The only Asian in the room: a tale of embracing your otherness
In honor of Asian Pacific American Heritage month, I wanted to take a second to reflect and share my journey of how I got to where I am today. I’ve traditionally been one of the few Asian, let alone East Asian leaders where I work. Given this, over the past year or so, I’ve come to realize how important it is for me to share my story, find common ground and help create a path for the next generation of Asian leaders. As part of my journey, I wrote down my diversity narrative. For those of you who are unfamiliar with diversity narratives: it’s a short story often reflecting on your experience with societal challenges and adversity.
It has allowed me to share my experience more broadly with others who may be facing similar challenges or questions. I’m sharing it publicly now, because if I can help just one person achieve a little more, it’s worth it. The collective power of the Asian community is incredible. We have a huge community, we have the intelligence and we have the will to be an even more impactful generation of great leaders.
Like some in their generation, my parents fled China by boat in the 40’s during the Communist Revolution to Taipei, Taiwan where they ultimately grew up. My grandfathers were a doctor and a telco exec, so my parents grew up relatively privileged in the homogeneous island community — though my dad likes to joke he didn’t get to drive till he was 20, but it was because he had a driver growing up. In 1970, they left the good life behind and with $500 they arrived in New Jersey to pursue the great American dream. They knew no English and had to take their undergrad classes again to prove their knowledge before getting jobs as a civil engineer and a data processor. They lived meal to meal, fought hard and worked harder to establish themselves and 3 years later I was born. We lived in the basement of the house my uncle had in gritty Teaneck NJ, home of the Sopranos — eventually when my Uncle saved enough to move out, we’d move upstairs and would boarder newly arrived relatives in the basement, passing along our knowledge of how to assimilate to their new home and progressing the cycle.
To this day, Teaneck was the most diverse neighborhood I’ve probably ever lived in. My neighbors were both immigrant families — 3 sisters from Mexico and an Irish brother and sister. Though we were all from immigrant families, I feel like everyone was still trying to fit as a “normal” American kids — like Joanie or the Fonz. We all played well together but the fact I ate with chopsticks or didn’t have meatloaf on Tuesdays made me clearly different even amongst our diverse community. Looking back, it was not that bad but in many ways not an ideal environment to grow up. I stole my first candy bar at 7 and held my first gun at 8. And for that reason, it was made clear to me early on that this was not our family’s end game. Getting out of Teaneck was a when, not an if question.
In 3rd grade, I moved to Woodcliff Lake, NJ — population 2,000 — and started at my 5th school. There were 3 Asian kids including me (2 Chinese, 1 Korean) and no black or hispanic students, but we had 5 Chris’ and 4 Jennifers. Though it wasn’t intentional, it was unspoken that going to school with more white kids was better for me. It was a suburbia on the “Stranger Things” level minus the Demogorgon. I lived in this town for 8 years until leaving for college and during those formative years, was when I established my understanding of race, identity and social status. Like most kids, I was made fun of at length for being different — the slanted eyes, the funny chinglish impersonations, the kung-fu acting — and it all made me want to fit in but also drove me to standout in my own way, on my own terms. Not because of a race I was born into, but because of who I was. My idols growing up were Michael Jordan and Dr. Dre, making black people the pinnacle of cool. Every politician, leading man or pop-star was white, making it socially and financially beneficial to be white in my mind. Conversely, the rare times an Asian person was portrayed it was dorky, uncool or weird — remember Long Duk Dong. There was no real place in American culture for Asians in the 80’s and 90’s. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was these years that shaped my bias to fit in with non-Asian communities, not only to succeed but to survive. It was clear everyday that success, popularity and power all lie in racial groups that didn’t look like me.
To compound my view of the center of the universe was my parents’ love for travel. My mother eventually landed a job at Pan Am, allowing us to fly anywhere, anytime for free. An immigrant’s dream. We toured europe every 3 years and visited almost every major US city all before I was 12. The tours, the sights and the history was fascinating but every story, monument or skyscraper was a symbol of white, Anglo-Saxon success from Augustus to the Rockefellers furthering my understanding that Asian people did not have an impact on the world. We were inferior. And given the war torn history across Asia, we were confusingly expected to not like the Japanese — who were the cool Asians in the 90’s. I was not allowed to buy any Japanese made products and when my Chinese friend bought a Honda, his mom made him park it down the street.
These are just my observations, and by no means do I think this was intentional on my parents behalf. They grew up in a country that is 99% the same race, so it probably didn’t enter their minds — except that the portrayal of black people on TV was an element not ideal to be associated with. Like all of us, they wanted what was best for me and our family, — and by many measures, having started 47 years ago with $500 and being where we are today, they did ok.
In all of these diversity conversations, I realize that it’s been hard for me to genuinely participate because in many ways I feel like a person without a racial identity. I essentially grew up trying to be white. While living in Japan, Korea and China for 8 years, I was not considered Asian but American. And even in those markets, being American was incredibly intriguing. Working in America, I’m usually one of the only non-white people in a room and I’m typically the only Asian in most leadership meetings — and that’s more of a shade of grey. I’ve honestly been so confused.
So in thinking about it, my story is not one about how a diverse environment made me who I am or improved my chances in life. My story is how poor stereotypes, a lack of diversity, or even the vilification of diversity created a self-fulfilling, echochamber of a non-diverse life that included white suburbs, catholic schools and an unusual obliviousness to the lack of diversity surrounding me. They say you can’t be what you can’t see but my story is one of just impersonating what you do see to get what you want. I’d like to tell myself that if I did it, why can’t everyone else but that’s just not realistic or fair. I ended up ok but in many ways I’m not necessarily proud of how I got here. The shame I feel for not fighting for my race, my culture and standing up for this part of me is one of my biggest regrets in life. When my parents immigrated to America, they wanted me to fit in with the mold of the American dream and that’s what they got, but I lost a connection to generations of family history and rich culture.
But as with most people, my kids have given me perspective and hope for the future. Growing up in a bicultural and trilingual household gives them the opportunity to explore their heritage in ways I never experienced. Teaching them to be proud of every unique part of themselves has actually helped me better connect with my own racial identity. Growing up a shy, immigrant kid it took me a long time to be proud and confident in who I was and what I was capable of. Looking at my Asian heritage, not as my whole self, but as an important part of my identity has been a major milestone. I no longer view my race as something to hide or be ashamed of, but rather, something that has played an integral role in shaping who I am today. As I continue to unpack and explore this part of me as a leader in the business community, I hope to help others feel energized and inspired about who they are and the diverse people around them. I hope one day, everyone in my community feels comfortable and courageous enough to be themselves and fight for a better future for everyone.
