The Oscars Diversity Quota

By: Kylie Heider

It’s the end of summer 2018. Jon M. Chu’s adaptation of “Crazy Rich Asians” has just hit theaters, and it’s a massive success. With an all-Asian cast, Asian director, and Asian screenwriter, the film is being heralded as a beacon of diversity in Hollywood. I could understand why. For probably the first time in a mainstream, American blockbuster, I was seeing what I saw in my own family: the strict matriarchies, traditions of honor and respect, Asian grandmothers making life-altering decisions over mahjong, and eating lots (and lots) of food.

While I enjoyed the film, I felt disconnected from the Asianness of “Crazy Rich Asians.” These people were not like me and my family, not really. They were, of course, obscenely wealthy Singaporeans who travelled in elite circles, partying on yachts and private islands. They were Chinese or Korean or Japanese, the kind of Asian person that American audiences picture when they think of an Asian person. Being a Hollywood blockbuster, the film felt conditional, as if the studio executives said “yes, you can tell an Asian story, you can cast Asian people, but make sure the audience knows that they are only treated as equals because they have played the same exploitative, capitalist game as white people and become outrageously rich.” 

Ultimately, “Crazy Rich Asians”, while expanding diversity in Hollywood, failed to truly represent Asia and Asian-America. But even with its faults, I didn’t think “Crazy Rich Asians” was a bad movie, or that because it was focused on wealthy Asian people it shouldn’t have been made.

When the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced their diversity initiative, I was weary, reminded of my experience with the representation of “Crazy Rich Asians.” The plan outlines quotas for filmmakers and studios to fulfill in order to meet the Academy’s standards for Best Picture consideration. The official guidelines state: “At least one of the lead actors or significant supporting actors is from an underrepresented racial or ethnic group” and “at least 30% of all actors in secondary and more minor roles are from at least two of the following underrepresented groups,” including women, LGBTQ+, and people with disabilities. They also include standards for diversity in the crew. This campaign is the Academy’s answer to years cries from the public for a more inclusive awards season.

Of course, the announcement of this initiative did not come without backlash. On one hand, some critics denounced it, saying that the Academy “no longer values ‘merit’” (the claim that if people of color begin winning Best Picture, the Academy has lost its taste for films with ‘merit’ comes off as incredibly coded language, but that’s neither here nor there). Others say that the initiative will only push white women and white-savior films (a la “Green Book”) to the front.

Representation in media is a necessary and integral part of progressing film as an art form. I have yet to see my Filipino ancestry represented in the mainstream. But the Oscars diversity requirements for on-screen representation feel disingenuous, unsustainable, and hypocritical. The Oscars are a place to showcase the most cutting-edge narrative filmmaking that was released in a particular year. Is it not the Academy’s job, rather than the filmmakers themselves, to showcase the diversity of that year’s filmmaking? Last year, for example, Lulu Wang’s “The Farewell” was making waves on the awards circuit, winning Best Picture at the Film Independent Spirit Awards and Best Lead Actress at the Golden Globes. Yet despite being nominated for every other major film award leading up to the Oscars, “The Farewell” was ignored by the Academy, earning zero nominations. Filmmakers from incredibly diverse backgrounds are making films that tell their own stories, stories that are important to see on screen. The Academy is just not nominating them for Oscars. 

For anyone with an identity that falls outside of a generally White, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant, heterosexual, cis-gendered experience, seeing yourself represented accurately in film, television, or any other type of visual media is a rare occurrence. It is vital to see ourselves and be validated by shared experience through art. Not by quotas or numbers, but through the knowledge that our stories are valuable and driven by a passion for speaking our stories for ourselves.