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If one had to pantomime Oriental deference on the Western stage, one would be hard pressed to find a gesture better suited to this work than the bow. A pose so iconically Asian, the bow appears only to enhance the yellowface persona that the comedienne, Margaret Cho, throws on with her other accessories - the affected accent, the mincing steps, and the reference to a "host family" - all to suggest that the domestic civility of her prospective in-laws - their being overly "nice" - casts her own relationship to them in a global light, one of international exchange following a particular model, that of white-ethnic families' sponsoring Asian foreign students.

As Cho deploys it, the bow - a civil gesture - hides an aggression, or more accurately, it makes apparent an aggression, an uneven relation of racialized power between whites and yellows, between races defined by distinct interpellation in relations of production (labor) and exchange (capitalist consumption). Prior to her actual visit to Sarasota, Cho anticipates another kind of social interaction more transparently revelatory of the racial disjunctures and spatial segregation operating historically between people of color and whites in the United States: "I asked [my boyfriend], 'Are there gonna be any Asian people there [in Sarasota]?' And he was like, 'No.' And I said, 'Okay. . . . Could you just drop me off at the dry cleaner then? [beat] Cause I don't want to be the only one.'" Through such historical references, Cho pokes fun at those who would view the bow as merely an Oriental flourish. To see Cho's mimicry of Asian obedience as the mere staging of quaint international differences - bowing versus hand-shaking - rather than historical racial relations is to adopt a view that the artist would surely call "too nice," made possible only through the repression of historical memory, and a deliberate ignorance of prior performative references.

The Chippendale dancers are gay. [beat] They're gay. You know why? Because there is no such thing as a straight man with a visible abdominal muscle. Doesn't exist. You need to suck cock [Cho bends slowly over] to get that kind of muscle definition.

In my examination of Cho's comedy act and her memoir, both entitled I'm the One that I Want, I take up the literal site of performance (the bare stage) as a space of assemblages, as a platform for revealing the body's leakage - its infirm boundaries and borders as well as its embeddedness in histories of migration. I use migration, here, to refer both to expulsions across national borders (for instance, Cho's father is deported from America just three days after his wife gives birth) as well as to the more mundane vagrancy of stand-up performers who, with the rise of comedy chains in the 1980s, travel the national circuit as "road warriors" (Borns, Stebbins). Relief from the life on the road prompts Cho to develop a situation comedy for television broadcast, a comedy not only sporting the ubiquitous living room interior (carry-over from naturalist theater) but also incapable, ultimately, of simulating a homespace for "alien" Asians within the white world of television. My argument, however, is not that Cho is unable to find a home through Hollywood development but that home, itself, has become unsettled, revealed as a spatial arrangement whose ideality rests on imprisonment. 041b061a72