To My Asian-American Community:

Andrew Yang made waves earlier this month with his very misguided opinion that Asian-Americans (who are once again being clumped into one giant monolithic term) need to assimilate to white American cultural norms to combat the rising racism and xenophobia here in the United States. Apart from the fact that history has proven time and time again that participating in respectability politics and contributing to the model minority myth does not work to combat deep seeded and institutionalized racism and xenophobia, he missed a huge part of the whole picture.

The cruel reactions that dominant societies have, particularly in a time of crisis, to the “other” is not new for us or for many other minority groups globally and in the United States. And the efforts to fight against it, educate when we can and have the mental and physical space for it, or just simply survive and create boundaries if you’re lucky enough to do so (a very legitimate form of resistance) remain paramount to taking back agency of our identity.

While COVID-19 has reinvigorated important conversations about AAPI identity, these conversations are missing the crucial piece that intersectionality also strengthens us.

I have a curated list of Asian-American celebrities and influencers that I have followed since undergrad, the time that I was really able to lean into my Asian and Chinese-American identity after feeling ashamed about it growing up in a predominantly white neighborhood and school system. These folks demonstrate pride in their Asian-Am identities and their diverse histories – from 1st generation children like me, to inter-racial adoptees, to those whose families have lived in the United States for generations. I am able to find a kindred spirit in and admire them for being public figures with the same labels and identities that I share. For most of my life, I didn’t have that in my life beyond tokens like Lucy Liu and Michelle Kwan. Then, in the last few years, it seemed like Asian-Ams were finally getting their spotlight in mainstream media with the Crazy Rich Asians franchise, Celeste Ng books (and now show!), To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, the 2018 Winter Olympics Team USA with Chloe Kim and the ice skating team, and even Andrew Yang as a major party presidential candidate. It was representation in a way I never thought possible.

As excited as I was about this movement, something about all this was off, like how it feels when a random chotski on your shelf isn’t angled quite right (are my old lady habits too obvious now?). 

And then it clicked. Most forms of mainstream Asian-Am pride led to this idea that we are alone in our struggles. That only people within the community can understand how it feels to be marginalized and needing to push ourselves to be seen as the amazing individuals we are rather than the stereotypes that white American society has constructed for us.

Prior to COVID-19 becoming an official pandemic, many Asian-Ams argued to vote for Andrew Yang because #asianpride. And now, many are telling us to specifically support Asian small businesses (yup, calling you out @wongfuphil). That mentality is wrong, unhelpful, and reinforces imaginary divisions meant to keep us all down. Too many of us Americans, regardless of the hyphen, have historically been marginalized and victims of systemic -isms and personal prejudice. Today, too many Black Americans, poor folks, and other disadvantaged communities are being disproportionately hurt by the societal and economic effects of the pandemic. 

If we’ve learned anything during this time, it’s that we cannot just focus inward to our own community. Intersectionality matters more than ever as it takes all of us to save lives. We must support those who are on the front lines to feed us and provide essential services. Those who don’t have the financial cushion to stay at home while maintaining a steady income. Those who fear for their lives because of violent environments at “home” or because of racial profiling outside of their homes.

We should use this time to rise up, band together, and become allies with all historically marginalized communities. We cannot fall into the same habits, but instead strive to come out of this horrible situation stronger than before. We are better and we can be better, together. (But like, physically apart #socialdistancing).

Confidence of a White Man

One of the most important skills I’m learning living in DC is how to navigate in the world that belongs to middle-aged white men. My friends and I joke that we just need to have the confidence of a white man and we’ll rise up professionally. But, how am I actually able to make a name for myself by applying leadership without being bossy, exuding confidence rather than bitchiness, all the while showing curtesy that isn’t perceived as weakness.

Yes, I believe these are issues that most young professionals face (i.e. having to start a email with “just checking in!”), but the thought and concern that women, especially women of color, face in the professional world is outright exhausting.

I have been the only woman in addition to the only person of color in the majority of DC public events or private discussions. This, along with being one of the youngest in the room, automatically creates an intimidating environment. Not only do I have the natural pressures to upkeep my professional reputation, but suddenly what I wear, how I act, what I say represents of all young Asian women.

It becomes extra painful when it’s actually part of my job description to serve our guests drinks that they request. I have to complete my job while perpetuating the stereotype of the obedient Asian woman. I think to myself: do I deserve to be angry? Isn’t it just part of the grunt work that all young professionals face? But seriously, I am the only woman and only person of color in a room full of 30, and the only one saying “here’s your coffee, sir.”

This microcosm represents the professional world – a game where we start disadvantaged and have to carry extra weights throughout. Sure, on paper we get equal opportunities, but when your life is consumed by both institutionalized discrimination and constant microagressions, there is no winning.

Take for example, how does this city eliminate “manels,” much less all white panels, when at the start many women and/or people of color do not have access to higher and graduate-level education, the money to survive months on an unpaid internship, and connections to the right places? This, along with professional discrimination, results in slim pickings for potential speakers and presenters. If a woman and/or person of color manages to even make it onto a panel, they simply become tokenized by the institution to show its “diversity” quota. Thus, I have to not only prove my worth amongst a male majority by working harder and being smarter, but the few other women and I have to compete against each other since there’s only room for one woman in the male-rigged game.

All of the above scattered thoughts describes my everyday. By simply being an Asian woman, I have consider consciously and sub-consciously one hundred different things before acting on or saying anything. While I’m busy considering these things, the white men get to just say or act as they feel. They ask the questions or offer thoughts in meetings first, they say no to tasks, they don’t even consider the possibly that some tasks are part of the job in the first place. So then, how do I process all these issues, but still have the confidence of a white man?

Stop Saying Nihao

Living in DC for the past three years, I’ve noticed more than a few trends that make it a very strange place. Of these trends, DCers appropriating non-English languages into their vernacular have always made me uncomfortable and angry. And while I have always known this, today I am able to (hopefully) say why.

Growing up as an Asian-American womyn of Chinese descent in the United States, even in multi-culti Southern California, has always made me ashamed of who I am. Like many immigrants and children of immigrants, I legally “Americanized” my name and strove to be as white as possible by rejecting my heritage. Going to Chinese class* every weekend and being bilingual in Mandarin was a point of shame. A point of not being wholly American.

In undergrad I was finally able to fully accept of who I am, voluntarily took Mandarin Chinese classes, and even lived in Beijing for study abroad. I made these decisions based on my identity and to learn more about the heritage I come from. It was there, however, that I had my first real glimpse of what soon became common in my life – mostly white folks throwing in Mandarin in their everyday language.

Moving to DC for graduate school only heightened my awareness of this particular appropriating culture. Since day one, people who took “Chinese” class for fun or to get ahead in the job market would include it randomly, ironically, or to (laughingly) impress. This phenomenon does not only include the usual white boys who think that by saying a few Mandarin words will get them into my pants. No, not astonishingly it includes academics, political wonks, and other respectable DC folks.

Even more flabbergasting, Mandarin is only one of the languages that DCers appropriate. My Muslim friends think I’m lying when I tell them that usually white, non-Muslim people say inshAllah, mashAllah, and alhamdAllah on a regular basis. Unfortunately, I am not.

While folks may think that saying non-English words is fun or harmless, they are actually appropriating my (and other folks’) culture. Most DCers’ set of privileges allows them to say nihao, weishenme, woaini, etc. without consequence. They do not have the dark history of being ashamed, criticized, and even physically threatened for speaking a non-English language. Despite speaking a non-English language, they go on in life unquestionably as the all-American person.

I’m all for learning multiple languages, including those that are not related to my background. But, as with anything else, I strive to check myself and recognize that I am learning the language without assuming the burden that goes along with it. I must respect the language and the history that goes along with its people. To those folks, in DC and beyond, that learn languages not within their cultures, I challenge you to do the same.

* I recognize that Mandarin has been used politically in China to marginalize people of non-Han origin. Using the term “Chinese class” refers to the terminology I used growing up.