Racism and discrimination against East and Southeast Asians are often not taken seriously, and this has to do for a variety of reasons. As a result, these experiences frequently go unrecognised as racist or discriminatory, even though they clearly are. In the Dutch context, there is little written or published on this subject. In fact, hardly any platforms have been created to present this perspective, leaving it structurally invisible. Downplaying racism and discrimination is seen as normal in Dutch society
One form of this underlying (often unconscious) racism is cultural theft and appropriation. It’s a form of oppression that isn’t always easy to spot. It includes mocking or ridiculing things like religion, lifestyle, food culture, and appearance of other cultures — then stealing those same elements, profiting from them, and trivialising the problem on a large scale.
Let’s start with what the term actually means. In the book Hallo, witte mensen (“Hello, White People”), Anousha Nzume—co-founder of the Dipsaus podcast—defines cultural appropriation as “the careless adoption of a custom, tradition, look, symbol, language, or any other cultural feature belonging to a marginalised group.” Put simply: cultural theft. If you want to learn more about racism, buy the book. It is the essential anti-racism handbook everyone should read.
Cultural theft is also a form of institutional racism. Institutional racism refers to the systematic exclusion, marginalisation, and discrimination of groups based on both written and — more often—unwritten rules such as traditions, behaviours, and social norms. Examples of institutional racism include ethnic profiling by institutions such as the tax office (as seen in the Dutch benefits scandal) and the police.
White people often profit from the cultural traits of marginalised groups, exploiting them for their own gain. These cultural elements become distorted, repackaged, and falsely claimed as original creations—when in fact they are not.
It is about white people pretending to have invented something “new,” while in reality, they’ve taken something from another culture, rebranded it, and used it in ways that disconnect it from its origin.
Cultural elements that hold deep significance in their original contexts are often described by white people as “exotic,” a form of “fashion,” or a “trend.” At the same time, it’s often much easier for white individuals to gain fame or wealth from these elements than it is for people of colour. White people are not burdened by the stereotypes and prejudices that marginalised groups face daily.
A common counterargument used to defend cultural appropriation is that it’s intended as a “compliment” to the culture being borrowed from. The failure to recognize cultural appropriation as a bad thing, or to acknowledge the harm of disrespect and erasure it does, leads to the phenomenon being downplayed.. Stealing and exploiting someone else’s heritage is always disrespectful, always wrong, and contributes directly to structural oppression.
In documentaries, films, and television programmes about non-Western cultures, it’s striking how rarely it is for people with bicultural backgrounds to tell these stories. More often than not, it’s white people at the helm. Take, for example, the VPRO documentary Toki Doki by Paulien Cornelisse, a white Dutch woman who travels to Japan to make a documentary about “the Japanese.”
This is a clear example of orientalism and othering. The documentary is told entirely from a white, Western perspective — a so-called “voyage of discovery” that frames a group of people as strange or peculiar simply because they don’t conform to Western norms. The show opens with an attempt to debunk stereotypes: “Japan is usually portrayed as a cabinet of curiosities. Aren’t the Japanese those people who always act strangely on TV? Or who are extremely formal with each other? But Japan isn’t really like that. Japanese people are sometimes weird, but sometimes startlingly ordinary.”
The stereotypes are first debunked by stating that Japan is not actually like this, but this insight does not shine through in the following excerpts. For example, “Japanese people sometimes act weird, but sometimes they’re appallingly ordinary,” and “I thought that if I understood the language, I would understand ‘the Japanese’ too.” It is dehumanizing to generalize an entire group of people by talking about “the Japanese” as if they are zoo animals “discovered” by white people. It’s as if they’re zoo animals “discovered” by white people. Furthermore, documentaries like this one present themselves as the truth about an entire population, thus framing them in false, negative images.
“It is dehumanizing to generalize an entire group of people by talking about “the Japanese” as if they are zoo animals “discovered” by white people.”
Pakhuis de Zwijger met het programma ‘Wij vs Zij #8: Cultuurkapers’.
Cultural appropriation plays a direct role in silencing marginalised voices. It takes up space that rightfully belongs to the communities being portrayed. Their stories and histories are erased or ignored, and harmful stereotypes created and perpetuated by white people are left unchallenged. This lack of representation also enables the continuation of institutional racism. In many cases, products or services inspired by these cultures are sold at inflated prices, often making them inaccessible to the very communities from which they originate.
Just because something isn’t immediately visible doesn’t mean it isn’t real, or that people haven’t spoken up about it. That’s why it is crucial to listen to people of colour and to truly hear what they are saying when they talk about institutional racism.
Take the example of the salad bar SLA, which in 2020 named one of its salads after the Vietnamese baguette ‘Bánh mì’. The two have nothing to do with each other. Vietnamese street food has become increasingly popular in recent years, and many more people are now familiar with the Vietnamese kitchen. The bar took advantage of the name ‘Bánh mì,’ using Vietnamese culture to help sell their product. In doing so, they used the name and rode the wave of popularity surrounding the culture — even though the two are completely different. Bánh mì is a Vietnamese sandwich, not a salad.
Another example comes from Tessa Yến Nguyễn of the Mai Mai Collective. Albert Heijn sold a ready-made noodle dish labelled ‘Phở,’ even though it bore very little resemblance to the original Vietnamese recipe. They capitalised on the recognisable name without respecting or honouring the dish’s origins. News articles even responded with sarcastic and dismissive headlines, trivialising the issue.
Besides, it has been referred to in the news as the Vietnamese “riot soup.” Once again, the term “riot” is used when people criticize or speak out against it. The soup is still being sold.
It also does not support the Vietnamese community. The dish is being taken away. On top of this, the culture of origin is forgotten. As award-winning cookbook author Nadia Zerouali said in Trouw, “Don’t pretend you came up with it all by yourself.” To learn more about cultural appropriation in culinary culture, check out the second season of the Bonte Was Podcast, which features a detailed discussion with Nadia.
In 2018, cultural theft occurred when a couple finally opened a “healthy and clean Chinese restaurant” in New York. They named it “Lucky Lee’s.” Lee is a common East Asian surname with many variations: Li, Lie, Lai, and Lê, among others. These names are also found in Taiwan, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Myanmar, Tibet, and Mongolia, among other places. Arielle Haspel, the owner of “Lucky Lee’s,” claims the restaurant is named after her husband’s surname, despite the fact that they are both white.
Admittedly, Lee could also be a traditional English surname, but because of the products Lucky Lee’s sells, it’s clear that they were going for an Asian vibe. The name “Lucky Lee’s” is a form of “verbal yellowface”: “I actually have an English name, but I pretend it’s Asian.” This “pretending” is what cultural theft is all about. It refers to using a stereotypical image to attract more customers, sound “exotic,” appear more “authentic,” and make money.
Cultural appropriation can also put culture down as inferior. For example, the stereotype that Asian food makes you feel bloated and gross by being too greasy and salty is perpetuated.
“We hear that you are obsessed with Lo Mein, but you barely eat it. You say it makes you feel bloated and gross the next day. Just wait until you have tried our “High Lo Mein.” It’s not too greasy or salty,” according to a now-deleted Instagram post by Lucky Lee. It seems as if East Asian food cannot be considered delicious if it is made by East Asians.
Structurally, East Asian cuisine is not respected or appreciated in a way that includes it in “haute cuisine.”
A recent example is an article featuring text and excerpts from the series Flikken Maastricht. The quote, “Wolfs is refined cuisine; Eva will do you a greater favor with Chinese food,” emphasizes that “Chinese food” is not considered refined cuisine. The excerpts demonstrate that Chinese-Indian restaurants are only mentioned if the cuisine is adapted to Dutch tastes. There are also excerpts where Eva tastes an oyster and where Wolfs says, “Welcome to the world of refined taste.”
In my experience, Chinese cuisine actually has “refined” eating. Chefs must undergo years of training to acquire the knowledge and skills necessary to cook. Text that refers to “Chinese food” only as Chinese-Indian restaurants perpetuates the stereotype that Chinese cuisine is not refined. Therefore, specifying is very important. Check out these Chinese restaurants recommended by the Asian Raisins community: Some examples are Full Moon City, Wong Kee in The Hague, Golden House in Rijswijk, Tai Wu, and Grand Garden in Rotterdam.
The Amsterdam nightclub Jimmy Woo was created by hospitality entrepreneur Casper Reinders. Rumours have circulated that ‘Woo’ is a wealthy businessman from Hong Kong who, alongside running an opium trade, is also a “great kung fu grandmaster”.
These deliberate rumours were actually invented by Casper himself as part of his marketing strategy. He created a mysterious persona to spark curiosity and make people want to uncover who this man really was. After all, nobody had ever seen or actually spoken to him. Even to this day, the contact email remains: mr.woo@jimmywoo.com.
This perpetuates the stereotypical image that a businessman might be connected to the Chinese mafia and, at the same time, be a kung fu master. A quick Google search led me to the Wikipedia page about Jimmy Woo, where I immediately saw entries such as “Kung Fu Grandmaster Sansoo § Jimmy H. Woo” and below that, “Hong Kong businessman James Wu”. This is almost exactly the same as the ‘mysterious’ character invented by Casper Reinders.
This sense of mystery and ambiguity isn’t new either. East Asians are often portrayed this way in the media. Take for example the popular film Pitch Perfect, featuring actress Hana Mae Lee as the character Lilly Onakuramara. Lilly is depicted as a strange, quirky, and quiet girl. When she speaks, hardly anyone can hear her, and is often made fun of.
‘Happy Happy Joy Joy’ is part of the restaurant group IQ Creative, owned by Bert van der Leden. They capitalise on the culture and cuisine they borrow from, but fail to represent it accurately, treating it disrespectfully — for example, through photoshoots where chopsticks are placed in people’s hair and even stuck in the food.
Chopsticks are meant for eating, not for wearing in your hair. It’s unhygienic and they were never designed for that purpose. There are special ‘hair sticks’ made for that. Also, never stick your chopsticks upright into your food or leave them resting vertically in your bowl or plate. This is disrespectful and inappropriate because it resembles the burning of incense and the ritual of offering food to the deceased.
Additionally, they describe themselves as bringing together all the best ‘Asian’ flavours that are ‘authentic, fresh, surprising, and satisfying,’ highlighting ‘Asian’ as Thailand, Vietnam, Korea, and China. However, Asia is far more than just East and Southeast Asia! Remember, Russia is also part of Asia, as well as India, Afghanistan, and Turkey.
The name of the podcast itself is an example of cultural appropriation. The creator does not have a father who owns a Chinese takeout restaurant. Nor is her father Chinese. There is no logic to it. Why did the creator name the podcast this?
The podcast was named after only the first pilot episode: “My Father Is a Takeaway Chinese Man.” It was made by a production team consisting entirely of white people, with no connection to the marginalized group in question. The name has no meaning other than the subject of the first episode, which is about “the takeaway Chinese man.”
Creator and host Felicia Alberding is as she says herself “a real tatta. The VPRO website writes that personal stories are heard from the other side of the restaurant’s hatch, display case and door. Felicia takes you on her quest for ‘cross-border dishes that connect but also split us within the Dutch border.’
The concept behind this podcast is only cool because the main goal is connection by giving people behind the food a stage to talk about their experiences. Looking at marginalised groups as the “other” and something to explore is disturbing because it is oh so “mysterious” behind that hatch and restaurant door.
Felicia makes a podcast without doing any preliminary research and involving marginalised groups in the production. The podcast is mainly made for a white audience: it shows how “different” the food culture of different cuisines is.
She describes in her second episode of the podcast, “I felt uncomfortable. I was in the middle of making the episode about cultural appropriation and thought: am I not also guilty of appropriating myself by telling this story? People tell their own stories in the podcast, but I’m chatting it all up.”
She has thought about appropriation, but to what extent has she followed through? The podcast is now a little over a year old. What is her take on the production of this podcast now?
In interviews with Felicia, you see how the theme and branding of the podcast contribute to stereotyping. The locations and filmed footage are paired with Oriental ‘sounds.’
In old plays about “the Orient,” certain musical motifs were associated with a particular culture. For example, the instrument ‘oboe’ was linked to Arab culture. So whenever people hear an oboe, they immediately think of Arabs.
Similarly, East Asian cultures were presented in 19th-century plays by so-called Oriental music, which was entirely invented by Europeans. East Asian cultures were accompanied by pentatonic scales and played in octaves instead of harmony. The music pieces were not intended to imitate the East but to represent it, essentially taking away the voice of the “Oriental” people to represent themselves. Likewise, the Oriental sounds and musical motifs in My Dad is a Takeaway Chinese stem from a long history rooted in (Musical) Orientalism.
The Chinese characters shown on screen further emphasise how people of East and Southeast Asian descent are portrayed.
Other examples of cultural appropriation include stereotypes such as the Indian chief, the Japanese geisha, and the Arab sheikh. In these cases, the focus is not on the person, but on the so-called “Halloween costume.” This reduces the original, important cultural meaning to a “costume.” The favored group wears it to “have a good time.” Remember, a culture other than your own is not a costume.
For instance, a bindi is a symbol representing different aspects in Hinduism. Among other things, it represents the third eye, which is associated with wisdom and spirituality. Some “festival-goers” see it as “a nice accessory.” However, it is disrespectful to wear one without researching its origin. So don’t just wear one!
Watch the Pakhuis de Zwijger livestream of the program “Us vs. Them #8: Culture Hijackers,” which explains cultural appropriation at Holi. Remember, Holi is not a house party. Also check out the article: “The Racism of Rituals: How Holi is Whitewashed” and, more recently, “Rituals criticized for racist ‘Oriental’ style.”
Cultural appropriation is evident not only in food and costumes, but also in fashion.
In 2019, reality star Kim Kardashian named her underwear line “Kimono,” disrespecting the traditional Japanese garment of the same name. The meaning and origin of the kimono have been completely lost. Today, kimonos are also used in the fashion industry as a marketing tactic to make garments sound “exotic.” Shops like H&M and Boohoo also call long cardigans or gowns with wide sleeves “kimonos.” This has changed the meaning of “kimono” in the Western fashion world.
The kimono originated from the traditional Chinese hanfu costume that was introduced to Japan, as was much of Japanese culture. Over the years, the clothing changed to become the Japanese kimono we know today.
Don’t call a long vest or gown with wide, long sleeves a ‘kimono’ because it is not a kimono. Doing so perpetuates institutional racism by changing meanings and ‘whitewashing.’
In the Dutch children’s series Koekeloere, in an episode featuring Moffel and Piertje, you can see some qipao hanging around. They respond with: “Oh, you should see all those kimonos,” which is incorrect. After all, they are not kimonos, but qipao or cheongsam. Therefore, spread the right information. See the evolution of Chinese costumes and cheongsams here.
In the same excerpt, ‘fake Chinese’ is spoken with so-called ‘Chinese-sounding tones.’ I will leave that topic for another article.
Cultural appropriation is stealing a characteristic. White people can shrug it off whenever they want. They can brush off prejudices and characteristics the moment they apply for a job, for example. Marginalized groups cannot do this because these characteristics are part of their identity. Consequently, white people minimize oppression through cultural appropriation.
When white people appropriate a characteristic from a marginalised group, they do not face the same prejudice as someone from that marginalised group.
The characteristic is suddenly seen as ‘cool’ and ‘trendy’ when it is stolen and worn by white people, whereas previously it was considered inferior among people from the marginalised culture.
As seen with the likes of Zendaya and Kylie Jenner. In a Vice article, Zoya Patel writes: “When I was growing up, I was regularly bullied for wearing traditional Indian clothes. So seeing another random white woman or celebrity in the same outfit is a slap in my face. They can choose to take off the costume and return to their daily lives whenever they want. I, on the other hand, cannot just let my Indian look disappear.”
The conclusion: Are you only allowed to wear items and make dishes from your own culture? Are you only allowed to write stories and make films about your own culture and perspective?” No, but…
In cultural appreciation, the culture and origin are respected and explored before inspiration is taken. This involves working directly with marginalized groups and budgeting for their contributions and knowledge. These groups are involved from the beginning of the creative process. They are respected, valued, and treated equally, and something is given back
directly to their culture of origin.
This is opposed to stealing and blindly adopting characteristics without researching them, which is cultural appropriation. Here, you give credit to the marginalized groups from which the culture originates. It involves listening to stories and reading about the history behind a culture’s characteristics. It means giving more than taking, rather than just taking and stealing. This is easier said than done because white people do not have to deal with the negative perceptions associated with stolen cultures. They have the privilege of adopting and abandoning it whenever they want, without dealing with the issues from which it stems.
Countless books, podcasts, and articles have been written about it by different cultures. Think and do your research before dressing up or drawing inspiration from a culture. Make space for marginalized groups and express appreciation for their cultures respectfully. Stop stealing their culture and start collaborating with them, offering them a platform, and allocating budget for their knowledge. Give back to the marginalized groups themselves. Buy directly from the people from whom these cultures originate. Take a step back and listen, read, and learn! Only together can we move forward.
Rui Jun Luong (1996), raised in Friesland, has faced discrimination and racism. As a multidisciplinary designer, photographer, videographer, creator of Guess Who: Asian Edition, and founder of Asian Raisins, she works to raise awareness of injustice, racism, and discrimination. Through the creation of this platform, she hopes to prevent others from experiencing what she went through.
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