The ABG: A Label Built On Struggle
Written by Paulina Tep
When you hear the term “ABG,” you think of the Asian Baby Girl: she’s got bleached hair, wears heavy lashes, is obsessed with raves, and is a certified bobaholic. The ABG is the antithesis of Western society’s expectations of women: bold and sexy, not passive and dainty. While this is the widely accepted definition of an ABG, I have noticed a shift in how it is presented in recent years. Several other youth subcultures of the past decades have transitioned into a social media “aesthetic,” including the ABG. The ABG style is about visuals now and not culture.
My observation is that while the standard ABG definition more accurately describes the Asian American women of the 2010s who popularized this look, the ABGs of the 2020s have been “cleangirlified”. The 2020s ABGs carry on raving and drinking boba. Still, they have this softer look to them inspired by Douyin and ulzzang makeup tutorials, unlike their predecessors who donned a more fierce style with tattoos and smoky eyes. This shift is no surprise to me. The rise of ABGs can be seen in the 90s and 2000s in the Import Model scene and the rise of Asian-interest sororities, before being popularized online in the 2010s. The ABG label has gradually been redefined in the past decades. It isn’t just a modern TikTok trend.
The stereotypical ABGs we know today are not the original ABGs at all. “Asian Baby Girl” wasn’t even the original term– ABG originally stood for Asian Baby Gangster; they were mainly Southeast Asian, along with some East Asian women in the 80s and 90s who participated in gang activities.
The original ABGs were working class. East Coast gangs with connections to mainland triads started gaining prominence in NYC’s Chinatown during the 60s and West Coast gangs were built on refugees from war and genocide in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia in the 80s. The Southeast Asian refugees on the West Coast settled alongside low-income Black and Latino communities. Because of ongoing racial tensions between these communities in the 80s, the Southeast Asian youth joined in to protect their own, similar to all other ethnic gangs at the time. These gangs were male-dominated, with women having affiliations with them. They were the “1.5 Generation” – the refugees who came to America in their adolescent years.
Asian American women expressed this culture through their style. Their tattoos, makeup, and fashion were influenced by the Chola culture of the West Coast Chicanos, and the hip hop scene originated by African Americans. This style was seen as more “American” and can be argued as a form of cultural assimilation to an extent. While the original ABG style didn’t conform to the white-dominated Western view of Asian women, it did deviate from the mainland Asian culture. This proximity to Chicano and Black American culture was due to these communities’ similar socioeconomic status. Reflecting on this today, we see that racial differences are negligible in the face of a shared economic struggle. However, this discourse continues today.
Within the Asian American community, popular online discourse on ABGs is that East Asians are excluded from this label, and it only applies to Southeast Asian women. I disagree with the way we are framing this debate. First of all, a good number of East Asian women were
involved in these primarily Southeast Asian gang activities. East Asian women are not excluded from this history at all. Moreso, given the gang-affiliated origins of ABGs, they could come from any ethnicity if they were in proximity to such communities. Even with the socioeconomic disparity between Southeast Asian and East Asian American groups, we should not negate that a significant population of East Asian Americans lives in poverty, too. The ABG label pertains more to class than it does to ethnicity. If we were to gatekeep, Southeast Asian women from middle to upper-class backgrounds shouldn’t be applying the label to themselves as well. However, that is not my issue. I think the discourse on who gets to use the label is unnecessary, and we should be focusing more on understanding the history behind it.
Admittedly, I understand the frustrations of Southeast Asian women regarding the ABG label. The phenomenon of East Asians looking condescendingly upon Southeast Asians is not unknown. There is also a lack of Southeast Asian representation in popular culture. Some Southeast Asian women see the ABG label as something to reclaim, as it can be used to look down on them for not fitting the “model minority” expectation of Asian women. It is very stupid that we keep ourselves divided like this, rather than realizing that we are more alike to each other than we think we are.
I don’t think it’s an issue to make “ABG makeup” videos, or to embrace the style at all. Women everywhere deserve to have fun expressing themselves. I do think it is an issue, though, that we are refusing to appropriately educate ourselves on this topic. The history and discussion on the ABG label is a reflection of how we tend to divide ourselves by ethnicity instead of unite ourselves by class. We should use these discussions to look at the bigger problems instead of focusing on insignificant issues that will produce no impact.
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