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Biting the Hand: Growing Up Asian in Black and White America
Julia Lee is angry. And she has questions.
What does it mean to be Asian in America? What does it look like to be an ally or an accomplice? How can we shatter the structures of white supremacy that fuel racial stratification?
When Julia was fifteen, her hometown went up in smoke during the 1992 Los Angeles riots. The daughter of Korean immigrant store owners in a predominantly Black neighborhood, Julia was taught to be grateful for the privilege afforded to her. However, the acquittal of four white police officers in the beating of Rodney King, following the murder of Latasha Harlins by a Korean shopkeeper, forced Julia to question her racial identity and complicity. She was neither Black nor white. So who was she?
This question would follow Julia for years to come, resurfacing as she traded in her tumultuous childhood for the white upper echelon of elite academia. It was only when she began a PhD in English that she found answers—not through studying Victorian literature, as Julia had planned, but rather in the brilliant prose of writers like James Baldwin and Toni Morrison. Their works gave Julia the vocabulary and, more important, the permission to critically examine her own tortured position as an Asian American, setting off a powerful journey of racial reckoning, atonement, and self-discovery.
With prose by turns scathing and heart-wrenching, Julia lays bare the complex disorientation and shame that stem from this country’s imposed racial hierarchy. And she argues that Asian Americans must work toward lasting social change alongside Black and brown communities in order to combat the scarcity culture of white supremacy through abundance and joy. In this passionate, no-holds-barred memoir, Julia interrogates her own experiences of marginality and resistance, and ultimately asks what may be the biggest question of all—what can we do?
What does it mean to be Asian in America? What does it look like to be an ally or an accomplice? How can we shatter the structures of white supremacy that fuel racial stratification?
When Julia was fifteen, her hometown went up in smoke during the 1992 Los Angeles riots. The daughter of Korean immigrant store owners in a predominantly Black neighborhood, Julia was taught to be grateful for the privilege afforded to her. However, the acquittal of four white police officers in the beating of Rodney King, following the murder of Latasha Harlins by a Korean shopkeeper, forced Julia to question her racial identity and complicity. She was neither Black nor white. So who was she?
This question would follow Julia for years to come, resurfacing as she traded in her tumultuous childhood for the white upper echelon of elite academia. It was only when she began a PhD in English that she found answers—not through studying Victorian literature, as Julia had planned, but rather in the brilliant prose of writers like James Baldwin and Toni Morrison. Their works gave Julia the vocabulary and, more important, the permission to critically examine her own tortured position as an Asian American, setting off a powerful journey of racial reckoning, atonement, and self-discovery.
With prose by turns scathing and heart-wrenching, Julia lays bare the complex disorientation and shame that stem from this country’s imposed racial hierarchy. And she argues that Asian Americans must work toward lasting social change alongside Black and brown communities in order to combat the scarcity culture of white supremacy through abundance and joy. In this passionate, no-holds-barred memoir, Julia interrogates her own experiences of marginality and resistance, and ultimately asks what may be the biggest question of all—what can we do?
241 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 18, 2023
206 people are currently reading
15660 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 440 reviews
October 1, 2025
entering my nonfiction era
https://emmareadstoomuch.substack.com...
what a book to do so with.
the rage and hope in these pages are such a balm right now, as are the personal stories that the author uses to build up into this story of asian americans and the absurdity of that term and the pervasive violence of whiteness and the racial hierarchy that seeps insidiously into everything we do.
i can't recommend it enough.
bottom line: officially becoming a nonfiction stan.
https://emmareadstoomuch.substack.com...
what a book to do so with.
the rage and hope in these pages are such a balm right now, as are the personal stories that the author uses to build up into this story of asian americans and the absurdity of that term and the pervasive violence of whiteness and the racial hierarchy that seeps insidiously into everything we do.
i can't recommend it enough.
bottom line: officially becoming a nonfiction stan.
April 30, 2023
A great memoir that interrogates Asian Americans’ racial positionality in the United States, by a Korean American woman born in Los Angeles, who later attends Princeton for undergrad and Harvard for her PhD. Julia Lee writes about the racism she faced both in these educational spaces and outside the walls of academia. She shares with riveting honesty the tremendous anger she felt due to her tumultuous household as well as from the numerous instances of microaggressions, racial exclusion, and internalized racism she herself experienced and/or witnessed. One of the aspects of this memoir I appreciated the most is Lee’s commitment to calling in/out fellow Asian Americans on how we can either fight to dismantle white supremacy alongside Black, Latinx, and Indigenous communities in the United States or we can align ourselves with white supremacy and reap its (heinous) benefits. While I have Asian American close friends, colleagues, and acquaintances who act to combat white supremacy, I also know many other Asian Americans who try to align themselves with whiteness (e.g., pursuing upward class/educational mobility while perpetuating anti-Blackness, exhibiting anti-Black and colorist dating preferences, and more). I hope this book can help stir some dialogue and change from within the Asian American community broadly.
I also enjoyed reading her raw recounting of her relationship with her parents. I resonated with how she acknowledged the traumas they faced and how those traumas influenced their parenting, while at the same time not condoning child abuse or cruelty toward children. Love this ability to hold nuance and I feel like Lee’s self-awareness shines through when she writes about her parents, amidst many other aspects of her life she writes intelligently about. Though the narrative diffuses a bit toward the end of the book – the first half feels more linear in terms of following her childhood, then high school, then time at Princeton – I think Biting the Hand is a welcome, powerful addition to the growing canon of Asian American memoirs.
I also enjoyed reading her raw recounting of her relationship with her parents. I resonated with how she acknowledged the traumas they faced and how those traumas influenced their parenting, while at the same time not condoning child abuse or cruelty toward children. Love this ability to hold nuance and I feel like Lee’s self-awareness shines through when she writes about her parents, amidst many other aspects of her life she writes intelligently about. Though the narrative diffuses a bit toward the end of the book – the first half feels more linear in terms of following her childhood, then high school, then time at Princeton – I think Biting the Hand is a welcome, powerful addition to the growing canon of Asian American memoirs.
July 6, 2024
I was quite young during the 1992 Los Angeles riots. I'm ashamed to say I didn't learn about the event until Anthony Bourdain visited Koreatown. I'm sure Korean Americans look back on this area nowadays through a gentrified lens, but what was LA like back then? What is it like now?
Growing up Asian American (Julia gives an interesting take on this term) is obviously different than growing up white in the US. But it's also significantly different than growing up in Black in the US. What is this gray space? What is the model minority myth? I found myself connecting to a lot of this, which won't surprise you if you follow my reviews at all.
🎧 Thank you to NetGalley and Macmillan Audio
--
➤➤Dallas
Musiro
Omi Korean Grill & Bar
➤➤Houston
Seoul Garden
➤➤Los Angeles
Bumsan Organic Milk Bar
Hae Jang Chon
Han Bat Sul Lung Tang
Hangari Kalguksu
Oakobing
Paris Baguette
SomiSomi
Soot Bull Jeep
Yangji Gamjatang
Yuk Dae Jang
Growing up Asian American (Julia gives an interesting take on this term) is obviously different than growing up white in the US. But it's also significantly different than growing up in Black in the US. What is this gray space? What is the model minority myth? I found myself connecting to a lot of this, which won't surprise you if you follow my reviews at all.
🎧 Thank you to NetGalley and Macmillan Audio
--
➤➤Dallas
Musiro
Omi Korean Grill & Bar
➤➤Houston
Seoul Garden
➤➤Los Angeles
Bumsan Organic Milk Bar
Hae Jang Chon
Han Bat Sul Lung Tang
Hangari Kalguksu
Oakobing
Paris Baguette
SomiSomi
Soot Bull Jeep
Yangji Gamjatang
Yuk Dae Jang
August 12, 2023
This was fantastic. The rage was there. The knowledge was there. Smart and sharp. Tone spot on. Content spot on. The essay in the 92 LA riots was *chefs kiss*.
May 21, 2025
The book was uninspiring at first. It felt like a giant whine against white supremacy. But as I got deeper into the book, I realized it was more than that. There were a few a-ha moments for me about my own Koreaness:
1. It wasn't just my parents who didn't want to talk about the war or about the Japanese occupation. It seems there was enough national PTSD that no one from that generation is willing to open up about it without a great deal of personal shame or retraumatization. This gave me a lot of pause to think back to each time I asked my parents to tell me what happened to our families. They were more apt to share stories about other people we knew or strangers they'd heard about or the general events (like separation of families and the young girls who had been kidnapped to "serve" as "comfort" women for Japanese soldiers).
2. It was only in the early aughts that people started asking me if I was from North Korea or South Korea. Until then, they accepted my answer whenever I simply said I was from Korea. It didn't occur to me to answer any other way. It was good to learn from the author that I wasn't the only one. No one I know has ever escaped from North Korea. I read a statistic that it was only about 1000 people a year that even attempted it. If you were caught, you and your family were publicly killed. If you weren't caught, your family was publicly killed. But this is what I heard through word of mouth. I have no idea how true that is since I don't know anyone who's escaped, let alone gone back or heard back from their families to find out. In general, though, while my family knew there was a DMZ separating the countries and regimes on either side that meant a difference in every way of life, for many of us, Korea was Korea. We were one people, especially given so many families we actually did know, including one of my aunts, had been separated from their families during the war when the rest of their families were stuck in North Korea or vice versa. To this day, if someone asks about my origin, I tell them I'm Korean or from Korea. It's just too weird to me to specify South Korean/South Korea.
3. My mom used to do the same thing as the author's mom - cut out/share news articles about successful Koreans. In her case, it felt like pressure to achieve. In my case, it was to be proud of our heritage and our people. It felt good to be connected to other Korean people when there were so few Asians at all in this tiny little town in NJ that was largely populated by Italians, Irish, and Jewish. There were two other Chinese families and one Indian family that I knew from the Asian diaspora. There was also one Black family and one Latinx family in my neighborhood. While the intents were different, the outcomes were the same. We had articles peppered on our walls and in our emails throughout our lives. LOL. Even this feels good to know - that it was a practice of more than one Korean mom.
4. Rodney King was the first-time police violence on Black lives came into my consciousness. I was in college. I only knew what I'd seen in the news. There was no internet back then - the only news I had access to were the newspapers and the network news. It was all one-sided, and if George Holliday hadn't bravely filmed and released the footage, who knows what version of the story would've been told or if any version would've been released (I think we can make some guesses about it). So it's no surprise the LA riots were sold as a Korean vs Black conflict. I'm really grateful to the author, who lived in LA at the time, for giving me a better understanding of what really happened and why.
5. A few of my Korean peers from church ended up at Princeton. I've never been - not even to the campus. All I knew about Princeton was that Woodrow Wilson was deeply racist, that its campus was one of the most beautiful among the Ivies, and that Albert Einstein had spent some time there. After reading about the author's experience, I have to wonder how those peers of mine fared, if they saw any of the exclusionary culture, how they felt about it, etc. I have no way to contact them, but I wonder about it nonetheless.
As I started to understand the author better, I realized it might've started out a bit whiny, but it ended up being a personal treatise on racism in the US based on her personal experience, her academic analysis, current events, etc. Perhaps the book could've used a bit of better editing in the beginning, but by the end of the book, I felt far better understood and had a better understanding of the racism that is intentionally fostered in this country every single day.
I love that Lee's chosen to go into academia and that she teaches Black studies as a part of her curriculum. If we are ever going to get beyond the racism handed to us as a normal standard of living, we need to understand each other enough to educate ourselves and each other as a united force of antiracism. I hope there are Black professors also teaching Korean studies, and that we are collectively learning and teaching about other marginalized cultures throughout the country, even as DE&I is being criminalized by the current government. That's intentional too folks. They are trying to resist our uprising, our voices demanding to be heard, our collective power to bring equality and equity into this world.
Rounding up to 5.
1. It wasn't just my parents who didn't want to talk about the war or about the Japanese occupation. It seems there was enough national PTSD that no one from that generation is willing to open up about it without a great deal of personal shame or retraumatization. This gave me a lot of pause to think back to each time I asked my parents to tell me what happened to our families. They were more apt to share stories about other people we knew or strangers they'd heard about or the general events (like separation of families and the young girls who had been kidnapped to "serve" as "comfort" women for Japanese soldiers).
2. It was only in the early aughts that people started asking me if I was from North Korea or South Korea. Until then, they accepted my answer whenever I simply said I was from Korea. It didn't occur to me to answer any other way. It was good to learn from the author that I wasn't the only one. No one I know has ever escaped from North Korea. I read a statistic that it was only about 1000 people a year that even attempted it. If you were caught, you and your family were publicly killed. If you weren't caught, your family was publicly killed. But this is what I heard through word of mouth. I have no idea how true that is since I don't know anyone who's escaped, let alone gone back or heard back from their families to find out. In general, though, while my family knew there was a DMZ separating the countries and regimes on either side that meant a difference in every way of life, for many of us, Korea was Korea. We were one people, especially given so many families we actually did know, including one of my aunts, had been separated from their families during the war when the rest of their families were stuck in North Korea or vice versa. To this day, if someone asks about my origin, I tell them I'm Korean or from Korea. It's just too weird to me to specify South Korean/South Korea.
3. My mom used to do the same thing as the author's mom - cut out/share news articles about successful Koreans. In her case, it felt like pressure to achieve. In my case, it was to be proud of our heritage and our people. It felt good to be connected to other Korean people when there were so few Asians at all in this tiny little town in NJ that was largely populated by Italians, Irish, and Jewish. There were two other Chinese families and one Indian family that I knew from the Asian diaspora. There was also one Black family and one Latinx family in my neighborhood. While the intents were different, the outcomes were the same. We had articles peppered on our walls and in our emails throughout our lives. LOL. Even this feels good to know - that it was a practice of more than one Korean mom.
4. Rodney King was the first-time police violence on Black lives came into my consciousness. I was in college. I only knew what I'd seen in the news. There was no internet back then - the only news I had access to were the newspapers and the network news. It was all one-sided, and if George Holliday hadn't bravely filmed and released the footage, who knows what version of the story would've been told or if any version would've been released (I think we can make some guesses about it). So it's no surprise the LA riots were sold as a Korean vs Black conflict. I'm really grateful to the author, who lived in LA at the time, for giving me a better understanding of what really happened and why.
5. A few of my Korean peers from church ended up at Princeton. I've never been - not even to the campus. All I knew about Princeton was that Woodrow Wilson was deeply racist, that its campus was one of the most beautiful among the Ivies, and that Albert Einstein had spent some time there. After reading about the author's experience, I have to wonder how those peers of mine fared, if they saw any of the exclusionary culture, how they felt about it, etc. I have no way to contact them, but I wonder about it nonetheless.
As I started to understand the author better, I realized it might've started out a bit whiny, but it ended up being a personal treatise on racism in the US based on her personal experience, her academic analysis, current events, etc. Perhaps the book could've used a bit of better editing in the beginning, but by the end of the book, I felt far better understood and had a better understanding of the racism that is intentionally fostered in this country every single day.
I love that Lee's chosen to go into academia and that she teaches Black studies as a part of her curriculum. If we are ever going to get beyond the racism handed to us as a normal standard of living, we need to understand each other enough to educate ourselves and each other as a united force of antiracism. I hope there are Black professors also teaching Korean studies, and that we are collectively learning and teaching about other marginalized cultures throughout the country, even as DE&I is being criminalized by the current government. That's intentional too folks. They are trying to resist our uprising, our voices demanding to be heard, our collective power to bring equality and equity into this world.
Rounding up to 5.
November 28, 2022
Julia Lee is such a great writer. I really enjoyed her life story. I couldn't put this book down as soon as I read the first page. Lee’s fight is ultimately against oppressive systems of power (as many as she can smash), but at every turn she presents us with deeply personal stories of her own struggles and epiphanies. Biting the Hand is a perfect distillation of scholarship, lived experience, and revolutionary call for the liberation of all peoples. Highly recommend.
April 30, 2023
"Justice isn't BIPOC folks feuding with one another for a small piece of pie. It's realizing that we all deserve more of the whole damn pie."
In Biting the Hand, Julia Lee uses her memoir as way to not only share her lived experience as an Asian American in the United States but also as a way to convey the anger, shame, and frustration that many people of color can feel in a country built on white supremacy.
Having lived a life where she was a child of Korean immigrants, a teenager during the LA riots, a graduate of both Princeton and Harvard, an English professor, a professor of Black literature, and a mother, I was immediately pulled into Lee's personal narrative.
Lee speaks on the rage and shame that she has felt living as a Korean American in the United States and the racist structures this country is built on, but also initiates a call to action in dismantling the systems of power that weren't made for people color while also giving ourselves grace throughout in order to avoid burnout and self hate when things don't go as planned.
Using the words of W.E.B. DeBuis, James Baldwin, and other BIPOC to describe the constructs of this country that make it hard to live as a person of color, Lee grounds us in a way that is approachable and accessible to all people. While we can love this country, we can also critique it.
Lee also leverages her own personal experiences and deeply personal stories of her upbringing and education in predominately white spaces and more recent event in a country with a growing number of crimes committed against Asian Americans. She connects the harrowing stories of her parents growing up and living during the Korean War and the traumatic scars, sometimes unbeknownst to them, left behind and the signs of generational trauma left for Julia and those around her. She speaks of the dismissive teachers, colleagues, peers, and complete strangers that undermined her experience from grade school to adulthood and how that left her enraged but also empowered to keep fighting.
And something utterly refreshing? Lee continues to identify her own biases even today. She understands her need to better understand gender fluidity and decolonizing her mind. She understands that the work is not done, and it very well may never be done.
This is not only a memoir, but a study on race, gender, mental health, systemic racism, generation trauma, allyship, and so much more. It should be required reading. Pick this one up!
In Biting the Hand, Julia Lee uses her memoir as way to not only share her lived experience as an Asian American in the United States but also as a way to convey the anger, shame, and frustration that many people of color can feel in a country built on white supremacy.
Having lived a life where she was a child of Korean immigrants, a teenager during the LA riots, a graduate of both Princeton and Harvard, an English professor, a professor of Black literature, and a mother, I was immediately pulled into Lee's personal narrative.
Lee speaks on the rage and shame that she has felt living as a Korean American in the United States and the racist structures this country is built on, but also initiates a call to action in dismantling the systems of power that weren't made for people color while also giving ourselves grace throughout in order to avoid burnout and self hate when things don't go as planned.
Using the words of W.E.B. DeBuis, James Baldwin, and other BIPOC to describe the constructs of this country that make it hard to live as a person of color, Lee grounds us in a way that is approachable and accessible to all people. While we can love this country, we can also critique it.
Lee also leverages her own personal experiences and deeply personal stories of her upbringing and education in predominately white spaces and more recent event in a country with a growing number of crimes committed against Asian Americans. She connects the harrowing stories of her parents growing up and living during the Korean War and the traumatic scars, sometimes unbeknownst to them, left behind and the signs of generational trauma left for Julia and those around her. She speaks of the dismissive teachers, colleagues, peers, and complete strangers that undermined her experience from grade school to adulthood and how that left her enraged but also empowered to keep fighting.
And something utterly refreshing? Lee continues to identify her own biases even today. She understands her need to better understand gender fluidity and decolonizing her mind. She understands that the work is not done, and it very well may never be done.
This is not only a memoir, but a study on race, gender, mental health, systemic racism, generation trauma, allyship, and so much more. It should be required reading. Pick this one up!
June 18, 2024
Worth the many months wait. This is what a memoir is all about - Julia Lee doesn’t hold back. She is thought provoking and gives readers a healthy dose of discomfort - all the while exposing her own discomfort in certain spaces. She is searingly honest about her parents, her sister, and her extended family - the sign that a memoirist actually cares about self-examination and truth.
I learned so much from this work, and I hope that she fulfills her promise to continue to comment on the Asian American experience — especially in higher ed. The last couple hours were profoundly thought-provoking. This is the rare nonfiction book I didn’t want to end; leaving the audience wanting more is never a bad thing.
Perhaps it goes without saying that Julia Lee is a wonderful writer. But not all professors of writing can transcend the academic world. Julia Lee certainly surpassed my expectations.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ listened on audio - Lee is the reader.
I learned so much from this work, and I hope that she fulfills her promise to continue to comment on the Asian American experience — especially in higher ed. The last couple hours were profoundly thought-provoking. This is the rare nonfiction book I didn’t want to end; leaving the audience wanting more is never a bad thing.
Perhaps it goes without saying that Julia Lee is a wonderful writer. But not all professors of writing can transcend the academic world. Julia Lee certainly surpassed my expectations.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ listened on audio - Lee is the reader.
April 19, 2023
Warning, this one is going to be long so I’m just going to jump right into it.
Written in three parts, in BITING THE HAND Lee breaks down and examines her identity of being Korean American growing up in a world built on racial hierarchy.
In “Rage”, the author recounts her and her family’s trauma from the Korean War and the racism they encounter living in the U.S. And as Lee writes about how inherited trauma is passed down in nonverbal ways, I recognize too easily the markers of han (한) and more specifically to Korean women, hwa-byung (anger or fire disease). Both of which I can say I have inherited and often times, embodied without knowing why. The “hoarding of plastic bags and the aversion to waste” is one innocuous trait that I, and I believe most second-generation Korean-Americans, have inherited. But the inability to talk about our rage, trauma and grief is the more sinister and damaging trait that has been pervasive in my life.
Lee writes that her family, much like mine, came here to forget the war and to start over. Our families did not know about this country’s history, only acutely aware of their own. And therefore the 1992 LA Uprising became the “collision of two historical traumas”, of the Black Americans with centuries of oppression and of the Korean immigrants with centuries of subjugation. I was much younger than Lee then, but it affected me and my family in profound, life-changing ways, just the same. The entire chapter about 1992 LA Uprising was difficult for me to read, but a seamless segue into the second part of the book, “Shame.”
In “Shame”, Lee picks up where we left off in “Rage”—after Koreans became “hypervisible” during the LA Uprising and when Lee starts her undergraduate education at Princeton, a school that was “built upon whiteness in service of whiteness”. As Lee navigates her way past each gate propelling her closer to whiteness, she also feels incredible shame. And when she, borrowing from James Baldwin, argued that to be “an Asian person in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a state of shame almost all the time”, I couldn’t help nod in agreement. I can’t speak for the other Asian races, but in my Korean household, shame was so incredibly present in our everyday lives. Caught between Black and White America, the shame of being Asian, of being the model minority that was supposed to be successful and that never caused trouble, is absolutely real.
And finally in “Grace”, Lee proposes a reconciliation or at least a way towards one. To accept and move on, one must stop the cycle of intergenerational trauma. But, “how do we do do that when suffering and sacrifices are the only ways to demonstrate that love? How do we love our own children when a broken, traumatized love is the only love we have to give?” I wondered about the trauma of my parents and of their parents and their parents’ parents. I wondered about what I would pass down to my own children. How do we give ourselves, our parents, and each other grace so we can all be in this space together?
Reminiscent of MINOR FEELINGS, there is so much I resonated with this book. But if MINOR FEELINGS made this little girl inside me feel seen for the first time, this made me feel heard. Heard as an adult Korean American woman living in America. Heard as someone trying to figure out how to take up space and not apologize for it. Heard as someone trying to decolonize her mind. Lee and I are very different. We have led different lives at different times. But the shared experience of being born to immigrant Korean parents who expect perfection and living in LA as a Korean American girl is enough to evoke kinship for me.
I highly recommend this book if you are interested in memoirs that examine identity and race. And even if you don’t, I think you’d find this valuable.
.
Thank you to publisher for the ARC and finished copy. All opinions are my own.
Written in three parts, in BITING THE HAND Lee breaks down and examines her identity of being Korean American growing up in a world built on racial hierarchy.
In “Rage”, the author recounts her and her family’s trauma from the Korean War and the racism they encounter living in the U.S. And as Lee writes about how inherited trauma is passed down in nonverbal ways, I recognize too easily the markers of han (한) and more specifically to Korean women, hwa-byung (anger or fire disease). Both of which I can say I have inherited and often times, embodied without knowing why. The “hoarding of plastic bags and the aversion to waste” is one innocuous trait that I, and I believe most second-generation Korean-Americans, have inherited. But the inability to talk about our rage, trauma and grief is the more sinister and damaging trait that has been pervasive in my life.
Lee writes that her family, much like mine, came here to forget the war and to start over. Our families did not know about this country’s history, only acutely aware of their own. And therefore the 1992 LA Uprising became the “collision of two historical traumas”, of the Black Americans with centuries of oppression and of the Korean immigrants with centuries of subjugation. I was much younger than Lee then, but it affected me and my family in profound, life-changing ways, just the same. The entire chapter about 1992 LA Uprising was difficult for me to read, but a seamless segue into the second part of the book, “Shame.”
In “Shame”, Lee picks up where we left off in “Rage”—after Koreans became “hypervisible” during the LA Uprising and when Lee starts her undergraduate education at Princeton, a school that was “built upon whiteness in service of whiteness”. As Lee navigates her way past each gate propelling her closer to whiteness, she also feels incredible shame. And when she, borrowing from James Baldwin, argued that to be “an Asian person in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a state of shame almost all the time”, I couldn’t help nod in agreement. I can’t speak for the other Asian races, but in my Korean household, shame was so incredibly present in our everyday lives. Caught between Black and White America, the shame of being Asian, of being the model minority that was supposed to be successful and that never caused trouble, is absolutely real.
And finally in “Grace”, Lee proposes a reconciliation or at least a way towards one. To accept and move on, one must stop the cycle of intergenerational trauma. But, “how do we do do that when suffering and sacrifices are the only ways to demonstrate that love? How do we love our own children when a broken, traumatized love is the only love we have to give?” I wondered about the trauma of my parents and of their parents and their parents’ parents. I wondered about what I would pass down to my own children. How do we give ourselves, our parents, and each other grace so we can all be in this space together?
Reminiscent of MINOR FEELINGS, there is so much I resonated with this book. But if MINOR FEELINGS made this little girl inside me feel seen for the first time, this made me feel heard. Heard as an adult Korean American woman living in America. Heard as someone trying to figure out how to take up space and not apologize for it. Heard as someone trying to decolonize her mind. Lee and I are very different. We have led different lives at different times. But the shared experience of being born to immigrant Korean parents who expect perfection and living in LA as a Korean American girl is enough to evoke kinship for me.
I highly recommend this book if you are interested in memoirs that examine identity and race. And even if you don’t, I think you’d find this valuable.
.
Thank you to publisher for the ARC and finished copy. All opinions are my own.
May 3, 2023
"To live as a minoritized, nonwhite person in this country is to exist in a perpetual state of shame."
BITING THE HAND is a memoir of Julia Lee. Being a daughter of Korean immigrants and born in America, she grapples with assimilating into whiteness x accepting her cultural heritage. Lee deeply meditates on "Han" - an inheritance of loss and trauma that ensures and sometimes sabotages Korean people’s survival. My heart was heavy when reading about the reverberating legacy of war and colonization in her family and life, the origin of generational trauma.
Lee examines race and identity in all its rawness. Her righteous rage about being powerless, racial hierarchy, segregation culture and the cultivation of racial shame hit the nail on the head. As some experiences resonate with me, I felt validated. By not being submissive to the model minority myth, Lee offers valuable insights to someone who's been ambushed by model minority myth a whole life.
The author goes beyond and tackles on the anti-Black racism - this, I have to say, is an essential read and so much food for thought. From self-care to filial piety to motherhood, this is also a journey of healing. As a mother, I could recognize my own trauma and got emotional at some relatable parts (especially regarding my own flaws). Lee doesn't hold back at sharing about her family's history and Korean culture; the sections about save face and honoring parents are very similar to my own culture.
I devoured this book. I would highly pair BITING THE HAND with MINOR FEELINGS by Cathy Park Hong - the former is more palpable whereas the latter, ferocious. This is a must-read memoir that I will recommend to everyone.
[ I received a complimentary copy from the publisher - Henry Holt books . All opinions are my own ]
BITING THE HAND is a memoir of Julia Lee. Being a daughter of Korean immigrants and born in America, she grapples with assimilating into whiteness x accepting her cultural heritage. Lee deeply meditates on "Han" - an inheritance of loss and trauma that ensures and sometimes sabotages Korean people’s survival. My heart was heavy when reading about the reverberating legacy of war and colonization in her family and life, the origin of generational trauma.
Lee examines race and identity in all its rawness. Her righteous rage about being powerless, racial hierarchy, segregation culture and the cultivation of racial shame hit the nail on the head. As some experiences resonate with me, I felt validated. By not being submissive to the model minority myth, Lee offers valuable insights to someone who's been ambushed by model minority myth a whole life.
The author goes beyond and tackles on the anti-Black racism - this, I have to say, is an essential read and so much food for thought. From self-care to filial piety to motherhood, this is also a journey of healing. As a mother, I could recognize my own trauma and got emotional at some relatable parts (especially regarding my own flaws). Lee doesn't hold back at sharing about her family's history and Korean culture; the sections about save face and honoring parents are very similar to my own culture.
I devoured this book. I would highly pair BITING THE HAND with MINOR FEELINGS by Cathy Park Hong - the former is more palpable whereas the latter, ferocious. This is a must-read memoir that I will recommend to everyone.
[ I received a complimentary copy from the publisher - Henry Holt books . All opinions are my own ]
June 12, 2023
This was an insightful memoir where she recounts her own life and how various events reflect racial relations in the US, specifically how Asian Americans maneuver in that realm.
There is a general review of social analysis by various "great thinkers," such as W.E.B. Du Bois, James Baldwin, etc. These references are accessible while following an academic practice of making "citations." The writing itself is also accessible and at times, her meta-analysis almost simple.
I found her conclusion or resolution to be simplistic and unsatisfactory. She asserts that we Asian Americans can still have hope and that we can build more from empathy and from operating from outside the Black-white binary. What's missing for me is how do we garner or sustain hope and any positioning (imposed or claimed). It's philosophical rather than practical. It's a conceptual convenience, it seems. I think the wrap-up also lacks a certain energy or feeling when sending the reader back into the world, or into Black-white America. Where's the fire or the emotional charge?
This is more my thing: I am intrigued that she's an African Americanist instead of an Asian Americanist. And since she makes this point, it begs the question. It's not that she should or should not be one or the other type of Americanist. But I didn't see how she came to this in her memoir about race and racial positioning. Yes, she's been connected to Jamaica Kincaid and Skip Gates. And yes various BIPOC and especially African American academic communities have welcomed her and cared for her. And... how did all this lead her to choose her own "position" when there was a choice of sorts?
At one point, Lee acknowledges the difference between West Coast and East Coast Asian Americans. Two reactions immediately arise. Are there similar differences among other BIPOC groups? And would she have experienced a different racial reckoning (personally, professionally) if she had remained on the West Coast? I find the Black-white construct to be much more pronounced on the East Coast generally. And as such, Asian Americans there respond differently than their siblings or cousins on the West Coast.
Overall, I thought this was a good read and it provided lots of validation as well as spurred more thinking and reflection. I realized how Lee often is seeking credibility or expressing her position or stance by referring to other theorists and analysts in a dialectic structure. That is, she's reacting within a system and reifies it by doing so. It's a Catch 22.
Please see my numerous highlights.
There is a general review of social analysis by various "great thinkers," such as W.E.B. Du Bois, James Baldwin, etc. These references are accessible while following an academic practice of making "citations." The writing itself is also accessible and at times, her meta-analysis almost simple.
I found her conclusion or resolution to be simplistic and unsatisfactory. She asserts that we Asian Americans can still have hope and that we can build more from empathy and from operating from outside the Black-white binary. What's missing for me is how do we garner or sustain hope and any positioning (imposed or claimed). It's philosophical rather than practical. It's a conceptual convenience, it seems. I think the wrap-up also lacks a certain energy or feeling when sending the reader back into the world, or into Black-white America. Where's the fire or the emotional charge?
This is more my thing: I am intrigued that she's an African Americanist instead of an Asian Americanist. And since she makes this point, it begs the question. It's not that she should or should not be one or the other type of Americanist. But I didn't see how she came to this in her memoir about race and racial positioning. Yes, she's been connected to Jamaica Kincaid and Skip Gates. And yes various BIPOC and especially African American academic communities have welcomed her and cared for her. And... how did all this lead her to choose her own "position" when there was a choice of sorts?
At one point, Lee acknowledges the difference between West Coast and East Coast Asian Americans. Two reactions immediately arise. Are there similar differences among other BIPOC groups? And would she have experienced a different racial reckoning (personally, professionally) if she had remained on the West Coast? I find the Black-white construct to be much more pronounced on the East Coast generally. And as such, Asian Americans there respond differently than their siblings or cousins on the West Coast.
Overall, I thought this was a good read and it provided lots of validation as well as spurred more thinking and reflection. I realized how Lee often is seeking credibility or expressing her position or stance by referring to other theorists and analysts in a dialectic structure. That is, she's reacting within a system and reifies it by doing so. It's a Catch 22.
Please see my numerous highlights.
April 20, 2023
Biting The Hand is a blend of memoir and examination on race in America. As a Korean American woman who was raised by immigrant parents in Los Angeles she has her own perspective on how the U.S. has tackled the conversations around race. She uses her own past to point out pivotal moments she lived through (like the L.A. riots of 1993) but also smaller and more personal experiences like her years at Princeton and then academia.
I related to some chapters more than others (I thought the ones that covered mental health and parenting were especially well done) but I thought the author describing real people that she didn’t like as “paunchy”, “balding” or having a “bad facelift” made her come across as petty and low brow in a book that was supposed to be about so much more than physical appearances. I did like the story behind the title and what it means to be “biting the hand”.
Overall, Biting The Hand is a solid memoir and take down around the issue of race and identity in the United States.
3.5 stars
I related to some chapters more than others (I thought the ones that covered mental health and parenting were especially well done) but I thought the author describing real people that she didn’t like as “paunchy”, “balding” or having a “bad facelift” made her come across as petty and low brow in a book that was supposed to be about so much more than physical appearances. I did like the story behind the title and what it means to be “biting the hand”.
Overall, Biting The Hand is a solid memoir and take down around the issue of race and identity in the United States.
3.5 stars
April 15, 2023
As an Asian American woman similar in age to author Julia Lee, reading this book felt strangely cathartic. There's a lot packed into this deceptively short work, as it merges the boundaries between memoir, racial commentary, and race studies as a whole.
Julia Lee grew up in an area in LA that was predominantly Black; as the child of Korean immigrants, she watched as her parents struggled to raise her and her sister in a foreign country, all while realizing that the ways she was different from her peers and neighbors were innumerable, and many more than skin-deep. She herself that she was complicit in the dogma that many Asian families follow - work hard, keep your head down, go to a good (Ivy League) college, and be happy.
But... is that it? Julia looks back on her childhood, noting the the classicism she saw even as a child between races, the way money was the largest delimiter. She raises the looming issue of mental health, how poorly addressed and recognized it is in the Asian American community, and the underlying anxiety and depression that many struggle with. When discussing the simultaneous demeaning and fetishization of Asian women, she doesn't shy away from calling out the sheer absurdity of the situation. She also calls out her own flaws and misgivings, noting how her own generational trauma has been passed down to her daughter, something she tried her best to avoid doing. Despite being part of the "model minority" that has benefitted in the racial structure in America, Lee argues that it's not right to simply be silent - it's time to bite the hand that feeds us.
Growing up in a similar environment, there was so much in Lee's writing that rang true to me - and the issues and questions she raises are ones that need to be addressed at large.
Thank you Henry Holt and Co. for the advance copy of this novel!
Julia Lee grew up in an area in LA that was predominantly Black; as the child of Korean immigrants, she watched as her parents struggled to raise her and her sister in a foreign country, all while realizing that the ways she was different from her peers and neighbors were innumerable, and many more than skin-deep. She herself that she was complicit in the dogma that many Asian families follow - work hard, keep your head down, go to a good (Ivy League) college, and be happy.
But... is that it? Julia looks back on her childhood, noting the the classicism she saw even as a child between races, the way money was the largest delimiter. She raises the looming issue of mental health, how poorly addressed and recognized it is in the Asian American community, and the underlying anxiety and depression that many struggle with. When discussing the simultaneous demeaning and fetishization of Asian women, she doesn't shy away from calling out the sheer absurdity of the situation. She also calls out her own flaws and misgivings, noting how her own generational trauma has been passed down to her daughter, something she tried her best to avoid doing. Despite being part of the "model minority" that has benefitted in the racial structure in America, Lee argues that it's not right to simply be silent - it's time to bite the hand that feeds us.
Growing up in a similar environment, there was so much in Lee's writing that rang true to me - and the issues and questions she raises are ones that need to be addressed at large.
Thank you Henry Holt and Co. for the advance copy of this novel!
September 2, 2023
minor feelings was the first book that made me feel truly SEEN & righteous in my anger & in-between feelings of being asian in america — biting the hand gave me the same exact much-needed experience 💛
this was a seamless blend of personal experience & theory/statistics, making for such a rich reading experience. lee’s writing is incredibly readable & the memories, reflections, & emotions she shared were so relatable. her anger was refreshing & her narrative voice felt so authentic
her specific experience growing up korean during the la riots was really eye-opening. i appreciated how she grappled with competing narratives of being white-adjacent but still perpetually foreign, plus how this changed as she grew older & found herself in different exclusive white spaces
the more traditional nonfiction elements complemented her personal story so well & never felt dry or boring. her experience as an academic (although fraught & tumultuous) clearly showed & served her well in making this an equally readable & informative read
a great read to add to the growing collection of asian american memoirs making their way onto the scene
ty henry holt for the gifted arc!!
this was a seamless blend of personal experience & theory/statistics, making for such a rich reading experience. lee’s writing is incredibly readable & the memories, reflections, & emotions she shared were so relatable. her anger was refreshing & her narrative voice felt so authentic
her specific experience growing up korean during the la riots was really eye-opening. i appreciated how she grappled with competing narratives of being white-adjacent but still perpetually foreign, plus how this changed as she grew older & found herself in different exclusive white spaces
the more traditional nonfiction elements complemented her personal story so well & never felt dry or boring. her experience as an academic (although fraught & tumultuous) clearly showed & served her well in making this an equally readable & informative read
a great read to add to the growing collection of asian american memoirs making their way onto the scene
ty henry holt for the gifted arc!!
November 27, 2023
Best part of this book was certainly the Anita shoutout in the acknowledgments :)
Lee had interesting, thoughtful points based off of her lived experience; however this read slightly like a lecture to Gen-Xers… if you have any familiarity with tons of famous writers who’ve written about race in a substantial and impactful way (James Baldwin, Ocean Vuong, Toni Morrison, etc) who are all quoted in this book — and their quotes are really, really, lovely — this might not be as powerful for you.
Lee had interesting, thoughtful points based off of her lived experience; however this read slightly like a lecture to Gen-Xers… if you have any familiarity with tons of famous writers who’ve written about race in a substantial and impactful way (James Baldwin, Ocean Vuong, Toni Morrison, etc) who are all quoted in this book — and their quotes are really, really, lovely — this might not be as powerful for you.
April 3, 2023
”Confiding your experience in a friend, reading a similar experience in a book or magazine, taking a class with fellow people of color—all of these can make you feel less alone. Racial shame flourishes in a white supremacist system intent on separating people of color from one another. The best way to counteract it is to connect with those who have also felt its sting.”
“James Baldwin wrote, ‘I love America more than any other country in the world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.’ It would be easy to simply hate this country for its treatment of Indigenous people, Black people, people of color, immigrants, and many more. It would be easier to let its unspeakable acts be forgotten or internalized by its victims/survivors. It would be easier to walk away. Those of us who speak up do so out of a contradictory and masochistic love for this country. We do so because this country is worthy of critique. We do so because we want the country to see us as fully human.”
I could not put this book down. This is a phenomenal memoir. It’s a must-read, especially if you enjoyed Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning.
It’s honestly hard for me to describe and review this book because so much of it echoed my own thoughts and emotions as an Asian woman growing up in America. It felt as if the author directly transcribed many of my own feelings and reflections circling around in my brain onto the pages. This book was so validating, honest, fearlessly truthful, and wise. It was so healing and meaningful to read this memoir on race and decolonial anti-racism from an Asian American perspective.
Biting the Hand: Growing Up Asian in Black and white America centers the experiences of a Korean American woman. She writes of the rage specifically particular to existing and living as an Asian woman in America. How we’re expected to not speak up, stay quiet, make ourselves small, be grateful and don’t cause trouble. Just deal with the racist stereotypes, the dehumanizing treatment of the white gaze in daily interactions, Orientalism, “yellow fever” and fetishization, etc.
Anti-Asian racism is so rampant and commonplace, yet so normalized by society. Biting the Hand addresses these injustices and critiques America’s racial binary. Lee advocates for a wholehearted approach that is inclusive to all communities which are erased and intentionally forgotten. Black, Asian, Indigenous, Pacific Islander, Latine.
So much of Lee’s writing resonated deeply with me, especially the passages on being an “Angry Little Asian Girl” and the Korean concept of han, which she describes as a loose translation of suffering/memory that she links to historical and generational trauma. As an Asian American, understanding who we are means understanding our history as well.
This memoir is incredibly written and so is the author’s journey. She speaks of learning not to cater to the white gaze anymore, because she is not writing for whiteness or to pander to white audiences. Instead of striving to assimilate or make others see us as fully human, she talks about finding community with other women of color.
This too echoes my own experiences—I do not want to absorb whiteness or be absorbed into the system of whiteness. I am deinternalizing my inferiority complex to white America, and finding community and connection with my fellow women of color instead. I am holding space for my anger and rage because my anger is valid and comes from a place that loves me; and I’m not alone in these feelings.
“James Baldwin wrote, ‘I love America more than any other country in the world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.’ It would be easy to simply hate this country for its treatment of Indigenous people, Black people, people of color, immigrants, and many more. It would be easier to let its unspeakable acts be forgotten or internalized by its victims/survivors. It would be easier to walk away. Those of us who speak up do so out of a contradictory and masochistic love for this country. We do so because this country is worthy of critique. We do so because we want the country to see us as fully human.”
I could not put this book down. This is a phenomenal memoir. It’s a must-read, especially if you enjoyed Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning.
It’s honestly hard for me to describe and review this book because so much of it echoed my own thoughts and emotions as an Asian woman growing up in America. It felt as if the author directly transcribed many of my own feelings and reflections circling around in my brain onto the pages. This book was so validating, honest, fearlessly truthful, and wise. It was so healing and meaningful to read this memoir on race and decolonial anti-racism from an Asian American perspective.
Biting the Hand: Growing Up Asian in Black and white America centers the experiences of a Korean American woman. She writes of the rage specifically particular to existing and living as an Asian woman in America. How we’re expected to not speak up, stay quiet, make ourselves small, be grateful and don’t cause trouble. Just deal with the racist stereotypes, the dehumanizing treatment of the white gaze in daily interactions, Orientalism, “yellow fever” and fetishization, etc.
Anti-Asian racism is so rampant and commonplace, yet so normalized by society. Biting the Hand addresses these injustices and critiques America’s racial binary. Lee advocates for a wholehearted approach that is inclusive to all communities which are erased and intentionally forgotten. Black, Asian, Indigenous, Pacific Islander, Latine.
So much of Lee’s writing resonated deeply with me, especially the passages on being an “Angry Little Asian Girl” and the Korean concept of han, which she describes as a loose translation of suffering/memory that she links to historical and generational trauma. As an Asian American, understanding who we are means understanding our history as well.
This memoir is incredibly written and so is the author’s journey. She speaks of learning not to cater to the white gaze anymore, because she is not writing for whiteness or to pander to white audiences. Instead of striving to assimilate or make others see us as fully human, she talks about finding community with other women of color.
This too echoes my own experiences—I do not want to absorb whiteness or be absorbed into the system of whiteness. I am deinternalizing my inferiority complex to white America, and finding community and connection with my fellow women of color instead. I am holding space for my anger and rage because my anger is valid and comes from a place that loves me; and I’m not alone in these feelings.
May 13, 2025
This is a toughie. Have you ever read a book that, while technically good, you just didn't like? That's kind of how I felt about this one. Julia Lee has some really interesting perspectives and stories to impart here, but I just couldn't get past how much I disliked her as the main character/narrator of this memoir. I don't know how else to put it. I just don't find her to be a very enjoyable person. Which is a shame, because again, I do think what she has to say is worth hearing and I do think this book could resonate with a lot of people. It, and mostly Julia Lee, just didn't connect with me, unfortunately.
November 14, 2024
It turned out to be better than I thought. Everything including the kitchen sink is in here. Her pain and suffering spice it up from beginning to end and sprinkled all through are glimpses of her bravery, rage and compassion. It tells many stories and empathizes with many cultures. The common enemy gets some grace also. Brava Julia!
May 26, 2024
this book was the first piece of media that i ever felt like i was truly seen, and one that i feel i can relate to heavily. i think that in itself makes me want to give it five stars, loved it very much
January 1, 2025
Julia Lee, a second generation Korean American woman born and raised in Los Angeles, begins her book with telling the story of a racist microaggression she experienced as a PhD student. After the offense, she came into the classroom the next class wearing an “Angry Little Asian Girl” t-shirt (shoutout Lela Lee http://www.angrylittleasiangirl.com/).
This image of the angry little Asian girl becomes the guiding force of the memoir. Lee, now a professor of English and ethnic studies, talks about how that incident brought her back to being freshly 13 years old and freshly angry.
I found myself recalling something I haven’t thought about in years: when I was 15, I gave an impassioned presentation about the history of yellowface in English class. Many of my projects at that age involved a lot of well-meaning but disorganized outrage. (But didn’t everyone’s.) My white male American teacher gave me my first C.
As someone who spends most of my waking hours in the weeds of Asian American spaces in Los Angeles, it was a balm reading Julia Lee’s memoir and reconnecting with stories of how people arrive at this community and this identity. I’ve read a lot of creative and personal nonfiction - it’s my favorite genre - but I have never come as close to seeing myself in an author. I’ve never read something that offers such a glimpse into a person who I could be becoming.
Lee weaves through the personal, historical, and political - from her Korean parents’ war stories and store in a primarily Black neighborhood, her adolescence marked by racial reckoning, her journey through academia, to finally her own children in the present day.
Lee comes to paper and pen so unflinchingly. She is critical and exacting and full of righteous anger, but is still full of hope. Topics from her memoir that I appreciated, among many others:
- Asian America in the 90s - specifically as a Korean American in Los Angeles. Very insightful. The Asian American research center and press I work for just published an anthology of essays about the the 1992 Los Angeles Uprising (known colloquially as 4-29 “Sa-I-Gu” in Korean).
- The subtitle of the book - investigating the model minority, the “Black and white binary” and how Asian Americans are used as a wedge. I encounter these terms everyday working in academia but she manages to re-illuminate them for me in a refreshing & accessible light. Made me remember that when I was 18 I read Claire Jean Kim’s The Racial Triangulation of Asian Americans in an Asian American Studies classroom and it changed my life.
- How we become agents of white supremacy against ourselves, and dismantling the fetishization of suffering. We have suffered enough - we do not “owe” it to anyone to punish ourselves. I was interested in the Gen X perspective on generational difference and trauma - I am closer in age to Julia Lee’s children than I am to her, but we are of the same second generation / children of immigrant upbringing. After telling the stories of her parents and her own upbringing, she specifically reflected on her adolescent daughter’s neuroses and how her kids were now modeling the way she treated herself. The idea of internalizing and enacting structures of white supremacy onto yourself and even the ones you love - damn that hit me lol.
- Actionable commitment to intersectionality. Shoutout to the many quoted indigenous and Black authors in here. Also Grace Lee Boggs!
“Being an Asian person in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a state of shame almost all the time” .... Shit.
"This is why I so emphatically reject the notion of “paying your dues”, especially when it’s really code for tolerating [systems of] abuse. My children should not accept the unacceptable - they should not internalize that they are pieces of shit. They just feel entitled to humanity, to value themselves and each other. I am their ancestor, and I do not want them to suffer. I want them to heal." .... DAMN!
.... Anyway, I have much more to say, but for now, this book is a reminder of how much we all have left to grow. & that we are not obligated to repeat limiting old narratives - we can honor them, but rewrite and retell them for a new generation.
This image of the angry little Asian girl becomes the guiding force of the memoir. Lee, now a professor of English and ethnic studies, talks about how that incident brought her back to being freshly 13 years old and freshly angry.
I found myself recalling something I haven’t thought about in years: when I was 15, I gave an impassioned presentation about the history of yellowface in English class. Many of my projects at that age involved a lot of well-meaning but disorganized outrage. (But didn’t everyone’s.) My white male American teacher gave me my first C.
As someone who spends most of my waking hours in the weeds of Asian American spaces in Los Angeles, it was a balm reading Julia Lee’s memoir and reconnecting with stories of how people arrive at this community and this identity. I’ve read a lot of creative and personal nonfiction - it’s my favorite genre - but I have never come as close to seeing myself in an author. I’ve never read something that offers such a glimpse into a person who I could be becoming.
Lee weaves through the personal, historical, and political - from her Korean parents’ war stories and store in a primarily Black neighborhood, her adolescence marked by racial reckoning, her journey through academia, to finally her own children in the present day.
Lee comes to paper and pen so unflinchingly. She is critical and exacting and full of righteous anger, but is still full of hope. Topics from her memoir that I appreciated, among many others:
- Asian America in the 90s - specifically as a Korean American in Los Angeles. Very insightful. The Asian American research center and press I work for just published an anthology of essays about the the 1992 Los Angeles Uprising (known colloquially as 4-29 “Sa-I-Gu” in Korean).
- The subtitle of the book - investigating the model minority, the “Black and white binary” and how Asian Americans are used as a wedge. I encounter these terms everyday working in academia but she manages to re-illuminate them for me in a refreshing & accessible light. Made me remember that when I was 18 I read Claire Jean Kim’s The Racial Triangulation of Asian Americans in an Asian American Studies classroom and it changed my life.
- How we become agents of white supremacy against ourselves, and dismantling the fetishization of suffering. We have suffered enough - we do not “owe” it to anyone to punish ourselves. I was interested in the Gen X perspective on generational difference and trauma - I am closer in age to Julia Lee’s children than I am to her, but we are of the same second generation / children of immigrant upbringing. After telling the stories of her parents and her own upbringing, she specifically reflected on her adolescent daughter’s neuroses and how her kids were now modeling the way she treated herself. The idea of internalizing and enacting structures of white supremacy onto yourself and even the ones you love - damn that hit me lol.
- Actionable commitment to intersectionality. Shoutout to the many quoted indigenous and Black authors in here. Also Grace Lee Boggs!
“Being an Asian person in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a state of shame almost all the time” .... Shit.
"This is why I so emphatically reject the notion of “paying your dues”, especially when it’s really code for tolerating [systems of] abuse. My children should not accept the unacceptable - they should not internalize that they are pieces of shit. They just feel entitled to humanity, to value themselves and each other. I am their ancestor, and I do not want them to suffer. I want them to heal." .... DAMN!
.... Anyway, I have much more to say, but for now, this book is a reminder of how much we all have left to grow. & that we are not obligated to repeat limiting old narratives - we can honor them, but rewrite and retell them for a new generation.
May 7, 2024
Biting the hand is a timely and important audiobook. Dr. Julia Lee doesn't hold nothing back as she opens up about her parent’s trauma from the Korean War and continued struggle surviving in white America.
May 16, 2025
I swear I highlighted about half of this book, but every single passage that Julia Lee wrote was so relatable and enlightening. My whole life, through grade school and into my career, I’ve existed in predominantly white spaces, and I haven’t really questioned how that has affected me.
Lee is able to capture those feelings of “double consciousness” and the desire to pander to whiteness that every person of color living in America experiences. She also opens conversations around decentering whiteness by looking beyond the model minority myth and other racial stereotypes.
This book inspired me to reach out to my Asian American studies professor to share how integral he was in expanding my worldview and making me feel less isolated in my feelings of being an Asian American immigrant. I will definitely be exploring more of Julia Lee’s work and the authors she cites in the book—especially W.E.B. Du Bois.
5/5.
Lee is able to capture those feelings of “double consciousness” and the desire to pander to whiteness that every person of color living in America experiences. She also opens conversations around decentering whiteness by looking beyond the model minority myth and other racial stereotypes.
This book inspired me to reach out to my Asian American studies professor to share how integral he was in expanding my worldview and making me feel less isolated in my feelings of being an Asian American immigrant. I will definitely be exploring more of Julia Lee’s work and the authors she cites in the book—especially W.E.B. Du Bois.
5/5.
July 31, 2024
Oh this was good. It gave me lots to think about with my white peers and teachers telling me that the model minority was a compliment. Then my Asian classmates who called me too whitewashed. Then the anger I felt growing up at my parents. Then how my activism is intersectional with Black, Latinx, Indigenous, and LGBTQ+ communities, and how I wasn't taking up space when I went to NAACP or Mi Pueblo meetings.
I'm also glad that this book talked about mental health in the Asian American community - it's not tiger moms or cultural pressure to succeed that's killing up, but it's white supremacy. Also highlighting Black and Asian activism to uplift each other from literature to movements.
I'm also glad that this book talked about mental health in the Asian American community - it's not tiger moms or cultural pressure to succeed that's killing up, but it's white supremacy. Also highlighting Black and Asian activism to uplift each other from literature to movements.
November 10, 2023
really enjoyed this ⭐️ been in a huge reading slump bc teaching is hard lol
“James Baldwin wrote, "I love America more than any other country in the world, and, exactly for this reason, insist on the right to criticize her perpetually." It would be easy to simply hate this country for its treatment of Indigenous people, Black people, people of color, immigrants, and many more. It would be easier to let its unspeakable acts be forgotten or internalized by its victims/survivors. It would be easier to walk away.
Those of us who speak up do so out of a contradictory and masochistic love for this country. We do so because this country is worthy of critique. We do so because we want the country to see us as fully human.”
“James Baldwin wrote, "I love America more than any other country in the world, and, exactly for this reason, insist on the right to criticize her perpetually." It would be easy to simply hate this country for its treatment of Indigenous people, Black people, people of color, immigrants, and many more. It would be easier to let its unspeakable acts be forgotten or internalized by its victims/survivors. It would be easier to walk away.
Those of us who speak up do so out of a contradictory and masochistic love for this country. We do so because this country is worthy of critique. We do so because we want the country to see us as fully human.”
February 4, 2025
I read this book so fast because there were times when I could see myself in Julia. Being Asian American is not a monolith so I was intrigued to read about her upbringing in Koreatown in LA and how it differed from mine in the Midwest.
August 23, 2025
Reading this book at the right time
April 27, 2023
I adored this book. It was a memoir of a Korean woman growing up in America and there were so many parts that I could relate to. It is also one of the first novels that addresses the mental health crisis that Asian Americans are suffering from. We are the least likely to get mental help, so it is no surprise that the number one cause of death for the age group of 14-29 is suicide. She states, "I THINK my parents are proud of me". If you were not an Asian, you would find this shocking as she not only attended Princeton but ALSO Harvard...and is incredibly modest about this fact. She focuses more on her inability to blend into either one of these elite institutions. Her friendship and relationship with Jamaica Kincaid and Dr. Louis Gates gave me hope that there are good people out there who look out for others.
February 8, 2023
This is one of my favorite reads from 2022, and I cannot wait for it to be released in April (2023) so more people can read it. It was hard for me to put down. Admittedly, I thought this was titled, "Growing Up Asian AND Black in White America" when I first requested an advanced copy. As someone who is Black and Asian, I thought this was going to be a book I've been waiting for and highlight my unique, mixed-race experiences more intimately. While this was written about Asian Americans, so much of this book resonated with me. I still feel seen in these pages. She puts words to many of the feelings I've had or things I've experienced - how Asian women are made into sexual fetish objects, how we're taught to be quiet, stay small, work hard, and be grateful.
It's refreshing to see an Asian writer tackle anti-Blackness and white supremacy and also our collective humanity. Lee writes about the white gaze, microaggressions, internalized racism, and tackles the harmful “model minority” stereotype, or the belief that success among Asian Americans is universal. She writes about how it dangerously exacerbates interracial tension and does not acknowledge the socioeconomic disparities among the diverse range of communities categorized as Asian-American. The model minority myth perpetuates a myth that Asian Americans are not afflicted by racism and disregards a longstanding history of racially-motivated aggression and discrimination in policy against Asian Americans (e.g., L.A.’s 1871 Chinese Massacre, the Page Act of 1875, the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, Japanese Internment Camps). Lee highlights how "the threat of violence and retribution are constant, and...ensure that I continue to regulate my behavior, even when no one else is around."
Lee understands that racism has a cost for everyone. As she puts it, "white supremacy culture is scarcity culture. It relies on gatekeeping, shaming, and exclusion," it is a zero-sum game and our participation is "critical to the pyramid scheme of the American Dream."
As its title states, Lee has bitten the hand that fed her (parent, teacher, college, nation). Appreciating her upbringing doesn't mean she (or any of us) is eternally beholden to those who raised, educated, and governed her; "I'm not a horse who must be broken by its master into submission." She wrote that the greatest legacy she can leave her daughter is the ability for her daughter to decide for herself which traditions she wants to keep, what she wants to tweak, and finally, what she wants to create anew. "We, too, are America".
Many thanks to Henry Holt & Company, NetGalley, and Julia Lee for providing me with an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.
It's refreshing to see an Asian writer tackle anti-Blackness and white supremacy and also our collective humanity. Lee writes about the white gaze, microaggressions, internalized racism, and tackles the harmful “model minority” stereotype, or the belief that success among Asian Americans is universal. She writes about how it dangerously exacerbates interracial tension and does not acknowledge the socioeconomic disparities among the diverse range of communities categorized as Asian-American. The model minority myth perpetuates a myth that Asian Americans are not afflicted by racism and disregards a longstanding history of racially-motivated aggression and discrimination in policy against Asian Americans (e.g., L.A.’s 1871 Chinese Massacre, the Page Act of 1875, the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, Japanese Internment Camps). Lee highlights how "the threat of violence and retribution are constant, and...ensure that I continue to regulate my behavior, even when no one else is around."
Lee understands that racism has a cost for everyone. As she puts it, "white supremacy culture is scarcity culture. It relies on gatekeeping, shaming, and exclusion," it is a zero-sum game and our participation is "critical to the pyramid scheme of the American Dream."
As its title states, Lee has bitten the hand that fed her (parent, teacher, college, nation). Appreciating her upbringing doesn't mean she (or any of us) is eternally beholden to those who raised, educated, and governed her; "I'm not a horse who must be broken by its master into submission." She wrote that the greatest legacy she can leave her daughter is the ability for her daughter to decide for herself which traditions she wants to keep, what she wants to tweak, and finally, what she wants to create anew. "We, too, are America".
Many thanks to Henry Holt & Company, NetGalley, and Julia Lee for providing me with an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.
June 23, 2025
2.5 stars
Julia Lee describes her interpretation of Asian identity in bifurcated, Black and White America. The book is labeled a memoir, but I wouldn’t truly characterize it as such. Yes, Lee draws from her lived experiences as a 2nd generation Korean immigrant to bolster her thesis on resisting white supremacy in America; but in my opinion, she cherry picks stories in a way that leaves little room for nuance.
While reading the book, I felt quite frustrated at how black and white and monolithically Lee portrays race relations and identity. She attempts to say otherwise (many kinds of Asians exist, “just because we are skinfolk doesn’t mean we are kinfolk” blah blah blah). But in practice, the book unequivocally criticizes white people and leaves little room for grey area, of which all racial and identity discourse should be comprised.
For example, Lee goes to great lengths to describe the ethnic and class backgrounds of less-than-tertiary characters: burnt-out Asian and Black American colleagues, old classmates she describes as vapid and disingenuous. Every single white person is cast as a villain. And I get it, I’ve encountered confusing, asinine, and hurtful forms of racism. But only describing victimized accounts of interactions with white people is quite unintelligent. It renders her thesis so flat. “Racism is bad. White supremacy is bad. Fuck em.”
Writing about an Asian American experience can and should offer so much more nuance than what Lee presented. Of course, she is entitled to sharing her own experiences. I just didn’t resonate with them. When I think of my experience as an Asian American in bifurcated America, I think of my mixed race marriage with my white husband. I think of finding pockets of Asian community in a city which is called “diverse”, but is basically half black, half white. I think about filial obligation to an extended family overseas, and what it will mean to care for my parents as they age as an-only child.
There is so much that can be said about what it means to be Asian in America. Lee used so many words to communicate mostly Asian rage and Asian shame. Perhaps it’s because I don’t commiserate with these feelings that I came to resent her depiction of Asian experience. I really hated when she said that to be Asian American is to feel shame. Girl what. Cathy Park Hong waxed poetic about Asian shame a ton in “Minor Feelings”. I hated this in Park Hong’s book, and I hate it in Lee’s.
Ultimately, this book just didn’t do it for me. I wanted to like it more than I did. Granted, I experienced a different kind of upbringing and my family experienced a different kind of immigration story than Lee’s. So maybe this book just wasn’t intended for me.
Julia Lee describes her interpretation of Asian identity in bifurcated, Black and White America. The book is labeled a memoir, but I wouldn’t truly characterize it as such. Yes, Lee draws from her lived experiences as a 2nd generation Korean immigrant to bolster her thesis on resisting white supremacy in America; but in my opinion, she cherry picks stories in a way that leaves little room for nuance.
While reading the book, I felt quite frustrated at how black and white and monolithically Lee portrays race relations and identity. She attempts to say otherwise (many kinds of Asians exist, “just because we are skinfolk doesn’t mean we are kinfolk” blah blah blah). But in practice, the book unequivocally criticizes white people and leaves little room for grey area, of which all racial and identity discourse should be comprised.
For example, Lee goes to great lengths to describe the ethnic and class backgrounds of less-than-tertiary characters: burnt-out Asian and Black American colleagues, old classmates she describes as vapid and disingenuous. Every single white person is cast as a villain. And I get it, I’ve encountered confusing, asinine, and hurtful forms of racism. But only describing victimized accounts of interactions with white people is quite unintelligent. It renders her thesis so flat. “Racism is bad. White supremacy is bad. Fuck em.”
Writing about an Asian American experience can and should offer so much more nuance than what Lee presented. Of course, she is entitled to sharing her own experiences. I just didn’t resonate with them. When I think of my experience as an Asian American in bifurcated America, I think of my mixed race marriage with my white husband. I think of finding pockets of Asian community in a city which is called “diverse”, but is basically half black, half white. I think about filial obligation to an extended family overseas, and what it will mean to care for my parents as they age as an-only child.
There is so much that can be said about what it means to be Asian in America. Lee used so many words to communicate mostly Asian rage and Asian shame. Perhaps it’s because I don’t commiserate with these feelings that I came to resent her depiction of Asian experience. I really hated when she said that to be Asian American is to feel shame. Girl what. Cathy Park Hong waxed poetic about Asian shame a ton in “Minor Feelings”. I hated this in Park Hong’s book, and I hate it in Lee’s.
Ultimately, this book just didn’t do it for me. I wanted to like it more than I did. Granted, I experienced a different kind of upbringing and my family experienced a different kind of immigration story than Lee’s. So maybe this book just wasn’t intended for me.
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April 27, 2023She is angry. She's angry at her parents, their culture, US society, and where she fits in or if she should fit in and if so, where? Her anger is justified, and is probably why the book is named "Biting the Hand".
Usually when you hear/think about the topic of race in the US, you hear predominantly about White vs Black, Asian people and their cultures are rarely part of the conversation. I do appreciate that her uncertainty about being Asian vs American and her struggle to fit into a predetermined category, added another layer of heaviness to her experiences.
To me, she comes across flippant in describing some of the white people that she encountered though, like "my therapist was a white lady with a bad face-lift..." Was that necessary? Probably not. Was it fair? She has had people throughout her life who have disparaged her external appearance so maybe she feels justified returning the favor, IDK.
My purpose to reading her book is to listen and learn. It was hard at times and I felt slightly defensive in reaction to some of her statements but it's not my place to judge her but to listen and reflect. I hope that more people are able to share their experiences to help foster conversations about how we can see one another for our "human-ness" and learn to honor and celebrate our differences and similarities. "We, too, are America."
Usually when you hear/think about the topic of race in the US, you hear predominantly about White vs Black, Asian people and their cultures are rarely part of the conversation. I do appreciate that her uncertainty about being Asian vs American and her struggle to fit into a predetermined category, added another layer of heaviness to her experiences.
To me, she comes across flippant in describing some of the white people that she encountered though, like "my therapist was a white lady with a bad face-lift..." Was that necessary? Probably not. Was it fair? She has had people throughout her life who have disparaged her external appearance so maybe she feels justified returning the favor, IDK.
My purpose to reading her book is to listen and learn. It was hard at times and I felt slightly defensive in reaction to some of her statements but it's not my place to judge her but to listen and reflect. I hope that more people are able to share their experiences to help foster conversations about how we can see one another for our "human-ness" and learn to honor and celebrate our differences and similarities. "We, too, are America."
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