Hwang aimed to create a play that would unravel the racial and gender stereotypes the West has embraced when interacting with Eastern cultures. To achieve this, he first needed to showcase these stereotypes in action. Throughout the play, negative Western perceptions of the Chinese are frequently depicted. Gallimard complains about the perceived arrogance of the Chinese, a belief he acquired in Paris, where he claims it's commonly held. Both he and his wife seem to hold disdain for Chinese culture, criticizing how the Chinese cherish their long history, as if age alone grants special significance. Additionally, Toulon, the French Ambassador, is quick to assert that although he resides in China, he does not live among the Chinese, implying that doing so would be beneath him.

Beneath these negative perceptions of a foreign culture lies a deeper implication: Western cultural stereotypes of the East as passive, weak, and subservient may partly fuel international conflicts like the Vietnam War. Gallimard, in his capacity as a diplomat, shares his views with American policymakers, expressing the belief that “The Orientals simply want to be associated with whoever shows the most strength and power.” He suggests that America will triumph in Vietnam if it demonstrates enough resolve, assuming the East will not resist. “The West has sort of an international rape mentality towards the East,” Song declares during the trial scene.

The playwright scarcely needs to highlight the irony in Gallimard's perspective, as the audience is well aware of the American failure in Vietnam, where advanced technology and powerful weaponry did not lead to victory, and the Vietnamese were anything but passive. Yet, Hwang underscores this by depicting Gallimard's dismissal from his diplomatic role for offering poor advice. The year is 1966, and the war is turning against the Americans. Nonetheless, Gallimard continues to echo the clichés that the American government was promoting at the time, asserting that “the end is in sight”; it’s only a matter of time before the Americans succeed. Gallimard is unable to let go of the stereotype regarding how the East will react to the West. This is evident earlier in the play when Song informs him that he cannot objectively evaluate his own Western values. Gallimard responds with dramatic irony, “I think it's possible to achieve some distance,” yet he clearly fails to do so in any of his opinions, emotions, or actions.

Racism also occurs in the reverse direction. In the play, Westerners are repeatedly called "foreign devils," a term so prevalent in China that Westerners even use it jokingly about themselves. Conversely, Hwang suggests that many Eastern women embrace the stereotype presented by the West, which portrays Western men as powerful and highly desirable. For instance, in one scene from the play, a moment from the opera Madame Butterfly is reenacted, where Butterfly declines a marriage proposal from Yamadori, a Japanese prince, saying, "But he's Japanese." Suzuki, Butterfly's maid, scolds her, reminding her she is Japanese as well. "You think you've been touched by the whitey god?" she asks. (This dialogue is not in Puccini's opera but is an addition by the playwright.) Similarly, Song suggests to Gallimard that the allure of the dominant white male and submissive Oriental female dynamic is not limited to Western men; the attraction might be mutual. This implies that the West is not solely at fault. As Hwang explained in an interview with John Lewis DiGaetani,

The colonial power ... displays a condescending attitude toward the East. However, the East has played into this for short-term benefits without considering the long-term negative impacts of perpetuating these racial stereotypes. I believe both...

The themes of racial and cultural stereotyping are deeply intertwined with sexism and gender stereotypes. At the core of the play lies the cultural sexism portrayed in Puccini's Madame Butterfly, which Gallimard accepts without question. When he observes Song acting out the opera's death scene, he fails to distinguish her from the character she portrays, thus unable to see her as a genuine person. Viewing only through the prism of the cultural myth of the submissive, self-sacrificing Oriental woman, Gallimard becomes vulnerable to both self-deception and deception by Song.

Gallimard overlooks the fact that when he initially meets Song in her female disguise, Song attempts to challenge the myth, perhaps even before deciding to deceive Gallimard. Song describes the story of Butterfly as "ridiculous." He then remarks to Gallimard, "It's one of your favorite fantasies, isn't it? The submissive Oriental woman and the cruel white man." By reversing the roles in an example, Song tries to highlight how offensive the stereotype could be for an Eastern woman:

What would your reaction be if a blonde homecoming queen fell in love with a short Japanese businessman? He treats her poorly, then vanishes for three years, during which she worships his picture and rejects a young Kennedy's proposal. When she discovers he has remarried, she takes her own life. Now, I believe you'd consider this girl to be a mad fool, right? But when it's an Oriental woman who kills herself for a Westerner—ah!—you find it beautiful.

Despite Gallimard turning to the audience and saying, "So much for protecting her in my big Western arms," Song's dismantling of the myth doesn't release Gallimard from its hold. He continues to admire Pinkerton, the heartless betrayer in Puccini's opera, noting that while an opera audience might condemn Pinkerton, few men would resist the chance to be him if given the opportunity. This insight into male psychology seems validated when Toulon, the French Ambassador, expresses his admiration for Gallimard's relationship with Song. Gallimard interprets Toulon's approval as his initiation into a "good old boys" club, where membership is seemingly granted to men who seduce any woman they desire and then gather to boast about their exploits.

During the trial, Song explained that Gallimard's inability to recognize his lover as a man was partly due to the cultural stereotypes the West imposes on the East. The West sees itself as masculine—"big guns, big industry, big money"—while it views the East as feminine, "weak, delicate, poor ... but good at art, and full of inscrutable wisdom—the feminine mystique." Just as the West expects the East to yield to military might, it also anticipates Oriental women to be submissive to Western men. Consequently, themes of racism and sexism are closely intertwined. This mindset even leads to the feminization of Eastern men. As Song remarks, "being an Oriental, I could never be completely a man."

By the conclusion of the play, the playwright completely dismantles the racial and sexual stereotypes that have been gradually exposed throughout. The roles of Gallimard and Song are entirely reversed. Gallimard, who is exploited, loving, and betrayed, becomes akin to Butterfly, while Song is revealed not only as a man but also as a manipulative deceiver (similar to Pinkerton in Madame Butterfly) who was never what he seemed. The lesson for the audience is that stereotypes are not only harmful, but they are also untrue.

The narrative of M. Butterfly intricately weaves together the themes of love and betrayal, exploring how the two intertwine to shape human experiences. At the heart of the story lies Gallimard's profound love for Song, a love that he perceives as unparalleled and transformative. This love, however, is built upon a fragile foundation—an illusion sustained by Gallimard's own imagination and perpetuated by Song's deliberate subterfuge.

Initially, Gallimard's affection seems to transcend all previous encounters, as he revels in the fantasy of his "Butterfly." The relationship flourishes under the guise of perfection, with Gallimard's desires seamlessly fulfilled by Song's charade. The illusion is so compelling that it blinds Gallimard to the truth, enveloping him in a dreamlike state where reality and fantasy blur.

The veneer of this perfect love begins to crack with the revelation of Song's true intentions. The espionage element adds a layer of betrayal that shatters Gallimard's constructed reality. The arrest of Song unveils the truth—Song is not the delicate Butterfly of Gallimard's dreams but a man who has been deceiving him all along. This revelation is devastating, yet Song attempts to salvage the remnants of their connection by proposing a new relationship, one based on their exposed truths as two men.

Gallimard, however, cannot reconcile this new reality with the fantasy he cherished. The loss of his imagined Butterfly is too great, leading him to reject Song's proposal outright. Stripped of the illusion he so desperately clung to, Gallimard's world crumbles, culminating in his tragic decision to end his own life. The interplay of love and betrayal in M. Butterfly thus illustrates the destructive power of illusions and the painful consequences of confronting the truth.

David Henry Hwang’s play M. Butterfly intricately explores gender relations, weaving parallels with Puccini’s opera Madame Butterfly to reveal complex dynamics of power and expectation. In the narrative, the evolving romance mirrors that of Puccini’s tragic tale where Gallimard, akin to the character Pinkerton, becomes enmeshed in a web of illusion and deception. Initially, Gallimard sees himself as the dominant force, akin to Pinkerton, who callously discards Cio-Cio-San, driving her to despair and ultimately, suicide. However, as the story unfolds, the balance of power shifts dramatically.

By the climax of M. Butterfly, a striking reversal occurs. Gallimard, once the orchestrator of his romantic fantasy, finds himself on trial—convicted, humiliated, and stripped of his illusions. The revelation that Song, his lover and object of desire, is indeed a man, shatters his constructed reality. This revelation forces Gallimard into a tragic transformation, drawing a parallel with Cio-Cio-San as he chooses death over a life stripped of honor.

Hwang's play delves deep into the stereotype of the submissive Eastern woman, a figure that men, like Gallimard, often desire for her perceived obedience and docility. This stereotype not only perpetuates gender inequalities but also ensnares men in a trap of their own making, as their expectations make them vulnerable to manipulation and eventual betrayal. Through this narrative, Hwang critiques how such unrealistic gender expectations lead to devastating consequences for those who indulge in them.

The dynamic of scorn and submission between the West and the East has been a recurring theme in both historical contexts and cultural narratives. Mimicking the pattern seen in Puccini's opera, where Pinkerton belittles his Japanese lover, the West has often demanded the subservience of Eastern nations, dismissing their worth and undermining their sovereignty. This Western superiority complex, however, frequently leads to its own undoing. In David Henry Hwang's play "M. Butterfly," the character Song, along with Chinese Communist allies, cunningly manipulates the affections of Gallimard, a Western diplomat, to extract crucial secrets. This allegory underscores a broader geopolitical reality where the West's determination to dominate, such as during the Vietnam conflict, often results in strategic failures and heavy losses. The underlying irony is that the very arrogance that seeks to subdue the East ultimately sows the seeds of the West’s humiliation and defeat.

In "M. Butterfly," David Henry Hwang deftly navigates the intricate interplay between reality and fantasy, challenging audiences to reflect on the blurred lines between the two. This play stems from a true story about a French diplomat embroiled in a decades-long affair with a Chinese opera singer, whose true identity and gender remained undiscovered by the diplomat for over twenty years. This striking real-life narrative was famously documented by The New York Times, serving as the foundation for Hwang’s dramatic interpretation.

Set against the backdrop of significant historical events like the Vietnam War and China's Cultural Revolution, the play unfolds in a world where fact and fiction intermingle. Yet, Hwang deliberately shuns a traditional, realistic portrayal. Instead, he embraces theatrical abstraction, employing actors to inhabit multiple characters and using sparse props to evoke complex settings. This nonrealistic approach emphasizes the tension between what is perceived and what is real, prompting the audience to question the very nature of perception and truth.

Hwang expertly uses this dichotomy to underscore his theme: the allure of fantasy can be so compelling that it blinds one to stark realities. Through creative staging and narrative complexity, he invites spectators to reconsider the boundaries between genuine experience and constructed illusion, making "M. Butterfly" a profound exploration of identity and deception.