But the new stereotype says they've suddenly made it in this country. Proponents of this view are quick to point out that as a group, Asian-Americans have a higher median income level than any other group.

But this statistic is more misleading than helpful. Since Asian-Americans tend to live in large urban areas, their incomes and costs of living will naturally be higher. When income levels are compared by region, those of Asian-Americans are actually below those of white families. This statistic also shows income per family, obscuring the fact that more Asian-American family members have to work to eke out the same income as other families. Finally, these statistics fail to show the higher amount of education needed to reach the same personal income level as whites.

Even though a greater percentage of Asian-Americans than whites live in poverty, the model minority stereotype seems to say that Asian-Americans do not need any public policies designed to help them. It makes other minority groups who have not reached such a high socioeconomic status appear as if they alone are to blame for their situation. And it obscures the fact that Asian-Americans still face a "glass ceiling," barring them from management positions and certain occupations.

But besides its basic untruth, the most dangerous aspect of this image of success is that Asian-Americans themselves have begun to believe it.

Once internalized, the stereotype adds to our political silence, telling us there's no reason to get involved. If we keep working hard at what we're doing, its says, everything will turn out okay.

There is no doubt that many Asian-Americans have been very economically successful. But success in our private lives and businesses too often functions as a form of amnesia, making us forget persistent problems in the public sphere. No matter how hard we work and try to assimilate, Asian-Americans remain victims of hateful and racial violence.

Discrimination, although not as blatant as it was during World War II, continues to plague our community. Last spring, the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights warned about the increasing number of anti-Japanese and anti-Asian hate crimes in this country. The report warned political and business leaders that these crimes were not unrelated to racebaiting campaign rhetoric that blames Japan for America's economic woes.

A well-known incident of such racial scapegoating occurred in 1982, when Vincent Chine, a Chinese-American, was murdered by a white auto worker who thought he was Japanese. Asian-Americans are tired of being mistrusted, accused and sometimes physically injured for "stealing" jobs that supposedly belong to American workers.

But even as these problems persist, Renee Tajima '80, the Japanese-American director of a documentary about the Chin murder, warns that Asian-Americans have become increasingly insular, ignoring the communities most likely to encounter such prejudice.

Especially at Harvard, where students are saturated with the ethic of success, it is easy to forget the growing diversity of the Asian-American community. This community--like America as whole--is increasingly becoming one of recent immigrants, be they refugees from Vietnam or poor store owners from Korea. These Asian-American groups whom we keep at arms length bear the brunt of prejudice that all Asian-Americans face in some way.

And second-generation Asian-Americans--often the ones who have "made it"--forget the humiliation suffered by their parents as they tried to fit in, learn the language and "dress American." They forget the surprise people still express when they hear how well we speak English. "Wow, you were born here?"

Philip Kan Gotanda, a well-known Japanese-American playwright, writes that the prejudice Asian-Americans face is more subtle than that facing Blacks and Latinos. Particularly now, he said in a recent interview in the Los Angeles Times, Asian-Americans are left out of the mainstream culture. They are in a "double bind" where they are cast as "'insidious' at the same time there's this feeling of knowing them. You get the worst of both worlds."

This explains the difficulty Asian-American actors have had in trying to break through stereotypical roles like "Long Duck Dong" in Sixteen Candles. And when Asian-Americans aren't portrayed as geeky and insipid, they're cast as mysterious experts at Kung Fu.

The stereotypes could be a lot worse. Rep. Robert Matsui (D-Calif.) says that nowadays, one's "Asianness" can be a political advantage, as long as the negative parts of the stereotype are downplayed. "Not looking like a politician is a major asset," he adds.

This doesn't mean Asian-Americans should run on platforms openly proclaiming themselves beacons for the Asian-American community. Since Asian-Americans often constitute less than two percent of a given district--including the ones represented by Matsui and Norman Mineta (D-Calif.)--that would be politically fatal.