Sympathetic portrayals of east Asians in western popular culture are few and far between. It’s not surprising that every time we are recognised by the mainstream media, there comes a flurry of tweets and thinkpieces proclaiming a new era of social acceptance.

Before it was released, Crazy Rich Asians – a romantic comedy centred on a very privileged community in Singapore – was being declared our “Black Panther moment”. Likewise, it has been suggested that the recent success of 88rising,the American media company that signed Rich Brian, joji, and other popular Asian rappers, could overturn a long history of stereotyping and underrepresentation. But should we believe the hype?



Stereotypes about east Asian people are prevalent and deep-seated within rap music. This year, there was a brief murmur of disapproval after Wiz Khalifa dropped an album featuring the line “smoke got my eyes looking Korean”. But Eminem, Kanye West, Tyler the Creator and many more besides have received relatively little – if any – backlash for their own variations on the same “slanty eyes” gag. Unsurprisingly, east Asian women get a particularly bad rap; lines about “yellow bitches” abound, while fetishised “Geisha girls” and “China dolls” have become stock characters in braggadocious music videos.

When 88rising’s Asian rappers first started blowing up online , I was eager to see if their success would upend these tactless traditions. Granted, individual rap songs could rarely be considered personal attacks on east Asians – these stereotypes are amongmany lyrical tropes that American rappers like to recite. But new contexts can reshape the hip-hop lexicon. Once upon a time, Donald Trump was hip-hop’s byword for money and success, but since his election, references to the president of the United States have been anything but reverential.



Unfortunately, since launching in 2015, 88rising (whose roster goes on tour in north America later this month) has done little to confront hip-hop’s habit of demeaning and exoticising east Asian people. In the video for Dat $tick – 88rising’s biggest hit to date – Indonesian rapper Rich Brian performed in a buttoned-up polo and fanny pack, all the while referring to himself as a “Chigga”. The track itself may have drawn respect from American rappers such as Cam’ron and 21 Savage, but they also couldn’t help laughing at Brian’s stereotypically nerdy threads.

Self-parody? Japanese-Australian rapper Joji. Photograph: -

Meanwhile, Japanese-Australian artist joji was releasing tracks like Rice Balls and Small Dick under the comedy rap alias Pink Guy. Since signing to 88rising, joji has been making more sombre trip-hop ballads, but he still goes by the Twitter and Instagram handle @sushitrash. Self-parody gets Asian artists noticed on social media, but it might also give American rappers a pretext to continue dropping perfunctory quips about our “slanty eyes”.

Stateside, all of the hip-hop artists signed to 88rising are best known for their viral music videos, often because these videos have made effective use of very conspicuous and memeable displays of Asianness. Chinese hip-hop group Higher Brothers, for instance, have sexualised east Asian women in their music videos as brazenly as any US rapper. This month 88rising uploaded a promotional film for its compilation album, Head in the Clouds, which featured geishas, wok-fried jewels, and break-dancers in coolieh hats – an orientalist mashup of the most recognisable Asian signifiers.

But all these outward shows of eastern identity are somewhat incongruous with the music itself, which is heavily influenced by the US trap artists that have ruled the hip-hop game in recent years. Consequently, despite their impressive triplet beats and flows, to an English-speaking hip-hop head not much can distinguish 88rising’s rappers from their American peers besides the orientalist sheen of their music videos. Hence the repeated labelling of Higher Brothers as “the Chinese Migos”, or of Keith Ape as “the Korean OG Maco”.

Taking inspiration from today’s rap while playing up to Western preconceptions of Asianness has so far been 88rising’s winning blueprint for a crossover success. Rather than confront hip-hop’s historically problematic perceptions of east Asians, the company has looked for fast-track ways to give Asian artists street cred – from setting up remixes and collaborations with other trap artists, to releasing “reaction videos” featuring respected US rappers. 88rising has sold its artists as the model minority of hip-hop: exotic, sometimes comical foreigners who have assimilated their music into the predominant American sound.

Of course, Asian rappers should be free to poke fun at themselves if they so choose, and in some instances these artists have actually found ways to express Asianness that go beyond self-parody. Keith Ape, for instance, animates his music videos with a bold cyberpunk aesthetic, while the lyrics to Higher Brothers’ Made in China cleverly subvert perceptions of their country as just the factory of the world. Playing on east Asian stereotypes could itself be a canny move by 88rising, bringing attention to its artists before they transition into weightier, more meaningful hip-hop. This year, two years after making his mark in a buttoned-up polo and fanny pack, Rich Brian released Amen - a romantic, very personal debut album which he described as his “introduction to a more serious rap”.

But for Rich Brian and other rappers on the 88rising roster, US trap remains an overbearing influence, while serious reflections on race are generally absent from their verses. Which is frustrating to me, because embodying a more radical politics of difference needn’t be a barrier to international success. Just take English-Sri Lankan rapper MIA, who combined classic hip-hop with globally conscious bars and South Asian instrumentation; 88rising still doesn’t have a bigger crossover hit than her Paper Planes.

Sean Miyashiro, founder of 88rising, has said: “We’re not trying to break stereotypes or change people’s mindsets. We’re showing people what we can do.” So far it’s been an effective policy, bringing unforeseen recognition to east Asian rappers on the world stage while proving that they can make dope records. But now they have that platform, these artists have the opportunity to do more than viral hits. By truly upending expectations in a genre that has become overloaded with the most flippant caricatures of their people, 88rising’s rappers could be the subversive and empowering voices in popular culture that so many east Asians have been waiting to hear.