Oh, so you’re a “SoCal Asian”? Let me guess — you like raves, boba, Keshi, Valorant and [insert tired stereotype here.] 

Fellow chronically online Asian Americans have seen videos along these lines pop up on TikTok or Instagram Reels one too many times. Often featuring the text, “POV: You’re on your 500th date with a SoCal Asian guy,” these skits echo the same few popular activities or interests that many Asian American people — especially in the Los Angeles and Orange County area — enjoy. The first few videos were (maybe) funny, but when does poking fun at your own community go too far?

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To answer this question, there’s only one person for the job: Eric Ou, also known as the “SoCal Asian Guy.” Ou, a sophomore majoring in behavioral economics and psychology, has amassed more than 169,000 followers on TikTok and 80,000 on Instagram. He posts “monologue” style videos about college life as well as the occasional skit leaning into Asian American tropes. Those few skits, however, solidified Ou’s online label as the representative “SoCal Asian Guy.” 

“I didn’t sign up for this image, and I also didn’t sign up to be grouped in with the people that are in this image,” Ou said. 

It goes without saying that there isn’t anything wrong with enjoying a good jasmine milk tea or listening to Knock2, but reducing the wide and diverse Asian American community to those things is questionable. It perpetuates the harmful idea that the Asian American community is a monolith — a monolith that only likes listening to electronic dance music and wearing Stüssy.

The “SoCal Asian” image sometimes takes on the tone of: If you didn’t go to ILLENIUM or you’ve never been to Seaside Donuts Bakery, are you even Asian? It’s reminiscent of online discourse earlier this year about the “SoCal Asian superiority complex,” which argued that Asian Americans from large Asian neighborhoods in Southern California often look down upon Asians from predominantly white states outside of California because they may not have the same cultural knowledge.

These skits also tend to feature East Asians and exclude Southeast and South Asian Americans. When Southeast Asians are included in the conversation, it’s only to paint them in a negative light. Vietnamese women and men are often called the “most toxic type of Asian” by other members of the Asian American community. 

Terms like “ABG” — Asian Baby Girl — and “ABB” — Asian Baby Boy — are historically associated with Southeast Asian Americans, but are thrown around in videos following these trends, as if they are synonymous with just being Asian. 

“It’s from our own people, in a sense, because every time they see a confident Asian girl or Asian guy, they’re immediately labeled an ABB or ABG,” Ou said. “People just aren’t used to confident Asians.” 

Asian Americans inflicting stereotypes on their own identity group has concerning implications. While self-deprecating jokes about your identity tend to be relatively harmless, with a social media trend as widespread as “SoCal Asian” TikTok, it’s bound to start reaching other communities and entering the collective consciousness about Asian American culture.

As a content creator himself, Ou said these other creators are probably just trying to chase the “dopamine rush” of going viral. 

“The creators who are making it know how demeaning it is,” Ou said. “They’re letting people laugh at them. They’re letting people call them cringe, letting people hate on them. I just think it’s incredibly weird.” 

At the end of the day, these skits are plain unfunny and unoriginal. Sure, maybe Paul Choi from Irvine, California isn’t singlehandedly ruining the Asian American community — but dude, find a different bit. It’s honestly embarrassing to see five million variations of the same video over and over again. 

“Their content is so lazy to the point where they have no respect for the art of it, and they have no respect for their people as well to make good content,” Ou said. “It’s also hurting the other Asian creators like myself, who are now just being lumped into the group.”

Again, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with liking raves and listening to Keshi. But if that’s the magnum opus of your Asian American identity, you may want to look inward and reconnect with deeper aspects of your culture.