I had my first taste of raving at the Illenium concert this September. The flashing lights, pounding bass and unadulterated excitement in the air culminated in a massive sensory overload — but in the best way possible. For the first time in my life I felt euphoria, which is a sensation that had eluded me for 18 years.
After the concert, I was hyper aware of the fact that I was spiraling. This was more than a simple case of post-concert depression. In all of its literal chaos, the rave was able to soothe over my social anxieties, particularly those related to fitting in. That evening, I was just another headbanger enjoying the music with no need to justify — nor make sense of — my presence.
In my naiveté, I really thought the experience was one-dimensional. It felt incredible because it was a Friday evening full of great music and people I love — and to think about it as just entertainment is valid. Yet my inability to access that same relief prompted me to reflect upon how I came to that split-second decision to attend.
The core socialization processes of Asian Americans is pivotal to understanding our participation in raves and EDM festivals. First of all, microaggressions such as, “no, where are you really from?” painfully reaffirm our prescribed status as perpetual foreigners, which Judy Soojin Park writes about in her essay, “Searching for a Cultural Home: Asian American Youth in the EDM Festival Scene.”
Repeatedly getting denied recognition that we, too, are real Americans has sent us clambering for a physical third space — when, really, we have the right to be situated in existing structures.
Historically, raves have provided marginalized groups with alternative spaces to escape cultural repression and harsh realities of inequality. With this as context, it appears natural that Asian Americans flock to raves. It is a cultural scene that supposedly “provides an alternative reality of belonging and acceptance,” Park writes. Our belongings may also be amplified by the PLUR ideology (Peace, Love, Unity, Respect) which supports the idea that “EDM festivals are free from identity-based boundaries.”
I think we’ve deluded ourselves into believing a neat story in which racial justice has won. I struggle to believe that PLUR’s promise of egalitarian utopia is little more than a platitude. As the privileged racial minority and non-majority participants in the rave scene, I think we have a responsibility to think about how we’re negotiating this identity-politics “erasure.”
So beyond the sense of belonging, why do Asian Americans seek out this space? On the one hand, it’s to receive cultural citizenship — this informal contract provides its recipients with social capital within the existing societal structure. This capital is generally in relation to middle-class whiteness.
Participation in raves is the chance to assimilate into whiteness, even if that whiteness is defined by social outcasts. Therefore by participating, we tradeoff our ability to renegotiate our subjectivities for something that has been constructed as desirable. This is such an abrupt departure from the contemporary conversation surrounding Asian-Americans. If the underlying premise of raving is “fitting in,” I see no way to bridge the gap between our actions and our activism.
Raves do provide us with a momentary escape from our identities, especially the facets that have been decided for us by the rest of society. We are free from the restraint of overbearing parents, a discourse that has become integral to our understandings of being Asian-American. But who has decided on that discourse? Not us.
Now I’m not proposing that you stop going to raves altogether. I enjoy them as well; there are few other situations where I’d be okay with practically going deaf. However, I am asking that you consider the nuances of your participation, and, if that reinforces the whiteness of cultural scenes. The U.S. is supposedly a country of immigrants and our cultural scene should reflect that.
