In Honor of the Beginning of Asian-American/Pacific Islander Heritage Month. Inspired by the article "Why I Am Absolutely An Angry Black Woman."
There are approximately 4,740 white students on this campus. There are only about 115 other Asian students.
In one of my classes, we debated over whether or not an "English-only" education is beneficial for multilingual, immigrant students. I was one out of two students of color in the room, as well as the only Asian student in the room. But I allowed myself to be vulnerable and decided to share a personal story in my class.
I explained that first-generation Asian-Americans typically lose their native language because educators encourage parents to only address their children in English. I revealed that I can't always have a clear conversation with my own parents because I was only taught how to speak and understand English. I opened up about the shame and disconnect that came with this language barrier.
After I told my story, one of my white classmates commented that she went to an English-only school with a lot of Asian students who spoke English as a second language. She claimed that they were grateful for being forced to speak English and argued they ended up attending Ivy Leagues because of their proficiency.
I forgive my classmate because I don't think she knew how much her words would hurt me. And I'm sure that if she did, she would have chosen them more carefully. But I'm not going to act like what she said didn't phase me. I shared something extremely personal in a room full of white students only to have my experience as an Asian person invalidated. I had to stop myself from crying in class. I tried to hide my anxiety, my sadness, and my anger, but I'm sure that I was visibly upset. And I'm sure that some of my classmates were wondering why I seemed to be fussing over nothing.
To my white classmates: This is why I'm being "oversensitive."
When I started preschool, I was convinced that Americans only spoke English. Because when I was four, I was already telling my mom I was going to get surgery to fix my face. Because I hated my flat nose and my full lips. Because I thought there was something wrong with me. Because I started Anglicizing my last name in Kindergarten. Because I thought being a real American meant being white. Because I felt ashamed to be Filipino. Because I didn't like being called brown. Because my classmates didn't even know what the Philippines was. Because they kept insisting that I was Chinese, even when I told them that I wasn't. Because the only Asian people I saw on TV were Chinese. Because I was convinced people who looked like me didn't matter enough to be on TV anyway. Because I didn't believe I was beautiful until someone gave me a Filipina Barbie doll when I was six. Because I had never seen a doll that looked like me until then.
Because I had to train myself to answer the question "Where are you from?" with my ethnicity instead of my birth place. Because a cashier told me that I "didn't look the way I sound" when I was just trying to place an order. Because I'm treated as a foreigner in my own country. Because my parents wouldn't let me bring Filipino food to school and I never understood why. Because my parents were trying to protect me. Because they couldn't protect me as much as they wanted to. Because one of my teachers told me that he "didn't see color." Because that same teacher kept confusing me with the four other Asian girls in the class even though we looked nothing alike. Because in middle school, a black classmate told me, "You may look Asian, but you're white on the inside." Because my white friends told me they were more Asian than me just because they watched anime and I didn't. Because I wore traditional Filipino clothing to my high school for spirit week and my classmates told me I looked stupid. Because my best friend in high school told me that my family's language sounded ugly. Because my classmates told me that I only performed well academically because my race gave me an advantage. Because I was either too Asian or not Asian enough. Because my identity and experiences continue to be defined by other people.
Because my parents keep telling me that I'll find a nice white man one day. Because my parents believed that Filipino men were inferior to white men. Because my mother tells me she wished she changed her name when she came to America. Because my own family struggles with internalized racism. Because I called my mom's work and the phone operator rudely asked me "Would you please speak English?" when all I said was my mom's name. Because I felt like an idiot afterward. Because my father screamed when I told him what happened. Because that was the first time I saw him furious. Because he had to explain racism to me that day. Because I was only 8-years-old when my dad told me, "That's just how white people are to people like us." Because no one should be trained to deal with bullsh*t at a young age.
Because I am always going to be one of the "only's" in my classes. Because my Elon gave its Asian students a closet for a safe space. Because I don't feel safe on campus all the time. Because we have an Asian Studies Club instead of an Asian Student Association. Because I'm the only Asian-American who attends the meetings. Because I have to drive to nearby colleges to find Asian-American community. Because I can't help feeling lonely sometimes. Because Elon doesn't offer Asian-American history courses. Because I'm already in college and I still can't learn about my own history. Because I am constantly told that we don't matter. Because we are not invited into the race conversations on campus. Because our issues are never discussed. Because Elon's Asian students are invisible. Because I am expected to play the role of the honorary white person. Because I hate being the model minority. Because I hate being a tool for white supremacy. Because I can't please both my Asian family and the American majority. Because my Asian-American identity is not seen as complete. Because sometimes I still feel like I have to choose a side.
Because my parents told me that "wanting to be white is a normal thing kids go through." Because I don't want this to be normal. Because I don't want to see myself in my children. Because I don't want to hear my daughter say "Mommy, I wanna get surgery one day so I can look like the girls on TV." Because my daughter will be beautiful just the way she is. Because I got angry when I saw a video of a group of white girls laughing after being asked if they were attracted to Asian men. Because my son will not be a walking caricature. Because my son will be worthy of being loved and desired by someone. Because my children deserve to be valued. Because, yes, I learned how to love being Filipina, but that's not something my children should have to learn. Because white people never have to learn to love their whiteness. Because hating yourself should never be necessary. Because I'm not even close to having kids, but my heart breaks when I think about them. Because I know I can't save them from anything. Because I know that I'll still have to try.
White students, I'm being "oversensitive" because I have to think about race, and you don't. Because I'm hurt, and you don't understand why. Because I've been carrying this burden my whole life, and you think I'm just overreacting to "one little thing" that happened in class. Because I have to remind myself that my feelings are valid when you keep insisting they're not. Because I'm afraid you won't care when I share my stories, so I don't even bother to speak during class discussions sometimes. Because I have to allow myself to cry over the isolation I feel as an Asian-American on this campus. Because I have a hard time trusting you even though I want to. Because I'm angry. Because I'm tired. Because I feel like one of the central parts of my identity is not welcome here. Because I don't feel like I'm welcome here.
Because I feel like you need to learn how to love us better. Because Elon's minority students deserve so much better.
Because Elon is our home, too.
