What (Non) Asians Need To Understand About Andrew Yang

Stephen Yuan
Nov 7 · 5 min read
#Yang2020

I didn’t grow up with an Andrew Yang in my life. There were no Asian politicians, especially coming out of China where politicians hide like shadows tucked around corners. Instead, like other millions of 2nd or 3rd generation Asian immigrants, I grew up with the instruction to pursue a career in a stable and linear growing field like medicine, law or science. For non Asian households, this often acted as a broken record of jokes. Everyone knows an Asian kid whose parents pushed him into into engineering or medical school. Everyone also probably knows an Asian kid who has since dropped out of engineering or medical school to pursue a career in…whatever the fuck they want.

I used to despise my mother for this, her inability to understand me as a who I am. I wanted goals, dreams and hope — not an abacus, fried rice and red socks.

Asian kids grew up with white people on TV and black people on MTV. This has resulted in us having a 2nd class citizen status in America as the non violent, tax paying, law abiding group of foreigners. We may look different than ya’ll, but at least we don’t cause no trouble. Tucked behind the kowtowing that society expects of us is a lack of identity and with it, a lack of self and belief. Young Asian Americans on average struggle more than their African American or Caucasian counterparts because we were raised in a dichotomy of reality. Our upbringing consistently insisted on us trying to be “American” at school but “Asian” at home. Our parents strictly prioritized grades over experience, reality over imagination and success over failures. It is this last part, an iron fist like demand for consistent academic success that has deprived millions of us a chance to pursue our own dreams, and with it our true selves.

Over my life, I have had multiple conversations with foreigners about how “poor” or “messy” or “dirty” Asia is. To be fair, I’m not entirely disagreeing, but Asia is more or less only about 50 years old. Once you remove the centuries of empirical prowess in China and Japan, you’ll find that modern Asia as we know it is incredulously young. South East Asia, China and even more developed countries like Korea and Japan have gone through major social, institutional and technological changes over the last half century. The trickle down effect this has on the parents of these countries though can still be seen in how they raise their children today. My mother grew up on food rations, without electricity and pennies in her pocket. We, like many other families, were able to escape that life of impoverishment mostly through the back of her education and work ethic. Our parents weren’t wrong to instill a rigor for academic achievement, but it has resulted in a fixed identity for millions of Asian millennials decades later.

Being a child of the 90’s and immigrating with a single mother to the west coast was both exciting and confusing. Here was this new world of wonders and splendor, but when I pulled back a layer I found out that I wasn’t fully welcomed. Barriers to entry existed in plain sight, but they also existed more subtly at home. I grew up desiring and idolizing the same things as most of you did: Kobe Bryant, Brittney Spears, and those pre-packed lunch boxes with crackers, cheese and Kit Kat bars. But despite growing up with all these desires like everyone else, it was never to become a reality. Was I allowed to love Kobe? Yes. Was I allowed to try and be Kobe? Only until I was old enough when my grades mattered, then no — I wasn’t allowed. I used to despise my mother for this, her inability to understand me as a who I am. I wanted goals, dreams and hope — not an abacus, fried rice and red socks.

More than a decade later though, my vision has rounded closer to being 20/20 in hindsight. I can empathize more with the fear of Asian American parents coming home after a long day’s work and hear their child speak of dangerous thoughts like doing comedy, or film or any of the other “Dark Arts” we saw on TV. Those words were met with loud groans and eye rolls at best, and the tip of a belt as worst. That hand they used to guide us academically is also the hand they used to prevent us from seeping back into what our ancestors were decades ago. I don’t blame my mother anymore for not being able to understand me, not after I understood what she has gone through to get me here today.

It is also hard to ask her to understand me, when it has taken a decade for me to understand myself. If a 30-year old Asian male refuses to join the ranks of accounting, engineering, and middle management, where does he even fit in this world today?

This is where Andrew Yang comes in.

Andrew Yang is like the Moon Landing for young, Asian males in the world. It allows us all of the sudden to raise our heads above ground, and look up — towards the moon. It doesn’t mean that we all aim to be on the moon, for most of us being President is not what we want after all. But it does allow us to smell the air, to see the trees, and to explore the multitude layers of possibilities between the ground and the moon. It gives us permission to grow outside the narrow confines of our cultural upbringing, and find the middle ground between shaming our families and pursuing our dreams.

When Obama was elected in 2008, there were two fights happening. One was for the presidency, and it was fought between him and President Bush. The other, was over identity, for African Americans to see someone like themselves hold power in the most powerful country in the world.

I’m not saying he’s our Obama. But Andrew Yang puts a successful, clean cut, well educated Asian male in his 40’s on the biggest stage in the world, a chance at the Presidency of the United States in America. While he is not our Kanye nor our Elvis, he is something much more powerful. Andrew Yang is an alternative reality for the minds of Asian parents. He is a boundary pusher, someone who is capable of making billions of others like him think “Hmm, maybe this was possible after all.” Even if he fails, is it all that insane to think of children growing up one day wanting to be “like Yang.”? Inspiration for the next generation is a frustratingly difficult to measure statistic, and there’s nothing that frustrates us Asians more than poorly measured statistics. But maybe this can be a step for Asian households to move away from the numbers and towards the heart, another thing that is frustratingly difficult to measure statistically. The heart is where the self starts, and identity forms. Andrew Yang does not give us identity, but I do hope he gives some of us more confidence and permission to pursue them.

Stephen Yuan

Written by

I think I think too much and write too little. #relatable

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