Responses to Madame Butterfly from Members of the Asian Opera Alliance
What does Madame Butterfly mean to you?
Members of the Asian Opera Alliance share their thoughts on and experiences with the opera
Statement 1, Jacob Junbo Zhou
I think it's a great step SFO is taking by recognizing the issues and considering a change. I have been aware of the issues in Madama Butterfly or works " in the same template " like musical theater South Pacific, Miss Saigon. I don't have solutions, or a vision of how I could tell the stories differently. There are already not many shows left for Asian performers, but meanwhile, I do not want to reinforce the stereotypes about Asians by performing them in the old storytelling way. I may not be able to offer a challenging or constructive opinion/solution, but I'm glad to hear people are brainstorming solutions about these shows.
Statement 2, Yunah Lee
The opera Madama Butterfly was my career strategy. I began my operatic career by singing Italian lyric soprano roles, such as Mimi and Liu. According to my managers at the time, I quickly needed a star vehicle role. My European agent told me that I had no way to advance my career except by singing Liu and Butterfly. Although people warned me about being pigeonholed, I had no choice but to take on this Asian geisha role as my destiny.
My career was a blessing and a curse, revolving around this opera and the role of Cio Cio San. For the last 20 years, I was tightly trapped in this opera. I have lived in this opera and loved being the tragic heroine in this heartbreaking story.
About 5 years ago when the racism and typecasting of this opera became an issue, I prayed and hoped for a way to get out of this trap and expand my artistic horizons. My managers and I have been fighting to get roles that go beyond Nagasaki, Japan, which has been a true struggle.
When I first saw this opera with my mother back in my home country in the Far East, my mother was deeply moved by the story and identified with Butterfly’s struggles. The role of the mother and the impact of her absence on her children were on her mind as she faced challenges in her own marriage within a male-dominated society. Women’s position in marriage was inferior and wives’ rights were limited. Playing this role, I channel my mother and many women’s experiences. In my country, I witnessed many biracial children forced to conceal their identities, as being biracial was not advantageous until recently. While this opera is based on the historical reality of Western imperialism and cultural ignorance on both sides, at its core, it’s a story of misunderstood love. Two people with different expectations and understanding fall in love, and both become victims leaving their child motherless. Every character lives in the best way they know, and I embody this realistic story. I view this story like a painting in a museum, and I believe it does not promote or condone disrespectful treatment of women of different races. Rather, the story’s moral is the terrible mistake and consequences of the overused power of an immature man who believes in his racial superiority. In 1904, these two continents were largely unknown to each other.
With the current social sensitivity, we are expected to adjust the way we present this story. The appropriation of cultural symbols with excessive makeup is offensive to some people, while certain directors take the liberty to change the story’s tragic ending. I am not opposed to the new attempts as long as the original intention of the composer’s musical setting is preserved. We do not try to alter Picasso’s portraits of his muses although his lifestyle certainly could be questioned by the “me too” movement. It's concerning to witness certain individuals advocating for the removal of the opera Butterfly due to the challenges it poses in the present-day efforts towards rectifying racial inequality. The practical problem is the narrow-minded casting in opera in general, which affects the livelihood of otherwise successful Asian singers.
I am pro-colorblind casting in opera, recognizing that it differs from drama or film. The power of the music transcends the performer’s skin color or ethnicity, enabling this art form to create a narrative that speaks to the universal human experience, making it truly inclusive.
Addendum: I had mixed feelings when San Francisco Opera used my photo in a Butterfly costume on the banner in front of the War Memorial House for their Butterfly production a few years ago. I was not cast to sing in that production, but a non-Asian soprano was. Although it may have been a mere coincidence, I could not help but wonder how and why it happened.
Statement 3, Melody Tachibana King
Cio Cio San was the second lead role I was cast in. I was thrilled when I received the call that I was chosen for the role. It was my dream role, and I was able to embark on a great journey of self-discovery. I dove deep into why she made the decisions she made, how she felt, and what life was like back when the story took place. I took what I knew about Japanese culture and portrayed her the most authentic way I could.
A little about me, I grew up in both the US and Japan, but a large part of my childhood was spent in Japan. My mother is Japanese from Sapporo, and my father is Caucasian American from North Carolina. I prefer to call myself Japanese and American (as opposed to Japanese-American). Growing up in these two very different countries opened my eyes to see both sides and to be open to new ideas. As a child of an interracial couple in an international marriage, my parents made sure that I learned and celebrated both of my cultures. (I enjoy eating collards and grits, just as much as takikomi gohan). Because of this, I was able to bring what I knew about being Japanese, and the intricacies of interracial marriage that I saw in my parents to my understanding of the role. Another interesting parallel with Cio Cio San is that my Japanese family, although Christian, descended from Buddhism. My great-great-grandfather converted to Christianity and left the Buddhist temple he was to lead. In addition, my family is Bushi (Samurai warrior class, nobility) and therefore up until my grandfather’s generation (and a bit spilling over to my mother’s generation), life was very much kept with traditions of nobility. Having been raised in this family, there were customs and traditions that I took for granted (not realizing most Japanese households were not following these customs). Because of these parallels, I felt that it was right to bring my experiences as I portrayed Cio Cio San.
As I sang the words in Italian, in my mind I spoke in Japanese.
I embodied her movements, gestures and feelings. I wanted to do justice to women like Cio Cio San who made the decision to go against the grain, yet still honor their past. Japan is a country that has very strict customs and rituals. It can be as small as how to hold the chopsticks to as big as a ceremonial acceptance of an award. There are many social norms that are expected to be followed. To go against this, however small, can be seen as lazy, dishonest, unaware, or embarrassing. There is a word in Japanese “Ganko” which means “hardheaded”. I feel at times Cio Cio San brought her Ganko side with her into her decisions she made. Maybe some of her decisions were not the best, but she kept to her decisions. What I do find is that even though Cio Cio San went against the norm, she is respected and loved. I am aware of the many controversies surrounding this opera, however I wanted to share my experience performing the role and how I personally relate to Cio Cio San.
In closing, in Japanese we have a word “Ganbare” meaning “never ever give up”. I feel that there is a certain “Gambare” that is in Cio Cio San’s struggles. Even though we know it’s not the best outcome, and not the best decision from the start, we still want her to “Gambare”. This feeling of wanting her to keep trying, to never give up, I think is the essence of why Cio Cio San is so loved.
Statement 4, Jane Monari
As a Japanese-American opera singer, singing the role of Suzuki has given me many opportunities—to work with excellent colleagues, to sing beautiful music, to flex my dramatic muscles, and to connect with both my Japanese heritage and my Italian heritage.
On one hand, I don’t want to only be seen as my race. On the other hand, this is some of the only representation I have in this art form, and to take it away feels silencing. But still, I question whether this is actually representation. This story features a Japanese woman, but when it comes down to it, it was written by a white man and composed by a white man.
Whose narrative is this? We need stories told by us.
Many of the conflicted feelings I have about Madama Butterfly have to do with how the story is often treated on the Operatic stage. I have seen countless productions in which it is literally like going to a Halloween party where everyone has gotten dressed up in a bad racist costume.
At least at a Halloween party, people might think of it as a “joke”. In Opera however, people stick their noses in the air and insist that this is “high art”. That it is “important” and “artistic” and “beautiful” and that it “transcends race”. That their “high art” is more important than my humanity.
Their “high art” has never had other kids run up to them on the playground, pull the corners of their eyes to the side and yell “ching chong” or “chinese, japanese, chuck e. cheese.” Their “high art” has never had white men on the street muttering ”china doll” or “Ni Hao” at them as they walk past. Their “high art” has never had someone yell “go back where you came from” at them. Their “high art” does not acknowledge that hate crimes against Asian people have risen by over 300% since the start of the pandemic.
Art is important, and I mean, opera is great and all, but it’s not more important than hundreds of years of oppression brought by colonialism and the suffering of millions of people and cultures across the globe.
When I see this, it hurts me because, well, I look like what I look like, and I can’t take it off when I leave the theatre.
Madama Butterfly is a beautiful piece, and it has given me so much, but we need better ways of telling it.
Statement 5, Wei En Chan
Madame Butterfly was one of the first operas that I ever saw, and it showed me the power of this art form. To the young and impressionable me, it convinced me that opera was the apex of storytelling in its fullness of expression and its effectiveness in conveying all it had to say even though I did not understand a word of Italian.
So, I love opera, and I love Madame Butterfly, but after a decade as an industry professional, I have grown to feel uncomfortable with how this opera and its racial problems resonate with my feelings of unease and alienation in this industry.
As an East-Asian presenting singer specializing in baroque repertoire, where the leading characters are often Greek Gods or great heroes from European sources, comments I’ve received include “nothing against your singing, but we’ll never hire you because you’re not what we’re looking for”, “David in Saul is not Asian”, etc.... My path has been fortunate in that despite these kinds of opinions, I’ve managed to circumvent them by getting baroque roles in Asia, where it doesn’t seem as unlikely that the hero in the story could look like me. These experiences tell me there is a “politics of visual representation” in opera and this is the issue facing modern castings of Madame Butterfly.
I think in an environment where Asian singers aren’t considered for lead roles because their physical appearance is not the associated default, Madame Butterfly presents a unique space to counteract that reality. And it is one of the few operas circulating where the leads are supposed to be of East-Asian descent. As an opera which depends on telling its tragedy based on racial exploitation, Madame Butterfly is an opera that does not have the option of being transported to another racial paradigm. I do not think there will be a day where colorblind casting will be a reality, at least not within our lifetime, especially how opera as theatre plays with physical appearances that are crucial to telling a story. I think a large part of the issue that POC singers face is how the opera canon has not kept up with diversifying the stories it wishes to tell. And thus, we are left in the continued environment where the default canon for a professional opera singer is still a white-centric storyline.
I’ve seen some wonderfully creative successes with transporting where an opera is set, so that a racially diverse cast makes the best sense in casting. And that kind of creativity should be a welcome challenge and interest for our stage directors and dramaturges.
So, I think opera houses have to work doubly hard to ensure their work is not perpetrating and extending problematic issues of racism into the present and their future.
Statement 6, Nina Yoshida Nelsen
I am a fourth-generation Japanese American woman, born and raised in Southern California. Growing up, I identified as “Californian” or “Santa Barbarian.” I identified as a musician, a singer, a daughter and a sister. One thing I did not identify as was Japanese. You see, my Japanese American grandparents were incarcerated during WWII. Their lives and futures were taken from them as teenagers. They were born in the US, taken from their homes, where they lost everything, and sent to a prison camp in the Arizona desert for 3 years…just because they had relatives who were born in Japan. Upon returning to Los Angeles after the war, they did everything they could to assimilate. They stopped speaking Japanese, they gave their children American names, and they did not pass down much, if any, Japanese culture.
By the time my father and mother had me, we were all very far removed from what it meant to be Japanese. That was, until I became an opera singer.
Very early in my career I was given my first opportunity to sing Suzuki in Madama Butterfly. I remember being so very excited to have this debut. I also look back now and realize that I should have listened to my coach a little more intently when she said “Are you sure you want to take this role? Once you do, you’ll be typecast into it forever.” I was naive, thinking there was no way Suzuki would be the only thing I would sing in my career.
By the time I sang in my second or third production, I realized that I needed to figure out what it meant to “be Japanese.” It was the way everybody else saw me, but I didn’t see myself that way. I asked my Japanese colleagues about movement, culture, and Japanese history. I read books and watched movies, immersing myself in all things Japanese. Since that very first performance, I’ve done well over 150 more. Suzuki has been my best friend for many years.
During the pandemic, amid all the violence against Asians, we started to see opera companies post on social media supporting their “Asian colleagues.” With these posts, there were photos of Asian singers on stages. I started to realize that the typecasting I knew in my own career went further than just me. It was happening to most female Asian singers. We were being hired to sing Butterfly, and little else. It was because of this realization that I founded the Asian Opera Alliance. In the alliance we advocate for Asians in our industry while striving for broader equity. We discourage the pigeonholing of Asian singers into solely Asian roles, and we encourage the diversification of all aspects of our industry—not just on the stage.
I’ve often wondered what would have happened if I took “Yoshida” out of my name and had just been known as Nina Nelsen. Would my career have had a different trajectory? Would people have seen me more ethnically ambiguous? After all, I’m only half-Asian. Would I be where I am today? Honestly, there’s no way to know what would have happened if I was not Nina Yoshida Nelsen. This has been my path. It has been more rewarding than heartbreaking. It has given me purpose and opportunity to help others. It has taught me to look deeper than what one looks like, and it has provided me with some pretty incredible life experiences.
So, when I’m asked the question “What does Butterfly mean to me?” I answer, “It’s very complicated.” Because of Butterfly, I’ve been hired because of the way I look, not sound. I’ve had little opportunity to sing non-Asian roles (I only sang 3 non-Asian roles in the span of 10 years.) And I have been put into a box that has been pretty hard to escape. But it’s also because of Butterfly that I have been given the gift of life-long friendships. I’ve learned about a culture and history that was long forgotten in my family. I’ve performed with my son on stage as Dolore. I’ve traveled the world and I’ve created a name for myself. Without Butterfly, I’m honestly not sure where I would be.
My relationship with Butterfly is also beautiful. I regularly stand in rehearsals and think how thankful I am that it’s THIS opera that I’ve been pigeonholed into, because the music is so incredibly stunning, and the story is so incredibly heartbreaking.
If told authentically, with correct historical knowledge and context of Japanese culture and society, it does not have to be seen as an offensive story. It CAN be a story about humanity. About life, and love. About loss and honor and about beauty and grace…and in my experience, a complicated relationship with Butterfly is okay.
Asian Opera Alliance Members & Contributors
Jacob Junbo Zhou
Yunah Lee
Melody Tachibana King
Jane Monari
Wei En Chan
Nina Yoshida Nelsen