I held the written word in high esteem when I was a young reader. However, this reverence sometimes made me excessively trusting. I long assumed that if something was written in a book, it had to be true.
Books, however, are as fallible as the authors who pen them. This realization dawned on me early in the process of crafting my debut book, Not Your China Doll: The Wild and Shimmering Life of Anna May Wong.
I must confess, I embarked on this journey as an unwitting biographer. The term “biography” seemed reserved for presidents, war heroes, inventors, businessmen, philosophers, and spiritual leaders—predominantly men. The label of “biographer” typically evoked names like Robert Caro, Jon Meacham, and Walter Isaacson, renowned for their bestselling historical works.
The reality is, the realm of biographies is predominantly male-centric. In 2016, Slate analyzed 614 trade books published in 2015. Among those categorized as biographies, over two-thirds were authored by men.
Acknowledging the gender disparity in genres like history and biography is one thing. Understanding how the absence of female perspectives impacts historical narratives is another challenge altogether. It requires recognizing the unexplored threads and overlooked aspects that shape our understanding of history.
I chuckled knowingly as I delved into Alexis Coe’s bestseller, You Never Forget Your First, a biography of George Washington. Coe boldly highlights the “male skew” in historical narratives, critiquing the fixation of male biographers on Washington’s masculinity and physical attributes, like his “muscular thighs.”
Coe aptly coins the term “the Thigh Men” to describe these biographers. Their singular focus on Washington’s masculinity overlooks crucial aspects of his life and perpetuates debunked myths, such as the tale of his wooden teeth.
The dominance of men in the field of biography is a longstanding trend. Annette Gordon-Reed revolutionized the landscape of presidential biographies with her groundbreaking work, Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings: An American Controversy, in 1997. Her research shed light on the affair between Thomas Jefferson and an enslaved woman, challenging previous historians’ denials.
Similar to Alexis Coe and Annette Gordon-Reed, my exploration of Anna May Wong’s biographies revealed a fixation on her sexuality, alcoholism, and marital status. These narratives often painted Wong as a tragic figure, a portrayal I sought to counter.
As a Chinese American woman with mixed heritage, I viewed Wong as a symbol of my culture and family’s immigrant struggles. My goal in documenting Wong’s life was to reclaim her narrative for Asian American women like myself.
While I am not the first woman to write about Wong, my perspective offered unique insights. By debunking myths, unearthing overlooked sources, and engaging with Wong’s family and female researchers, I aimed to present a more holistic portrayal.
A female biographer, like her male counterpart, is not without flaws. However, our distinct perspectives can significantly influence the narrative we weave based on our biases.
One enduring rumor surrounding Anna May Wong is her alleged romantic involvement with Marlene Dietrich, fueled by speculations from past biographers. Through meticulous research, I debunked this myth, revealing their relationship as professional rather than romantic.
Investigating Wong’s interactions with Frank Dorn, an American military attaché in China, further exemplified the importance of thorough research. Contrary to rumors of a romantic liaison, Dorn’s accounts portrayed Wong as a charismatic figure who captivated men but consciously chose to remain single.
My research journey also unraveled the complexities of Wong’s casting struggles in MGM’s film The Good Earth. Despite being denied the lead role due to racial biases, Wong’s resilience and strategic decisions reshaped Hollywood’s perception of her.
In conclusion, my five-year immersion in Anna May Wong’s world taught me invaluable lessons about biographical storytelling. It underscored the inherent subjectivity in interpreting facts and the impact of gender biases on narrative construction. Not Your China Doll represents my endeavor to present Wong’s life through a distinct female lens.
Katie Gee Salisbury’s book, Not Your China Doll: The Wild and Shimmering Life of Anna May Wong, is now available from Dutton.