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Fetishized: A Reckoning with Yellow Fever, Feminism, and Beauty
A deeply personal memoir-in-essays, reckoning with being an object of Asian fetish and how media, pop culture, and colonialism contributed to the oversexualization of Asian women—from Kaila Yu, former pinup model and lead singer of Nylon Pink.
No one fetishized Kaila Yu more than she fetishized herself. As a young girl, she dreamt of beauty. But none of the beautiful women on television looked like her. Growing up as a teenager in the late '90s and early 2000s, Asian representation was scarce, and where it existed, the women were often reduced to overtly sexual and submissive caricatures—the geishas of the book-turned-film Memoirs of a Geisha; the lewd twins, Fook Mi and Fook Yu, in Austin Powers films; Papillon Soo Soo’s sex worker character in the cult Vietnam War movie Full Metal Jacket; and pin-up goddess Sung-Hi Lee. Meanwhile, the "girls next door" were always white. Within that narrow framework, Kaila internalized a painful conclusion: The only way someone who looked like her could have value or be considered beautiful and desirable was to sexualize herself.
Blending vulnerable stories from Yu’s life with incisive cultural critique and history, Fetishized is a memoir-in-essays exploring feminism, beauty, yellow fever, and the roles pop culture and colonialism played in shaping pervasive and destructive stereotypes about Asian women and their bodies. Yu revisits the formative moments that shaped her identity. She reflects on the women in media who influenced her, the legacy of U.S. occupation in shaping Western perceptions of Asian women, her own experiences in the pinup and import modeling industry, auditioning for TV and film roles that perpetuated dehumanizing stereotypes, and touring the world with her band in revealing outfits. She recounts altering her body to conform to Western beauty standards, allowing men to treat her like a sex object, and the emotional toll and trauma of losing her sense of self in the pursuit of the image she thought the world wanted.
Raw and intimate, Fetishized is a personal journey of self-love and healing. It’s both a searing indictment of the violence of objectification and a tender exploration of the broken relationship so many of us have with beauty, desire, and our own bodies.
No one fetishized Kaila Yu more than she fetishized herself. As a young girl, she dreamt of beauty. But none of the beautiful women on television looked like her. Growing up as a teenager in the late '90s and early 2000s, Asian representation was scarce, and where it existed, the women were often reduced to overtly sexual and submissive caricatures—the geishas of the book-turned-film Memoirs of a Geisha; the lewd twins, Fook Mi and Fook Yu, in Austin Powers films; Papillon Soo Soo’s sex worker character in the cult Vietnam War movie Full Metal Jacket; and pin-up goddess Sung-Hi Lee. Meanwhile, the "girls next door" were always white. Within that narrow framework, Kaila internalized a painful conclusion: The only way someone who looked like her could have value or be considered beautiful and desirable was to sexualize herself.
Blending vulnerable stories from Yu’s life with incisive cultural critique and history, Fetishized is a memoir-in-essays exploring feminism, beauty, yellow fever, and the roles pop culture and colonialism played in shaping pervasive and destructive stereotypes about Asian women and their bodies. Yu revisits the formative moments that shaped her identity. She reflects on the women in media who influenced her, the legacy of U.S. occupation in shaping Western perceptions of Asian women, her own experiences in the pinup and import modeling industry, auditioning for TV and film roles that perpetuated dehumanizing stereotypes, and touring the world with her band in revealing outfits. She recounts altering her body to conform to Western beauty standards, allowing men to treat her like a sex object, and the emotional toll and trauma of losing her sense of self in the pursuit of the image she thought the world wanted.
Raw and intimate, Fetishized is a personal journey of self-love and healing. It’s both a searing indictment of the violence of objectification and a tender exploration of the broken relationship so many of us have with beauty, desire, and our own bodies.
252 pages, Kindle Edition
Published August 19, 2025
93 people are currently reading
5844 people want to read
About the author
Kaila Yu
2 books46 followersKaila is an author based in Los Angeles. Her debut memoir, ‘Fetishized: A Reckoning with Yellow Fever, Feminism, and Beauty,’ will be published on August 19th, 2025, with Penguin Random House's Crown Publishing.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 111 reviews
December 1, 2025
i have a lot of respect for yu’s vulnerability and honesty in sharing her trauma and reckoning with her own culpability in enabling the oppression of herself and others. she discusses stereotypes of (east) asian women as docile sex objects, perpetuated by dehumanizing media portrayals, and how internalized racism drove her to go to extremes to cater to the white male gaze. i appreciated her explorations of how specific renowned cultural artifacts reified these tropes (ex. Memoirs of a Geisha, Madame Butterfly, The Joy Luck Club). valid points were in fact made.
but the delivery was just so…cringe. it was extremely repetitive and didactic, and her analysis felt painfully superficial. like ✨yellow fever 101✨ for clueless white people. i wish she had simply told her life story (which is undoubtedly very interesting!) without constant interjections to shove her message down the reader’s throat (i.e. ~i got plastic surgery because of internalized racism because i thought i needed to embody eurocentric beauty standards so that white men would find me sexy because i thought sex appeal was my only form of power and the only thing that made me lovable~ over and over and over again). stylistically, the writing felt clunky and juvenile — it was lowkey giving high school persuasive essay.
the premise of her argument often felt very self-absorbed and myopic. she uses “asian women” — homogenizing an entire group — when she’s really referring to east (and sometimes southeast) asian women, thus perpetuating the already-existing hegemonic dominance of east asians in cultural conceptions of “asian people.” at one point, she even remarks that almost all asian women have the same physical features of silky dark hair, pale skin, almond-shaped eyes, and slender frames. uhhh what about south asian women? middle eastern women? (who have also experienced centuries of orientalism and continue to suffer at the hands of western imperialism?) by collapsing the diversity of the asian community, she elides the nuance of how factors like colorism and class affect women differently (ex. southeast asians tend to be of lower socioeconomic status than east asians, which might exacerbate pressure to pursue sex work).
ultimately, she posits no positive, substantive conception of asian womanhood, implicitly defining it only opposition to white men. which, in the end, only continues to center white men.
while this might seem a minor critique in comparison, yu makes some offhand remarks that rubbed be the wrong way, and i think are indicative of her narrow purview. describing a date she went on, she complained that the man suggested they go on a walk, which might have made sense “during the pandemic,” but now it was “over,” so people could meet up “like normal.” this was early 2021?? when hundreds of thousands of people were still getting sick and dying?? like girl it’s embarrassing enough to have even thought the pandemic was over, but then to deliberately announce it in your memoir?? 😭 idk maybe she’s never met a disabled or immunocompromised person or a frontline worker or an old person…
she also cites the rise in anti-asian violence during the pandemic, without mentioning how many within the asian community weaponized this to justify vile anti-blackness — which is nothing new. she invokes the “model minority” myth so many times, and i wish she had taken the opportunity to discuss how asian americans have also profited from it by differentiating themselves from other racialized groups in order to attain greater proximity to white privilege.
and then at one point in the book, she quips to her friend that asian women are “the best” because no other race of women is fetishized. idk if she was joking, but if so, she never clarifies. like huh??? literally every single minoritized group has its fetishists???
at the end of the book, the “solution” she presents is more visibility in media, optimistically citing how the rise of more diverse asian roles in hollywood and in music present more positive role models for asian youth. yes, representation is great and all, but Crazy Rich Asians and BLACKPINK will not dismantle structural patriarchy or white supremacy or capitalist exploitation 😺 i think she arrives at this limited conclusion because of her failure to conceptualize any solidarity with other oppressed groups, which might have allowed her to broaden her understanding of what justice could look like.
i do not enjoy being a hater i’m sorryyy 😭 i think i just might be extra critical because as an east asian woman myself, the letdown was extra oof 🥲
—
[additional edit because i can’t stop thinking about this]
i also feel like she SEVERELY downplayed the atrocity of her repeated intentional coercion of her 17-year-old (minor!!!) bandmate into presenting herself in a sexualized way, with full awareness that perverted old white men would eat that shit up. in fact, she became JEALOUS of the unwanted attention her (minor!!!) bandmate received from said perverted old white men — that yu herself orchestrated — and took it out on her bandmate. she never really takes adequate accountability for this heinous behavior. just admitting what happened is not taking accountability. she’s kinda just like “oh i guess might’ve traumatized her because she told me years later that i traumatized her lol oops.”forcing a CHILD to suffer the same racist misogyny that ostensibly traumatized you, in order to increase your band’s clout??? kinda evil tbh…
overall, yu’s retrospective reflection as the narrator of her memoir demonstrates very little growth / maturity imo. the egregious lack of self-awareness remains consistent throughout. this is made even more ironic by her claim in the book’s introduction that her experiences endowed her with “a version of enlightenment” 🤨
but the delivery was just so…cringe. it was extremely repetitive and didactic, and her analysis felt painfully superficial. like ✨yellow fever 101✨ for clueless white people. i wish she had simply told her life story (which is undoubtedly very interesting!) without constant interjections to shove her message down the reader’s throat (i.e. ~i got plastic surgery because of internalized racism because i thought i needed to embody eurocentric beauty standards so that white men would find me sexy because i thought sex appeal was my only form of power and the only thing that made me lovable~ over and over and over again). stylistically, the writing felt clunky and juvenile — it was lowkey giving high school persuasive essay.
the premise of her argument often felt very self-absorbed and myopic. she uses “asian women” — homogenizing an entire group — when she’s really referring to east (and sometimes southeast) asian women, thus perpetuating the already-existing hegemonic dominance of east asians in cultural conceptions of “asian people.” at one point, she even remarks that almost all asian women have the same physical features of silky dark hair, pale skin, almond-shaped eyes, and slender frames. uhhh what about south asian women? middle eastern women? (who have also experienced centuries of orientalism and continue to suffer at the hands of western imperialism?) by collapsing the diversity of the asian community, she elides the nuance of how factors like colorism and class affect women differently (ex. southeast asians tend to be of lower socioeconomic status than east asians, which might exacerbate pressure to pursue sex work).
ultimately, she posits no positive, substantive conception of asian womanhood, implicitly defining it only opposition to white men. which, in the end, only continues to center white men.
while this might seem a minor critique in comparison, yu makes some offhand remarks that rubbed be the wrong way, and i think are indicative of her narrow purview. describing a date she went on, she complained that the man suggested they go on a walk, which might have made sense “during the pandemic,” but now it was “over,” so people could meet up “like normal.” this was early 2021?? when hundreds of thousands of people were still getting sick and dying?? like girl it’s embarrassing enough to have even thought the pandemic was over, but then to deliberately announce it in your memoir?? 😭 idk maybe she’s never met a disabled or immunocompromised person or a frontline worker or an old person…
she also cites the rise in anti-asian violence during the pandemic, without mentioning how many within the asian community weaponized this to justify vile anti-blackness — which is nothing new. she invokes the “model minority” myth so many times, and i wish she had taken the opportunity to discuss how asian americans have also profited from it by differentiating themselves from other racialized groups in order to attain greater proximity to white privilege.
and then at one point in the book, she quips to her friend that asian women are “the best” because no other race of women is fetishized. idk if she was joking, but if so, she never clarifies. like huh??? literally every single minoritized group has its fetishists???
at the end of the book, the “solution” she presents is more visibility in media, optimistically citing how the rise of more diverse asian roles in hollywood and in music present more positive role models for asian youth. yes, representation is great and all, but Crazy Rich Asians and BLACKPINK will not dismantle structural patriarchy or white supremacy or capitalist exploitation 😺 i think she arrives at this limited conclusion because of her failure to conceptualize any solidarity with other oppressed groups, which might have allowed her to broaden her understanding of what justice could look like.
i do not enjoy being a hater i’m sorryyy 😭 i think i just might be extra critical because as an east asian woman myself, the letdown was extra oof 🥲
—
[additional edit because i can’t stop thinking about this]
i also feel like she SEVERELY downplayed the atrocity of her repeated intentional coercion of her 17-year-old (minor!!!) bandmate into presenting herself in a sexualized way, with full awareness that perverted old white men would eat that shit up. in fact, she became JEALOUS of the unwanted attention her (minor!!!) bandmate received from said perverted old white men — that yu herself orchestrated — and took it out on her bandmate. she never really takes adequate accountability for this heinous behavior. just admitting what happened is not taking accountability. she’s kinda just like “oh i guess might’ve traumatized her because she told me years later that i traumatized her lol oops.”forcing a CHILD to suffer the same racist misogyny that ostensibly traumatized you, in order to increase your band’s clout??? kinda evil tbh…
overall, yu’s retrospective reflection as the narrator of her memoir demonstrates very little growth / maturity imo. the egregious lack of self-awareness remains consistent throughout. this is made even more ironic by her claim in the book’s introduction that her experiences endowed her with “a version of enlightenment” 🤨
September 13, 2025
Whew. A lot of mixed feelings here.
On one hand, there were some parts of this memoir that felt familiar: that moment when you realize Memoirs of a Geisha is a pretty weird book (a book where a white American dude writes a novel in first person, from the perspective of a young Japanese woman, focused on a wildly inappropriate age-gap relationship and selling the narrator's virginity) to be held up as any sort of cultural study of Japanese culture. That feeling of erasure, or existence only in niches, of Asian Americans in pop culture in the 90s and 2000s. That simultaneous feeling of discomfort and fascination with "yellow fever" as a concept / antipattern / very real observed phenomenon in the people around you.
... And yet. I cringed through so much of this book, as the author basically recounts her life playing into the exact sort of Asian stereotypes that she eventually (as recently as 2021, apparently!) realizes have been harming her all along.
It’s painful to hear her describe—again and again—how much of her self-worth depended on the availability (or lack) of the male gaze as she pursued a modeling, acting, and singing career; how she often viewed other attractive Asian women as rivals rather than peers or collaborators; and how easily she pressured her bandmates into the very docile, hypersexualized stereotypes she later claims to resent—because it seemed like the only path to get her and her band the attention she craved.
I'm tempted to chalk it up to Gen X Asian American culture vs millennials, or SoCal vs NorCal Asians, but I... think that I should probably hold off on trying to attribute it to any one thing. Just, oof. I'm glad the author ended up in a good place.
On one hand, there were some parts of this memoir that felt familiar: that moment when you realize Memoirs of a Geisha is a pretty weird book (a book where a white American dude writes a novel in first person, from the perspective of a young Japanese woman, focused on a wildly inappropriate age-gap relationship and selling the narrator's virginity) to be held up as any sort of cultural study of Japanese culture. That feeling of erasure, or existence only in niches, of Asian Americans in pop culture in the 90s and 2000s. That simultaneous feeling of discomfort and fascination with "yellow fever" as a concept / antipattern / very real observed phenomenon in the people around you.
... And yet. I cringed through so much of this book, as the author basically recounts her life playing into the exact sort of Asian stereotypes that she eventually (as recently as 2021, apparently!) realizes have been harming her all along.
It’s painful to hear her describe—again and again—how much of her self-worth depended on the availability (or lack) of the male gaze as she pursued a modeling, acting, and singing career; how she often viewed other attractive Asian women as rivals rather than peers or collaborators; and how easily she pressured her bandmates into the very docile, hypersexualized stereotypes she later claims to resent—because it seemed like the only path to get her and her band the attention she craved.
I'm tempted to chalk it up to Gen X Asian American culture vs millennials, or SoCal vs NorCal Asians, but I... think that I should probably hold off on trying to attribute it to any one thing. Just, oof. I'm glad the author ended up in a good place.
January 8, 2026
This is a memoir-in-essays about the author’s experience of being fetishized as an Asian-American woman. An especially interesting element is her previous career as a pinup model, where photoshoots often had her leaning into stereotypical portrayals of Asian femininity, exoticism, and hypersexuality. In my favourite essay of the collection, she reflects on the ways this part of her past may have adversely affected other women. She’s unafraid to critique her own actions while also acknowledging the larger cultural forces at play, and the ways in which she was used by those with more power in the industry. She also sharply examines the way pieces of pop culture stereotype Asian women, especially the ones she was exposed to while coming of age in the 1990s.
This is an important read that shows how BIPOC women are harmed by the patriarchy, even (and sometimes especially) when it approves of their appearance.
This is an important read that shows how BIPOC women are harmed by the patriarchy, even (and sometimes especially) when it approves of their appearance.
2025
October 3, 2025Memoir March TBR
📱 Thank you to NetGalley and Crown
📱 Thank you to NetGalley and Crown
October 27, 2025
I am wary of books that talk about the fetishization of Asian women in white/Western/American society. I want to read them, but often find them cringe, incomplete, and/or lacking in nuance. And while FETISHIZED isn’t perfect, I can still recommend it. It is an emotional, easy-to-read memoir in essays that discusses lots of interesting cultural touchpoints that those of us familiar with and/or interested in Asian American female identity/status can relate to.
First, check trigger warnings for racism, sexism, and in particular se*ual a**ault and r*pe. What Yu experiences is heartbreaking, and heartbreakingly relatable for many of us. I appreciate and respect Yu for being so open and vulnerable with her experiences, both the positive and the negative ones. Yu doesn’t attempt to portray herself as the perfect hero figure. She has had to deal with her own internalized racism her whole life, and the ways in which she’s been her own worst enemy, as well as others’. It is clear that she owns her mistakes, and is still undergoing the process of unlearning harmful internalized messages and the ways in which she herself has perpetuated racism and fetishization upon herself and the women in her care.
I found a great many of the essays in FETISHIZED well-written and thought-provoking. I especially appreciated the essays on the role that books like Memoirs of a Geisha and The Joy Luck Club played growing up. I, too, remembered the anticipation I had before picking up Memoirs of a Geisha (oh my god, a book about and featuring Asian women!), the feeling of being let down by it while reading, and the realization, many years later, of why that book (still) sucks: a white male author writes from the perspective of a Japanese woman, and its basically harmful stereotypes and messages about Asian women’s desirability and worth only in the eyes of white/foreign men.
For me, the book’s main weakness is that Yu is still (un)learning what she doesn’t (yet) know, and at times isn’t aware of her blind spots. This showed up for me in two main ways. The first is that she is still centering East Asian-ness in her narratives and analyses. She states that the Vietnam War was the last time that American/Western powers meddled in Asian countries’ political affairs, which erases the fact that the US has, since then, repeatedly and continually invaded (non-East) Asian countries like Iraq, Afghanistan, etc. The second is that some of the statements she makes cast judgment that is only based on her own opinion, which she then extrapolates as fact. For instance, she describes Nicholas Cage’s habit of dating Asian women and states that based on her observations she believes he has yellow fever; however, she doesn’t back up her claim with whether or not other writers/researchers have observed the same about Cage and drawn the same conclusions.
Despite the above, I still found FETISHIZED to be an emotionally engaging read that is a great addition to the overall conversation about Asian American identity and fetishization.
First, check trigger warnings for racism, sexism, and in particular se*ual a**ault and r*pe. What Yu experiences is heartbreaking, and heartbreakingly relatable for many of us. I appreciate and respect Yu for being so open and vulnerable with her experiences, both the positive and the negative ones. Yu doesn’t attempt to portray herself as the perfect hero figure. She has had to deal with her own internalized racism her whole life, and the ways in which she’s been her own worst enemy, as well as others’. It is clear that she owns her mistakes, and is still undergoing the process of unlearning harmful internalized messages and the ways in which she herself has perpetuated racism and fetishization upon herself and the women in her care.
I found a great many of the essays in FETISHIZED well-written and thought-provoking. I especially appreciated the essays on the role that books like Memoirs of a Geisha and The Joy Luck Club played growing up. I, too, remembered the anticipation I had before picking up Memoirs of a Geisha (oh my god, a book about and featuring Asian women!), the feeling of being let down by it while reading, and the realization, many years later, of why that book (still) sucks: a white male author writes from the perspective of a Japanese woman, and its basically harmful stereotypes and messages about Asian women’s desirability and worth only in the eyes of white/foreign men.
For me, the book’s main weakness is that Yu is still (un)learning what she doesn’t (yet) know, and at times isn’t aware of her blind spots. This showed up for me in two main ways. The first is that she is still centering East Asian-ness in her narratives and analyses. She states that the Vietnam War was the last time that American/Western powers meddled in Asian countries’ political affairs, which erases the fact that the US has, since then, repeatedly and continually invaded (non-East) Asian countries like Iraq, Afghanistan, etc. The second is that some of the statements she makes cast judgment that is only based on her own opinion, which she then extrapolates as fact. For instance, she describes Nicholas Cage’s habit of dating Asian women and states that based on her observations she believes he has yellow fever; however, she doesn’t back up her claim with whether or not other writers/researchers have observed the same about Cage and drawn the same conclusions.
Despite the above, I still found FETISHIZED to be an emotionally engaging read that is a great addition to the overall conversation about Asian American identity and fetishization.
October 22, 2025
I received a copy of this book for free from the author for promotional purposes.
Wow! What a powerful memoir!
As an Asian American female, I was super intrigued by the premise of this memoir. It did not disappoint!
The memoir is told through a series of essays, which worked so well. Each essay was well crafted and blended personal experience with research. It dove deep into how Asian women have been fetishized throughout history and the media, and how the author internalized it leading her down a dark path. The memoir discusses a wide range of topics from geishas to ABGs to import models.
What made this memoir so successful was that the author was incredibly self aware. She was able to take accountability for her actions and saw how it negatively impacted not only her life, but other people’s lives (like her bandmates). It was evident she has grown a lot through her life and is striving to do and be better.
The author’s writing style is also commendable. The book was so well written and very descriptive. The author is an extremely talented essay writer. The essays were so effortless to read. Each one had a point and it was never a struggle to get to it. Instead, she guides you through her reasonings and experiences.
Overall, this was a short yet compelling memoir! I highly recommend it if you like memoirs that also draw upon research.
Wow! What a powerful memoir!
As an Asian American female, I was super intrigued by the premise of this memoir. It did not disappoint!
The memoir is told through a series of essays, which worked so well. Each essay was well crafted and blended personal experience with research. It dove deep into how Asian women have been fetishized throughout history and the media, and how the author internalized it leading her down a dark path. The memoir discusses a wide range of topics from geishas to ABGs to import models.
What made this memoir so successful was that the author was incredibly self aware. She was able to take accountability for her actions and saw how it negatively impacted not only her life, but other people’s lives (like her bandmates). It was evident she has grown a lot through her life and is striving to do and be better.
The author’s writing style is also commendable. The book was so well written and very descriptive. The author is an extremely talented essay writer. The essays were so effortless to read. Each one had a point and it was never a struggle to get to it. Instead, she guides you through her reasonings and experiences.
Overall, this was a short yet compelling memoir! I highly recommend it if you like memoirs that also draw upon research.
August 18, 2025
Kaila Yu writes an engaging memoir about her experiences navigating Hollywood, the beauty industry, and being a woman. She exudes fortitude when striving toward her goals. Written in a format that highlights a different challenge she faces in chapters. My eyes were opened to the blatant and covertly disguised racism that many Asian women encounter in an endless cycle.
The emotion is honest and searingly raw at the disgusting way older white men objectify and demean Asian women. She specifically pointed out older white men in her experience, but I'm sure it's not limited to that demographic. I loved her tenacity and drive to forge ahead in a number of areas.
Overcoming addiction, stereotypes and finding her footing is an accomplishment we can all admire and writing a book to educate on this type of fetishism. I look forward to her next endeavor.
Thanks to NetGalley and Crown for an early copy.
The emotion is honest and searingly raw at the disgusting way older white men objectify and demean Asian women. She specifically pointed out older white men in her experience, but I'm sure it's not limited to that demographic. I loved her tenacity and drive to forge ahead in a number of areas.
Overcoming addiction, stereotypes and finding her footing is an accomplishment we can all admire and writing a book to educate on this type of fetishism. I look forward to her next endeavor.
Thanks to NetGalley and Crown for an early copy.
June 24, 2025
This was so raw, intimate and honest. I feel for young Kaila and all her insecurities and misguided goals to try and build her confidence. This is such an eye opener on how the western gaze sexualizes and dehumanizes Asian women. And, it's even grosser then you think.
I wish there was more depth as to how and why the author realized how she was a victim of Asian fetish and what made her get treatment for her many addictions. Regardless, I hope she continues therapy and finds peace within herself.
I wish there was more depth as to how and why the author realized how she was a victim of Asian fetish and what made her get treatment for her many addictions. Regardless, I hope she continues therapy and finds peace within herself.
January 7, 2026
I suspect this memoir won't be as affecting for someone who didn't grow up in a similar time period/social environment as Kaila Yu as an Asian femme, but it was vindicating for someone to gather, untangle, and voice the threads and knots of racism and sexism, and the way that they manifest as fetishism that can truly cause harm. In a country that can't even grapple with Black-white binary racism, which also has intentional amnesia/ignorance about its colonial operations globally, many of which took place in Asia, many of us probably struggled to synthesize and verbalize thoughts and feelings about race-based hypersexualization and harassment that were shockingly commonplace. We have all probably experienced erasure and gaslighting, because the fetishization of Asian women is so commonplace that people think it's normal, like the many people who get offended if I get offended when they try to use the word "exotic" as a compliment.
I found it interesting to hear Yu's essays about her experiences with the scant Asian American representation there was during her childhood and early career. So many of the conflicted feelings were familiar, of feeling some sort of positive emotion, but usually mixed with disappontment and an ick factor due to the reduction of Asian female characters to tropes, often hypersexualized ones, worsened by a greater society that lauds the depictions (eg Memoirs of a Geisha), takes them for granted as normal/accurate (Marco Polo), or appropriates them for white profit (Fast and the Furious, Gwen Stefani).
I found it interesting to hear Yu's essays about her experiences with the scant Asian American representation there was during her childhood and early career. So many of the conflicted feelings were familiar, of feeling some sort of positive emotion, but usually mixed with disappontment and an ick factor due to the reduction of Asian female characters to tropes, often hypersexualized ones, worsened by a greater society that lauds the depictions (eg Memoirs of a Geisha), takes them for granted as normal/accurate (Marco Polo), or appropriates them for white profit (Fast and the Furious, Gwen Stefani).
August 13, 2025
➳ 5 ★
I could not put this memoir down. I was locked in and honestly wish I could read more. As a female who identifies with my Asian side, this was such a refreshing and heartbreaking look into the reality of what Kaila and many other Asian females face (past and present) in order to make themselves seen. The discussion of yellow fever and the fetish with Asian women was raw and too real. Her call outs to musicians and other artists/producers in the industry guilty of fetishizing Asian women is eye-opening and wildly disturbing.
I really enjoyed the history that was discussed throughout her memoir in relation to her own experiences; it made me sit, digest, and discuss the implications of it all and how my family, and myself, have been treated similarly simply due to our appearance/ethnicity.
I will definitely be buying this memoir for my bookshelf and suggesting this read for friends & family!
Thank you so much to Kaila Yu & NetGalley for this ARC!
I could not put this memoir down. I was locked in and honestly wish I could read more. As a female who identifies with my Asian side, this was such a refreshing and heartbreaking look into the reality of what Kaila and many other Asian females face (past and present) in order to make themselves seen. The discussion of yellow fever and the fetish with Asian women was raw and too real. Her call outs to musicians and other artists/producers in the industry guilty of fetishizing Asian women is eye-opening and wildly disturbing.
I really enjoyed the history that was discussed throughout her memoir in relation to her own experiences; it made me sit, digest, and discuss the implications of it all and how my family, and myself, have been treated similarly simply due to our appearance/ethnicity.
I will definitely be buying this memoir for my bookshelf and suggesting this read for friends & family!
Thank you so much to Kaila Yu & NetGalley for this ARC!
August 10, 2025
Fetishized by Kaila Yu. Thanks to @crownbooks for the gifted copy ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Kaila Yu did what she had to do to fit in with Asian representative in American culture in the late 90’s/early aughts. She internalized what she saw around her and made a career of it. Now she’s looking back and telling her story.
This was an amazing memoir that was entertaining but also really truly made me think. I learned a lot from it. A lot of Kaila’s experience takes place during the early aughts, and we know it was a difficult and misogynistic time for women. This shed light on the extreme stereotypes not just for women, but Asian women, especially in celebrity culture and the media. Kaila is one smart cookie and I’m glad she got to write this story and put it out there.
“We’re not celebrated for our strength, humanity, and intelligence. We’re reduced to a fantasy fitting a male-dominance narrative.
Fetishized comes out 8/19.
Kaila Yu did what she had to do to fit in with Asian representative in American culture in the late 90’s/early aughts. She internalized what she saw around her and made a career of it. Now she’s looking back and telling her story.
This was an amazing memoir that was entertaining but also really truly made me think. I learned a lot from it. A lot of Kaila’s experience takes place during the early aughts, and we know it was a difficult and misogynistic time for women. This shed light on the extreme stereotypes not just for women, but Asian women, especially in celebrity culture and the media. Kaila is one smart cookie and I’m glad she got to write this story and put it out there.
“We’re not celebrated for our strength, humanity, and intelligence. We’re reduced to a fantasy fitting a male-dominance narrative.
Fetishized comes out 8/19.
August 27, 2025
Fetishized is a raw, intimate, and honest memoir. I had never heard of Kaila Yu prior to reading this, but I am old enough to remember import models being a "thing" with how popular the Fast and the Furious franchise was in the early 00s. Kaila is a great writer- she reflects on her life as an Asian American woman through brutal introspection. As a millennial who grew up in the 90s/00s, I can remember how awful media was to women, and I think we are still trying to unlearn how we should view our bodies and each other. Remember the infamous quote "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels?"
What makes her memoir especially compelling is that she doesn’t position herself as a passive victim of fetishization. She admits how deeply she internalized these external narratives, and at times perpetuated them. She even goes so far to call herself a "hollowed piñata" from the plastic surgery she had done to meet these narratives. Kaila supports her lived experience with footnotes and cited sources, grounding her story in wider systemic realities without losing the personal connection.
I think this would be great for a book club or college course :)
What makes her memoir especially compelling is that she doesn’t position herself as a passive victim of fetishization. She admits how deeply she internalized these external narratives, and at times perpetuated them. She even goes so far to call herself a "hollowed piñata" from the plastic surgery she had done to meet these narratives. Kaila supports her lived experience with footnotes and cited sources, grounding her story in wider systemic realities without losing the personal connection.
I think this would be great for a book club or college course :)
July 22, 2025
Thank you to NetGalley and Crown Publishing for my arc in exchange for my unbiased opinion.
As a fellow Asian American girly that thought the way to be taken seriously was to play into fetishizing myself, this collection of personal essays really struck a chord in me. Kaila Yu does a wonderfully poignant job of hitting at the exact things that I feel are universal for the Asian American girlhood experience. I appreciated how brutal Yu was in her introspection and observations of growing up and living in America as an AA woman. I can see others finding this a difficult read and even maybe finding issue with some of the depictions in this, but I found it incredibly relatable and again, it felt universal to what I had experienced.
I loved this and would recommend it to others.
As a fellow Asian American girly that thought the way to be taken seriously was to play into fetishizing myself, this collection of personal essays really struck a chord in me. Kaila Yu does a wonderfully poignant job of hitting at the exact things that I feel are universal for the Asian American girlhood experience. I appreciated how brutal Yu was in her introspection and observations of growing up and living in America as an AA woman. I can see others finding this a difficult read and even maybe finding issue with some of the depictions in this, but I found it incredibly relatable and again, it felt universal to what I had experienced.
I loved this and would recommend it to others.
December 31, 2025
Library Book/Book Overall: 3.75/5
Audiobook/Narration: 3.5/5
Overall Enjoyment: 4/5
I told myself that going into the new year, I wanted to share more nonfiction reviews. I read a lot of nonfiction, but I don’t always talk about it. So this feels like the perfect place to start.
Fetishized is definitely a book that may rub some readers the wrong way, but I believe it’s absolutely worth reading. Much of the discomfort comes not from shock value, but from how deeply honest and vulnerable the author is about her experiences, trauma, and ongoing process of unlearning.
Unlike many memoirs that follow a familiar arc—early trauma, gradual growth, and a neatly resolved ending—this book doesn’t offer that kind of closure. We’re not given a polished summary of the author’s life. Instead, we’re invited into the messy, unresolved, and very real middle of her journey. The book ends in a way that mirrors how it begins, and for me, that made it feel even more authentic. This book was a powerful reminder that growth isn’t linear. It’s not always upward or inspiring. Sometimes growth looks like falling back, repeating patterns, or sitting in discomfort longer than you’d like. Yu captures that reality beautifully.
A major focus of the book is how she has both been impacted by—and at times participated in—upholding the fetishization of Asian women. She explores how she learned to sexualize herself before others could, and how media, pop culture, and history have played a deliberate role in shaping not only how Asian women are perceived, but how they learn to see themselves.
The book does an excellent job weaving historical context and pop culture analysis into each essay without ever feeling too academic. It remains conversational, approachable, and deeply personal. Some readers may want something more polished or detached, but I appreciated the messiness and vulnerability Yu brings to the page. What stood out most to me was how clearly the book shows that the author is still in the early stages of dismantling these internalized beliefs. She reflects on how stereotypes followed her through different career paths, where she was often expected, or pressured, to conform to Western ideals of beauty and sexuality in order to succeed.
While I understand this book won’t be for everyone, I deeply appreciated it. It made me reflect on the media I consumed growing up and how people who look like me were portrayed. As a Black woman, it pushed me to think about the toxic archetypes that have been ingrained in Black culture, and whether I’ve challenged or unconsciously upheld them.
There were moments where I felt uncomfortable or even cringed—not just because of what the author experienced, including sexual assault and substance abuse, but also because she doesn’t shy away from acknowledging how her own actions affected others. That level of accountability made the book even more impactful.
Ultimately, Fetishized serves as a reminder that we all have deeper work to do. The messages we absorb as children—from TV, movies, music, and social media—shape how we see ourselves and others long before we realize it. Part of growing up is revisiting those influences, questioning them, and understanding how they continue to affect us today.
This book encouraged me to do exactly that, and for that reason alone, I’m grateful I read it.
Audiobook/Narration: 3.5/5
Overall Enjoyment: 4/5
I told myself that going into the new year, I wanted to share more nonfiction reviews. I read a lot of nonfiction, but I don’t always talk about it. So this feels like the perfect place to start.
Fetishized is definitely a book that may rub some readers the wrong way, but I believe it’s absolutely worth reading. Much of the discomfort comes not from shock value, but from how deeply honest and vulnerable the author is about her experiences, trauma, and ongoing process of unlearning.
Unlike many memoirs that follow a familiar arc—early trauma, gradual growth, and a neatly resolved ending—this book doesn’t offer that kind of closure. We’re not given a polished summary of the author’s life. Instead, we’re invited into the messy, unresolved, and very real middle of her journey. The book ends in a way that mirrors how it begins, and for me, that made it feel even more authentic. This book was a powerful reminder that growth isn’t linear. It’s not always upward or inspiring. Sometimes growth looks like falling back, repeating patterns, or sitting in discomfort longer than you’d like. Yu captures that reality beautifully.
A major focus of the book is how she has both been impacted by—and at times participated in—upholding the fetishization of Asian women. She explores how she learned to sexualize herself before others could, and how media, pop culture, and history have played a deliberate role in shaping not only how Asian women are perceived, but how they learn to see themselves.
The book does an excellent job weaving historical context and pop culture analysis into each essay without ever feeling too academic. It remains conversational, approachable, and deeply personal. Some readers may want something more polished or detached, but I appreciated the messiness and vulnerability Yu brings to the page. What stood out most to me was how clearly the book shows that the author is still in the early stages of dismantling these internalized beliefs. She reflects on how stereotypes followed her through different career paths, where she was often expected, or pressured, to conform to Western ideals of beauty and sexuality in order to succeed.
While I understand this book won’t be for everyone, I deeply appreciated it. It made me reflect on the media I consumed growing up and how people who look like me were portrayed. As a Black woman, it pushed me to think about the toxic archetypes that have been ingrained in Black culture, and whether I’ve challenged or unconsciously upheld them.
There were moments where I felt uncomfortable or even cringed—not just because of what the author experienced, including sexual assault and substance abuse, but also because she doesn’t shy away from acknowledging how her own actions affected others. That level of accountability made the book even more impactful.
Ultimately, Fetishized serves as a reminder that we all have deeper work to do. The messages we absorb as children—from TV, movies, music, and social media—shape how we see ourselves and others long before we realize it. Part of growing up is revisiting those influences, questioning them, and understanding how they continue to affect us today.
This book encouraged me to do exactly that, and for that reason alone, I’m grateful I read it.
January 3, 2026
I was not familiar with the authors modeling or Nylon Pink before I read this but the content really interested me as a Chinese American woman. It was a little haunting to realize how universal experiences of racism and fetishization are and to re-examine some of my own experiences as a child and young adult with a new perspective. I find it hard to rate or review what is someone else’s life and their personal story but I really enjoyed this and thought it was written beautifully.
August 27, 2025
If you take this book as something written from her, personal POV, and not education material, then it’s a solid book. However, if you’re reading to learn more about Asian fetishization from a purely scholarly, removed POV, not quite.
She takes pains at the beginning to explain the difference between preference and fetish, but then accuses many people of a fetish. She also accuses most sexualized Asian females of leaning into the fetish, instead of being able to embrace their own sexuality separate from that. She has a sentence on this at the end, but the entire book is countering that one point.
She does own up to her mistakes at times, but we maybe could’ve spent a bit more time on some of the real harms that occurred to individual people.
Lastly, she has a chapter on her father, but while her mother is mentioned throughout, basically avoids talking directly about her relationship with her mother the entire book. Seems like there’s more to unpack there that we completely left out.
I feel absolutely awful about the trauma this woman had to endure, and how that affected everything afterward in her life. And, those things do tinge everything in the book, which is understandable for a memoir. However, I went in thinking it would be more education, less memoir, so it wasn’t quite what I was expecting.
She takes pains at the beginning to explain the difference between preference and fetish, but then accuses many people of a fetish. She also accuses most sexualized Asian females of leaning into the fetish, instead of being able to embrace their own sexuality separate from that. She has a sentence on this at the end, but the entire book is countering that one point.
She does own up to her mistakes at times, but we maybe could’ve spent a bit more time on some of the real harms that occurred to individual people.
Lastly, she has a chapter on her father, but while her mother is mentioned throughout, basically avoids talking directly about her relationship with her mother the entire book. Seems like there’s more to unpack there that we completely left out.
I feel absolutely awful about the trauma this woman had to endure, and how that affected everything afterward in her life. And, those things do tinge everything in the book, which is understandable for a memoir. However, I went in thinking it would be more education, less memoir, so it wasn’t quite what I was expecting.
December 9, 2025
I have to be honest when I was growing up I believed boys thought I was ugly because I was Asian. That all changed when I went to college and lived in NYC. NYC is actually where I first heard about the Asian festish. I have to admit I found it extremely weird and definitely creepy. Trust me when I say I NEVER dated a guy who had one😂
Kaila Yu, former model, actress, singer, and now a travel journalist, goes into depth about her own experiences with "yellow fever" in this memoir through essays. She opens up about growing up Asian, her trials and tribulations breaking into the modeling world, and how she could be "seen." She talks about how Asian women were perceived and sexualized in the entertainment industry. It's raw, intimate, thought-provoking, and extremely eye-opening.
I actually learned quite a bit reading this memoir. I have always lived in my own little bubble, so a lot of the topics the author covered were new to me. And yes, I am a "cargirl" and always have been, but was never in the tuner scene. My first time seeing Import Tuner was when I googled the author.
I really appreciated the author's honesty and I loved the writing. This was definitely an engaging, informative memoir that I really enjoyed reading and would HIGHLY recommend🩷
And if I had a penny for every time someone told me I looked like Lucy Lui I'd be a billionaire!😂 Not only Lucy but I also got Tia Carrera!
Kaila Yu, former model, actress, singer, and now a travel journalist, goes into depth about her own experiences with "yellow fever" in this memoir through essays. She opens up about growing up Asian, her trials and tribulations breaking into the modeling world, and how she could be "seen." She talks about how Asian women were perceived and sexualized in the entertainment industry. It's raw, intimate, thought-provoking, and extremely eye-opening.
I actually learned quite a bit reading this memoir. I have always lived in my own little bubble, so a lot of the topics the author covered were new to me. And yes, I am a "cargirl" and always have been, but was never in the tuner scene. My first time seeing Import Tuner was when I googled the author.
I really appreciated the author's honesty and I loved the writing. This was definitely an engaging, informative memoir that I really enjoyed reading and would HIGHLY recommend🩷
And if I had a penny for every time someone told me I looked like Lucy Lui I'd be a billionaire!😂 Not only Lucy but I also got Tia Carrera!
September 9, 2025
I highly recommend this book because it tells an informative story that I believe gets overlooked especially in our world today. We need to look at history and what we are currently experiencing through colonial lenses so we become more aware to know better, do better and be better in our communities, the people we interact with and people in our lives. I learned a lot through this book. I am reflective on my part and am also working through a journey of self love and healing like Kaila Yu is dojng.
October 5, 2025
This is the book I wish Em Rata would’ve written and more - more thoughtful and introspective and critical in every way. The history was so illuminating and taught me so much more of the US’s dark past (and frankly, present). Kaila Yu you deserve everything and more !
September 29, 2025
4.5, rounded up
When I told the first boy I ever dated that I was half-Japanese, later that same day, he asked if I liked hentai and if he could show me the hentai he liked to watch. I sat in his twin extra-long bed and watched an animated girl with blue hair and large breasts salivate at a faceless man’s pixelated genitalia. I didn’t watch the porn but this boy who I thought could become someone I could love; how he was transfixed, visibly aroused, this white boy watching an Asian woman fold herself in half to please a faceless, racially ambiguous man.
Yu’s book recounts the kind of harrowing experience it is to live in a body that is fetishized by Asiaphiles. Whereas I have known being fetishized with that boy and others since as a consequence of sharing my half-Asianness — which would have otherwise been invisible to them — it is a different kind of life to endure the kind of gross attention Yu and countless other visibly East Asian women have. To witness how internalized misogyny and racism can corrupt your sense of self, silence your own identity and intuition and ability to establish boundaries, tarnish the relationships with people you love or want to love…I am relieved that Yu wrote this, to wake up others to the consequences of acquiescing to those oppressive forces. She put herself out on the line, not only incorporating academic work and personal testimony into these essays but also being brutally honest about the moments that she failed, how she helped propagate the same structures and mindsets that made her life so needlessly difficult. By the end of the book, it’s clear she’s been doing the work to unlearn all the things that caused her pain, which is a great relief.
This book does what it sets out to do more than satisfactorily. I wish she had dug more into the theory she gestured to within the essays, but that came at the expense of her personal stories taking up space (makes sense, it’s a memoir in essays, after all).
May this book land in the right people’s hands. By right people, of course, I mean both those who need to overcome their internalized racism and misogyny, and those who either blindly or gladly benefit from those forces. I hope to never see that boy who showed me his favorite hentai for as long as I live, and I hope his laptop is flooded with viruses every time he uses one of those sketch-ass sites.
When I told the first boy I ever dated that I was half-Japanese, later that same day, he asked if I liked hentai and if he could show me the hentai he liked to watch. I sat in his twin extra-long bed and watched an animated girl with blue hair and large breasts salivate at a faceless man’s pixelated genitalia. I didn’t watch the porn but this boy who I thought could become someone I could love; how he was transfixed, visibly aroused, this white boy watching an Asian woman fold herself in half to please a faceless, racially ambiguous man.
Yu’s book recounts the kind of harrowing experience it is to live in a body that is fetishized by Asiaphiles. Whereas I have known being fetishized with that boy and others since as a consequence of sharing my half-Asianness — which would have otherwise been invisible to them — it is a different kind of life to endure the kind of gross attention Yu and countless other visibly East Asian women have. To witness how internalized misogyny and racism can corrupt your sense of self, silence your own identity and intuition and ability to establish boundaries, tarnish the relationships with people you love or want to love…I am relieved that Yu wrote this, to wake up others to the consequences of acquiescing to those oppressive forces. She put herself out on the line, not only incorporating academic work and personal testimony into these essays but also being brutally honest about the moments that she failed, how she helped propagate the same structures and mindsets that made her life so needlessly difficult. By the end of the book, it’s clear she’s been doing the work to unlearn all the things that caused her pain, which is a great relief.
This book does what it sets out to do more than satisfactorily. I wish she had dug more into the theory she gestured to within the essays, but that came at the expense of her personal stories taking up space (makes sense, it’s a memoir in essays, after all).
May this book land in the right people’s hands. By right people, of course, I mean both those who need to overcome their internalized racism and misogyny, and those who either blindly or gladly benefit from those forces. I hope to never see that boy who showed me his favorite hentai for as long as I live, and I hope his laptop is flooded with viruses every time he uses one of those sketch-ass sites.
January 2, 2026
It feels difficult to criticize a memoir without criticizing the author, whom I have nothing against. Kaila is incredibly candid about the grimiest parts of both the various subcultures she participated in and the deeply self-internalized misogyny and racism that drove the life she had for several decades. I found analyses around the observations less valuable for being a bit trite, but no more so than most pop culture books about race and gender that aren’t written by academics.
That said, I came out of this book feeling a really sad and a bit… disturbed? Not just by all of Kaila’s terrible experiences with disgusting men, which was expected, but also by just how deeply ingrained her belief system still was even by what sounded like years of therapy and distancing herself from appearance-oriented careers. She reflects a lot how poor her self-worth was that she was reliant on male validation even when it was debasing, how the industry pitted her against other women who in retrospect were suffering just as much as she, and how reinforced the same systems by pushed younger women to sexualize themselves. All these reflections were great, and yet even while she distances herself from these beliefs and talks about how she knows better now, it is still so inextricably intertwined with the narrative. Even when looking back and talking about how she recognizes these thought patterns were wrong, almost every woman in introduced first with their looks and what fetish niche they satisfy, she’s constantly comparing herself to other women while speaking about herself terribly (“I strived to emulate her, butI was a was a thrift store caricature” “…reminded me of Sung-HI’s vast superiority [to me]” etc.), or talking about how she regrets pressuring her underage bandmate to wear more revealing clothing, while describing said-underaged-bandmate’s body just made me feel sad.
I don’t think you need to be fully self-actualized (is anyone ever?) to write a good memoir and I don’t regret reading this book and I learned some things about the entertainment industry. I’m sure Kaila is continuing to unpack all of these things and I would be interested in reading more from her in another 10 years, but I also can’t help but think that if you were someone that related more directly to Kaila’s experiences that the book would be more triggering that anything else.
That said, I came out of this book feeling a really sad and a bit… disturbed? Not just by all of Kaila’s terrible experiences with disgusting men, which was expected, but also by just how deeply ingrained her belief system still was even by what sounded like years of therapy and distancing herself from appearance-oriented careers. She reflects a lot how poor her self-worth was that she was reliant on male validation even when it was debasing, how the industry pitted her against other women who in retrospect were suffering just as much as she, and how reinforced the same systems by pushed younger women to sexualize themselves. All these reflections were great, and yet even while she distances herself from these beliefs and talks about how she knows better now, it is still so inextricably intertwined with the narrative. Even when looking back and talking about how she recognizes these thought patterns were wrong, almost every woman in introduced first with their looks and what fetish niche they satisfy, she’s constantly comparing herself to other women while speaking about herself terribly (“I strived to emulate her, butI was a was a thrift store caricature” “…reminded me of Sung-HI’s vast superiority [to me]” etc.), or talking about how she regrets pressuring her underage bandmate to wear more revealing clothing, while describing said-underaged-bandmate’s body just made me feel sad.
I don’t think you need to be fully self-actualized (is anyone ever?) to write a good memoir and I don’t regret reading this book and I learned some things about the entertainment industry. I’m sure Kaila is continuing to unpack all of these things and I would be interested in reading more from her in another 10 years, but I also can’t help but think that if you were someone that related more directly to Kaila’s experiences that the book would be more triggering that anything else.
August 19, 2025
Kaila Yu grew up in Southern California in the late nineties/early aughts, and she became a pinup model. Fetishized is essentially a memoir looking back on her life through a modern lens informed by feminism and racial studies. As is apparent through the title, Kaila focuses a lot of her examination on how racial stereotypes of Asian women (aka 'asiaphiles' or men with "yellow fever") impacted her own decisions and how she was perceived in the world.
I am about ten or so years younger than Yu, so while I was not a teen/young woman during this time period, I was greatly impacted by the portrayal of women in this period. I could easily have seen myself making similar choices as Yu, such as numerous plastic surgeries to "feel more comfortable in her body," had I been a young adult during this time. While I have learned to recognize racial stereotypes about Asians in general and Asian women in particular, I had never deeply thought about how Asian women were portrayed in film and television in the aughts before this book. Yu does a great job of integrating her own experiences with sociological research to explain how limited roles were for Asian women in that period. Yu recognizes how she played into these racial stereotypes in her modeling career, and even how her behavior harmed her fellow bandmates who did not want to participate in this capacity.
This was equally a fast read and an informative one, and I think this book can be enjoyed from either an academic or casual lens. Highly recommend.
Thank you to Crown Publishing and NetGalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
I am about ten or so years younger than Yu, so while I was not a teen/young woman during this time period, I was greatly impacted by the portrayal of women in this period. I could easily have seen myself making similar choices as Yu, such as numerous plastic surgeries to "feel more comfortable in her body," had I been a young adult during this time. While I have learned to recognize racial stereotypes about Asians in general and Asian women in particular, I had never deeply thought about how Asian women were portrayed in film and television in the aughts before this book. Yu does a great job of integrating her own experiences with sociological research to explain how limited roles were for Asian women in that period. Yu recognizes how she played into these racial stereotypes in her modeling career, and even how her behavior harmed her fellow bandmates who did not want to participate in this capacity.
This was equally a fast read and an informative one, and I think this book can be enjoyed from either an academic or casual lens. Highly recommend.
Thank you to Crown Publishing and NetGalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
January 7, 2026
While the fetishization of Asian women has been a part of my consciousness since before I was a teenager, I was not aware of how insidious it is. I, too, read and watched Memoirs of a Geisha and enjoyed it while feeling semi-icky, knowing that something was not quite right, but without the words to fully explain why. The author provides the explanation for this as well as a hundred other examples in the book. It’s dense with research.
Being someone in the beauty culture, she was the perfect Asian woman to tell the story and I related a lot to her experiences growing up in the 80s and 90s and the Bad Asian chapter particularly resonated with me. Many chapters actually made me sick. One of the last chapters, A Reckoning, was actually horrifying. Still, I carried on because the information is critical to know.
The author said she “embraced fetishization”, but I get how society and naivety made that an appealing option. She never makes herself out to seem perfect and honestly, I love the fact that she used her own personal platform to call out some of the seedier characters from her past. Some of her low blows made me laugh out loud. Good for her. They probably deserved it!
Being someone in the beauty culture, she was the perfect Asian woman to tell the story and I related a lot to her experiences growing up in the 80s and 90s and the Bad Asian chapter particularly resonated with me. Many chapters actually made me sick. One of the last chapters, A Reckoning, was actually horrifying. Still, I carried on because the information is critical to know.
The author said she “embraced fetishization”, but I get how society and naivety made that an appealing option. She never makes herself out to seem perfect and honestly, I love the fact that she used her own personal platform to call out some of the seedier characters from her past. Some of her low blows made me laugh out loud. Good for her. They probably deserved it!
October 6, 2025
I was drawn to this book because I remembered Kaila from the 2000s-she was one of the few visible Asian figures in media at the time, and I was curious to hear her story. Some parts were nostalgic and relatable, especially her reflections on growing up, wanting to fit in, and trying to be seen as cool. I especially appreciated her honestly about painful experiences, like the fake casting in San Diego, and how that impacted her.
That said, the book felt surface-level in many places. While she detailed past experiences, I was hoping for more insight into how she was processing or evolving from them. Some stories also felt irrelevant or underdeveloped. For example, there was a story where she went on a first date with a guy who let her walk home alone in a dangerous area. It wasn’t clear what that added to the narrative. In the book, she repeatedly used the term “asiaphile," but it felt overgeneralized. She labeled fans, colleagues, and others as "asiaphiles" without fully explaining what they did for her to categorize them that way, and felt overly pessimistic.
I also would’ve liked more insight about her family-how they responded to her career, whether there was reconciliation, and what their relationship looks like today. That emotional arc felt unfinished. Overall, while I appreciated her vulnerability and perspective, the memoir lacked depth in key areas and left me wanting more.
That said, the book felt surface-level in many places. While she detailed past experiences, I was hoping for more insight into how she was processing or evolving from them. Some stories also felt irrelevant or underdeveloped. For example, there was a story where she went on a first date with a guy who let her walk home alone in a dangerous area. It wasn’t clear what that added to the narrative. In the book, she repeatedly used the term “asiaphile," but it felt overgeneralized. She labeled fans, colleagues, and others as "asiaphiles" without fully explaining what they did for her to categorize them that way, and felt overly pessimistic.
I also would’ve liked more insight about her family-how they responded to her career, whether there was reconciliation, and what their relationship looks like today. That emotional arc felt unfinished. Overall, while I appreciated her vulnerability and perspective, the memoir lacked depth in key areas and left me wanting more.
September 30, 2025
Yu's seems very knowledgeable and passionate about the struggles that Asian American women face under the white gaze. However, I found it difficult to follow and sympathize with her perspective as an Asian American woman myself. Her self-scrutiny, at times, is admirable, and at others, seems counterproductive.
For a book attempting to break free from generalizations and stereotypes, its form only further reiterates them. She sometimes speaks in "we" and makes statements such as "almost every Asian woman growing up in the early aughts has been called Lucy Liu." Who is this statement for? Only the white people reading? Those with an Asian fetish objectify and divorce Asian women from their individuality. Yet she scrutinizes herself and other Asian women in her life for simply existing. As a reader, I know nothing about her "tiger mom" beyond the reiteration of the term. Is she not also a person deserving of more than that descriptor?
The trouble lies in connecting her experiences and her detrimental past self to the Asian American experience at large. I found the book disorganized and compulsive. It takes away from the focus and doesn't compel the issue of white supremacy.
For a book attempting to break free from generalizations and stereotypes, its form only further reiterates them. She sometimes speaks in "we" and makes statements such as "almost every Asian woman growing up in the early aughts has been called Lucy Liu." Who is this statement for? Only the white people reading? Those with an Asian fetish objectify and divorce Asian women from their individuality. Yet she scrutinizes herself and other Asian women in her life for simply existing. As a reader, I know nothing about her "tiger mom" beyond the reiteration of the term. Is she not also a person deserving of more than that descriptor?
The trouble lies in connecting her experiences and her detrimental past self to the Asian American experience at large. I found the book disorganized and compulsive. It takes away from the focus and doesn't compel the issue of white supremacy.
January 7, 2026
easily best book of 2026. straight fire and men aint shii
Read
December 31, 2025Out of respect for authors' personal stories, I prefer not to provide star ratings for memoirs.
Kaila Yu's Fetishized is a unique and highly consumable memoir: part personal anecdote, part social commentary on Asian American fetishism, her story serves to reflect on the ways her identity contributed to (and was shaped by) popular culture in the 90s and 00s.
As someone who was largely unfamiliar with the Asian baby girl (ABG) subculture, I was quite intrigued by the history provided in this book. And while I found Yu's stories about her own experiences were compelling, this book truly shone in moments when she was able to connect her experiences to larger trends, as well as to provide concrete data to support these observations.
Thank you to Crown Publishing and NetGalley for my advanced copy.
Kaila Yu's Fetishized is a unique and highly consumable memoir: part personal anecdote, part social commentary on Asian American fetishism, her story serves to reflect on the ways her identity contributed to (and was shaped by) popular culture in the 90s and 00s.
As someone who was largely unfamiliar with the Asian baby girl (ABG) subculture, I was quite intrigued by the history provided in this book. And while I found Yu's stories about her own experiences were compelling, this book truly shone in moments when she was able to connect her experiences to larger trends, as well as to provide concrete data to support these observations.
Thank you to Crown Publishing and NetGalley for my advanced copy.
November 14, 2025
Oh this book was absolutely illuminating! And what a perfect book to read for Nonfiction November.
Kaila Yu, former pinup model and lead singer of the band Nylon Pink does such an incredible job of showing deep racism and fetishization of Asians in her book. She will also be the first one to tell you that she was completely caught up in this culture, one that instead of celebrating her, was exploiting her. Yu goes through her life experiences while also taking a broad look at history and culture, which makes it even more impactful.
I feel like before I read this book, I knew there were certain things that you would see in media that were problematic like Full Metal Jacket and the twins in Austin Powers, but I’d never even considered taking a closer look at themes in Miss Saigon or the Joy Luck Club. And I had noooooo clue how awful things could be in the adult entertainment industry for Asian women.
My heart goes out to Yu for making this incredible book and sharing her own complicated past and the journey she’s taken towards healing.
Kaila Yu, former pinup model and lead singer of the band Nylon Pink does such an incredible job of showing deep racism and fetishization of Asians in her book. She will also be the first one to tell you that she was completely caught up in this culture, one that instead of celebrating her, was exploiting her. Yu goes through her life experiences while also taking a broad look at history and culture, which makes it even more impactful.
I feel like before I read this book, I knew there were certain things that you would see in media that were problematic like Full Metal Jacket and the twins in Austin Powers, but I’d never even considered taking a closer look at themes in Miss Saigon or the Joy Luck Club. And I had noooooo clue how awful things could be in the adult entertainment industry for Asian women.
My heart goes out to Yu for making this incredible book and sharing her own complicated past and the journey she’s taken towards healing.
Read
December 25, 2025Ця книга буде релевантною комусь, але точно не мені. Витрачений час
August 24, 2025
Many thanks to Crown Publishing and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Kaila Yu’s bold and compelling memoir/essay collection that confronts racism, objectification, and representation titled Fetishized: A Reckoning With Yellow Fever, Feminism, and Beauty. I didn’t know who Kaila Yu was before reading this book, but it was interesting to read about her career transformation from an import and pin-up model to musician and lead singer for the band Nylon Pink to eventually a writer who is able to reflect and distil how social stereotypes like the model minority myth and the dragon lady shaped her own motivations and career choices with a critical eye. Although reading about the social issues Yu critically examines in this book is challenging, she presents them in a kind of autobiographical manner, connecting her own experiences to the larger issues and supporting her observations and conclusions with research and statistics to further bolster her points. This approach that bridges both memoir and critical essays makes the entry into discussing serious social problems and issues easier to approach as a reader. Furthermore, Yu’s style and descriptions are rooted in a kind of humor and relevance that also lessens the tension, but still makes readers appreciate and sympathize with the gravity and weight of these issues. I’ve read a few of these kinds of these books that could be both memoir and essay based, and I really appreciate them for teaching since they can make great texts to help students not only develop critical insights into social situations, but also to help them see how as a writer their own experiences can be an entry point for interrogation of issues and events in society. Yu’s book reminded me of Alice Bolin’s recent essay collection Culture Creep in that both writers begin with their own experiences as a framework for examining how women are represented and portrayed in popular culture, and what kind of influence women in popular culture like singers, actresses, reality television personalities and social media influencers have on shaping young women’s own ideas about themselves, their careers, and expectations for relationships. Furthermore, Yu’s examination of Asian stereotypes, representation, and treatment in society also reminded me Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings, Jane Wong’s Meet Me Tonight in Atlantic City, and Viet Thanh Nguyen’s A Man of Two Faces, books by Asian American writers and scholars who explore their experiences growing up, as well as the kind of art, literature, and film/television representations that shaped their own ideas and approaches to art and writing. Chapters in Yu’s book would pair well with other chapters from any of these memoirs to provide students with a multifaceted perspective of race and identity, and in particular how popular media and literature can shape ideas about racism and stereotypes.
Yu’s book is also interesting in that her experiences take the narrative further to show how these stereotypes and representation shaped her own behavior and choices. She frequently mentioned that her decision to become a pinup and import car model was an attempt to challenge the model minority myth, the belief that “Asians are quiet, intelligent, high achieving, and hardworking… to it Asians against other minorities”, which was interesting to consider. Yu further examines that Asian women are often left to fit into 2 categories—the model minority or the hypersexualized Asian woman, like a dragon lady, whose stereotype she traces to colonialism, imperialism, and war. The second essay, “Geisha”, examines the myth of the hypersexualized Asian woman with the book and film Memoirs of a Geisha, which was published in the late 90s, and turned into a film in the early 2000s. Yu examines how Arthur Golden, the American male writer, perpetuated stereotypes about Asian women and sexuality with this book, and how audiences failed to note many of the disturbing elements of the story, but rather recognized the kind of abuse and violence in the book as a love story. Yu examines how her own experiences with older men, and in particular in how a specific girlfriend would pressure Yu into pursuing hooking up with older men. She also notes that “The book affirmed that pursuing glamor was not just worthwhile, it was required…”, which is also a recurring theme throughout Yu’s book. The idea that Asian women needed to fit into these stereotypes and act and look certain ways to make them worthy to the male gaze nudged Yu into pursuing a career in modeling and altering her look to fit into these stereotypes. I appreciated her candidness in examining these ideas and seeing how her own desire for attention from men was shaped by these earlier representations. Yu also critiqued The Joy Luck Club, noting that it was one of the first novels about Asian American experience to be taught in schools, but also that was made into a popular film. Unlike Memoirs of a Geisha, The Joy Luck Club was written by an Asian American woman (Amy Tan), yet Yu also noted some of the inconsistencies and problems with the way the mothers in the film are portrayed, and how their lives as immigrants are greatly simplified, probably to appeal more to white audiences. The film and the representation of Asian immigrant women allowed Yu to examine her own mother’s experiences to challenge the ways that these women were represented in the film.
One of the most important, but also upsetting chapters in the book (“Bad Asian”) detail Yu’s sexual assault during a modeling audition, and help to highlight the ways that pornography often appeals to racial stereotypes and exploits power inequalities. Yu was just starting her modeling career, and applied to various auditions, not really thinking about the potential for assault and exploitation. This essay, and some of the others in the book, examine the ways that pornography particularly fetishizes Asian women and feeds into stereotypes while also dehumanizing them, reducing their individuality. Yu also explores how the history of colonialism, imperialism, and war have furthered these representations of Asian women. What was even more disturbing was the comments from male fans that were often sexually violent, but also tied into the kinds of violent pornography that often exploit Asian women.
The later part of the book explores Yu’s pivot from modeling into music, first as a solo act, then as part of the group Nylon Pink. I enjoyed reading these chapters, even though I was not familiar with Nylon Pink, which was one of the first all Asian female bands. It was cool to learn about how she connected with bassist Katt Lee to make music, and how the band eventually came together to include other Asian female musicians. One thing that resonated with me about the band was how Yu explains the issues of representation for Asian females in music. Although hopefully that kind of representation might be changing with women like Karen O, Michelle Zauner, Mitski, the music scene was different in the early and mid-2000s. Yu explained that to gain traction and be taken more seriously, the band needed to lean into more of the Asian female stereotypes, while noting that other white artists simply could be themselves. Yu also noted that Black female singers often didn’t have this kind of issue either, where singers like Eryka Badu could develop their own unique personas and not have to play into stereotypes. I found it interesting too that Yu critiqued Gwen Stefani’s appropriation of Japanese culture with the Harajuku Girls, a kind of backup dancer troupe that remained silent and were kind of like props, furthering stereotypes about Asian women. Despite developing the band and gaining some traction, Yu explores how the members often were fetishized, and how Yu herself pushed some bandmembers into these fetishized stereotypes to further the band’s popularity. This was also one of the most revealing elements of the book, how Yu acknowledges her own pursuit of these kinds of stereotypes and fetishization as a means to benefit and further her career, but also how it eventually brought her anxiety and anguish. It also seemed to have brought about the end of the band, noting how she was no longer into performing with the group. There’s a lot more to the story of the band, and I recommend this for anyone who’s interesting in books about the music industry and bands, as Yu and her bandmates experiences with fetishization and racism add a sad but important twist to these kinds of behind the music stories.
One of the last chapters of the book, “A Reckoning”, also stood out as a kind of turning point for Yu, where she discusses the Georgia spa shooting that occurred in 2021, where eight people, six of whom where Asian women, were murdered by a white man who appeared to have a fetish for Asian women and seemed to blame them for his own personal problems. Yu situates this event in the pandemic, where violence against Asian Americans, especially Asian women, became more commonplace, but also notes other instances of violence by white men against Asian women that predated the pandemic, emphasizing that this violence is more common than the media would report. It also relates to the idea of fetishization and how it dehumanizes Asian women, reducing them to parts and objects rather than recognizing their individuality and their humanity. It also seemed to be a turning point for Yu’s writing, as she began to write more about fetishization and the violence that was often paired with it. It is a powerful ending to a compelling book that interrogates representation for Asian women, as well as examining how history, colonialism, war, and imperialism have all contributed to the fetishization of Asian women. As Yu notes, it’s challenging to determine the differences between fetishes and preferences that men may have, but she rightly acknowledges the complications and violence that often results from fetishization, not only how it has impacted her own life and career, and how it has impacted others close to her, but also how it impacts other Asian American women. There is so much to review with this book, I feel like I’m not completely covering everything that Yu addresses. However, Fetishized is the kind of book that is necessary to revisit and think about the different topics and issues she explores. Yu’s book is an important and compelling read, and I could see any of these chapters working well in a first-year writing class to explore important issues of race, identity, culture, identity, and sexuality, as well as how important representation is for students. Many of the chapters would pair well with other recent books that are both memoirs and examine social issues. Highly recommended!
Yu’s book is also interesting in that her experiences take the narrative further to show how these stereotypes and representation shaped her own behavior and choices. She frequently mentioned that her decision to become a pinup and import car model was an attempt to challenge the model minority myth, the belief that “Asians are quiet, intelligent, high achieving, and hardworking… to it Asians against other minorities”, which was interesting to consider. Yu further examines that Asian women are often left to fit into 2 categories—the model minority or the hypersexualized Asian woman, like a dragon lady, whose stereotype she traces to colonialism, imperialism, and war. The second essay, “Geisha”, examines the myth of the hypersexualized Asian woman with the book and film Memoirs of a Geisha, which was published in the late 90s, and turned into a film in the early 2000s. Yu examines how Arthur Golden, the American male writer, perpetuated stereotypes about Asian women and sexuality with this book, and how audiences failed to note many of the disturbing elements of the story, but rather recognized the kind of abuse and violence in the book as a love story. Yu examines how her own experiences with older men, and in particular in how a specific girlfriend would pressure Yu into pursuing hooking up with older men. She also notes that “The book affirmed that pursuing glamor was not just worthwhile, it was required…”, which is also a recurring theme throughout Yu’s book. The idea that Asian women needed to fit into these stereotypes and act and look certain ways to make them worthy to the male gaze nudged Yu into pursuing a career in modeling and altering her look to fit into these stereotypes. I appreciated her candidness in examining these ideas and seeing how her own desire for attention from men was shaped by these earlier representations. Yu also critiqued The Joy Luck Club, noting that it was one of the first novels about Asian American experience to be taught in schools, but also that was made into a popular film. Unlike Memoirs of a Geisha, The Joy Luck Club was written by an Asian American woman (Amy Tan), yet Yu also noted some of the inconsistencies and problems with the way the mothers in the film are portrayed, and how their lives as immigrants are greatly simplified, probably to appeal more to white audiences. The film and the representation of Asian immigrant women allowed Yu to examine her own mother’s experiences to challenge the ways that these women were represented in the film.
One of the most important, but also upsetting chapters in the book (“Bad Asian”) detail Yu’s sexual assault during a modeling audition, and help to highlight the ways that pornography often appeals to racial stereotypes and exploits power inequalities. Yu was just starting her modeling career, and applied to various auditions, not really thinking about the potential for assault and exploitation. This essay, and some of the others in the book, examine the ways that pornography particularly fetishizes Asian women and feeds into stereotypes while also dehumanizing them, reducing their individuality. Yu also explores how the history of colonialism, imperialism, and war have furthered these representations of Asian women. What was even more disturbing was the comments from male fans that were often sexually violent, but also tied into the kinds of violent pornography that often exploit Asian women.
The later part of the book explores Yu’s pivot from modeling into music, first as a solo act, then as part of the group Nylon Pink. I enjoyed reading these chapters, even though I was not familiar with Nylon Pink, which was one of the first all Asian female bands. It was cool to learn about how she connected with bassist Katt Lee to make music, and how the band eventually came together to include other Asian female musicians. One thing that resonated with me about the band was how Yu explains the issues of representation for Asian females in music. Although hopefully that kind of representation might be changing with women like Karen O, Michelle Zauner, Mitski, the music scene was different in the early and mid-2000s. Yu explained that to gain traction and be taken more seriously, the band needed to lean into more of the Asian female stereotypes, while noting that other white artists simply could be themselves. Yu also noted that Black female singers often didn’t have this kind of issue either, where singers like Eryka Badu could develop their own unique personas and not have to play into stereotypes. I found it interesting too that Yu critiqued Gwen Stefani’s appropriation of Japanese culture with the Harajuku Girls, a kind of backup dancer troupe that remained silent and were kind of like props, furthering stereotypes about Asian women. Despite developing the band and gaining some traction, Yu explores how the members often were fetishized, and how Yu herself pushed some bandmembers into these fetishized stereotypes to further the band’s popularity. This was also one of the most revealing elements of the book, how Yu acknowledges her own pursuit of these kinds of stereotypes and fetishization as a means to benefit and further her career, but also how it eventually brought her anxiety and anguish. It also seemed to have brought about the end of the band, noting how she was no longer into performing with the group. There’s a lot more to the story of the band, and I recommend this for anyone who’s interesting in books about the music industry and bands, as Yu and her bandmates experiences with fetishization and racism add a sad but important twist to these kinds of behind the music stories.
One of the last chapters of the book, “A Reckoning”, also stood out as a kind of turning point for Yu, where she discusses the Georgia spa shooting that occurred in 2021, where eight people, six of whom where Asian women, were murdered by a white man who appeared to have a fetish for Asian women and seemed to blame them for his own personal problems. Yu situates this event in the pandemic, where violence against Asian Americans, especially Asian women, became more commonplace, but also notes other instances of violence by white men against Asian women that predated the pandemic, emphasizing that this violence is more common than the media would report. It also relates to the idea of fetishization and how it dehumanizes Asian women, reducing them to parts and objects rather than recognizing their individuality and their humanity. It also seemed to be a turning point for Yu’s writing, as she began to write more about fetishization and the violence that was often paired with it. It is a powerful ending to a compelling book that interrogates representation for Asian women, as well as examining how history, colonialism, war, and imperialism have all contributed to the fetishization of Asian women. As Yu notes, it’s challenging to determine the differences between fetishes and preferences that men may have, but she rightly acknowledges the complications and violence that often results from fetishization, not only how it has impacted her own life and career, and how it has impacted others close to her, but also how it impacts other Asian American women. There is so much to review with this book, I feel like I’m not completely covering everything that Yu addresses. However, Fetishized is the kind of book that is necessary to revisit and think about the different topics and issues she explores. Yu’s book is an important and compelling read, and I could see any of these chapters working well in a first-year writing class to explore important issues of race, identity, culture, identity, and sexuality, as well as how important representation is for students. Many of the chapters would pair well with other recent books that are both memoirs and examine social issues. Highly recommended!
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