The six men on stage included a poet, a break dancer and a filmmaker. They pounded rhythms on the dhol drum, proclaimed “Vietnamese Men Are Lovers” or applied whipped cream to bare skin. They modeled sport coats and sleepwear and discussed their passion for community service.

Conspicuously absent from the “Mr. Hyphen” contest—a 3-year-old San Francisco Bay-area faux pageant aimed at redefining the image of Asian-American men

STOP.  Right there.

Let’s clarify a couple of things.  First, what exactly are they trying to redefine?

Zia said the earliest American images of Asians depicted them as a subhuman, invading, vermin-like population, then as servile and emasculated. Modern stereotypes focus on “model minority” smart students, Fu Manchu villains and kung-fu action heroes.

And they choose to correct this perception by...rubbing themselves down with whipped cream and prancing around in their pajamas?

Really?

“This is about changing the view in the American mind and the American culture about what is the Asian-American man.”

Well, there’s good change, and then there’s...the other kind.

The contest was established in 2006 by Hyphen magazine, an all-volunteer publication dedicated to covering Asians in America in all their complexity.

Let’s talk about your hyphen.  Specifically, defining yourself by your hyphen.  What do professional activists say about your hyphen?

You probably think your hyphen is a sign of purity.  Your parents may have encouraged you to keep your hyphen, and perhaps even said disparaging things about your peers who went out and lost their hyphens at a young age - perhaps even called them bad names.  And it’s true, getting rid of your hyphen can be difficult, and often even painful.

But losing your hyphen is part of growing up and becoming part of a broader culture; this is a new era, and the moral stigma certain fanatical individuals attach to a broken hyphen are a relic of a bygone age.  You should be proud to be rid of your hyphen.  It marks you as an adult, ready to join the community around you that awaits with open arms.

(That was paraphrased from the copy of “Our Bodies, Ourselves” I found on my radical feminist aunt’s bookshelf when I was 10.  I didn’t understand all the words, but some of the pictures were awesome.)