Can one writer single-handedly compel the world’s strongest nation to inject greater concern for human rights into its foreign policy? Thirty-three-year-old Samantha Power set out to do exactly that in her Pulitzer prize-winning book, A Problem From Hell, which chronicles the indifference of the world’s more powerful nations, particularly the United States, to genocide in the twentieth century.  

Power was a war correspondent in Bosnia in the mid-1990s and was frustrated at how little impact the horrific stories that she and her colleagues wrote about Serb atrocities had on U.S. policy-making. Her book both seeks to explain the reasons for this inaction and to indict the responsible policy-makers for their indifference. Through cases studies of many of these slaughters–the Turks’ 1915 decimation of the Armenians, the Holocaust, the Khmer Rouge’s wipeout of 30 percent of the Cambodian people, Saddam Hussein’s gassing of the Kurds, the Hutu murder of 800,000 Tutsis in Rwanda, and Serbian ethnic cleansing in Bosnia and Kosovo–Power demonstrates how the United States has consistently failed to respond to these massive human tragedies.  

By carefully documenting what policy-makers knew and when–even with the primitive technology available in 1915, The New York Times ran 145 stories about the killings of the Armenians–she removes the central rationalization for inaction. That the oft-heard post-Holocaust promise of never again” can co-exist alongside this record of non-intervention Power views as rank hypocrisy. Indeed, as she quotes writer David Rieff, “never again” might best be defined as, “Never again would Germans kill Jews in Europe in the 1940s.”

Less a work of original scholarship than a carefully researched and arrestingly written call to arms, Power’s book is clearly intended to jolt the world, and particularly U.S. policy-makers, into greater action in the future. And for a book that was dropped as too macabre by its original publisher, Random House, and one that was for a time refused by all the publishers in New York, it has made a remarkable splash. Former U.N. Ambassador Richard Holbrooke bought forty-five copies and distributed it widely, including one to U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan. After she published an article in The Atlantic in 2001 about governmental inaction in Rwanda, a memo summarizing the argument was given to President Bush, who wrote on it, “NOT ON MY WATCH.” If Power’s goal was to get prevention of genocide on the radar screen of the nation and the world’s most powerful people, the book is a rousing success.

Rhetoric and reality

How or whether these words translate to action, of course, is another matter. Judging from Power’s own description of the past, vague commitments to do the right thing are a dime a dozen, whereas a willingness to expend political capital, disrupt alliances, or risk soldiers is less likely than a Red Sox World Series championship. These past episodes of genocide did not suffer from a lack of idealistic academics, muckrakers in the press, or committed congressional staffers trying to raise the issue. These people are the tragic heroes of Power’s book, and their stories bear retelling.  

First among them was Raphael Lemkin, a Polish-Jewish legal academic, who invented the term genocide in 1945 to ensure that there was a single term that would distinctively capture the horrors perpetrated by Hitler against the Jews (including Lemkin’s family) and by the Turks against the Armenians. Lemkin spent much of his remaining years pushing the U.N. Genocide convention, first at the United Nations, where it passed in 1948, and then trying to get the domestic legislatures of the various countries to sign off. Lemkin worked himself to the bone–living off donations, haunting halls around the world where genocide was being debated–and died penniless in 1959.  

Others since have worked with equal fervor and disregard to their personal health, specifically Senate staffer Peter Galbraith’s unauthorized (and unprotected) trip to Iraq in 1991 that documented the Iraqis’ murderous repression of the Kurdish uprising. But despite the sympathy that Power evokes for Lemkin, Galbraith, and the various others who tried to bring genocide to the fore, the dominant message of her story is how these valiant efforts have been overwhelmed by the forces arrayed against them. There is a deep irony in Power carrying on their mission in large part by cataloging their failures.  

Specifically, two familiar and unchanging factors of the American political system consistently doomed their efforts: 1) a foreign policy that prioritizes national self-interest (generally defined as winning the Cold War for most of the period Power covers), and 2) a pluralist political system that is most responsive to organized and/or well-financed interests. Politicians, in turn, recognize that they do not have the domestic backing for interventions even if they are so inclined, and thus develop a variety of ways to downplay the horrors: by avoiding the use of the word “genocide” (Rwanda), by portraying the conflicts as ancient multi-sided ethnic struggles instead of as genocide (Bosnia), and by justifying state killings as a legitimate means of political repression against an insurgent group (Cambodia, Iraq).  

It is not that the American political system doesn’t work, Power ruefully concludes–it is that it works too well in representing American interests that are narrowly defined. As one reviewer pointed out, a foreign policy realist might wonder not why the United States does not generally intervene to prevent genocide, but rather why it ever would.  

Facing this climate, perhaps all that Power’s work could hope to do is stir the moral outrage that might bring about the political pressure to act against genocide. Indeed, Power recounts that National Security Adviser Anthony Lake told Human Rights Watch two weeks into the Rwandan genocide to “Make more noise!” Power’s book makes a lot of noise. But the noise comes at the price of some needed clarity, particularly in a newly constituted world where the wiping out of (selected) previously genocidal regimes is now claimed to be part of a more broadly defined set of national interests. The questions that Power avoids are ones that have become the paramount ones in this new world. What kind of human-rights violations are significant enough to override state sovereignty? Does it matter whether the intervention is unilateral or multilateral? Does it matter whether the genocide is in the past or on going? Power provides a devastating critique of the consequences of inaction, but does not specify the criteria for when it is appropriate to act.  

Indeed, some have even claimed that left-leaning critics’ cry about genocide in the 1990s–and the American-driven NATO bombings of Bosnia in 1995 and Kosovo in 1999–paved the road for Bush to declare preemptive war against Iraq in the new century. Writing in the London Review of Books, Stephen Holmes argued that “the 1990s advocates of humanitarian intervention have…helped rescue from the ashes of Vietnam the ideal of America as a global policeman, undaunted by other countries’ borders, defending civilisation against the forces of ‘evil’. By denouncing the U.S. primarily for standing idly by when atrocity abroad occurs, they have helped repopularise the idea of America as a potentially benign imperial power.” Holmes notes that key Bush administration unilateralist hawks Paul Wolfowitz and Richard Perle were among those who supported the interventions in Bosnia and Kosovo outside of the U.N. framework. In Holmes’ view, Power has “bequeathed a risky legacy” to the current administration through her endorsement of American-led, unilateral if necessary, intervention to protect human rights.  

We can’t place responsibility for the Iraq war on Power’s shoulders. No one has yet claimed that she is part of Bush’s Straussian “cabal,” and there is nothing in A Problem From Hell that suggests she would not have supported it. In large part, this is because at the time the book was written, after a century of American shirking of responsibility, the danger of too much intervention was not even a possibility.  

But there is another reason as well. Because Power’s primary goal was to motivate complacent policy-makers and a dormant public to greater concern for the victims of genocide, the book does not spend any time exploring the underlying issue of when it is or is not appropriate to intervene. Rather than try to reason us into some kind of consensus about when intervention is morally required, she begins by presenting us the death of nine-year-old girl in Sarajevo at the hands of a Serbian shell and then dares the reader to rationalize permitting genocide.  

This is by no means an uncontestable point. Even the leading just-war theorist on the left, Michael Walzer, sees genocide occurring within a state as a sufficient justification for war, but not one that imposes a duty on other powers to intervene. But to enter into this philosophical dialogue would detract from the book’s moral clarity that is its greatest strength. In other words, by choosing to take the crucial question of whether it is appropriate to intervene and positing it as a given, Power simultaneously gives her work a kind of punch it would not otherwise have had and leaves herself unable to deal with the changed problems posed in the new century.

The dithering and the messianic

In a more recent piece in The New Republic, Power takes a more analytical approach, and begins to diagram her view of what a foreign policy committed to human rights might look like. She tries to steer a middle course between the dithering, power-averse, “We can all get along” Clinton foreign policy of the 1990s, and the messianic, power-loving, “You’re with us or against us” Bush foreign policy of the past two years. Clinton’s strategy she derides as impotent and naïve about the ways of the world; Bush is overly cocksure and he unnecessarily alienates countries that should be allies. She favors the stated Clinton policy of acting “multilaterally when we can and unilaterally when we must” over the Bush administration’s implied policy of acting unilaterally when we can and multilaterally when we must.  

But more than the United States’ unilateralism, what bothers Powers is what she neatly labels its “a la cartism”–the mishmash of foreign policies that indicates to the rest of the world that the United States is only interested in human rights when it is otherwise convenient. To bomb Kosovo but to ignore Chechnya, and to gripe about the lack of democracy in Palestine but not in Pakistan, invites cynicism from the rest of the world when America claims to be acting on the basis of human rights in Iraq. (Not to mention the fact that, as Power points out, U.S. aid to Iraq doubled the year after Hussein gassed the Kurds.)  

Power would prefer the United States to come clean and acknowledge all of the black marks on its past record. Going forward, she argues that preventing genocide is only one part of a larger set of goals concerning human rights. For that reason, she suggests that human rights should be a stated consideration in all foreign policy decisions, including those that on the surface have little to do with human rights. Each treaty, photo-op and oil contract should be considered in light of its human rights implications.  

Knowing that it is naïve to argue for troop deployments too often, Power wants the United States use its entire toolbox of options (sanctions, moral censure, diplomatic pressure) to avert human rights abuses. Power argues that such a policy would be morally consistent, and would make the United States more attractive to the allies it needs in its war on terrorism. The battle to convince our allies over Iraq, Power avers, was less a battle over the nature of the Iraqi regime than it was one over the character of the U.S. regime. A foreign policy that consistently makes human rights central would not only be right, it would protect national interests by projecting an image of America that would be harder for terrorists to demonize and easier for allies to embrace.  

Power’s vision is difficult to evaluate responsibly, in large part because it rests upon a set of propositions about how others would react to a hypothetical foreign policy. But at least it is a vision–a way of drawing lines is at least somewhat realistically grounded in the ways of the world, but still idealistic in its aims. More context-specific than abstract concepts like just war theory, but more consistent and principled than a case-by-case approach, Power has articulated the kind of middle-range paradigm that is sorely needed to help us think about foreign policy in the post-September 11 world.  

As liberal intellectual George Packer has pointed out, the terms of the public debate over Iraq pushed liberals into an uncomfortable ambivalence: While they saw preemption as a dangerous precedent, thought war should still be a last resort, and distrusted the Bush administration’s motives, they were left defending a status quo that resulted in severe repression and was opposed by the majority of the Iraqi people. Power’s paradigm recasts the debate in a way that allows liberals to recapture their defining idealism by committing to a broader vision of protecting human rights, without being drawn into the dangers of preemptive war.

In the long run, creating this kind of middle-range paradigm may prove an even more powerful way of meeting Power’s ultimate objective of injecting concern for human rights into American foreign policy. The role played by Wolfowitz, William Kristol, and others, who have been outlining the case for war with Iraq since at least the mid-1990s, is only the most recent example of how idea-people can radically remake the world. As the Democratic presidential candidates mumble vaguely about the importance of strength, brag about past service, or join the reflexive anti-war left, it is striking how comparatively unprepared they are to articulate a vision for how to responsibly deploy American power in a world filled with terrorists and human rights abusers.  

To be sure, there can never be too few voices making noise about genocide. Even now, as the wars in Liberia and the Congo hang precipitously on the edge of the radar of the Western world, Power’s voice rings daily in my ears, reminding me that civil war is not an excuse for inaction if genocide is going on, and that history will judge us badly if we turn away. But it is also true that noise is not the only way to make change, and that the attacks of September 11 have made this a critical branching moment for the future of U.S. foreign policy, one that is just waiting for an intelligent paradigm to counter Bush’s simplistic preemption doctrine. We can only hope that Power, or someone with similar knowledge and commitment to human rights, will step in to fill the void.”

In The Fray Contributor

John Herbers was expecting something different when he turned to the Florida Highway patrolmen observing a civil rights protest. Protection, perhaps, from the white locals who were threatening to beat him up. They told me I had to get out of town, put me in a police car, and drove me away,” said Herbers, who was covering Martin Luther King, Jr.’s 1964 visit for the New York Times. “They weren’t there to help me do my job, and that was the same in community after community.”

Herbers and other journalists on assignment in the South often found themselves plunged into an unfamiliar country where the rule of law no longer seemed to apply. Neither news reporting nor social protest would be the same after this intersection of media and movement, which is chronicled in the new two-volume anthology Reporting Civil Rights: American Journalism 1941-1973.

The first volume, culled mostly from small black papers close to the early flashpoints, documents a slowly festering anger ignored by the mainstream press. But by the 1960s, explosive events like race riots, the Montgomery bus boycott, and King’s Selma march had grabbed national attention. The writers who covered the movement present a wide array of viewpoints–from the immediacy of daily reports from Little Rock, Selma, and Birmingham to essays and magazine pieces by famous names like John Hersey, James Baldwin, Robert Penn Warren, Joan Didion, and even a remarkably sober piece on integration in Louisville by Hunter S. Thompson.

In the first years of the movement, getting the media’s attention was a struggle in itself. Discrimination and racism were dismissed as local problems by major news outlets. Sit-ins were considered pranks; no one knew about lynchings unless someone called the wire. Many Southern papers differentiated between blacks and whites in print. White women, for instance, were given the “Mrs.” Courtesy title, and black women were not.

Change came slowly. In the essay “Mrs. Means Married Woman,” Hodding Carter explains his decision to change his small Greenville, Mississippi, paper’s policy after a black reader’s entreaty in 1951. “Behind her request was the persistent, long-unanswered demand that we–not just we of Mississippi, or of the South, but the Western white people who are an amalgam of so many anciently blended bloods–recognize that what the darker peoples of the world require and must get from us is a recognition of their right to human dignity and self-respect,” Carter wrote. “I do not think that the incident was really small or that the decision that came from it was inconsequential.”

It took conflict and organized protest to bring the issues to mainstream America’s attention. “The movement was all about press,” says Stanford University professor Clayborne Carson, an editor of the anthology. “Southern blacks knew the only way they could call attention to the problem was to get the word out to the whole country.” The nonviolent protests in Birmingham and the riots that accompanied civil rights marches across the South riveted the nation. Civil rights activists organized to get press attention, from the early lunch counter sit-ins to the massive marches that brought national television into the struggle.

For journalists who witnessed the tumultuous events, reporting on civil rights reached beyond the story. If reporters took authority figures at their word in the years immediately after World War II, the civil rights movement forced a radical reassessment of their relationship to authority. “If McCarthy said he had a list, well, then, he had a list,” remembers anthology co-editor Bill Kovach, chairman of the Committee of Concerned Journalists. “As reporters began to see people being jailed, beaten, murdered under the cover of law and authority, that changed the fundamental opinion of what law and government was all about.””

In The Fray Contributor

I remember reaching for the first issue of aMagazine when I saw it on a drugstore newsstand more than a decade ago. Here, I thought to myself, was a magazine unlike the others that I was reading–Sports Illustrated and Newsweek, at the time. Here was a magazine that purported to speak to and for Asian Americans. Here was a magazine that, well, was supposed to be for people like me.

In the years that followed, I became an on-again, off-again reader, never subscribing but also never failing to flip through its pages when I spied copies on newsstands. I don’t recall ever being thoroughly impressed by it. To me, at least, the magazine smacked of shallow materialism and appeared too preoccupied with pop culture; I thought it was nothing more than a glossy lifestyle publication stuffed with puff profiles of Asian American celebrities. But I always appreciated its existence and visibility. At the very least, aMagazine put a new Asian American face on newsstands throughout the country six times a year, not an unremarkable accomplishment when major news magazines rarely featured Asian Americans on their covers.

So it was with ambivalence that I greeted the news of the magazine’s demise last year. aMagazine had merged with Click2Asia, a website geared toward young, Internet-savvy Asian Americans flush with cash, and when the site shut down last February, it brought down the magazine as well. aMagazine issued its own public farewell. In a terse but heartfelt statement, the staff thanked its contributors, advertisers, and subscribers. I wasn’t sure whether to feel glee or gloom.

In spite of (or because of) my initial impressions of aMagazine, I spent a few days at the New York Public Library reading back issues. At first these sessions confirmed my suspicions about the publication’s editorial direction. Most of the articles left a saccharine aftertaste, but I came to realize that, as far as Asian Americana goes, aMagazine was the best thing out there.

Not just another pretty face

aMagazine arose out of a Harvard campus publication for Asian Americans in the late 1980s. Editor Jeff Yang would become a central figure at aMagazine as co-founder, editor, and publisher. The magazine’s original aim was to fill a void not addressed by either the mainstream press (which appeared not to care about issues pertaining to Asian Americans) or the various ethnic presses (which did not cater to an English-speaking audience).

In true plucky upstart fashion, the founders set up shop in a Brooklyn basement in 1989. A trail of offices maps its ascent: Chinatown, then Soho, then Midtown. Cheap paper and a crude layout gave way to glossy elegance, then a profusion of colors and graphics. The semiannual became a quarterly, and by early 1995, aMagazine had gone bimonthly. By 1999, it enjoyed a circulation of about 180,000 and advertising sales of around $1.1 million. By any reasonable standard, the publication could be considered a success.

A quick review of the archives shows that aMagazine emulated Vanity Fair‘s formula: reel readers in with a celebrity on the cover, then run news-driven or investigative articles within. aMagazine certainly wasn’t going to sell copies by showcasing Paul Igasaki, the vice chair of the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, or Norman Mineta, the Bush administration’s transportation secretary. (To be fair, it’s not like my mug shot could ever induce anyone to cough up $3.50 either.) So sultry actress Tamlyn Tomita, heartthrob chef Ming Tsai, and tennis standout Michael Chang would have to do the hawking. Of course, whenever the stateside celebrity supply threatened to run out, the overseas reinforcements could always be shipped in: Chinese actress Gong Li or Hong Kong leading man Chow Yun-Fat.

Yang, to his credit, understood the compromise. In 1996, he acknowledged the difficulty of achieving a balance between covering social issues that were important to Asian Americans and wooing advertisers. Furthermore, he recognized the opportunity his magazine had to shine a spotlight on people of political or cultural significance who otherwise may have gone unnoticed by the national press. “There aren’t enough positive, or at least interesting Asian American role models out there,” he told the New York Times. “We want to pull the shroud off of people who have achieved, not just people who have made lots of money but who are lifelong activists or artists.”

To this end, aMagazine brought exposure to such people as emerging playwright Naomi Iizuka, novelist Lois Ann Yamanaka, and politician John C. Liu, the first Asian American elected to the City Council in New York. It also opened its pages to Karen Narasaki, the executive director of the National Asian Pacific American Legal Consortium, and Christine Chen, the eventual director of the Organization of Chinese Americans, who wrote about Congressional legislation mandating an English-only rule in classrooms and the national effort to increase voter participation among Asian Pacific Americans, respectively.

Always a bad sign: an awards show

Still, that precarious balance seemed to shift away from thoughtful articles about politics and culture as the magazine increasingly emphasized lifestyle. In its later years, aMagazine ran articles on food, travel, and health on a regular basis. An advice columnist and horoscopes popped up, and fashion and style dominated the publication more and more. The magazine soon resembled a catalogue; one issue touted cashmere pillows, linen pajamas, and flannel slippers. And nothing could encapsulate aMagazine‘s preoccupation with glamour and celebrity more than the Ammy Awards, an annual gala event started in 2000 to celebrate Asian America’s presence in Hollywood. The awards allowed the magazine’s readers to nominate candidates for such categories as “Best Hollywood Picture” and “Best Performance by an Asian/Asian American Female Actor in a Cinematic Production;” winners were selected by a panel composed of Asian Americans in the entertainment industry.

Yet, amid all this bling-bling and celebrity worship, I found some inspiring, truly insightful journalism. These articles investigated important issues and painted a richer, more engaging portrait of Asian America. One such article was written by Phil Tajitsu Nash, founding executive director of the National Asian Pacific American Legal Consortium. His clear-sighted profile in the February/March 1996 issue of Dinesh D’Souza, the conservative pundit who first gained notoriety with 1987’s Illiberal Education, highlighted the peculiar role of Asian Americans in society. “Being neither black nor white in a society with a bipolar view of race, he personifies the dilemma facing all Asian Americans,” wrote Nash. “They, like South Africa’s infamous ‘colored’ class, must submit to and support a racially unjust status quo as the price of conditional acceptance as ‘model minorities.'”

In addition, writer Terry Hong offered an intriguing exposition of the ideas of Frank Chin, the controversial literary figure and co-editor of Aiiieeeee!: An Anthology of Asian American Writers, in the February/March 1995 issue. Chin claimed that literature written by mainstream Asian American authors such as Maxine Hong Kingston, Amy Tan, and David Henry Hwang are rooted in myth. “These false books are great literary flaws that only work in the Western language, that only appeal to those who believe in the Western stereotype of the Chinese,” Chin told Hong. “It’s white racist text. I mean it .  . . . Their version of Chinese America wants to be white, to think white, to marry whites, and therefore become culturally and racially extinct.” What is so remarkable about Hong’s piece is that it allows Chin to undermine the very sort of figure that aMagazine lived to venerate.

Karl Taro Greenfeld, now editor of Time Asia, wrote an article that also deserves mention. In the August/September 1995 edition, he profiled the emergence of Asian American actresses in the adult video industry. In particular, he examined the lives of porn stars Asia Carrera and Annabel Chong. I was surprised to see that aMagazine didn’t flinch from covering such a salacious topic. (Could you imagine Carrera or Chong sashaying across the red carpet to accept her Ammy Award?) It was a glimpse into the shadows of the Asian American community that presented a more wide-ranging view of Asian American identity.

Another distinguished article, published in February/March 2000, investigated the plight of Wen Ho Lee, the Taiwanese-American nuclear scientist at Los Alamos who was jailed after being accused of passing along state secrets to China. Hindsight reveals that aMagazine‘s piece ran just as Lee’s fortunes began to subtly shift, though few knew it at the time. To bring attention to this civil rights case when it did showed editorial courage and a keen sense of timing.

Out of the ashes?

I couldn’t help but detect the distinct odor of irony when I noticed that both the last issue of aMagazine and the February 18, 2002 issue of Newsweek displayed ice skater Michelle Kwan on their covers. Then I recalled that baseball superstar Ichiro Suzuki had not only recently appeared on the front of aMagazine, but also on several issues of Sports Illustrated. If figures such as Kwan and Ichiro graced the covers of prominent mainstream magazines, did Asian Americans need aMagazine anymore?

After reviewing the history of aMagazine, the answer is yes. Many intriguing political, social, and cultural issues were mined–and still could be. Call me greedy, but it’s not enough just to put Asian American faces on magazine covers. Ask yourself if Newsweek or Time would ever explore controversies in Asian American literature or probe the difficulties associated with possessing an Asian American identity in the political or intellectual arenas? Or just glance at Newsweek‘s puff profile of Kwan last year: “Look for a 21-year-old L.A. babe who’s an A-list celebrity, whose boyfriend is an NHL defenseman and who abruptly canned both her longtime choreographer and her coach last year–in short, a Kwan ready to kick ice.” The piece was thorough, but nary a word about the infamous–infamous, at least, in the Asian American community–headline on MSNBC’s website after the California-born Kwan lost the gold medal to Tara Lipinski at Nagano in 1998: “American beats out Kwan.” Now, I don’t think this issue should have dominated the Newsweek piece, but I would have liked to hear Kwan’s thoughts about it (or see if she would have been willing to talk about it at all). Shedding light on the gaffe could have prevented the same error in the Seattle Times, which ran this secondary headline after Kwan lost at Salt Lake City to Sarah Hughes: “American outshines Kwan.” Whoopsy daisy.

Well, aMagazine might be on its way back. A holding company called GC3 and Associates currently owns Click2Asia and aMagazine, according to Pierre Wuu, associate partner of GC3 and CEO of Click2Asia. GC3 recently relaunched Click2Asia as an online dating site for Asians and is reviewing plans to revive aMagazine.

Unlike its first launch, however, aMagazine will have to take a look in the rearview mirror. Publications such as Yolk, which reads like a dumbed-down version of Maxim, and Giant Robot, which covers Asian pop culture cool, have gained formidable followings. An upstart magazine called Hyphen, based in San Francisco, will release its first issue this March. In contrast to Yolk and Giant Robot, Hyphen will adopt a more generalist approach, mixing serious investigative reporting with light cultural fare. More like aMagazine, in other words.

If aMagazine indeed relaunches, if Hyphen overcomes the inevitable obstacles of starting up, and if Yolk and Giant Robot continue to roll along, the competition will be exciting. The editors of each will all have to keep close tabs on the others. They may also have to vie for the same advertising dollars, and they will certainly be vying for content. The struggle may not be pretty, but collectively, the magazines would cover the Asian American community broadly and allow Asian American writers to make themselves heard on issues long ignored by America’s mainstream media.

Let the battle begin.

STORY INDEX

CONTRIBUTORS >

The writer
William S. Lin, Inthefray.com Contributor

The artist
Marvin Allegro, Inthefray.com Contributor

MARKETPLACE >
A portion of each sale goes to Inthefray.com

Aiiieeeee!: An Anthology of Asian American Writers
Edited by Frank Chin, et al | New American Library | 1974 Amazon.com

Illiberal Education
Dinesh D’Souza | Free Press | 1987 Amazon.com

ORGANIZATIONS >

National Asian American Telecommunications Association
URL: http://www.naatanet.org/
Official website

PEOPLE >

Carerra, Asia
Filmography
URL: http://us.imdb.com/Name?Carrera,+Asia

Chen, Christine
Announcement and profile
URL: http://www.ocanatl.org/news/pr05222001.html
Organization of Chinese Americans

Chong, Annabel
Filmography
URL: http://us.imdb.com/Name?Chong,+Annabel

Chow, Yun-Fat
Filmography
URL: http://us.imdb.com/Name?Chow,+Yun-Fat

Gong, Li
Filmography
URL: http://us.imdb.com/Name?Gong,+Li

Iizuka, Naomi
Profile and catalogue
URL: http://www.newdramatists.org/naomi_iizuka.htm
New Dramatists

Lee, Wen Ho
Official website
URL: http://www.wenholee.org

Liu, John C.
Official website
URL: http://www.liunewyork.com

Naraski, Karen
Profile
URL: http://www.apa.org/ppo/issues/pnarabio.html
National Asian Pacific American Legal Consortium

Yamanaka, Lois Ann
Profile
URL: http://www.infoplease.com/ipa/A0880669.html

PUBLICATIONS >

aMagazine
URL: http://www.aonline.com

Vanity Fair
URL: http://www.vanityfair.com

Yolk
URL: http://www.yolk.com

Giant Robot
URL: http://www.giantrobot.com

Hyphen
URL: http://hyphenmagazine.com

Click2Asia
URL: http://www.click2asia.com

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In The Fray Contributor