Cultural Resistance, Identity, & Selfhood in Frank Chin’s Donald Duk

Of the many witty (and stolen) half-truths and pseudo-philosophical musings of Oscar Wilde, the quintessential Occam’s razor by which most literary intellectuals operate on first came from one of these thoughts uttered in his novel The Picture of Dorian Gray: “To be popular one must be in mediocrity” (Wilde 201). With this in mind, the everlasting and still rising popularity of the bildungsroman genre deems the time ripe for a greater scrutiny of the style. Not only does the genre and its tropes contribute to the greater mediocrity of American storytelling, but the history of the bildungsroman in its Germanic origins reveals a more problematic foundation. A foundation that lies in Enlightenment idealism, bourgeois individualist thinking, and legitimating European nation-states (Slaughter 94). Given how much of the literary community’s works are indebted to the bildungsroman genre, the revolutionary question remains: what is to be done? The answer, naturally, lies in studying the ways artists attempt to change the genre’s foundations. Perhaps instead of studying the ways the bildungsroman presents itself in literature, the literary community should instead study the ways the bildungsroman is resisted. Many important authors have utilized the bildungsroman to tell stories that subvert the Eurocentric standards and expectations of literature, but an example of a text that simultaneously creates a coming-of-age text while also textually and structurally resisting the tropes and historical context of the bildungsroman is Frank Chin’s young adult novel Donald Duk. Chin constructs the burgeoning Asian American identity in ways that dramatically diverge from the traditions of the bildungsroman. Donald Duk presents spiritual experiences of the titular protagonist that are unique to his community and frames the protagonist as learning to actively resist the lessons of society rather than accept the presented facts, both elements that contribute to its resistance of the bildungsroman.

What background understanding we have of the literary tradition of a person’s coming-into narrative is largely based in the European conceptualization of art and literature. When speaking on the relation between plotted narratives and human rights laws, Slaughter notes that:

As part of its institutional conservatism, human rights law aspires to normalize, publicize, and disseminate both its plot of human personality development and responsibility for it, so that rebellion-as an act of collective self-assertion-might be trans-plotted into socially acceptable modes of narrative protest that make individual claims to the state. In fact, by the logic of human rights, the state’s institutional legitimacy depends upon, and is intensified by, the normative modes for expression of consent and dissent that it conventionalizes and makes available to what Georg Lukacs called ‘the problematic individual.’ (Slaughter 91).

Understood in more contemporary terms, as a result of politically conservative attitudes we have seen the removal of revolutionary ideals or ideology from art in favor of normalized media that seeks to justify the imperialist institutions. Within the literary circles concerned with work regarding a young adult audience S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders is simultaneously one of the most well-known and contentious works of YA literature, and understanding the book in relation to Eurocentrism can shed light on this discourse. The bildungsroman narrative in The Outsiders is one that does appeal to a rebellious nature within the audience, but it is a rebellion rooted in bourgeois individualism rather than collective change. Throughout the dark and violent twists that Ponyboy’s life takes as he attempts to find where he belongs in society, the novel ultimately concludes with Ponyboy seeking guidance from his English teacher in order to both individually fulfill a role left for him and bring about a return to normalcy (Hinton 152-153). Deconstructing this, the first problem of this narrative is that it leaves no room for answering injustices faced by the other characters in Ponyboy’s community. Ultimately, the trajectory that Ponyboy’s life will take based on the ending is one that places him as an individual further from a problematic situation rather than seek to radically change the lives of his peers for the better. The second problem we see here is that the bildungsroman narrative ultimately places the institutions of education and social reform as the beacons of self-actualization. As we see in the works of scholars such as Edward Said and John Dewey, higher education historically has existed to eradicate contentious or culturally “challenging” elements against a racial hierarchy. Therefore, we can understand the plot of The Outsiders as “…a plot for keeping the broken promise of the Enlightenment with the individual’s reabsorption into universal humanity through the ‘natural’ medium of the nation-state” (Slaughter 92). Like other works that would legitimize the institutions of social control and authority, The Outsiders ultimately uses its bildungsroman narrative to convey a faith in the American education system and a nostalgic understanding of European philosophies that inevitably justified colonialism. While this novel, like many, can be studied as a piece of bourgeois propaganda for technical purposes, it becomes problematic when one examines the placement of the book in the canon of bildungsroman literature. Not only because the Eurocentrism of the novel and genre go unquestioned, but also because the question of what rebellious identity constructed through art looks like is further muddied.

As contentious of a figure as Frank Chin is, there is much to be learned from his work as a cultural critic and as a young adult novelist. On one hand there is validity to criticizing Chin’s overtly masculine and antagonistic attitude towards Asian American art in contextualizing artists as either “real”' or “fake”, and this is something to keep in mind when studying his work. What also must be understood is Chin’s importance to Asian America, having played an important role in rediscovering early Asian American literature of Carlos Bulosan, Toshio Mori, and John Okada. He is also credited with working to create the Day of Remembrance for commemorating interned Japanese Americans, an act that explicitly resists the narrative of the Asian American as a model minority (Choy 2005). In knowing this, Donald Duk as a novel cannot be separated from the political and cultural criticisms that permeate works that concern themselves with Asian Americans. Donald Duk separates itself from a large number of bildungsroman novels immediately because of this; whereas the traditional narratives brush away political commentary with meek calls for liberal reform and the popular narratives ignore the discourse outright, Chin’s novel imagines a bildungsroman that both seeks to be politically radical and culturally relevant to a youth audience. Other bildungsroman novels from Asian communities have had similar, or at least related, themes and ideals such as Gene Luen Yang’s American Born Chinese or Mariko and Jillian Tamaki’s Skim, but Donald Duk still differentiates itself from those works. What separates this novel from other works in the community is the foregrounding of cultural heritage as the source for both concern and liberation by the characters and the esoteric elements of spiritual awakening that permeate the narrative.

Whether one is studying Donald Duk as either a young adult novel or a book in any other subgenre, the topic of Chinese American heritage and culture inevitably must be discussed. Because of this, the novel functions as a more actively rebellious bildungsroman than what typically appears in novels portraying elements of youth. By foregrounding the titular protagonist as a minority in an explicitly racist society, Chin ensures that every analysis of Donald Duk must acknowledge the history of Chinese Americans and the artistic tradition, beliefs, and concerns of the community. In doing so, no room is made for bourgeois individualist understandings of the content. Donald Duk, in all of his concerns, beliefs, and desires, is a member of a marginalized community and inevitably reflects a part of it. A reoccurring dream character of Donald Duk’s psyche is Fred Astaire, a man who has captured Donald’s imagination as the ideal artist and a man who is adored by his white teachers and classmates (Chin 1). The adoration Donald Duk has for Fred Astaire manifests in the man literally appearing from Donald’s dreams into his life, as a replacement father figure due to Donald’s shame of being Chinese.

Donald is not alone in how Fred Astaire has captured his imagination, for there is the existence of “The Chinese Fred Astaire” who teaches Donald tap dancing lessons (Chin 50). This Chinese Fred Astaire known as Larry Louie is also enamored by the famous dancer but doesn’t wish to become a white idol like how Donald Duk does, for which Donald derides him. In Donald’s eyes, “Teaching is all Larry Louie is good at. [Donald Duk] does not want to look like Larry Louie when he is an old man. Larry Louie is a failure because he does not really want to be Fred Astaire. Donald Duk wants to be Fred Astaire” (Chin 52). Unlike Donald, Larry Louie is presented as someone who simultaneously can admire other cultures (be they white TV stars or Spanish flamenco guitar playing) while still retaining a distinctly Chinese identity. Chin portrays the American admiration for Fred Astaire as not unique to Donald Duk as an individual but permeating over many Chinese Americans, and thus it becomes a source of conflict for the characters. While some people look to Fred Astaire in the shame of their own skin and physique, others react to the cultural hemisphere that he occupies with a strengthened identity and knowledge of who they are. Because Chin allows Fred Astaire to literally come into the novel and influence Donald Duk, Chin portrays the sociological impact of white hegemonic culture with real consequences on the character’s imaginations. The image we see of one’s cultural and historic legacy being transmuted into a source of shame through the powers of racist cultural hierarchy and assimilative social policy is impossible to ignore.

Ultimately, Fred Astaire is an illusion still. What is not an illusion are Donald’s dreams of the Chinese workers and the American railroad systems of the West coast. The dreams Donald Duk has of his ancestors are vivid in description and bring about a spiritual awakening in him, turning a boy who wishes he wasn’t Chinese to a boy who wishes all of America knew about these Chinese who played an important role in the foundation of America. Whereas critics would be quick to write off these sequences as elementary magic realism, this would be a mistake in understanding Chin’s approach to the Chinese American heritage. Donald Duk is not only witnessing his cultural history, but his familial history as the first Chinese to have come to America (Chin 26). There is intentional ambiguity as to whether Donald is actually witnessing the legendary Kwan Kung wield impossible weaponry or if he himself is actually brought back in time or not, and this serves to dispel the question of fantastical elements rather than confirm them. The ways in which people experience history, heritage, and family lineage do not always fit a “realistic” narrative, and by blurring the lines between reality, memory, and fantasy Chin ultimately deems the question of what is and isn’t real, irrelevant. Kwan Kung is a real figure in Chinese mythology, the Chinese rail workers were real people in American history, and the Chinese Americans who inherit the history of these figures are real people. In no uncertain terms Donald Duk’s dreams and imagination are rooted in a spiritual understanding of Chinese American history, and because of this, Donald Duk as a bildungsroman cannot be studied as an individualist narrative. It explicitly places the experiences of the characters in a Chinese American context, differentiating itself from the Eurocentric history of the bildungsroman and paving a new mode of understanding young adult characters.

Of course, if Donald Duk functioned allegorically as a vessel for the burgeoning Chinese American identity but functioned characteristically as a quintessential model minority the novel would be quite problematic. Fortunately, Donald Duk is textually blessed with a rebellious streak and the gift of gab. Troublemaker protagonists in young adult literature are a topic in and of themselves, but the most important element the audience can take away from Donald is that the nature of questioning one’s self and surroundings is not unusual. Even when Donald Duk is hung up and sore over being a Chinese American, he still displays disgust at the education he receives in the majority-white school he goes to. Chin creates the schoolteacher Mr. Meanwright as a rather explicit portrayal of what the common stereotypes of Eastern Asian men were and makes Donald Duk both disgusted in having to learn about the Chinese at all and then disgusted in learning that everything he is being taught about them is a lie. We see this conflict as Mr. Meanwright reads from an orientalist history book and Donald Duk’s reaction:

“[Mr. Meanwright] reads, ‘The Chinese in America were made passive and nonassertive by centuries of Confucian thought and Zen mysticism. They were totally unprepared for the violently individualistic and democratic Americans. From their first step on American soil to the middle of the twentieth century, the timid, introverted Chinese have been helpless against the relentless victimization by aggressive, highly competitive Americans’… The teacher takes a breath and looks over his spellbound class. Donald wants to barf pink and green stuff all over the teacher’s teacher’s book” (Chin 2-3).

Compare Donald Duk’s disgust in being taught an image of the Chinese man as inferior to his later reaction after learning of the labor his ancestors put into developing the railroads throughout Western America. Through both his spiritual and intellectual awakening to this hidden truth, Donald Duk learns to turn his inner fire not against his people and heritage but against those who taught him to hate those things and by extension himself. Donald Duk confronts Mr. Meanwright, and allegorically the education system, with his heritage and history:

“‘You are… sir, Mr. Meanwright, not correct about us being passive, noncompetitive. We did the blasting through Summit Tunnel. We worked through two hard winters in the high Sierras. We went on strike for back pay and Chinese foremen for Chinese gangs, and won. We set the world’s record for miles of track laid in one day. We set our last crosstie at Promontory. And it is badly informed people like you who keep us out of that picture there.’ Donald Duk jerks his chin up to look down his face with killer eyes of the Last Spike ceremony… The Chinese with picks and shovels in their hands work in minop jackets…” (Chin 150-151).

Donald Duk as a character going through a coming of age story is fascinating because of moments like this. Moments that are a chimera between the lessons of spiritually understanding one’s legacy that’s been censored and the importance of challenging institutions that have historically existed specifically to censor are moments that make the novel worth looking at as a radical bildungsroman rather than a reactionary one. In challenging the foundations of the bildungsroman, more room for creativity and cultural discourse can be made within the genre.

Contextually if we look into the actual history of how the early Asian American artists fought to form an identity of their own, we can see parallels to the narrative course Donald Duk plays out in. Of course, we should not mean to interpret anything in the novel as explicitly autobiographical, rather we should see that the history of resistance to stereotypes and genre convention is not unique to only a few of the Asian American authors. While Asian/Pacific Islander art grew to become more popular in the colonizer’s world, with them came a new batch of stereotypes that too had to be defeated by those the stereotype misidentified. The popular novels of the time may have broken new ground on whether Asian American art could even succeed amongst white audiences, but they also appealed to white audiences on the level of racist ideas of what Asian American people were like. With the debate between scholars and artists over what was or wasn’t selling out for a racist audience, radical ideas and conceptions of story were created and catalogued by many. A fire was born in the community, and Frank Chin bore witness and personally played a role in many of these battles. He saw the stereotypes of Asian peoples being portrayed as sojourners, misogynists, and passive when contrasted with European ideals and wrote to combat them (Chin 9). In seeing the need to differentiate from European ideology, we can then see the literary need to differentiate from European genre. From this we can see that Donald Duk as a bildungsroman, whether we find its contents accessible or esoteric, optimistic or bitter, we can at least acknowledge it as a revolutionary take on the bildungsroman approach to understanding the self.

Works Cited

Chin, Frank. Come All Ye Asian American Writers. Penguin Books, 1991.

Chin, Frank. Donald Duk: a Novel. Coffee House Press, 2008.

Choy, Curtis, director. What's Wrong with Frank Chin? Chonk Moonhunter, 2005.

Hinton, S.E. The Outsiders. Penguin Books, 2019.

Nevile, Jill, and Oscar Wilde. The Picture of Dorian Grey. Oxford University Press, 2008.

Said, Edward W. Orientalism. Pantheon Books, 1978

Slaughter, Joseph R. Human Rights, Inc.: the World Novel, Narrative Form, and International Law. Fordham Univ. Press, 2009.

Download the paper here

Victor Ellifritt is a Thai-American student at UF studying English literature. He currently lives in Gainesville, FL and habitually enjoys weight-lifting, writing fiction by Asian Americans for Asian Americans. His artistic and intellectual influences include Nagisa Oshima, DJ Screw, Vladimir Lenin, Flannery O’Connor, and Malcolm X.