Editor’s Note: Read Elaine Hsieh Chou’s new short story “Background.”

“Background” is a new story by Elaine Hsieh Chou. To mark the story’s publication in The Atlantic, Chou and Katherine Hu, an assistant editor for the magazine, discussed the story over email. Their conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.

Katherine Hu: In your short story “Background,” an estranged father works as an extra in the hopes of encountering his daughter, a renowned director, on one of her sets. It’s a grand forum for reconciliation. What inspired this setting?

Elaine Hsieh Chou: I’ve been doing some background acting since 2019. It started as a way to make ends meet when I was in between jobs, but I grew to really love being on set. I’ve met people from all different walks of life and have had some pretty fun experiences (like transforming into a zombie in the dead of night!).

“Background” was inspired by a two-day set I was on of all-Asian extras. There were over 70 of us. We were all playing one ethnicity (Japanese), and all the scenes were actually “set” in Japan. What I found interesting was how we were such a varied mix, from all different ethnicities and social backgrounds: multi-generation Americans, first-generation immigrants, even hard-core conservatives, like the person who loudly declared on the bus, “Trump has done more for this country than Obama ever did.” But when you watch our scenes in the show, you would never know it. Because the principal actors were from Japan, audiences assume that this entire portion of the show was filmed there. Through what Gene calls “movie magic,” our differences were erased.

Hu: The blank spaces are a fascinating aspect of the story and force us to engage with the text in a unique way. My mind manages to fill some of them in quite easily, but others are more difficult. What is their significance, especially in a story about anti-Asian violence?

Chou: When I was first drafting the story, something about writing out all those scene breakdowns felt jarring. When I tried using blank spaces in certain spots, they clicked into place. And with the use of NDAs on sets, which I had to sign for the aforementioned show, it made sense. The blank spaces also bring to mind erasure poems—what’s not there says as much as what’s there. As this formal choice relates to anti-Asian violence, I think it was a way for me to mitigate writing out those beats because it would be painful to do so, especially because the ending of the shoot is already violent in its own right.

Hu: Athena is estranged from her father by choice, but you’ve decided to tell the story from Gene’s perspective. How did this narrative decision inform the way the story unfolds? Was it always told so closely from Gene’s perspective?

Chou: In my early notes for the story, I considered writing a story about a single father with a daughter who wants to be an actress. Then I jumped to writing from the perspective of a background actor, because I had that firsthand experience. I thought the director could be controversial: an Asian director who writes a satirical film about anti-Asian hate that casts Asian actors to be the victims of anti-Asian hate, but I wasn’t sure who the director’s character really was. Then, in the fall of 2021, I just started writing and new paths opened up. I trusted those instincts and followed where the story led me: The father is estranged from his daughter and she is the director. The film she directs is different from the one I had originally imagined, but some of those early themes stayed.

Hu: The film set is eerily realistic, yet it’s not reality. An extra, for instance, argues that being directed to act as a victim of anti-Asian violence on a fake subway set is still anti-Asian violence. How do you perceive the relationship between reality and our depictions of it? Is it always a challenge to depict a violent act without the risk of perpetuating it?

Chou: This is something I’ve been thinking a lot about, and in recent years, there’s been more discussion of “trauma porn” and who it really exists for. If you are retraumatizing the very audience a piece of media is supposedly for, can it really be for them? Do any of us, after a hard day’s work of existing in the world, want to unwind by watching or reading something that makes us feel ill? And when this happens, does it automatically make the media in question for “educational purposes,” which is lightly coded for educating a white American public? Where is the line between making an audience feel seen and turning their pain into shock value?

As for violent depictions being violent in and of themselves, several years ago I read that Gaspar Noé’s Irréversible (2002) includes a continuous nine-minute rape scene. I fixated on how Monica Bellucci might have felt while filming it. Even though I have never seen the film and do not plan to, that has always stuck with me. I also recently learned that, before the widespread use of body doubles, many child actors had to act in kissing or sex scenes with adults much older than them. Brooke Shields was 12 years old when she played a sex worker in Pretty Baby (1978), opposite a man more than double her age; she also had nude scenes in the film.

Hu: Gene and Athena both have novel ways of simplifying morality—the points system, for instance. Given their difficult relationship, and the trials of their respective lives, are these morality talleys simple attempts at being good? Or is something greater at play?

Chou: Rather than attempts at being good, I think Gene and Athena both struggle with navigating life in a healthy and non-chaotic way—for Gene, because of his alcoholism, and for Athena, because of growing up with an alcoholic father. As Gene’s character came into focus, I realized that the good-day-, bad-day-bagel system is so deeply tied to his own personal recovery program because he has not (yet) been able to regularly attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. It’s also low-stakes enough for him to commit to. For Athena, she has had to formulate a very rigid vision of right and wrong from a young age, and took pride in the fact that she could commit to this vision, unlike her parents. That self-righteousness has followed her into adulthood.

Hu: The story ends with Gene volunteering to be the extra who is violently attacked, with Athena watching him from behind the camera. As readers, we’ve been watching Gene closely, and are able to imagine him more directly through her eyes. Will this scene satisfy Athena’s desire for control?

Chou: I don’t know if Athena is focusing on a desire for control here; I think she recognizes that Gene wants to punish himself so he can finally forgive himself and move on from how he treated her as a child. He wants to quite literally right the wrongs of the past—which of course, none of us can do without a time machine. So when this situation presents itself, Gene grabs it as a last-chance opportunity. And Athena lets him. Gene’s IMDb credit is framed as Athena’s gift to him. To withhold the “punishment” he craves would only be further punishment.

Hu: What other projects are you working on?

Chou: I’m working on adapting my debut novel, Disorientation, into a film with my co-writer, the incredible April Shih. There are some other TV projects I’m working on, too, that I’m very excited about. I’m also editing my forthcoming short-story collection, Where Are You Really From, which will feature “Background” and different genres of storytelling: satire, remixed fairy tales and Chinese mythology, soft sci-fi, and horror-inspired stories. I love how short fiction is a space for exploration and play, and I can’t wait to share these stories.

Editor’s Note: On the last Monday of each month, Lori Gottlieb answers a reader’s question about a problem, big or small. Have a question? Email her at dear.therapist@theatlantic.com.

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Dear Therapist,

My husband and I are planning to have children in the very near future, and I have concerns about my mother’s ability to be a positive influence in their lives. Is it inappropriate to ask her to see a therapist as a condition for being present in the lives of my children?

My mother is often emotionally immature, reactive, and self-centered. When we have a difference of opinion, she views it as a personal judgment. My parents, who are still married, live several states away, and I currently limit contact with my mother. I see her on holidays and call her once a month. I’m closer with my father.

Growing up, I was heavily parentified by my mother; my father tried to stop this, but was largely absent. My father has matured as he has aged, and sincerely wishes he had done better in many areas. My mother cannot handle any conversation that alludes to her less-than-perfect motherhood, and has not matured since my childhood.

I’ve worked hard in therapy to heal my own wounds, and I already feel immensely protective of my future children. I am concerned that my mother will be a harmful presence for them, and that she will disregard my parenting plans and do as she wishes (this is a frequent pattern in our relationship). She was a kindergarten teacher for years, so views herself as an expert on childhood matters. But she lashes out when she doesn’t get what she wants; name-calling and belittling are still part of her repertoire. She is deeply insecure and has an unhealthy relationship with food and her body, which wasn’t fully responsible for my 15-year battle with anorexia, but certainly added fuel to my fire. I don’t want any of this around my children.

At the same time, my mother loves children and has endless energy. She dreams of being a grandmother, and can be tender and kind with little ones. She instilled a love of reading in me by reading to me each night. In many ways, her childlike nature would make her an incredible grandmother.

Is requesting that she do some therapeutic work of her own too much, or is this a reasonable demand?

Sincerely,

Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

You sound like you’re already on the path to becoming the kind of mother you deserved to have. You’ve worked hard to heal through therapy, and you’re being intentional about how you want to parent. By doing all of this, you’re already protecting your future children.

However, motherhood—or even the anticipation of it—often brings to the surface old childhood wounds. When this happens, it’s important not to let the helplessness you felt when you were young distort the fact that, as an adult, you have agency that allows you to protect yourself more effectively.  

I say protect yourself because the best way to protect your children is to be a sturdy presence that makes them feel safe. Your mother going to therapy is not the thing that will determine whether they have a healthy, happy childhood; it’s the confidence you have in your role as their parent.

Before I get to what that looks like, a quick word about giving someone a therapy ultimatum: Therapy can help people only if they’re motivated to change. In order to be motivated to change, a person needs to see that there’s a problem. Your mother doesn’t seem open to that possibility; by your account, she hears feedback as criticism, and lacks  willingness to consider other perspectives. Therefore, even if she acceded to your “demand” to seek therapy so she could see her grandchildren, she’d likely spend her time there complaining about you rather than looking inside herself. The bottom line is: You can (sometimes) coerce someone to go to therapy, but you can’t force them to grow.

The good news, though, is that there’s a difference between blackmail and boundaries—and that’s where your agency as a parent comes in. You get to decide what behavior is acceptable and what isn’t now that you’re an adult and are free from your parents’ control.

You can start setting the stage for your boundaries by sharing some general expectations in a letter. Because your mother might feel singled out if you address this only to her, I suggest addressing it to both of your parents. And keep in mind that most people respond best to hearing what you like about them and want more of. So your letter might go something like this (let’s call you Jill and your husband Jack):

Dear Mom and Dad,

I have some exciting news, and because Jack and I are giving so much thought to this, I want to share it with you in this letter. We’re planning for children in the very near future, and we can’t wait to experience parenthood! Jack and I have also been talking a lot about the kind of family we’d like our kids to grow up in, and I thought I’d share that with you both too.

One thing that’s important to us is that our children have close and enjoyable relationships not just with us, but also with the rest of the family. We know that you’ll both be incredible grandparents, and our kids will be so lucky to have you. Mom, I know how much your students adored your kindness, abundant energy, and sense of childlike fun. To this day I still treasure our time reading together when I was growing up, and I attribute my love of reading to you. Dad, the open conversations we’ve had have really moved me. Jack and I feel so grateful that our children will get all of this and more from loving grandparents.

Jack and I are also looking forward to growing into our roles as parents and figuring out what works best for our family. We know that you have valuable opinions, but we’ve decided that it’s important for us to find our own way. We will, of course, ask you for guidance if we feel we need it. I know, too, that we’ve had our differences, but I really want our children—your grandchildren—to see us, the adults, all get along well, modeling warm, healthy family relationships for them. I’m sure you want this too, so I know we’re on the same page. But I mention this because I’m asking that if we do have any tension between us (and what family doesn’t?), we have patience, give each other the benefit of the doubt, and, above all, discuss whatever the issue is respectfully and away from the kids.

These are just some initial thoughts as we get ready to move forward, so it might sound premature, but I’m so excited that we’re planning this and I wanted you to be among the first to hear what we’re thinking.

It means the world to us that we have your support in our goal of family harmony as we become parents. Get ready to be called Grandma and Grandpa!

Love, Jill

Notice that this letter highlights the attributes you genuinely value and hope your parents will share with your children, and sets the stage in a big-picture way for the dynamic you want your growing family to have: one where your autonomy as parents is respected, and everyone prioritizes family harmony. It might feel insufficient to you because it doesn’t address your more specific concerns, such as name-calling, belittling, and your mom’s relationship with food. Nor does it outline the pain they caused you. That’s because bringing those things up is likely to be counterproductive—your mom might not be able to really hear you, and your dad might be too conflict-avoidant to back you up. I suspect they’ll be more likely to absorb a message that puts you all on the same team and steers them toward the positive behaviors you want, because they won’t be on the defensive.

The second phase of boundary-setting will happen once your kids are here. For instance, if your mom lashes out when she feels judged, you can remind her that it’s very important to you that the adults model respect for one another and that you’re happy to discuss the issue privately. You can let her know that name-calling isn’t something you allow in your house—not to you, your husband, or your kids. If it continues, you can let her know, with kindness, that unless she’s able to avoid name-calling or criticism, you’re going to pause on the visits, but will be happy to resume them when this request is met.

Still, not every instance of bad behavior by your mom has to mean that you step back from the relationship. If she talks about food or her body in ways you don’t like, you can explain why you’d prefer she not do that, but it may not be a reason to keep your kids away from her. Remember, your children are not you—they have you as a mother, someone with self-awareness who has worked hard on her own issues. So if your mother makes her usual comments, that’s a great opportunity to talk with your kids about the different ways in which you and their grandmother think about food and bodies.

The point is that as you grow into parenthood, you’ll start to see that as much as you’d like to, you can’t protect your kids from the world—they’ll be exposed to all kinds of views, opinions, and personality types. The key difference between your childhood and the one your kids will have is that they’ll be able to learn from the way you handle situations with a maturity that your parents didn’t and perhaps still don’t have. Although cruelty is never okay, it’s not the worst thing in the world for your kids to see some of your mother’s more immature behavior, because they will witness you kindly setting boundaries, and develop the capacity to understand people as not all good or all bad. They’ll learn early on that you can enjoy someone’s attributes while also finding some of their habits annoying.

In the end, it won’t matter whether your mom goes to therapy or not. What will matter to your children is that you have—because you, not your mom, are the one raising them.

Dear Therapist is for informational purposes only, does not constitute medical advice, and is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician, mental-health professional, or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. By submitting a letter, you are agreeing to let The Atlantic use it—in part or in full—and we may edit it for length and/or clarity.