Maybe *not so* happy ending…

Welcome to my blog; a space born from the immediate need to explore and share my reflections on the recent casting choice for Broadway’s Maybe Happy Ending. This space will serve as a place to unpack my thoughts about theater and its evolving landscape. Join me as I delve into the details and confront the broader implications it holds for the world of Broadway.

For those who know my work, it seems more than appropriate for me to add my voice to the collective dialogue regarding AAPI representation. (For those who don’t know my work, hop over to my published works page.) However, I have dragged my feet in getting to know the players and problems of this situation merely because…I’m exhausted. As if there aren’t enough injustices presently in the world, I now have to shift my focus on yet another poor decision made from industry leaders and put in the emotional labor of redefining erasure and ceaselessly fighting for representation.

It’s exhausting and it’s not fun.

But here I am, because I will always continue to fight the good fight; even if I have to crawl my way there.

For contextual background, you may dig into the already-saturated coverage of the current situation: New York Times, Vulture, Washington Post, Variety, Deadline. And of course, the writers’ official response to the controversy on Instagram.

MHE is a musical set in Korea that was originally promoted as an AAPI-led production; a musical set in Asia, told by AAPI talent. The controversy is that a non-Asian actor (conveniently, the real-life partner of the current Asian lead of the show) has been cast to take over the lead role. This has caused significant backlash, confusion, and disappointment.

What is wrong with the new casting choice?

The show’s initial messaging leaned on the ethnicity and culture of their actors to promote its uniqueness and value, but the MHE team has more recently claimed the story is “universal” and that any actor of any ethnicity can portray the characters. What the production fails to acknowledge is that the decision to cast Andrew Barth Feldman negatively impacts the AAPI community, seemingly retracting their previous statements about the show and undermining the community’s trust.

Setting a story in Korea, a country from which marginalized Americans have come, requires the nuanced understanding that an underrepresented culture is present. Denying the opportunity to an Asian actor (with closer proximity to Korea) in favor of a non-Asian actor is another act of denial.

This casting choice perpetuates AAPI erasure, rather than stepping toward broader inclusivity. One doesn’t have to travel too far back through Broadway history to note harmful casting choices, notably Miss Saigon, where the Vietnamese role of Engineer was performed in yellowface (the actual donning of makeup to appear Asian) by white actor Jonathan Pryce, minimizing the presence and voices of Asian performers. This is not a new experience for AAPI actors, as there are many who rallied against the Miss Saigon casting choice who are now rallying against MHE’s casting choice, decades later.

Although the current situation does not involve the act of donning makeup to appear Asian, it carries the same insidious, destructive, and underlying message: that the telling of Asian stories do not need Asian bodies.

What can the industry learn from this?

Inclusion is not only about who is on stage, but also why certain creative choices are made. It is about being intentional and clear with messaging. If a production chooses to shift course, it must own that shift publicly and responsibly.

I don’t believe Will Aronson and Hue Park took accountability over their confusing actions over casting. They argued that casting AAPIs exclusively were never their intention. I challenge their intentions and I challenge them to review how casting calls and character descriptions were worded for the Broadway production. The fact of the matter is that their recent statement completely conflicts with the demographic that was requested for auditions (Asian performers). And if the team decided to change this choice at any given time, they should have owned their retraction.

It appears as though the show used the AAPI community’s talent and involvement for novelty and for their fiscal convenience. And now that they are no longer useful, they have no problem telling a story set in Korea with a non-Asian lead actor who will convenience their ticket sales.

I hope that they continue to look back on their process in order to confront their mistakes.

Casting can be used to weaponize marginalized communities; we have seen white actors represent non-white cultures historically in Thoroughly Modern Millie, The King and I, and West Side Story. These choices are powerful. These choices not only teach an audience how to interpret what and who is included in a marginalized story, these choices also negatively impact the communities as a whole.

And let’s not ignore the hard statistics. According to Asian Alliance Performers Action Coalition, 7.6% of roles in New York stages went to Asian actors while 43.1% went to white actors (2021-2022). Additionally 53% of AAPI surveyors felt “hopeful about the number of opportunities and the level of access within the industry,” while 48% did not feel hopeful (AAPAC Toolkit). Those margins are very small and reflective of the current direction the industry is headed. If the representation numbers stay stagnant or non-hopefuls continue to grow, morale will continue to lower, leading those to exit the industry altogether, lowering representation and the opportunity for AAPI stories on New York stages.

Where does the AAPI community go from here?

MHE was embraced by the AAPI community for providing a space for employment and because they were vital contributors to the production’s Tony award wins. So the choice to cast Feldman felt like a betrayal; a retraction lacking integrity and accountability.

The backlash isn’t about gatekeeping roles; it’s about taking responsibility when you have misrepresented your production for convenience. The AAPI community is simply reclaiming opportunities that have long been denied. And they, along with their allies, have made that clear. That is a fight for equity, visibility, and respect. Their pain is valid, rooted in a long and painful history of underrepresentation and dismissal.

If there’s a silver lining, it’s this: the community’s response has been resilient, unified, and loud. That collective voice has disrupted outdated narratives and has shown the industry that erasure will no longer go unchecked.

Most importantly, this moment has ignited a broader conversation—about casting, cultural integrity, and the ethics of how stories are told and sold. Whether or not producers have fully acknowledged their missteps, they have been forced to confront them.

This story doesn’t end in silence. It ends in momentum. The AAPI community will continue to speak up, push back, and demand better—not just for themselves, but for the future of storytelling on Broadway and beyond.

I hope this momentum empowers AAPI actors not only to keep calling out/in harmful industry practices, but also to lead with integrity; even when it's risky, and even when they’re working within systems that have historically excluded them.