Not Your Model Minority - By Shannon Koumphol
"I See You and I Know Your Pain is Real"
The hashtag “#STOPASIANHATE'' is trending, but racism isn’t new. In the last year alone, racial attacks against Asians in Vancouver rose by 717% (Zussman) and heinous acts of hate crimes in the US, particularly against the Asian elderly have been excessively prevalent. These aggressive acts of racism are perpetuated by ignorance and a racist narrative which correlates with the current COVID19 pandemic.
While celebrating Asian Heritage Month this May, amidst a time of uncertainty and growing fear, I feel compelled to use my voice and speak up against anti-Asian racism. I know the topic of racism conjures up many ill feelings for a lot of people, whether you are a person of colour or not: sadness, anger, fear and hopelessness just to name a few. It’s not an easy subject to talk about. It’s sensitive and heavy. Acknowledging it threatens our feeling of security in our worldview - but isn’t it long overdue for us to start these conversations about what’s hurting us?
Talking about these issues starts the healing process and moves the conversation in the direction of finding a solution. A good friend shared a quote with me recently: “Nothing changes, if nothing changes”, author unknown. The simplicity of this statement holds a profound truth. Give it a moment to let it sink in. How will things improve if nothing changes? It’s time to get uncomfortable.
When asked to contribute to this topic, I jumped on it right away. It’s important to me. Social and racial injustices enrage me due to the inequities I’ve witnessed growing up. As someone who internalizes a lot of feelings herself, I have always found that writing has been an outlet for me for expression and reflection - like a trusted friend, free from judgement and ridicule. There is so much that I could say and that I want to say, but where do I begin? The message is just so important. I appreciate this opportunity to share my story: my lived experiences of what it was like growing up Asian in Canada. I hope that parts of my story resonate with you so that we can share in the collective pride for our cultural heritage, or at the very least I hope that it helps you to understand another perspective.
My parents escaped Laos at a time when it was devastated by war. They arrived in Canada in 1980 as part of the influx of refugees known as the “Boat People''. My parents knew very little English when they arrived, but their ability to communicate in French helped them when they first arrived in Montréal, Québec before settling in Woodstock, Ontario. My dad found a job picking apples on a farm while my mom found a job learning how to sew. I arrived soon after.
Similar to many Canadian immigrant stories, my parents worked hard to provide everything they could for their children. It was not easy for my parents, having to learn a new language and understanding how systems worked. My mom eventually earned her college diploma in Chemistry which then led to her building a career in quality food assurance and my dad devoted his labour to the plastics factory for 32 years. My family lived a very humble lifestyle: we went to the beach, had picnics, went on family road trips every summer and we celebrated everything together (and continue to do so). We may not have lived lavishly but we had everything we needed. Loving home, food and clothes. My parents tried their best to provide for my sisters and I. It was not until I grew older that my respect deepened for my parents because of the sacrifices they made.
As I reflect on my early childhood years, I realize that I had led a sheltered life free from the cruelties of the world. My family and I were surrounded by a community who cared for us. It was not until I reached middle school that I realized that I was considered different. Before this, I was one out of five Asians in my school of 300 students while the rest were predominantly white. I knew that I looked different from the rest, but I didn’t feel different.
It wasn’t until middle school that I was introduced to more cultural minority groups; however, the majority was still significantly white. I gravitated towards those who were children of other immigrant families. The makeup of my group of close friends consisted of girls who were Cambodian or Jamaican. There was a sense of welcoming and belonging.
It was also in middle school that I remember my first encounter with overt racism. It was during Gr. 6 French class: three kids who sat next to me started pulling their eyes sideways and made “Ching Chong Chang” sounds. When this happened, I didn’t know what to make of it. Why would they make fun of me, someone who got along with everyone? And why would they make fun of my eyes? What could I do to change that? These thoughts ran through my young mind and this was not the last time I would face racist remarks or physical attacks. The next was being hit by a piece of lumber which threw me off of my bike and told me to go back to where I came from. I’ve experienced many racist encounters or microaggressions throughout my life since then, and the same question lingers: “Why?” What purpose does attacking others serve?
I don’t understand.
My teenage years were spent trying to understand and discover who I was. I knew where I came from but growing up as a Laotian-Canadian, I found that I didn’t connect with my Laotian peers. Many times, I felt out of place and not accepted, especially since I didn’t look like your typical petite Asian girl. There is also a stigma if you weren’t born in the home country of your ancestors you’re considered “an outsider”; as if we don’t share the same heritage, eat the same food and speak the same language. As an outsider, I wasn’t fully accepted by my white Canadian peers either because of the way I looked or the way I viewed things.
In university, I found myself to be the only Asian female within a group of friends who were all African men (from Nigeria, Ghana, Congo, Egypt) who took me in like a younger sister. University were some of the best years I’ve had because of these friendships. Through these relationships, my appreciation for my diverse group of friends and for other cultures grew which helped to shape the person I am today. I love learning about other people’s cultures- it opens up my mind and literally my world.
As a professional, I am proud that my parents instilled in me a strong work ethic and the value of education. From experience, I know that I have to double my efforts to ensure that I get noticed. After a job interview, I always have to wonder if I didn’t get a job ultimately because of my ethnicity. Yes, it could be that the other person was more qualified, but as a person of colour you can’t help but have this thought run through your mind at least once. Also, in my reality, when encountering new people, I have to work double time and step up my game because of the assumptions already made about me: visible minority, female and inexperienced. It is because of these reasons, in everything that I do, I have to bring it 110% because I can’t afford not to. I wonder if others need to think this way? Is it fair if they don’t?
As an adult, the term “model minority” was introduced to me. The “model minority” stereotype is geared toward Asian-Americans due to our cultural emphasis on hard work, dedication to education, and willingness to overcome hardship. The problem with this concept is that it undermines what Asian-Americans/Canadians endure in order to succeed; it distances the solidarity between Asian-Americans and African-Americans and it promotes the idea that Asians don’t face racism.
Well, guess what -- I am not your f*%king model minority. Success is not given, it’s worked for. Vigorously. I have established a strong reputation as a career professional as I continue to progress. I have learned how to communicate in five languages. I am pursuing my Master’s in addition to managing personal investment properties in one of the world’s richest cities. Everything that I’ve accomplished so far, I have worked hard for. By denying Asian experiences and hardships in order to achieve success due to the ideals of the “model minority” is dishonorable and detrimental to social justice movements. As we’ve seen many times, Asians face racism daily and need social and economic help. The model minority does not exist.
When I hear of attacks that are continuously taking place it makes me angry, scared and sad to think that it could happen to anyone based on how they look. When I see the social injustice of it, I am back in middle school feeling small in a big world. What can be done to help change the story? As I continue to find my voice, there are so many others that need to be heard. Let’s keep the conversation going, start discussions among your friends, coworkers, and family. Ask: “how are you feeling?” You never know what they’ll say and showing compassion will go a long way. There is power in listening.
For my Asian friends who are hurting: I see you and I know your pain is real.
References
Chin, Margaret M. and Pan, Yung-Yi Diana. (2021, April 19). The ‘model minority’ myth hurts Asian Americans – and even leads to violence. Washington Post. Retrieved from https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2021/04/19/model-minority-myth-hurts-asian-americans-even-leads-violence/
Namkung, Victoria. (2021, March 20). The model minority myth says all Asians are successful. Why that's dangerous. Retrieved from https://www.nbcnews.com/news/asian-america/model-minority-myth-says-asians-are-successful-dangerous-rcna420
Zussman, Richard. (2021, February 28). Horgan ‘deeply’ troubled by 717% increase in anti-Asian hate crimes in Vancouver Retrieved from https://globalnews.ca/news/7647135/horgan-bc-presser-feb-18/