How much is too much of a sacrifice? With a white picket fence, two kids, two cars in the driveaway, and a house in suburbia, my parents have accomplished the American Dream by any measure. What was once a figment of imagination has manifested into a reality, or simply “the dream of a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone” (Truslow Adams, 1931). To my parents though, “better” doesn’t mean better in all circumstances.
For two immigrant parents that fled China and Korea in their early youth, a “better” life wasn’t a hard measure to pass. Simply being in America, away from war and conflict, was better. My parents created their futures in America by expecting nothing, yet accepting everything. They were taught to keep their heads down and work hard with no questions asked, because after all, it was already “better.”
Moving to America is already a dream in it of itself for many Asian-Americans
They remained quiet against the racism they faced, the attacks they bore, because it was still “better.” Better became an excuse, a defense mechanism to hide behind microaggressions and remain complacent even amidst injustice impacting their own Asian communities. Better became not only their excuse, but my excuse too. It’s the inevitable excuse for all of the Asian American community in America.
It never dawned on me that these excuses were an issue until this week, because after all, we’re still living the American Dream. Yet, among White, Black, Asian, and Latino ethnic groups in the United States, Asians poll as the group with the least amount of participation in participatory politics (Cohen & Kahne, 2013). It’s not a fact you immediately realize until you study the history of activism in the United States. Through every presentation this week, I saw activism at work in the black community through expressions of hip-hop, and the Chicano community through the UFW Protest among other examples. However, lecture after lecture, I kept asking myself “where am I?”
Hip-hop has played a monumental role in Black activism in America
I rarely saw a reflection of the advocacy and youth organizations of my East-Asian ancestors except for organizations formed in the Japanese Internment Camps – the quintessential, and one of the only broadly known examples throughout history. This lack of representation led me to wonder, was our advocacy simply left out, or was there little to begin with?
A site of the 2021 Atlanta Spa Shootings that killed 6 Asian women
Truthfully, the Asian community isn’t known for being vocal. We’re silent, almost too silent. Even at the height of the 2020 Stop Asian Hate and 2021 Atlanta Spa Shooting protests and demonstrations, my family and the broader Asian-American community in Arcadia, a neighborhood with a nearly 60% Asian population (primarily East Asians), did little to speak out. Even as attacks hit family members, friends, and neighbors, we kept silent. Youth, I included, largely resorted to clicktivism which placed an emphasis on awareness rather than action (Jenkins and Lopez).
Activism was never really a key focus of the Asian American community, and it still isn’t now. One of the most embarrassing moments for me as an Asian American happened in the first week of AYA camp. During discussions in Journalism, the topic of Asian hate was discussed, and as Professor Turner turned to all the Asians in the room asking “has there been a sustained rise of Asian hate?” none of us could answer her.
I felt so dejected and ashamed that I hadn’t even taken a single minute out of the hours I spent reading, watching, and listening to the news regularly the past year to research what was going on in my own community. I forgot about my community, my Asian identity, and consequently myself.
I like to think that I take action for my community, but when that community is limited to Democratic and social campaigns, it’s not representative of my whole community. I have never once participated in a protest, or organization supporting Asian rights. Largely, I attribute the lack of advocacy for my Asian community to the pain of discomfort. Advocating makes me confront injustices that I don’t want to believe, and the past of my ancestors that I’m not ready to explore. Simply put, I’m scared of change. What if everything our community, my family worked for — the success we have, the American Dream we accomplished — all comes crashing down? Is speaking out simply too much?
These doubts cloud my mind and the minds of countless other Asian Americans. Yet simultaneously, there is a burning passion within us to shift the tidal wave, to create generational change. The Asian American community may not have had the most notable impact in the ages of Scattered Activism, Adult Supervision, Youth Organizations, or Activism By and For the Youth, but we’re currently entering a new age, an age in which we act (Light, 2015).
Generation Z is increasingly bold, fierce, and vocal. We are mobilizing against gun violence through walkouts for March for Our Lives, staging sit-ins to advocate protecting abortion rights, and fueling participatory politics. We are “blending culture and media practice with peers, cultivating and sustaining communities” with renewed spirit and drive (Jenkins & Lopez, 2018). Gen Z Asian Americans are the change the Asian American community needs.
Many second-generation Asian Americans like myself were born into the legacy of the American Dream. However, generationally, the American Dream to us is different. It no longer represents purely financial security and freedom from war. It represents the ability to live without the fear of being spit on and called the “Kung Flu.” It represents the visibility of the hate crimes we face and the collective activism of America. Asian Americans have never stopped dreaming, but now, we dream to a different tune — one that is truly the dream.
“Everyone must dream. We dream to give ourselves hope. To stop dreaming — well, that’s like saying you can never change your fate. Isn’t that true?”
Amy Tan, author of the Joy Luck Club
Citations
Adams, James Truslow (1931) “The Epic of America,” Internet Archive, https://archive.org/details/in.ernet.dli.2015.262385
Cohen, C.J. & Kahne, J., (2013) “Youth Participatory Politics Survey Project,”
Inter-university Consortium for Political and Social Research,
https://www.icpsr.umich.edu/icpsrweb/civicleads/studies/36849/version/1
Jenkins, Henry & Lopez, Rogelio Alejandro, (2018) “On Emma González’s Jacket and Other Media: The Participatory Politics of the #NeverAgain Movement,” Brown University, https://bjwa.brown.edu/25-1/on-emma-gonzalezs-jacket-and-other-media-the-participatory-politics-of-the-neveragain-movement/
Light, J. S. (2021). 1 Putting Our Conversation in Context: Youth, Old Media, and Political Participation, 1800–1971. In From Voice to Influence (pp. 17-34). University of Chicago Press.
Communicating Change 