crosscultural collaborations, and the use of social networking sites to promote their works.
An analysis of releases by Asian American hip-hop artists of the Bay Area reveals their
collaborations with African Americans. “Da Music” (2005) by Lunar Heights, for example,
features Filipino American emcee Jern Eye standing between African American emcees Khai
Sharrieff and Spear of the Nation posing in front of iconic downtown Oakland buildings. The
album notes reveal that Filipino American DJ Vinroc of the Triple Threat and 5th Platoon DJ
crews produced the album. This information inspires the further online investigation of the
backgrounds of the artists of Filipino ancestry and reveals that both musicians relocated from
other metropolitan areas (Los Angeles and New York) to the Bay Area.
The collaborations between African and Asian Americans in hip-hop continue a long
tradition of the communities working together to release recordings. For example, Glide
Memorial Church’s release You The People: Celebrating with Glide’s Cecil Williams (1971)
features a number of gospel songs, spoken word pieces, and sermons from Reverend Cecil
Williams. A quick analysis of the front and reverse covers reveal an undeniable Bay Area

5

aesthetic of social activism stemming from the Civil Rights and Anti-Vietnam War movements
indicated by the use of Third World liberation rhetoric and its reference to the Black Panther
Party and the United Farm Workers Organization. Upon further investigation a photo reveals a
woman of Asian ancestry smiling alongside a black man playing a guitar. The woman’s identity
may be considered trivial to some; however, her identity is of importance since she was one of
the forerunners of Asian American poetry – Janice Mirikitani. The liner notes reveal that Janice
is “active in third world movements, and is an accomplished poet.” She reads the piece entitled
“A Revolutionary Message, “Quotations from Chairman Jesus” without accompaniment. Her
vocal delivery evokes the power of Nikki Giovanni and provides opportunity for investigating
the intersections between Third World liberation movements and in particular the relationships
between African and Asian American activists.
The collection of event fliers provides clues into the types of audiences Asian Americans
hip-hop artists of the Bay Area attract. For example, a flier for Stop the Killings! (2007)
advertises performances by Geologic of Blue Scholars and Kiwi of Native Guns to raise
awareness about human rights abuses occurring in the Philippines. In addition, the flier for
Kilusan Underground Sound Session (K.U.S.S.) (2011) hosted by the League of Filipino
Students (LFS) at San Francisco State University represents a continuance of culturally-activated
Filipino Americans utilizing hip-hop to educate their audiences. Both fliers suggest a hip-hop
audience grounded in Third World Liberation politics; however, another flier also indicates
Asian American emcees participating within the Hyphy Movement. “Hyphy” is Bay Area slang
for hyperactive and was coined by Bay Area rapper Keak Da Sneak in the early 1990s. Hyphy
became the genre identified with the Bay Area hip-hop scene as did G-funk in Los Angeles and
Crunk in the South. Nump, a Filipino American hyphy emcee signed to E-40’s Sick Wid It

6

record label, is featured as an artist attending an autograph signing at the Shoe Palace in San
Jose, California (2010). The emcee’s appearance suggests an appeal beyond college-educated
Asian American audiences; however the inclusion of other emcees and singers of Asian Pacific
8

Islander descent suggests a supportive pan-Asian network.

Digging in the digital age reveals cultural productions by Asian American hip-hop artists
found on social networking websites (i.e., Facebook, MySpace, and Youtube) and an
investigation of their videos reveals a variety of genres in which they participate. The following
examples speak to the heterogeneous composition of the Bay Area hip-hop scene. For example,
EyeASage’s MRSHMLO (2009) reveals a staunch independent stance that shuns the mainstream
hip-hop’s preoccupation with misogyny and violence. On the other hand, Mistah Roger’s Down
For Our City (2011) features Southeast Asian American emcees clothed in Oakland Raiders and
Oakland Athletics sportswear rapping about East Oakland pride punctuated by scenes youth
posing with handguns and automatic rifles. I Go, You Stop (2007) by the Gookstaz features
emcees of Southeast Asian descent contributing to the Bay Area Hyphy Movement.
The analysis of lyrics by Asian American hip-hop artists provides insight into how they
engage hip-hop culture as fans and later emcees. For example, “1995” (2006) by Native Guns, a
Filipino American hip-hop duo of Kiwi and Bambu based in Los Angeles and the Bay Area,
features lyrics which documents each emcees immersion in hip-hop culture as youth growing up
in Los Angeles. The song features Bambu rapping about stealing his first “NWA (Niggaz With
Attitude) tape at ten” years of age and listening to Rodney O and Joe Cooley, inspiring him to
become an emcee. Likewise, Kiwi raps about reading Urb magazine (an independent hip-hop
magazine based in California), rappers KRS One and Chuck D, and becoming inspired to
become an emcee.

7

In sum, the collection of material evidence is pivotal to the understanding of how peoples
of Asian Pacific Islander ancestry participate within Bay Area hip-hop culture and such evidence
warrants further analysis. The collection of fliers provides information on how Asian
Americans emcees market their events but also the composition of their audiences. An analysis
of music videos speaks to the variety of genres Asian American emcees participate in.
Contemporary evidence found online infers that social networking sites play a pivotal role in the
understanding of Asian American hip-hop artists. Such evidence in combination with hip-hop
releases provides an undeniable record of participation.

Participant Observation

Participant observation is pivotal to capture the Asian American hip-hop scene and my personal
experiences have led to many of the scene’s gatekeepers. In this section, I will highlight how my
experiences as an organizer, volunteer, DJ, graffiti artist and community health worker speak to
the influence hip-hop culture has on Asian Americans in the Bay Area.
For the last twenty years, I have organized many events that cater to Asian American
audiences in the Bay Area. For example, in the early 1990s, I was a member of the Asian Pacific
Islander Student Association at Laney College in Oakland, California. As an organizer, I hired
FM20 – a predominately Filipino American DJ crew – to perform at an Asian Pacific Islander
Heritage Month event held on campus. FM20 later became the world famous Invisibl Skratch
Piklz (ISP). At the same event, I hired Korean American rap duo Fists of Fury. This group is
significant in that they received accolades from black emcee and producer Paris during the Los

8

Angeles Uprisings stemming from the beating of Rodney King despite the wrath Koreatown
faced from the disenfranchised.
My experiences as a volunteer for Asian American community based organizations
revealed an emerging interest in hip-hop music from their audiences. While volunteering at a
number of fundraisers for Asian American Theater Company in San Francisco during the early
1990s, I witnessed two acts – Anonymous and Incite – which represented two differing camps of
hip-hop: commercial and underground. Incite, a predominately Japanese American crew from
Southern California, rapped with a crowd pleasing energy influenced by mainstream hip-hop
artists. On the other hand, Anonymous, a Korean American emcee, rapped about political issues
which failed to resonate with audience members. For example, during one fundraiser he shouted
“Fuck George Washington!” His anger was met with silence and soon the rapper and his crew
were ushered off the stage. In addition, Art Hirahara, a Japanese American emcee performed a
number of tunes which resonated with audience members seeking political rap songs. I vividly
recall the emcee performing a song entitled “Uncommon Ground” which addressed social
inequities with the vocal prowess of Public Enemy’s Chuck D.
Inspired by ISP, I purchased a number of second hand turntables and a cheap twochannel mixer to pursue DJ-ing. I began purchasing records at flea markets, thrift stores and
record shops and soon these purchases found their way into mixtapes I made for friends. Later, I
met a number of fellow DJs of Asian Pacific Islander descent and these relationships led to DJing many house parties during the 1990s. These relationships later culminated in a number of
DJ-ing gigs in the Bay Area during the 2000s.
My pursuit of DJ-ing coincided with an immersion in the Bay Area’s graffiti scene during
the 1990s. During this period, Asian American graffiti artists such as Barry “Twist” McGee,

9

Spie, Pak 1 and Dream rose to prominence and their works inspired me to write (vernacular
within the “graf” scene describing the act of spray painting and/or tagging). While living in San
Francisco’s Chinatown, I purchased spray cans from the local dime store and went on nightly
jaunts through alleyways spraying my tags and characters on whatever surface I could find. This
led to my introduction to the HMP (Her Most Precious) crew that was predominately comprised
of women of Asian Pacific Islander descent. I also went tagging with fellow Asian American
writer NYA during my undergraduate years at SFSU. Such alliances suggest a supportive panAsian network amongst its graffiti writers.
My collective experiences led to my involvement in hip-hop organizing for youth. As a
community health worker for Asian Health Services in Oakland’s Chinatown, my coworkers and
I developed an innovative afterschool program that combined health education with hip-hop
workshops that taught participants various skills such as breaking, emcee-ing, and DJ-ing. Such
experiences not only speak to the influence hip-hop culture has on Asian American youth but
also the coordinators of the program since the majority of us listened to hip-hop while growing
up in the Bay Area.
My immersion within the Bay Area hip-hop scene influences the direction of this study.
Being immersed within the scene has fostered relationships with gatekeepers that have resulted
in a number of interviews. My participation in social activist circles, in addition, has influenced
this study by instilling a sense of urgency, purpose, and more importantly a desire to accurately
portray the scene.
In order to interrogate why Asian Americans have an affinity for hip-hop culture, I have
collected a number of oral histories from participants residing in the Bay Area. In addition, I
have participated and observed a number of events ranging from DJ-ing weddings, attending

10

nightclubs and concerts, and participating in community based organizations and protests.
Fieldwork conducted has offered insights into how hip-hop culture plays out in the lives of Asian
Americans in the Bay Area.
For this study, I have decided to employ the term “scene” to capture the Bay Area’s
9

vibrant hip-hop culture. In so doing, I will reveal how Asian Americans participate within hiphop collectives, community based organizations, and/or events, in addition to producing cultural
products (i.e., music and videos). Thus, this study aims to provide a comprehensive picture of
the Bay Area hip-hop scene beyond the analysis of hip-hop releases.
This study showcases Asian Americans contributions to hip-hop culture by creating
works as graffiti artists, DJs, breakdancers, and/or emcees. This is not a study on “Asian
American hip-hop” because labeling it as such would define and demarcate what “Asian
American hip-hop” is.

10

As one interview argued, “there is no such thing as Asian American
11

music since we are influenced by so much.”

Indeed, many interviewees expressed multiple

reasons for becoming fans of and later agents of hip-hop culture.
The first chapter focuses on Asian American identity and cultural production. Within this
chapter, I argue that Asian American identity is inextricably tied to the homeland and fosters a
sense of diasporic nostalgia among Asian Americans and manifests throughout hip-hop cultural
productions referencing the mother country. Such notions of nostalgia are amplified during
times of crisis and I highlight how the response to Typhoon Ondoy (2009) showcases diasporic
nostalgia in action.
In chapter two, I argue that the model minority myth affects Asian Americans operating
within hip-hop by upholding the dominant racial paradigm that privileges whiteness over other
racial categories, especially blackness. By showcasing contemporary tensions and collaborations

11

between Asian Americans and African Americans in the Bay Area, I will reveal how such
incidents influence Asian Americans perceptions of hip-hop culture through the utility of
blackness.
The next three chapters reveal the legacy of Asian American hip-hop artists throughout
the pillars of hip-hop culture (i.e., DJ-ing, graffiti, and breakdancing). Emcees (rappers) are
prominently featured throughout this study, but I have chosen to devote chapters to Asian
American DJs, graffiti artists, and breakdancers to provide a more inclusive reading of hip-hop
culture that embraces its less championed counterparts.
Authenticity figures prominently within hip-hop discourse and the final chapter
problematizes the establishment of a singular Asian American hip-hop aesthetic. This chapter
reveals the variety genres in which Asian American hip-hop emcees participate and how
authenticity manifests in their releases. Authenticity plays a prominent role in hip-hop
organizing and education programs of the Bay Area, and this chapter sheds light into how
credibility and hip-hop knowledge figures into these efforts.
Later, while spinning my vinyl finds, I come to realization of how DJ-ing, serves as a
metaphor for Asian American voices within hip-hop culture. Cueing one record while another
plays, mirrors my interviewees responses, carefully arranged throughout the text. As I mix, the
voices briefly come together merging into something new but retaining the elements of each
before fading into the next track. As the next record plays, I squat below shuffling, like I did
before, looking for that perfect beat, that particular hook, or vocal. And somehow, it all comes
together, through trial and error, from adding and subtracting, mixing and adjusting. This is the
end result.

12

Chapter One: Asian American Identity: Diasporic Nostalgia and Cultural Production
Asian American identity is rooted both in the national experience of “being Asian” in the United
States and the international experience of immigration and colonialism. The social historical
context of the term “Asian American” reveals that its creation was in direct correlation to the
12

anti-Vietnam war movement.

Furthermore, its creation reveals a claiming of America and an

acknowledgement of the homeland. Zhou and Lee (2004) write:
Coined by the late historian and activist Yuji Ichioka, ‘Asian American’ was a
term initially used to describe a politically charge group identity in the ethnic
consciousness movements of the late 1960s. This self-proclaimed category
emerged to reject the Western-imposed category ‘Oriental’ and to fight
invisibility. Today, ‘Asian American’ is widely considered an umbrella term that
includes native- and foreign-born U.S. citizens and permanent residents from Asia
(east of Pakistan) or who have ancestors from this region. Asian-origin
Americans, especially those of East Asian origins who have long been dubbed
Oriental, adopt the pan-ethnic label because of convenience and because other
Americans cannot and often do not even try to make ethnic distinctions, despite
vast differences in national origin, religion, language, and culture. Moreover, the
pan-ethnic label has become instrumental for political mobilization and
activism.

13

Asian American identity therefore stakes claim to America while simultaneously acknowledging
one’s homeland.
For Asian Americans the notion of the homeland poses questions to their identities that
ultimately manifest in cultural productions. Peoples of Asian Pacific Islander ancestry create
13

works referencing both their respective homelands and the United States that are marked by a
nostalgic longing for the mother country. For some this eventually leads to returning to the
home country. Asian American identity, therefore, epitomizes the concept of a dual presence. In
combination, these acts acknowledge both the domestic and international spheres – a
phenomenon that I describe as diasporic nostalgia.
Nostalgia is not limited to cultural productions, but also interactions facilitated by
affordable travel and the proliferation of technology (i.e., the Internet, cell phones, and faxes)
that ultimately disrupt our notions of “here” and “there.”

14

Machida (2009) writes,

[a]s relatively inexpensive air transportation and access to powerful
communications and media technologies made it possible for migrants to more
easily travel back and forth between their many points of origin and the United
States and also to maintain strong ongoing connections to distant homelands,
15

migration became a more mutable phenomenon.

Thus, the act of migration, in recent years, has become a less traumatic experience since
communication between family members and friends occurs with relative ease due to advances
in technology. This situation has ultimately influenced an Asian American identity that is
characterized by a nostalgic longing for the homeland. The homeland figures prominently into
the lives of Asian Americans particularly in times of crisis in which Asian Americans aided by
social networking websites direct relief efforts towards the mother country.
For this chapter, I will apply the concept of diasporic nostalgia in a number of ways.
First, I will explore interviewees’ perception of their identities through recollections of migrating
to and settling in the United States followed by the act of returning home. Second, I will analyze
the releases of Filipino American hip-hop artists referencing the Philippines through imagery

14

and/or lyrics that showcase an emergent trend of Asian American identity – an identity that
straddles both the international and the domestic spheres. Finally, notions of home are solidified
during times of crisis and the online responses to Typhoon Ondoy showcases diasporic nostalgia
in action.
Memories of Migration and Settlement
Subjects interviewed for this chapter represent the heterogeneous composition of the Asian
American communities of the San Francisco Bay Area. The majority of interviewees were of
Filipino or Chinese ancestry representative of the two largest Asian ethnic populations of the Bay
Area.

16

Settlement to the Bay Area was not linear for some subjects since they migrated to

Southern California before moving northward. In order to showcase the unique circumstances
for migrating to the Bay Area, I have separated the experiences of Chinese and Filipino
participants for the forces leading to migration are unique for each ethnicity. This section
explores the question of identity as it relates to Asian American subjects. First, I will explore
interviewees’ memories of migration and resettlement followed by the act of “returning home.”
The following experiences represent individualized accounts under a collective experience of
migration to the United States and fall within two categories: memories of migration and
settlement and the act returning home.
Filipino Americans
Filipino migratory patterns post-1965 largely reflects the experience of fleeing a country ruled by
a dictatorship. Many interviewees noted the Marcos regime and martial law (established in
1972) as the main source for migrating to the United States. However, families were not

15

necessarily unified in their politics against Ferdinand Marcos. Many interviewees noted
divisions within the family unit: those who sided with anti-imperialist efforts and those who
supported Ferdinand Marcos. Some shared experiences of family members not being “politically
minded at all;” however, once settling in the United States, many apolitical families suddenly
became politicized due to unexpected circumstances.

17

One recalled a university colleague’s

predicament detailing that he was a “left-wing communist” only “a few years removed from
throwing Molotov cocktails at Marcos’ troops” pursuing a degree alongside “two groups of
18

Marcos cronies.”

Such frictions and factions within the larger migrant population resulted in

anti-Marcos efforts by the newly settled population. One interviewee recalled her father’s
political endeavors by stating, “He didn’t really have a job [in the United States] but he was very
politically active in the Philippines during the Marcos regime” and recalled him routinely
travelling back and forth as a close confident of Ninoy Aquino.

19

Although her father immersed

himself in seemingly leftist activities abroad, he identifies as a conservative in the United States
straying from Filipino American politics altogether. Thus, for interviewees, political differences
between conservative and liberal family members became divisive and perplexing especially for
elders who by in large stray away from domestic Filipino American politics.
The presence of the United States military bases and their hiring of Filipinos also
influenced Filipino migration patterns to the United States. Filipinos hired by the U.S. military
as stewards and chefs had the opportunity to petition for visas to migrate to the United States and
such linkages highlight the bulk of post-1965 migratory patterns of interviewees. For many
interviewees, migration to the United States was aided by their fathers’ military service and
many respondents recall their fathers’ possessing dual citizenship. Furthermore, the legacy of
the Philippine American War (1899-1902) resulted in a high number of Filipinas (Filipino

16

women) marrying American servicemen and having mixed (mestizo/a) offspring that held dual
citizenship status.
Dual citizenship led some interviewees to prepare for the transition to United States by
practicing American holidays. For example, one participant recalled celebrating Thanksgiving
as baffling:
Since my family was Americanized, we celebrated Thanksgiving. We had a
turkey and everything. And I kind of wondered, ‘What the hell? Nobody in the
Philippines celebrates Thanksgiving! What the hell are [we] celebrating that for?’
[We] just did it because [my relatives] were American. My great grandfather and
grandfather were Americans.

20

Thus, the economic opportunities championed by the U.S. migratory experience resultantly
affects the identity of those possessing dual citizenship marking such Filipinos as a privileged
class temporarily tied to the Philippines.
Many recall their parent’s transmitting Filipino culture through materials items. Parents
migrating to the U.S. often brought cultural mementos such as banings (woven floor mats),
Filipino swords displays, wooden spoon and fork wall ornaments as cultural signifiers or
reminders of their homeland. In addition, yearbooks, photographs, trunks and furniture found
their way into many homes.
The transmission of culture did not, however, extend much beyond the material as
participants’ parents discouraged language acquisition. Many participants noted that their
parents discouraged them from speaking Tagalog, the most spoken Filipino dialect, as an attempt
to try to keep their children “as American as possible.”
decision:

17

21

One participant recalls his parent’s

The only thing they transferred was the Philippines. They did not want to teach
us the language. We made fun of them for having accents and all of that. They
did not want to make it an issue. I do not even carry my mom’s maiden name. It
was my father’s way of saying, ‘We are American.’

22

Many participants recall understanding “a little bit” of a Filipino dialect but not fully
comprehending the language as a result of parents’ desires to keep their offspring “as American
as possible.”

23

Efforts to stifle children from learning a Filipino dialect were reinforced by
24

migrants’ English fluency.

The suppression of the maintenance of Filipino language(s) while

embracing English can be seen as an act of becoming American as possible which, in turn,
equates an emulation of whiteness. Zhou (2009) reveals that many Asian Americans believe
“white is synonymous with American.”

25

Distancing oneself from one’s ascribed ethnic or racial category speaks to the imposed
otherness many Filipinos in America face sometimes leading to misidentification due to visibility
depending on the place of settlement. One participant who migrated to the Midwest before
California recalled being misidentified as other Asian ethnicities. “People thought we were
Vietnamese. They didn’t know what to call us besides “gooks,” “japs,” and, “chinks,” he
recalls.

26

“They could not figure out what we were. Sometimes when I had longer hair, they
27

would think I was Native American,” he recounts.

Thus, racial and ethnic misidentification

pervaded their daily lives influencing his father to associate with non-whites until relocating to
ethnically diverse San Francisco.
Interviewees noted that race and ethnicity were not the only obstacles they faced when
settling in the United States; class was also a factor. Many noted the hardships adjusting to their

18

new environment were characterized by downward mobility. One participant shared his
recollections of leaving the Philippines and trying to maintain previous class status while
resettling in North Hollywood:
We sort of restaged the compound I grew up in. Definitely the living conditions
were far worse because we did not have the quality of life because my mother had
to leave in quite a hurry and we did not have a lot of cash. It was drastic. The
circumstances of our departure, of our exile that we came up here with little to
nothing back to being working class, or in the United States, working poor – and
then we got back on our feet again – but certainly never to the standards I was
born into.

28

The above experience echoed true for many interviewees adjusting to their class status. Many
participants noted the shift from a comfortable middle-class lifestyle in the Philippines to
suddenly living in low-income apartments. One participant shared his experience growing up in
a low-income multiracial apartment complex:
I live in the same apartment complex I grew up in. It is so different now
compared to what it used to be. It is nice and quiet now. Back then it was lowincome housing. [During] that time you had so many kids running around –
different races, Filipinos, Afghans, the white kids. It was a big mess in the
backyard.

29

Raising children in low-income environments not only exposed youth to the multiracial
composition of their neighborhoods but also the public school system. Many parents turned to
Catholic private schools for their children’s education in order to maintain their Catholic
traditions brought over from the Philippines and to avoid problems of large urban schools.

19

Filipinos interviewed for this study are highly educated and most obtained bachelors
degrees with many going on for masters, and/or doctoral degrees in the humanities. Many cited
their experiences at San Francisco State University as pivotal not only in instilling a sense of
ethnic pride and agency but also in influencing many of them to work for and/or establishing
community based organizations of the Bay Area such as Filipinos for Affirmative Action, Asian
Health Services, and Filipino Civil Rights Advocates. Some opened their own businesses
serving Filipino American and Asian American clientele such as nightclubs (the Poleng Lounge)
and restaurants (No Worries and Mercury Lounge). Such efforts not only speak to the resiliency
of Filipino Americans of the Bay Area, but also the ability and privilege to establish Filipino
American specific businesses and organizations to address the population’s needs.
Chinese Americans
Chinese American migratory experiences differ significantly from that of Filipino Americans.
For the most part, Chinese interviewed migrated to the U.S. for economic and education
opportunities rather than fleeing a dictatorship. Participants interviewed noted that their parents
migrated from Guangzhou (Canton) Province to the Bay Area due to its high concentration of
Chinese Americans and social services.
Chinese immigrants to the Bay Area faced challenges rooted class, race, and language.
Settlement did not represent downward mobility for the majority of Chinese participants, but
rather reinforced their working-class status. However, settling in the U.S. presented racial
challenges since many grew up in multiracial low-income neighborhoods such as East Oakland
and San Francisco’s Visitacion Valley. In addition, immigrants faced challenges in area of
language. One participant recalled her father being fired from his job at a gas station after one

20

day for not understanding English. In order to navigate the language barrier many Chinese
participants recalled their parents working as janitors or bus boys, an experience shared by many
Latina/o migrants.
Obstacles presented by the language barrier led many Chinese to seek out services in one
30

of the many Chinatown’s of the Bay Area.

Oakland’s Chinatown houses many support

services to address the needs of low-income Chinese. For example, Wah Sung Service Club at
Lincoln Recreational Center distributes free lunch to economically disadvantaged Chinatown
residents. San Francisco participants recall parents utilizing social services such as food stamps,
ESL, and assistance with social services paperwork. However, traditional social services were
not the only avenues accessed for support as many relied on family friends for babysitting which
characterizes the tight knit and resilient community. One participant recalled her parents
dropping her off at an “Old Chinese lady’s house” early in the morning and would pick her up at
ten in the evening while they were juggling three janitorial positions.

31

Many interviewees shared experiences that reflect the general upwardly mobile
characteristics found among Chinese migrant populations. One participant recounted his father
migrating from Canton Province to the United States only to live in a low-income apartment in
New York for many years while pursuing multiple degrees. After earning a M.D., his father
relocated to the Bay Area where he practiced his profession as a neurologist and bought a home
32

in Piedmont, an “upper middle class suburban city embedded inside of Oakland.”

He

continues that Piedmont, “one of the highest tax brackets” in California, carries the air of an
“illusion of safety” and “privilege” leading Piedmont High School administrators to turn a blind
eye to the marijuana and alcohol consumption on campus.

33

He recalls being able to “count the

number of African Americans at Piedmont High on one or two hands” and an unhealthy

21

competition between white and Asian students.

34

Many students fell into the rut of “acting

hard” or “gangsta” manifested in “Azn pride” (Asian Pride); however such affinities were
superficial because students “were not attuned to race.”

35

The majority of Piedmont High

School students went onto four years institutions entering the CSU or UC systems, because of
Piedmont High’s “higher footing” as opposed to the Oakland Unified School District.

36

Chinese who are raised in affluent suburban environments were not totally removed from
the ethnic ghetto of Chinatown. Chinese Americans not only shop and eat in Chinatown but also
volunteer at many of the social service providers. As a result, many suburban Chinese hold a
certain amount of affinity for Chinatown. One participant recounted his family’s history of
volunteerism in Chinatown influencing his decision to volunteer at Asian Health Services: “I tell
people I lived in Piedmont, but I grew up in Chinatown.”

37

Thus, suburban Chinese have the

ability to work in Chinatown, but not live in Chinatown. This strikingly leads suburban Chinese
and urban Chinese to take on surprisingly different paths: one to uplift and volunteer for the sake
of Chinatown’s low-income population and another to escape the economic confines of
Chinatown.
Those that seek to leave the confines of Chinatown oftentimes do so through education
only to come back to Chinatown to uplift its residents through community oriented professional
careers. Chinese interviewed for this study all went on to obtain bachelor’s and/or masters
degrees at state and private universities in and out of California and are intrinsically tied to
Chinatown through their ties to social service agencies (through access and volunteerism) or by
frequenting many of the establishments for food while working or accessing the aforementioned
groups. On a number of occasions, I have met Chinese interviewed for this study at
establishments in Oakland’s Chinatowns for a bowl of ph! (Vietnamese noodle soup).

22

Discussing memories of migration in combination with political strategies to uplift the various
Asian American communities simultaneously straddled domestic and international spheres
through the consumption of food from the Asian diaspora. In this case, eating ph! became a
practice of Chinese migrants consuming food of their neighbors, the newly arrived Vietnamese
refugee population, but also a cultural marker and practice of East Bay activists to discuss issues
pertinent to Asian American communities.
Returning “Back Home”
The process of returning home for many Asian Americans is intrinsically tied to identity politics.
Many students of Ethnic Studies and Asian American Studies cultivate a sense of identity
influenced by legislative acts and historical racialization and as a result become culturallyactivated.

38

Thus, Asian American Studies serves as a conduit for many students to serve their

respective communities. The exposure to Asian American history often leads many Asian
Americans through a period of ethnocentricity; the consumption of popular culture, foods, and
political figures (i.e., Mao Zedong, Ho Chi Minh, Gandhi, and Jose Rizal) and the distancing
from their “Americanness” equated with “whiteness.”

39

A fertile ground to cultivate identity

politics facilitated by this newly found form of cultural nationalism often leads Asian Americans
back to their respective countries of origin often romantically referred to as “back home.”
Notions of life “back home” are intrinsically tied to feelings of nostalgia for the
homeland. Maira (2002) notes nostalgia is “embedded in the yearning for cultural authenticity”
40

and is highlighted by contradictions.

Vergara (2009) argues the “nostalgic impulse is an act of
41

self-delusion, where the faraway past (or the past) is reconfigured as closer to the ideal.”

23

Indeed, many of the interviewees’ experiences, which follow, highlight the contradictions raised
by returning to the home country.
Language and its maintenance posited challenging for interviewees upon return resulting
in culture shock. One recalls returning to the Philippines after thirty-two years being “very
strange:”
The strangest part for me was that everything was different. I had grown up there
for the early part of my childhood and what was strange was that nothing was
familiar, even the language. I speak Tagalog, but it was just very unfamiliar. I
had become so Americanized. You study your culture here but, it is different
42

once you are in it.

Likewise, another participant noted upon returning to Guangzhou (Canton) that she “understood
43

the language” (Cantonese) but “some of the tones and slang [were] different.”

She recalls

being called a gwaimoi or “white girl” because she is from the United States and relatives
questioning her physical stature and dress:
I am not skinny or flat chested. To them I am dressed too provocative when I am
wearing a tank top. [Their reaction] was ‘you don’t wear tank tops or shorts.’
They expect you to wear that uniform: dress pants and shirt. ‘It is hella’ (very)
44

hot!

Her experience of not fitting the physical expectations of what a Chinese woman should be
combined with acclimating to her homeland led her relatives to question her “Chineseness.”
The process of identification is two-fold and contradictory: she is labeled “Chinese” in the
United States and not “Chinese” in China. Thus, for many Asian Americans, the process of

24

45

returning home re-instates their “Americanness” an identifier many Chinese Americans resist in
the States.
For some Filipino Americans the return to the Philippines revealed the stark contrast
between the U.S. and the home country. One noted her experiences as revelatory:
I was just so used to how life was here [in the U.S.]. It made me realize that I
took a lot of things for granted. Just seeing the poverty on the streets makes you
realize why people want to bail. No opportunities and no kind of social structure
46

to move out of unless you are corrupt and know the right people.

Sights of poverty and corruption upon returning to the homeland ultimately challenged
romanticized visions of home. One interviewee came to the realization that “the dollar is king”
47

in which “you can buy your way through anything.”

He recalled his family going through

customs with relative ease by bribing customs agents and witnessing such corruption made him
realize the difference between the Filipinos in the Philippines and the United States:
Being Filipino American is an understanding completely different from the
Philippines and coming over here. It is two different worlds. It is two different
cultures. The only thing[s] that [are] holding you to the Philippines [are] the color
of your skin or that your parents were there and [those are] the only thing[s] that
[are] different.

48

These differences resonated with him later while at San Francisco State University when he took
part in the Pilipino American Collegiate Endeavor (PACE) as opposed to the League of Filipino
Students (LFS) a group which attracted politically minded Filipino Americans and pushed them
towards the anti-imperialist fight in the Philippines. He found such motives dubious:

25

My argument was that none of these people have been to the Philippines. They
can talk about all they want about what is going on in the Philippines, but our
budgets are still going to get cut and they are not doing anything about it. I think
of all that energy they were using was wasted on something that is outside our
borders.

49

His opinion echoes the often times contradictory political pursuits of Filipinos in the United
States – that of uplifting the Filipino American population or that of the population “back home.”
Witnessing the plight of Philippines first hand, however, did not question notions of
home for all Filipino participants. Upon returning in the early 1990s, one participant found
solace in his relatives. He recalls his lola (Grandmother) reassuring him that he “should always
know that you have a home here.”

50

Upon reflection, he remembers his friends telling him that

by the “fourth week, you are going to have a hard time leaving” – a decision that he found to be
correct:
It became difficult. I was in organizations at school. I delayed going back. I
stayed in Bagio when the typhoon hit. It was so fucking cold too! It made me
think of school. Then when I was back in San Francisco, I wanted to be there [the
Philippines].

51

He also experienced culture shock rooted in ethnic misidentification similar to his experience in
the United States: “I went through such culture shock coming back. Filipinos did not think of me
being from the United States. They thought I was something else – “he must be Chinese,
52

Japanese, or Malaysian.”

Thus, the act of returning home represents an identity crisis

mediated through notions of dual presence: acknowledging one’s ancestral history and ethnicity
becomes an ever present question of acceptance.

26

The aforementioned experiences have often been described as being indicative of the
transnational experience which evokes notions of having multiple “homes,” non-linear migratory
patterns, flexible citizenship, and/or being displaced.

53

Many of those interviewed returned to

the homeland to visit, however, the majority of them lack the transnational linkages (i.e., visas,
work permits, capital, and housing arrangements) required to stay in their homeland for extended
periods of time. Thus participants interviewed for this study are not necessarily “transmigrants”
but rather Asian Americans who possess the ability to travel to the home country.
Referencing the Homeland: Filipino American Hip-Hop Cultural Productions
Asian American artists straddle a precariously thin line between the domestic and the diasporic.
Machida (2009) writes, “reflecting the varied transnational and diasporic positions, the
54

discontinuities between the domestic and diasporic can be quite pronounced.”

For example,

Asians migrants often look upon Asian Americans as being overly political. Furthermore, Asian
American artists feel the pressure to be “cultural ambassadors” for the larger Asian American
communities invoking notions of artistic responsibility rooted in representational identity
politics.

55

In addition, Asian American artists produce and perform culture as a calculated act

of self-consciousness and this pressure becomes intensified by Asian American hip-hop artists’
responsibility to “represent” one’s people and homeland.

56

By focusing on two artists from the

underground – Nump and Native Guns – I hope to examine the strategic decisions tied to
national identity and how notions of home are addressed by Filipino American hip-hop artists.
Many hip-hop groups featuring Asian Americans have emerged from the Bay Area and
57

Filipino American hip-hop artists represent the largest community.

De Leon (2004) notes that

Filipino Americans have moved on from DJ-ing, breakdancing, and graffiti into the world of
27

58

emceeing.

Emceeing, in turn, requires a more pronounced expression that the other aspects of
59

hip-hop culture, and thus, puts artists in situations in which they are racial misidentified.

Bay

Area hip-hop culture replicates predominate fixations of space and place through claiming one’s
territory through telephone area codes [i.e., 707 (Vallejo) 415 (San Francisco) and 510 (the East
Bay)] – and affiliations to one’s crew based upon race and/or alliances often referred to as “my
peoples,” “cousins,” “folks,” among other coded words rooted in familial relationships: such
60

markers transform when national symbols are added to the equation.

For example, Vallejo

Filipino American hyphy artist Nump’s mixtape entitled The Gorillapino Comp (2009) features
the artist wearing an oversized black shirt emblazoned with the sun of the Philippines. Below
the artist’s image are two highly politicized flags of the Katipunan alongside the current national
flag of the Philippines. The Katipunan was the revolutionary anti-Spanish independence group
during the late 19th century Philippines (1892-1897). The majority of hyphy fans are most likely
unaware of the Katipunan but they are accustomed to Filipino Americans since many hip-hop
artists such as Mistah F.A.B. and KMEL’s Rick Lee have given “shout outs” to the Filipino
American fan-base.

61

Thus, Nump’s utilization of flags can be read not only as an act of pride
62

but as an act of resistance against non-Filipinos wearing Filipino garments.

Nump’s marketing, a combination of appearances, videos, and mixtapes distributed by
the online media outlets reveals a continued emphasis on his Filipino heritage. In the music
video for Jump On Da Scrape (2008) Nump rides the hood of an automobile wearing an
oversized white t-shirt with the Philippine flag.

63

World-renowned turntablist, DJ Qbert, also

Filipino American, appears in the video solidifying Nump’s credibility by receiving support from
one of the Bay Area’s pioneering hip-hop artists. Additionally, Bay Area hip-hop star E-40

28

figures prominently in the video since Nump’s releases are distributed by the Vallejo rapper’s
Sick Wid It Records label. Furthermore, the multiracial composition of the video in combination
with its albeit sexist inclusion of women is indicative of the pressure to represent the Bay Area in
an inclusive fashion. Such charged imagery rooted in racial, ethnic and gender politics speak to
the pressures to represent not only the “home,” “area code,” or “city” but also its vibrant culture.
Nump’s efforts to address his Filipino fan-base speak to the pressures Asian American artists
face as “cultural ambassadors;” however, Nump does not address topics stemming from the
homeland but rather addresses a uniquely Filipino American predicament heightened and
scrutinized by hip-hop culture. The predicament is clear: hip-hop culture is based upon skill and
success is measured in sales. Therefore, Nump rapping about issues about Filipino Americans
and the Philippines would limit and demarcate his fan-base hence the subtitle of The Gorillapino
Comp, Muzik 4 Damasses (music for the masses).
Native Guns, a defunct Filipino American hip-hop group comprised of Kiwi and Bambu,
64

epitomizes Asian American hip-hop through lyrical content.

Their lyrics focus on issues such

as global capitalism, occupation, racism, sexism, oppression, and resistance that resonate with
culturally-activated Asian American audiences. The song and the accompanying music video for
Drowning (2007), for example, examine the politics of representation through the lives of a
Pinay (woman) and a Pinoy (man). Emphasizing the experiences faced by Filipino Americans
looking for role models in the mainstream media, the song follows the two different live paths
which ultimately manifest in devastating results: the Pinay commits suicide after an overdose
brought on by self-hate while the Pinoy succumbs to the grip of the industrial prison complex as
a result of emulating the “gangsta” lifestyle. Alternatively, Native Guns addresses global and
local issues by critiquing global capitalism in their song “Work It” (2006). In sum, the song

29

addresses the conundrum faced by radical leftist hip-hop artists: posturing anti-globalization
rhetoric while wearing hip-hop “gear” (clothes, jewelry, and cellular phones) manufactured in
the Third World. The lyrics address cheap labor markets in the Philippines, Africa, and the
United States through the consumption of hip-hop gear: a “Raiders cap,” “Gap slacks,” “Louis
Vuitton,” “Nike,” “Shiniest stones (jewels from Sierra Leone),” “coffee, artichokes, and
broccoli” and “cellular phones” – all of which are produced by exploitive labor practices. A
song of self-critique in an undeniably Marxist fashion, “Work It” not only admonishes the forces
of global capitalism through the experiential but also encourages the exploited not to give up and
make “that money, honey.” In sum, song addresses the adage “think globally, act locally” within
a culturally-activated context.
Native Guns marketing tactics represents politically-conscious Asian American hip-hop
at its peak. Relying on metropolitan and college towns with large and culturally-active Asian
American student bodies, the group successfully toured the United States promoting themselves
through social network media outlets like MySpace and Facebook. For example, the group’s
appearance at University of Michigan in 2006 drew approximately two hundred fans by word of
mouth and tour dates shared on the Internet. The crowd, while not exclusively Asian American,
raised their fists, in a display of unity and resistance during Bambu and Kiwi’s utilization of the
hip-hop practice of call and response through the cries of “put your fists up!” and “who’s in the
house?”
The success of Filipino American hip-hop artists of the Bay Area hinges upon mass
appeal. The politically conscious lyrics of Native Guns appeal to an educated college minded
audience as indicative of their mainly Asian American, and particularly, Filipino American
audience. Nump, on the other hand, exhibits a mass appeal through the Hyphy Movement

30

through the display of Bay Area pride widening his potential for sales in the mainstream local
market. Nump achieves mainstream radio play since the local commercial hip-hop station
KMEL supports its homebred artists which emphasize the “safe” Bay Area niche while the reach
of Native Guns and subsequent solo careers are limited to left-leaning college, pirate, and/or
65

“free” radio stations (KALX, KPOO, KPFA, and East Oakland Radio).

Both Nump and Native Guns wield a calculated identity politic rooted in the
Filipino/American experience. Nump’s fashion is intrinsically tied to the Philippines and
represents a pride less dependent on lyrical content. On the other hand, Native Guns’ lyrical
emphasis on the Filipino and Filipino American experience grants the group a certain amount of
credibility reliant less on fashion and more on politics that is reinforced by their sole album’s
title – Barrel Men (2006). The title of Native Guns album can be read two ways: as an act of
ethnic pride emphasizing a particular masculine Filipino American endeavor or as a gun. The
barrel man, a carved Filipino souvenir made for tourists, is a wooden male figurine covered by a
barrel. When the barrel is raised an enormous phallus is revealed surprising the viewer.
Alternatively, the barrel can also be read as a barrel of a gun.
The Internet is integral to the success of both Nump and Native Guns by serving as a tool
to distribute releases and announcing appearances. For aspiring hip-hop artists of Asian Pacific
Islander descent, both artists represent success through circumventing traditional music
marketing techniques free of the mainstream music industry. As a result, the subsequent
generations with the technological “know-how” and access are afforded the ability to release and
share their productions for little capital. In addition, video producers, in the case of Native Guns,
represent the practice tapping into existing linkages between artists within the larger Californian
66

Asian American network.

And as the next section will show, the Internet increasingly figures

31

into the lives of Asian Americans presenting challenges to previous erected identities tied to the
homeland.
The Homeland in Crisis: The Philippines, Filipino Americans, and the Facebook
Generation
Lisa Nakamura’s seminal essay on cyberspace (2000) claims the Internet in its infancy
championed the erasure of categories as epitomized by Microsoft’s commercial featuring a
variety of people erasing the said categories of race, class, and gender.

67

The following years

proved otherwise; the proliferation of groups based on sexual preference, race, ethnicity and
gender throughout chat rooms, bulletin boards, websites to contemporary blogs and journals
dispelled this assimilationist vision. Marginalized communities lacking venues to mediate their
voices suddenly experienced having voices freed from the traditional outlets of the press and
television. For Asian Americans, the Internet not only enables communication across great
distances, but also serves as a battleground to assert an Asian American identity through acts of
online resistance through responses to anti-Asian stereotypes perpetuated by the mainstream
media.

68

The hyper-interconnectedness of contemporary day-to-day status updates via Facebook
and Twitter combined with wireless technologies, email, and webcams instantaneously connects
communities in ways once unimaginable particularly during times of crisis. For example, on
September 26, 2009 Typhoon Ondoy swept through the Philippines causing massive flooding
and destruction. News of its destructive power immediately flooded the social networking site
Facebook. Links documenting the tragedy were shared and posted to many a user profile which
inspired mobilization efforts between Filipinos abroad that directed relief efforts “back home.”

32

For example, Ray Salonga’s Facebook profile status updated from Piedmont, California on
September 27, 2009 signifies his dual presence: “Yikes! They are evacuating my hometown!”

69

What transpired over the next few days represents mobilization across borders at its finest.
Ray’s brother created a PayPal account linked to relief efforts and within the first few hours
donations flooded in. Ray’s status on September 28, 2009 reads,
Folks, please read my note – my brother has set up an email account just for
PayPal donations and has raised over $1000 in about 5 hours from Facebook
friends alone! He and his spouse have been...running off to the supermarket and
buying the canned goods themselves – and dropping them off personally at the
70

relief center in Ateneo. Please help!

Ray’s plea immediately followed by an image of goods purchased for distribution posted to his
71

profile as proof under the status update which reads, “here they are in action!”

Soon after

Ray’s efforts a number of Filipino American community organizations followed suit among
them, Bayan USA, and the local Bay Area hip-hop program Distortion-2-Static’s Legendary
Fundraiser for the P.I. (October 1) followed by a fundraiser at Poleng Lounge. The Bay Area’s
efforts arguably influenced subsequent events held in Los Angeles including We Are One
(October 22) and Ondoy Project (October 28). The rapid succession of events following the
Typhoon highlights the resourcefulness on part of Filipino American communities of California,
the largest Asian American population in California. The initial efforts mobilized by individuals
donating to PayPal accounts rather than the Red Cross and other relief agencies suggests that
participants valued a direct connection to the survivors through an ad-hoc relief effort on the part
of interested individuals.

33

Subsequent relief efforts to the earthquakes which devastated Haiti (2010) and northern
Japan (2011) offers a compelling contrast on behalf of its migrants living aboard. Both countries
have a relatively small number of nationals living in the U.S. and this in turn impacted their
abilities to respond collectively to the crisis. Instead, the response to each crisis relied upon
charitable events spearheaded by musicians. Such events continue a long tradition of musicians
mobilizing to bring about change.

72

The response on part of Asian American communities to the crisis in Japan, however,
paled in comparison to relief efforts directed towards the Philippines. Facebook users created
avatars symbolizing their sympathy for earthquake victims and a collective response on behalf of
Asian Americans did not take place until much later. Japan Restart Charity Concert (April 16)
was held over two days in San Francisco – one month after the earthquake. The multiethnic
event featured a variety of Japanese American artists – the ScoJourners, jazz musician Mark Izu
and performance artist Brenda Wong Aoki – in addition to a number of cultural performances by
Korean, Latino, and Vietnamese collectives. This was followed by the Oakland Asian Cultural
Center’s We Are One Island (April 23) featuring a number of Japanese American musicians such
as emcee Colin “Senbei” Ehara, Michael Sasaki of the jazz group Hiroshima, and a number of
Japanese Taiko and dance performances. Sweet Relief (April 23) took place in Hollywood
followed by Play For Japan USA (April 29) in Woodside, California. In sum, the ethnic and
racial composition of the events straddled two differing camps: multicultural collaboratives and
ethnic specific Japanese American alliances.
Mobilization efforts on part of the Filipino American communities and concerned parties
signals the need for further investigation on the impact of the Internet on identity and
community. With a click of a mouse, users immediately share concerns and via capital can

34

establish accounts directly tied to relief efforts – a phenomenon with striking implications on
users’ domestic and global identities. As mobilization efforts continually rely on social
networking sites proves beneficial the challenge to incorporate such realities as a form of local
and global capital become realized through the notions of “here” and “there.”
Conclusion
It ain’t where you from,
It’s where you’re at. – Rakim
The oft-repeated line from Eric B and Rakim’s “I Ain’t No Joke” (1987) contends that
representing one’s place is futile unless one is grounded. Rooted primarily in the African
American experience, such a call was used to distinguish one-self from acts of aggrandizement
within the hip-hop community. However, for people of Asian Pacific Islander ancestry, it is
precisely where people under the multi-ethnic umbrella term of Asian American are from,
whether it is the homeland or the States that determines their ethnic identities, at least for the
moment.
Asian Americans interviewed for this chapter possess a deep understanding of their
migratory experiences and possess a desire to reference the homeland through acts of
consumption. Those interviewed are forever tied to the mythical homeland and their
experiences exude a certain sense of marginality – not Chinese or Filipino enough in the home
country, and not American (i.e., white) enough in the States.
Popular Filipino American hip-hop artists break free of the constraints of marginality by
carving out their own spaces within the larger Bay Area hip-hop community through
underground channels facilitated by social networking sites. References to the homeland are

35

achieved through dress, lyrical content, and/or imagery tied to album releases and videos. Since
such endeavors are free from major label pressures, the artists are granted a level of freedom to
present themselves in the manner that they please – in this case-wielding a certain amount of
national and ethnic pride stemming from the Filipino and Filipino American experience.
Technology presented challenges for Asian American populations invested in the welfare
of their respective homelands. The collective response by Asian American populations to the
devastation caused by Typhoon Ondoy in the Philippines speaks to the utility of a pan-Asian
politic to address needs stemming from the home country free from inter-ethnic squabbles of
representation under the political banner of “Asian American.” Most importantly, such a
response represents a bridging of the international and domestic spheres influencing our notions
of “Asian American” beyond the U.S. experience.

36

Chapter Two: Caught In-between: Asian Americans, Hip-Hop, and the Model Minority
Now, red, white, black, tan, yellow, or brown,
It really doesn’t matter, we can all get down,
And doowhatwelike, yeah, and doowhatwelike. – Digital Underground

All my Negroes, Latinos, Filipinos. – Mistah F.A.B.
Better rip through ’em from the tip of my Mao Tse-Tung. – The Coup
So don’t follow me, up and down your market,
Or your little chop suey ass will be a target. – Ice Cube

The aforementioned lyrics of widely recognized hip-hop songs originate from California, three
from the Bay Area, one from Los Angeles, and capture the Asian Pacific Islander subject within
rap music spanning over twenty years. From the idealistic funk of Digital Underground’s
“Doowutchyalike” (1990) to the contemporary hyphy sounds of Mistah F.A.B.’s “Super Sic Wid
It” (2005), black hip-hop artists of Oakland, California reflect the multiracial composition of the
Bay Area through positive party time lyrics. Such optimism, however, overlooks the realities of
racial hierarchies and resultant disparities faced among non-whites communities vying for space
and services stemming from neglect manifested through deindustrialization, urban renewal, and
trickle down Reaganomics.

73

Ice Cube’s “Black Korea” (1991) encapsulates contestations

between Asians and blacks during the Reagan Bush era by pitting yellow versus black arguably
74

adding fuel to the fires of the Los Angeles Uprising (1992).

Indeed, Rodney King’s cry of

“can we all get along?” seemed to temporarily serve as a fire retardant to civil unrest; however,
37

the vision of Korean shop owners armed with automatic rifles atop of their businesses
permanently etched itself in the public’s mind.

75

Two years preceding Ice Cube’s incendiary

song, Oakland’s the Coup released “Dig It” (1993), an unapologetically Marxist track culling
inspiration from Che Guevara, H. Rap Brown, the Mau Mau, and last but not least, Mao Zedong.
The Coup, led by afro-ed Boots Riley, encapsulates a truly Bay Area political hybrid stemming
from the birthplace of ethnic studies, the Black Panther Party, the Red Guards, and the Brown
Berets. It is no surprise that Boots references Mao given the influence of the Little Red Book on
counter-hegemonic struggles of the 1960s onward. The influential Maoist quote “power comes
from the barrel of a gun” manifested in public displays of power by armed Black Panthers speaks
to cross cultural influences between blacks and Asians. Indeed, one of largely forgotten and
recently deceased Black Panther, Richard Aoki (1938 - 2009), was not black, but Japanese
American.
Aoki’s invisibility within a largely black political organization speaks to the larger issue
of visibility of Asians Pacific Islanders within hip-hop culture. The aforementioned songs place
the Asian subject within the lens of blackness through the vocalized lyrics of black men. In turn,
the Asian subject in hip-hop becomes a signifier for multicultural inclusion, animosity,
collaboration, and/or influence. However, Asian subjects appear most often as backdrops, not
76

agents, of hip-hop culture.

Flashback to 1993, San Francisco, California, Digable Planets takes a break from their
opening number to address the audience. I am in attendance with my black girlfriend, and
bemused by the overwhelmingly white audience that it inspired a game between us: count your
people. I counted the Asians, she, the blacks. In the end I won, but such a win was bittersweet
since Butterfly addressed the crowd racially as blacks, whites, and Orientals. I booed Butterfly’s

38

use of this Eurocentric term as the images of the Japanese jazz band accompanying Digable
Planets’ music video Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat) (1992) faded into obscurity.
Such an occurrence became commonplace during my relationship with my black
girlfriend due to the civil unrests of the period. I had been chastised two years beforehand for
wearing Bob Marley’s Uprising t-shirt by a Filipino American JROTC platoon leader accusing
me of trying to be black. My soon to be girlfriend came to my aid only to be punished with
pushups as a rifle lay over her knuckles. On the night of the Rodney King verdict punctuated by
a precautionary Oakland curfew, we rode the bus home from Berkeley together as a black male
looked in our direction and muttered, “sleeping with the enemy.” Confused, I did not respond,
not knowing whether the man was referring to the album by Black Panther rapper Paris (1992) or
if he knew that Paris had given accolades to the Bay Area Korean American hip-hop group Fists
of Fury.
Confusions regarding musical affiliations harkened back to the days of my youth in
Alameda, California roller-skating with my sister to tunes by Con Funk Shun, the Gap Band, and
Earth Wind and Fire. My parents regulated such funky offerings to the television screen best
represented by Soul Train, Solid Gold, Dance Fever, and the more adult-oriented music videos
of Black Entertainment Television. At an early age, I had an affinity for funk, but to display
such a liking vocally in the early 1980s was unheard of for funk equated blackness and the
dangerous city next door – Oakland. Despite my taste for funk, I was wary of wearing such a
racialized badge in public. I succinctly recall my auntie’s black boyfriend jovially asking
whether or not I liked soul music on the steps of my home. I stood speechless. Such a term
confused me, as did subsequent racial tests applied to music.

39

This chapter examines the Asian American subject within the larger hip-hop canon
through ethnographic research. Most scholarship regarding Asian Americans and hip-hop has
77

focused on artists, authenticity, Orientalist tropes or transnational fusions.

I respond to Oliver

Wang’s “Rapping and Repping Asian: Race Authenticity, and the Asian American MC” (2007)
in which he argued for the need of ethnographic fieldwork on Asian American hip-hop audiences
78

and contemporary ethnographic scholarship.

In this section, I am interested in investigating

why Asian Americans gravitate towards hip-hop – a question that is subject to much debate in
Asian American circles. Through ethnographic research conducted during a period of civil
unrest stemming from the killing of Oscar Grant, this chapter aims to address contemporary
frictions and collaborations between African Americans and Asian Americans in the Bay Area. I
hope to investigate the relationships between Asian Americans and African Americans through
an interrogation of the utility of blackness, the model minority myth, and its impact on Asian
American identity within hip-hop culture.
Conversion and Diversion: Afro-Asian Connections and Disconnections
Contemporary Afro-Asian scholarship highlights collaborative steps across the color line through
political engagement and cultural production and such work represents a conversion of these two
diasporas. A number of theoretical approaches rooted in historical analysis examine the border
crossings between African and Asian peoples and such scholarship constructs an Afro-Asian
historiography of cross-cultural collaboration focusing primarily on political engagement.
Steps across racial boundaries are not limited to racial politics, but also popular culture.

79

80

Contemporary relationships between African and Asian Americans, however, have been
problematic and these ruptures represent a diversion between the diasporas. Asian Americans

40

are most often than not portrayed as beneficiaries of the Civil Rights Movement or more
appropriately, the Black Freedom Struggle. In addition, black critics such as Tate (2003) and
Kitwana (2005) contend that hip-hop is a uniquely African American creation and thereby
81

demarcate what is authentically black and what is not.

As a result, Asian American

involvement within hip-hop circles is largely questioned and/or met with suspicion.
Race relations between African and Asian Americans in the Bay Area have been tenuous
at best.

82

In 2010, a number of crimes and homicides perpetrated by African American males
83

against Asian victims have filled newspaper headlines.

Perceived as easy targets, Asian

Americans are caught in-between and often refuse to press charges due to language barriers,
retaliation, and/or fear of the authorities. An interviewee recalls an incident with African
American youth that occurred in the early 1990s:
We had a 1979 two-door Plymouth – really beat up and old. We were stopped at
a stoplight and these African American kids were walking across the street and
they saw us. They bounced their basketball on our windshield, shattered it,
laughed, and walked off.

84

Such interracial conflict stems from previous anti-Asian sentiment during the Los Angeles
Uprisings fueling tensions in Oakland throughout the early 1990s. Korean, Chinese, and
Cambodian ownership of liquor stores, donut shops, and restaurants in low-income communities
caused resentment on behalf of some African Americans trying to establish black-owned
businesses in economically depressed Oakland – resentment not limited to Oakland but also San
Francisco.
Instances of violence between African and Asian Americans punctuate the experiences of
interviewees coming of age in the economically depressed areas of the San Francisco Bay Area.

41

One recalls being beat up by a gang of African Americans while riding the bus through Bayview
Hunters Point:
I was robbed, assaulted, and knocked out while taking the Third Street bus home.
The perpetrators were African Americans. There were eight of them – five guys
and three girls. I was sitting in the back of the bus and they spit on me. And then
85

I grabbed one, and they all mobbed on me.

Growing up in the low-income neighborhood of San Francisco’s Visitacion Valley proved to be
an additionally trying period:
It was not a good area to hang around. When we came home, we were always
scared. We were always watching our backs coming home. It was not a happy
place as crime usually goes unreported. Robberies still occur. There was a purse
snatching in front of my house two months ago. During Chinese New Year, some
86

African Americans target people with red envelopes.

Such a negative experience led him to seek protection in San Francisco Chinatown since “We
were not going to be assaulted in Chinatown. We were not racialized.”
88

Chinatown presents an illusion of safety.

87

However, for others,

He recounts an altercation in Chinatown at the

Lincoln Recreational Center:
There was a fight that happened between an African and Vietnamese American
male on the basketball court. A hard foul became pushing and shoving. I do not
know at what point it escalated but the Vietnamese male grabbed a machete from
his friend and started swinging! The other guy was cut. Fortunately, it was not
89

critical or life threatening. That is the reality of Oakland.

42

The grim realities of Oakland are indeed real. Upon returning in the winter of 2009, I witnessed
an African American male rob an Asian male of his wallet in broad daylight throwing his
emptied wallet in the air while fleeing. The incident occurred right before the Lunar New Year
and speaks to the targeting of Chinese previously shared. The police responded shortly, due to
the fact that the police station is but a few city blocks away; however, such an occurrence speaks
to the larger volatile environment of Oakland and more importantly how Asians figure into the
equation of black and white racial politics.
The Model Minority: Asian Americans Caught In-between
There is a widely shared belief that Asian Americans not only have overcome the
bondage of racial discrimination, but also have become a successful model
minority worthy of emulation by other minorities. Asian Americans are said to be
better educated, to be earning as much as any group, to be well assimilated, and to
90

manifest low rates of social deviance.

Asian Americans are the model minority. Where I live in the Excelsior District of
San Francisco, I see a completely different reality. I see working class folks that
experience high levels of exploitation from their employers. I see recent
immigrants with no access. – Emcee Nomi

91

The concept of the model minority emerged during the Civil Rights Movement.

92

This concept

championed that Asian Americans as the model for other ethnic minorities to follow. This in
turn created a wedge of resentment to separate coalition building between non-white ethnic

43

minorities in particular African Americans. Lee (1996) writes, “the model minority stereotype
takes attention off the white majority by pitting Asian Americans against African Americans.”

93

Resultantly, Asian Americans became the model for other minorities to follow and according to
Tong (1996) the “ideal racial pets of white America.”

94

This section will discuss the effects of

the model minority myth on Asian Americans and how their engagement of hip-hop culture and
blackness poses challenges to the model minority concept.
The model minority myth upholds views of Asian Americans as a problem-free minority
and affects services devoted to their communities. The yearly re-application for federal monies
devoted to Asian American communities continually addresses notions of the model minority as
leverage for funding opportunities. For example, non-profit Asian American organizations
routinely address the model minority myth in order to secure funding and such a process speaks
to the power such perceptions hold on the entire Asian American population.

95

Some Asian Americans, however, perpetuate the model minority concept. Media
presentations of successful Asian Americans as classical musicians, math wizards, and financial
geniuses surely do not dispel this myth.
The pressure placed upon Asian American students to excel academically by their parents
combined with the perception of Asian Americans “equat[ing] academic achievement”
96

represents a double bind.

Underachieving students are looked upon as having a problem, and

resultantly, the model minority concept glosses the problem making it easy to ignore or
97

neglect.

Additionally, biology and racism heightens the model minority stereotype. Shankar

(2008) writes, “to say that Asian American students are successful merely because they are

44

98

racially categorized as Asian suggests a biological underpinning to success.”

Wu (2006)

writes:
The model minority myth reverses the causes of academic success. By
positioning that Asian Americans do well in school because of their Asianness, it
defines Asianness as doing well in school. Traits such as doing homework, which
are not inherently Asian, are commended as Asian as if race determined behavior.
A vicious cycle is set off, in this instance not wholly benign because the
expectations imposed on Asian American schoolchildren.

99

The tremendous pressure to succeed rooted in biological determinism therefore labels all Asian
Americans as academic success stories. Since the concept serves its means, there is little need
for institutions to question data regarding Asian Americans. Lee (2008) writes, “because
aggregate data on Asian Americans supports the stereotype, policymakers assume that Asian
Americans are all doing well.”

100

The perception that Asian Americans have achieved economic success in the face of
101

adversity fosters an uneasy relationship between Asians and blacks.

One does not have to

look further than the Los Angeles Uprisings to witness the wrath Koreatown suffered at the
hands of the disenfranchised. Omatsu (2007) writes:
For inner-city residents, the Asian immigrant becomes the target for their wrath
against corporate devastation of their neighborhoods. Moreover, as this symbol
merges with other historical stereotypes of Asians, the result is highly charged
imagery, which perhaps underlies the ferocity of anti-Asian violence in this
period, such as the destruction of Korean small businesses during the Los Angeles
uprisings. The Asian immigrant becomes a symbol of wealth-and also greed; a

45

symbol of hard work – and also materialism; a symbol of intelligence – and also
arrogance; a symbol of self-reliance – and also selfishness and lack of community
concern.

102

As Omatsu duly notes, Korean Americans, and by default, Asian Americans were targeted since
103

they were perceived to be “self serving” community outsiders and symbols of wealth.

Complications arise when Asian Americans live in low-income neighborhoods and open
businesses that are perceived as taking away economic opportunities and social services from
blacks. This tenuous relationship becomes compounded when the multiracial neighborhoods
comprised of Asian, African and Latino low-income residents live in close proximity to each
other and resentment fosters perceptions of economic inequity.
Asian Americans interviewed for this study challenge the model minority myth by
growing up in low-income neighborhoods that are predominately black and Latino. As a method
104

of survival many interviewees adopted black language and/or the gangster lifestyle.

A

number of interviewees described living in the low-income neighborhoods of San Francisco and
Oakland as “hella ghetto” (hell of a ghetto) in the slang of the Bay Area. One interviewee
described her East Oakland neighborhood:
There was not a Safeway to go to. We had to go to the liquor store for milk. We
had to walk everywhere. Everyone in our neighborhood did not have the means
to get around. Everyone was working two or three jobs. We did not feel safe.

105

Her description of “hella ghetto” carries connotations of blackness rooted in disenfranchisement
but also the multiracial composition of low-income East Oakland. She continues:
I went to an all black church and an all black preschool. Out a class of thirty,
there was me and this other Asian boy. [There was] nothing but Mexicans,

46

blacks, or super poor Asians or Southeast Asians – Vietnamese [in our
neighborhood]. Our Mexican neighbors would have parties and we would go
over there and listen to the music. Me, my mom, and dad would go since my dad
worked with a lot of Mexicans.

106

Her recollections of resettlement speak not only to the multiracial composition of East Oakland
but also to the newly arrived refugees from South East Asia namely Vietnamese, Cambodian,
107

and Hmong populations.

The harsh realities of growing up and living in urban environment leads many Asian
Americans to appropriate the gangster lifestyle and leads many to succumb to a life of crime.
Being wedged in-between often leads many Asian Americans to violent altercations at schools.
“Race wars” between African Americans and Asian Americans led one interviewee to take up
arms with his Chinese American peers:
People talk about gang banging. We carried weapons when we went to school.
Knifes, mace, butterfly knives, edged teeth knives, ninja stars, belt buckle knives,
brass knuckles, one even had a gun. We bought them Chinatown. We listened to
[rap] music that glorified the experience. That was the attraction. It represented
life. It was not always glamorous. You are poor. You try to make as best as you
can so you live or don’t get hurt. You always seek respect in some way.

108

The desire for respect in face of marginality and a perceived passivity ultimately leads many
Asian American youth to defend themselves in the face of adversity; such a reality is reflected in
popular music. For example, a music video by V-Unit for the song Got Beef (2006) features two
African American youth harassing a young Asian boy at a basketball court that leads to
retaliation. Vietnamese emcee Chuckie Akenz freely uses the word “nigga,” hangs with a

47

Vietnamese gang surrounded by women, import cars, and motorcycles. At the climax of the
video, the gang mobs the two African American assailants punctuated by sound of thunderous
gunshots.
Many interviewees expressed that they were drawn to hip-hop culture because of the
cultural similarities to between blacks and Asians growing up in low-income urban
environments. One interviewee argues:
Look at Oakland! Who are [Asians] growing up with? I did not grow up with no
white folks! I grew up with black folks and I am Asian. I culturally relate to
[blacks]. I am not black, you are not Asian, but I grew up in the same
neighborhood. I go to the liquor store to buy milk and bread. We don’t go to
Safeway or Trader Joes. We got to go to the corner store. I think that’s why we
109

tend to go towards hip-hop.

Being the proverbial product of the environment leads many Asian Americans to find solace in
hip-hop songs that reflect the reality of growing up in crime riddled low-income neighborhoods.
One interviewee shared his liking for Tupac Shakur’s “Life Goes On” (1996):
‘How many brothers fell from the street?’ – The lyrics remind me of the hard
knock life. It reflects what is going on in the environment. One of my friends
was shot and murdered. But it reminds me that he was part of a gang and he did
something that was not healthy. He fell from the streets. [The song] reflects the
sadness, the state that my friend was in and many of his family [were] in. It
shows the ‘nitty grittyness’ of life that we as poor immigrants [face] and the
110

situation[s] that we grew up in.

48

It is no surprise that many Asian American youth gravitate towards hip-hop culture because the
songs reflect their experiences. However, for some interviewees their affinity for hip-hop was
met with parental protest. One recalls his mother’s adverse reaction to hip-hop: “My mom did
not like it [because of the use of] foul language. But I loved it. She didn’t find it applicable, but
111

I liked it. We would repeat the lyrics, rap along, and get excited.”

Such an adverse reaction,

did not universally apply to all participants. One participant recalled receiving Master P’s MP
Da Last Don (1998) for her thirteenth birthday. Her affinity for gangster rap resonated with her
since they reflected her Oakland upbringing. She recalls a proliferation of “homie songs”
describing the practice of “pouring out a drink” when “they pass away” resembling the many
friendships she had growing up in Oakland.

112

Such songs erroneously described as

“glorifying” violence not only provide cautionary tales for listeners but also instill a sense of Bay
Area pride. A number of interviewees expressed being fans of a number of hip-hop artists
originating from the Bay Area: Too $hort, Richie Rich, E-40, 2Pac, M.C. Hammer, RBL Posse,
113

and Rappin 4-Tay.

One recalls being a fan of Rappin 4-Tay’s “Playaz Club” (1994) because

“it localizes everything: 3rd and Newcomb streets (in Bayview Hunters Point), along with
descriptions of San Francisco’s Fillmore district and shout outs to Oakland, Richmond, and
Vallejo.

114

He acknowledges not being African American, but “still hav[ing] a similar

experience growing up in those areas.”

115

Another interviewee concurs, that the affinity towards

Bay Area homegrown hip-hop artists reflects a sense of Bay Area pride: “It is very nice to say
growing up as a kid [that an artist] is from my hometown. Did you know M.C. Hammer is from
Oakland? There is this pride you have! That is why [we] gravitate towards hometown
people.”

116

Thus, for interviewees the gravitation towards hip-hop culture is two fold: on one

49

hand they are attracted to songs which reflect their urban upbringing while on the other they
support their local artists as an act of pride.
Filipino American youth emulating hip-hop culture are caught between differing sets of
expectations from community leaders. Growing up in the multiracial environment of the Bay
Area, Filipino youth adopt black “swagger” (speech and mannerisms) influenced by hip-hop
culture as a means of survival in low-income neighborhoods. However, this is often met with
protest from community leaders accusing them of mimicking blackness. Upon further
exploration, it was revealed that these older advocates had a problem with Filipino Americans
emulating African American culture in particular their adoption of black music and hip-hop
culture. One recounted addressing a collegiate Filipino American audience to “turn away from
the turntables and repeat after me, ‘I am not black and I will never be black.’”

117

Beneath this

discussion of mimicry is a thinly veiled distancing from blackness in favor whiteness, and
therefore acceptable forms of music. For example, the current singer of the rock band Journey,
Arnel Penada, has been lauded as a national treasure of the Philippines since he sings with such a
command of Steve Perry’s voice.
Given their precarious position as model minorities, Asian Americans adopt African
American speech, fashion, and music to legitimize their position as ethnic minorities and as a
result are oftentimes accused of mimicry. Due to high degree of invisibility in the mainstream
media, Asian Americans often adopt black cultural forms. Poet Thien-bao Thuc Phi writes,
“Other than white people African Americans are the most visible race in America, and Asian
118

Americans are the most invisible.”

The accusation of mimicry holds particular weight against

Filipinos and is resultantly perpetuated against celebrities of Filipino descent (i.e., Tia Carrere,
Prince, and Vanessa Hudgens) who mask their cultural heritage. One noted that Filipinos are

50

“everyone and no one” and points to a number of artists who are secretly Filipino but identified
by the press as other.

119

Another says, “Filipinos can imitate anything” but it is chiefly

dependent on “the job market” and Filipino fluency in English.

120

While another recounts a

period of time when Filipino artists were “copycats making money” by imitating popular music
trends.

121

However, such accusations were met by protest by some interviewees who’ve grown

tired of being accused of “trying to be black.”

122

One DJ noted:

What is the Asian music you expect my folks to listen to? They do not listen to
Yo Yo Ma! What do you expect, J-Pop (Japanese pop music)? My folks listen to
US pop music in one form or another and our traditional songs. So what is it that
you say that I should listen to that I should be feeling? The music that my people
like to dance to [is not constricted] some Filipino artist each time! It is ridiculous
to force someone’s identity into one construct.

123

His assertion led him to distance himself from many forms of nationalism he finds among
Filipino Americans. He believes such restrictive practices discourage people from “exploring
and becoming a part of another culture.”

124

Asian American hip-hop artists are subsequently accused of mimicry and such
accusations limit their success. Many older interviewees expressed that Asian Americans
gravitating towards hip-hop culture in the Bay Area is “unquestioned,” “unchallenged,” or
“clichéd” since Filipino American hip-hop artists are guaranteed a predominately Asian
American audience thereby creating a “comfort zone.”

125

Despite the relative comfort Asian

American hip-hop artists experience in the Bay Area, such success is rarely achieved on a
national level and is regulated by in large to metropolitan areas with high numbers of Asian

51

Pacific Islander populations. One interviewee noted, however, that the success of Filipino
American hip-hop artists is constrained by the glass ceiling:
Asian American artists can look up to the Roots, Mos Def and Common, but they
are only going to be right here. [She places her hand as if signifying a ceiling].
The general society is going to think Asian. They do not put Asian and rap
together. To them it is just black and white. And it is weird to me because what
makes a white person rap when they are so culturally different? What makes
them better than a Filipino guy that’s struggled with his life? Why can’t they rap
something and get paid for it? It has to do with society, acceptance, and how they
want to view Asians. Who else is out there right now?

126

She and many other interviewees extended this predicament to celebrities masking their Asian
heritage resulting in Asian Americans seeking representation in the media by “digging and
researching” ancestries.

127

She asserts that mixed Asians do not reveal their ancestries by
128

“hav[ing] their Asian flags around. They use a black or white flag first.”

Thus, Filipino

American hip-hop artists are regulated to a certain degree of success dictated by content thereby
marginalizing their offerings to a particular politicized audience. For example, Blue Scholars’
Bayani (2007) features two AK-47’s on the album’s cover as opposed to the more accessible
Black Eyed Peas whose themes are more palatable and safe despite efforts to pepper their
releases with the Filipino American epic “Bebot” (2006) and the Veteranos focused “The Apl
129

Song” (2004) to mainstream audiences.
Conclusion

52

This is for all my Asian American brothers and sisters, wishing you a happy
130

Asian American history month. – Chuck D

Blackness holds a substantial alluring amount of power over Asian American youth through the
guise of hip-hop. For youth growing up in low-income communities, hip-hop reflects as noted
131

the “nitty grittiness of life.”

It also serves as a display of power – a power that is an alluring

alternative to the image of the docile and passive model minority. What is more intriguing is the
cross-cultural collaborations and frictions between Asian Americans and African Americans in
times of civil unrest.
On New Year’s Day, 2009, Oscar Grant, a young African American male was
apprehended by Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) police officers, thrown to the ground, shot in
the back, and killed. The grievous act was captured on cellphone cameras and later broadcasted
throughout the Bay Area that sparked outrage and resulted in two nights of rioting. The civil
unrest following the killing was presented as a black uprising glossing over the multiethnic
composition of the rioters. Asian American youth took part of the protests; however, media
coverage would claim otherwise despite numerous photos proving the multiethnic composition
of the uprisings. During the second night of unrest, I witnessed a multiracial collective of youth
protesting in front of Oakland’s city hall calling for peace. Soon after I left, the youth took over
Broadway. Following protests at Fruitvale BART station resulted in cases of police brutality
directed against a number of my Asian American former students and colleagues.
The announcement of the verdict on July, 8, 2010 of involuntary manslaughter inspired a
number of responses on part of the city of Oakland to keep the peace. Mayor Ron Dellums
arranged a band and a DJ to play at the steps of City Hall that was meagerly attended. Most took
to the streets of downtown closing down a number of city blocks between 12th and 14th and
53

Broadway and that later erupted in looting and destruction of stores. I, too, attempted to keep the
peace by DJ-ing in San Francisco by playing roots conscious reggae tunes that spoke to the
injustice committed by the legal system.
Later that evening, after DJ-ing, I had a conversation with two white urban professionals
sitting at the bar. They were complaining about the rioting that occurred, unaware that a flier
detailing the killing of Oscar Grant affixed to the DJ booth watched over us. The couple
exonerated the crimes of the white police officer, Johannes Mehserle, claiming an “obvious
accident” was turned into a bigger incident because of the “race card.” Thus, I was caught inbetween, cast as an honorary white, not expected to be an ally to a deceased black man and a
perceived black social movement. Ultimately, my experience that evening speaks to the larger
issue of Asian American identity politics within the black and white binary. Elaine Kim (2006)
writes:
In many ways, Asian Americans are positioned on the in-between-on the cusp, at
the interstice, in the buffer zone-of Asia and America, between black and white,
between old-timer and newcomer, between mainstreamed and marginalized. Yet
the in-between is a precarious and dangerous position to occupy if we are not
fully cognizant of where we are and what our position means in the larger picture.
Armed with that cognizance, we have the potential to participate creatively and
132

courageously in shaping of the social, political, and cultural environment.

Indeed, my actions earlier that evening in Oakland and later that night in San Francisco, speak to
the amount of courage and energy necessary to address social injustices. However, my
discussion with the white urbanites suggests a pinning between black and white, which in turn
marginalizes Asian American voices. Kim continues:

54

What seems to infuriate some people the most is thought of an un-ungrateful
Asian American siding with other people of color, presumably against whites.
They want to hold onto their notion of Asian Americans as docile honorary white
people whose very existence proves that other people of color are lazy and stupid
133

and that racism does not exist in U.S. society.

Knowing my “honorary white” status, I did not engage the white patrons, but rather ended the
conversation abruptly. Looking at the Oscar Grant flier, my heart sank. Playing tunes
previously in an effort to “keep the peace,” such precautionary measures took on a new meaning
when catapulted into conversation regarding Oscar Grant. In the end, I was, as many Asian
Americans are, caught in-between.

55

Chapter Three: “We Are Family:” the Asian American DJ Scene
During the 1980s and throughout the 1990s, Asian American mobile DJ crews became a
common fixture at gatherings of peoples of Asian Pacific Islander descent in the Bay Area and
134

Los Angeles.

Within these gatherings the importance of the family unit was undeniable. In

the late 1990s, for instance, I attended a number of parties at the “430 house” (a home rented by
Filipino American Academy of Art students) in Daly City. Before such parties, friends and I
would walk to the local supermarket to buy food and beverages. After preparations were
finished, partygoers played the drum set in the garage while a scratch DJ performed his turntable
skills. As the night progressed, a number of DJs took turns on the turntables throughout the
house: in bedrooms, the garage and the living room with additional equipment brought by
visiting DJs. Mimicking the three tiered club environments of San Francisco, DJs specialized in
different musical styles dictated by the collections brought: in one room one would hear jungle,
another hip-hop while in another, house music. The aforementioned informal dance parties were
known as “house parties” and knowledge of these events passed through word of mouth and
insured an intimate crowd and a safe environment. House party DJs usually went on to become
professional DJs or turntablists spinning at local venues and/or producing albums.
The support network of DJs of Asian Pacific Islander descent demonstrates that these DJs
implement survival strategies collectively in order to further their careers. Asians in America
have a long history of pooling their resources together collectively in order to survive in the US.
In the case of the Chinese, many male migrants falsified documents in order to gain entry into
the U.S. as “Paper Sons” since they were denied the right to form families, naturalize, and/or
immigrate.

135

Gerstel and Sarkisian (2008) caution that such “fictive kin” networks should not

be “glorified;” however, the role such networks play in Bay Area DJ culture speaks to the
56

resourcefulness of Asian American DJs that collectively pull their finances together in order to
obtain equipment, hold events, and form crews.

136

In this chapter, I examine how identity politics figures into the careers of Asian American
DJs through the collection of oral histories culled from participating and observing the DJ scene.
In addition, a number of releases by Asian American DJs will be analyzed to highlight how
ethnicity impacts their releases. This chapter reveals how ethnicity influences Asian American
DJs in the following ways: First, I will document the rise of mobile DJ units in the Bay Area by
investigating influences and supportive familial networks that led to their ultimate success.
Second, I will explore how Asian American DJ crews strategically employ ethnicity in their
releases. Lastly, this chapter aims to interrogate the utility of the term “Asian American” as it
applies to DJ culture.

The Cultural Influences and Support Systems of Asian American DJs

In this section, I will reveal the influences and support networks that fostered the careers of
aspiring Asian American DJs in order to show how the family network played an integral role in
their success. I will do this in two ways: first by highlighting the influence of radio and its effect
on shaping the identity of aspiring DJs; second by exploring how the use of equipment and
familial spaces provided the foundation for future success of DJs.
Many interviewees expressed the importance of radio as the primary influence on their
decision to become DJs. Some participants recall following the topforty charts as a formative
experience that led some to record broadcasts to cassette by utilizing double cassette decks to

57

construct mix tapes. Cassette mixes afforded DJs the opportunity to make satisfactory mixes
without a mixer or turntables.
Making mixes outside of the bedroom, however, hinged upon using legitimate gear
including turntables and a mixer. Keyes (2002) writes, “[t]he preferred turntables are the
137

Technics SL-1200 because of their pitch-control capability and action-stability control.”

These turntables referred to as the “1200s” or “Tech 12s” cost several hundred dollars and their
prohibitive price influenced many to pool their finances collectively to afford the coveted gear.
Those who could not afford 1200s bought used turntables and mixers at local flea markets, thrift
stores, and/or received gear handed down from their relatives. One participant recalls her
cousins’ DJ unit:
They would spin on the weekends. Sometimes they would bring their DJ
equipment to our house and just play records with whatever collections they had
in their crates. Two of my cousins were really into it. Then the eldest went into
the army and gave all his equipment to the other guy. He was doing it on the side
with all his friends. He lived in Fremont. I do not know what happened to the
equipment. I think it went to some other cousin.

138

While some DJs benefited from the handed down of equipment from familial ties, some
participants were not as fortunate and had to utilize second-rate gear and/or gear that was
available at parties. This practice is often referred to as “dirt style” (see Figure 1). One DJ
recalls the experience:
We were doing it dirt style. We would turn up at parties and ask if they had
turntables and they would say ‘yes.’ We would show up and it’s their mom’s
turntable and a cassette player! There were gigs like that. It made me realize that

58

that is how a lot of folks were starting out – learning more of the genesis of hiphop in Jamaica. The emcee became important when the DJ would flip the
record.

139

Doing it “dirt style” involved practicing for hours on second-rate equipment seasoning aspiring
DJs but also honing their skills for the eventual purchase of 1200s.
A number of interviewees recalled having DJ mobile units as part of their extended
family and they would often hold parties at family events, school dances, garages, and/or
abandoned warehouses. Many participants recall converting their garages into makeshift discos
to “attract girls” and these small events were a precursor to full-scale parties.

140

One participant

recalls routinely opening park gymnasiums for DJs to practice that led to events being held in
Saint Augustine Church to a predominately Filipino crowd. This sizable market led an outsider,
a gay Puerto Rican, to hold events called Imagine to cater to the Filipino audience. One recounts
the story of Imagine, “He was this rich, Puerto Rican, gay guy, who loved Filipinos. He threw
these big events and everybody was pretty much Filipino – you know, DJ battles, Christmas
battles, and breakdance crew battles. It was the time of performers.”

141

Imagine’s success was

primarily due to having an age requirement of sixteen and up for his events, since youth under
the age of eighteen and/or twenty one were restricted from attending most night clubs.
Support of DJ culture, however, was not necessarily universal. One DJ recounted his
parents’ preference for classical music as stifling: “At that time we would talk about the
misunderstanding of our parents, because at that time parents listened to classical since they
142

grew up on it on the Philippines. We wanted to be as far away from that as we could.”

This led many aspiring DJs to raid their parents’ classical collections to utilize them into DJ
mixes.

143

This proved to be highly ironic because the parental objects of sophistication were
59

integrated into DJ mixes adding social commentary on the parental disapproval of hip-hop
culture.
As warehouse parties and later raves became popular in the mid to late 1980s, Filipino
youth who’ve already established themselves as DJs joined the burgeoning scene. The primary
reason for the rise of such parties was that many nightclubs enforced restrictive age
144

requirements.

One participant recalls how these illegal parties took place:

Kids came up with this idea, since Carson is a poor community, of breaking into a
warehouse and just taking over. One time they took over this run down
warehouse near a freeway. It was strangest people – glam rock guys, people
wearing parachute pants, baggy pants, and lowriders. Everybody got along.

145

Inside warehouse parties a generator powered lights and music equipment with a band playing on
one side of the space while a DJ on the other. This practice continued until the authorities shut it
146

down within a month because the “sheriff found out and raided it.”

The success of the aforementioned parties hinged upon the reputation of the DJ.
One recalls his diverse musical palate as an influencing factor in his rise to prominence:
I was emerging as a selector at parties. People found that I could pick the records
at rock parties. I would pick the Beatles, Rolling Stones, throw in some Motown
and Talking Heads to keep it going. At the time, I did not know how to juggle
records. I just knew what flowed. I got a reputation throughout high school that I
147

could dig through the records and pull things out.

Musical knowledge was deciding factor in the success of a party and oftentimes resulted in
peculiar mixes on the dance-floor. One recalls the intermingling of subcultures:

60

[At] high school dances we would have [dance] circles [transforming into] Soul
Train dances. It would evolve into weird things. There was a common music that
everyone liked: ‘Little Red Corvette’ by Prince, Michael Jackson, and Culture
Club. You would see breakers, pop and lockers, glam rockers, and everyone
148

dancing. When the pop guys sang it would be this common thing.

The intermingling of subcultures is significant because the segregation of nightclubs by musical
taste subsequently became the norm in the late 1980s and 1990s. For example, the popular San
Francisco nightclub DV8 featured three floors of differing music: hip-hop, house, and rave.
Some house parties replicated this format by having multiple rooms with DJs specializing in
particular genres.
By the early 1990s, Asian Pacific Islander DJ crews started to gain prominence and
recognition from audiences beyond the Bay Area. Without a strong familial framework and
close-knit network to facilitate their endeavors, it is hard to imagine their subsequent successes.
More importantly, the success of DJ crews highlights the resourcefulness and resiliency of Asian
Pacific Islanders carving out their space collectively within the larger hip-hop community.
ISP and the Muting of Race and Ethnicity
In 1992, a local hip-hop show, Home Turf, televised footage of the world’s first DJ band FM20
across the Bay Area.

149

The footage featured DJs Qbert, Mix Master Mike, and Apollo three

DJs of Filipino ancestry. FM20 soon became the Rock Steady DJs and later Invisibl Skratch
Piklz (ISP). The footage is striking because it captures the multiracial makeup of Bay Area hiphop culture particularly artists of Filipino descent. Indeed, the crew’s ethnicity played a role in
the hiring of FM20 for a number of Asian American community events.

61

What preceded ISP’s rise to fame, however, was a curious muting of their ethnic
backgrounds.

150

In other words, ISP did not market themselves as Filipino American DJs, but

rather as the penultimate DJ crew that refused to have their releases be defined by their
ethnicities. In this section, I am interested in how DJs of Asian Pacific Islander ancestry
negotiated ethnicity through performance and marketing. By analyzing video and releases made
by ISP, the Beat Junkies and DJ Qbert, I hope to shed light on how the aforementioned artists
diverted attentions from their ethnicities onto their DJ-ing skills.
The initial success of ISP hinged upon the utilization of a supportive network through
mobile DJ units. As the previous section revealed, DJs throughout the Bay Area and Los
Angeles held dances and parties at a variety of venues that provided a solid foundation for their
subsequent success. Once they achieved a degree of popularity, DJs began to hold residencies at
a number of nightclubs showcasing their turntable techniques a practice that Keyes (2002) refers
to as “turntablism.”

151

ISP’s notoriety among Asian American circles led many to support their performances.
One participant recalls their performances as revelatory and cites that their events felt as though
she was “hanging out at her cousin’s house” while attending “fiestas back home” in southern
California.

152

ISP’s sound resonated with her because, she identified with how the group

constructed music by “pulling bits and pieces” from a variety of sources that were representative
of her Filipino American identity.

153

Claiming one’s cultural heritage, however, did not necessarily apply to the DJs in the
politically charged environment of California in the 1990s. Throughout the 1990s, voter
initiatives passed anti-immigration legislation such as Proposition 127, 209, and 227.

154

Simultaneously, hip-hop originating from California’s inner cities such as Oakland, San
62

Francisco, and Los Angeles reflected the racial politics through the perspectives of
disenfranchised black and Latino men. Thus, Asian Americans hip-hop artists challenged racial
expectations and such artists were often met with suspicion. DJs, however, circumvented the
expectations of emcee-ing in favor of turntable skills that relied less on vocal prowess.
Pursuing DJ-ing was no easier and many note that they had to prove themselves not only
within hip-hop circles but also the community at large. According to an interview of DJ
Rhettmatic of the Beat Junkies, he had to “work tens times as hard” in the face of negative
perceptions from Asian American community members and the larger hip-hop community.

155

He continued by stating that he is a “hip-hop head that happens to be Filipino.” Likewise, some
participants of this study noted that Qbert’s ethnicity did not play a factor in their support of the
artist. One participant claimed, “Qbert did not proclaim that he is Filipino, but he is the best at
what he does. Everyone knows it. You did not like him because he is Filipino. You like him
because he is the best, no matter what! There is no argument about it.”

156

Such statements

reflect the cultural capital many Filipino American DJs cultivate to gain entry and respect within
the larger hip-hop community.

157

Once ISP achieved their hard earned success by winning multiple championships, the
crew released a number of albums that either marketed or masked their ethnicities. For example,
ISP’s initial releases on Dirt Style Records during the early 1990s featured a continued emphasis
on hip-hop inspired graffiti artwork from artists of Asian Pacific Islander descent (i.e, Dream,
Spie, and Pak 1) and this trend continued until the release of Invisbl Skratch Piklz vs. Da Klams
Uv Deth (1996). The album features a chopstick like font announcing the title of the album
under which a number of anime-inspired robots stand in formation. The crew’s faces are
featured prominently on the reverse cover. This release was followed by DJ Flare’s Dirtstyle

63

Deluxe Shampoo Edition (1997) the cover of which features a number of humorous photos of
people of Asian Pacific Islander descent wearing a variety of masks. This tradition continued
and is evident in a number of future ISP releases such as the five volumes of the Shiggar
Fraggar series (1998-2000) and Buck Tooth Wizardz (1997). Although the humor and science
fiction-like inspirations are evident an alternative reading suggests that the crew was distancing
itself from their cultural heritages in an attempt to market themselves based on skill rather than
ethnicity. Once their international fame was achieved their identities became more apparent and
the usage of masks lessened. For example, Qbert’s release Wave Twisters (1998) features the DJ
wearing hypnotic shades rather than a mask. When ISP’s Mix Master Mike became the DJ for
the Beastie Boys, he was suddenly propelled into the mainstream spotlight. Other members of
ISP followed suit by revealing their identities without masks. Soon, ISP disbanded, and Qbert
relocated to Hawaii, developed the mixer and turntable (the QFO) for Vestax; recently, he toured
158

the Philippines.

Qbert’s career after the breakup of ISP continues the masking of ethnicity and a number
of interviews online and in print attests to this. DJ Revolution’s interview with Qbert for the
Cut (2011) reveals the DJ’s thoughts on ethnicity:
I never really thought of it as a Filipino thing. As an artist you are just making
music for everybody. I wasn’t doing it as a Filipino thing or an Asian thing. It
was just art. In Daly City there was a ton of Filipino DJs. I just thought it was
just normal to be a DJ. But there are Latin DJs, black DJs, white DJs – you know
Frisco is a melting pot…over here everyone is mixed, so it doesn’t matter. There
is a lot of Asians but they were probably afraid…I was oblivious to it…like I
wasn’t supposed to be there, but I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to be there!

64

159

The DJ’s obliviousness to the issues of race and ethnicity within the highly competitive culture
of DJ-ing indicates how such identities are less of an issue within the Bay Area hip-hop scene
but may hold more weight upon competing elsewhere.
Qbert’s obsession with science fiction influences his spirituality and highlights his
disengagement from the issues of race and ethnicity within hip-hop culture. Qbert is often
described as an “extraterrestrial being” and he claims his primary motivation is aliens: “Since
[E]arth is kinda like a primitive planet, what about the more advanced civilizations? How does
their music sound? So, I would imagine whatever they’re doing and I guess that is how I come
160

up with ideas.”

He also looks to outer space for influences:

Sometimes I even look for influences in outer space. It’s definitely gotten me
some crazy theories about life…I used to check the net for guys who had been
abducted and had been to outer space and gotten to hear what music sounds like
on other planets. I never heard anything but I have learned a lot about advanced
civilizations on different planets. The really advanced races are all about love and
their lives are about helping each other. It got me to be very spiritual and it got
me in a very spiritual mindset.

161

His “spiritual mindset” is found throughout a number of subsequent interviews. For example, an
interview with Sucker Punch TV (2011) features the DJ arguing against cultural separatism by
claiming that the “universe is one energy.”

162

He reiterates these views in an interview with

Womp TV (2011) by stating that “everything is God” and that “everything is one energy.”

163

Qbert continues saying that life is “temporary” and is akin to living “life as a character in a video
game.”

164

His sci-fi animated film Wave Twisters (2001) reinforces such statements and is
65

acknowledged as the first musical to feature music entirely composed by turntables. The cover
of the film is inspired by Activision’s Atari 2600 video game cartridge Pitfall! (1982) and
Qbert’s recent contributions to DJ Hero 2 (2010) continues the DJ’s video game obsession.

165

Despite the DJ’s distancing from race and ethnicity, people of Asian Pacific Islander
descent have embraced Qbert as a celebrity. For example, Filipinos in the Philippines have
166

embraced Qbert by inviting him to tour Manila.
recently plaster casted his hands.

167

In addition, a Filipino American artist

Qbert also has participated in concerts that cater to Asian

American audiences. For example, he has recently performed in a concert with Asian American
musicians Mochipet, Joyo Velarde, and Lyrics Born in 2008. Furthermore, both Qbert’s
Demolition Pumpkin Squeeze Musik (1994) and Buck Tooth Wizardz (1997) were distributed by
Japanese independent hip-hop labels and sold in the U.S. as costly imports. Such releases infers
that the DJ cultivated a large fan-base in Japan.
For some Filipino American fans of ISP their sound was uniquely Filipino and this in
turn may have influenced the crew’s masking of their heritages. One interviewee asserted that
there is a connection between ISP’s turntablism and indigenous Filipino gamelan
(kulingtang).

168

However, ISP distanced themselves from their cultural backgrounds on many of

their releases. In this sense defining their work as culturally Filipino limited marketing potential
in a genre obsessed with ancestry and authenticity. In this sense ISP kept it real by masking their
identities and let the product and their awards speak for themselves.
Going Global: Frictions and Collaborations within Pan-Asian DJ Alliances
Popular culture from Asia and the Pacific influenced American and European tastes throughout
the 1990s. Referred to as “Indo-Chic” in the United Kingdom and “Asian-Chic” in the United

66

States both terms highlight issues of cultural appropriation and Orientalism.

169

Although the

term functions as a derogatory term to describe the West’s fascination with the East, I argue that
the “Asian Chic” also applies to Asian Americans exploring their roots through the consumption
of popular culture.

170

“Asian Chic” and DJ culture were intertwined during the 1990s in the Bay Area and this
period was marked by a number of turntablists from and/or having ancestral ties to Asia and the
Pacific. I distinctly recall attending concerts by Japanese DJ Krush and the ISP within the same
year as an act of showing support for Asian and Asian American hip-hop artists. This act of
support is often cited as a homogenizing force, however, such a critique overlooks how the term
can be employed strategically as an act of allegiance between DJs of Asian Pacific Islander
171

ancestry.

In this section, I will explore how ethnicity and nationality shape the identities of

DJs of Asian Pacific Islander descent through my own personal alliances with DJs. In doing so,
I hope to illuminate the possibilities for forging new Asian American identities.
The success of a DJ hinges upon being part of a collective, crew or a group. For
example, Qbert’s success stems from his belonging to FM20, Rock Steady DJs and later ISP.
Such crews set the blueprint for aspiring DJs to form alliances and I followed suit by forming a
partnership with a Japanese DJ and producer Whizkey. We had met each other through an Asian
Pacific Islander designer group called @430 at the Academy of Art, San Francisco. Recognizing
our affinity for a similar sound, we soon began sharing our record finds, but soon realized we
were having a common experience in record stores.
During the 1990s, Japanese international students routinely bought records to ship back
to Japan.

172

These buyers often had to resort to selling records since many did not have visas to

work within the United States. Those who shipped records back to Japan made a profit since the

67

yen was stronger than the dollar. These “hard-core aficionados” were known as “otakus” and
these buyers sent shockwaves throughout the record buying public and made collecting highly
173

competitive.

DJs of Asian Pacific Islander descent were misidentified as either Japanese buyers and/or
as local DJ heroes while digging for records. Asian American DJs were often thought of as
Japanese buyers and often treated with disdain, suspicion, and/or outright discrimination by
sellers. Alternatively, I have been mistaken for a member of ISP while record hunting. Such
instances mark the often tenuous relationships between Asian ethnics within the larger Asian and
Asian American category. For example, one DJ recounts Japanese women asking him his
ethnicity after his set. After telling the women, he was Filipino, they recoiled revealing
prejudiced attitudes held by some Japanese against those from the Philippines.

174

Given our common experiences as outsiders within the larger record collecting
community, Whizkey and I were wary of stressing our ethnicity, so we chose to emphasize our
DJ skills and our affinity for reggae music. The DJ recalled his fondness for the genre:
For me I was looking at reggae from an outsider view because I grew up in Japan.
So I did not make connection as reggae as Rasta music. So I have appreciation
for how it evolved in England after Jamaican immigrants moved over there and
created Lovers Rock. So people like Adrian Sherwood, Massive Attack and the
Bristol collective scene fuse punk, funk, dub and new wave into one music style.
That was more [of a] natural progression.

175

The DJ’s retelling of the path reggae music followed from Jamaica to the UK displays how the
music morphed into new genres under the influence of external influences. Furthermore, he
notes that the reggae lifestyle manifests itself differently depending upon one’s location:

68

So Santa Cruz people connect reggae with dreadlocks. Logically and religiously,
I do not [think] white dreads exist! Maybe there is a similarity in hippie culture
that really remains strong in California, so those [are the] types of things you seeWhite people in hemp clothes they wear[ing] dreadlocks listening to Bob Marley
and Rasta music. Whereas England people have a baldhead but they listen to ska
and dub.

176

His insights are significant because they highlight how music manifests differently depending on
its location.
Nationality and ethnicity, however, played a significant role while DJ-ing despite our
attempts to disengage from the identifiers. At our first gig together, I recall mixing reggae and
UK hip-hop along with jazz. While mixing numerous danceable jazz tracks from the CTI label,
two Japanese women stood before us as Whizkey adjusting the levels and as I mixed the vinyl.
Their observation of our performance was flattering, but nevertheless I could not shake thinking
about ideas ethnicity and nationality all while mixing. A year before hand, I had attended a
concert by Japanese DJ Krush as an act of pan-Asian solidarity. Now, I found myself not only
DJ-ing with a Japanese DJ but also being watched by Japanese fans.
The turntablism craze officially came to an end when ISP disbanded in 2000. Chennault
(2005) writes,
In the hyperkinetic world of hip hop, fortunes are won and lost, trends rise and
fall, and careers wax and wane in what seems like the blink of an eye. Five years
is a lifetime, and it's been nearly that long since the demise of what we once
called turntablism – today the term is passé, taboo, a cliché that most DJs would
177

rather distance themselves from.

69

As a result, there were fewer gigs and DJ culture in the Bay Area became stagnant. By the mid2000s, however, a number of nostalgic DJs attempted to resurrect the scene through forays into
music production. Whizkey managed to press a 45rpm single combining hip-hop beats with a
bassline sample of Sister Nancy’s dancehall hit “Bam Bam” (1993). The single “Desolation
Dub” (2003) featured prominently during our reunion as DJ partners from 2009-2010. On one
occasion, I played the extended version of “Ghost Town” by the Specials (1981) followed by a
contemporary Jah Screehie remix that sampled Andrea True Connection’s “More, More, More”
(1975). A short, petite woman, dressed in black approached the turntables, leaned over and
asked, “what kind of music is this?” in a thick Eastern European accent. Although, I answered,
“dub,” upon reflection should I have answered “Asian American,” “Jamaican,” or simply “ours”
Conclusion
We’re lost in music
We’re caught in a trap – Sister Sledge
It was a balmy September afternoon, in Westminster, California, as two fellow DJs and I pulled
178

into the gridlocked parking lot of a Vietnamese strip-mall in Little Saigon.

Hungry and

homesick, I let out a sigh of relief to be around so many people of Asian descent and their
businesses. While drinking Café Sau Da (Vietnamese iced-coffee) and eating spring rolls, my
friend shared her migration story of being “dumped off” in Westminster and her subsequent
responsibility as a translator for her parents.

179

She recalls hanging out at the very same strip-

mall as a newly arrived refugee watching the “Crunchies” – Vietnamese girls with death defying
aerosol-ed hairdos and their tough boyfriends loitering in the parking lot while Freestyle and Hi-

70

NRG music blasted from their cars – the first sounds she heard in America.

180

She acquired a

fondness for that sound and argued that it is in her blood and this is the reason why she DJs. Her
evocative comment served as reminder of a similar claim from another participant who likened
the turntable techniques of ISP being rooted in biology: “That instrument [the Technics 1200] is
a part of them [ISP] just like the saxophone was a part of [Charlie] Parker and the horn was a
part of Miles [Davis]. If [hip-hop] is going to evolve it needs to come up with something
181

new.”

Those who claim that the success of Asian American DJ’s are rooted in biology do so

because they fear that the music they purchase, produce, and perform will be taken away from
them. For example, an interview with DJ Fresh by the San Francisco Bayview (2009) revealed
182

the black DJ’s dismissal of DJ-ing being a “Filipino Phenomenon” by calling it “bullshit.”

Such a reaction highlights the on-going battle of legitimacy for Asian American DJs despite the
successes of ISP, the Beat Junkies, and Qbert. On numerous occasions, I have encountered
Filipino Americans declaring that is DJ-ing “is in their blood.” I have interpreted this as a
response to those who consider Filipino American involvement in DJ culture as being suspect.
Thus, it is no surprise that some Asian Americans fans and DJs have linked their successes as
being biologically predetermined.
DJs of Asian Pacific Islander descent of the Bay Area and Los Angeles have a long
history of establishing crews that are aided by family networks and the utilization of existing
spaces to hold events. The inventive use of space was made clear as I was whisked away to the
restaurant where I met Akaida, a Japanese American DJ. I helped set up the turntables, speakers,
and found a table suitable enough for our gig. During our sets an elder of the Vietnamese bride
came up to us and remarked, “I usually do not like this music, but I like how you two are mixing

71

it!” Soon the dance-floor filled with dancers of all ages. While spinning my set, a young male
of the bride asked for the names of selections while filing through my records.
An investigation of DJ culture among Asian Americans reveals the continued interplay of
family, ethnicity and nationality. Gear has been handed down from generation to generation, and
those lacking capital “do it dirt style” until proper equipment is acquired. In the past, those who
have chosen to pursue DJ-ing and turntablism have met opposition from the larger Asian
American and the greater hip-hop community. As a result, these DJs employ their ethnicities
strategically and in some cases mask their identities in order to redirect focus on their turntable
skills. The proliferation of DJs of Asian Pacific Islander descent on a domestic and global scale
affected their experiences during record collecting and/or during performances as a case of
ethnic misidentification. Although such occurrences highlight the shortcomings of the term
“Asian American,” common interests rooted in musical taste bring about idealized pan-Asian
unions breaking through the barrier of music as being a “trap” but rather as an escape from the
reality of constant legitimization. “People in the United States are lost,” said Whizkey and music
serves as the catalyst to find themselves.

183

72

Chapter Four: Getting Up: Asian Americans Graffiti Artists Claiming Space
During the mid-1980s and 1990s a burgeoning graffiti scene flourished throughout the Bay Area
and within this scene many Asian American graffiti artists rose to prominence. Artists within the
“graf” scene referred to each other as “writers.” Influenced by hip-hop films and graffiti books,
these writers purchased markers, spray paints, and scrapbooks to master their craft by creating
tags and pieces and by collectively organizing as crews. Often crews were built upon a shared
dissatisfaction with the status quo and this led many Asian American writers to form bounds
with fellow Asian Pacific Islanders. TDK (Those Damn Kids), for instance, represented a crew
that was predominately Asian American and its membership included Dream, Pak 1, and
Spie.

184

Graffiti became the ideal option for many Asian American youth to participate in hip-hop
culture since prevailing attitudes about hip-hop restricted their initial success as emcees and DJs.
One participant recalled how prevalent graffiti culture became among Filipino Americans:
The graffiti artists were there. You knew who they were. But it became more so
in high school with graffiti. The tagging started coming up in 1985 and 1986 and
graffiti art you saw more since everyone was tagging on the buses. Students who
were graffiti artists, you would see it on their backpacks. They would also carry
their own sketchbooks.

185

Graffiti’s popularity among Filipino Americans led many to become recognized within the youth
culture. For example, Crayone was featured in the pioneering graffiti book Spraycan Art (1987)
and his artwork influenced the subsequent generation of Asian American writers. I recall
purchasing the aforementioned text because its cover featured a graffiti caricature of an Asian
youth with a spray can. The collection resonated with me at the time since many of my peers
73

were involved in graffiti culture.
I propelled myself into the “graf” scene during the mid-1990s while living in San
Francisco’s Chinatown and the experience showed me how the authorities disproportionately
target certain communities.

186

After multiple run-ins with the police, I opted out of the scene
187

when graffiti became a felony.

Twelve years later, I found myself within the scene again

only this time as an ethnographer. I documented the completion of a commissioned mural in the
Mission District only to be apprehended by the police for not paying a bus fare while the artist
and I boarded the bus. I was surrounded by five police officers that questioned the contents of
my knap sack: multiple markers and a sketchbook. After repeated questioning of the legality of
my belongings, I was fined one hundred and seventy five dollars.
Such recollections highlight how integral Asian American writers are a part of the graffiti
scene of the Bay Area. This chapter investigates the identities of Asian American writers in a
culture that thrives on the tenuous and often contradictory expectations of fame, anonymity, and
authenticity. I hope to reveal the trajectory of graffiti artists of Asian Pacific Islander descent
from the underground to the mainstream by showcasing the careers of Dream and Twist to
highlight the effects and constraints of fame and notoriety and its resultant impact on graffiti
culture.
Anonymity, Identity, and Asian American Writers
Space [is a] influential factor in contemporary culture…power and authority are
uneasily distributed throughout society, with space emerging as one important
vector among many for the expressions of dominant-subordinate relations within
the hegemonic order.

188

74

Writing wouldn’t be writing if it wasn’t illegal. It gotta be illegal. – Dream

189

The anonymity of graffiti culture allowed writers of Asian Pacific Islander descent to excel and
establish themselves as artists. McDonald (2005) notes that graffiti culture provides an amount
of anonymity for writers since the other outlets of hip-hop expression (DJ-ing, emcee-ing, and
breakdancing) thrive on performance.

190

While this may be the case, however, it overlooks the

pressure within graffiti culture to become famous. Lewisohn writes, “[f]ame is the name of the
game in graffiti writing.”

191

Thus, to ensure a writer’s popularity, one has to “get up” or tag as

many areas as possible to become visible within the hip-hop culture and the public at large. As
the scene progressed into the 1990s, this included writers scaling structures to “throw up” quick
two-color “dubs” or complicated multicolored “pieces” (also known as “burners”) onto the top of
buildings.

192

In this section, I will analyze the careers and work of two writers – Dream and

Twist – and how the experience of each writer reveals how the anonymity of graffiti culture
affected their identities in different ways.
Asian American writers were largely unknown since the scene’s strict code of anonymity
that restricted knowledge of their identities to the select few. For example, Dream, a Filipino
American artist from TDK and the West Oakland hip-hop collective Hobo Junction created
works for Capital Tax’s single “I Can’t Believe It” (1993) and Saafir’s Boxcar Sessions (1994)
the later featuring two train car length piece of the album’s name. Only those within hip-hop
circles knew Dream’s identity and such a tight-knit community supported their talented artists.
For example, the Invisibl Skratch Piklz (ISP) featured Dream and his TDK partners Pak 1 and
Spie on a number of releases on the Dirt Style Records imprint. The utilization of graffiti pieces

75

by TDK to sell releases represented an authentic alternative to the mainstream gangster posturing
that was pervasive throughout the rap industry of the early 1990s.
While the insular nature of Bay Area’s hip-hop community protected the identities of its
writers, artist galleries propelled them into the forefront raising questions regarding authenticity.
For example, Barry McGee, also known as Twist, was the most popular and recognized graffiti
artist during the 1990s. Like Futura 2000, Keith Haring, and Jean Michel Basquiat before him,
his pieces were featured in galleries and soon became popular.

193

Although Twist continued to

create illegal pieces while being shown in galleries, his street credibility diminished, as he
became a more mainstream artist. In addition, Twist sparked controversy with his shoe design
for Adidas (2006) that featured a caricature of a young Asian boy as buck toothed with slanted
eyes called the Ray Fong and also for courting a corporate contract.
Twist and Dream’s careers highlight the divergent paths graffiti artists take – corporate or
community based – and reflect the larger expectations placed on writers to remain authentic. As
graffiti culture became commonplace by the late 1990s, writers soon found themselves in a
position to make a profit. For Twist, his gallery showings increased his global exposure and
recognition ultimately led to his contract with Adidas. For Dream, the community-minded
writer, his path was restricted to Bay Area hip-hop artists with little capital and to local
community based galleries. In comparison, Twist’s career path was more profitable compared to
Dream’s; however, the notion of profiteering within hip-hop culture highlights the contradictory
constraints of fame within graffiti culture. Since many writers rebelled against the corporate
power structures with their works, they were soon courted by the very powers they were
critiquing. Lewisohn writes:

76

The sadly ironic factor in this process is that as soon as the very marketing
executives and advertising agencies against whom the artists had been protesting
caught up to the fact that street-art-style imagery had a hip-by-association
rebelliousness attached to it, they started using the format to sell their
products.

194

As a result, this situation affected the careers and legacies of both artists differently. Whereas
Dream was championed as the authentic community minded writer, Twist was deemed as the
inauthentic gallery-courting artist: such criticisms revealed the often contradictory expectations
within the graffiti scene. Corporate sponsorship, in Twist’s case robbed the artist of his
anonymity, while Dream’s work for the underground retained his anonymity, and therefore made
his work more “authentic.” Lewisohn writes, “working anonymously, artists are free from the
fear that a bad review might upset their future prospects.”

195

Thus, Dream’s refusal to go

mainstream retained his credibility and subjected him to less criticism.

Life After Death: the Legacy of Mike Dream
He was humble,
Trying to escape the trouble,
Raised up in the hustle,
Enlightened by the struggle,
Memories live forever,
Never one dies,
And you are living through your graffiti pieces,
And son’s eyes. – Equipto
77

The lyrics of Equipto’s “My Dream” (2008) declare Mike “Dream” Francisco as the most
talented and beloved graffiti artist of the Bay Area. A member of TDK, Dream, who was shot
and killed in 2000, had an enormous impact on hip-hop culture in the Bay Area. In this section, I
will investigate the impact of Dream’s legacy and his posthumous impact on Bay Area hip-hop
cultural industries.
Dream’s legacy is held in high regard throughout hip-hop circles of the Bay Area largely
due to his social consciousness as a writer of color. A letter posted posthumously on a website
indicates his politics:
I went through a consciousness phase in the writing, realizing that ‘art for art's
sake’ was weak and that there was power in the message. I began to understand
the roots of my own culture. My Filipino heritage taught me about the struggles
and sacrifices of my people for equality in this country, opening my eyes to the
racism that surrounds our lives, and all of our brothers and sisters of color. My
pieces started to have more content and substance, and each piece meant more
than bombing (which is a fundamental part of this writing culture), but had more
of a message. My writing has become a part of mental liberation, focusing on
issues such as police brutality, national liberation, racism, and rebellion. But,
ultimately it is the style of the letters, the words that keep me writing, because to
stay in the game, you need to stay on top of your style and ride that shit.

196

Dream’s statement signifies the importance of one’s craft in combination with an unrelenting
passion for social justice. An interview from a show entitled No Justice No Peace (1993) at
Oakland’s ProArts gallery represents his pursuit of social justice.

197

Dream responds to Melinda

Bell’s questions regarding graffiti culture with ease by stating he is not a “sell out,” that graffiti
78

art is used as a medium to express anger, and that it provides “a dose of reality” which is
characterized by oppression and police brutality.
Dream had an enormous impact of bridging the African American and Asian American
communities across the Bay Area as a number of fundraisers held after his passing confirm this.
The tenth year anniversary of the writer’s death marked a number of parties given across the Bay
Area. The largest event, Dream Day, held on February 5th, 2010, featured a who’s who of the
Bay Area hip-hop scene. A number of Asian American artists such as Equipto (of the hip-hop
group Bored Stiff), Shortkut, Apollo, and TDK supported the event. Ten years earlier, Saafir of
Hobo Junction and members of ISP held a benefit at San Francisco’s Justice League.
Many local writers dedicated pieces in remembrance of Dream’s body of work and a
number of pieces dedicated to the artist have flourished across the Bay Area. The Dream Wall is
found in the Alemany Farmers Market of San Francisco and features works by a number of
artists. Remembrance is Power (R.I.P.) features quotes by Dream, Malcolm X, Bob Marley and
the Roots. In East Oakland, off of International Boulevard and 52nd, a Dream mural complete
with Philippine flag, the Bay Bridge, a BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) train, spray can nozzles,
and markers, signals his legacy and neighborhood. The symbolism of the East Oakland mural
marks not only his ethnic heritage with the Philippine flag, but also Bay Area pride with the
images of the Bay Bridge and BART train, and his work within graffiti culture symbolized by
the nozzles and markers. The aforementioned pieces serve as reminder to Dream’s legacy of
198

social justice and therefore can be read as politically empowering the community.

Dream’s legacy has been upheld not only by hip-hop’s writers but also its emcees. For
example, Bay Area hip-hop group Various Blends dedicated their album My Favorite Mistake
(2001) to Dream. The album’s dedication marks the merchandising of Dream’s legacy through

79

an establishment of the Dream Legacy Fund for Francisco’s fatherless (and recently motherless)
199

child Akil.

In addition, hyphy artist Nump released the video Dream (2007) that features the

artist rapping in front of Dream’s pieces along with Asian Pacific Islander women singing the
200

backup vocals.

Nump raps the following lyrics indicating Dream’s influence:

You are the reason that my voice is on wax,
Because I see your work,
Tattoos and shirts,
Websites,
And I’m like that’s proof that,
You don’t gotta to do dirt,
When destiny involved,
It heavily revolves,
If you stick to the script,
And that’s it.
Nump’s lyrics and video not only attest to Dream’s influence but the artist’s skill. Nump
declares Dream the “king” and proof that success can be achieved through persistence not only
against the establishment but also barriers within hip-hop culture dictated by racially exclusive
notions.
When the City of Oakland declared February 17th 2010 as “Mike Francisco Dream Day”
the passage of the declaration marked the contradictions within graffiti culture. Dream’s passion
for social justice outshined the illegality of his works transforming graffiti into a socially
acceptable medium in organizing circles. Mayor Ron Dellums’ declaration, for example,
signifies how graffiti culture has become more palatable in political arenas. In addition, during

80

the second night of civil unrest stemming from the killing of Oscar Grant, Filipinos for
Affirmative Action held an event at the Asian Resource Center in Oakland’s Chinatown. Behind
one of the vendors at the event was a large spray painted banner of a woman of Asian Pacific
Islander descent holding a machine gun and child (see Figure 2). Such politically charged
imagery has become commonplace within organizing circles and stands in opposition to those
pieces found in galleries.
Twist and the Politics of Space
I like to think of it [graffiti] as something beautiful not antagonizing…the act in
itself is antagonizing…It doesn’t have the various trappings of the art world…A
201

kid’s tag is a kid’s tag and that’s it! – Twist

Twist, born Barry McGee, was born and raised in San Francisco where he completed a Bachelors
of Fine Arts from the Art Institute of San Francisco in 1991. He is half Chinese. Since
graduating, McGee has “spent the last two decades successfully engaging audiences by mounting
his graffiti-centered art in galleries and museums.”

202

Within this section, Twist’s cultural

influences will be explored to highlight how other cultures besides hip-hop influenced his pursuit
of graffiti and how the politics of space influences his work. In addition, I will reveal how
graffiti culture’s cultural expectation to remain authentic impacts the artist’s work.
Barry McGee’s introduction to graffiti culture did not occur through hip-hop but rather
California’s punk rock and hardcore scenes of the 1980s. McGee recalls seeing one writer’s
work while attending punk shows:
There was always graffiti in these places and I was just like, ‘Who is this guy? I
keep on seeing this guy.’ There was this one guy, Cuba, he wrote ‘Cuba’ and it
81

was at all the same hardcore shows in the bathroom, on the door, and on the
street. And then I was like ‘What, who’s doing this?’ It was different than my
idea of what graffiti was before that.

203

Graffiti at the time was considered vandalism and/or associated with gangs claiming their
turf.

204

The influence of graffiti culture had influenced some, such as Bay Area transplant,

Cuba, however, the scene registered with only a few individuals whom had traveled to the New
York City or were immersed in hip-hop culture. McGee continues how another incident initiated
him into the scene:
We all used to ride scooters and stuff around. And there was this one guy that –
this is dumb – we used to go ride our scooters around, like Vespas and
Lambrettas. And there was this one guy, he would always carry spray paint in his
side panel and at every stop, why he’d just get off and he’d do this huge like...he
wrote ‘Zotz’ or something, and the ‘O’ was this big cowboy thing, like the ‘O’
was a big cowboy face. And I was ‘Say, what the hell are you doing you know?’
And he was like, ‘I’m doing graffiti, they’re doing this in New York right now.’
It was '84 or '85, right around there. And he was like ‘Yeah, everyone’s doing
this stuff in New York and you should try it too. You want to try it or
something?’ And I was like ‘Yeah, I'll give it a try.’ And he goes, ‘You have to
come up with a name first.’ There’s probably some dumb scooter magazine at the
time that was called Twist or something – I think that’s how I got it. But I’ve
been stuck with that dumb name ever since.

205

McGee contends that he was inspired by graffiti since it has the “ability to offend the public.”

206

He has also said that he was attracted to graffiti culture since it is a “simple act that really pisses

82

people off,” “excites,” or “disturbs people.”

207

Once initiated into the culture, Twist honed his
208

craft by getting “schooled” (taught) by Bay Area writers Spie and Dream.

Such an alliance

suggests a support network among its writers of Asian Pacific Islander ancestry.
Twist’s influences, however, extends beyond popular music. The multiracial and
multiethnic composition of the Bay Area manifests in multiple murals found throughout the
neighborhoods of San Francisco, Oakland and Berkeley. San Francisco’s Mission District boasts
the highest number of murals found in the Bay Area and artists of Latino descent craft many of
209

these murals.

Space is a recurring theme running throughout McGee’s work that questions the notion of
private property. Twist claims that graffiti allows the dispossessed to claim territory as theirs:
And just taking a space and doing it – they [writers] are making a statement.
Claiming a spot on an abandoned building, so people see. I think it’s a pretty big
move for someone who doesn’t have a voice to claim: ‘I don’t have anything but I
have this, at least I have this, on this building.’ It provides a feeling of
accomplishment and ownership over something: ‘I own that. That’s mine.’

210

The claiming of space is a reoccurring theme within graffiti culture. Hoch (2006) writes,
Poor youth are putting their codified names on public transit, schools, and
property as if to say, ‘We own this – this is ours,’ but also a highly evolved
language emerging from groups of young people (crews) who are battling for
graffiti stakes and fame.

211

The lack of ownership propels many youth to tag property as theirs and graffiti is thereby
declared an act of vandalism.

212

83

McGee argues that the corporate monopolization of space has an ill affect on everyday
people who are bombarded with advertisements dictating how people should “look, act and
feel.”

213

He continues on the damaging effects of advertising:
To me, if there’s commercial jingles from the '70s or '80s that I remember and
that are stuck in my head, that’s damage to me. Like you’re driving down the
street and all of a sudden you’re humming along to some commercial that you
remember when you were a kid – to me that's far more damaging. The billboards
are very subversive, and advertising is very subversive, whereas most of the stuff
that’s done on the street is very close to the truth...I know why it exists. There’s
people that have a lot of money and there’s people that have next to nothing. But
214

it competes with the space that people consider the public space.

The corporate monopolization of public space inspires him to create more work on the street.

215

Twist’s character “the everyman” is a reoccurring caricature that has become
synonymous with his name. He contends that the character is “very specific to San Francisco,
where there’s a huge homeless population that everyone wants to be free of, a bit like graffiti
things that the city is trying to get rid of, or pretending doesn’t exist. With my work I’m trying
to reveal this.”

216

Twist’s character can be read as an attempt to remind San Francisco residents

of the plight of the homeless while simultaneously providing passers-by an alternative to
corporate advertizing and the monopolization of space.
McGee’s work within the artist gallery scene reveals the cultural expectation within the
graffiti scene to remain authentic. Early in his career, Barry had the desire to bring the streets
217

into the art gallery world.

Some within the graffiti scene have claimed his gallery work as

proof of the artist “selling out.” McGee has responded to such criticism by creating more work:
84

Whenever I do stuff indoors, I feel like I have to do one hundred and ten percent
more outdoors to keep my street credibility. It is probably the audience I am most
worried about – the graffiti kids that are really doing stuff. I am always worried
about how a twelve or thirteen year old what do they think of what I have done
218

and where do I fit in the scheme of things? ‘Oh that guy sold out.’

Ever cognizant of the claims of “selling out,” McGee continues to create works on the street and
often sprays the slogan “smash the state” on many walls. “I saw that spray-painted around the
city quite a bit in the '80s; I just picked up the rock and started throwing it. I hope someone will
find that same rock and do the same. Shit is fucked up, everyone can agree on that,” he recounts.
219

Always humble, Twist, avoids declaring who is the best graffiti artist and supports “anyone

and everyone who has pulled a spray can, marker, or rock from their pocket and used it against
the status quo.”

220

Conclusion
During a chilly San Francisco night in San Francisco’s North Beach neighborhood, I walked
along Romolo Alley that features a building length mural entitled Gold Mountain (1994) created
by Ann Sherry. The mural features portraits of Chinese Americans from San Francisco’s history
and has been the target of vandalism since its creation and was restored in 2004. One image is
particularly striking in that the object of defacement is that of a Chinese American policeman
(see Figure 3). Such vandalism speaks not only to the tension between legal and illegal street art,
but also the ever-present pressure within graffiti culture to retain its authenticity through acts
against the establishment even if those acts are directed toward community murals.
Pieces, much like murals, carry political messages and the erasure of such declarations

85

mark the tenuous relationships between writers. For example, the Revolution Café in San
Francisco’s Mission District featured a graffiti mural of a number of peoples with fists raised in
the air that was created by youth and locally recognized graffiti artist Cuba. The owner of the
café commissioned a new mural erasing the political agency of the former in 2010. Within a few
days, the new mural was sprayed with the phrase “No Culture Vulture.” This led to a meeting
between the new and former artists who decided to paint a new mural with help from youth
during a summer festival. After much pressure, the new mural, evokes the power of the former,
only this time, the Tagalog word, Katipunan, is featured retaining its political urgency. A year
later, Cuba and other writers constructed a piece in the Mission District’s Clarion Alley entitled
Respect the Culture: Over 27 Years of Writing History that acknowledges the Bay Area’s “graf”
writers among them Dream, Crayone and Spie (see Figure 4).
The legacy of Mike “Dream” Francisco signifies the influence of Asian American writers
of the Bay Area on hip-hop culture’s industries. The number of murals and pieces dedicated to
Dream in combination with countless events and recordings serve as a reminder of the writer’s
impact on subsequent generation of hip-hop artists and writers. Although his identity remained
underground, his passing ultimately serves as a reminder of his timeless talent and never-ending
pursuit of social justice that continues to influence and inspire.
Barry “Twist” McGee’s career signifies the influence of Asian American writers of the
Bay Area on the graffiti scene. His works – illegal and legal – represent the contradictory
expectations within graffiti culture to become famous but also remain credible and authentic.
Twist’s fame and notoriety, however, continues to influence and inspire those who are
dissatisfied with the status quo.

86

Chapter Five: Dancing with Swagger: Asian American Dance Crews
I’m on the schoolyard with my classmates standing in a circle. Laughter, ‘oh’s,’
and ‘aws’ fill the air as we watch two dancers compete against each other. The
mere point of a finger, however, quickly stifles one’s laughter and represents a
challenge to an onlooker and a new competition begins. This friendly competition
is known as breakdancing.

Break dancing is a style of competitive, acrobatic, and pantomimic dancing. It
began as a kind of game, a friendly contest in which black and Hispanic teenagers
outdid one another with outrageous physical contortions, spins, and back flips,
wedded to a fluid, syncopated, circling body rock done close to the ground.
Breaking once meant only dancing on the floor, but now its definition has
widened to include electric boogie, up-rock, aerial gymnastics, and all sorts of
other fancy variations.

221

My initial entré into hip-hop culture was breakdancing. Since breaking was the first form of hiphop culture wholeheartedly embraced by the media, its influence was undeniable. I recall seeing
Breakin’ (1984) at an Oakland movie theater and remember the film melting in the projector.
Moviegoers were displeased; however, nobody foresaw how breaking would fare in the ensuing
years: an over-saturation that caused the dance form to return to the hip-hop underground to
undergo innovations.

222

Asian American breakers formed collectives or crews to hone their craft. Banes (2004)
writes,
87

The b-boys organized themselves according to neighborhood or family ties into
crews, which were networks for socializing, writing graffiti, and rapping, as well
as dancing, held together by a strict code of ethics and loyalty. Crews performed
in a spirit of friendly competition at jams where the crew leader directed the
223

group’s moves.

As crews, Asian American breakers of the Bay Area performed within multiracial or
predominately Asian American collectives in talent shows, cultural events, and/or on the street.
For example, while attending a Pilipino Culture Night (PCN) at UC Davis (2005), I witnessed a
crew of sixteen dancers perform a hip-hop dance routine that proved to be “a PCN favorite.”

224

Indeed, breaking has become so common that audiences expect to see hip-hop dance routines
performed at many PCNs. Such expectations suggest that breaking has become a strikingly
Filipino American phenomenon and this is evident in the many crews that perform on dance
show competitions on television.
Past seasons of MTV’s America’s Best Dance Crew featured a number of dancers of
Asian Pacific Islander descent: the JabbaWockeez, Kaba Modern, SuperCr3w, Quest Crew, and
Poreotix all of which utilized hip-hop and R&B to wide acclaim. These crews competed in high
school and/or college talent shows before they were propelled into the limelight via the fiercely
competitive world of reality television.

225

Their dominance, however, has been met with scrutiny largely due to attitudes regarding
Asian American dancers as inextricably tied to the past. Wong (2010) writes,
The perception of Asians as remnants of a past civilization constructs the Asian
body through the past. This is not merely a way of thinking that the body

88

produces memory and history, but that the Asian body is historical rather than
contemporary.

226

Asian American dance crews, however, utilize hip-hop and R&B to contest such attitudes that
restrict them from contributing to American national culture.
This chapter investigates the historical lineage of Asian American dance in hip-hop
dance. First, I will historicize Asian American dance through the investigation of nightclubs and
dance to provide foundation for the subsequent rise of Asian American dance crews influenced
by African American music. Second, I will explore the recollections of Asian American
breakdancers. Lastly, I will analyze the JabbaWockeez’ utilization of masks and the impact on
their ethnic identities.
Historicizing Asian American Dance
“Wing Lee’s Ragtime Clock” (1899) is an example of sheet music from the Tin Pan Alley era
(1890-1930) that provides commentary on how blacks and Chinese figured into the American
imaginary. The lyrics reveal that Wing Lee, a laundry shop owner, dislikes ragtime music as
indicated by the phrase “no likee.” However, when the clock plays a ragtime tune it attracts
“coons” into his laundry shop and he cannot convince them to leave. The song is significant
because it is an example of sheet music which features negative portrayals of blacks and Chinese
within the same song. The song inspires the further investigation of the obstacles faced by both
African Americans and Asian Americans during late 19th century America.
Asian American performers were rare during the late 19th and early 20th centuries due to
the predominance of Orientalist attitudes that manifested in a number of staged performances by
227

non-Asians.

Yoshihara (2003) describes this as a form of “popular Orientalism” which
89

manifested in both lowbrow and highbrow theaters.

228

Tchen (1999) argues that this form of

Orientalism had a commercial marketplace “that catered to consumers who would buy only
229

certain products and representations about Chinese things, people, and ideas.”

European

Americans portraying Asians on the stage and later film – a phenomena described as
Yellowface – became commonplace throughout the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

230

These

obstacles led many Asian Americans to perform in musical venues in which jazz and swing
featured prominently – genres with African American roots. In this section, I will explore the
historical intersections between Asian Americans and African Americans in dance throughout
the twentieth century by investigating jazz and swing clubs and the subsequent Asian popular
cultural influences of breakdancing.
In the early twentieth century, Asian Pacific Islander men frequented nightclubs that
played jazz and swing and such venues provided an outlet for them to express their masculinity.
Within these venues, they were seen as a threat to white women and racial purity during the time
of anti-miscegenation laws.

231

On the east coast, Asians attending New York dance clubs were

cast in a similar light as Filipinos in California since the press portrayed Asian “masculinity as
simultaneously threatening and thrilling.”

232

The aforementioned clubs often led to sensational

media coverage since such venues disrupted popular views of segregation during the times
restricted immigration, land ownership, citizenship, and anti-miscegenation laws. The hip-hop
group the Black Eyed Peas has portrayed the socio-historical reality of the period. Their music
video Bebot (2006) is a portrayal of Filipino migrant workers in Stockton, California and
features a predominately Pinoy (male) crowd performing music and dance led by half-Filipino
American emcee Apl.de.ap.

233

While the inclusion of many Pinays (women) within the video

90

may take liberties with the historical and social reality of the period, the opening of sequence of
the signage reading “Absolutely No Filipinos Allowed” and the decision to include a number of
white women attempts to provide an accurate portrayal of the experiences of Manongs (older
brothers) in taxi dance halls.
During the 1930s and 1940s Chinese Americans in San Francisco, Chinatown later
capitalized on such sensational behaviors epitomized by the popular nightclub Forbidden City.
The nightclub attracted audiences to experience risqué song and dance routines performed by
Chinese Americans. Tajima-Peña (2009) notes that the nightclub was an “all-Chinese revue of
singers, dancers, and jokesters” and they venue catered to Orientalist expectations of the times
resulting in performances featuring bellydancing, Chinoiserie, harem masters and Little
Egypt.

234

Like, the African American Cotton Club on the East Coast, Forbidden City gained an
235

international reputation for its performances.

With the repeal of the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1943 and subsequent liberalization of
immigration laws in the 1960s came a period of integration of Asian Pacific Islanders, many of
whom found meaning within black popular music and resistance. Tommy Chong, for instance,
was a session player for Motown. In addition, Joe Bataan, a Filipino and African American
singer and owner of the Salsoul label, released a number of recognized releases throughout the
early 1970s. Furthermore, the Black Power Movement inspired cross-cultural influences that led
many Asian Americans to adopt fashions and hairstyles worn by black activists. My aunt, for
instance, had a tight afro perm inspired by Black Panther Party member Angela Davis.
Likewise, Asian popular culture, specifically martial arts films, influenced the black
dance form breakdancing in the late 1970s. Many scholars note the key role kung-fu films and
Bruce Lee had on breakdancing that suggests a lineage of Asian cultural influence within the

91

236

dance form.

Pabon (2004) notes that there was a hip-hop dance form in San Francisco called

the “Chinese Strut” and such a dance form may have been influenced by the high concentration
237

of Asian Pacific Islanders living in the Bay Area and the popularity of martial arts films.

The cross-cultural influences between Asian Americans and African Americans later
manifested in contemporary dance shows. For example, Hella Hung, a contestant of the sixth
season of So You Think You Can Dance (2010), utilized martial arts stereotypes for his audition.
However, what is striking is Hung’s use of black language, break dance, and an aggressive
sexuality. Allowed a humorous intro, Hella Hung speaks out of sync mimicking dubbed kung fu
films. This is furthered by the use of gong and water ripple sound effects. These oft-utilized
motifs are shattered when he says, “you better bring it son.” Such an appropriation of black
language implies the cross-cultural influences of martial arts and blaxploitation cinema in the
1970s; however, in this case the influence is reversed (black influencing Asian).

238

This is

furthered by Hung’s hyper-masculinity indicative of his comedic romancing of the show’s host
Cat Deely. His over-sexed persona can be read as an appropriation of black masculinity.

239

Thus, Hella Hung’s sexual advances toward Deely, although comedic, can be read as an attempt
to masculinize Asian American males through the appropriation of black sexuality. Failure to
impress the judges with his unsatisfactory but humorous display of breakdancing skills, however,
overshadowed his masculinity.
Asian American masculinity came to the forefront of the eighth season of So You Think
You Can Dance (2011) with finalists Tadd and Marko. Both dancers excelled in a variety of
dance routines in which hip-hop featured prominently. Tadd, a crowd favorite, entered the
competition as a “self taught breaker” who quickly learned other dance routines.

92

240

Marko, who

migrated from Guam to Los Angeles, also excelled in a variety of dance forms. Even though the
two were part of the final four, they were both eliminated.
The historical intersections between African and Asian Americans in dance warrants
further investigation. Filipino and Asian men equally sought solace from a society that cast their
masculinity as a threat and these men exercised their masculinity in black venues. With the
repeal of the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1943 and the subsequent liberalization of immigration
laws, many people of Asian Pacific Islander descent continued to find meaning within black
music. The influence of martial arts films on breakdancing, however, indicates a reciprocal
cultural exchange between Asians and African Americans. Such an exchange manifests in the
performances by Asian American breakers performing on popular dance show competitions.

Breakin’ Memories
A number of interviewees shared recollections of breakdancing as youth growing up in
California. This is largely due to the mainstreaming of hip-hop dance through the films
Flashdance (1983), Beat Street (1984), and Breakin’ (1984). These films resultantly influenced
many youth to either be “a breaker, a DJ, or a graffiti artist” according to one participant.

241

Like their DJ and graffiti artist counterparts, breakers formed collectives or crews. These crews
242

“performed in a spirit of friendly competition” and offered an alternative to violence.

The

following experiences highlight the influence of hip-hop culture and its impact on Asian
Americans by providing insight into the proliferation of contemporary Asian American dance
crews.
Many interviewees recalled choosing breaking because of their lack of capital restricted
them from becoming DJs or graffiti artists. One participant recalled becoming a breaker
93

because, “it was free” and he simply had to “walk down the hill to Serramonte Mall to
practice.”

243

Many Filipino American breakers congregated in public areas such as the mall, the

War Memorial, and/or the gym, since these areas did not require a fee to practice. One
participant recalled his experience breaking at the mall:
You would walk with a bunch a people in the mall. If you were going to
challenge someone, what you ended up doing since you could not do it in the mall
was take your cardboard and tell them, ‘We are going to meet at such and such
place.’ It would be some[place] where everyone would lie out the cardboard and
duct tape and lay out the boomboxes and go at it.

244

The inexpensive materials allowed people to practice virtually anywhere. One participant
recalled breaking in her kitchen with her cousins:
I remember we would cut up the cardboard and then we would lay it out on the
linoleum floor in the kitchen and [my cousins] would just be breaking. Two older
[male] cousins would get all the neighborhood kids to collect cardboard and
would break. I actually learned how to break! It was cool. I think I was five or
six. I was pretty young. They were twelve or thirteen [at the time].

245

Filipinos interviewed noted that the familial aspect of breaking allowed participants to
incorporate hip-hop dance within their family events such as weddings and baptisms. Like, DJing, breaking featured prominently among many family functions and co-existed alongside
Filipino traditional dances such as candle dancing and Tinikling.
As breaking became popular, many participants recalled the local news covering the
scene and as a result, many became famous. One participant recalled the local news coming to
the War Memorial to report on the breaking craze. He recalled Apollo, a future DJ of Invisibl

94

Skratch Piklz, being interviewed by the news and such coverage was akin to seeing “one’s
246

friends and neighborhood in a movie.”

Another interviewee recalled feeling a sense of pride

that his peer, Boogaloo Shrimp, became a celebrity by appearing in the film Breakin’. He
recalled being surprised to see the famous breaker attend his high school dances to perform and
noted “stardom did not affect the breaker’s ego.”

247

The immersion in hip-hop dance ultimately surfaced and figured prominently in Asian
American talent shows and cultural events such as Fiesta Islands, Fiesta Filipino, and college
cultural nights such as Pilipino Cultural Night. Such events were instrumental in preparing
Asian American dance crews to compete on nationally televised competitions such as America’s
Best Dance Crew.

Behind the Mask: the JabbaWockeez and Asian American Dance Crews

Asian Americans have featured prominently in dance shows, however, as solo dancers few make
the final cut. Those that are granted media exposure tend to fit a number of concocted
categories: emasculated males, cute females, and laughable anomalies. Asian American dancers
organizing collectively as crews favor a better chance at winning competitions than they do if
they compete individually. The proliferation of Asian American hip-hop dance collectives
ultimately found mainstream acceptance on Randy Jackson’s America’s Best Dance Crew in
2008 and featured two Asian American dance crews as the finalists: the JabbaWockeez and Kaba
Modern.
The winning dance crew, the JabbaWockeez, however, initially muted their ethnic
heritages to achieve stardom. Like their DJ and graffiti artists counterparts, the muting of their

95

ancestries is a strategic decision that redirects attentions to their skills rather than their ethnic
backgrounds. The JabbaWockeez utilized masks and gloves throughout their performances
similar to how the Invisbl Skratch Piklz utilized mask for their initial releases. Perhaps,
JabbaWockeez’ self-erasure of their ethnic and racial identities stemmed from the negative
publicity given to William Hung’s performance as the racial other; an odd physicality combined
with a strong accent. Although, Hung capitalized on his otherness and inept singing by releasing
Inspiration (2004) such attempts reinforced notions of Asian Americans as the foreigner within;
a perception deftly avoided by JabbaWockeez. Dancer Gutierrez commented, “[t]he idea of the
mask is to remove all ethnic and social barriers when we perform.”

248

Asian Week columnist

Tina Tsai reaffirmed this notion by writing:
This competition is not about ethnic heritage or race – it’s about dancing. Every
competitor has shown extreme skill in this department, regardless of heritage.
Nonetheless, it’s time for Asian Americans to make themselves known in yet
another field of arts and entertainment, and break down some of those enslaving
model minority walls.

249

The crew’s use of masks, thus, can be read as an attempt to deflect perceptions of the model
minority myth that are furthered challenged by their mastery of hip-hop dance. Their
performance challenged popular viewpoints of Asians in America studying violin, piano and
other classical instruments through the utilization of hip-hop and R&B – genres that are usually
equated with a raw urban feel carrying dangerous connotations.

250

As a result, Asian Americans

hip-hop dancers contest notions of model minority being “properly behaved” by performing hiphop dance that is considered to be rawer than its classical counterparts.

96

251

The success of the JabbaWockeez challenged parental pressures to succeed in traditional
career paths. Dancer Chris Gatdula notes the restrictiveness he and his peers faced from their
parents:
A lot of our parents expected us to get a college degree, make $50K, get a
traditional career, like become a doctor, a nurse, an engineer. But young Asian
Americans like us look at the world differently. Dancing, once viewed as a pasttime activity, is actually an artistic form of expression and is a career.

252

The dancer’s insight highlights the generational divide between parents and their offspring
oftentimes manifesting in conflict over career choices that are deemed non-traditional. Despite
this conflict, however, the dancers continue the ethnic traditions of their parents by maintaining
their language. Manager Audie Vergara argued, “The fact that the guys still speak their ethnic
languages is a testament that they haven’t lost their heritage.”

253

After winning the competition, the JabbaWockeez’ identities came to the forefront as
revealed by the Asian Week article “Behind the Mask: The JabbaWockeez, America’s Best
Dance Crew” (2008). The article reveals the crew’s strong Asian American fan-base indicative
of the tight knit networks within hip-hop collectives as indicated by an event hosted by the
Fingerbangerz, a multiracial DJ crew featuring Asian American members. Thus, JabbaWockeez
and their Asian American dance crew counterparts benefit from having a unified pan-Asian or
multicultural membership – hidden or “unmasked” within the larger hip-hop collective.

Conclusion

97

I’m waiting for the cable car on Powell and Market Streets in San Francisco as a multiracial crew
of breakers tape cardboard onto the concrete. Soon music from their boombox fills the air and
gets the attention of tourists. Soon applause erupts from the crowd and the breakers pass around
a hat asking for donations. Such events were commonplace when breaking returned to the
underground; however, now with the success of America’s Best Dance Crew and So You Think
You Can Dance it appears as if breaking has returned into the national spotlight. Indeed, the
JabbaWockeez’ residence at Las Vegas (2011) speaks to America’s fascination with breaking.
After the triumph of the JabbaWockeez, subsequent dance crews featuring Filipino
American dancers utilized their ethnicity for marketing purposes. Subsequent winners – We
Are Heroes and Poreotix – toured nationally specifically where large populations of Filipino
Americans reside. One such event displaying their allegiance to maintaining Filipino American
culture is the annual Kababayan Fest. What distinguishes Kababayan from other Filipino
festivals in the United States is the emphasis of the Filipino American experience. Kababayan
features a variety of artists which reflect mainstream Filipino American tastes (including hip-hop
and R&B) rather than cultural traditional dances from the Philippines.
Hip-hop dance, however, is performed alongside traditional dances at many PCNs and
signals the influence hip-hop culture has on Filipino American college students. The program
for Finding History Revealing Echoes (2005), for example, features three silhouettes of Filipinos
– two women and one man. Within each silhouette are flags of the Philippines and/or the US
that signify their nationalities. What is striking, however, is the inclusion of a spray paint can,
boombox, and textbooks within the figure that stands defiant in the foreground.
The success of Asian American dance crews opened the door for future opportunities that
capitalized on their stardom. Just as the JabbaWockeez enjoyed multiple media opportunities,

98

Poreotix’ popularity landed a music video appearance with one of music’s top teen stars – Justin
Bieber. The music video for Somebody to Love (2010) features Poreotix dancing in the
background. On the surface, the dance crew’s performance comes off as a backdrop behind the
dominant black (Usher) and white (Bieber) binary. Their inclusion, however, demonstrates the
competitiveness and quality of Asian American dance crews.
The history of Asian American dance, however, has explicit ties to the larger African
American experience. The experiences of Asian American men within jazz and swing clubs –
two genres with African American roots – highlight the influence of black music on Asian
Americans seeking enjoyment in the face of discrimination and racism. Likewise, the popularity
of martial arts cinema subsequently influenced the popular late twentieth century black dance
form breakdancing. A comment by Twitch, a dancer of So You Think You Can Dance, about
fellow contestant Alex Wong speaks to this cross-cultural exchange. Twitch commented that
Wong had “swagger.”
The experiences of interviewees speak to the influence of hip-hop culture on Asian
American youth. Their decisions to “break” were largely influenced by the lack of capital and
learned from popular hip-hop films of the period. Soon this style of dancing was incorporated in
Filipino American family gatherings and subsequently found its place in high school talent
shows and/or college cultural nights.

99

Chapter Six: Repping the Bay: Asian American Emcees and Hip-Hop Authenticity

Hip hop’s uses of ‘real’ and ‘true’ versus ‘fake’ and ‘phony’ frame hip hop as a
culture and industry in which artists struggle to maintain an authenticity of self,
community, and culture, while still producing a commercial music.

254

The commercial viability of Asian American hip-hop artists limits their crossover appeal and
designates them to the hip-hop underground. The cultural expectation to remain authentic is
pervasive throughout the underground’s anti-establishment and anti-corporate stances. In turn,
Asian American hip-hop artists of the Bay Area epitomize “real” hip-hop by producing,
recording, and distributing their own releases. For example, I recall sitting in the driver’s seat of
my friend’s pickup truck as we drove onto Highway 101 towards San Francisco. Sounds of her
husband’s release The Summer Exposure Mixtape (2007) filled the truck and she identified the
artist as being Kiwi. She shared stories of selling her husband’s releases – both solo and as a part
of Native Guns – at community events and to local Filipino American organizations and Asian
American Studies classes. Her distribution of Kiwi’s releases speaks to the lengths many
unsigned Asian American hip-hop artists of the Bay Area will go to sell their releases by
accessing the larger Asian American community through its tight-knit network.
Asian American emcees of the Bay Area possess a keen knowledge of hip-hop culture
and its cultural expectation to remain authentic. For example, Jona Chung of Cuttynclean
Records states,
Underground, you’re really just doing it because that’s what you like doing.
That’s what your passion is. Mainstream, is kind of like, just looking for this

100

image. They are looking for this character that is huge. They are looking for this
person that will be manipulated and used. And put their picture everywhere, blow
255

it up, and make money, then drop them, if they don’t make money.

His insights clearly demarcate what is “real” and what is “fake” within hip-hop culture. In this
case, being underground is driven by a “passion” for hip-hop culture, not the desire to make
money. Skitz the Samurida echoes Chung’s view by arguing “an underground artist is not
making this for a profit. They might break even or they might make a little something.”

256

Furthermore, Equipto argues that emcees must show respect for hip-hop culture by learning its
257

history in order to be authentic.

Hip-hop authenticity influences the credibility of Asian American hip-hop artists of the
Bay Area. By analyzing a number of songs and videos by Asian American emcees who perform
within the underground scene, the Hyphy Movement, and conscious hip-hop circles, I will reveal
how these artists fulfill the expectations to remain authentic in the following ways: first by
investigating how Bay Area pride manifests in their releases; second by investigating how
ethnicity manifests in the lyrics of underground emcees of Japanese ancestry; third by revealing
how emcees utilize Bay Area slang; and finally how the lyrics of emcees highlight various levels
of consciousness that resonates with their culturally-activated audiences. In so doing, I hope to
highlight the difficulties of establishing a singular Asian American hip-hop aesthetic.

“Down For Our City:” Authenticity in Bay Area Hip-Hop

After eating at a Filipino restaurant in San Bruno, my friend and colleague offers me a ride back
into San Francisco. As we cruise onto the Highway 101 on ramp, the opening bass drums of E-

101

40’s “Tell Me When To Go” (2006) rattles the interior of the pickup truck. This soon leads to a
debate on the mainstreaming of the Hyphy Movement. We enter into a debate on the hyphy
scene – whether it is the cultural byproduct of the Bay Area’s burgeoning medical marijuana and
ecstasy scenes or whether it is simply a manifestation of Bay Area pride. She insisted on the
later and the defense of her argument was intense. Indeed, many hip-hop artists from the Bay
Area claim their hometown, zip code, and/or counties as an act of pride.
Asian American hip-hop artists continue the tradition of reflecting one’s pride in their
localities by referencing their cities in song and/or video that cultivates credibility from their fanbase. By analyzing the videos of Mistah Roger, Bored Stiff, EyeASage, and Mint Rock, this
section reveals how Bay Area pride manifests differently in their releases. This pride is evident
throughout videos in which emcees embrace sports teams, defend their cities through violent
means, and/or reference the Bay Area’s many neighborhoods and districts.
Mistah Roger’s Down For Our City (2011) showcases Bay Area pride through an
embracement of Bay Area sports teams. The video features the emcee rapping with Vudoo (of
the Gookstaz), Loc V, and Too Sicc about East Oakland and San Jose. Each emcee wears sports
apparel: the Raiders, Oakland Athletics, and San Francisco Giants to reflect Bay Area pride.
Emcee Too Sicc starts the song by declaring, “from Oakland to San Jose what’s hap’nin” while
standing in the upper deck seats of the Oakland Coliseum. Subsequent footage of the HP
Pavillon signifies San Jose’s alliance with Oakland. Emcee Loc V’s line “it’s the city of the
Sharks and Giants” continues the sports theme of the song. The end of the emcee’s verse –
“we’re real quick to spark the violence” – however, takes the song in a violent direction.
Bay Area pride manifests in violent imagery throughout Down For Our City – violence
that the emcees reflect from their high crime environments of East Oakland and San Jose. After

102

Loc V’s verse, South East Asian youth wearing shades, hats and bandanas to conceal their
identities point pistols at the camera. This culminates in a scene in which an anonymous youth
points an AK-47 at the camera. Such a display of violence to defend their city grants an
unquestionable realness to the emcees that is heightened by a close up on an empty gun shell
casing. Furthermore, the song’s chorus reinforces the video’s violent theme:
We got real ninjas all around,
Soon as you step in town,
Oakland, California is where it rolls down,
We hold it down for our city,
We got real ninjas from San Jose,
And yeah, they all riders,
The 408 is down with Oakland,
Nothing but raw fighters.
“Real ninjas” is a racialized slang term for Asian youth who are “riders” and “raw fighters” –
descriptors that are reinforced by gun imagery. “The 408” is San Jose’s area code and the city is
“down” with Oakland – “down” being the term to describe the city’s alliance and allegiance.
Footage of Oakland’s police officers clearly state who the enemy is – the police. Images of East
Oakland streets (i.e., International Boulevard and the intersection of Foothill and

23rd

) follow the

song’s chorus and emcee Vudoo announces “East Oakland, I got this baby. Free Tanibal” – a
declaration of his East Oakland pride and a pledge of allegiance to one of the Gookstaz’s jailed
emcees. Vudoo’s verse continues the song’s violent theme:
I put it down for my city,
East Oakland to the graveyard,

103

Come where I come bitch,
You gotta have a brave heart,
Never would I run,
No pussy aw hell nah,
I gotta a chopper that would knock your fucking head off.
A “chopper” is an automatic rifle, in this case an AK-47, which is mimicked by the emcee as he
aims an imaginary rifle at the camera as he raps his verse.
Violence is also reflected by emcees describing the Bay Area’s low-income
neighborhoods and the Bay Area’s infamous history. The Game Go (2011) features a multiracial
crew of emcee’s rapping in San Francisco’s Tenderloin District. Mint Rock stands on the corner
of Hyde and Eddy and raps:
The Bay Area,
Is more like hysteria,
Dope fiends will take care ya,
And bury ya,
The more the merrier,
Killer like Jim Jones,
On a crusade,
Serving up some Kool Aid.

“Dope fiends” are a common sight in the Tenderloin District where drug dealers sell crack and
heroin. The emcee critiques the deceptive allure of San Francisco’s hippy culture by referencing

104

reverend Jim Jones (1931-1978) who was responsible for the death of many of his followers –
many of whom were from the Bay Area.
Bay Area pride also manifests in the videos of emcees that show an affinity for its
neighborhoods. Bored Stiff’s Media (2007), for example, features the multiracial crew
throughout San Francisco’s many neighborhoods. The video begins with the camera lens in
outer space zooming into the Bay Area and landing on the corner of

18th

and Mission at the

Smoke City cigarette shop. Inside the shop, Japanese-Columbian American emcee Equipto asks
for two “swishers” (cigars) as his phone chimes the tune of deceased Vallejo rapper Mac Dre’s
“Feelin Myself” (2006). He answers a call to come into the studio as images of San Francisco’s
vibrant graffiti scene fills the screen. This is followed by the emcee waiting for a MUNI
streetcar. The route of the streetcar is shown on a map that is cleverly edited to reflect the
emcee’s destination – a motif that is repeated by each emcee’s verse. Emcee Mic follows
Equipto’s verse by rapping, “so fuck the media, remember you don’t have to wear a Yankee hat
for hip-hop to believe in ya” while placing a San Francisco Giants baseball cap on his daughter’s
head. The verse indicates a raw pride that is less reliant on hip-hop’s birthplace, New York, and
more so upon its homegrown Bay Area talent.
Bay Area pride also surfaces in EyeASage’s “Heart of the City” (2008). The Filipina
emcee begins the short rap from her mixtape Married to the Hustle (2008) by giving shout outs
to various San Francisco neighborhood’s: Excelsior, SOMA, and the Mission District –
neighborhoods with high concentrations of Filipino Americans. She continues by rapping about
seeing graffiti while waiting for the 18 MUNI bus and “learning her game” in Potrero Hill. This
is followed by playing with friends in “Hunters Point, Lakeview, Sunnydale, (and) Fillmore.”

105

The song’s chorus features a sample of Bobby “Blue” Bland’s “Ain’t No Love In The Heart Of
The City” (1974) over which the emcee raps:
Ain’t no love in the city,
It ain’t pretty,
Ain’t no love in the town,
We’re still around though.
EyeASage also defends her city pride with imagery found within her mixtape. For example, the
emcee is featured smiling wearing make up, tank top and jewelry while holding a

M-16

.

Asian American emcees also reveal their Bay Area pride by acknowledging the
neighborhoods they grew up in and detailing the obstacles they faced. Mint Rock’s video
Growing Up Poor (2010), for example, features the emcee rapping about growing up in the lowincome neighborhood of San Francisco’s Fillmore District:
Growing up didn’t have enough,
Five older brothers fighting over stuff,
It was all tough even though it was love,
Didn’t have nobody, just us, but us,
Lend me some money,
I’m gonna pay you back,
Let me sport that shirt,
I need something black,
My HP partners showed me how to roll craps,
Now I’m soaking up game from the Mac,
Back in Fillmore,

106

Lower Haight to be exact,
You can find me there,
Prevalent like crack.
The lyrics describe the situation many low-income youth of the Bay Area face – a lack of
material items that leads to altercations, the borrowing of items and money, and ultimately
gambling. The “HP” is short for Hunters Point – a predominately black low-income
neighborhood of San Francisco. Both the “HP” and Mint Rock’s neighborhood of the Lower
Haight in the Fillmore District are areas of which low-income housing and drug dealing features
prominently.
Asian American emcees display a pride for the Bay Area that disrupts notions of Asians
258

being perpetual foreigners.

The videos of each emcee and crew root Asian American emcees

as Bay Area natives. Their embrace of Bay Area sports teams, neighborhoods, and districts
showcase a pride for the Bay Area that is sometimes defended through violent imagery. The
violence of Mistah Roger’s Down For Our City, for example, displaces notions Asian American
passivity through a hyper-masculine guise that simultaneously challenges the model minority
myth. By reflecting the harsh reality of life in the low-income neighborhoods of Oakland and
San Francisco, Asian American emcees offer an alternative view to the widely held belief of
Asian American’s being a “problem-free” minority.

The Independents: A Peak Into the Bay Area Underground Scene

How you livin’? I say, “sucka free.” – Bored Stiff
259

We’ve always been together on this independent hustle. – Nump

107

We’re gonna have to start our own shit and blow-up independently because no
artists-&-repertoire is gonna say ‘we need to go out there and find ourselves some
Asian rappers.’ – Lyrics Born

260

I’m dancing with my friends amongst a crew of backpackers – khaki, hooded sweatshirt, cap or
beanie, and backpack wearing underground hip-hop fans – at the Maritime Hall catching a show
by the Bay Area hip-hop collective the Living Legends. We bounce in unison to the chorus of
“Nowuno” (1997):
Freely in a standstill,
Patience wearing thin,
So we wait, but we don’t,
So we ain’t slow rollin’ through the Yay,
As we raise fine art through this origin hip-hop.
The lyrics express the independent ethos that characterizes many Bay Area (“the Yay”) hip-hop
releases. Emcee Sunspot Jonz raps:
Half those arrogant DJs got our shit but don't play it,
Leavin’ underground and emcees feelin’ mad and a little underrated,
I hated givin’ a DJ my shit,
But he wanna ride the East Coast dick.
The Living Legends label, Revenge Entertainment, declared war on the commercial hip-hop
through their sharp commentaries on radio stations and their DJs preference for East Coast hip-

108

hop. The Living Legends defense of the underground hip-hop scene, however, extends far
beyond the confines of the Bay Area.
At the same concert, I stopped dancing as Arata, an emcee from Japan, took his turn at
the mic to rap entire verses in Japanese. I was not the only one in attendance whose jaw dropped
to the floor during Arata’s delivery. Soon a thunderous applause arose from the audience while
emcee Sunspot Jonz announced to the crowd, “this is hip-hop worldwide!” Much later Arata
released The Way I Live (2005) on the Living Legends label Legendary Music. The album is
significant since the entire album is rapped in Japanese. The inclusion of Arata within the Living
Legends fold speaks to the welcoming environment of the Bay Area underground hip-hop scene.
Japanese American hip-hop emcees feature prominently throughout this section to reveal
how their ethnicity and/or nationality manifests throughout their releases. By investigating songs
and videos by Shing02, the SCOJourners crew, and Equipto this section will reveal how
Japanese American emcees support each other’s efforts. In addition, I will reveal how the
aforementioned artists network with other Bay Area hip-hop crews and artists to highlight the
supportive network of the underground scene. Finally, I will show how the tight-knit
underground scene reflects the multiracial composition of the Bay Area.
Shing02 is a Japanese American emcee and producer whose career speaks to the transient
nature of the Bay Area hip-hop scene. Shing02 was born in Tokyo, Japan and raised abroad in
England, Tanzania, until later moving to California. While at school in Berkeley in the early
1990s, Shing02 found himself immersed in the local hip-hop scene and soon began to produce
his own releases including Laid in Japan (1998), Pearl Harbor EP (1999) in addition to
collaborating with emcees Murs of Living Legends, EL-P of Company Flow, and Yeshua
Dapoed on the twelve inch single “A Day Like Any Other” (1998).

109

Shing02’s lyrics rapped in English and/or Japanese question U.S. imperialism and such
topics regulate his releases to the hip-hop underground. His song “Pearl Harbor” (1998)
feature’s emcee Bas-1 who interrogates the slogan “Never Forget” by juxtaposing the dropping
of atomic bombs on Nagasaki and Hiroshima to Pearl Harbor: “the creation of the atom bomb
who the fuck to drop it on? Japan, the only non-European.” Shing02 follows Bas-1’s verse by
rapping a verse through the eyes of a kamikaze pilot:
I'm a lone pilot,
Equipped with the Zero,
In my mother land,
They honor me as a hero…
And yes, I do remember the 7th day of December,
Being patriotic in an idiotic war,
Now what the hell was I fighting for!?
Shing02 morphs from a Kamikaze pilot into an emcee:
1998,
Japanese emcee engaging in battle,
Perfect composure,
Forget the path of overnight sensation,
The final destination, world conquer…
I think globally and rap locally,
The freak Asian breaking down the equation,
E=MC squared?
Nah, me equal emcees scared because I explode atomically,

110

Emcee’s break down comically get dropped automatically,
The force connecting the pacific is called hip-hop,
One nation indivisible in an invisible war,
Now what the fuck are you fighting for!?
The emcee’s juxtaposition of Pearl Harbor to battles within hip-hop culture speaks to the futility
of all wars. The lyrics, however, emphasize Shing02’s Japanese ancestry and race (Asian). He
cleverly turns the model minority trope of the math wizard (“E=MC squared”) on its head by
excelling as an emcee. Furthermore, the lyric’s emphasis of “forget[ing] the path of overnight
sensation” reinforces the emcees independent stance by discrediting hip-hop trends. Shing02
embodies independent hip-hop since he has never had a contract with an American label.
Instead, he released albums through the Japanese independent label Mary Joy Recordings. As a
result, his fan-base is limited to those who can afford hip-hop imports.
ScoJourners are a Japanese American hip-hop crew from San Francisco. Their name is a
twist on the term “sojourners” that describes those of Asian ancestry who migrated to the States
with the intention of returning to their home country.

261

Skitz the Samurida shares how they

came up with the crew’s name:
In 2004 we took our first trip out to Japan. All of us just on our own. We made a
few contacts on that trip. We come back to the States, and all the sudden I get a
phone call. A promoter out there [Japan] wants us to get out their quick. So we
all hop on a flight to Japan and get out there. And still at that time we were all
independent artists. We hadn’t formed the group ScoJourners, but we were in
Japan. Estairy had Hybrid (2003) out, Curt Sak had Go 4 Broke (2003), so we

111

were in Japan in late 2004 and we decided ‘let’s form a group.’ Curt Sak came up
with the name ScoJourners.

262

Max continues, “All of our ancestors who came to North America – they were basically
sojourners just like how we came east to west, you know, we are coming from the west to branch
out to all over the world. Soujourners from the SCO (San Francisco).”

263

The ScoJourners’ video for Independent Hustle (2008) documents the crew selling their
releases on the streets the Upper Haight District of San Francisco. In one scene, Skitz is filmed
entering Amoeba Records with a box of CDs and later exiting without them suggesting that he
sold them at the store.

264

African American singer Mike Marshall sings the song’s chorus:

You don’t know me,
This life I live ain’t easy,
I’ve been working these streets…
And I’m all around the world selling these CDs.
The video’s cameos from Equipto, Mint Rock, and the rest of the Bored Stiff crew not only
asserts the ScoJourners’ independent spirit but also speaks to the supportive characteristic of the
Bay Area hip-hop underground network.
Equipto is a Japanese-Columbian emcee of the Bored Stiff crew – an independent hiphop collective from San Francisco that was formed in 1992. The group founded its own record
label Hella Records in 1995 before establishing Bored Stiff Entertainment in 2008. Equipto
currently releases recordings on his label Solidarity Records – “The Peoples Label.” Equipto
and his fellow emcees of the Bored Stiff crew often employ the term “Sucka Free” to distance
themselves from mainstream hip-hop’s mediocrity by remaining independent. Equipto’s “HipHop Iz” (2004) describes the “cutthroat” climate of the hip-hop industry:

112

Hip-Hop is,
A gigantic market,
Control your fan-base,
And know who to target,
Doing it worldwide,
But I ain’t no star yet,
I’m in the record store still trying to bargain,
Play the game starving,
But pay my rhymes,
Buy the CDs,
I don’t fuck with consignment,
To all you rap cats trying to get major,
Save your paper,
Pray for a savior.
The lyrics describe the situation many independent emcees face: a reluctance for record stores to
carry their releases. This is echoed by Equipto’s verse at the end of The Game Go:
I tried to tell you man,
They want to sell you dreams,
The industry scheme.
This distrust of the hip-hop industry grants the emcee a considerable amount of credibility from
Bay Area underground hip-hop artists particularly Andre Nickatina (formerly Dre Dog).
Equipto’s four albums – Midnight Machine Gun Rhymes and Alibis (2002), Horns and Halos
(2005), Gun-Mouth 4 Hire: Horns and Halos 2 (2005) and Bullet Symphony: Horns and Halos 3

113

(2006) – with the black emcee indicates Equipto’s appeal amongst Bay Area independent hiphop fans since their collaborations are held in high regard.
Equipto, however, acknowledges his multiracial and multiethnic upbringing. The emcee
acknowledges “Benihana’s in Japantown” in “Heart & Soul” (2011) and his Columbian mother
in “Woman Of My Life” (2000). His Japanese ancestry may be muted in comparison to the
emcees of the ScoJourners and Shing02, however, his collaborations with the aforementioned
artists in combination with his frequent cameos with fellow emcee Mint Rock suggests a strong
supportive Asian American hip-hop network.
The collaborations between the emcees discussed in this section suggest a strong network
between the Bay Area’s emcees of Japanese ancestry. For example, the ScoJourners’ website
promotes Shing02’s album For the Tyme Being (2009) that features the track “Hero” produced
by the ScoJourners. The ScoJourners’ self-titled album (2011) also features contributions by
Equipto and Shing02. Equipto also appears throughout Estairy’s Hybrid (2003) and Curt Sak’s
Go 4 Broke (2003). In addition, Filipino American producer Ayeweezy’s production and
musical contributions to the ScoJourners’ debut, Estairy and Skitz’ The Premiere (2009), Skitz
the Samurida’s Control the Mic, Control the Masses (2004), and Bored Stiff’s The Sad Truth
(2008) and Timeless (1996) suggests a larger pan-Asian American network.
A number of collaborations between Asian American emcees and other underground Bay
Area hip-hop artists indicate the tight-knit and supportive network of the multiracial scene. For
example, the Solidarity Records label compilation Profound (2010) features tracks by Equipto,
ScoJourners, the Mystick Journeymen and Gas Mask Colony and reflects the multiracial
composition of the scene. The liner notes of Mint Rock’s eponymous release (2005) includes
shout outs to the Living Legends, Bored Stiff, DJs Qbert and Apollo, as well as deceased graffiti

114

artist Dream and fellow TDK member Spie continues this trend. Contributions by Equipto,
Dubee, E-40 and the Federation to Nump’s The Nump Yard (2005) indicates how the Bay Area’s
most successful emcees support local talent.
The close-knit underground Bay Area hip-hop scene provides a supportive network that
serves as a conduit for the distribution of releases. For example, in the winter of 2010, I attended
a party in Daly City. Amongst those in attendance were many Filipinas who distribute and
manufacture clothes for Hiero Imperium – the company of Hieroglyphics – an East Oakland hiphop crew featuring Del Tha Funkee Homosapien, Souls of Mischief and Casual. The women
wore hooded sweatshirts emblazoned with the Hieroglyphics logo sold as “Hiero Hoodies.”
Later that evening, emcee Pac-Man of the Savage Committee handed me his latest release
Hustle4Everything (2008). The CD, like many of those discussed in this chapter, wears its Bay
Area pride on its sleeve through the use of local slang, fashion, and/or lyrical content – all
significant qualifiers that build upon an artist’s credibility and further a unique Bay Area
sensibility.
The underground hip-hop scene of the Bay Area supports local talent many of which are
Asian American emcees. The scene’s motto of living “sucka free” serves as a day-to-day
reminder of the precarious position Asian American emcee’s face in the light of commercial hiphop. Emcees form collectives and collaborate with the larger underground community. Mystik
Journeymen’s Broke Assed Summer Jam, for example, served as an alternative to KMEL’s
annual Summer Jam concert and featured a number of underground crews and emcees among
them Equipto. Such events suggest that the underground scene will continue to thrive and excel
in opposition to mainstream commercial hip-hop.
Going “Dumb” and Spreading Knowledge: Asian American Hip-Hop Artists and Genres

115

This section will investigate two hip-hop genres in which Asian Americans participate – the
Hyphy Movement and conscious hip-hop – to reveal how each genre erects differing sets of
expectations rooted in hip-hop authenticity. By analyzing the videos by emcees of Asian Pacific
Islander descent, I will reveal how each artist maintains their hip-hop credibility by fulfilling
expectations dictated by the genre in which they perform. In so doing, I show how difficult it is
to create a singular Asian American hip-hop aesthetic.
The Hyphy Movement
In the Bay,
We Go Hyphy,
Stupid Dumb,
Hyphy. – Mistah F.A.B.

Scraper on dubs,
Going dummy in the club,
Switching four lanes,
I’m the boss in the game. – Bailey
I Got Grapes! – Nump
I am about to go to bed in my basement apartment on 7th Street in Oakland, California on the
outskirts of Chinatown near Laney College. While tucking myself into bed, I hear the sounds of
a number of automobiles with engines revving and tires screeching. People howls are
punctuated by beats and rhymes fighting to be heard amongst the madness. Soon, these

116

“scrapers” (tricked out or embellished GM automobiles) with “dubs” (large chrome mag-wheels)
start a rodeo-like affair in the middle of the Laney College parking lot. Soon the revelers “go
dumb” or “get stupid” by dancing and yelling as they watch the scrapers do donuts, figure eights,
and/or whip around the parking lot. Many onlookers may roll a “bleezy” (a hallowed out cigar
filled with marijuana) and/or smoke “grapes” (marijuana). Within minutes police sirens can be
heard in the distance and the scrapers quickly leave the parking lot onto 7th street to Highway
880 to evade the patrol cars. This is just another night in Oakland – the sideshow capital of the
world and the flagship of the Hyphy Movement.
E-40’s “Tell Me When To Go” (2006) brought the Hyphy Movement to national
attention and its lyrics reflect Bay Area slang that highlights most hyphy songs. For example, E40’s verse offers insights into Bay Area slang:
Some Henny,
Some Swishers and Listerine Strips,
Doctor Green Thumb lips,
Just to ease my thoughts.
The aforementioned lyrics are coded words for drinking and marijuana: “Henny” is short for
Hennessey, “Swishers” are Swisher Sweets Cigars, “Doctor Green Thumb” is medical
marijuana, and “Listerine Strips” are used to cleanse the mouth of alcohol and marijuana.
Within this section, I am interested in how Asian American emcees of the Hyphy Movement
utilize Bay Area slang that challenges the model minority myth. By investigating videos and
songs by the Gookstaz, Nump, and Haji Springer, I will reveal how these artists immersion in the
Hyphy Movement roots Asian emcees as Bay Area natives and thereby challenges perceptions of
Asians as perpetual foreigners.

117

Asian American emcees of the Hyphy Movement employ Bay Area drug slang in order to
achieve a level of authenticity amongst its fans. Lovin Dat Taste (2010), a video by the
Gookstaz, opens with a pair of hands in a bag of marijuana. A voice exclaims, “See, that’s what
real weed looks like because back home that shit looks fucked up. That’s a thick bitch right
there!” Emcee Vudoo holds a bottle of “Henny” and wears a t-shirt that reads, “Planet of the
Grapes.” He stands with a gender inclusive crew in front of an SUV emblazoned with Gookstaz
stickers parked in the parking lot of the Oakland Coliseum. Singer Nini raps,
We just wanna get high,
All day so the time pass by,
Back to back,
Twisting up sacks,
The town where we have the best grapes at,
Smoke another blunt to my face,
I’ll break her down right now,
Smoke grapes,
And blow out thick like clouds.
The lyrics of the song reflect the high concentration of medical marijuana stores in Oakland – a
city now popularly known as Oaksterdam (a combination of Amsterdam and Oakland).

265

The

Gookstaz embracement of marijuana not only grants them a certain amount of street credibility
but also challenges notions of Asian Americans as model minorities.
Nump’s “I Got Grapes” (2005) was the first Bay Area hip-hop song to employ the code
word “grapes” for marijuana. The song, featuring E-40 and the Federation, is an ode to “Purple”
(a strain of marijuana). Nump raps:

118

Yeah I’m from the Bay,
Planet of the apes,
Home of the purple kush,
Home of the grapes.
The chorus asks, “who got purple?” and Nump answers screaming, “I got grapes!” The song’s
popularity reached South Asian emcee M.I.A. who later remixed the song as “Legalize My
Medicine” (2009). The remix, produced by E-40’s son Droop-E, features the emcee rapping
about “Purple Power.” She raps the chorus: “down there in my garden, I keep my trees hidden
like Bin Laden.” Her collaboration with Nump not only suggests the influence of the Hyphy
Movement long after the success of E-40’s “Tell Me When To Go,” but also a larger supportive
Asian American network amongst its emcees.
Haji Springer is a Desi emcee whose videos and CDs confront stereotypes of South
Asians as model minorities. The self-proclaimed “Indian rapper” who runs “the West” appears
on tracks by Bay Area emcees Mistah F.A.B., Keak Da Sneak, and San Quinn. He appears
throughout the DVD Smoke-N-Thizz (2006) smoking marijuana, showing off his medical
marijuana card, and announcing “Yadada” – a variation of “Yadaimean” which is Bay Area
slang for the phrase “you know what I’m saying?” The cover of his release entitled Hurry Up &
Buy (2009) employs the South Asian liquor storeowner trope (i.e., see Apu of The Simpsons) and
features the emcee behind a shop counter surrounded by products branded as “Haji’s.” The
Haji’s brand is clearly marketed towards junk food junkies and/or marijuana smokers who seek
“Crunchie Munchies,” “Cigarillos,” “Cheezy Nibbles,” an array of lighters, and/or bottles of
liquor.

119

Haji asserts his identity as a South Asian emcee from the Bay Area as an alternative to
the materialist trends pervasive throughout the “Indo Chic” trend. Sandhu (2004) writes that
“Indian people” were “blatantly missing from this trend” and Springer’s releases signal a
reversal of this phenomenon.

266

Haji, however, employs a stereotypical persona as indicated by

his use of a think accent in Mac Dre’s posthumous DVD release Treal T.V. #2 (2006). The
emcee states, “Thizz TV Buddy! I’m Haji Springer – the horse my friend. The terrorist rapper
representing for Thizz buddy.” He continues by speaking in an Indian dialect that is translated
and subtitled into hyphy slang: “For furl is why we stay ballin’ out of control and have more
cheese than Velveeta. Treal TV. Thizz Ent. You Beezy!” “Furl” is the nickname of deceased
Vallejo rapper Mac Dre who released albums on “Thizz Ent(ertainment).” “Ballin’ out of
control” is slang for making a lot of money. Thus, Haji acknowledges the importance of Mac
Dre on his own career. “Beezy” is a Bay Area slang word for “bitch” – a word which was
popularized by Oakland rapper Too $hort in the 1980s. In combination, the emcee’s use of local
slang grounds him as an emcee from the Bay Area who makes more “cheese” (money) than
“Velveeta.”
The death of Mac Dre (1974-2004), the figurehead of the Hyphy Movement, led many
fans to wonder if the scene would carry on. Some discredited the movement as being nothing
more than a gimmick; however, its influence and longevity seven years after Mac Dre’s death
proves otherwise. The cultural industries that sprung forth after his death – CDs, DVDs,
bobblehead dolls, and masks – in addition to numerous graffiti murals dedicated to the artist
serves as a testimony to the longevity of the scene. More importantly, the scene’s inclusion of
Asian American emcees Haji Springer, Nump and the Gookstaz crew indicates an undeniable
Bay Area hip-hop aesthetic that reflects its multiracial and multiethnic composition. For its

120

Asian American emcees and crews, the Hyphy Movement, serves as an outlet to stake claim to
“the Yay” (the Bay Area) by employing the scene’s vernacular.

Conscious Hip-Hop

In the early 1990s “gangsta rap” became an exploitable trope within the hip-hop industry.
Originating from Southern California, this manufactured genre became widely popular largely
due to the success of N.W.A. and its emcees (Ice Cube, Dr. Dre and Eazy E) whose careers
paved the way for the careers of Snoop Dog and Warren G.

267

In Oakland, 2Pac, formerly of

Digital Underground, symbolized “Thug Life” and resistance by penning insightful lyrics that
reflected the environment of the Bay Area’s low-income neighborhoods. By the mid-1990s,
however, the “gangsta” trope morphed due to the popularity of releases originating from New
York that detailed the pursuit of material wealth by any means.

268

This led to a notorious battle

for hip-hop supremacy between the West and East Coasts and resulted in the death of two of
their respective emcees – 2Pac and Notorious B.I.G.

269

Beneath the bicoastal rivalry, however, was an emerging underground hip-hop scene that
flourished on a national scale. The underground’s insightful lyrics relied less on bravado and
more on intellect offered an alternative to mainstream hip-hop’s obsession with material wealth.
On the West Coast this included crews and groups such as the Living Legends, Hieroglyphics,
Hobo Junction, Bored Stiff, Dilated Peoples and People Under The Stairs. On the East Coast,
this included emcees Mos Def and Talib Kweli, the crew Company Flow and the record labels
270

Fondel ’Em, Rawkus and Wordsound.

The assertion of underground hip-hop’s independent

spirit, however, created a genre – conscious hip-hop – that shunned mainstream hip-hop culture

121

through the establishment of independent labels. This new trope later morphed into the elitist
term “backpacker” to describe college educated underground hip-hop fans.
The ethnicities of Asian American emcees impact their ability to achieve mainstream
success and thereby regulate them to the hip-hop underground. Emcees are often looked upon as
“cultural ambassadors” that speak on behalf of the larger Asian American community and/or its
271

many ethnicities.

This situation influences the artistic direction of many emcees that insert

the experiences of Asian Pacific Islanders within their lyrics. For example, “Learn Chinese”
(2003) was Jin’s attempt to break into the mainstream by rapping in Cantonese and English;
however, the single failed to resonate with U.S. audiences despite being signed by the Ruff
Ryders.
Asian American emcees rely on college campuses and community organizations across
the country to access their culturally-activated fan-base. For example, the successful careers of
Denizen Kane, the Pacifics, Blue Scholars, and Native Guns are inextricably tied to
performances on college campuses with Asian American student groups. These student groups
have linkages to the greater Asian American community based organizations that represent
potential venues. In turn, the content of their songs – ethnic pride, identity politics, mobilization,
and resistance – reflect the ideals of their fan-base who interprets such offerings as a display of
consciousness. Within this section, I will analyze the songs and videos of a number of Asian
American hip-hop artists – Curt Sak, Jona Chung, Kiwi, Equipto, and Rocky Rivera – to reveal
how consciousness manifests differently in their releases.
Curt Sak, a Japanese American emcee of the ScoJourners, expresses ethnic consciousness
throughout his release Go 4 Broke (2004). The title of the album is a reference to the 442nd
infantry regiment – an all Japanese American regiment that fought in Europe during WWII while

122

Japanese Americans in the U.S. were incarcerated in internment camps.

272

On the track “West

Coast Offense” the emcee praises his family for the sacrifices they’ve made in order to survive in
San Francisco:
Walking through the streets,
My whole family felt the heat,
Born and raised in the SF City,
Since 1975,
My grandparents since 1935,
Real Frisco souls,
That gave me what I know.
This acknowledgement of sacrifice also extends to the emcee’s extended family members. For
example, “On The Strength,” a collaborative track featuring Equipto, documents the friendship
between the emcees of Japanese ancestry. The song starts with Curt Sak praising his “folks”:
Thanks to my folks for taking time out of their lives,
And having the foresight,
To teach us what’s real,
Culture and history is how things get ill,
Sometimes we didn’t listen though hardheaded lessons,
That keeps me stressing.
The emcee’s salutations can be read as a “shout out” to his parents and/or an acknowledgment of
the influence of his extended family. The line “culture and history is how things get ill”
indicates the transmission of knowledge between his family members (familial or extended) and
serve as cautionary tales for the younger generation. Equipto furthers this interpretation by

123

rapping: “reminiscing of times of innocence, living the life too fast to give a shit.” The lyrics
suggest the emcees went through formative experiences that changed the direction of their lives.
The chorus of “Goin Thru It,” rapped by fellow SCOJourner emcee Skitz, continues this trend:
Goin’ thru it,
Is the only way to do it,
Each day try to use it for what you are pursuing,
Appreciate the struggle for what it’s worth,
Define the true reason why you was put on this Earth.
Thus, Curt Sak’s lyrics indicate a raw sense of purpose influenced by knowledge shared through
his kin (fictive and familial).
Kiwi’s Imagine (2008) serves as an exemplary example of conscious hip-hop that
acknowledges the Bay Area’s diverse populations and social activism. The video features the
Filipino American emcee in Oakland’s neighborhoods rapping about the possibility of systemic
change. The following lines indicates Kiwi’s consciousness:
I guess it’s bigger than just music,
It’s easier for us to sing than just to do it,
I’m trying to flip that and start with me,
And I won’t stop until we all are free,
Love peace and harmony for every living creature,
Just imagine if we can make the Earth a little greener,
A place with more schools and no prisons,
What if we took a flame to the whole damn system?
Imagine.

124

The lyrics root the emcee deep within social activist circles of the Bay Area. Various races,
ethnicities, and genders rap Kiwi’s lyrics throughout Imagine. This is achieved by clever editing
techniques that reflect Oakland’s diverse population. In addition, women breakers feature
prominently throughout the video. The inclusion of murals of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Mike
“Dream” Francisco (both found in Oakland) grants the emcee a certain amount credibility that
fosters a sense of authenticity among his fans. This is furthered by the emcee’s use of a sample
of a speech by Martin Luther King, Jr. on military spending: “A nation that continues year after
year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is heading
towards spiritual doom.”
Jona Chung acknowledges the Bay Area’s rich history of resistance in his video What
Really Makes You? (2010). The beginning of the video features images of San Francisco’s
Tenderloin, Oscar Grant, a sidewalk memorial flanked by a police car, protests at city hall,
images of the Black Panther Party (BPP) and fliers calling for the release of the San Francisco
Eight – eight jailed BPP members. The video’s release came after the jury found Johannes
Mehserle guilty of involuntary manslaughter for the shooting of Oscar Grant. Coinciding with
this unpopular verdict, a number of fliers requesting the release of the SF8 were posted
throughout San Francisco. Jona asserts his independence by declaring mainstream hip-hop as
“pure garbage.” An alternative reading of the song’s title and the opening sequence of images
suggest that the song is a call to mobilize the masses during times of civil unrest.
Equipto’s “Subliminal” (2010) expresses a consciousness as indicated by the emcee’s
indictment of the hip-hop industry and the status quo. He shares his evolution as an activist and
emcee by rapping:
I use to blame the white man then I blame the government,

125

Now I see it’s deeper than that – I’m on some other shit.
My mind moves with the hands of time,
Never catch me asking why,
Guess it’s time to go to the mothership,
Strategize or you can bow down and compromise,
This is not a lie man – we can really colonize,
Think ahead cuz everything is sink or swim,
See who’s your family and who’s there through the thick and thin.
The emcee asserts his evolution as an activist by dismissing reactionaries blaming the “white
man” and “the government” by creating a network of like-minded individuals through strategic
mobilization. This infers that the Bored Stiff collective serves as an alternative support network.
Without such a supportive framework Equipto declares emcees will “compromise” and “sink.”
He continues,
A sign of the times,
Falling the victim,
If you don’t fight you are just part of the system,
It’s divide and conquer,
The lies and the gossip…
And we lost in this world when we keep on frontin’
But this mic ain’t shit unless we speak on somethin’.
The lyrics provide insight into the emcee’s consciousness and the power of hip-hop to mobilize
the masses. It also speaks to the pressure independent emcees face to remain relevant in the eyes

126

of their fans. This is achieved by rapping about social issues and an overhaul of the system
whether it is within the hip-hop industry or society.
Rocky Rivera, a Filipina emcee, also known as EyeASage, employs an acute awareness
of gender roles in the videos Trick Habit (2010) and Girl Like Me (2011). Trick Habit begins
with a woman watching her boyfriend play video games while she cooks a pot roast. Enraged by
her boyfriend’s lack of attention she notices a newspaper advertisement that reads, “Hey Ladies!
Need Help With Your Man? Fix Your Man.” Rocky Rivera appears animated within the
newspaper advertisement and sings the song’s chorus:
Hang up the chick habit,
Hang it up daddy,
Or you’ll be alone in a quick.
Hang up the chick habit,
Hang it up daddy,
Or you’ll never get another fix.
I’m telling you it’s not a trick,
Pay attention,
Don’t be thick,
Or you’re liable to get licked,
You’re gonna see the reason why,
When they are spitting in your eye.
The chorus is a response to men who mistreat women by being unfaithful. “Tricks” in this case
refers to men who denigrate women as nothing more than play things who are unaware of their
philandering. The emcee, hired by the unhappy woman, spikes a root beer of the video gamer

127

only to later find himself tortured in A Clockwork Orange (1971) fashion – he is strapped to a
table with his eyes forced open with an apparatus as he watches a screen which reads, “Together,
Communication and OBEY.” This is followed by the emcee removing her captive’s brain with a
saw and the following morning, the patient shows up on the customer’s doorstep smiling with
flowers and a face full of stitches.
Alternatively, Rocky Rivera’s Girl Like Me employs the emcee’s sexuality by presenting
her scantily clothed; however, the song’s lyrics attack men’s perceptions of women:
So you see her in a video,
Grinding in a mini skirt,
Bragging to your boys about the things,
You want to do to her,
Oh Boy,
You’re just a sucker for a dutty wife,
Pulling all the dutty gals,
Thinking we got dutty minds.
“Dutty” is Jamaican patois for “dirty,” and the use of the slang term is furthered by the sample of
dancehall artist Tanya Stephens’ “It’s a Pity” (2004). The message of the emcee’s song is
echoed by African American emcee Raka Dun who contributed a dancehall style verse to the
song’s conclusion. Such an alliance suggests Rocky Rivera caters to an inclusive audience that
not only embraces men but also strives to educate them through lyrical content.
In sum, the lyrics and videos of Asian American emcees reveal how authenticity
manifests differently throughout their releases. Emcees express consciousness in the form of
ethnic pride, an awareness of gender roles, an acknowledgement of the Bay Area’s progressive

128

history, and/or an indictment of the status quo to cater to its culturally-activated fan-base. In
turn, such songs characterize the Asian American hip-hop scene and these songs offer an
alternative vision that strives for systemic change.

Conclusion
At a time when public schools were cutting or obliterating arts programs across
the country, hip-hop became the alternative, emerging, according to one hip-hop
pioneer, as the greatest social program of the twentieth century.

273

What about cultural power and ownership? If Def Jam, No Limit, and Jay-Z
empires are examples of this revolution in the for-profit world, then what will the
revolution look like in the not-for-profit world? Will not-for-profit institutions
co-opt hip-hop culture into their programming and hoard grant money without
really giving up any power? Will hip-hop art at not-for-profit venues become
274

highbrow and distant from its intended audience?

In the early 2000s, two Asian American Community Based Organizations – Asian Health
Services Youth Program (AHSYP) and Chinatown Beacon Center (CBC) – implemented hiphop education programs for youth.

275

AHSYP held its program in Oakland’s Chinatown and its

workshops included DJ-ing, emceeing, spray painting and breakdancing. The director of the
program recalls hiring credible and respected talent:

129

You had to get people who are respected. You had to get named people. The
instructors were all Filipino. You had to give [participants] the ‘bling’ factor for
everything. We had to give [participants] credibility. You could not just bring in
anybody.

276

The list of credible talent included the Supernatural Turntable Artists (STA), breakdancer Gizmo
of FM20 and the Golden State Warriors Hoop Troop, and videographers of the contemporary
Asian import car scene. The program’s credible talent proved to attract youth and its subsequent
success led to the continuance of the program for an additional three years. CBC, however,
implemented a program that hired a number lesser-known instructors and according to one staff
member lured youth into the program with the “hip-hop tag.”

277

He recalls his fellow staff

member’s misunderstanding of hip-hop culture manifesting in a staged performance by youth:
[The Staff] had hip-hop dances where the girls would learn the dances [of popular
music] videos. [Youth] were dancing like Beyonce and moving their hips like
Shakira. [Gordon J. Lau staff] were like whoa! This [was] totally unacceptable.
Beacon Center got upset that we said that. We can’t show this to parents. And
the reasoning behind that was that we were the ones dealing with the parents. It
[was] inappropriate [for] Chinatown.

278

His recollections speak to the larger issue of hip-hop authenticity within the Bay Area scene. In
other words, the success of an afterschool hip-hop program was inextricably tied to an
understanding of hip-hop’s cultural expectation of authenticity. Respect and knowledge of hiphop history, therefore, grants afterschool programs a certain amount of credibility.
Authenticity manifests in the conversations of Asian American hip-hop fans. For
example, I recall having a conversation with a fellow Filipino American DJ about Asian

130

Americans making hip-hop releases. Our conversation was highlighted by the exchange of
knowledge that usually takes place between hip-hop heads – the delivery of the emcee, beat
making, use of samples, labels, and/or the distribution of releases. Upon showing an affinity for
a number of emcees of Asian Pacific Islander ancestry contributing to the Hyphy Movement, I
was surprised when the DJ said he was not impressed since I was under the impression that DJs
of Asian Pacific Islander ancestry support Asian American hip-hop artists.
My conversation with the DJ over Asian American tastes evokes the difficulties
regarding the creation of an Asian American hip-hop aesthetic. On the surface, it appears that
Asian Americans perform primarily in activist circles catering to liberal Asian American and
particularly Filipino American audiences. The number of fliers, websites, and/or videos devoted
to such acts as Kiwi, Bambu, Geologic, Nomi, and Tha Kasamas, confirm such beliefs.
However, below the surface, there are a number of emcees – Haji Springer, the Gookstaz, Nump,
and Mistah Roger – that do not fit the politicized stylings of their progressive contemporaries.
This is largely due in part to two differing definitions of authenticity dictated by the genre in
which emcees participate. For the Hyphy Movement authenticity manifests in Bay Area slang
that not only codes drug use and the sideshow scene, but also speaks to the rich language created
by its multiracial and multiethnic population. For example, while walking through Oakland’s
Chinatown, I watched a diverse population of preschool youth walking across the street. A black
youth called his fellow classmate a “chigga” as a term of endearment. As a youth mentor, I
recall a youth’s instant messenger name being “chigga510” – 510 designating his East Bay area
code. Such occurrences speak to the influence Bay Area emcees have on their fans but also the
rich cultural exchanges between African and Asian American youth who create and adopt their
own language.

131

The investigation of releases by Bay Area emcees of Asian Pacific Islander descent
reveal a pride for the Bay Area’s history of social activism and they continue to contribute to
“Yay Area” hip-hop culture. Their releases reveal an affinity for the Bay Area as indicated by
imagery found throughout videos and/or song. Sometimes this display of pride manifests in
violent imagery as Mistah Roger’s Down For Our City attests. Ultimately their releases speak to
the determination of Asian American hip-hop artists to remain “sucka free” whether they are
from the “SCO” (San Francisco), “the Town” (Oakland), or “San Ho” (San Jose).

132

Conclusion
Digging on the Backspin: Asian Americans and Bay Area Hip-Hop Culture
If you dig deep in your record collection you will find a gem that not a lot of
people listened to. And the track will put you on a path…

279

I’m standing behind the decks (two Technics 1200s and a Vestax mixer) crooking my head to
keep my headphones in place between my right ear and shoulder while my left ear listens to the
sounds of dub music echoing throughout a nightclub of San Francisco’s Tenderloin District.
With my left hand, I cue the next track by rubbing the record back and forth. As the track nears
completion, I perform a fast backspin on the left turntable with my left hand to sync the record
with the track playing over the sound system. Some dancehall DJs perform this backspin live in
the mix after a “hot” or popular track has been played. They refer to this style of backspin as a
“rewind.”
This conclusion continues the employment of digging as a metaphor by utilizing a
“rewind” to showcase my investigation of Asian Americans participating within the Bay Area’s
hip-hop scene. I will employ a “rewind” to highlight how data collected led me on a variety of
paths that influenced this study. In so doing, I hope to provide glimpses into the Bay Area hiphop scene by recollecting my experiences as an instructor of Asian American Studies courses, a
participant within the “graf” and DJ scenes, and as an ethnographer documenting club life and
events. In so doing, I will reveal how peoples of Asian Pacific Islander descent participate
within Bay Area hip-hop culture as fans, artists, and organizers.

133

In the summer of 2005, I sold roughly 2,000 vinyl records, two Technics 1200s, one
mixer, a drum machine and a sampler. I regrettably sold the aforementioned items because I had
to temporarily relocate to East Lansing, Michigan for graduate school. I foolishly believed
having less vinyl and DJ equipment would lead to a clutter-free lifestyle, but soon I was buying
records again. On one journey I found myself travelling to Chicago to purchase two 1200s and a
Vestax mixer from a Japanese DJ who was returning to Japan. Within a year, I had purchased
two hundred records and now I own roughly three thousand.
Upon returning to the Bay Area, I was afforded the opportunity to DJ at a number of
events. In the summer of 2008, I was hired with DJ Whizkey to provide music for a Filipino
American wedding in San Francisco. In the fall of 2010, I was hired to DJ a wedding in
Westminster for a Vietnamese American friend. Most interestingly, I was recruited to guest DJ
on KPFA’s Roots Kommunikations reggae show in the winter of 2009. In preparation, I selected
and number of tunes from my vast reggae collection, introduced tracks, read radio station
identification announcements, and events. My connections with KPFA lead to spinning at a
New Year Eve party held by East Oakland Radio. Finally, Whizkey landed a gig spinning in
San Francisco’s Tenderloin. After discussing our visions for the gig, we spun together numerous
times from 2009 to 2010.
My many returns to “the City” were similar to “ScoJourning” – returning to San
Francisco after many temporary absences while pursuing graduate studies in East Lansing. I
relished my many returns to the Bay Area with enthusiasm and soon found that I had taken the
multiracial and multiethnic composition of the area for granted.
My days were spent teaching Asian American Culture at San Francisco State University
(SFSU) where my students revealed an emerging population of Asian American youth producing

134

hip-hop. Students shared their discoveries of local Bay Area talent including Flipeanut, the
Earthtones, Elemop, and Ruby Ibarra – all emcees and crews of Filipino ancestry. A Hmong
student shared her experiences of hanging out at the recording studio of the Gookstaz – their
bedroom. A Chinese American student who produced beats in his bedroom referred me to
investigate Nump. Many of my students went to emcee Jin’s autograph signing at Tower
Records at Stonestown Mall near SFSU (2004) and his official record release party held at 330
Ritch. In addition, a number of students gave me their DJ mixtapes and hip-hop demos and such
offerings influenced me to dig deeper while record hunting.

280

While digging for records throughout the Bay Area, I came across a number of hip-hop
releases by artists of Asian Pacific Islander descent that provided clues into their marketability. I
found both Estairy’s Hybrid (2003), Mint Rock’s solo release (2005) and Csteroc’s Gamblin’
and Grindin’ (2005) while digging in the hip-hop section’s bargain bin. The aforementioned
CDs were bought for less than two dollars and their low price suggests that these releases are not
highly regarded; however, such finds, in addition to becoming a part of my archive, proved to be
priceless in my investigation of Asian Americans in Bay Area hip-hop culture. Sometimes
releases were misfiled. For example, Unagi’s Beneath The Surface of the SFC (2006) and Love’s
Criminal (2006) by the Asiatic Knight Stalker were both found while digging through the
experimental section at Amoeba Records. I also found twelve inch singles by Boston emcee
Chan “Politickin’ with Chan” (2001) and Japanese hip-hop dancehall star Nanjaman’s “Light
Foot” (1999). Such releases suggest a wider Asian and Asian American population influenced
by hip-hop culture beyond the Bay Area.
Initially my interest in researching Asian Americans in hip-hop culture stemmed from
archiving the representations of Asians found throughout popular music. As an undergraduate

135

student of SFSU, I collected vinyl, DJ-ed house parties and made cassette mixtapes for my
friends, girlfriends, and colleagues. My friend suggested I catalog songs by non-Asians singing
about Asia and Asians. The result was a mail-order mixtape cassette entitled Yello Mello (1998)
281

that I sold in her self-published zine.

Such an exercise influenced my investigation of

representations of Chinese and Chinatown for my Master’s thesis. Doctoral studies inspired me
to erect a history of Asians producing reggae music and this project stopped short of a
dissertation when a friend suggested I look back closely at the Bay Area hip-hop scene.
Homesick, I bought two underground rap CDs from my undergraduate years – Dre Dog’s
I Hate You With A Passion (1995) and The New Jim Jones (1993) – releases that led me to the
black emcee’s collaborations with Equipto. Dre Dog, now known as Andre Nickatina, penned
two songs with references to Asian Pacific Islanders – “Sun Duck Kim” (1999) and “Blind
Genius” (2010) – the former detailing the rapper’s relationship with Sun Duck Kim and the later
comparing his fighting style to that of Manny Pacquiao. “Sun Duck Kim” is significant in that a
Chinese woman’s voice is sampled and played as the song’s chorus. The dialect, Cantonese, is
hardly translatable since the woman’s pronunciation is horrible; however, a partial translation
reveals that the woman is angry with the rapper. Her anger towards the rapper is represented by
the use of the phrase “you are a jerk;” however, she requests the rapper “to never leave.”

282

Nickatina’s songs offered insights into how the Asian subject figures into the lyrics of Bay Area
emcees and these songs led me to dig deeper into my archive to find tracks by Digital
Underground, the Coup and the contemporary offerings of Mistah F.A.B.
The multiracial and multiethnic composition of the Bay Area hip-hop scene was reflected
in the many events I observed. For example, in the summer of 2009, Mistah F.A.B. and Dead
Prez held a free concert at Yerba Buena Gardens in San Francisco. The event, Grind For The

136

Green, was marketed as “the 2nd Annual Solar Powered Hip-Hop Concert.” The name of the
event can be read either as an embrace of “green energy” but also indicates the influence of the
Bay Area’s burgeoning medical marijuana enterprises. The outdoor event featured many hiphop vendors selling Bay Area themed hip-hop clothing. The audience reflected the multiethnic
and multiracial composition of the Bay Area. At one point Mistah F.A.B. addressed the crowd
about diversity and “Yay Area” pride before performing “Super Sic Wid It” (2005) – a song that
gives a shout out to the Filipino American community. Soon, a diverse crew of breakers
performed on the solar powered stage as the crowd – many of which wore shirts and hats
claiming their city, deceased Vallejo rapper Mac Dre, and/or sports teams – bobbed their heads
in unison. Six months later, Dream Day (2010) marked the tenth anniversary of Mike “Dream”
Francisco’s passing. Although I could not attend, I encountered “graf” artists Cuba and Dino
painting a memorial piece on a wall of Clarion Alley in San Francisco’s Mission District to the
deceased artist. Respect the Culture (2011) later replaced the Dream memorial and the piece
celebrates Bay Area’s graffiti scene and Dream is the first artist listed among the list of writers.
I spent in the many nights in the nightclubs of San Francisco as an observer, fan, and
participant; however, what happened outside of “clubbing” provided enriching experiences from
within the graffiti scene. After leaving a club in San Francisco’s Haight District, Dino drove me
to the South of Market District for an impromptu graffiti session. We parked underneath an
overpass to be harassed by a paranoid homeless man sleeping in his car as we looked for a
surface perfect for a piece. Dino threw his jacket over the barbed wire of the chain-linked fence
and hopped over. I sat perched on the corner playing “lookout” nervously smoking cigarettes.
Within a half hour, Dino sprayed a piece on the back of a trailer dedicated to me. Although my
name was misspelled, I felt honored to be respected by a Filipino American “graf” artist. Such

137

events inspired me to reflect the Bay Area’s vibrant hip-hop scene accurately through careful
recollections captured through the nightly writing of fieldnotes.
Back in the East Lansing, I sorted through ethnographic data while I waited for packages
of records purchased in the Bay to arrive. One mishap by the post office – the loss of over one
hundred records – speaks to the lengths researchers go to construct an archive of Asian American
involvement in hip-hop culture. Not only did I lose a twelve-inch single by Triple Threat DJs
(Filipino American DJs Apollo, Vin Roc and Shortkut) but also a number of records I looked
forward to mix. The loss of the Triple Threat single was especially damaging since the crew
rarely issues vinyl. The lyrics of Curt Sak’s “Lost My Light” (2003) spoke to the frustration of
my loss:
Lost my light,
My spark and my flame,
My heart drained like the butane,
Can never look at life the same,
Darkness came along with the storm and rain,
Music lit me like a beacon,
Took me through my bullshit.
The lyrics of the Japanese American emcee resonated with me since I also sought refuge in
music. Similarly, the lyrics of “Music Is My Sanctuary” (1977) by saxophonist Gary Bartz
spoke to music’s appeal: “Music is my sanctuary, music is my life.”
Despite the loss, other materials such as DVDs and flyers provided insights into how
Asian Americans fit into the Bay Area hip-hop scene. Frisco to the Ville (2008) – a DVD about
the underground rap scenes of San Francisco and Kentucky – featured a cameo by 106 KMEL’s

138

Rick Lee in the music video for Big Rich’s “That’s the Business” (2005). Multiple DVD
releases by Thizz Entertainment – Treal TV (2003), 23109: Exhibition of Speed (2004), Treal TV
2 (2006) and Smoke-N-Thizz (2006) – provided insights into the multiracial and multiethnic
composition of the Hyphy Movement. The many fliers collected referencing Mac Dre during
my many returns to the Bay Area speaks to the influence the deceased Vallejo rapper has on the
hip-hop scene. My Filipino American friend’s wedding dinner, for instance, featured a number
of placards placed on tables to designate seating arrangements. One of the placards featured the
album cover of Mac Dre’s Thizzelle Washington (2001). This speaks to the rapper’s influence
not only for blacks, but also Filipinos and other ethnicities of the Bay Area.
Asian American hip-hop artists of the Bay Area employ a unique sense of purpose that
acknowledges the multiethnic and multiracial composition of its cities and the hip-hop scene.
For example, a flier for the Soulsearchers featuring African American singer Melani Blythe also
bills Filipino American DJ Shortkut of the Triple Threat DJs and World Famous Beat Junkies. A
flier for the History of Scratch Tour (2009) continues this trend. The flier features Qbert
standing in front of Jazzy Jeff, Grand Wizard Theodore, former Invisibl Skratch Picklz’ DJ Flare
and DJ Jumi. The flier is significant since it recognizes DJ culture’s African American pioneers
(Jazzy Jeff and Grand Wizard Theodore) alongside local (DJ Flare and Qbert) and international
talent (DJ Jumi). This suggests that the Bay Area scene acknowledges hip-hop culture’s
birthplace (New York) while recognizing homegrown and/or global DJ talent.
Asian American emcees express an ethnic and/or racial awareness that manifests
throughout their releases. For example, Vietnamese American emcee Csteroc’s Gamblin’ &
Grindin’ (2005) is dedicated to the artist’s deceased sisters: Tran Ngoc Minh Tu and Tran Ngoc
Minh Tram. Furthermore, Mint Rock’s self-titled (2005) release gives a shout out to the

139

ScoJourners by declaring calling the crew his “ninjas” – a slang term also used in Mistah Roger’s
music video Down For Our City (2011). Furthermore, some Asian American emcees possess a
political consciousness that manifests throughout their releases. Emcees Kiwi, Equipto and Jona
Chung produce works that acknowledge the Bay Area’s rich history of social activism.
The Bay Area’s legacy of social activism also manifests in the hip-hop releases of
African Americans who acknowledge the contributions of Asian Americans. For example, the
Maroons, a black hip-hop duo comprised of DJ Chief Xcel and emcee Lateef, released an album
entitled Ambush (2004). The cover features two maroon fighters with machineguns underneath a
tree; however, they are flanked with a multiracial and gender inclusive fighters – African, Middle
Eastern, Latin and Asian – who are cleverly masked in the shadows. The reverse of the album
jacket features artwork of revolutionary thinkers such as Marcus Garvey, Che Guevara, Huey
Newton, and Nelson Mandela; however, what is striking is the inclusion of San Franciscan Bruce
Lee who was largely responsible for popularizing martial arts. Dead Prez emcee M-1’s “5
Elementz” (2006) – a rap influenced by I-Ching philosophy – continues this trend by stating,
“like Bruce Lee say, ‘Do or do not do.’” Furthermore, the Last Poets collaboration with Dead
Prez and Common entitled Panthers (2004) acknowledges the continuing influence of the Black
Panther Party (BPP) – an organization that had Asian American membership. For example,
Bingham’s Black Panthers 1968 (2009) opens with a picture of three members of the BPP
283

standing in a window of St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church in Oakland, California.

The

picture features an Asian woman giving a Black Power salute while standing behind the flag of
the BPP alongside two African Americans. Such photographic evidence speaks not only to
Asian American involvement within the BPP beyond deceased member Richard Aoki but also to
the larger issue of African and Asian American collaboration in the Bay Area.

140

284

Lastly, on a

summer walk through the Mission District, I encountered graffiti artist Cuba spraying a mural
devoted to the BPP in Clarion Alley. He introduced me to Emory Douglas – the Minister of
Culture of the BPP – who was there to give Cuba artistic guidance since the artist was creating a
mural based on an original BPP drawing. My conversation with Emory revealed a strong
passion to uplift the black community and all oppressed peoples.
As a community organizer, I took part in two afterschool hip-hop programs that speak to
the influence hip-hop culture have on Asian American youth. While working at Asian Health
Services in Oakland’s Chinatown as a community health worker (1998-2001), youth recruited a
number of young Asian American hip-hop artists to perform at variety shows. One recounted
her efforts:
The target [of the event] was API (Asian Pacific Islander) youth. All of us listen
to R&B and rap. All of us agreed that each of us had twenty friends that would
come and watch [the event]. If we did rock we would have white kids, but are
target [was] API youth. And I think the key thing was to keep it Bay Area, keep it
285

API, and keep it Oakland for the youth.

The result was a talent show that featured breakers, rappers, and spoken word artists alongside
cultural performances. Following the success of the variety shows, an afterschool hip-hop
program followed. Youth created fliers and badges for an afterschool hip-hop program that
advertised workshops taught by Bay Area talent (see Figure 5). The overwhelming success of
the program speaks to the role hip-hop culture plays in the lives of many Asian Pacific Islander
youth. One coordinator recalled “the role that hip-hop was playing in those youths lives” and
“how it was more connected to the expression” through the “core elements” of hip-hop; graffiti,
DJ-ing, breaking, and emcee-ing.

286

Alternatively, the success of Chinatown Beacon Center’s

141

program was largely due to their marketing approach that utilized the “hip-hop tag;” however,
the shear number of participants the program attracted speaks to the allure of hip-hop culture for
Asian American youth.

287

As an activist, I took part in many uprisings stemming from the killing of Oscar Grant
that spoke to the power of hip-hop music. Amongst the protestors one could hear the sounds of
hip-hop music blaring from boomboxes affixed to the back of three wheel bicycles. Oakland
Mayor Ron Dellums’ attempt to “keep the peace” by employing a DJ and band stylistically
missed the mark by playing oldies as police marched towards protestors – among them many
Asian Pacific Islanders. The press muted Asian American involvement within the uprisings;
however, their involvement speaks to the legacy of African and Asian Americans working
towards social justice. For example, SFSU’s Afrikana and Asian American Studies departments
drafted a press release denouncing a number of killings of Asians by blacks throughout the Bay
Area; however, the press chose not to publish the letter. The failure to print the letter continues
the trend of muting collaborative efforts between African and Asian Americans. It also infers the
power the model minority concept wields over collaborative efforts between the aforementioned
communities.
My many gigs DJ-ing evoked the power music has on mobilizing people for change. For
example, while DJ-ing my friend’s Filipino themed wedding in San Francisco, a number of
peoples of varying races, ethnicities, genders and sexualities filled the dance floor. The dancers
represented a cross section of the Bay Area’s diverse population that spoke to the liberal,
progressive and tolerant politics that characterize San Francisco. My diverse selections ranging
from reggae, hip-hop, eighties to jazz reflected a keen knowledge of Bay Area tastes that resulted
in a large number of dancers. Despite conducting this study under times of civil unrest, my

142

experience DJ-ing and the enthusiastic response from the dancers invoked the possibility of
cooperation and collaboration amongst various peoples beyond the dance floor.
The Asian American hip-hop scene of the Bay Area is close-knit and the success of its
many emcees is largely due to tapping into the larger Asian American network. Asian American
emcees are recruited for a number of Asian American themed events across the country by
accessing this network. For example, Kiwi has performed at SFSU in support of the Educational
Opportunity Program (EOP) that faced budget cuts throughout the early 2000s. An organizer of
the event recalled one of Kiwi’s performances “resonat[ing] with the students” since the emcee
288

“used hip-hop to communicate to the youth rather than having a speaker.”

She also notes that

“books are not cool anymore” and that hip-hop releases “records the oral histories” of what “our
generation have seen and has learned.”

289

Kiwi was also hired to perform at the Asian

American Movement Conference at University of Michigan in 2011. Addressing the crowd, he
shouted, “If you got love for the Bay Area, raise your hands up.” The audience zealously
responded by waving their arms skyward. Such a display of love provided solace that some
forms of Bay Area hip-hop culture can thrive even in the Midwest.
Some Asian American emcees take active roles in the political struggles of their
homeland and this signals the power hip-hop culture has on Asian Pacific Islanders beyond the
U.S. For example, Sounds of a New Hope (2009), features Kiwi organizing Filipino youth
against U.S. imperialism and the corrupt Philippine government through hip-hop organizing.
Overcoming language difficulties, the youth and the emcee successfully record a song against the
government in a makeshift recording studio. This not only speaks to the resourcefulness of
Asian Americans, but also the larger pan-Asian network striving for systemic change on a global
scale.

143

The idea of mass appeal – originally an obstacle for many Asian American emcees –
appears to be lessening. As I sit surrounded shelves and boxes full of vinyl (including many by
Asians and Asian Americans), I notice a crew of three men dressed sharply taking turns rapping
in a highly stylized music video. They are the Far East Movement, an Asian American hip-hop
group from Los Angeles, and within a matter of weeks, I witnessed three different music videos
on Fox’s The Cool TV. Amazed that an Asian American hip-hop group could be signed to
Interscope Records and receive exposure from a mainstream television network, I thought of the
artists who’ve came before them that broke the barriers and often times masked their identities to
redirect attentions on their skills. Now, it appears, that the mask is unnecessary and Asian
Americans in hip-hop have begun to assert their power.

144

NOTES
Introduction
1

Hess writes, “Hip hop is defended as an African-American form. African-American artists
often extend this image of the authentic to present hip hop as a black expressive culture faced
with appropriation by a white-controlled record industry.” See Mikey Hess, Is Hip Hop Dead?:
The Past, Present, and Future of America’s Most Wanted Music (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2007),
112.
2
See a list of hip-hop songs that include anti-Asian sentiments entitled “Yellow Rap
Bastardization: A Brief History of Rap Recordings that Ridicule ‘Rientals,” in Ego Trip’s Big
Book of Racism!, ed. Sacha Jenkins, Elliot Wilson, Chairman Jefferson Mao, Gabriel Alvarez
and Brent Rollins (New York: Regan Books, 2002), 100.
3
See George Lipsitz, Footsteps in the Dark: the Hidden Histories of Popular Music
(Minneapolis: Minnesota UP, 2007).
4
See Oliver Wang, “Rapping and Repping Asian: Race Authenticity, and the Asian American
MC,” in Alien Encounters: Popular Culture in Asian America, ed. Mimi Thi Nguyen (Durham:
Duke UP, 2007), 35-68.
5
Ibid.
6

For an in-depth overview of record collecting see Brett Milano, Vinyl Junkies: Adventures in
Record Collecting (New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 2003). For a gendered reading of record
collectors see Will Straw, “Sizing Up Record Collections: Gender and Connoisseurship in Rock
Music Culture,” in Sexing the Groove: Popular Music and Gender, ed. Sheila Whiteley (New
York: Routledge, 1997). For a comprehensive history of DJ culture see Bill Brewster and Frank
Broughton, Last Night a DJ Saved My Life: The History of the Disc Jockey (New York: Grove
Press, 2000).
7
Diana Taylor, The Archive and the Repertoire: Performing Cultural Memory in the Americas
(Durham: Duke UP, 2003), 19.
8
Also featured on the flier are Asian American emcees IZ (Korean American), Thai
(Vietnamese American) and Drew Deezy (Samoan American) alongside producer Traxamillion
(African American) with special appearances by Korean American singers J. Reyez and Tommy
C, and Cambodian American emcee Lil Crazed.
9
Studies by Anderson (2009) and Blauch (2007) showcase how useful the employment of the
term “scene” can capture information beyond the singular study of a particular music genre. See
Tammy L. Andersen, Rave Culture: The Alteration and Decline of a Philadelphia Music Scene
(Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2009) and Emma Baulch, Making Scenes: Reggae, Punk, and Death
Metal in 1990s Bali (Durham: Duke UP, 2007).
10
Wong’s Speak It Louder! (2004) serves as an exemplary ethnographic study of Asian
American musicians. Rather than demarcating what is “Asian America music,” she focuses
attentions on Asian Americans making music. In so doing, Wong avoids establishing a category

145

of Asian American music. See Deborah Anne Wong, Speak It Louder!: Asian Americans Making
Music (New York: Routledge, 2004).
11
Interview with RT, August 25, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Asian American Identity: Diasporic Nostalgia and Cultural Production
12

A number of scholars have noted the international dimensions underscoring an Asian
American identity notably the Vietnam War and resultant global oppositional movements of
1968. See Sucheta Mazumdar, “Asian American Studies and Asian Studies: Rethinking Roots,”
in Asian Americans: Comparative and Global Perspectives, ed. Shirley Hune (Pullman:
Washington State UP, 1990), 29-44. Also see Eleanor Ty and Donald C. Goellnicht,
“Introduction: Beyond Hyphenated Identities,” in Asian North American Identities: Beyond the
Hyphen, ed. Eleanor Ty and Donald C. Goellnicht (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana UP,
2004), 1-14.
13
Min Zhou and Jennifer Lee, “Introduction: The Making of Culture, Identity, and Ethnicity
among Asian American Youth,” in Asian American Youth: Culture, Identity, and Ethnicity, ed.
Min Zhou and Jennifer Lee (New York: Routledge, 2004), 11.
14
Steven Vertovec, The Hindu Diaspora: Comparative Patterns (New York: Routledge, 2000),
147.
15
Margo Machida, Unsettled Visions: Contemporary Asian American Artists and the Social
Imaginary (Durham: Duke UP, 2008), 4.
16
According to Census 2000, the total number of Filipinos residing in the U.S. is 1, 850,314
while Chinese are 2,432, 585 of the total population (281,421,906). People of Asian ancestry in
San Francisco County totaled 31.3% and those of Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander ancestry
0.4%. Disaggregating the Asian population of reveals Filipinos represent 40,083 of the total
population (776,733) and Chinese 152,620. Neighboring San Mateo County includes Atherton,
Belmont, Brisbane, Burlingame, Colma, Daly City, East Palo Alto, Foster City, Half Moon Bay,
Hillsborough, Menlo Park, Millbrae, Pacifica, Portola Valley, Redwood City, San Bruno, San
Carlos, San Mateo, South San Francisco, and Woodside. The total number of Chinese living in
San Mateo County is 48,996 and Filipino 59,047 of the total 1,443, 741 population. Alameda
24th
County, the
most populated county in the United States includes Alameda, Albany,
Berkeley, Dublin, Emeryville, Fremont, Hayward, Livermore, Newark, Oakland, Piedmont,
Pleasanton, San Leandro, and Union City. Alameda County estimates a 24% of the total
population is of Asian ancestry and those of Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander descent
represent 0.8%. Disaggregating the Asian population of Alameda County reveals that the
Chinese total 112,006 of the total population (1,443,741) and Filipino total 69,127. It must be
noted that these total do not reflect the number of undocumented persons of Asians or Pacific
Islander descent.
17
Interview with VB, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
18
19

Ibid.

Interview with SK, August 19, 2009, San Francisco, California. Aquino was assassinated in
1983 in retaliation to his anti-Marcos mobilization efforts.
146

20
21
22
23
24

Interview with JS, August 29, 2009, Alameda, California.
Interview with AD, January 21, 2010, San Francisco, California.
Ibid.
Ibid.

The Philippines is the most English fluent country of the Pacific. Filipinos migrating to the
U.S. are often fluent in English since instruction in the Philippines in conducted in English.
25
Min Zhou, “Intragroup Diversity: Asian American Population Dynamics and Challenges of
the Twenty-first Century,” in Asian America: Forming New Communities, Expanding
Boundaries, ed. Huping Ling (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 2009), 40.
26
Interview with LL, August 26, 2009, San Francisco, California.
27
28
29
30

Ibid.
Interview with TJ, August 23, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Interview with JS, August 29, 2009, Alameda, California.

The Bay Area is home to two official Chinatowns: Oakland and San Francisco. San Francisco
is also home to unofficial Chinatowns in the Sunset and Richmond districts. Oakland, likewise,
has an unofficial Chinatown in East Oakland that is predominately Chinese Vietnamese.
31
Interview with HA, August 26, 2009, Oakland, California.
32
33
34
35
36
37
38

Interview with LM, January 12, 2010, Oakland, California.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.

Alvin N. Alvarez, “Racial Identity and Asian Americans: Supports and Challenges,” in
Working with Asian American College Students, ed. Marylu K. McEwen et al. (San Francisco:
Wiley Periodicals, Inc., 2002), 33-43. He writes that many Asian American college students go
through several stages of racial identification: conformity, dissonance, immersion, emersion,
internationalization, and integrative awareness. Once “white-washed,” Asian American college
students question their views on race, denigrate of all that is white, attain a sense of solidarity
with other Asian Americans, and ultimately construct meaningful personal definitions followed
by a unique integration of multiple identities based on race, ethnicity, class, gender, and
sexuality.
39
Zhou, 40.
40

Sunaina Maira, Desis in the House: Indian American Youth Culture in New York City
(Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2002), 88.
41
Benito M. Vergara, Pinoy Capital: The Filipino Nation in Daly City (Philadelphia: Temple
UP, 2002), 170.
42
Interview with AG, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
147

43
44
45

Interview with HA, August 26, 2009, Oakland, California.
Ibid.

Andrea Louie’s Chineseness Across Borders: Renegotiating Chinese Identity in China and the
United States (Durham: Duke UP, 2004) explores the concept of Chineseness among Chinese
Americans returning to mainland China and their interactions with Chinese. The idea of what
constitutes Chineseness among Chinese Americans is largely influenced by popular culture
imported and consumed in the United States.
46
Interview with GK, August 26, 2009, San Francisco, California.
47
48
49
50
51
52
53

Interview with AD, January 21, 2010, San Francisco, California.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Interview with LL, August 26, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Ibid.
Ibid.

Aiwha Ong’s Flexible Citizenship: The Cultural Logics of Transnationality (Durham: Duke
UP, 1999) argues that middle-upper-class Chinese have the ability to work and live
internationally representative of a global and transnational economy. Although not applicable to
all Chinese, Ong’s work highlights a new migratory class of Chinese that has taken shape in
various forms throughout Asia.
54
Machida, 40.
55
56
57

William Wei, The Asian American Movement (Philadelphia: Temple UP, 1993), 64.
Maira (2002), 88.

Defunct hip-hop groups of the Bay Area featuring Asian Americans include Fists of Fury, Etai
Doshen, and Invisibl Skratch Piklz (ISP). Currently, Lyrics Born, Denizen Kane, Kiwi Illafonte
and Bambu (formerly of Native Guns), Emcee T, and members of Bored Stiff (Equipto and Mint
Rock) represent the role models for aspiring Asian American hip-hop artists.
58
Lakandiwa L. De Leon, “Filipinotown and the DJ Scene: Expression and Identity Affirmation
of Filipino American Youth in Los Angeles,” in Asian American Youth: Culture, Identity, and
Ethnicity, ed. Jennifer Lee and Min Zhou (New York: Routledge, 2004), 191-206. It is important
to note that Filipino Americans DJs rose to prominence and fame in the 1990s and early 2000s.
Subsequently, crews such as the Beat Junkies and the ISP became the role models for aspiring
Asian American DJs a scene that will be explored in another chapter.
59
See Elizabeth H. Pisares, “Did You Mis(categorize) Me: Filipina Americans in Popular Music
and the Problem of Invisibility,” in Positively No Filipinos Allowed: building Communities and
Discourse, ed., Antonio T. Tiongson, Jr. et al. (Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2006), 172-198.
60
Ethnicity, culture and musical orientation influence the construction of online communities
online. See Andrew Whelen, “Do U Produce?: Subcultural Capital and Amateur Musicianship in
Peer-to-Peer Networks,” in Cybersounds: Essays on Virtual Music Culture, ed. Michael D.
Ayers (New York: Peter Lang, 2006), 84. Such a statement holds true for Asian American hip-

148

hop artists representing their race/ethnicity, city, and/or homeland through their preferred hiphop genre (be it conscious or hyphy) that ultimately is disseminated online through websites and
social networking groups.
61
A DVD entitled Mistah FAB: Yellow Tape Caution (2007) released by Thizz Entertainment
showcases Mistah F.A.B. acknowledging his Filipino American fan-base.
62
The practice of non-Asians utilizing Asian inspired and/or derived fashions has been linked to
the rise of “Indo-Chic” and has been covered by many scholars. See Rachel Rubin and Jeffrey
Melnick, “Monterey 1967: The Hippies Meet Ravi Shankar,” in Immigration and American
Popular Culture: an Introduction (New York: New York UP, 2007), 129-175; Parminder Bachu,
Dangerous Designs: Asian Women Fashion the Diaspora Economies (New York: Routledge,
2004); Sunaina Maira, “Indo-Chic: Late Capitalist Orientalism and Imperial Culture,” in Alien
Encounters: Popular Culture in Asian America, ed. Mimi Thi Nguyen (Durham: Duke UP,
2007), 221-243; and Bakirathi Mani, “Undressing the Diaspora,” in South Asian Women in the
Diaspora, ed. Nirmal Puwar and Parvati Raghuram (London: Berg, 2003), 117-135. Similarly,
East Asian and Pacific Islanders (specifically Filipinos) have created ethnic inspired fashions
catering to an Asian American audience during the rise Japan-ophilia and “Asian Chic” during
the 1990s to the present. “Asian Chic” refers to the popularity of popular culture stemming from
Asia and to a lesser degree the Pacific (i.e., films, music, fashion, and food) by those living
outside of Eastern Hemisphere. Although, the term functions as a derogatory term to describe
the West’s fascination with the East, I argue that the “Asian Chic” also applies to Asian
Americans exploring their roots through the consumption of popular culture.
63
“Jump on da scrape” is Bay Area slang for riding an old car (a scrape) as one would do on a
surfboard.
64
Harrison (2009) notes that Kiwi “is one of the forerunners in a rising generation of politically
conscious Filipino emcees” along with Blue Scholars, Power Struggle and Bambu (formerly of
Native Guns). See Anthony Kwame Harrison, Hip Hop Underground: The Integrity and Ethics
of Racial Identification (Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2009), 132;182.
65
For a brief discussion on the role Bay Area radio stations had in the popularization of hip-hop
music see Jeff Chang’s interview with hip-hop journalist and radio personality Davey D in “New
World Order: Globalization, Containment and Counter Culture at the End of the Century,” in
Can’t Stop Won’t Stop: The History of the Hip-Hop Generation (New York: Picador, 2005), 440443.
66
The director of Native Guns video for Drowning (2008) is Erika Lee.
67

Lisa Nakamura, “Where Do You Want to Go Today?: Cybernetic Tourism, the Internet and
Transnationality,” in Race in Cyberspace, ed. Beth Kolko et al. (New York: Routledge, 2000),
87-97.
68
The Internet represents a space in which battles over the concept of an “Asian American
community” takes place. See Rachel C. Lee and Sau-ling Cynthia Wong, “Introduction,” in
Asian America.Net: Ethnicity, Nationalism, and Cyberspace, ed. Rachel C. Lee and Sau-ling
Cynthia Wong (New York: Routledge, 2003), xviii.
69
See Ray Salonga’s Facebook status on September 28, 2009. “Ray Salonga” is used here as a
pseudonym to protect the identity of the participant.

149

70
71
72

Ibid.
Ibid.

See Rockin’ the Boat: Mass Music and Mass Movements, ed. Reebee Garfalo (New York:
South End Press, 1992).
Caught In-between: Asian Americans, Hip-Hop, and the Model Minority

73

For a detailed explanation for the causes of 1992 Los Angeles Uprising see Edward Chang’s
essay “America’s First Multiethnic Riots,” in The State of Asian America: Activism and
Resistance in the 1990s, ed. Karin Aguilar-San Juan (Cambridge, MA: South End Press, 1999),
101-117. The effects of the Reagan Bush Era are discussed in terms of their subsequent
manifestation in hip-hop culture in George Lipsitz’s essay entitled “We Know What It Is: Race,
Class and Youth Culture in the Nineties,” in Microphone Fiends: Youth Music and Youth
Culture, ed. Tricia Rose and Andrew Ross (New York: Routledge, 1994), 17-28.
74
For more information on the influence of Ice Cube’s “Black Korea” on the Los Angeles
Uprising see Jeff Chang’s “Race, Class, Conflict and Empowerment: On Ice Cube’s ‘Black
Korea,” in Los Angeles: Struggles Toward Multiethnic Community: Asian American, African
American, and Latino Perspectives, ed. Edward T. Chang and Russell C. Leong (Seattle:
University of Washington Press, 1994), 87-107 which explores the larger social context of the
incendiary song. Also see Jeff Chang, “The Real Enemy: The Cultural Riot of Ice Cube’s Death
Certificate,” in Can’t Stop Won’t Stop: The History of the Hip-Hop Generation (New York:
Picador, 2005), 331-353. In addition, Jeffrey O.G. Ogbar’s Hip-Hop Revolution: The Culture
and Politics of Rap (Lawrence, Kansas: University of Kansas Press, 2007) provides a brief
section on Asian American hip-hop entitled “Yellow Brotherhood.” He begins this section with
a brief summation of Ice Cube’s “Black Korea” as representative of the tenuous relationships
between blacks and Asians in the United States.
75
Abelmann and Lie’s Blue Dreams: Korean Americans and Los Angeles, (Boston: Harvard
UP, 1997) provides in-depth analysis of the impact of mainstream media’s portrayal of Korean
American storeowners protecting their businesses from looters during the Los Angeles Uprising.
76
Multiple releases throughout the 1990s feature Asians as a footnote to the larger hip-hop
canon through the experience of African Americans. Songs by Jay-Z (“Girls, Girls, Girls”), Puff
Daddy (“Diddy”), and Foxy Brown (“Chyna White”) casts Asian women bootleggers, as abused
domestic workers, and in Brown’s case, equates Chinese people with heroin.
77
See Oliver Wang, “These are the Breaks: Hip-Hop and AfroAsian Cultural
(Dis)Connections,” in Afroasian Encounters: Culture, History, Politics, ed. Heike RaphaelHernandez and Shannon Steen (New York: New York UP, 2006), 146-163; Deborah Elizabeth
Wahley, “Black Bodies/Yellow Masks: The Orientalist Aesthetic in Hip-Hop and Black Visual
Culture,” in Afroasian Encounters: Culture, History, Politics, ed. Heike Raphael-Hernandez and
Shannon Steen (New York: New York UP, 2006), 188-203; and Jane C.H. Park, “Cibo Matto’s
Stereotype A: Articulating Asian American Hip Pop,” in East Main Street: Asian American
Popular Culture, ed. Dave Shilpa, Leilani Nishime and Tasha G. Oren (New York: New York
UP, 2005), 292-312.

150

78

Contemporary examples of ethnographic fieldwork regarding Asian Americans and hip-hop
include scholarship by Maira Sunaina, Desis in the House: Indian American Youth Culture in
New York City (Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2002) and “Desis in the Hood: Indian American Youth
Culture in New York,” in Blacks and Asians: Crossings, Conflict and Commonality, ed. Hazel
M. McFerson (Durham, NC: Carolina Academic Press, 2006), 235-264; Lakandiwa L. De Leon,
“Filipinotown and the DJ Scene: Expression and Identity Affirmation of Filipino American
Youth in Los Angeles,” in Asian American Youth: Culture, Identity, and Ethnicity, ed. Jennifer
Lee and Min Zhou, (New York: Routledge, 2004), 191-206; Adria L. Imada, “Head Rush: Hip
Hop and a Hawaiian Nation ‘On the Rise,’” in The Vinyl Ain’t Final: Hip-hop and the
Globalisation of Black Popular Culture, ed. Dippinnita Basu and Sidney J. Lemelle (London:
Pluto Press, 2006), 85-99; April K. Henderson “Dancing Between Islands: Hip Hop and the
Samoan Diaspora,” in The Vinyl Ain’t Final: Hip-hop and the Globalisation of Black Popular
Culture, ed. Dipannita Basu and Sidney J. Lemelle (London: Pluto Press, 2006 (2006), 180-199;
and Nitasha Sharma “Polyvalent Voices: Ethnic and Racialized Desi Hip-Hop,” in Desi Rap:
Hip-Hop and South Asian America, ed. Ajay Nait and Murali Balaji (New York: Lexington
Books, 2008), 17-31.
79
Gary Okihiro, Margins and Mainstreams: Asians in American History and Culture (Seattle:
University of Washington Press, 1994); Vijay Prashad, Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting: AfroAsian Connections and the Myth of Cultural Purity (Boston: Beacon Press, 2001); Bill V.
Mullen, Afro-Orientalism (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2004); Daryl Maeda,
“Black Panthers, Red Guards, and Chinamen: Constructing Asian American Identity through
Performing Blackness, 1969-1972.” American Quarterly 54 no. 4 (2005): 1079-1103; and Bill
V. Mullen and Fred Ho, ed., Afro Asia: Revolutionary Political Practices Between African
Americans and Asian Americans (Durham: Duke Up, 2008).
80
Fred Ho, Wicked Theory Naked Practice: A Fred Ho Reader, ed. Diane C. Fujino
(Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2009); Amy Obugo Onigiri, “‘He Wanted to be
just like Bruce Lee:’ African Americans, Kung Fu Theater and Cultural Exchange at the
Margins.” Journal of Asian American Studies 5, no. 1 (2002): 31-40; “Bruce Lee in the Ghetto
Connection: Kung Fu Theater and African Americans Reinventing Culture at the Margins,” in
East Main Street: Asian American Popular Culture, ed. Dave Shilpa, Leilani Nishime, and
Tasha G. Oren (New York: New York: UP, 2005), 249-261; and Heike Raphael-Hernandez and
Shannon Steen, eds. AfroAsian Encounters: Culture, History, Politics (New York: New York
UP, 2006).
81
Greg Tate’s collection Everything but the Burden: What White People are Taking From Black
Culture (New York: Broadway, 2003) argues that black popular music (i.e., rock n roll, jazz, and
hip-hop) have been pillaged by whites. Entertainers such as Elvis, Vanilla Ice and Eminem are
discussed as popular icons benefiting from the theft of black culture. Bakari Kitwana’s Why
White Kids Love Hip-Hop: Wankstas, Wiggers, Wannabes, and the New Reality of Race in
America (New York: Basic Civitas Books, 2005) signals the coming of a new racial politic
influenced hip-hop; however, he continues Tate’s argument that whites are appropriating hip-hop
culture. Such reactionary claims are understandable given the racial hierarchies present in
American society; however, such claims overlook and dismiss interactions between various
peoples of different ethnicities and races competing in the hip-hop genre. Such essentialist
claims argue for a static notion of culture denying cultural dynamism.

151

82

Guthrie and Hutchinson’s essay (2006) explores the attitudes held by African Americans of
Asian Americans living in a San Francisco low-income housing complex. The study found that
Asian Americans were viewed as benefiting from resources and employment opportunities
earmarked for African Americans. Additionally, all Asian Americans were seen as Chinese,
unable to acclimate to American lifestyles, and crowded large families into their apartments.
African Americans were not able to distinguish between newly arrived migrants and long-term
residents. See Patricia Guthrie and Janis Hutchinson, “The Impact of Perceptions on
Interpersonal Interactions in an African American/Asian American Housing Project,” in Blacks
and Asians: Crossings, Conflict and Commonality, ed. Hazel M. McFerson (Durham, NC:
Carolina Academic Press, 2006), 303-317.
83
A number of crimes perpetuated by African Americans have targeted Asian Americans in the
Bay Area. During the spring and summer of 2010, the San Francisco chronicle reported a
number of these crimes and the resultant community outrage from African American and Asian
American communities. See Asimov’s “Black Attacks on Asians: Crime or Opportunity”
(2010), Nevius’ “Dirty Secret of Black-on-Asian Crime is Out” (2010), Wong’s “Oakland Street
Killing: Anger” (2010) and Egelko’s “Police Get an Earful in Bayview” (2010).
84
Interview with HA, August 26, 2009, Oakland, California.
85
86
87
88

Interview with BY, September 3, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Ibid.
Ibid.

The Bay Area is home to multiple Chinatowns. The two official Chinatowns are in Oakland
and San Francisco.
89
Interview with LM, January 12, 2010, Oakland, California.
90

Ki-Taek Chun, “The Myth of Asian American Success and Its Educational Ramifications,” in
The Asian American Educational Experience, ed. Don T. Nakashima and Tina Yamano Nishida
(New York: Routledge UP, 1995), 95.
91
See interview with Nomi of Power Struggle entitled Pinoy Hip-Hop Culture of the SF Bay
Area: Nomi (2010).
92
Keith Osajima’s essay “Asian Americans as the Model Minority: An Analysis of the Popular
Press Image in the 1960s and 1980s” (2000) explores a variety of images of Asian Americans
from its inception to its height in the 1980s.
93
Lee (1996), 9.
94

Benjamin R. Tong, “Asian American Psychology: a Critical Introduction,” in Ethnicity and
Psychology: African-, Asian-, Latino- and Native-American Psychologies, ed. Kenneth P.
Montero (Dubuque, Iowa: Kendall/Hunt Publishing, 1996), 120.
95
For an example of how the concept is addressed by non-profit organizations applying for
federal monies, see the August 2007 Data Report entitled Under the Microscope: Asian and
Pacific Islander Youth in Oakland: Needs, Issues, Solutions.
96
Meyer Weinberg, Asian-American Education: Historical Background and Current Realities
(Mahwah, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers, 1997), 315.

152

97

Bob Suzuki, “Revisiting the Model Minority Stereotype: Implications for Student Affairs
Practice and Higher Education,” in Working with Asian American College Students, ed. Marylu
K. McEwen, et al. (San Francisco: Wiley Periodicals, Inc., 2002), 24.
98
Shalini Shankar, “Remodeling the Model Minority Stereotype,” in Desi Land: Teen Culture,
Class, and Success in Silicon Valley (Durham, CT: Duke UP, 2008), 146.
99
Frank Wu, “Forward,” in Blacks and Asians: Crossings, Conflict and Commonality. Blacks
and Asians: Crossings, Conflict and Commonality, ed. Hazel M. McFerson (Durham, NC:
Carolina Academic Press, 2006), xvi.
100
Stacey J. Lee, “Forward,” in Model Minority Myth Revisited: An Interdisciplinary Approach
to Demystifying Asian American Educational Experiences, ed. Guofang Li and Lihshing Wang
(Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing Inc., 2008), x. For additional insights into the
model minority myth as it applies to Asian Americans in higher education see Dana Takagi’s
The Retreat from Race: Asian American Admissions and Racial Politics (New York: Routledge
UP, 1993).
101
Bascara (2006) contends that Asian Americans serve as an inspiration story of transformation
from undesirable aliens into model citizens. See Victor Bascara, Model-Minority Imperialism
(Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2006), 1.
102
Glenn Omatsu, “The ‘Four Prisons’ and the Movements of Liberation: Asian American
Activism from the 1960s to the 1990s,” in Contemporary Asian America: A Multidisciplinary
2nd
Reader.
ed, ed. Min Zhou and J.V. Gatewood (New York: New York Up, 2007), 84-85.
103

See Youngsuk Chae, “Cultural Economies of Model Minority Creation,” in Politicizing
Asian American Literature: Towards a Critical Multiculturalism (New York: Routledge, 2008),
19-30 for additional insights into the model minority myth, class and interethnic relationships.
104
Jeung’s (2002) ethnographic study of Southeast Asian gang youth in East Oakland reveals
the use of “Ebonics” utilized by the youth. Phrases such as “in the house,” “what’s up cuz” and
“mop” (attack) speak to the cross-cultural appropriation of black language but also taking on
such language as a means for survival. The essay explores the marginality of Southeast Asian
youth wedged between a predominately Latino and black neighborhood situated within the larger
American (i.e., white) majority. See Russell Jeung, “Southeast Asians in the House: Multiple
Layers of Identity,” in Contemporary Asian American Communities: Intersections and
Divergences, ed. Linda Trinh Võ and Rick Bonus (Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2002), 60-74.
105
Interview with HA, August 26, 2009, Oakland, California.
106
107

Ibid.

Such populations were a direct result of the United States incursions into Laos and Cambodia
during the Vietnam War. Refugee populations from Southeast Asia tended to resettle in the lowincome neighborhoods of East Oakland and San Francisco’s Tenderloin District.
108
Interview with BY, September 3, 2009, San Francisco, California.
109
110
111

Interview with HA, August 26, 2009, Oakland, California.
Interview with BY, September 3, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Ibid.

153

112
113

Interview with HA, August 26, 2009, Oakland, California.

For a comprehensive history of Bay Area hip-hop see Eric K. Arnold’s “From Azeem to
Zion-I: the Evolution of Global Consciousness in the Bay Area Hip Hop,” in The Vinyl Ain’t
Final: Hip-hop and the Globalisation of Black Popular Culture, ed. Dipannita Basu and Sidney
J. Lemelle (London: Pluto Press, 2006), 71-84.
114
Interview with BY, September 3, 2009, San Francisco, California.
115
116
117
118

Ibid.
Interview with HA, August 26, 2009, Oakland, California.
Interview with TJ, August 23, 2009, San Francisco, California.

Thien-bao Thuc Phi, “Yellow Lines: Asian Americans and Hip Hop,” in Afro Asia:
Revolutionary Political Practices Between African Americans and Asian Americans, ed. Bill V.
Mullen and Fred Ho (Durham: Duke Up, 2008), 296.
119
Interview with TJ, August 23, 2009, San Francisco, California.
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129

Interview with VB, August 23, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Interview with JS, August 29, 2009, Alameda, California.
Interview with LL, August 26, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Interview with VB, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Interview with HA, August 26, 2009, Oakland, California.
Ibid.
Ibid.

“Veteranos” is the Tagalog term to describe Filipino American veterans of WWII. For
insights into the long fight for reparations for Filipino American veterans see David A.
Pendelton’s “Reparations for Veterans,” in The Filipinos, ed. (Michelle E. Houle, New York:
Greenhaven Press, 2007), 89-93. For an interview with Black Eyed Peas rapper Apl.ed.ap see
Benjamin Pitmentel’s “Apl.ed.ap: Hip-Hop Musician,” in The Filipinos, edited by Michelle E.
Houle (New York: Greenhaven Press, 2007), 152-158.
130
This public service announcement aired in May 2005 on KTSF.
131
132

Interview with BY, September 3, 2009, San Francisco, California.

Elaine H. Kim, “At Least You’re Not Black: Asian Americans in U.S. Race Relations.”
Blacks and Asians: Crossings, Conflict and Commonality, ed. by Hazel M. McFerson (Durham,
NC: Carolina Academic Press, 2006), 203.
133
Kim, 205.
“We Are Family:” the Asian American DJ Scene
134

De Leon (2004) documents the trend of mobile DJ units in Los Angeles during this period.

154

See Lakandiwa L. De Leon, “Filipinotown and the DJ Scene: Expression and Identity
Affirmation of Filipino American Youth in Los Angeles,” in Asian American Youth: Culture,
Identity, and Ethnicity, edited by Jennifer Lee and Min Zhou (New York: Routledge, 2004), 191206.
135
See Bonnie Thorton Dill, “Fictive Kin, Paper Sons, and Compadrazgo: Women of Color and
the Struggle for Family Survival,” in American Families: A Multicultural Reader, ed. Stephanie
Coontz, Maya Parson and Gabrielle Raley, 25-38. New York: Routledge, 2008. Also see
Evelvn Nakano Glenn, “Split Household, Small Producer and Dual Wage Earner: An Analsyis of
Chinese-American Family Strategies,” in American Families: A Multicultural Reader, ed.
Stephanie Coontz, Maya Parson and Gabrielle Raley, 81-95 (New York: Routledge, 2008). For
additional survival strategies employed by Asians in America see Ronald Takaki, Strangers from
a Different Shore: A History of Asian Americans (New York: Penguin, 1989) and Sucheng Chan,
Asian Americans: An Interpretive History (Boston: G.K. Hall and Co., 1991).
136
Naomi Gerstel and Natalia Sarkisian, “The Color of Family Ties: Race, Class, Gender, and
Extended Family Involvement,” in American Families: A Multicultural Reader, ed. Stephanie
Coontz, Maya Parson and Gabrielle Raley (New York: Routledge, 2008), 452.
137
Charles Keyes, Rap Music and Street Consciousness (Urbana: University of Illinois Press,
2002), 141.
138
Interview with GK, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
139
140
141
142
143
144

Interview with LL, August 26, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Interview with AG, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Interview with AD, January 21, 2010, San Francisco, California.
Interview with AG, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Ibid.

Anderson (2009) argues that raves came out of the repressive air of the Reagan
Administration.
145
Interview with AG, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
146
147
148
149
150

Ibid.
Interview with LL, August 26, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Interview with AG, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
See the online video The Very First DJ Band: DJ Q-bert, Mix Master Mike, Apollo in 1992.

Keyes (2002) argues that ethnicity should not play a factor in “evaluating one’s mastery of
turntablism.” See, 228. ISP’s marketing tactics until the end of the twentieth century
demonstrated this approach on a number of releases
151
Keyes, 118. Many journalists of DJ centered magazines such as Urb and Mixmag, however,
referred to the movement as “turntablism” as early as 1995. To add to the mystique of the term,
DJs Disk and Babu both claim to have coined the term “turntablist.” Price (2006) claims that DJ
Babu is “often credited with the discovery of the term.” Emmett G. Price, Hip Hop Culture
(Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, 2006), 27.

155

152
153
154

Interview with SK, August 19, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Ibid.

Proposition 187 denied undocumented from accessing federal assistance. Proposition 227
declared English as the only language to be allowed on voting materials. Proposition 209 ended
Affirmative Action practices across the university system. Proposition 227 declared that English
would be the only language to be used in voting materials.
155
See Hard Knock Television’s interview with DJ Rhettmatic of the Beat Junkies entitled DJ
Rhettmatic on Asian Americans in Hip-Hop (2010).
156
Interview with AD, January 21, 2010, San Francisco, California.
157

Sharma (2010) notes that many Desi (South Asian Americans) cultivate cultural capital in
order to gain entry within hip-hop circles. This notion also applies to Asian Americans hip-hop
artists. See Nitasha Tamar Sharma, Hip Hop Desis: South Asian Americans, Blackness, and a
Global Race Consciousness (Durham: Duke UP, 2010).
158
See http://www.djqbert.com/#press for a collection of interviews with DJ Qbert.
159
160

See the Cut’s DJ Qbert Full Interview (2011) online at http://vimeo.com/21672961

See Janine Khan’s “Friday Night: DJ Q-Bert at the Independent” (2008) and Samantha
Campos, “King of Scratch: Turntable Master Innovator, DJ Qbert” (2004).
161
See Pete Miser’s “VIVA! La Nerd Hip Hop Revolution!” (2005).
162

See Sucker Punch TVs (SPTV) interview entitled DJ Q-Bert SPTV (2011) online at
http://vimeo.com/25433706.
163
See Womp TV’s interview entitled Quick and Dirty Vol.03: Qbert (2011) online at
http://womptv.com/2011/06/01/quick-dirty-vol-03-qbert/
164
Ibid.
165
166
167

See Peter Hartlaub’s interview with Qbert entitled “Qbert Talks About DJ Hero 2” (2010).
See the Cut’s DJ Qbert Full Interview (2011).

See Mariol Rañoa-Bismark’s “DJ Qbert is in the House” (2010) and Losorata Yugel’s
“Balikbayan DJ Qbert ‘Scratches’ at Hip Club” (2010). Higgins (2009) writes, “The Philippines
boasts the oldest rap scene in Southeast Asia perhaps due to its relationship to the U.S.” See
Dalton Higgins, Hip Hop World (Berkeley: Groundwood Books, 2009), 40.
168
Interview with SK, August 19, 2009, San Francisco, California.
169

Edward Said’s highly influential text Orientalism (New York: Vintage, 1979) contends that
notions of Occident and the Orient produced a system of knowledge rooted in difference. Said’s
work focuses on the power relationships between Europe (the West) and the East (the ‘Orient’
now commonly referred to the Middle East) and has resultantly influence scholarship
highlighting notions of the Orient. Such notions influence popular culture the trends in fashion
and music called “Indo Chic” and “Asian Chic.” Recent scholarship focusing on “Indo Chic” in
popular music of the United Kingdom include the collection Sanjay Sharma, et al., Dis-Orienting
Rhythms: the Politics of the New Asian Dance Music (London: Zed Books, 1996); Rehan Hyder,
Brimful of Asia: Negotiating Ethnicity on the UK Scene (Aldershot, England: Ashgate, 2004);

156

and Ian Collinson, “Dis is England’s New Voice: Anger, Activism and the Asian Dub
Foundation,” in Sonic Synergies: Music, Technology, Community, Identity, ed. Gerry Bloustien,
Margaret Peters and Susan Luckman (Aldershot, England: Ashgate, 2008), 105-113. For an
example of how “Indo-Chic” manifests in the United States through fashion and music see
Rachel Rubin and Jeffrey Melnick, “Monterey 1967: The Hippies Meet Ravi Shankar,” in
Immigration and American Popular Culture: an Introduction, (New York: New York UP, 2007),
129-175. For examples of “Asian-chic” and Orientalism in hip-hop see Deborah Elizabeth
Whaley, “Black Bodies/Yellow Masks: The Orientalist Aesthetic in Hip-Hop and Black Visual
Culture,” in Afroasian Encounters: Culture, History, Politics, ed. Heike Raphael-Hernandez and
Shannon Steen (New York: New York UP, 2006), 188-203.
170
The model minority myth combined with stereotypical images situates Asians in America as
a unique marginalized racial group. As a result, many Asian Americans seek inspiration in
popular culture originating from Asia and its diapsoras. For example, amongst many music
collections one could find releases by Ryuichi Sakamoto of Yellow Magic Orchestra, Asian Dub
Foundation, M.I.A., and DJ Krush.
171
Notions of Asian homogeneity have been discussed in Asian American Studies and Cultural
Studies. Chung (2000) argues that Asian Americans are not a homogenous community. See
Tom L. Chung, “Asian Americans in Enclaves-They Are Not One Community: New Modes of
Asian American Settlement,” in Asian Americans: Experiences and Perspectives, ed. Timothy P.
Fong and Larry H. Shinagawa (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2000), 99. Huq (2006)
notes that notions of community perpetuate ideas of Asian homogeneity that she describes as the
“hollowness of homogeneity.” See Rupa Huq, Beyond Subculture: Pop, Youth, and Identity in a
Postcolonial World (New York: Routledge, 2006), 41. While these critiques are true, both fail to
recognize how Asians and Asian Americans employ homogeneity as an act of solidarity.
172
For an in-depth analysis of record collecting in Japan see Shuhei Hosokawa and Hideaki
Matsuoka, “Vinyl Record Collecting as Material Practice: The Japanese Case,” in Fanning the
flames: Fans and Consumer Culture in Contemporary Japan, ed. William W. Kelly (Albany:
State University of New York Press, 2004), 151-167.
173
William W. Kelly, ed., Fanning the Flames: Fans and Consumer Culture in Contemporary
Japan (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004), 195. For studies on Otaku culture
see Ian Condry, Hip-Hop Japan: Rap and the Paths of Cultural Globalization (Durham: Duke
UP, 2006) and “B-Boys and B-Girls Fandom and Consumer Culture in Japan,” in Fanning the
Flames: Fans and Consumer Culture in Contemporary Japan, ed. William W. Kelly (Albany:
State University of New York Press, 2004), 17-39.
174
Many domestic workers and prostitutes from the Philippines work in Japan. This influences
prejudice and racist attitudes among some Japanese against Filipinos.
175
Interview with YA, October 10, 2006, San Francisco, California.
176
177
178

Ibid.
See Sam Chennault “Revolutions” (2005).

V! (2009) writes, “Little Saigon has become the largest Asian business district in the county
and rivals those in nearby Los Angeles. Vietnamese from surrounding Los Angeles, San
Bernardino, Riverside, and San Diego counties flock to this area for their shopping and social

157

needs, but it also attracts a fair number of regular out-of-state visitors, who come to socialize
with relatives and friends as well as to buy ethnic goods.” See Linda Trinh V!, “Transforming
an Ethnic Community: Little Saigon, Orange County,” in Asian America: Forming New
Communities, Expanding Boundaries, ed. Huping Ling (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 2009),
89.
179
Interview with EN, September 2, 2010, Westminster, California.
180
181
182

Ibid.
Interview with SK, August 19, 2009, San Francisco, California.

See Minister of Information JR, “Fresher than Ever: An Interview wit DJ Fresh of the Whole
Shabang.” Sfbayview.com, July 9, 2009.
183
Interview with YA, October 10, 2006, San Francisco, California.
Getting Up: Asian Americans Graffiti Artists Claiming Space
184
185
186
187

Other interpretations of TDK include Tax Dollars Kill and Teach Dem Kulture.
Interview with AD, January 21, 2010, San Francisco, California.
Artists within the graffiti scene refer to the culture as “graf” (shorthand for graffiti).

The exact year graffiti became a felony is dependant on the discretion of local law
enforcement. In 1994 the passage of Proposition 184 (known as the Three Strikes Law) in
California resulted in sharp increase in arrests for repeat offenders. The political climate of the
period allowed the police to define graffiti as a felony based upon the amount of damage caused
to property. The San Francisco Public Works Code article 23 1303(a) 1994 stipulates, “Graffiti
is detrimental to the health, safety, and welfare of the community in that it promotes a perception
in the community that the laws protecting public and private property can be disregarded with
impunity. This perception fosters a sense of disrespect of the law that results in an increase in
crime; degrades the community and leads to urban blight; is detrimental to property values,
business opportunities, and the enjoyment of life; is consistent with the City’s property
maintenance goals and aesthetic standards; and results in additional graffiti […] in visual
pollution and is hereby deemed a public nuisance. Graffiti must be abated as quickly as possible
to avoid detrimental impacts.” See J. Tony Serra, “Graffiti and U.S. Law,” in Trepass: A History
of Uncommissioned Urban Art ed. Ethel Seno (Los Angeles: Taschen, 2010), 311.
188
Murray Forman, The ‘Hood Comes First: Race, Space, and Place in Rap and Hip-Hop
(Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 2002), 2.
189
See interview with Mike “Dream” Francisco entitled Mike Dream of TDK Thoughts on
Writing.
190
Nancy McDonald, “The Graffiti Subculture: Making a World of Difference,” in The
Subcultures Reader, ed. Ken Gelder (New York: Routledge, 2005), 313.
191
Lewisohn, 43.
192

Walsh (1996) provides definitions and a glossary in regards to popular graffiti techniques
representative of the Bay Area graffiti scene.

158

193

Twist’s global fame was captured by a two international graffiti publications: the German
independent graffiti magazine entitled Blitzkrieg (1996-1997) and the UK based Graphotoism
International (1996).
194
Lewisohn, 81.
195
196
197
198

Lewisohn, 100.
See “Writing is My Life” by Mike Dream at the Lightsleepers Forum.
See Mike ‘Dream’ Francisco Interview.

Cooper and Sciorra (1994) write, “the memorial wall transforms personal grief into shared
public sentiment by serving as a vehicle for community affiliation and potential empowerment.”
See Martha Cooper and Joseph Sciorra, R.I.P.: Memorial Wall Art (New York: Henry Holt and
Co., Inc., 1994), 14.
199
Nicole Sellers, Akil’s mother, later succumbed to breast cancer.
200
201
202

This song and video are also known as I Wanna Be Like Mike and Be Like Mike Dream.
See interview with Barry McGee in the documentary Beautiful Losers (2008).

Eungie Joo and Joseph Keehn II, eds, Rethinking Contemporary Art and Multicultural
Education (New York: Routledge, 2011), 151. Twist’s work was featured throughout Jon
Moritsugu’s independent film Terminal USA (1993).
203
See the interview with Barry McGee by the Public Broadcasting System program Art21
entitled Graffiti online at http://www.pbs.org/art21/artists/mcgee/clip1.html.
204
For an example of how graffiti culture manifested in the Bay Area before the influence of
hip-hop culture see Jennifer Blowdryer’s section entitled “Cholo,” in Modern English: A Trendy
Slang Dictionary (San Francisco: Last Gasp, 1986) and Chaz Bojórquez, Gusmano Ceasaretti,
Estevan Oriol and Cheech Marin’s “Cholo Graffiti,” in Art in the Streets, ed. Jeffrey, Dietch,
Roger Gastman, and Aaron Rose (New York: Skira Rizzoli Publications, Inc., 2011), 144-161.
Also see the Interview with graffiti artist Cuba in which he briefly discusses the San Francisco
graffiti scene before the influence of hip-hop culture by Gregory Thomas. See
http://missionlocal.org/2011/02/cuba-graffiti-artist-evolved/.
205
See http://www.pbs.org/art21/artists/mcgee/clip1.html.
206

Anicee Gaddis and Cladue Grunitzky, “Space Invaders,” in Transculturalism: How the
World is Coming Together, ed. Claude Grunitzky, (New York: Powerhouse Books, 2004), 171.
207
See Eungie Joo’s interview with Barry McGee in the exhibition booklet Barry McGee
Regards (Minneapolis: Walker Art Center, 1998), 5.
208
Ibid. Twist has also mentored other graffiti artists within his crew THR (The Harsh Reality)
in particular Amaze. See Stephen J. Powers, The Art of Getting Over: Graffiti at the Millennium
(New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999), 53. See also Barry McGee, T.H.R. (New York:
Distributed Art Publishers, Inc., 2010). He has also influenced graffiti artists around the world
from as far as Italy and São Paulo. See the Preface to Dumbo: Acts of Vandalism and Stories of
Love (Bologna, Italy: Damiani, 2007) and Sebastian Peiter, “Os Gêmeos,” in Guerilla Art
(Lawrence King Publishing, Ltd., 2009), 44.
209
Ibid.
159

210
211

Joo, 6.

Danny Hoch, “Toward a Hip-Hop Aesthetic: A Manifesto for the Hip-Hop Arts Movement,”
in Total Chaos: The Art and Aesthetics of Hip-Hop, ed. Jeff Chang (New York: Basic Civitas
Books, 2006), 351.
212
J. Tony Serra writes, “government considers graffiti a ‘blight,’ ‘detrimental to property
values,’ and ‘visual pollution’ in a wholly one-sided, off-balance, and alarmist perspective.” See
“Graffiti and U.S. Law,” in Trespass: A History of Uncommissioned Urban Art, ed. Ethel Seno
(Los Angeles: Taschen, 2010), 311.
213
Gaddis and Grunitzky, 171.
214

See Art21 interview with Barry McGee entitled Public and Private Space online at
http://www.pbs.org/art21/artists/mcgee/clip2.html.
215
Ibid.
216

See interview with Barry McGee from the 2008 exhibition in Japan at The Watari Museum
of Contemporary Art online at http://www Watarium.co.jp/exhibition/0706_mcgee_en.html.
217
Joo, 5.
218

See Art21 video interview with entitled Barry McGee installation at UCLA online at
http://www.pbs.org/art21/artists/mcgee/clip2.html
219
Aaron Rose, “Barry McGee Talks with Aaron Rose,” in Art in the Streets, ed. Jeffrey,
Dietch, Roger Gastman, and Aaron Rose (New York: Skira Rizzoli Publications, Inc., 2011),
215.
220
Rose, 215.
Dancing with Swagger: Asian American Dance Crews
221

Sally Banes, “Breaking” in That’s the Joint!: The Hip-Hop Studies Reader, edited by Murray
Forman and Mark Anthony Neal (New York: Routledge, 2004), 13.
222
Toop (1991) criticizes that breakdancing was used as a marketing gimmick. David Toop,
Rap Attack 2: African Rap to Global Hip Hop (London: Serpent’s Tail, 1991), 158. Tanz (2007)
argues that the oversaturation of breakdancing led to its practice in white suburbs. See Jason
Tanz, “Spin Control: A History of Breakdancing in the Suburbs,” in Other People’s Property: A
Shadow of Hip-Hop in White America (New York: Bloomsbury, 2007), 46-72.
223
Banes, 16.
224
225

See Finding History Revealing Echoes (2005) program.

Gonzalves (1997) provides an in-depth exploration of Pilipino Cultural Nights (PCN) that
feature dance among a variety of performances at San Francisco State University. See Theodore
S. Gonzalves, “The Day the Dancers Stayed: On Pilipino Cultural Nights,” in Filipino
Americans: Transformation and Identity, ed. Maria P. P. Root (London: Sage Publications,
1997), 163-182.
226
Yutian Wong, Choreographing Asian America (Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 2010), 1213.
160

227

Some Chinese American performers during the Tin Pan Alley era who sang songs were
Pickards Chinese Syncopators, Jimmy Ah Chung, Grace Moy, Harry Gee Haw, Nee Sa Long,
Lady Tsen Mei (Lady Sen Mei) and Nee Wong. These performers did not write their own songs.
Brown (2003) writes, “The efforts of Chinese Americans in vaudeville, with the exception of
Grade Moy’s “Fast Asleep in Poppyland” (1919), are noteworthy in that they sang songs about
love rather than the social ‘ills’ of the Chinese and Chinatown. These songs offer an alternative
to the Orientalist songs of the mainstream. On some levels, the performers proved that, unlike
popular misconceptions and stereotypes, Chinese could speak and sing English.” See Darren
Lee Brown, “The Heathen Chinee:” Stereotypes of Chinese in Popular Music (San Francisco:
Chinese Historical Society of America and Asian American Studies Department San Francisco
State University, 2003), 10. For additional scholarship written on American Orientalism see
John Kuo Wei Tchen’s New York before Chinatown: Orientalism and the Shaping of American
Culture, 1776-1882 (Baltimore: John Hopkins UP, 2001), Robert G. Lee’s Orientals: Asian
Americans and Popular Culture (Philadelphia: Temple UP, 1999) and James S. Moy’s Marginal
Sights: Staging the Chinese in America (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1994).
228
Mari Yoshihara, Embracing the East: White Women and American Orientalism (Oxford:
Oxford UP, 2003), 9.
229
Tchen, xxii.
230

Krystyn R. Moon, Yellowface: Creating the Chinese in American Popular Music and
Performance, 1850s-1920s (New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 2004).
231
Parreñas (1998) argues the lack of Filipino women (Filipinas) led many Filipino American
men to taxi dance halls to dance with working class white women during the 1920s and 1930s in
California. Filipino American men came from predominately bachelor communities that led to
their courtship of white women actions that were met disapproval and violence. See Rachel
Salazar Parreñas, “‘White Trash’” Meets the ‘Little Brown Monkeys:’ The Taxi Dance Hall as a
Site of Interracial and Gender Alliances between White Working Class Women and Filipino
Immigrant Men in the 1920s and 30s,’ Amerasia Journal 24 no. 2 (1998): 115-134.
232
Fiona I.B. Ngô, “The Anxiety Over Borders,” in Embodying Asian/American Sexualities, ed.
Sean Metzger and Gina Masequesmay (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2009), 93.
233
There are two music video versions of Bebot: Generation One and Generation Two. The
Tagalog word loosely translates into “sexy woman.” After the videos premiered online without
MTV exposure, some Filipino American scholars declared the videos sexist and wrote an open
letter to the Black Eyed Peas and the video producers. This outcry was met with fierce
opposition since many Filipino Americans took part in the creation of the video which featured a
number of well known Filipino American music celebrities among them, Kiwi Illafonte and
Rhettmatic of the Beat Junkies. Such contestations provide commentary on the ever-tenuous
relationship between artists and the community and the responsibility placed upon Asian
American artists to remain “politically correct.”
234
Rene Peña-Tajima, “Yellow Peril Smackdown: A Night at the Chinese American Museum,”
Hollywood Chinese: The Author Dong Collection (Los Angeles: Chinese American Museum,
2009), 17-18.
235
See Arthur Dong’s documentary Forbidden City, USA (1989).

161

236

See scholarship by Nelson George, Hip Hop America (New York: Penguin Books, 1998), 1516; Sally Banes, “Breaking,” in That’s the Joint!: The Hip-Hop Studies Reader, ed. Murray
Forman and Mark Anthony Neal (New York: Routledge, 2004), 13-20; and Michael Holman,
“Breaking: The History,” in That’s the Joint!: The Hip-Hop Studies Reader, ed. Murray Forman
and Mark Anthony Neal (New York: Routledge, 2004), 359.
237
Jorge Pabon, “Physical Graffiti: The History of Hip-Hop Dance,” in Total Chaos: The Art
and Aesthetics of Hip-Hop, ed. Jeff Chang (New York: Basic Civitas Books, 2006), 24.
238
See Onigiri (2002; 2005) and Nishime (2004) for scholarship analyzing the popular culture
influences between African Americans and Asian Americans in martial arts films.
239
Fung (1996) notes that black men and women are hyper-sexualized while Asians are
undersexed. See Richard Fung, “Looking for My Penis: The Eroticized Asian in Gay Video
Porn,” in Asian American Sexualities: Dimensions of the Gay & Lesbian Experience, ed. Russell
Leong (New York: Routledge, 1996), 182. Scholars have tied the Asian American male
sexuality to the model minority myth. Metzger and Masequesmay (2009) write,
“Asian/American men might fare well economically, but sexually they are seen as undesirable
and, therefore, not really “masculine” men. In other words, while model minority discourse may
account for economic successes among Asian American men, it also reconstructs them as deviant
in terms of their sexuality.” See Sean Metzger and Gina Masequesmay, “Introduction:
Embodying Asian/American Sexualities,” in Embodying Asian/American Sexualities, ed. Sean
Metzger and Gina Masequesmay (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2009), 8.
240
See Tadd’s page at http://www.wetpaint.com/so-you-think-you-can-dance/cast/taddgadduang.
241
Interview with AD, January 21, 2010, San Francisco, California.
242

Banes, 16. Haskins (1990) notes Afrika Bambaataa created “break dance.” He would
command rivaling gangs to “break” and dance instead of fighting. See James Haksins, Black
Dance in America: A History Through Its People (New York: Harper Collins, 1990), 188-189.
243
Interview with AD, January 21, 2010, San Francisco, California.
244
245
246
247
248
249
250

Interview with AG, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Interview with GK, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Interview with AD, January 21, 2010, San Francisco, California.
Interview with AG, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
See Mallare (2008).
See Tsai (2008).

Grace Wang (2009) argues Asian and Asian American parents encourage the pursuit of
classical music due to its association with whiteness. See “Interlopers in the Realm of High
Culture: ‘Music Moms’ and the Performance of Asian and Asian American Identities.”
American Quarterly 61 no.4 (2009): 881-903.
251
Wong, 16.
252

See Mallare (2008).

162

253

Ibid.

Repping the Bay: Asian Americans and Hip-Hop Authenticity
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261

Hess (2007), 165.
See video The Underground: Closer Look Into Bay Area Hip Hop (2009).
See video The Underground Know Your History (2011).
Ibid.
See Tuan (1999).
See Nump Interview (2009) by Sick Mix.
Mike Conway, “Fighting Without Martyrs.” Shout 5 (2006): 19.

The term “soujourners” was originally used to describe Chinese who came to “Gold
Mountain” (America) to work, earn money and return to China to buy land. This term was also
used to describe other migrants from Asia to the US. See Harry H.L. Kitano, Asian Americans:
Emerging Minorities (Upper Sale River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2001), 21-22, 204.
262
See ScoJourners EPK (2010).
263
264

Ibid.

Amoeba Records plays an integral role in the distribution of Bay Area independent hip-hop
releases. See Harrison (2009), 60-63.
265
With the passage of medical marijuana legislation in 1998, a number of entrepreneurs opened
a number of medical marijuana shops that in turn influenced the establishment of many smoke
shops that carry smoking paraphernalia such as pipes, bongs, rolling papers and vaporizers.
266
Sabeen Sandhu, “Instant Karma: The Commercialization of Indian Culture,” in Asian
American Youth: Culture, Identity, and Ethnicity, ed. Min Zhou and Jennifer Lee (New York:
Routledge, 2004), 140.
267
For in in-depth analysis of “gangsta rap” see Jeff Chang, “The Culture Assassins:
Geography, Generation and Gangsta Rap,” in Can’t Stop Won’t Stop: The History of the HipHop Generation (New York: Picador, 2005), 299-329.
268
Bad Boy Records epitomized the East Coast’s take on “gangsta rap.”
269

For an in-depth analysis of 2pac, Puff Daddy, and the war between the west and east coasts
for hip-hop supremacy see Todd Boyd’s “Can’t Knock the Hustle: Hip Hop and the Cult of Playa
Hatin’,” in The New H.N.I.C.: The Death of Civil Rights and the Reign of Hip Hop (New York:
New York UP, 2003), 61-101.
270
Sri Lankan American Skiz Fernando founded Wordsound Records after he wrote The New
Beats: Exploring the Music, Culture, and Attitudes of Hip-Hop (New York: Anchor Books,
1994) as S.H. Fernando, Jr. His film Crooked (2002) is a fictional account of an independent
hip-hop artist trying to become successful in the hip-hop industry by tricking a major record
label mogul.
271
William Wei, The Asian American Movement (Philadelphia: Temple UP, 1993), 64.

163

272

For an overview of the

100th 442nd

442nd

see Thelma Chang, “I Can Never Forget:” Men of the

/
(Honolulu, HI: Sigi Productions, Inc., 1991). Japanese internment camps have also
been described as America’s concentration camps. See Roger Daniels, Concentration Camps
USA: Japanese Americans and WWII (New York: Holt, Reinhart and Winston, 1972).
273
Marcus Reeves, Somebody Scream!: Rap Music’s Rise to Prominence in the Aftershock of
Black Power (New York: Faber and Faber, Inc., 2008), 44.
274
Danny Hoch. “Toward a Hip-Hop Aesthetic: A Manifesto for the Hip-Hop Arts Movement,”
in Total Chaos: The Art and Aesthetics of Hip-Hop, ed. Jeff Chang (New York: Basic Civitas
Books, 2006), 359.
275
Scholars have written about the salience of hip-hop culture in the lives of American youth
and how such a phenomenon allows for the innovation of educational programming within
school curriculum. See Marc Lamont Hill, Beats, Rhymes, and Classroom Life: Hip-Hop
Pedagogy and the Politics of Identity (New York: Teachers College Press, 2009) and Greg
Dimitriadis, “Popular Culture, Constructions of Place, and the Lives of Urban Youth,” in
Performing Identity/Performing Culture: Hip Hop as Text, Pedagogy, and Lived Practice (New
York: Peter Lang Publishing, Inc., 2001), 35-65.
276
Interview with AD, January 21, 2010, San Francisco, California.
277
278

Interview with AG, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Ibid.

Conclusion
279
280

Interview with SK, August 19, 2009, San Francisco, California.

For more on mixtape culture see Thurston Moore, Mix Tape: The Art of Cassette Culture, ed.
Thurston Moore (New York: Universe, 2005).
281
See Tara Sinn’s zine Lycheenaut: Glamour Aliens Pop (San Francisco: Self-published,
1998), 22.
282
I would like to thank Hubert V. Yee for his assistance in translating the Cantonese sample
used in Andre Nickatina’s “Sun Duck Kim.”
283
Howard L. Bingham, Black Panthers 1968. Los Angeles: AMMO Books, 2009.
284
285
286
287
288
289

For a documentary on Richard Aoki see the documentary film Aoki (2009).
Interview with HA, August 26, 2009, Oakland, California.
Interview with LJ, September 2, 2009, Oakland, California.
Interview with AG, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Interview with GK, September 6, 2009, San Francisco, California.
Ibid.

164

APPENDICES

!

"#$!

APPENDIX A
FIGURES

!

"##!

For interpretation of the references to color in this and all other figures, the reader is referred to
the electronic version of this dissertation.

Figure 1: The use of second hand gear is often referred to as “doing it dirt style.” A six-channel
Gemini mixer sits between the Technics turntable and a Sanyo turntable. Elementary school
headphones rest upon his head.

Figure 2: A large banner adorns the corner of a wall in the Asian Resource Center during the
second night of civil unrest stemming from the killing of Oscar Grant (2009).

!

"#%!

Figure 3: A portrait of Chinese American policeman found on Ann Sherry’s “Gold Mountain”
mural (1994) is defaced with graffiti tags (2009).

Figure 4: Respect the Culture (2011) celebrates twenty-seven years of writing history. Among
the writers are Dream, Spie, and Crayone – all writers of Asian Pacific Islander ancestry.

!

"#&!

Figure 5: Hip Hop Holistic care of Asian Health Services Youth Program, the Spot, 2001.

!

"#'!

APPENDIX B

CONSENT FORMS AND INTERVIEW QUESTIONS

!

"%(!

IRB # x09-707 / app # i025997 CONSENT FORM
Thank you for participating in research on Asian Americans in hip-hop culture that is
being conducted by Darren Brown, M.A., Michigan State University. Of course, your
participation is strictly voluntary. You may choose not to participate at all or to terminate your
participation at any time without penalty. In addition, you may refuse to answer any particular
questions. By signing the form below, you give your permission to include any recordings,
transcriptions, and/or photographs made by Darren Brown or his representatives in Brown’s
collection to be used for scholarly and educational purposes only. While this collection is
currently intended as data for Brown’s Ph.D. dissertation, examples of other possible uses
include publications, exhibits, educational packets for schools and/or community groups, and
educational media programs such as video, slideshows, or public radio.
By giving your permission you do not give up any copyright or performance rights that
you may hold.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The amount of time my participation will take and what I will do have been explained to
me. Any special conditions regarding use of my materials are listed below. Otherwise, I agree to
the terms described above
Date_______________________

Signature ________________________

Researcher name______________________ Printed name ____________________
Address _________________________
City, State, Zip____________________
[ ] You may not use the materials I provided in a project or publication unless I am notified.
[ ] You may not use my name in association with my materials.
[ ] You may record the interview with audio/visual equipment and take photographs
SPECIAL CONDITIONS:
For questions or concerns that may be raised by participating in the study, contact: Dr. Michael
Largey, 313 Music Practice Building, Michigan State University, East Lansing, MI 48824 (517)
353-9013, largey@msu.edu. You may contact Mr. Brown, American Studies, 229 Bessey Hall,
Michigan State University, East Lansing, Michigan, (510) 593-5720, brownd60@msu.edu.

!

"%"!

i025997
Asian Americans in hip-hop of the San Francisco Bay Area
Interview questions:
Personal background
1. What is your full name?
2. Where and when were you born?
3. Where did you grow up?
4. What do your parents do for a living?
5. What do you do for a living?
6. What jobs have you had?
Migration to the US
7. If you were born in the US, when did your family move to the US? To the Bay Area? If
you weren’t born in the US, how did you come to live here?
8. Where did you and/or your family first settle in the US?
9. Did you migrate as a child?
10. When did you move to the Bay Area?
11. If you were born in outside of the US, why did you move to the US?
12. What did you bring with you from your home country?
13. What family members came with you or stayed behind in your home country?
14. What are some of your first memories of moving to the US?
15. When you arrived in the US, did other families offer their assistance?
16. What community based organizations did your family access?
17. Have you returned to your home country?
18. If you were born here, have you ever visited your country of origin? How was that
experience?
19. What are some activities that link you to your home country?
Local history
20. Describe the place where you grew up. What was it like? How has it changed?
21. What community traditions are celebrated today? How long have they been going on?
How have they changed? Who is involved? Why are they important to the community?
22. How have historical events affected your family and community?
Cultural activities
23. What traditions have you made an effort to keep? Why?
24. Do you eat Asian food at home? What types of dishes do you eat? Are there any Asian
restaurants in your neighborhood and, if so, do Asians frequent them?
25. Are there traditions that you have given up or changed? Why?
26. What languages do you speak?
27. Do you speak a different language in different settings? Why?
28. Are there any expressions, jokes, or stories where a certain language is used?

!

"%)!

29. How are holidays celebrated by your family? What are the most important holidays?
30. Do you have any photo albums, scrapbooks, home movies, websites? Who made them?
What events are documented?
31. Are you active in any Asian American groups in California? Internationally? Locally?
What are they? What do these groups do? Are they open to non-Asian Americans?
32. Of the Asian American groups you participate in, which are involved with activities in
outside of the US? In California? What types of activities do these groups engage in?
33. Which of the following organizations are you involved in? Which, to your knowledge,
are still in existence?
Pusod
Kearney Street Workshop
Asian American Theater Company
Bindlestiff Studios
Asian Health Services
Filipinos for Affirmative Action
Pilipino American Collegiate Endeavor
Asian Student Union
34. Do you get involved with U.S. politics on a local level? In California politics? In
national politics?
35. Are there any Asian American newspapers in California? Other publications?
36. Radio stations that cater to Asian American listeners?
37. What other non-Asian American cultural groups work with Asian Americans in
California? What types of projects do they collaborate on?
38. What are some of the challenges facing Asian Americans in the Bay Area?
39. How important is it to you to promote Asian American culture and issues facing young
Asian Americans?
40. How do Asian American organizations in the Bay Area keep young Asian Americans
involved in their culture?
Hip-hop culture
41. How did you get involved in hip-hop culture?
42. What are some of the artists that inspired you?
43. Can you name particular songs, graffiti pieces, breakers, MCs, singers which inspired
you? If so, were they Asian American?
44. Describe the hip-hop scene in the Bay Area? How does the scene apply to Asian
Americans?
45. Describe the Asian American hip-hop community of the Bay Area.
46. How would you describe your hip-hop activism? Local? Global? What issues do you see
integral to your endeavors?
47. Has your work received coverage in Asian American media? If so, what publications?
48. Have you ever worked closely with Asian American community based organizations? If
so, how was that process?
49. How do you produce your work?
50. How do you distribute your work?
51. How do you promote your work?
52. What challenges do you face being involved in hip-hop culture?

!

"%*!

53. How have your parents and/or relatives reacted to your involvement in hip-hop culture?
54. Do you have any recollections of going to shows or other hip-hop events? What are
some events that you find representative of hip-hop culture in the Bay Area?
55. Do you know any other Asian Americans participating in hip-hop in the Bay Area?
56. What challenges do you face as an artist in and outside of the Bay Area?
57. Have you received support from organizations in or outside of Bay Area? Describe that
experience?
58. What nightclubs have you performed at? Radio shows? Colleges? Festivals? Describe
those experiences.
59. Have you ever performed outside of the Bay Area? How did that experience compare to
your previous experiences in the Bay Area?
60. Describe the defining moment of hip-hop culture in your life.

!

"%+!

Principal Investigator Assurance of An Exempt Protocol
Name of Principal Investigator: Michael Largey
Title of Project: Asian Americans in Hip-Hop of the San Francisco Bay Area
IRB #: X09-707
The Human Research Protection Program (HRPP) has deemed this project as exempt, in accord
in federal regulations of projects exempt from Institutional Review Board (IRB) review. As an
exempt protocol, the appropriate IRB will not be further involved with the review or continued
review of the projects, as long as the project maintains the properties that make it exempt.
•

•

The Principal Investigator assumes responsibility for ensuring that the research subjects
be informed of the research through a documented or undocumented consent process, if
appropriate.

•

The Principal Investigator assumes the responsibility to maintain confidentiality of the
subjects and the data, and maintain the privacy of the subjects and protection of the data
through appropriate means. If data is anonymous, the investigators will make no attempt
to identify any individuals.

•

The Principal Investigator assumes the responsibility that co-investigators and other
members of the research team adhere to the appropriate policies to protection human
subjects, maintain confidentiality and privacy, and adhere to accepted ethical standards.

•

If the Principal Investigator adds additional investigators to an exempt protocol, he/she
may inform the HRPP of the additions. This may be of particular importance to graduate
students if the Graduate School requires proof of IRB approval.

•

Any complaints from participants regarding the risk and benefits of the project must be
reported to the HRPP.

•

!

Since the HRPP is no longer involved in the review and continued review of this project,
it is the Principal Investigator who assumes the responsibilities of protection human
subjects in this project and ensures that the project is performed with integrity and within
accepted ethical standards, particularly as outlined by the Belmont Report (see exempt
educational materials).

Since the Principal Investigator and co-investigators are charged with human subject
protection and adhering to ethical principles in exempt research, it is appropriate that
investigators be trained in human subject principles. The Principal Investigator and all
members of the research team are required to complete MSU IRB educational
requirements or equivalent.

"%$!

•

Any change in the protocol which may raise the project from exempt to an expedited or
full review category must be presented to the HRPP. If there is any question about a
change in protocol the Principal Investigator should consult the Director of the HRPP.
Failure to submit changes which raise the protocol out of the exempt category will be
considered non-compliance and will be subject to investigation and action by the HRPP.

By signing below, the Principal Investigator assures that he/she will abide by the terms of this
assurance and the HRPP exempt policy.
____________________________________
Signature of Principal Investigator

_____________________
Date
05/05/05

!

"%#!

BIBLIOGRAPHY

!

"%%!

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Abelmann, Nancy and John Lie. Blue Dreams: Korean Americans and Los Angeles. Boston:
Harvard UP, 1997.
Alvarez, Alvin N. “Racial Identity and Asian Americans: Supports and Challenges.” In
Working with Asian American College Students, edited by Marylu K. McEwen, Corinne
Maekawa Kodama, Alvin N. Alvarez, Sunny Lee, and Christopher T.H. Liang, 33-43.
San Francisco: Wiley Periodicals, Inc., 2002.
Andersen, Tammy L. Rave Culture: The Alteration and Decline of a Philadelphia Music Scene.
Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2009.
Arnold, Eric K. “From Azeem to Zion-I: the Evolution of Global Consciousness in the Bay Area
Hip Hop.” In The Vinyl Ain’t Final: Hip-hop and the Globalisation of Black Popular
Culture, edited by Dipannita Basu and Sidney J. Lemelle, 71-84. London: Pluto Press,
2006.
Asimov, Nanette. “Black Attacks on Asians.” Sfgate.com, May, 2, 2010.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/05/02/MNF31D6V5F.DTL
Bachu, Parminder. Dangerous Designs: Asian Women Fashion the Diaspora Economies. New
York: Routledge, 2004.
Banes, Sally. “Breaking.” In That’s the Joint!: The Hip-Hop Studies Reader, edited by Murray
Forman and Mark Anthony Neal, 13-20. New York: Routledge, 2004.
Bascara, Victor. Model-Minority Imperialism. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press,
2006.
Baulch, Emma. Making Scenes: Reggae, Punk, and Death Metal in 1990s Bali. Durham: Duke
UP, 2007.
Bingham, Howard L. Black Panthers 1968. Los Angeles: AMMO Books, 2009.
Blitzkreig 3. 183 Publications, Christmas 1996-1997.
Blowdryer, Jennifer. “Cholo.” In Modern English: A Trendy Slang Dictionary, 56-68. San
Francisco: Last Gasp, 1986.
Bojórquez, Chaz, Gusmano Ceasaretti, Estevan Oriol and Cheech Marin. “Cholo Graffiti.” In
Art in the Streets, ed. Jeffrey, Dietch, Roger Gastman, and Aaron Rose, 144-161. New
York: Skira Rizzoli Publications, Inc., 2011.

!

"%&!

Boyd, Todd. “Can’t Knock the Hustle: Hip Hop and the Cult of Playa Hatin’.” In The New
H.N.I.C.: The Death of Civil Rights and the Reign of Hip Hop. New York: New York
UP, 2003: 61-101.
Brewster, Bill and Frank Broughton. Last Night a DJ Saved My Life: The History of the Disc
Jockey. New York: Grove Press, 2000.
Brown, Darren Lee. “The Heathen Chinee:” Stereotypes of Chinese in Popular Music. San
Francisco: Chinese Historical Society of America and Asian American Studies
Department San Francisco State University, 2003: 7-15.
Campos, Samantha. “King of Scratch: Turntable Master Innovator, DJ Qbert.” Maui Time
Weekly, June 23, 2004.
Castleman, Craig. “The Politics of Graffiti.” In That’s the Joint!: The Hip-Hop Studies Reader,
edited by Murray Forman and Mark Anthony Neal, 21-29. New York: Routledge, 2004.
Chae, Youngsuk. “Cultural Economies of Model Minority Creation.” In Politicizing Asian
American Literature: Towards a Critical Multiculturalism. New York: Routledge, 2008:
19-30.
Chalfrant, Henry and James Piggot. Spraycan Art. New York: Thames and Hudson, 1987.
Chan, Sucheng. Asian Americans: An Interpretive History. Boston: G.K. Hall and Co., 1991.
Chang, Edward T. “America’s First Multiethnic Riots.” In The State of Asian America:
Activism and Resistance in the 1990s, edited by Karin Aguilar-San Juan, 101-117.
Cambridge, MA: South End Press, 1999.
Chang, Jeff. “The Culture Assassins: Geography, Generation and Gangsta Rap.” In Can’t Stop
Won’t Stop: The History of the Hip-Hop Generation. New York: Picador, 2005: 299329.
---. “The Real Enemy: The Cultural Riot of Ice Cube’s Death Certificate.” In Can’t Stop Won’t
Stop: The History of the Hip-Hop Generation. New York: Picador, 2005: 331-353.
---. “New World Order: Globalization, Containment and Counter Culture at the End of the
Century.” In Can’t Stop Won’t Stop: The History of the Hip-Hop Generation. New
York: Picador, 2005: 440-443.
---. “Race, Class, Conflict and Empowerment: On Ice Cube’s ‘Black Korea.’” In Los Angeles:
Struggles Toward Multiethnic Community: Asian American, African American, and
Latino Perspectives, edited by Edward T. Chang and Russell C. Leong, 87-107. Seattle:
University of Washington Press, 1994.

!

"%'!

Chang, Thelma. “I Can Never Forget:” Men of the 100th/442nd. Honolulu, HI: Sigi Productions,
Inc., 1991.
Chennault, Sam. “Revolutions.” Sfweekly.com, January 26, 2005.
http://www.sfweekly.com/2005-01-26/music/revolutions/
Chun, Ki-Taek. “The Myth of Asian American Success and Its Educational Ramifications.” In
The Asian American Educational Experience, edited by Don T. Nakashima and Tina
Yamano Nishida, 95-112. New York: Routledge UP, 1995.
Chung, Tom L. “Asian Americans in Enclaves-They Are Not One Community: New Modes of
Asian American Settlement.” In Asian Americans: Experiences and Perspectives, edited
by Timothy P. Fong and Larry H. Shinagawa, 99-109. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice
Hall, 2000.
Collinson, Ian. “Dis is England’s New Voice: Anger, Activism and the Asian Dub Foundation.”
In Sonic Synergies: Music, Technology, Community, Identity, edited by Gerry Bloustien,
Margaret Peters and Susan Luckman, 105-113. Aldershot, England: Ashgate, 2008.
Condry, Ian. Hip-Hop Japan: Rap and the Paths of Cultural Globalization. Durham: Duke UP,
2006.
---. “B-Boys and B-Girls Fandom and Consumer Culture in Japan.” In Fanning the Flames:
Fans and Consumer Culture in Contemporary Japan, edited by William W. Kelly, 17-39.
Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004.
Conway, Mike. “Fighting Without Martyrs.” Shout 5 (2006): 19.
Cooper, Martha. Subway Art. New York: Holt Paperbacks, 1988.
Cooper, Martha and Joseph Sciorra. R.I.P.: Memorial Wall Art. New York: Henry Holt and Co.,
Inc., 1994.
Daniels, Roger. Concentration Camps USA: Japanese Americans and WWII. New York: Holt,
Reinhart and Winston, 1972.
De Leon, Lakandiwa L. “Filipinotown and the DJ Scene: Expression and Identity Affirmation of
Filipino American Youth in Los Angeles.” In Asian American Youth: Culture, Identity,
and Ethnicity, edited by Jennifer Lee and Min Zhou, 191-206. New York: Routledge,
2004.
Dill, Bonnie Thorton. “Fictive Kin, Paper Sons, and Compadrazgo: Women of Color and the
Struggle for Family Survival.” In American Families: A Multicultural Reader, ed.
Stephanie Coontz, Maya Parson and Gabrielle Raley, 25-38. New York: Routledge,
2008.

!

"&(!

Dimitriadis, Greg. “Popular Culture, Constructions of Place, and the Lives of Urban Youth.” In
Performing Identity/Performing Culture: Hip Hop as Text, Pedagogy, and Lived
Practice. New York: Peter Lang Publishing, Inc., 2001: 35-65.
Egelko, Bob. “Police Get an Earful in Bayview.” Sfgate.com, May 12, 2010.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/05/12/BAM31DD861.DTL
Fernando, Jr., S.H. The New Beats: Exploring the Music, Culture, and Attitudes of Hip-Hop.
New York: Anchor Books, 1994.
Finding History Revealing Echoes. Davis, California: 2005.
Forman, Murray. The ‘Hood Comes First: Race, Space, and Place in Rap and Hip-Hop.
Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 2002.
Fung, Richard. “Looking for My Penis: The Eroticized Asian in Gay Video Porn.” In Asian
American Sexualities: Dimensions of the Gay & Lesbian Experience, edited by Russell
Leong, 181-198. New York: Routledge, 1996.
Gaddis, Anicee and Cladue Grunitzky. “Space Invaders.” In Transculturalism: How the World
is Coming Together, edited by Claude Grunitzky, 171-177. New York: Powerhouse
Books, 2004.
Garfalo, Reebee, ed. Rockin’ the Boat: Mass Music and Mass Movements. New York: South
End Press, 1992.
George, Nelson. Hip Hop America. New York: Penguin Books, 1998.
Gerstel, Naomi and Natalia Sarkisian. “The Color of Family Ties: Race, Class, Gender, and
Extended Family Involvement,” American Families: A Multicultural Reader, ed.
Stephanie Coontz, Maya Parson and Gabrielle Raley, 447-453. New York: Routledge,
2008.
Glenn, Evelyn Nakano. “Split Household, Small Producer and Dual Wage Earner: An Analsyis
of Chinese-American Family Strategies.” In American Families: A Multicultural Reader,
ed. Stephanie Coontz, Maya Parson and Gabrielle Raley, 81-95. New York: Routledge,
2008.
Gonzalves, Theodore S. “The Day the Dancers Stayed: On Pilipino Cultural Nights.” In
Filipino Americans: Transformation and Identity, edited by Maria P. P. Root, 163-182.
London: Sage Publications, 1997.
Graphotism International 8. London: Visual Grafix Video, 1996.
Guthrie, Patricia and Janis Hutchinson. “The Impact of Perceptions on Interpersonal Interactions
in an African America/Asian American Housing Project.” In Blacks and Asians:

!

"&"!

Crossings, Conflict and Commonality, edited by Hazel M. McFerson, 303-317. Durham,
NC: Carolina Academic Press, 2006.
Harrison, Anthony Kwame. Hip Hop Underground: The Integrity and Ethics of Racial
Identification. Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2009.
Hartlaub, Peter. “Turntable Star Qbert Talks About DJ Hero 2.” Sfgate.com, October 6, 2010.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/10/06/DD2I1FKCQ2.DTL
Haskins, James. Black Dance in America: A History Through Its People. New York: Harper
Collins, 1990.
Henderson, April K. “Dancing Between Islands: Hip Hop and the Samoan Diaspora.” In The
Vinyl Ain’t Final: Hip-hop and the Globalisation of Black Popular Culture, edited by
Dipannita Basu and Sidney J. Lemelle, 180-199. London: Pluto Press, 2006.
Hess, Mikey. Is Hip Hop Dead?: The Past, Present, and Future of America’s Most Wanted
Music. Westport, CT: Praeger, 2007.
Higgins, Dalton. Hip Hop World. Berkeley: Groundwood Books, 2009.
Hill, Marc Lamont. Beats, Rhymes, and Classroom Life: Hip-Hop Pedagogy and the Politics of
Identity. New York: Teachers College Press, 2009.
Ho, Fred. Wicked Theory Naked Practice: A Fred Ho Reader, edited by Diane C. Fujino.
Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2009.
Hoch, Danny. “Toward a Hip-Hop Aesthetic: A Manifesto for the Hip-Hop Arts Movement.” In
Total Chaos: The Art and Aesthetics of Hip-Hop, edited by Jeff Chang, 349-363. New
York: Basic Civitas Books, 2006.
Holman, Michael. “Breaking: The History.” In That’s the Joint!: The Hip-Hop Studies Reader,
edited by Murray Forman and Mark Anthony Neal, 31-39. New York: Routledge, 2004.
Hosokawa, Shuhei and Hideaki Matsuoka. “Vinyl Record Collecting as Material Practice: The
Japanese Case.” In Fanning the flames: Fans and Consumer Culture in Contemporary
Japan, edited by William W. Kelly, 151-167. Albany: State University of New York
Press, 2004.
Huq, Rupa. Beyond Subculture: Pop, Youth, and Identity in a Postcolonial World. New York:
Routledge, 2006.
Hyder, Rehan. Brimful of Asia: Negotiating Ethnicity on the UK Scene. Aldershot, England:
Ashgate, 2004.

!

"&)!

Imada, Adria L. “Head Rush: Hip Hop and a Hawaiian Nation ‘On the Rise.’” In The Vinyl
Ain’t Final: Hip-hop and the Globalisation of Black Popular Culture, edited by
Dippinnita Basu and Sidney J. Lemelle, 85-99. London: Pluto Press, 2006.
Jeung, Russell. “Southeast Asians in the House: Multiple Layers of Identity.” In Contemporary
Asian American Communities: Intersections and Divergences, edited by Linda Trinh Võ
and Rick Bonus, 60-74. Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2002.
Joo, Eungie. Barry McGee Regards. Minneapolis: Walker Art Center, 1998.
Joo, Eungie and Joseph Keehn II, eds. Rethinking Contemporary Art and Multicultural
Education. New York: Routledge, 2011.
Kahn, Janine. “Friday Night: DJ Q-Bert at the Independent.” Blogs.sfweekly.com, December
27, 2008. http://blogs.sfweekly.com/shookdown/2008/12/friday_night_dj_qbert_at_the.php.
Kelly, William W. “Glossary of Japanese Terms.” In Fanning the Flames: Fans and Consumer
Culture in Contemporary Japan, edited by William W. Kelly, 189-198. Albany: State
University of New York Press, 2004.
Keyes, Charles. Rap Music and Street Consciousness. Urbana: University of Illinois Press,
2002.
Kim, Elaine H. “At Least You’re Not Black: Asian Americans in U.S. Race Relations.” In
Blacks and Asians: Crossings, Conflict and Commonality, edited by Hazel M. McFerson,
203-213. Durham, NC: Carolina Academic Press, 2006.
Kitano, Harry H.L. Asian Americans: Emerging Minorities. Upper Sale River, NJ: Prentice
Hall, 2001.
Kitwana, Bakari. Why White Kids Love Hip Hop: Wankstas, Wiggers, Wannabes, and the New
Reality of Race in America. New York: Basic Civitas Books, 2005.
Lee, Rachel C. and Sau-ling Cynthia Wong. “Introduction.” In Asian America.Net: Ethnicity,
Nationalism, and Cyberspace, edited by Rachel C. Lee and Sau-ling Cynthia Wong, xiiixxxv. New York: Routledge, 2003.
Lee, Robert G. Orientals: Asian Americans and Popular Culture. Philadelphia: Temple UP,
1999.
Lee, Stacey J. Unraveling the ‘Model Minority’ Stereotype: Listening to Asian American Youth. New
York: Teachers College Press, 1996.

!

"&*!

---. “Forward.” In Model Minority Myth Revisited: An Interdisciplinary Approach to
Demystifying Asian American Educational Experiences, edited by Guofang Li and
Lihshing Wang, ix-xi. Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing Inc., 2008.
Lewisohn, Cedar. Street Art: The Graffiti Revolution. New York: Abrams, 2008.
Lipsitz, George. Footsteps in the Dark: the Hidden Histories of Popular Music. Minneapolis:
Minnesota UP, 2007.
---. “We Know What Time It Is: Race, Class and Youth Culture in the Nineties.” In
Microphone Fiends: Youth Music and Youth Culture, edited by Tricia Rose and Andrew
Ross, 17-28. New York: Routledge, 1994.
Louie, Andrea. Chineseness Across Borders: Renegotiating Chinese Identity in China and the
United States. Durham: Duke UP, 2004.
Machida, Margo. Unsettled Visions: Contemporary Asian American Artists and the Social
Imaginary. Durham: Duke UP, 2009.
Maeda, Daryl. “Black Panthers, Red Guards, and Chinamen: Constructing Asian American Identity
through Performing Blackness, 1969-1972.” American Quarterly 54 no. 4 (2005): 1079-1103.
Maira, Sunaina. “Indo-Chic: Late Capitalist Orientalism and Imperial Culture.” In Alien
Encounters: Popular Culture in Asian America, edited by Mimi Thi Nguyen, 221-243.
Durham: Duke UP, 2007.
---. “Desis in the Hood: Indian American Youth Culture in New York.” In Blacks and Asians:
Crossings, Conflict and Commonality, edited by Hazel M. McFerson, 235-264. Durham,
NC: Carolina Academic Press, 2006.
---. Desis in the House: Indian American Youth Culture in New York City. Philadelphia: Temple
UP, 2002.
Mallare, Marie-Lorraine. “Behind the Mask: The Jabbawockeez, America’s Best Dance Crew.”
Asian Week, July 9, 2008. http://www.asianweek.com/2008/07/09/behind-the-mask-thejabbawockeez-americas-best-dance-crew/.
Mani, Bakirathi. “Undressing the Diaspora.” In South Asian Women in the Diaspora, edited by
Nirmal Puwar and Parvati Raghuram, 117-135. London: Berg, 2003.
Mazumdar, Sucheta. “Asian American Studies and Asian Studies: Rethinking Roots.” In Asian
Americans: Comparative and Global Perspectives, edited by Shirley Hune, Amy Ling,
Stephen S. Fugita, and Hyung-chan Kim, 29-44. Pullman: Washington State UP, 1990.

!

"&+!

Metzger, Sean and Gina Masequesmay. “Introduction: Embodying Asian/American
Sexualities.” Embodying Asian/American Sexualities, edited by Sean Metzger and Gina
Masequesmay, 1-21. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2009.
McDonald, Nancy. “The Graffiti Subculture: Making a World of Difference.” In The
Subcultures Reader, edited by Ken Gelder, 312-325. New York: Routledge, 2005.
McGee, Barry. T.H.R. New York: Distributed Art Publishers, Inc., 2010.
---. “Preface.” In Dumbo: Acts of Vandalism and Stories of Love. Bologna, Italy: Damiani,
2007.
Mike Dream. “Writing is My Life.” Excoboard.com/lightsleepers. February 17, 2007.
http://excoboard.com/exco/archive.php?ac=t&forumid=108836&date=05-162007&t=1300021-1.
Milano, Brett. Vinyl Junkies: Adventures in Record Collecting. New York: St. Martin’s Griffin,
2003.
Minister of Information JR. “Fresher than Ever: An Interview wit DJ Fresh of the Whole
Shabang.” Sfbayview.com, July 9, 2009. http://sfbayview.com/2009/fresher-than-everan-interview-wit-dj-fresh-of-the-whole-shabang/.
Miser, Pete. “VIVA! La Nerd Hip Hop Revolution!” Theme No.1 (Spring 2005): 60-61.
Moon, Krystyn R. Yellowface: Creating the Chinese in American Popular Music and
Performance, 1850s-1920s. New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 2004.
Moore, Thurston, ed. Mix Tape: The Art of Cassette Culture. New York: Universe, 2005.
Moy, James S. Marginal Sights: Staging the Chinese in America. Iowa City: University of Iowa
Press, 1994.
Mullen, Bill V. Afro-Orientalism. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2004.
Mullen, Bill V. and Fred Ho, eds. Afro Asia: Revolutionary Political Practices Between African
Americans and Asian Americans. Durham: Duke UP, 2008.
Nakamura, Lisa. “Where Do You Want to Go Today?: Cybernetic Tourism, the Internet and
Transnationality.” In Race in Cyberspace, edited by Beth Kolko, Lisa Nakamura, and
Gilbert B. Rodman, 87-97. New York: Routledge, 2000.
Nevius, C.W. “Dirty Secret of Black-on-Asian Crime is Out.” Sfgate.com, May 2, 2010.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/05/02/BAT01D7H71.DTL.

!

"&$!

Ngô, Fiona I.B. “The Anxiety Over Borders.” In Embodying Asian/American Sexualities, edited
by Sean Metzger and Gina Masequesmay, 89-104. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books,
2009.
Nishime, Leilani. “’I’m Blackanese:’ Buddy-Cop Films, Rush Hour, and Asian American and
African American Cross-racial Identification.” In Asian North American Identities:
Beyond the Hyphen, edited by Eleanor Ty and Donald C. Goellnicht, 43-60.
Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana UP, 2004.
Ogbar, Jeffrey O.G. Hip-Hop Revolution: The Culture and Politics of Rap. Lawrence, Kansas:
University of Kansas Press, 2007.
Okihiro, Gary. Margins and Mainstreams: Asians in American History and Culture. Seattle:
University of Washington Press, 1994.
Omatsu, Glenn. “The ‘Four Prisons’ and the Movements of Liberation: Asian American
Activism from the 1960s to the 1990s.” In Contemporary Asian America: A
Multidisciplinary Reader. 2nd ed., edited by Min Zhou and J.V. Gatewood, 56-88. New
York: New York UP, 2007.
Ongiri, Amy Obugo. “‘He Wanted to be just like Bruce Lee:’ African Americans, Kung Fu
Theater and Cultural Exchange at the Margins.” Journal of Asian American Studies 5,
no. 1 (2002): 31-40.
---. “Bruce Lee in the Ghetto Connection: Kung Fu Theater and African Americans Reinventing Culture
at the Margins.” In East Main Street: Asian American Popular Culture, edited by Dave Shilpa,
Leilani Nishime, and Tasha G. Oren, 249-261. New York: New York UP, 2005.
Osajima, Keith. “Asian Americans as the Model Minority: An Analysis of the Popular Press
Image in the 1960s and 1980s.” In Contemporary Asian America: A Multidisciplinary
Reader, edited by Min Zhou and James V. Gatewood, 449-458. New York: New York
UP, 2000.
Ong, Aihwa. Flexible Citizenship: The Cultural Logics of Transnationality. Durham: Duke UP,
1999.
Pabon, Jorge. “Physical Graffiti: The History of Hip-Hop Dance.” In Total Chaos: The Art and
Aesthetics of Hip-Hop, edited by Jeff Chang, 18-26. New York: Basic Civitas Books,
2006.
Park, Jane C.H. “Cibo Matto’s Stereotype A: Articulating Asian American Hip Pop.” In East
Main Street: Asian American Popular Culture, edited by Dave Shilpa, Leilani Nishime
and Tasha G. Oren, 292-312. New York: New York UP, 2005.
Parreñas, Rachel Salazar. “‘White Trash’” Meets the ‘Little Brown Monkeys:’ The Taxi Dance
Hall as a Site of Interracial and Gender Alliances between White Working Class Women

!

"&#!

and Filipino Immigrant Men in the 1920s and 30s.” Amerasia Journal 24 no. 2 (1998):
115-134.
Peña-Tajima, Rene. “Yellow Peril Smackdown: A Night at the Chinese American Museum.”
Hollywood Chinese: The Author Dong Collection. Los Angeles: Chinese American
Museum, 2009: 6-31.
Pendleton, David A. “Reparations for Veterans.” In The Filipinos, edited by Michelle E. Houle,
89-93. New York: Greenhaven Press, 2007.
Phi, Thien-bao Thuc. “Yellow Lines: Asian Americans and Hip Hop.” In Afro Asia: Revolutionary
Political Practices Between African Americans and Asian Americans, edited by Bill V. Mullen
and Fred Ho, 295-317. Durham: Duke UP, 2008.
Pisares, Elizabeth H. “Did You Mis(categorize) Me: Filipina Americans in Popular Music and
the Problem of Invisibility.” In Positively No Filipinos Allowed: Building Communities
and Discourse, edited by Antonio T. Tiongson, Jr., Edgardo V. Gutierrez, and Richardo
V. Gutierrez, 172-198. Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2006.
Pitmentel, Benjamin. “Apl.ed.ap: Hip-Hop Musician.” In The Filipinos, edited by Michelle E.
Houle, 152-158. New York: Greenhaven Press, 2007.
Powers, Stephen J. The Art of Getting Over: Graffiti at the Millennium. New York: St. Martin’s
Press, 1999.
Prashad, Vijay. Everybody was Kung Fu fighting: Afro-Asian Connections and the Myth of Cultural
Purity. Boston: Beacon Press, 2001.
Price, Emmett George. Hip Hop Culture. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, 2006.
Raphael-Hernandez, Heike and Shannon Steen, eds. AfroAsian Encounters: Culture, History,
Politics. New York: New York UP, 2006.
Rañoa-Bismark, Mariol. “DJ Qbert is in the House.” Philstar.com, January 28 2010.
http://www.philstar.com/Article.aspx?articleId=544462&publicationSubCategoryId=70
Reeves, Marcus. Somebody Scream!: Rap Music’s Rise to Prominence in the Aftershock of
Black Power. New York: Faber and Faber, Inc., 2008.
Rose, Aaron. “Barry McGee Talks with Aaron Rose.” Art in the Streets, edited by Dietch,
Jeffrey, Roger Gastman, and Aaron Rose, 213-215. New York: Skira Rizzoli
Publications, Inc., 2011.
Rubin, Rachel and Jeffrey Melnick. “Monterey 1967: The Hippies Meet Ravi Shankar.” In
Immigration and American Popular Culture: an Introduction. New York: New York UP,
2007: 129-175.

!

"&%!

Sandhu, Sabeen. “Instant Karma: The Commercialization of Indian Culture.” In Asian
American Youth: Culture, Identity, and Ethnicity, ed. Min Zhou and Jennifer Lee, 132141. New York: Routledge, 2004.
Said, Edward W. Orientalism. New York: Vintage, 1979.
Serra, J. Tony. “Graffiti and U.S. Law.” In Trespass: A History of Uncommissioned Urban Art.
edited by Ethel Seno, 310-313. Los Angeles: Taschen, 2010.
Shankar, Shalini. “Remodeling the Model Minority Stereotype.” In Desi Land: Teen Culture,
Class, and Success in Silicon Valley, edited by Shalini Shankar, 142-166. Durham, CT:
Duke UP, 2008.
Sharma, Nitasha Tamar. Hip Hop Desis: South Asian Americans, Blackness, and a Global Race
Consciousness. Durham: Duke UP, 2010.
---. “Polyvalent Voices: Ethnic and Racialized Desi Hip-Hop.” In Desi Rap: Hip-Hop and
South Asian America, edited by Ajay Nait and Murali Balaji, 17-31. New York:
Lexington Books, 2008.
Sharma, Sanjay, John Hutnyk, and Ashwani Sharma, eds. Dis-Orienting Rhythms: the Politics of
the New Asian Dance Music. London: Zed Books, 1996.
Sinn, Tara. Lycheenaut: Glamour Aliens Pop. San Francisco: Self-published, 1998.
Straw, Will. “Sizing Up Record Collections: Gender and Connoisseurship in Rock Music
Culture.” In Sexing the Groove: Popular Music and Gender, edited by Sheila Whiteley,
3-16. New York: Routledge, 1997.
Suzuki, Bob H. “Revisiting the Model Minority Stereotype: Implications for Student Affairs
Practice and Higher Education.” In Working with Asian American College Students,
edited by Marylu K. McEwen, Corinne Maekawa Kodama, Alvin N. Alvarez, Sunny Lee,
and Christopher T.H. Liang, 21-32. San Francisco: Wiley Periodicals, Inc., 2002.
Takagi, Dana. The Retreat from Race: Asian-American Admissions and Racial Politics. New
York: Routledge UP, 1993.
Takaki, Ronald. Strangers from a Different Shore: A History of Asian Americans. New York:
Penguin, 1989.
Tanz, Jason. “Spin Control: A History of Breakdancing in the Suburbs.” In Other People’s
Property: A Shadow of Hip-Hop in White America, edited by Jason Tanz, 46-72. New
York: Bloomsbury, 2007.

!

"&&!

Tate, Greg, ed. Everything but the Burden: What White People are Taking From Black Culture.
New York: Broadway, 2003.
Taylor, Diana. The Archive and the Repertoire: Performing Cultural Memory in the Americas.
Durham: Duke UP, 2003.
Tchen, John Kuo Wei. New York before Chinatown: Orientalism and the Shaping of American
Culture, 1776-1882. Baltimore: John Hopkins UP, 2001.
Tong, Benjamin R. “Asian American Psychology: a Critical Introduction.” In Ethnicity and
Psychology: African-, Asian-, Latino- and Native-American Psychologies, edited by
Kenneth P. Montero, 117-126. Dubuque, Iowa: Kendall/Hunt Publishing, 1996.
Toop, David. Rap Attack 2: African Rap to Global Hip Hop. London: Serpent’s Tail, 1991.
Tsai, Tina. “JabbaWockeez, Unmasked.” Asian Week, March 13, 2008.
http://www.asianweek.com/2008/03/13/jabbawockeez-unmasked/.
Tuan, Mia. Forever Foreigners or Honorary Whites?: The Asian Ethnic Experience Today.
New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 1999.
Ty, Eleanor and Donald C. Goellnicht. “Introduction: Beyond Hyphenated Identities.” Asian
North American Identities: Beyond the Hyphen, edited by Eleanor Ty and Donald C.
Goellnicht, 1-14. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana UP, 2004.
Vergara, Benito M. Pinoy Capital: The Filipino Nation in Daly City. Philadelphia: Temple UP,
2002.
Vertovec, Steven. The Hindu Diaspora: Comparative Patterns. New York: Routledge, 2000.
V!, Linda Trinh. “Transforming an Ethnic Community: Little Saigon, Orange County.” In
Asian America: Forming New Communities, Expanding Boundaries, edited by Huping
Ling, 87-103. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 2009.
Walsh, Michael. Graffito. Berkeley: North Atlantic Books, 1996.
Wang, Grace. “Interlopers in the Realm of High Culture: ‘Music Moms’ and the Performance of
Asian and Asian American Identities.” American Quarterly 61 no. 4 (2009): 881-903.
Wang, Oliver. “Rapping and Repping Asian: Race Authenticity, and the Asian American MC.” In Alien
Encounters: Popular Culture in Asian America, edited by Mimi Thi Nguyen, 35-68. Durham:
Duke UP, 2007.
---. “These are the Breaks: Hip-Hop and AfroAsian Cultural (Dis)Connections.” In Afroasian
Encounters: Culture, History, Politics, edited by Heike Raphael-Hernandez and Shannon
Steen, 146-163. New York: New York UP, 2006.

!

"&'!

Wei, William. The Asian American Movement. Philadelphia: Temple UP, 1993.
Weinberg, Meyer. Asian-American Education: Historical Background and Current Realities.
Mahwah, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers, 1997.
Whaley, Deborah Elizabeth. “Black Bodies/Yellow Masks: The Orientalist Aesthetic in HipHop and Black Visual Culture.” In Afroasian Encounters: Culture, History, Politics,
edited by Heike Raphael-Hernandez and Shannon Steen, 188-203. New York: New York
UP, 2006.
Whelan, Andrew. “Do U Produce?: Subcultural Capital and Amateur Musicianship in Peer-toPeer Networks.” In Cybersounds: Essays on Virtual Music Culture, edited by Michael D.
Ayers, 57-81. New York: Peter Lang, 2006.
Wong, Deborah Anne. Speak It Louder!: Asian Americans Making Music. New York:
Routledge, 2004.
Wong, William. “Oakland Street Killing: Anger.” Sfgate.com, April 29, 2010.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/wwong/detail?entry_id=62493.
Wong, Yutian. Choreographing Asian America. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 2010.
Wu, Frank. “Forward.” In Blacks and Asians: Crossings, Conflict and Commonality, edited by
Hazel M. McFerson, xi-xvii. Durham, NC: Carolina Academic Press, 2006.
Yoshihara, Mari. Embracing the East: White Women and American Orientalism. Oxford:
Oxford UP, 2003.
Yugel, Losorata. “Balikbayan DJ Qbert ‘Scratches’ at Hip Club.” Mb.com.ph, January 16,
2010. http://www.mb.com.ph/node/238835/balikbayan-dj-qbertZhou, Min. “Intragroup Diversity: Asian American Population Dynamics and Challenges of the
Twenty-first Century.” In Asian America: Forming New Communities, Expanding
Boundaries, edited by Huping Ling, 25-44. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 2009.
Zhou, Min and Jennifer Lee. “Introduction: The Making of Culture, Identity, and Ethnicity
Among Asian American Youth.” In Asian American Youth: Culture, Identity, and
Ethnicity, edited by Min Zhou and Jennifer Lee, 1-30. New York: Routledge, 2004.
DISCOGRAPHY
2Pac. “Life Goes On.” All Eyez On Me. Death Row Records, 1996, CD.

!

"'(!

Andre Nickatina. “Blind Genius.” Khan! The ME Generation. I-Khan Distribution, 2010, CD.
---. “Sun Duck Kim.” Tears Of A Clown. Fillmore Coleman Records, 1999, CD.
Andre Nickatina and Equipto. Bullet Symphony: Horns and Halos 3. Million Dollar Dream
Records, 2006, CD.
---. Horns and Halos. Million Dollar Dream Records, 2005, CD.
---. Gun-Mouth 4 Hire: Horns and Halos 2. Million Dollar Dream Records, 2005, CD.
---. Midnight Machine Gun Rhymes and Alibis. Million Dollar Dream Records, 2002, CD.
Andrea True Connection. “More, More, More.” Buddah Records, 1975, LP.
Arata. The Way I Live. Legendary Music, 2005, CD.
The Asiatic Knight Stalker. Love’s Criminal. Not On Label, 2006, CD.
Bailey. “U-C-IT.” Champ Bailey. 101 Distribution, 2006, CD.
Bartz, Gary. “Music Is My Sanctuary.” Music Is My Sanctuary. Capitol Records, 1977, LP.
Bland, Bobby. “Ain’t No Love In The Heart Of The City.” ABC Records, 1974, LP.
Blue Scholars. Bayani. Rawkus, 2007, CD.
Bored Stiff. “Sucka Free Spirit.” Now More Than Ever. Bored Stiff Entertainment, 2009, CD.
---. The Sad Truth. Bored Stiff Entertainment, 2008, CD.
---. Timeless. Hella Records, 1995, CD.
Capital Tax. “I Can’t Believe It.” MCA Records, 1993, LP.
Chan. “Politickin' W/ Chan.” Detonator Records, 2001, LP.
The Coup. “Dig It.” Kill My Landlord. Wild Pitch Records, 1993, CD.
Csteroc. Gamblin’ & Grindin’. Heaven Sent Records, 2005, CD.
Curt Sak. Go 4 Broke. The City Records, 2003, CD.
Darth Fader and Scarecrow Willy. Toasted Marshmellow Feet Braxe. Dirt Style Records, 1995,
LP.

!

"'"!

Dead Prez Presents M-1. “5 Elementz.” Confidential. Koch Records, 2006, CD.
Digital Underground. “Doowutchyalike.” Sex Packets. Tommy Boy, 1990, CD.
DJ Flare. Dirtstyle Deluxe Shampoo Edition. Dirt Style Records, 1997, LP.
DJ Qbert. Wave Twisters. Galactic Butt Hair Records, 1998, CD.
---. Demolition Pumpkin Squeeze Musik. Not On Label, 1994, CD.
DJ Qbert vs. A-Trak. Buck Tooth Wizardz. Mom ‘n’ Dad Productions, 1997, CD.
Dre Dog. I Hate You With A Passion. In-A-Minute Records, 1995, CD.
---. The New Jim Jones. In-A-Minute Records, 1993, CD.
E-40. “Tell Me When To Go.” My Ghetto Report Card. Jive Records, 1996, CD.
Equipto. “Heart & Soul.” Illyich. Solidarity Records, 2011, CD.
---. “My Dream.” On My Down Time. Hella Records, 2008, CD.
---. “Hip Hop Iz.” Cigarillos. Million Dollar Dream, 2004, CD.
---. “Woman Of My Life.” Vintage Vol. II: Like There Is No Tomorrow. Solidarity Records,
2000, CD.
Eric B and Rakim. “I Ain’t No Joke.” Island Records, 1987, CD.
Estairy. Hybrid. The City Records, 2003, CD.
Estairy and Skitz. The Premiere. Shima Sounds, 2009, CD.
EyeASage. “Heart of the City.” Married to the Hustle. Not On Label, 2008, CD.
Haji Springer. Hurry Up & Buy! SMC Recordings, 2009, CD.
Hung, William. Inspiration. Koch Records, 2004, CD.
Ice Cube. “Black Korea.” Death Certificate. Priority Records, 1991, CD.
Invisbl Skratch Piklz. Invisbl Skratch Piklz vs. Da Klams Uv Deth. Dirt Style Records, 1996,
LP.
Jah Screechie. “Walk and Skank (Radikal Roots Re-Edit).” Roots Radics, 2005, LP.

!

"')!

Kiwi. The Summer Exposure Mixtape. Rusty Bolo Music, 2007, CD.
Lachichi. “Desolation Dub.” Angel’s Egg, 2003, LP.
The Last Poets, Common and Dead Prez. Panthers. Counterflow Recordings, 2004, LP.
Living Legends. “Nowyouno.” Beats and Lyrics: Industry Hip Hop Compilation. Industry
Records, 1997, LP.
Lunar Heights. “Da Music.” NatAural High Records, 2005, LP.
Mac Dre. “Feelin’ Myself.” Ronald Dregan: Dreganomics. Thizz Entertainment, 2004, CD.
---. Thizzelle Washington. Thizz Entertainment, 2001, CD.
Master P. MP Da Last Don. No Limit Records, 1998, CD.
Mint Rock. Mint Rock. The City Records, 2005, CD.
Mistah F.A.B. “Super Sic Wid It.” Son of a Pimp. Thizz Entertainment, 2005, CD.
Nanjaman. “Light Foot.” Bakuon Syndicate, 1999, LP.
Native Guns. Barrel Men. Native Guns, 2006, CD.
Nump. The Gorillapino Comp. Sick Wid It Records, 2009, CD.
---. “Legalize My Medicine.” Bay Area Boom Box Vol. 12. Cartier Entertainment, 2009, CD.
---. “I Got Grapes.” The Nump Yard. Sick Wid It Records, 2005, CD.
---. “Be Like Mike Dream.” The Nump Yard. Sick Wid It Records, 2005, CD.
---. The Nump Yard. Sick Wid It Records, 2005, CD.
Paris. Sleeping with the Enemy. Scarface Records, 1992, CD.
Rappin’ 4-Tay. “Playaz Club.” Don’t Fight the Feelin’. Rag Top Records, 1994, CD.
Saafir. Boxcar Sessions. Qwest Records, 1994, CD.
Savage Committee. Hustle4Everything. Clear Label Records, 2009, CD.
ScoJourners. ScoJourners. Shima Sounds, 2011, CD.

!

"'*!

Shing02. For the Tyme Being, West Coast Digital, 2009, CD.
---. Pearl Harbor EP. Mary Joy Recordings, 1999, LP.
---. Laid In Japan. Mary Joy Recordings, 1998, LP.
Shing02, Murs, EL-P and Yeshua Dapoed. “A Day Like Any Other.” Mary Joy Recordings,
1998, LP.
Skitz the Samurida. Control the Mic, Control the Masses. Shima Sounds, 2007, CD.
Sister Nancy. “Bam Bam.” Techniques Records, 1993, LP.
Sister Sledge. “We Are Family.” We Are Family. Cotillion Records, 1979, LP.
The Specials. “Ghost Town (Extended Version).” Two-Tone Records, 1981, LP.
Stephens, Tanya. “It’s A Pity.” VP Records, 2004, LP.
Trahern, Al. “Wing Lee’s Ragtime Clock.” New York: Myll Brothers, 1899, Sheet Music.
Unagi. Beneath The Surface of the SFC. 442 Records, 2006, CD.
Various Artists. Profound. Solidarity Records, 2010, CD.
Various Blends. My Favorite Mistake. Baraka Foundation, 2001, LP.
Yello Mello. Self-published, 1998, Cassette Tape.
You The People: Celebrating with Glides Cecil Williams. Glide Publications, 1971, LP.
FILMOGRAPHY
23109: Exhibition of Speed. Directed by Justin Lomax. Thizz Entertainment, 2004. DVD.
A Clockwork Orange. Directed by Stanley Kubrick. Warner Brothers, 1971. DVD.
America’s Best Dance Crew. Created by Randy Jackson. Warner Horizon Television, 20082011.
Aoki. Directed by Ben Wang and Mike Cheng. TWF Films, 2009. DVD.
Art:21 Space. Director Unknown. Public Broadcasting Service, 2001. Video.pbs.org,
http://video.pbs.org/video/1230660017#, (accessed August 30, 2011). Video.

!

"'+!

Art Talk with Barry McGee. Director Unknown. Vbs.tv, 2008. Vbs.tv,
http://www.vbs.tv/watch/art-talk/barry-mcgee, (accessed September 12, 2011). Video.
Beat Street. Directed by Stan Lathan. MGM, 1984. DVD.
Beautiful Losers. Directed by Aaron Rose and Joshua Leonard. Arthouse Films, 2008. DVD.
Bieber, Justin. Somebody to Love. Directed by Dave Meyers. Island Records, 2010. Music
Video.
The Black Eyed Peas. Bebot. Directed by Patricio Ginelsa. Xylophone Films, 2006. Music
Video.
Bored Stiff. Media. Directed by Tony Rain, $trive Films, 2007. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zzj7YbgKaKc, (accessed August 30, 2011). Music
Video.
Breakin’. Directed by Joel Silberg. Golan-Globus Productions, 1984. DVD.
Chuckie Akenz & V-Unit. Got Beef. Directed by Paul Nguyen, 2006. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKnc3UBev6I, (accessed August 30, 2011). Music
Video.
Chung, Jona. What Makes You Real? Directed by Jona Chung. Cuttynclean Records, 2010.
Youtube.com, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eNhr3EJUfYc, (accessed October 4,
2011). Music Video.
Crooked. Directed by Skiz Fernando. Wordsound, 2002. DVD.
CUBA- Graffiti Artist Evolved. Directed by Gregory Thomas, 2011. Missionlocal.org,
http://missionlocal.org/2011/02/cuba-graffiti-artist-evolved/, (accessed August 30, 2011).
Video.
Digable Planets. Rebirth of the Slick (Cool Like Dat). Director Unknown. Elektra Records,
1992. Music Video.
DJ Q-Bert SPTV. Director Unknown. Vimeo.com, http://vimeo.com/25433706, (accessed
September 13, 2011). Video.
DJ Qbert Full Interview. Director Unknown. Vimeo.com, http://vimeo.com/21672961,
(accessed September 13, 2011). Video.
DJ Rhettmatic on Asian Americans in Hip-Hop. Director Unknown. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0KYBOsOjso4, (accessed December 9, 2010). Video.

!

"'$!

Equipto. Subliminal. Director Unknown. Solidarity Records, 2010. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9nYsf7SpEzk, (accessed October 4, 2011). Music
Video.
EyeASage. MRSHMLO. Directed by Mikhail Shapiro. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XIlp-kX_FU, (accessed September 1, 2011). Music
Video.
Frisco 2 The Ville. Directed by Luke Whitehead. Luke Whitehead Productions, 2008. DVD.
Flashdance. Directed by Adrian Lyne. Paramount Pictures, 1983. DVD.
Forbidden City, U.S.A. Directed by Arthur Dong. DeepFocus Productions, 1989. DVD.
Gookstaz. I Go, You Stop. Director Unknown. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoPUShyz5uw, (accessed June 30, 2011). Music
Video.
---. Lovin Dat Taste. Directed by Impak. Jug-A-Knot Entertainment, 2010. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYb9SvaGNQI, (accessed September 29, 2011).
Music Video.
Kiwi. Imagine. Directed by Jay Jasper Pugao. Locus Arts, 2008. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FjzyYV5s2p0, (accessed October 4, 2011). Music
Video.
Mike ‘Dream’ Francisco Interview 1993. Director Unknown. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zklG2h4B86o, (accessed August 11, 2010). Video.
Mike Dream of TDK Thoughts On Writing. Director Unknown. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwW0Gmi7ihU, (accessed February 12, 2010).
Video.
Mint Rock. Growin’ Up Poor. Directed by Jona Chung. Cuttynclean Records, 2010.
Youtube.com, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c2wX1jC6-0o, (accessed September
29, 2011). Music Video.
Mint Rocky, Priz, Equipto, Don Lain, Agency and P.W. Esquire. Game Go. Directed by Jona
Chung. Solidarity Records, 2011. Youtube.com, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnVsi7AKEA, (accessed September 29, 2011). Music Video.
Mistah FAB: Yellow Tape Caution. Directed by Justin Lomax and James Locke. Thizz
Entertainment, 2007. DVD.

!

"'#!

Mistah Roger. Down For Our City. Directed by Loc V. BNC ENT and Slaughterhouse Films,
2011. Youtube.com, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZJEL62j7iA, (accessed
September 29, 2011). Music Video.
Native Guns. Drowning. Directed by Erica Eng. Erica Eng Productions, 2007. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hDg3He8sQA, (accessed September 29, 2011).
Music Video.
Nump. Jump On Da Scrape. Directed by Ginorocks. Sick Wid It Records, 2008.
Youtube.com, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olZgD3F8WLk, (accessed September
29, 2011). Music Video.
---. Dream. Directed by Genorocks and Dean. 30/30 and Sic Wid It Records, 2007.
Youtube.com, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HDs0cvGS9Fs, (accessed September
29, 2011). Music Video.
Nump Interview. Director Unknown. Sick Mix, 2009. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ve_aE8urAI, (accessed October 3, 2011). Video.
Pinoy Hip-Hop Culture of the SF Bay Area: Nomi. Directed by Angela J. Bass, 2010.
Vimeo.com, http://vimeo.com/115170292010, (accessed October 11, 2011). Video.
Quick and Dirty Vol.03: Qbert. Womptv.com, June 1, 2011,
http://womptv.com/2011/06/01/quick-dirty-vol-03-qbert/, (accessed September 13, 2011).
Video.
Rocky Rivera. Girl Like Me. Directed by Erika Eng. Erika Eng Productions, 2011.
Youtube.com, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBZcFmXNDM8, (accessed October
9, 2011). Music Video.
---. Trick Habit. Directed by Patricio Ginelsa. Xylophone Films, 2010. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ATc2bS9qZ82010, (accessed October 9, 2011).
Music Video.
ScoJourners. Independent Hustle. Directed by Estairy and Skitz. Abo Greenwald Production,
2008. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwP7WOHehRc, (accessed September 29,
2011). Music Video.
ScoJourners EPK. Directed by Keri Wong. C-Dub Productions, 2010. Youtube.com,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j1ANZbc-YoQ, (accessed September 29, 2011).
Video.
Smoke-N-Thizz. Directed by Jacobs Ladder. Thizz Nation, 2006. DVD.
So You Think You Can Dance. Created by Simon Fuller and Nigel Lythgoe. 19 Television,
2005-2011.

!

"'%!

Sounds of a New Hope. Directed by Eric Tandoc, Mass Movement and Sine Patriyotiko, 2009.
DVD.
Style Wars. Directed by Henry Chalfant and Tony Silver. Public Broadcasting Service, 1983.
DVD.
Terminal USA. Directed by Jon Moritsugu. Killing Kulture, 1993. DVD.
The Very First DJ Band: DJ Q-bert, Mix Master Mike, Apollo in 1992. Director Unknown.
Youtube.com. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zfCbxLWZt4, (accessed December 9,
2010). Video.
The Underground: Closer Look Into Bay Area Hip Hop. Directed by Jona Chung. Cuttynclean
Records, 2009. Youtube.com, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmYfNa758gg,
(accessed September 29, 2011). Video.
The Underground Know Your History. Directed by Jona Chung. Cuttynclean Records, 2011.
Youtube.com, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gDbMc9nApDQ, (accessed September
29, 2011). Video.
Treal T.V. Directed by Justin Lomax. Thizz Entertainment, 2003. DVD.
Treal T.V. #2. Directed by Justin Lomax. Thizz Entertainment, 2006. DVD.
Wave Twisters. Directed by Syd Garon and Eric Henry. Thud Rumble, 2001. DVD.
Wild Style. Directed by Charlie Ahearn. 1983. DVD.

!

"'&!