Tropic of Orange - Karen Tei Yamashita

            Karen Tei Yamashita’s novel The Tropic of Orange explores the interaction of the racial and ethnic stereotypes of her main characters, and also how these misconceptions are often defied.  I am most intrigued by Emi’s character, and I feel as though her characterization will play a much more prominent role in the chapters to come.  Her identity as a Japanese American (humorously self-abbreviated as J.A.) is anything but stereotypical.  She jokes of being switched at birth, as the woman she has become defies the stereotype of the quiet and passive Asian female.  Yet her overtly sexual nature plays right into the hands of the American male’s fetishistic view of Asian women.

Her sexual extroversion builds a stereotypically masculine image in the void left by Gabriel’s emasculation.  His vehicle is stranded on the side of the road and she pulls up in her sexy sports car oozing machismo in his rescue.  Gabriel describes, “Emi gunned the Supra around the corner, jammed into first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, dancing up and down each gear to the vehicle’s purring acceleration.  ‘I love to shift gears,’ she gripped the stick and confessed over the wailing tango” (61).  Her Supra is a manual transmission, something stereotypically mastered only by the most macho of men.  She handles “the stick” like a woman who definitely knows her way around phallic objects.

Emi’s hyper-sexual behavior could be taken as feminist in nature; her sexual prowess over men (such as Gabriel) could become an equalizer in a patriarchal society.  But certain aspects of her countenance reveal that her need for Gabriel is just as great as his for her.  Gabriel admits, “a cool recognition at the sight of Emi’s sleek black twin-turbo Supra.  As Emi liked to say, everything about her vehicular possession purred, Detail me.  Detail me.  She gunned the motor to let anyone watching know that she was picking him up” (60).  The line “Detail me” denotes that this sexual act is something which will be performed upon Emi, and not an exertion of her own sexual agency.  But at the same time, she revs her engine to make very clear that she is the one in control of the situation, she is the one saving him from his roadside woes.

Emi’s overt sexuality is interesting to me mostly because of its potential to either titillate or alienate Gabriel.  Gabriel clearly enjoys the witty banter that he exchanges with Emi, but only up to a certain point.  Rafaela, on the other hand, is described as much more sensitive, earthy, and even passive.  Rafaela’s version of femininity could be viewed as much more stereotypical, yet we are given glimpses of Gabriel’s longing for her.  Early on Gabriel confesses, “I found myself thinking constantly about Rafaela” (45).  What is the reader supposed to discern from Emi’s failure to fully satisfy Gabriel’s needs despite her obvious sexual superiority?  I almost feel as though Yamashita is setting us up for another anti-feminist “happy ending” in which the good girl gets the guy.  Emi’s overt sexuality should not be punished by the narrative; neither should Bobby’s crass materialism.  The Asian stereotype is starkly contrasted with that of the Latin American; Asians are depicted as current and consumption-obsessed, and Latinos are nostalgic and sentimental.  Yamashita would do well to avoid falling into racial stereotyping her characters, despite her best efforts to the contrary.