Quintos 15

Amanda Quintos

Honors Thesis

Dr. Ralf Remshardt/Kevin Marshall

August 1, 2012

Recurring Thematic and Structural Elements in Filipino American Drama

As a social institution that seeks to combine deeper meanings about the human condition with certain aesthetics, theatre has the power to reveal the issues that preoccupy the consciousness of a particular group of people or culture by pulling focus to their underlying concepts through manipulations of characterization, plot, and theme. Conversely, limited or complete absence of particular modes of thought and representations in theatre can indicate a slew of issues, such as a lack of awareness, denial of the existence of a specific problem, or willful erasure of perspectives from the dominant narrative. Filipino American theatre addresses the concerns of its audience by using a more culturally relevant set of aesthetics for Filipino and Filipino American viewers (Performing 5), articulates troubles and contradictions that mainstream theatre does not seem to grasp, and establishes striking, memorable, and humanized viewpoints in a way that makes them incredibly difficult to ignore or attempt to efface, which, in turn, helps combat the invisibility that seems to consistently threaten the transmission of stories related to the experience of many Asians in America (Barrios-Leblanc xi). Tenement Lover: no palm trees/in new york city by Jessica Hagedorn, Talk-Story by Jeannie Barroga, and Flipzoids by Ralph B. Peña utilize similar structural and thematic elements in order to tell stories that exist simultaneously inside and outside of the dominant historical and theatrical narratives and echo events throughout history while refusing to construct an “illusion of off-stage sociohistorical reality” in essentialist terms (Performing 6).

The historical relationship of Asians and Asian Americans to America in cultural and theatrical contexts is one that is beset by conflation of distinct ethnic groups, denial, ambivalence, insensitivity, and abjection. Karen Shimakawa’s description of abjection defines it as a process through which one tries to “circumscribe and radically differentiate something that, although deemed repulsively other,” is a regular part of a whole system (Shimakawa 2). According to Esther K. Lee, the Asian presence in the Americas preceded the Declaration of Independence. For example, in the 16th century, Filipino sailors arrived on the coast of Louisiana (Lee 7). However, this Asian presence was barely acknowledged in a positive light until it was viewed through a lens of exoticism in a production of Voltaire’s Orphan of China in 1767, which featured Caucasian actors in yellowface makeup and proved to provide a pervasive and persistent first impression for an audience that had never seen actual individuals from China. The images of China, India, and the Middle East as exotic and decadent but ultimately dying regions of the world seduced the American public, and in other venues, racialized groups, including one under the label “Oriental,” became sideshow attractions (Lee 8). By the time a genuine Chinese performance was staged in the States, the lucrative stereotype had taken hold of the public consciousness and persisted throughout the 19th and 20th centuries (Lee 10). During that time period, legislative measures were passed in order to prohibit the continued entry of Asians into the States and to displace the ones who were already in the country supposedly to reduce competition for employment (Performing 2). Congress also passed legislation that denied certain rights to individuals of Chinese, Japanese, Filipino, Korean, South Asian, and Hawaiian descent based on their supposed inability to assimilate and the accompanying “threat posed to ‘real’ American citizens and culture.” (Shimakawa 5) Racial tensions continued to manifest themselves throughout the course of World War II. According to Shimakawa, when the U.S. began to fight Japan in the Philippines, President Roosevelt drafted more than 250,000 Filipinos into the U.S. Army and claimed that they would be granted citizenship and full military benefits. Once the war ended, however, Congress passed the postwar Recision Act and broke its promise (Shimakawa 12). Although certain politicians passed measures to rectify the situation, restrictions related to Social Security benefits, pensions, and disability income still remained (Shimakawa 13). In addition to the problems caused by abjection in the social and political arenas, complications associated with representation were compounded by the reinforcement and perpetuation of a multitude of Asian stereotypes in the entertainment industry, ranging from the irredeemably evil and savage to the irredeemably weak and submissive. According to Esther Lee, one of the most well-documented cases among many of the inappropriate representation of Asians onstage is the casting controversy that surrounded the Broadway production of Miss Saigon, during which the practice of yellowface was still deemed acceptable by the production team and old Asian stereotypes from Puccini’s opera were reset in a modern setting alongside well-developed, purposefully sympathetic American characters (Lee 181).

Karen Shimakawa characterizes this sort of abjection as a measure to reinforce boundaries between the parties in the absolute binary model of “us” and “them,” or inside and outside. It provides the options of assimilation or expulsion; however, the process is inconsistent, and its position of power in a changing world is untenable. She further elaborates on the paradox inherent in abjection by describing the way in which Asian Americans are marked as prime examples of the “correct embodiment” of American ideals and behavior but are still viewed as a deviation from American “normalcy” because of their race (Shimakawa 13). Although Jessica Hagedorn’s Tenement Lover: no palm trees/in new york city, Jeannie Barroga’s Talk-Story, and Ralph B. Peña’s Flipzoids work on a more symbolic level rather than a literal one and have their origins in different life experiences, they relate quite strongly to the previously discussed aspects of Asian American social and theatrical history and address the aforementioned aspects of abjection.

Tenement Lover: no palm trees/in new york city, Talk-Story, and Flipzoids may appear to be unusually structured and disjointed works at first glance, but all of them feature recurring structural and thematic elements that lend them unity in and of themselves and amongst each other. The three plays use a variety of media in order to set the scene and do not rely solely on the spoken word as the primary means of communication. The plays’ structures give the stories a cinematic quality, simultaneously engaging and distancing themselves from the audience. Certain conventional elements of the set or dialogue are ostensibly absent from the plays, and their absence precludes the establishment of a seamless illusion of a single objective reality. There is an unapologetic use of Tagalog terms throughout each work as well as the presence of characters that signify different perspectives on and attempts to thrive in another environment that does not always live up to its image. The plays also display the playwrights’ awareness of the stereotypes of Asians and Asian Americans that persist in common perceptions, the playwrights’ occasional and ambivalent indulgence in the mystique that such misrepresentations provide, and their ultimate rejection of such reductive thinking with regards to culture.

Recurring thematic elements that bind Tenement Lover: no palm trees/in new york city, Talk-Story, and Flipzoids include invisibility, the American Dream, fixation on images, ambivalence, disappointment, culture shock, escape, lack of refuge, performance of subservience, cultural appropriation and transformation into an exotic object for consumption, challenges to the mainstream, superficial sensitivity, romance, violence, storytelling, ritual, and coping mechanisms against bigotry.

Jessica Hagedorn was born in Manila and raised there as well as in San Francisco. She trained at the American Conservatory Theatre and gained a greater sense of clarity about artistic paths she wished to avoid, including writing for mainstream theatre. Her interest in poetry and music and her professional interactions with Ntozake Shange and Thulani Davis influenced her as an artist. Hagedorn claims that she “wanted more muscle” and “less sentimentality” in her work upon moving to New York, where there were fewer Filipinos (Hagedorn 76-77). Hagedorn lists otherness, revolution, terrorism, battles between dominant and “minority” cultures, home, homesickness, contempt for the Marcos regime, connections through multicultural aesthetics (Hagedorn 78), displacement, exile, a sense of “belonging nowhere or anywhere,” a search for shelter, and a negotiation of identity as prevailing themes in Tenement Lover: no palm trees/in new york city (Hagedorn 79).

Tenement Lover: no palm trees/in new york city consists of a series of monologues, letters, and songs. The play opens with red-tinted projected slides of the Philippine landscape. A narrator discusses the meaning behind the term anting-anting, which is a talisman, then implies that it is incredibly difficult to acquire one. The images and the explanation of the term familiarize the “foreign” and humanize the “savage.” A character referred to as the Beachcomber creates an onstage beach by scattering stones (Hagedorn 81), which is consistent with Barrios-Leblanc’s assessment that characters allow the audience “to understand how Filipinos construct the United States in the homeland and in turn, how the homeland is constructed from the site of migration.” (Barrios-Leblanc 419) The Beachcomber also plays the role of the Chauffeur, who works for a dismissive blonde woman referred to as the Sunbather/Tourist. She literally divides the playing area into the real Philippines and her own exotic, casually cultural paradise. Once the Sunbather settles, the Narrator introduces Antonio Gargazulio-Duarte, or Bongbong. Bongbong, who is “slowly going mad” according to the Narrator, has left the Philippines to seek out a country without contradiction (Hagedorn 82). Bongbong expresses a feeling of ambiguity of identity and fantasizes about being a movie star or a concrete and visible entity in a letter to his friend (Hagedorn 83).

The Narrator, Ludivinda, discusses upward mobility in relative terms, compares her living situations in New York and the Philippines, and seems to deride her former residence in the Philippines; however, she repeats the question, “Am I in America?” throughout her monologue and refers to the Philippines as home the second time she mentions it in conversation. In addition, she expresses apathy toward her lack of money and social life (Hagedorn 83). Her main source of joy seems to be the color TV that she watches at all hours of the day until a black line begins to intrude on the screen, marring the image. Her controlling husband, formerly a Marine stationed in the Philippines, states, “Black-and-white’s more realistic, you’ll get used to it.” Such a line reveals Ludivinda’s awkward position in the well-established black and white racial dichotomy of the United States and suggests that she truly does not belong there (Hagedorn 84).

The Beachcomber/Chauffeur returns dressed as the Waiter shortly after Bongbong considers seeking employment as a busboy. The Waiter wears the mask of a smiling man and serves a drink in a coconut shell to the Sunbather, indicating a measured performance rather than an intrinsic sense of subservience and the way that performance reduces elements of culture to exotic commodities to be consumed by members of another culture (Hagedorn 85). In Bongbong’s next letter to his friend in the Philippines, he worries that he is “being trapped into staying” in the United States. Meanwhile, a guerrilla stalks the Sunbather, chasing her from her island paradise. After that, a voiceover clip in which Brooke Shields only notices the diamonds in Imelda Marcos’ dress instead of the Marcoses’ statement that martial law would end plays, revealing the superficiality of Western interest in Philippine political affairs. Once again, matters of cultural import become mere spectacle for consumers of pop culture (Hagedorn 86).

The Narrator shares her fears that guerrillas will murder everyone in her father’s house, but leave her paralyzed, religious grandmother alive every time she visits the Philippines, which indicates apprehension about her current way of life and an internal acknowledgement of the persistence and power of Philippine traditions, although they may seem obsolete in the melting pot. The Narrator also expresses a divided image of romance and violence, which reappears in the song that follows (Hagedorn 87). By the end of the play, Bongbong has decided to stay in America; however, this decision results in the complete erasure of his name from his letter. His final letter represents the siren song of the American Dream and the trap of self-effacement that lies within assimilation. Meanwhile, the Beachcomber/Waiter enjoys the luxuries left behind by the Sunbather (Hagedorn 89). The final song, entitled “Ming the Merciless,” both embraces and debases Asian stereotypes and alludes to the mental, emotional, and spiritual rifts that arise from inhabiting a cultural interstice (Hagedorn 90). All of the seemingly disparate elements that comprise Tenement Lover: no palm trees/in new york city point to different responses to the call to assimilate. Bongbong assimilates eventually, Ludivinda seeks a way to escape by keeping her gaze riveted to the television, and the Beachcomber/Chauffeur/Waiter plays stereotypical roles and enjoys secondhand luxuries after the Guerrilla dispatches the casual cultural consumer.

Karen Shimakawa describes Jeannie Barroga’s play, Talk-Story, as an experiment with mimesis that examines Filipino American history and popular representations of it through the combination of realism, fantasy, and flashbacks (Shimakawa 110). An edited past, a euphemized present, and a “troubled relationship” with her Caucasian coworker and love interest reveal the need for the protagonist, Dee, to reevaluate her life and the aspects of it that she idolizes (Shimakawa 111). The stories and fantasies of Dee and her father, Frank, serve healing functions and also display the best and worst outcomes associated with the condition of being “color struck” (Shimakawa 113). Ultimately, by Shimakawa’s estimation, the themes of Talk-Story are less subversive and more supportive of the complicated status quo that plagues Asian and Asian American interactions with what is deemed to be mainstream American culture (Shimakawa 115).

Talk-Story focuses on two generations bound by the pain of bigotry and the stories they devise to cope with it (Barroga 1). Barroga creates characters that provide insight into the experiences of Filipinos in America during the 1930s as well as the experiences of Filipino Americans during the 1990s. The playwright uses slides and voiceover to establish the scene as Jessica Hagedorn does in Tenement Lover: no palm trees/in new york city. The play begins as Frank Abano tries to teach his daughter, Dee, the English translation of a love song. Dee, however, wants to hear Frank’s World War II ghost story. Frank tells her the story and ends by advising her to stay strong, since she will always need to face threats alone (Barroga 4). Dee and her friend, Clara, who is the only African American female account representative in their workplace, discuss problems involving discrimination and ways to improve their situations. Clara reveals that Dee acts strongest while imitating 1940s film heroines. Even in the world of her own fantasy, Dee must mimic Caucasian 1940s heroines to even be acknowledged and fight tooth and nail to fulfill her objective. In addition, she remains cognizant of her boss’s superficial awareness of Asian cultures in her fantasy (Barroga 6).

Barroga establishes Dee’s fantasies as subtext in addition to a clear reflection of her deepest desires for herself. Dee’s reality is considerably less romantic: the Chief barely knows who she is and only calls her to write “filler on some kind of Oriental group” in order to fill a quota (Barroga 9). Nevertheless, Dee accepts the task. Dee and Clara turn their seemingly menial assignments, which they hope to use to earn due respect in the workplace, into fodder for a wager on food. In a larger figurative sense, one could read their bet as an instance in which pragmatic manners take precedence over ideals or as a competition between two races facing similar circumstances to see which one goes farther in the least amount of time.

After Dee proposes the bet, she listens to another one of Frank’s stories on tape. Frank discusses antimiscegenation laws, introduces additional Tagalog terms as well as racial slurs used against Filipinos, and tells a story in which he plays an instrumental role in the Watsonville Riot (Barroga 10). He describes racial and cultural conflicts nicely when he states, “When you least want it, worlds collide” (Barroga 11). Frank’s experiences and stories inspire Dee to speak up and stand up for herself when she and Clara are pointedly ignored in a restaurant (Barroga 13).

Dee’s interactions with a Caucasian coworker named Lon further complicate her negotiation of her own identity and the articulation of the oral history to which her father lays his claim. Lon and Dee experience a chance encounter at the movie theatre and bond, which could lead one to argue that Lon is subject to the same fixations on fantasy and “picture perfect” imagery as Dee. Dee’s internalization of Asian stereotypes makes itself apparent when she mentions a preference for Barbara Stanwyck’s dreams rather than her strength and her admiration for tales of sacrifice that are reminiscent of the tried and true Madame Butterfly formula. Lon, who is working with Dee on her column and later becomes her lover, proves to be complacent and essentialist (Barroga 14), interferes with the transmission of her article in its entirety (Barroga 20), and states that he preferred Dee’s company when she had less to say about racial issues (Barroga 22). He leaves her because he cannot understand her frustration and he cannot tolerate what he perceives as her rampant overreaction to imagined slights, and Dee finds that every fantasy that she can conjure ultimately cannot alter that loss. Although Dee loses Lon, she gains a more understanding ally in Clara, who says, “Dee, face the music: some of us don’t want to make the extra efforts, and some of us can’t help but” (Barroga 33).

Tensions among the members of the older generation come to a head when Pedro, Dee’s uncle, confronts Frank about the stories that he has told Dee. It is revealed that Pedro was actually the brother who actively sought to prove points to prejudiced individuals and defend his pride as a Filipino, while Frank sought to “get ahead” by being an eternal optimist and the embodiment of the accommodating Asian stereotype. A mutual friend, Charlie, argues that each man coped with the circumstances in different ways and survived (Barroga 38). After the confrontation with his brother, Frank collapses and ends up in the hospital, where his daughter reveals the extent of her feelings of alienation and asks for the reasoning behind a lifetime of lies. Frank explains that the stories act as balm and armor for the both of them (Barroga 44), but Dee recognizes the tales as crutches. Her realization leads to another epiphany that is articulated when she asks, “I can’t make it here, can I? You tried, and I’m trying; and all the stories … that’s what I wasn’t hearing” (Barroga 45). Once Dee stops Frank from telling another story, he dies.

Karen Shimakawa’s reading of the end of Talk-Story is ultimately somewhat simplistic. Although Dee and Clara continue to play roles, the dynamic has changed by the play’s conclusion. Clara has appropriated a signal used within the Abano family to attract Dee’s attention, and in doing so, has indicated a stronger and more meaningful tie to Dee than she had at the beginning of the play. In addition, even though Dee does not explicitly announce a disavowal of her tendencies to unconsciously prize the idea of whiteness, she clearly does not derive the same enjoyment from mimicking the same figures. Dee also acknowledges that she and Clara have been promoting indulgence in a fantasy, as her uncle did for her father. However, by choosing to play parts with a new, more understanding party, Dee shows an inner strength that exists independently of her old Caucasian role models, carries on her father’s legacy as a storyteller, and begins to tap into the potential to write a new and more readily applicable story for herself and her friend (Barroga 46-47).

Joi Barrios-Leblanc describes Ralph B. Peña’s play, entitled Flipzoids, as an important piece in both Filipino American and Philippine theatre that contributes to an anti-imperialist dialogue (Barrios-Leblanc 419) while preserving a sense of humanity within each of the individual characters rather than reducing them to stock types (Barrios-Leblanc xi). This work preserves the integrity and dignity of the microcosm and macrocosm of humanity alike and displays a sort of permeability of established boundaries by virtue of the parallel experiences associated with both the Filipino immigrant and nation (Barrios-Leblanc 426). Barrios-Leblanc also emphasizes the importance of recognizing rituals as the earliest form of drama in the Philippines, the colonial tendency to debase religious rites until they become mere spectacle, and the play’s effective renewal of ritualistic meaning and sanctity through the provision of a context for what is commonly referred to as the “savage.” (Barrios-Leblanc 422)

Flipzoids also examines the response of first-generation Filipinos and second-generation Filipino Americans to the call for assimilation. A sandbox represents a beach on which the action occurs and also where a large bowl of water used for a ritual sits. Vangie, a first-generation Filipino immigrant, and Redford, a second-generation Filipino American, seek two different lifestyles. Vangie, a nurse, seeks isolation from her home, signified by her headphones that she uses in order to memorize words from the dictionary. She also describes the Philippines in repugnant terms. Redford, who has distinctly platinum bleached hair, seeks a connection. He also feels a sense of cultural displacement, insists that he was “born in the wrong century,” hopes to change his name, and wants to “blend in” (Peña 252).

Vangie dwells on the word “fallible,” then mutters, “Erase, erase, erase” to herself. The utterance is significant on several levels: she is aware of the fragility of the dream of assimilation that has seduced her and of the accompanying necessity of self-effacement. Her mother, Aying, spends a considerable amount of time near the water, since she feels that it brings her closer to home. Aying directly addresses the audience, but Vangie consistently tries to silence her mother out of shame (Peña 253).

Although Aying initially feels the allure of the American Dream, she no longer has any desire to assimilate. According to her, the scent of leather shoes that she once associated with America has turned to the odor of bad pork. Vangie claims it is her mother’s own fault for failing to assimilate. In spite of her daughter’s disapproval, Aying continues to use Tagalog terms and tells the story of a fisherman’s futile expedition that takes a turn for the better once he encounters the Virgin Mary. Redford, on the other hand, seeks a place where he can belong in a more godless realm, which is among social outcasts at the Red Cove or with people using the restroom in the “Barracks,” which is also used as a spot for sexual encounters (Peña 254).

Redford sees Aying while she is performing a cleansing ritual. In Tagalog, she asks that God “help us start / a new / history. / It begins now.” Although Redford sees the power of the ritual and vaguely grasps its significance, he still sees it as exotic, as one can tell when he refers to Aying’s traditional attire as a “period costume.” Nevertheless, he is drawn to Aying (Peña 255).

Redford begins to forge a more meaningful connection with Aying as he listens to her discuss her memories of her home in Pagudpud. She tells Redford about her mother, the plants and food back home, and the way that the river would overflow whenever it rained. She urges Redford to never forget (Peña 256). Redford suggests that his parents believe in the model minority myth (Peña 257). From Aying’s perspective, Redford has successfully assimilated, since he does not “look Pilipino.” Redford emphasizes the possibility of a culture clash through an aside to the audience (Peña 258). At points throughout the play, Aying’s sentiments are underscored by “strains of a Kundiman,” or love song (Peña 259).

The culture clash between Aying and her daughter comes to a head during their trip to the mall. Vangie, still obsessed with questions of reputation and First World fantasies, reveals the depth of her desire for assimilation when she catches her reflection in the glass ceiling and states, “If you looked up quickly … you could not tell me apart. You could not say … she does not belong” (Peña 265). However, she readily acknowledges that there is no place for her “outsider” mother in her perfect image. Vangie’s dreams of assimilation become tainted when her mother spits water on a “classy, very confident” woman as part of a cleansing ritual in which she participated when she lived in the Philippines. Vangie loses her command over English and finds herself reduced to an apologetic, submissive Asian stereotype (Peña 266). Afterwards, she denies any connection to her mother and asks a police officer to escort Aying out of the mall.

The incident leads Aying to the conclusion that she is a burden to her daughter. She asks Redford for assistance in understanding his and Vangie’s perspectives (Peña 267). Redford gives a shoestring to Aying and teaches her a visualization exercise in which she can tie knots in the string whenever she feels internal emotional turmoil, then untie all of the knots to alleviate the pain (Peña 268). Redford asks Aying to teach him how to say “I love you” in Tagalog. Aying responds with “Pangit ako,” which actually translates to “I am ugly.” When Redford repeats it to her, she says, “Me also.” Once Redford leaves, Aying tells her final story in which a mother lets her son cut out her heart so that he can win the affection of the object of his admiration, named Esmeralda. Instead, the young woman is repulsed, and the heart is wasted. The parallels between the mother and Aying, the son, Santiago, and Vangie, and Esmeralda and the United States are evident. Aying erases all traces of herself in the sand, then drops the letter in which Vangie said she would bring Aying to the States as well as the photograph of her father into the water. The sounds of prayer in the background escalate into screams (Peña 269-270). After that, Aying falls silent and spends her days tying and untying knots not only on the shoestring, but everything in the house that can be laced and unlaced.

Redford discusses a nightmare that he has in which he is flying, then weighed down by a force. He gives birth to a baby, starts to suffocate it, then relents. However, he feels that he has nothing to offer to the child. He finds a cow and lets the baby drink the cow’s milk, saying, “Yellow invited White. Come in White, / As white as the milk it devoured.” After that, the baby begins to turn into a cow itself. One could read this section as a disruption of Redford’s journey towards the American Dream by new ideas imparted to him by Aying. The attempt to suffocate the baby is symbolic of an attempt to stifle stories from the first generation. The grotesque transformation of the baby into the calf represents the process of assimilation and the effacement of cultural origins (Peña 271).

Once Aying dies, Vangie finds herself speechless and unsure how to feel. Redford, on the other hand, no longer feels the need to visit the toilet cubicle, since he has stories to transmit and a more meaningful way to connect. In Tagalog, he screams, “I am ugly,” and seems to fully understand what the phrase means. After that, he recalls a memory from the Philippines. He describes the sound of rain, reminiscent of pennies falling into a tin can. He closes with the description of the rain as “a wave … of … music” and states, “There is comfort. There” (Peña 272).

Jessica Hagedorn’s Tenement Lover: no palm trees/in new york city, Jeannie Barroga’s Talk-Story, and Ralph B. Peña’s Flipzoids use structural elements that set them apart from conventionally realistic plays. The use of slides, voiceover, direct address through monologues and asides, and songs in different proportions act as engaging and distancing forces, which reflect the persistent ambivalence that surrounds the Filipino presence in America. The development of the characters in each of the plays reveals that the establishment of a discourse on discrimination requires more than the simple pigeonholing of perpetrator and tragic victim of abjection, or oppressor and oppressed, since a considerable amount of figurative “gray area” exists, particularly in cases where Asian Americans internalize stereotypes about themselves. The composition of the plays also reflects a willingness and ability to reexamine existing cultural boundaries between the Philippines and America. In addition, the three works demystify the Philippines and create a new context for the current narrative by examining actual events in Filipino and Filipino American history, humanizing the characters instead of falling back on caricatures and stereotypes, and urging the viewers not to forget the stories and struggles of their predecessors. Through these structural and thematic elements and the ways in which these elements can be related to a greater historical context, Hagedorn, Barroga, and Peña find ways to tell their own stories on their own terms and ultimately refuse to stand in the shadow of inadequate and insulting images.

Works Cited

Barrios-Leblanc, Joi. "Performing the Philippines." Savage Stage: Plays by Ma-Yi Theater

Company. New York: Ma-Yi Theater Company, 2006. 403-28. Print.

Barrios-Leblanc, Joi. "Staging the ‘Savage’: Ma-Yi Theater Company's History and Its

Productions." Introduction. Savage Stage: Plays by Ma-Yi Theater Company. New York: Ma-Yi Theater Company, 2006. xi-xxx. Print.

Barroga, Jeannie. Talk-Story. But Still, Like Air, I’ll Rise: New Asian American Plays.

Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1997. 1-47. Print.

Hagedorn, Jessica. Tenement Lover: no palm trees/in new york city. Between Worlds:

Contemporary Asian-American Plays. New York: Theatre Communications Group, Inc.,

1990. 75-90. Print.

Lee, Esther K. A History of Asian American Theatre. New York: Cambridge University Press,

2011.

Lee, Josephine. Performing Asian America: Race and Ethnicity on the Contemporary Stage.

Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1997.

Peña, Ralph B. Flipzoids. Savage Stage: Plays by Ma-Yi Theater Company. New York: Ma-Yi

Theater Company, 2006. 249-272. Print.

Shimakawa, Karen. National Abjection: The Asian American Body Onstage. Durham: Duke

University Press, 2002.