I'm tired of hearing people diss on my smart, strong and sexy Asian American brothers out there. And I there are enough people who complain or write about it. There are not enough, however, who pay homage to these extraordinary men. So here I profess my love to them. No Long Duk Donging or Fu Manchuing allowed here!

It must be hard, my Asian American brother, being told that to be a "real man" you must be big, brawny, and not too booksmart (as streetsmarts are infinitely sexier). Every time you go to the movies or turn on the television, the leading men, the heroes: none of them look like you. And when you do see someone who looks like you, you see Long Duk Dong or Fu Manchu. You cannot speak English, but if you do, your tongue must be a little warped at all times, as you hardly ever speak sans accent, even if you, the actor, have lived in America and spoken English all your life. You are the stingy and racist Korean grocer, the stingy and racist Indian 7-11 owner, the nerdy and sexless egghead, the horny foreign exchange student who wants nothing but White American girl ass, the cold and heartless killer from the Hong Kong Triad, the kickass but goofy (and totally unsexy) cop (who must be teamed with a "real American" because he cannot possibly be American with that accent of his!), the good guy master martial artist (who still never gets to kiss the girl in the end).

You are more than a stereotype! Where are my sexy Asian American ER doctors, my powerful and witty Asian American Practice lawyers, my funny and attractive Asian American Friends? Smart, strong and sexy ones, you must thank your lucky stars for Bruce Lee, who took on Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and fought with fists of fury, but even he could not win the battle against Hollywood. 

So rare is the occasion that I see you, my smart, strong and sexy Asian American man, that sometimes I forget you exist. But you do, you do! I swear, you do! But when I think of the hero, the first image that pops into my head is that of a white man, probably of Eastern European descent, muscles rippling with every step as he strides towards me from the big screen, a little bloody after having killed off a hundred bad guys in order to rescue me. The white, Eastern European guy is interchangeable with a Wesley Snipes or Denzel Washington type, or even Will Smith. You bet your bottoms they get at least a kiss at the end. But when the incredibly sexy and incredibly sweet Jet Li gets Aaliyah to be his Juliet, he can't even get so much as a smooch. What's up with that? 

Fret not, the movies lie! They forget to show images of your honeyed skin, toasted to a deep bronze by the hot sun, droplets of sweat glistening upon your furrowed brow, as you moved from field to field, using sophisticated Japanese irrigation techniques so that your crops and harvest would be lush and bountiful. You worked day and night, night and day, saving up your money to send for your wives and children, but you had to have patience because you were lured here by false promises of freedom, equality, opportunity, and wealth so it took longer than you expected. Still you persevered.  They forget how you toiled in the sweltering heat and the freezing cold, laying down the railroad tracks, always assigned the most dangerous jobs because you were brave, you were strong, and they were scared! Your strong arms, your sturdy backs, you helped to build this country! 

Yellow peril, they called you. They were threatened by your diligence, your intelligence, your strength. It was your body, my smart, strong sexy Asian American man, that raised America from dust and dirt to wealth and riches, and even if this country's history is quick to forget you, you remain emblazoned in the hearts and minds of we who choose to remember, we who dare not forget how our fathers and brothers suffered for this country. We do not forget the purple hearts that hang from the tattered uniform you wore when this country forced you to fight two wars, one in Europe against the Enemy and the other at home to prove your American-ness to a government that hated you. Few can fathom the inner turmoil you faced when America herded you and your family to filthy internment camps so you Japs wouldn't be able to instigate a "5th column" uprising. To prove them wrong, you fought valiantly, but still the bravery of the Japanese American 100th Battalion/ 442nd Regimental Combat Team has received little attention. 

How dare they call you weak? I promise you, you are stronger and sexier than anyone gives you credit for. She (or he, I suppose) is a fool who does not find intelligence sexy. Genius makes my temperature rise, so if you are smart, be proud of it! We won't hold it against you any longer. Nerdy or not, I adore you. 

I don't buy into Philip Rushton's racist bullshit about the inverse relationship between brain power and penis size. How, exactly, did he carry out his oh-so-scientific research? It must be annoying to hear people who don't know you (and have most certainly never looked in your pants, and quite possibly never into the pants of any Asian man) comment on the size of your penis. "I heard Asian men have small dicks." Yeah? Well I've heard that Asian men have big dicks. What's it to you? Anti-miscegenation laws tried to keep Asian dicks from White vaginas. They were so scared of your sexiness that they had to create laws to assuage their own foolish fears. And after it became painfully obvious that these laws were racist, these nasty little rumors began to spread about the kind of package you were packing. (We won't even get into the hypersexualized Black man; that's a story for another day.) All sorts of different men have all sorts of different penis sizes, but some people act as though a man's penis size says something about him. Does it make him any more or less of a man? Please. It's not so much the size of the boat as it is the motion of the ocean, and Asian boats are no different in size than any other boats. There are yachts; there are cruisers; and of course, there are some canoes. Stop being so presumptuous. Rule 1: Don't knock it 'till you rock it. Rule 2: Even after you rock it, do remember that a lady/ gentleman never kisses and tells. Didn't your momma teach you not to believe everything you hear? 

But hear this: I love my smart, strong and sexy Asian American men, and I will continue to pay homage to them, my friends, my forefathers, my brothers, my lovers.

*Disclaimer* If you are offended by my ode, take an Asian American studies class, an anthro class, or a media studies class and arm yourself with some knowledge, and then be prepared to have an intelligent, civil, and thought-provoking conversation. Do have some substance with which to back up any foul language you might toss my way. Thanks in advance. Need help getting started? Read the Asian American History Timeline here and you'll be well on your way; just google your little heart out. Learn about yellowface in American cinema. Familiarize yourself with Hollywood portrayals of Asian and Asian American male sexuality.