Claudia from ‘The Baby-Sitter’s Club’: My Asian-American Role Model, Then, Now and 4-Eva 

Even though she didn’t have the words for it in the ’80s, our writer deeply felt how much representation mattered.

Growing up in the ’80s as a painfully shy and awkward girl, I didn’t feel like I mattered much or belonged anywhere. My parents had immigrated to Los Angeles from Hong Kong and Taiwan, respectively, and being a second generation Chinese-American girl was difficult for me. During the day, I’d try to fit in at an American school without many Asian faces, then I’d come home to a traditional Chinese household where only Mandarin and Cantonese were spoken. Without friends with immigrant parents or someone to help me navigate this cultural duality, I chose to disappear into the media of my generation.

I devoured teen magazines, bookmarking the exact Kissing Kooler lip gloss I had to have, and ripped out dreamy photos of Corey Haim. I begged my dad to rent Stand By Me every time we were at the video store. I recorded Casey Kasem’s America’s Top 10 and tried to copy all of Janet Jackson’s dance moves. I made my own little mix tapes of songs on the radio, waiting for the DJ to stop talking already so I could record the newest Madonna.

The ultimate escape, where I didn’t have to (God forbid) talk to anybody or listen to my parents argue, was books. I slipped into another world by reading as many as I could. I first discovered my love of books on my weekly trip to the local library with my mom. In the kid’s section, I gawked at all the “READ” posters on the wall featuring the Muppets or Yoda holding a book; I would obey their simple, one-word command and rush to the New Arrivals on the spinner rack. I’d relish choosing a stack of paperback novels, joke books, ghost stories, kid almanacs, anything I could get my little hands on. And the fact that I could bring them all home for free? It was such a wondrous concept to me, and I took full advantage by borrowing as many books as my mom would allow. 

When I grew a little older, I graduated to Middle Grade and Young Adult books like Sweet Valley High, Nancy Drew Files, and Point Horror novels by the likes of R.L. Stine and Christopher Pike. These books were portals, transporting me to a more exciting world outside of my sheltered, young life. I would voraciously consume them all, holed up in my room for hours, absorbed into the soapy world of Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield, or getting lost in Stine’s suspenseful realm with some hapless dude going on a deadly blind date. After I’d finished my little stack of books, instead of borrowing more from the library, I’d beg my dad to take me to B. Dalton bookstore at the Puente Hills Mall in our little Los Angeles suburb. Eager to keep me occupied and out of trouble, he was more than happy to oblige.

Reading was my preferred escape from the harsh realities of childhood. Why bother trying to make friends with mean girls when I could hide in the school library to read in peace? It’s true that kids can be cruel to each other, in any decade; but it really was a free-for-all in the ’80s. I was mercilessly picked on by my classmates for my appearance and my ethnicity, and as the diminutive slip of a girl that I was, I just had to take it. My almond-shaped eyes were deemed “too small.” My golden complexion was viewed as “too dark.” My cheap clothes from the swap meet were “uncool and weird.” And when they ran out of insults, there was always, “Why don’t you go back to China!” These barbed words, sharp and stinging like a hundred cuts from little knives, would only serve to do further damage to my already fragile sense of self-worth. I burrowed deeper into reading. Books could never hurt me.

There was only one thing wrong with my beloved books… Well, with all of pop culture media, really. I hardly ever saw any faces that looked like mine, and when I did, they were offensive stereotypes like Long Duk Dong, the clueless foreigner in Sixteen Candles, or Tracy Tzu, the exotic and submissive seductress in Year of the Dragon. Even treasured classic films weren’t safe; my dad loved old movies and it was always fun to watch them together. But when we watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s, seeing Mickey Rooney playing the Japanese caricature of Mr. Yunioshi filled me with shame and embarrassment. My dad with his stoic, tight-lipped demeanor was always silent, but I remember seeing the hurt etched in his eyes. It made me wonder: Was this how the rest of the world saw us? Was my Asian identity really a caricature to be mocked and ridiculed? 

But then in 1986, my whole world changed. I still remember going to the Scholastic book fair at school and seeing a book I had never heard of before: The Baby-Sitter’s Club. It was the first in the series, Kristy’s Great Idea, and the cover featured four girlfriends in this supposed club. But my gaze locked onto only one in particular: the Asian girl. After buying it with my book fair money allotted to me from my dad, I couldn’t get home and read it soon enough. I quickly found out she was Claudia Kishi, the Japanese-American Vice President of the Baby-Sitter’s Club. My tween self was utterly captivated. Here was this cool Asian girl wearing vibrant red and yellow overalls (signaling that she was no shrinking violet) and lounging lackadaisically at the foot of the bed, just gossiping with her gal pals. She was taking up space unapologetically and simply existing. I latched onto her immediately like my life depended on it…and in a lot of ways, it did. 

A few months later, the second book in the series, Claudia and the Phantom Phone Calls, was released, and the cover art has been indelibly seared into my brain ever since. Claudia, forever the trendsetter, is wearing a super stylish geometric print sweater with red tassel earrings. She’s pulling double duty by cradling the phone in the crook of her shoulder while carrying a toddler in her arms (later confirmed to be Kirsten Dunst as the book model!). A whole book cover, dedicated to this rad Asian girl? Clutching that book in my preteen hands, something in me shifted. I felt seen and validated, and somehow less alone in the world. 

From then on, I tried to get each Baby-Sitter’s Club book as they came out, always eager to read more on Claudia. I learned that she was spunky, stylish, and loved junk food (especially Doritos, my fave!). She was outspoken, rebellious, and always her messy self (her room was a complete disaster area, like mine!).

I now know that I craved representation, wanting to see myself reflected in the world at large; but as a pre-teen, I wasn’t able to fully articulate this, and why this fictitious character resonated so strongly. All I knew was that seeing this cool, artsy, and confident Asian-American girl in one of my favorite book series meant the absolute world to me. She was simply being herself with her bold presence and self-expression, never striving to fit someone else’s mold. Reading about Claudia was proof that I mattered too…and that it was okay to be a bit of a misfit, a weirdo, even. That if Claudia could walk through the world being utterly fearless and true to herself, then surely I could too. 

Since those gawky, awkward pre-teen years, it’s been a long road to self acceptance, to feeling like I have a place in this world. Yes, I still have bad days where those schoolyard taunts come back to haunt me. But with time, I’ve worked on myself enough to know being different from the cookie-cutter norm is an asset, and being Chinese-American is something to be proud of, not ashamed. As an Asian-American woman today, I feel less invisible in the pop culture landscape (although we can still do better: Asian-speaking characters only accounted for 16 percent in 2022’s top 100 films). 

Today we have awesome Asian women killing it in their respective fields, such as Academy Award-winning actress Michelle Yeoh and director Chloé Zhao, comedic and dramatic geniuses like Ali Wong and Greta Lee, and iconic musicians like Lisa from Blackpink, Olivia Rodrigo, and Karen O from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Representation matters so much, especially to a kid in their formative years, and it’s awe-inspiring to see the next generation having a more diverse range of personalities to look up to and admire.

Looking back now, I think Claudia had reflected a version of myself I never knew existed. Even though I was (and still am at heart) an introvert, Claudia’s courage pushed me to take baby steps outside of my comfort zone and express myself with a bit more confidence. I had always been creative and adventurous. I just needed a nudge to show everyone else. It started with wearing brighter, bolder clothes to feel more comfortable with being seen. Then, that same year, I worked up the nerve to enter my school’s essay contest—and won. Claudia had shaped my sense of what was possible, and gave me permission to take up more space in the world. All these years later, her pioneering spirit has inspired me to write a Young Adult horror/thriller novel with a tenacious Asian girl protagonist…and it takes place in the 1980s, of course! I remember I had loved The Baby-Sitter’s Club: Mysteries books starring Claudia, but I never forgot the complete lack of Asian girl characters in my beloved Young Adult Point Horror books. Now I’m writing the book I always wanted to read.

Sometimes our heroes can come from unlikely places, giving us some respite in an uncertain world. Mine just so happened to be a fictitious Asian girl who was never a stereotype; she was just always unabashedly herself. Even though I knew the character of Claudia wasn’t a “real” girl, I ultimately made her real. I internalized her creative spark and confidence as a lifeline, and I’ve tried to carry her moxie with me to this day…as well as her rad personal style! 

All these years later, not much has changed. I still live and breathe ’80s pop culture; I even have haters on social media saying it’s an unhealthy obsession. I’m still a voracious reader and book worm, even though I have a friend who tells me (jokingly?) that I buy too many books. I’m still shy and awkward sometimes, preferring to retreat into my own thoughts, especially in a crowd. Some folks may judge or be annoyed with my idiosyncrasies. All of this is OK…it’s fine, actually! This is me, unapologetically. I know Claudia would be proud.

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