As a first-generation American-born Asian kid that attended a predominantly white elementary school, many unwanted labels were forced on me. Other kids assumed that I couldn\’t speak English. Instead, they assumed I spoke Chinese, Japanese, or probably Korean. I had to tell them I was Vietnamese and that I, contrary to their beliefs, could speak …
In 1982 in Detroit, a 27-year-old Asian American man named Vincent Chin was bludgeoned to death with a baseball bat by two white male auto workers while they yelled racial slurs at him. As he laid there dying, his skull cracked open and blood and cerebral matter pouring out of his head, he uttered his …
Is history repeating itself? Looking back on Vincent Chin Read More »
The truth about life is that it is impossible to satisfy everyone. Your lifestyle and your personality will displease some and impress others. However, judgment is at its most black and white when your identity comes with a hyphen; in my case, it is being Asian-American. The hyphen carries a lot more baggage than given …
The constant Instagram stories. The flood of tweets. The aesthetic infographics detailing issues around the world. We’ve all seen and reposted them. #BlackOutTuesday. Save Yemen. Pray for Beirut. These are our cries and our demands. Yet once we share the post to our story, retweet the news story, and learn about the injustices of the …
When my mom and dad told my nine-year-old self that we would be moving to America, the only thing that struck me was that I would be saying goodbye to the best friends I thought I would ever have in my entire life. After arriving in the United States, I did not really realize how …
I am an American born Chinese, but up until sixth grade, I had never even heard of the term “Asian American.” It was second grade and we were having a lesson on Martin Luther King Jr and the Civil Rights Movement, and I distinctly remember thinking I was white because my skin color was the …
my grandmother’s fingers are coarse as she braids my hair, humming stories in a language my tongue ravages. we sit cross-legged on the shingled roof my great-grandfather raised, suspended in sweat and ground turmeric. from here, puddles bleed gold into burnt soil, and a drooping sapphire skyline ripples across the Himalayas. I feel my grandmother’s …
The word “Asian” covers such a vast amount of culture, people, and experiences that it seems underwhelming to group it all under one simple umbrella term. Considering this, I would rather refer to myself as Punjabi. From Sunday school classes, to learning the traditional dance Bhangra, and countless other cultural traditions, being Punjabi is an …
