This story begins with me getting swamped with work and missing the entire Beijing Olympics.

From the opening ceremony on Feb. 4 at 7:00 a.m. ET to the closing ceremony on Feb. 20, I did not watch a single competition or any official ceremonies. This is rare, since I used to watch the Olympics every four years without missing a beat; it was a long standing family tradition back when my parents and I could actually be together. But now, stranded far away from home due to Covid-19 restrictions in China while my parents work in different cities, it just didn’t feel right to watch it alone.

But that doesn't mean I wasn't paying attention. In just a few days, my news feeds were suddenly filled up with the story of 18-year-old skier Eileen Gu, who won two gold and one silver medals in Women's big air Freestyle skiing, Women's halfpipe, Freestyle skiing and Women's slopestyle, Freestyle skiing respectively. She was a rising star and everyone’s eyes were diverted briefly from the world’s many ongoing crises to her — an Olympics champion at the mere age of 18, a to-be freshman at Stanford University, the youngest person to ever be included in the Forbes China 30 Under 30 list and a high-achieving fashion model, Gu seemed to be the pinnacle of excellence in our age. And so of course her decisions drew much attention. Especially since she was of mixed Sino-American ancestry, raised in the United States in an accomplished Chinese family consisting solely of her mother, grandmother and uncle.

Then, in 2019, she switched her citizenship to China along with her national affiliation in sports, while deciding to compete for [China in 2022] (https://time.com/6149340/eileen-gu-halfpipe-medals-beijing-olympics/).

The responses were overwhelming. On one hand, Fox News and other U.S. based media outlets have called Gu an opportunistic traitor to the U.S.. On the other hand, Chinese citizens have cast her in an almost deifying light. Overnight, Gu became the go-to topic in many ongoing conversations and social movements in China, ranging from the “anti-involution” movement against meaningless competitions between youths to feminist protests against domestic male chauvinism. Many see her as an inspiration, but others see her as a punch in their faces, challenging their beliefs about what she should represent. Her comment on VPN usage in China — “anyone can download a VPN its literally free on the App Store” — also sparked outrage among Chinese netizens as VPN is considered illegal, with many criticizing her as too privileged and distant to understand the collective account of what being Chinese means.

All of this got me thinking — is this controversy what she would really want? More importantly, how many of these debates are truly about her, and how much of it is based on the labels we have placed on her?

If she did not have a mixed Sino-American ancestry, would she still be facing such comments?

The Sino-American relationship has long been strained. In January, 40-year-old Michelle Alyssa Go, an Asian-American woman, was pushed down the R train at Times Square 42nd Street station, New York City. Her death was announced at the scene. The Covid-19 pandemic was first called the Chinese virus by then-U.S.-president Donald Trump. Elderly Asian people were threatened and abused on the streets — for example 65-year-old Vilma Kari. Anti-Asian hate crimes increased by 339 percent across the U.S. in 2021, according to NBC News.

They said, “go back to China.” Now, they are calling Eileen Gu a “traitor”. I sometimes wonder if those words are uttered by the same people? Is their hatred towards the Asian American population dependent on what benefits they can bring them? Was Eileen Gu given an exception because they have a standard on who gets respect and who gets pushed down the train tracks, and Eileen Gu has somehow proven herself worthy while Michelle Go didn’t?

In December, the Biden administration declared a diplomatic boycott against China over alleged human rights abuses against Uyghur Muslims. The boycott did not bar U.S. athletes from competing in the Beijing Olympics, but the U.S. would not send an official delegation to the games. Many countries followed suit, including the UK, Canada, Netherlands, Japan and Australia. Under such socio-political tension, it is not surprising to see Eileen Gu put under the spotlight. It is also important to note that almost all accusations against her were made based on identities that she did not choose instead of what she actually has control over.

The hatred toward Gu is not a one-day thing or specific to her case. But still, why do we have to box Eileen Gu into different identities — Chinese, half-Chinese, American, privileged — why can’t we simply see her as an undefinable person, with a future yet to unfold? Moreover, why can’t we see the victims of Anti-Asian hate crimes as people as well — with distinct personalities, hopes and dreams and not defined by their culture and Asian faces? What do we really want from an 18-year-old? We do not yet live in a Spider-man world where each highschooler can be a superhero who bridges warring nations together. Why can’t we just give her a break? Does the fact that we project her as Nietzsche’s Übermensch mean that we are too desperate to face the world and heal among ourselves?

The fact that Eileen Gu is judged by her many labels instead of her goals, performances, thoughts and personal motivations means that she is not seen as a person who can make her own choices.

In an interview, Gu says that “my whole message is that I wanna make sports international.” She also says that “[people may] look at their TVs and say hey, we’re at the same age and she’s out there doing that, I can too.” Vince Duque, a Filipino-American blogger, also writes that by competing for China, Gu amassed an ‘unimaginable amount of viewership to be able to spread this message’ to millions of girls in China and around the world.

Why are we questioning such a simple yet honorable dream? Gu is caught between. All she wants is to inspire youths and make sports international — that’s it.

When the Beijing Olympics rolled around in 2008, I was an excited child sitting with my parents in front of the TV every night. They used to be an inspiration, an exception to be made — I was allowed to stay up late watching rewinds, dreaming about it later; the diligent training, the unlikely friendships, the respect for opponents, the graceful gyrations in the air, the unchanged dignity regardless of the outcome. Why are we so hell bent on losing that kind of pure interest, that kind of peacefulness now? Shouldn’t the ideal Olympics be about sports first, politics later?

The first sentence in the first interview I saw with Eileen Gu is: “since I was little, I’ve always said when I'm in the U.S. I am American, when I’m in China I am Chinese.” She has a right to her fluid identity and so do we. The struggle against being restrained, labeled and expected to act inside the box — all the while being heavily politicized and generalized based on our nationality — is far from over; however, the story of one undefinable individual in an age of compulsory definition may give all of us some courage to fight for recognition as individuals instead of a blurry collective.