What Keanu Reeves taught me about white-passing privilege

'Watching anyone Asian, let alone anybody with the same specific heritage as you, always feels deeply personal'
1/44
Megan C. Hills5 September 2020

In the wake of the coronavirus pandemic, which has seen racism against Asian people surge worldwide, as well as a collective reassessment of racial identity following the recent surge of Black Lives Matter protests, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be a mixed race woman. And I’ve been thinking even more about Keanu Reeves, the most decent man in Hollywood.

I’m sure it will come as a surprise to some that Keanu Reeves is a hero to the Asian community. Reeves, like me, is not someone you would immediately assume is part Asian. Our surnames are as Western as it gets, we’re both white-passing and we both struggle with the languages of our respective cultures: Chinese in his case, Tagalog in mine.

There may be millions of Asian people who live in the US or UK, but so few of us make it to the upper echelons of the Western entertainment industry. Watching anyone Asian, let alone anybody with the same specific heritage as you, always feels deeply personal.

Getty Images

Only three Asian actors have won Oscars. Hollywood made space for many of our greatest icons - Anna May Wong, Michelle Yeoh, Bruce Lee - but they initially had to fall into stereotypes; regardless of their talents.

Blockbuster Hollywood star Keanu Reeves, who is Chinese-Hawaiian through his father’s side, is one of our unicorns. The Canadian came up at a time when Asian actors were pigeon-holed as Dragon Ladies and martial artists, only he maneuvered his way out of the boxes set for the community. He was a queer hustler in My Own Private Idaho, an action star in The Matrix, a comedic legend in Bill & Ted, an anti-hero in Constantine.

Keanu Reeves in The Matrix

He was a teen heartthrob and a romantic lead in The Lake House (which was admittedly terrible), long before the Asian community rallied behind the campaign #STARRINGJOHNCHO in 2016. It was a viral movement spearheaded by screenwriter William Yu, reimagining actor John Cho as the lead actor in blockbuster films - fighting against an industry which has only cast Asian actors in 1% of lead Hollywood roles.

Reeves, who Essence claims self-identifies as a person of colour, is in that 1%.

Facebook groups centered around the Asian community such as Subtle Asian Traits proudly declare “ONE OF US” and his Always Be My Maybe co-stars Randall Park and Ali Wong proclaim him “ours” and an “Asian American icon.”

Wong said to the LA Times of casting Reeves in the role: “It was very important to me that it be someone who was Asian-American...I was very aware that Keanu was Asian American because my family and community wouldn’t shut up about it. Maybe other people didn’t know, but I never forgot that.”

As Always Be My Maybe screenwriter Michael Golamco says to the LA Times, “He’s very self-aware and he’s aware of how he’s perceived in our culture.”

Getty Images

However, Reeves insisted to Essence that he is “not a spokesperson” for the community. And I get it.

Like Reeves, I also work in an industry where Asian talent is heavily underrepresented - British journalists are 94% white according to a 2016 City University London study. Everywhere I’ve worked in the UK, I’ve been painfully aware I’m at best one of a handful of journalists with a minority background working for a particular website, magazine or newspaper.

It’s impossible to look at Reeves’ filmography and not see where he has benefited from white-passing privilege. It’s impossible for me to look at my own life and also not see where I have benefited from white-passing privilege. Like Reeves, I have a white-sounding surname to put on my CV and I’ve managed to break into spaces where minorities are heavily underrepresented.

AP

I can’t speak for other mixed race people, but in my case, I know I’ve struggled with a kind of racial anxiety. I constantly worry that in spite of my Filipina mother and over twenty years living in Asia, somebody will tell me I’m not really Asian. I worry that in spite of my British father, my passport and my English education, somebody will tell me I’m not really British.

I worry because these things have already happened to me and it’s invalidating to be told you cannot be either, or you cannot be both. It took me a long time to find the confidence to proudly assert myself as both. When the criticism comes from somebody who is fully Asian or fully British, it still sometimes feels like a door being slammed shut.

However, for those of us who are white-passing, there are other doors that remain open to us.

Reuters

When my mother called me after the increase in targeted attacks on Asian people in the UK, we talked about the safety of my brother - who looks more Asian than I do - knowing that I would be far less likely to receive the same treatment. My personal experiences with racism have for the most part only happened after someone has learned I’m half Filipina and haven’t usually been instigated because of the way I look.

Although we are Asian and feel the same joys, pain and love for our culture as the rest of our community, our experiences are not the same as those who are not white-passing.

Ali Wong and Keanu Reeves
Getty Images

I used to get frustrated that Reeves didn’t talk much about being Asian in Hollywood, and sometimes, I still do. (He’s famously private.) However, over the years and through watching him, I’ve realised that he’s supported the Asian community in other quieter ways - not by taking centre-stage, but by using his influence and privilege to support other Asian talent.

Reeves’ biggest role as Neo in The Matrix series involved working closely with a martial art stunt team led by Hong Konger Yuen Woo-Ping, who he would later praise in interviews for creating “one of the great movie fights in the history of cinema.” (He would also go on to gift the stunt team twelve Harley motorbikes.)

Keanu Reeves in John Wick 3

He was trained for The Matrix by stuntman Tiger Hu Chen, who was the lead in the only film Reeves has ever directed: The Man of Tai Chi. The film featured a cast speaking English, Cantonese and Mandarin for a global audience and he went to mainland China to promote it, speaking so effusively about his respect for gongfu masters that interviewers were surprised and had to shuffle him off the topic.

He made every effort to highlight Ali Wong and Randall Park in Always Be My Maybe as much as possible, stepping back literally and figuratively to keep the focus on his fellow Asian creatives.

Ali Wong added, “Even on the red carpet [at the premiere], he kept on moving to the fringe when we took group shots. It’s Keanu, and everyone’s so excited about him, and everyone else looks like garbage when they’re next to him, so I think he just wanted to be considerate and tried to keep the focus on us.”

Keanu Reeves at the premiere of Always Be My Maybe
Getty Images

In his interview with Essence, he said, “I hope that whatever opportunities I’ve had, or the work that I’m doing, in some way can entertain and can also—I don’t want to say teach—but have something of value come out of it.”

For me, it’s been significant to witness Reeves holding space as an Asian person - but it’s also been so important to see him set an example of how to use white-passing privilege to further raise up the community.

While it was probably a complete coincidence, I keep coming back to the time he played a small part in Asian entertainment history. He was the person who gave Parasite director Bong Joon-ho his very first Oscar in 2019 for Best Screenplay.

It was less than a minute long, but hearing him read Bong Joon-ho’s name on that winner’s card and hug him with the biggest grin on his face meant everything. After, when Joon-ho and the cast of Parasite headed to the mainstage to accept their historical Oscar as the first foreign-language film to win Best Picture, Joon-ho clapped Reeves on the shoulder on his way up and they shared a nod.

I like to imagine Reeves felt the same electric frisson I do whenever someone from our community makes it.

Create a FREE account to continue reading

eros

Registration is a free and easy way to support our journalism.

Join our community where you can: comment on stories; sign up to newsletters; enter competitions and access content on our app.

Your email address

Must be at least 6 characters, include an upper and lower case character and a number

You must be at least 18 years old to create an account

* Required fields

Already have an account? SIGN IN

By clicking Create Account you confirm that your data has been entered correctly and you have read and agree to our Terms of use , Cookie policy and Privacy policy .

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged in