PARALLAX
Letter from the Editor The transformation that Asian Pacific Americans for Action has undergone in the last four years is incredible. When I entered Cornell as a freshman, APAA was reachin g a state of decline – the entire organization consisted of graduatin g seniors. They were overjoyed when I showed up at their meetin g and warmly welcomed me in . There was something about the atmosphere of the space that told me I would fin d my community there. So I stayed. Initially, APAA provided a space to discuss sociopolitical issues in the Asian American community. Each week, a member was to bring an article that would be good for discussion. During these meetings, we would examine issues brought forth in the article, but gradually, these conversations would drift off to casual chitchats. APAA was a very comfortable space where we could hang out, not just with anyone, but with people who cared for the community. The followin g Fall, all the seniors had left, but luckily we had managed to recruit a few members to keep the organization alive. We were unsure what directions we wanted to take and unclear of the vision we had for the organization. We worked on the Through My Eyes campaign to contin ue the tradition of an annual photo narrative that highlights the experiences of the Asian Pacific community at Cornell. In February 2016, news spread that Northwestern would finally be im plementin g an Asian American Studies major after a 20 year fight. Task forces at Yale , Hunter, and Duke sprang up, and Cornell joined this national effort. We spent the next year plannin g town halls to discuss the im portance of ethnic studie s and organizing students to demand what we wanted to see in our education. As the Save Our Programs campaign progressed, we became increasingly frustrated and dissatisfied because the administration repeatedly turned down our demands. If the administration was not going to give us the education we wanted, we were goin g to take it into our own hands and obtain this knowledge ourselves. Thus, we launched Grace Lee Boggs Month and a reading group of the works of revolu tionary thinkers. The discussions that have sparked out of these readin gs have pushed us to thin k and refle ct deeper than before. We have moved from asking in what ways have the systems failed us to what is our vision for the community and what responsibility do we have for creating it? We have moved from asking how can we get there to what are the values and ideas that will ground this movement? What transformation of values and ideas will this involve? APAA is no longer the organization it was several years ago. Our energy has been redirected from actions to thoughts. We have and will continue to evolve toward a new set of ideas and values. No longer an organization of relaxed, comfortable atmosphere, it is now a space where we have to be comfortable with being uncomfortable, where we have to challenge ourselves with difficult questions, and where we have to be okay with not knowing answers. Along the vein of our transition from actions to thoughts, we dedicated this edition of parallax to refle ctions. Too much of our time has been spent on actions that have concrete outputs (aka capitalist production). Here we use experiences of the past and im aginations of the future to refle ct on our relationships, our growth, and our values. As shown in the book cover, the raindrop on the le af represents our refle ctions of APAA in the last few years. Lastly, I want to thank all the members of APAA who have grown with me these past four years. This year marks another turning point for APAA - more than half of its members will be graduating. I am excited for what the new bloods will bring! Editor in Chief, Xiao Yin Ma
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PARALLAX
Table of Contents Letter from the Editor…………………………..….............
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Table of Contents……………………..………...................
3
Words From Alumni ……………………………................. 4 – 7 Homecoming …………………………………………. 4 Jensen Cheong
Not Just Nostalgia …………………………………… 5 Mohammad Radiyat
The Pacific …………………………………................
6–7
Linda He and Karen Li
Through My Eyes Photo Narrative ……………................
8–9
More Than Just Yellow …………………………................
10 – 11
What a United Asian American Community Means …………………………………… 12 – 13 Nuha Fariha
Save Our Programs ………………………………………… 14 – 18 Emily Dong, Jeremiah Kim, Linda He, Michael Stewart
Grace Lee Boggs Month ………………………................
19 – 22
Alice Li and Xiao Yin Ma
Campus Activism Under the Towers ……………………... 23 – 24 Andi Kao
Purpose ……………………………………………………… 24 – 25 Henrietta Clarke
Why We Must Read ………………………………………... 26 – 27 Archishman Raju
About the Authors ………………………….……..............
28 – 29 3
WORDS FROM ALUMNI
Homecoming Jensen Cheong “It’s time to go home” Those were the words that we had been waiting to hear for months. And finally, after a full deployment to the hot desert, we were coming back to our friends, families, and communities. If you looked at us, you would immediately notice that we are all part of at least one community: Americans. The flag that we wear on our uniforms is a small symbol that gives us strength and resilience during the most difficult parts of a deployment. However, most people have other items that give them inspiration and motivation to carry on the fight for their respective communities. In those moments of reflection, I often thought about where I found my own source of power during my darkest times. There are not many hills on campus that I was particularly fond of walking up. The one exception is the small climb up to 4th floor Rockefeller. Whenever I wanted to talk to someone or just wanted to hide from the world, I knew I could find comfort there. The faculty were always generous with their time when listening to my many grievances and thoughts. The staff could not be any more welcoming and accommodating. It took me a few semesters to realize that I was not going to a physical place but to a community of people who shared my thoughts, interests, and experiences. As a younger undergrad, I often leaned on my upperclassmen for their insights and guidance on how to conquer Cornell and stay motivated even during the difficult periods of college. Not only did they take care of me but they also showed me how to do the same when I became an
upperclassman. Slowly, I realized that I wanted to do more than just be a part of the community. I wanted to invest in its future and wellbeing. We began to promote the Asian American Studies program and its associated student organizations more often and with greater rigor. We wanted to build on a foundation that would allow future students to enjoy the same mentorship and community that I had. One of my most interesting moments in Asian Pacific Americans for Action happened during my senior year at the club fair. As APAA, we did what most clubs normally do: grab contact information and explain our organization to the new students. We thought that we had a good day finding potential new members and spreading information about an Asian American organization on campus. Curiously enough, in the meetings that followed, none of those people came. In fact, the new members that did come had found out about us from their own research! I realized that there is something unique among our community: many of us came of our own accord. In a sense, we were already part of a much larger Asian American community even before we met. One’s decision to join the armed forces is never easy for their family and friends. It is a profession that carries great risk, uncertainty, and social stigma. I knew that some of my friends and family would have strong opinions and I understood their concerns. But I knew it was my calling. And to my surprise, I remember how supportive the AASP community was. They gave me some things that helped me through my deployment: a sense of belonging and a desire to return. There were many things I could not wait to do when I came back home and I cannot wait to see the AASP community again! 4
WORDS FROM ALUMNI
Not Just Nostalgia Mohammad Radiyat Anyone who has recently spent more than a trivial amount of time with me knows that I go back to Cornell pretty often; since graduating in 2015 I think I've been back an average of two or three times a semester. It’s primarily because I miss my beautiful and wonderful juniors literally all the time, so I usually take any chance I can get to visit them and see what’s happening on campus. Visits to Ithaca make for great breaks from the exhaustion of young adult life in New York, and at the end of every visit I always find myself on an emotional and spiritual high, as if my soul and spirit are completely revitalized. It took me about a year to realize that it isn’t just the nostalgia and fun from being around old friends that give me life. In New York, few young professionals have comfort in their work and lives while most have almost all of their conscious energy robbed by long work hours, overwhelming levels of stress, and lack of meaningful purpose. One gets easily lost among all the dead souls walking. As a consequence it becomes difficult to consciously and actively think about the darker realities of our society, the realities that many college students contemplate every day. No surprise, then, that being around those students is a blunt reminder not only of the ills greed and ego around us, but also in the potential possibilities outside of the status quo. It is always the conversations with, and physical proximity to, students who willingly use their time to think broadly and critically about their communities that make me feel uplifted and hopeful about our future. Nostalgia is only the icing. The 2018 ECAASU conference at Cornell this year really brought it all home for me. So many things stand out in my memory about the conference. Kudos to the Cornell organizers for intentionally focusing on ideas of power and
justice for this year’s conference, which ECAASU is not necessarily known for. It’s a welcome and necessary change at this point in time where the consciousness of young people in America regarding ideas about oppression seems to be at a local maximum. The visible exhaustion of the organizers to the point of almost collapsing is indicative of the level of sacrifice that they were willing to make for the sake of creating a space specifically designed for the development of true critical thought, concern for humanity at large, and imagination of more equitable alternatives. The most amazing part to me was the level of dedication of the students who attended; I’ll never forget how a group of students from Florida spent almost thirty hours (captured in a hilarious vlog, the hallmark of which is mounting delirium) driving through a snowstorm up the bulk of the East Coast so they could take part in the conference for less than a day’s amount of time. I hope that the conference got students thinking about how to start and continue building sustainable communities for advocacy on their own campuses. Sustainability can be difficult given that interest in advocacy fluctuates every year with incoming first-years and departing graduates. One of the cores of my campus experience, Cornell’s Asian Pacific Americans for Action, went from a fairly wellattended weekly workshop during my first year group to almost vanishing by the end of my second year. I remember debates about whether APAA should be kept alive if there weren’t too many people interested. A few students decided to keep it going even if all the group did was to meet once a week and just talk, whether it was about politics or our personal lives. Simply being in each other’s presences helped to form a small community that became the basis for today’s APAA, a group built around transformative education and praxis. They are proof to me of the power of building community, no matter how large or small. Visiting them whenever I can and watching them do their thing makes me feel like the proudest uncle.
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WORDS FROM AULMNI
THE PACIFIC
A Year of Learning, Accountability and Reflection Karen Li and Linda He The Pacific @ThePacificNews 16h tl:dr so we started a newsletter to share things that we think are cool with ppl. there’s a lot of cool blogs and zines and websites but hey a newsletter seems different and maybe ppl will like it.
ACTION OF THE WEEK So after a year of writing and delivering The Pacific, we’re reflecting on the process and what we learned, how we’d improve and where we go from here. IF YOU ONLY HAVE… 2 MINUTES We started The Pacific out of a desire to hold ourselves accountable - to reading the news consistently, to calling our elected officials, to knowing what’s happening in the world around us, to challenging ourselves to have better politics. It’s been a blast and a learning experience collecting actions, information, news stories, readings, books, food recommendations, movies - what have you - from you (our readers) and the web. 5 MINUTES Trump might have been the catalyst for this newsletter, but he wasn’t the catalyst for our political activism and this doesn’t mean that we’ll stop fighting for racial, social and economic justice even when he’s gone. Because in a system created by white male slave owners, we know we will never truly be free unless we demand something better. We have to continue standing up for immigrant rights. Fair representation in the media. Take a knee for Black Lives Matter. Stand with Palestine. 10 MINUTES But as we write this newsletter, we’re still consistently asking ourselves those unanswerablebut-maybe-someday-we-will-have-somewhat-of-an-answer questions: • What kind of things do we include in the newsletter? What kinds of things are we not including? Is it intentional or can we be better? • Whose voices are we elevating and whose voices are we forgetting? Can we as two East Asian females with our own sets of privileges and experiences and assumptions speak to anything other than our own lived experiences? • And what does a newsletter really do? How do we not let producing this newsletter become a convenient substitution for meaningful and direct action?
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WORDS FROM ALUMNI AND BEFORE YOU GO… IN OTHER NEWS Although there’s a lot of questions up in the air, there are some things we do know. We definitely couldn’t have done this without all the folks who have taught us and inspired us along the way. So here’s a shout out to some awesome people: Cornell’s Asian American Studies Program and the amazing faculty and staff who keep the program going The brilliant and wonderful human beings of Asian Pacific Americans for Action The people owning it in the digital space - Reappropriate, Angry Asian Man, 18 Million Rising, Asian American Writers’ Workshop, Kundiman, Colorlines, Code Switch, Racist Sandwich and the list goes on. And of course friends and family and coworkers and everyone in between who consistently opened our newsletter and shared it far and wide with their own networks. FOR LATER At the time of this writing (April 2018), we’re temporarily on hiatus as we transitions through some life events. We’ll hopefully be back soon (with a new look too!), so stay tuned. If you’d like to get on our mailing list, hit us up at thepacificnewsletter@gmail.com. And of course, the newsletter wouldn’t be complete without our famous last words. And here they are again for your convenient perusal. WANT TO SEND US GOOD VIBES – AND SOME GOOD FEEDBACK? Just hit reply and tell us about an article or a book or a movie that you just enjoyed that you’d like us to include or if you think have some great advice about how we can improve this newsletter’s experience. Or just to say hi! LIKE WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE? Forward along the newsletter to your friends, or reply directly with their email so we can add them to the family! WANT TO BREAK UP WITH US? We’re sorry to see you go – but unfortunately, once you’re in the inner circle, you’re in it for life. Just kidding – have a nice life, and just reply directly that you’d like to be removed from our list. GOING AGAINST -ISMS AND -PHOBIAS ONE NEWSLETTER AT A TIME We are not the new ramen, but maybe one day we’ll be the new Atlantic. Love, Karen + Linda
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“ EYES THROUGH MY
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HIGHLIGHTING THE DIVERISTY AND DEPTH OF THE HISTORY AND EXPERIENCES OF CORNELL’S ASIAN PACIFIC ISLANDER COMMUNITY FALL 2015 - SPRING 2016
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Through My Eyes is a photo narrative campaign that was launched in Fall 2015 to capture the histories and experiences of the Asian Pacific American community at Cornell. In the interviews, participants were asked to reflect on how their experiences have shape their identities. The stories were released in Spring 2016 to the public. For a full collection of the narratives, please visit the Asian Pacific Americans for Action Facebook page. “Since my knowledge of Korean language and culture is seriously limited, I tend to view myself as inferior in that sphere as well. Has any of this changed since coming to Cornell? On one hand, I’m much more conscious of racial discriminations, both big and small, that are so deeply entrenched in our society; I’ve been able to have intelligent, meaningful conversations about race and a slew of other important issues with my professors and peers. On the other, I have no idea if my “political awakening” has done me any good – I still have this unshakable sense that I don’t belong in any particular group, and I worry that all these new ideas and beliefs I’m forming won’t change the reality of my situation.” – Jeremiah Kim "You are like a weighted average of each of your communities... I'm a little ChemE, a little Asian, a little corporate slave... I'm a huge drifter. I didn't ever stick with one group... I still identify as a student... it still speaks to me because those memories are fresh in my head. The identities I identify with are forever. I think I'll be down with the student struggle forever. These are the things I see carrying me to death.” – Mohammad Radiyat
“Being Japanese and owning that piece of myself is at the forefront of my personal identity. Being mixed with Asian and European blood I have had to try to understand how I am perceived by others. To some I am white, to others I am Asian. In the space where I fight for Asian American rights, I feel I have to prove my Asianess in a room. In some ways this W.E.B Dubois double consciousness thing going on. Even then does me having a paler skin tone and some anglo features give me privileges other full blooded Asians don’t have? What is my role in these spaces? Do I belong?” – Michael Stewart
"What is important to me is the people I meet and the relationships I make. If I ever wanted to be judged by some metric, I would want it to be the quality of relationships I make and what I mean to the people around me.” – Shiva Lakshmanan
"In my first semester as a freshwoman at UCSB, I took my first Asian American history course. At last seeing myself, my family, and my experiences reflected in history, I felt understood, recognized and empowered. I gained frameworks and language that spoke to my family’s immigrant working-class background. That class, and the many others, saved my life. I remember thinking, “If I could someday become a professor of Asian American history, that would be a dream come true.” Twelve years later, I came to Cornell to teach my first Asian American history class, and I always remember to instill that same feeling for my students: to feel understood, to empower them with frameworks to language, and to inspire life out of our shared histories.” – Chrissy Y. Lau
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Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month (AAPIHM) commonly takes place in May and celebrates the cultures, traditions and histories of Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders in the United States. With APAA’s #MoreThanJustYellow Campaign, we wish to highlight traditionally underrepresented Asian Americ ans and Pacific Islanders in the API community. The silenced histories of these groups have led to injustices such as the exclusion of brown folks, erasure of Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders and anti-blackness.
Let’s critically examine who in the API community gets to be represented and who is left out. Let’s consider queer, black Asians, South Asians, Southeast Asians, Pacific Islanders, APIs with disabilities and low income APIs. Let’s remember that the API community is more than just yellow. 10
ASIAN AMERICAN & PACIFIC ISLANDER HERITAGE MONTH 2016
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MORE THAN JUST YELLOW REFLECTION
What a United Asian American Community Means Nuha Fariha I’m not going to lie. When I first joined APAA, I was skeptical, cynical, doubtful that this organization could provide anything different than what I had come to expect from Asian American organizations at Cornell. I had grown accustomed to being the only South Asian face among a sea of East Asians, the only Bengali face amongst a sea of Indians, unable to express the disparities that existed between our respective groups. Take, for example, the vastly different SES amongst the Asian American community. While the average household income fall below average in Bangladeshi ($49,800), Hmong ($48,000), Nepalese ($43,500) and Burmese ($36,000), it is well above the median in Indian households ($100,000), followed by Filipinos ($80,000), Japanese and Sri Lankans (each $74,000).[1] South Asians are one of the largest communities of undocumented people in America and the least likely to seek assistance.[2] When I tried to bring up these issues within the Asian American community, my complaints fell on closed ears and dumb expressions. It felt like I was invisible, not “Asian” in the conventional sense of the word, not enough. And yet, something drew me to APAA. Perhaps because it was founded by three South Asians, perhaps because I was still willing to believe. Five years later, I am incredibly grateful I decided to go. As I took the long walk from West Campus to the A3C, I worried. Would I be accepted? Who would I see there? Would they be willing to listen? The first meeting I attended was a
planning meeting for “Invisible Crises,” which focuses on environmental justice in three separate Asian American communities: the Vietnamese community in New Orleans in the wake of Katrina; the elderly urban foragers in Chinatown NYC; mismanagement and destruction of native Hawaiian land.[3] Immediately, I could sense that this club was different, special. All members, no matter their background and experience, were given a space to talk, create and contribute. Even though it was only my first meeting, I felt an immediate sense of connection and a willingness to build collective knowledge. That semester, APAA also launched “More than Just Yellow”, a social media campaign which raised awareness of the diversity of the Asian American community. It was initially created by myself, Emily Dong and Lauren Yeaman, out of a shared sense that there is a lack of representation of Asian Americans on campus, in our education and in the broader society. It was an incredible opportunity for me to do outside research and learn about radical Asian and Asian American thinkers. In the process, I began to see the reflection and connection of radical ideas in South Asian, East Asian and Asian American thinkers. I realized the deep courage it took for many South Asians, especially women, to stand up to British colonizers and stand up to the patriarchy, the regimented caste system, and their families. Revolution doesn’t have to be a big pompous affair, it is also the small acts like providing care, shelter and food to a stranger from a different creed, studying art without the permission of your parents, listening to the stories of the elders. 12
MORE THAN JUST YELLOW REFLECTION Revolution can come from learning, educating and sharing the work of great thinkers, from living a life with purposeful meaning. “More Than Just Yellow” was aso fundamental in drawing the connection between all ethnic groups. Too often, we silo ourselves into specific, discrete and frankly white-dictated definitions of who can be in certain spaces. Learning about the philosophy behind these great thinkers helped me realize that all struggles against injustice are connected. In particular, the South Asian struggle for freedom inspired a lot of the radical philosophy of the Black Panthers and vice versa. For example, the Dalit Panther Party in India was inspired heavily by the Black Panther Party. In turn, the Black Panther Party recognized the organization and supported them in the Black Panther newsletter served worldwide. No struggle for justice exists in itself and no struggle can be solved by any one group working in isolation. We have a duty to stand for each other, to work together. In the words of the great DuBois, “the people of the darker nations must unite!”
We believe in the same powerful idea: that people can care for each other. At the end of the day, we are united.
Pew Research, “Key Facts about Asian Americans” http://www.pewresearch.org/facttank/2017/09/08/key-facts-about-asianamericans/ [2] Pew Research, “Key Facts about Asian Americans” http://www.pewresearch.org/facttank/2017/09/08/key-facts-about-asianamericans/ [1]
[3]
https://www.facebook.com/events/9782223 25619223/
Personally, working with APAA has made me a better person. It has made me curious about new ideas, eager to go into spaces and connect with people, brave enough to stand for my ideals. It has led to both a deep respect for the past and a sense of hope for the future. It has made me feel welcome, embraced and, most importantly, heard. What I love most about APAA is the sense of community, a merge between Asian and American cultures. We have potlucks where we share food together, we cry together when we feel overwhelmed, we laugh and share each other’s joys. It doesn’t matter where in Asia we come from, what generation we are, what our background is. 13
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ASIAN AMERICAN STUDIES REFLECTION
Reflections from Jeremiah Kim Ironically, it seems that we only started asking the most basic, fundamental questions — Why are we doing this? What kind of education are we searching for? How can we realize it? — towards the end of our campaign for Asian American Studies at Cornell. And now we’re back at the beginning, but it’s a beginning far advanced from where we first started. I became involved with APAA through Asian American Studies. Professor Chrissy Lau’s “Intro to Asian American Studies” class was the first time in my life that someone showed me the position I occupied in relation to history. Under her guidance, I was compelled to examine and produce knowledge in collaboration with other students in the class. Professor Lau challenged us to think critically about mainstream narratives, and to re-envision our own notions about the world in the context of larger movements that strove for liberation, justice, and transformation. Amid the transience that characterizes social life for so many college freshmen, the friendships I started with people in that first AAS course (which led to me joining APAA) have been some of the only lasting relationships that I’ve made during my time at Cornell. It wasn’t just that we liked each other, or that our personalities clicked — upon reflection, I think it was the fact that we shared (and still share) a common goal of searching for truth and a common joy in creating knowledge together. Without thinking about it very carefully, however, I credited much of this newfound excitement to the field of Asian American Studies itself. And why shouldn’t I have? American society wholeheartedly promotes
the idea that true education is something that can only be found at the university. I was eager to sign up for as many AAS courses as I could; at the same time, I was too cautious to really think for myself. I relied instead on knowledge that had been produced by scholars employed by institutions like Cornell. In essays and research papers, I qualified or even discredited my own intellectual claims on the basis that I did not have a PhD. I promulgated ideas that I didn’t necessarily understand or agree with. This is what the experts are saying, I would think to myself, so that means it must be right. I glossed over contradictions in the texts I was reading — in particular, the unwillingness to align with revolutionary ideology despite the revolutionary origins of Asian American Studies and Ethnic Studies more broadly. This spoke to a latent contradiction within APAA’s organizing: on one hand, we were excoriating the university for failing to provide a relevant education, and on the other, we had placed ourselves in a position of dependence on the university to give us that very thing. The contradictions of our thoughts and actions created an environment that was untenable for APAA, both in terms of our ideology and collective energy as a group. Rallying to put constant pressure on the administration was incredibly taxing, and it became more and more apparent that our efforts were futile. Trying to extract truth and meaning from a system of “education” that has evolved to increase its own capital through impenetrable jargon would never work. It was like trying to extinguish a burning house with a squirt gun. Something needed to change — and it definitely wasn’t going to be the burning house. If I’m being honest with myself, I have to admit that my personal motives for participating in the AAS campaign came from a selfish desire for recognition and validation. 15
ASIAN AMERICAN STUDIES REFLECTION It felt good to yell, to cry foul at Dean Ritter’s inaction, to make a show of enrolling in AAS courses for the sake of enrolling in AAS courses, to wrack our brains thinking of ways to reach “critical mass”, etc. We got so caught up in the how that we never really stopped to consider the what or the why. Taking that first step away from the known is, quite frankly, terrifying. When we were agitating for AAS at Cornell, we more-or-less knew what to expect: meaningless statements from the administration, tepid support from the faculty, empty promises to incorporate student input in subsequent hiring decisions, and other bureaucratic black holes. It was exhausting, but it was familiar. Starting a reading group without a clear objective in sight — in other words, without a syllabus or a professor telling us what to read and think — meant taking our education into our own hands. There was no metric by which to measure our progress. We had to start at square one, and trust that the ideas found within our readings would be enough to keep us going. Realizing that your assumptions about the world might be fundamentally flawed, or that your actions have been misguided — those are hard pills to swallow. But the alternative — continuing on your current trajectory because that’s what society has told you is the only way to effect real change — is an infinitely more dangerous prospect.
Reflections from Emily Dong I took my first Asian American Studies class without knowing it was an AAS class. In my Freshman Spring semester, I enrolled in Viranjini Munasinghe’s “South Asian Diaspora” with my best friend’s boyfriend because it fulfilled three different Arts and Sciences requirements all in one go. At that time, I didn’t realize this class would introduce me to not only a future political philosophy but also to the many comrades who have made me who I am: Omar, Nuha, and the current APAA group. After a brief stint in environmental activism, I grew frustrated with how white and limited environmentalism was. I wasn’t sure where to root myself, so I decided to join APAA after finally receiving an email about the meeting time my sophomore year. At that first meeting, I met Linda He and Xiao Yin Ma, who convinced me to add Chrissy Lau’s “Introduction to AAS” class. Similar to a rock suddenly breaking apart a dam and letting water fall free for the first time, this class introduced me to an academic field and program that would crucially guide me for the rest of my time at Cornell. Part of why Asian American Studies was so important to me at the time was because of the professor, Chrissy Lau. For the first time, I felt recognized as a human being. She encouraged us to position ourselves in a diasporic history that continues to flow. In some ways, she was one of the first professors who directly asked us to think about what responsibility means once you flesh out the complexities of bearing “identity.” As I became more involved with APAA and grew increasingly invested in this field that suddenly positioned me and my actions as the center, I grew angrier that an 16
ASIAN AMERICAN STUDIES REFLECTION academic program that significantly cared about me and introduced me to a new way of thinking about society was lacking in institutional resources. Chrissy’s contract was ending, and she had to leave that year. Such limited number of classes left me yearning for more guidance in the world. Linda and another APAA member Michael Stewart spearheaded the campus push to make Asian American Studies a major and department, symbolically assigning increased value to the program and hopefully enabling greater access to faculty searches and funding. The sad fact became clear: Chrissy had to leave because her contract was up, the University is not meant to provide an education that truly teaches young people how to be responsible human beings, the University bears corporate limitations of producing profitable knowledge and profitable graduates, and fields such as Asian American Studies and Black Studies are not seen as universal knowledge critical for everyone. Our protests were futile because 1) the University’s values do not and will never lie in a relevant education for people in critically thinking about what society needs for all people to live with dignity and fulfillment and 2) the anger from which our actions stemmed could only be directed towards blame-- blaming the University for being unjust rather than letting principles of a relevant education shape how we could possibly build.
that, what is our own responsibility in creating that relevant education? As I look back and understand what role Asian American Studies has played in my life and principles of humanity and truth, I believe that Ethnic Studies can act as an entry point for reimagining society. It surely did for me, but this University does its best to squash genuine commitment to revealing reality, historically and present, and dramatically reimagining a humane society. For many students who step on Cornell’s campus, seriously reading and thinking about what it means to be a human responsible for something beyond yourself will be far from their minds. It takes the seemingly ancillary, overlooked entities asking questions of “what is the beast of society we face?”, whether in Ethnic Studies or in organizations such as APAA, for a young person to face a serious crossroads consisting of 2 paths: one of selfcentered, dishonest complacency and the other of responsibility.
The beautiful hope was this realization that the University at this point in time is not meant to support anything close to asking the key questions of how society has failed and how society needs to move. The hope lied in APAA deeply questioning why we were pushing for Ethnic Studies and what a more relevant education looked like. Beyond 17
ASIAN AMERICAN STUDIES REFLECTION
Reflections from Linda He
Reflections from Michael Stewart
Perhaps the greatest irony in my four years at Cornell is that I was told to be a leader, to serve my community, to do great things, to volunteer my time to “make things better”. But it was not the institution that supported me in really imagining and fighting for something radically better. It was the faculty, students and staff of AASP who consistently donated their time and energy to challenge, inspire, and motivate my peers and me.
Even though we started as a small group it was amazing to see what we were able to accomplish. It is a testament to all the amazing people I got to work with during the fight for AASP. I personally feel I played a small part in it as the younger generations of APAA members really drove this campaign forward with such passion, ingenuity and resilience.
I came into Cornell thinking what a lot of other people think - that college is all about gearing up for the real world and anything that didn’t give me what I could deem to be tangible skills was not worth spending time on.
I was there when we got the student assembly to approve resolution #45 calling for the school to make Asian American studies a major. It felt good at the time. It was a culmination of a month of research and collaboration between students and professors. We were all there to celebrate with the yellow and brown ribbons and a sign “This is not Asian studies”. But that was short lived. Without any real power, the student assembly was powerless as an ally in our push to get AASP funded. A hard but important lesson learned.
But taking an Asian American history class with Professor Chrissy Lau and an Asian American literature class with Professor Shelley Wong was game-changing and taught me to ask questions that I had never thought to ask. What are the historical contexts of the experiences of me and my family? What assumptions do I have about others and why? What privileges do I hold? What is my positionality in relation to those around me? What systems and structures am I complicit in? And most importantly, how can I challenge myself to be a part of imagining something better, something truly liberating? Asian American Studies - and ethnic studies taught me to see beyond myself, to contextualize my actions and intentions, to reimagine what we’re all doing, why we’re here and what it means to build both solidarity and community. It’s a shame Cornell as an institution cannot see the value of AAS and ethnic studies. Although the fight to keep Professor Lau and build resources for AASP was a roller coaster of emotions, we’re continuing to fight the good fight and to be intentional and thoughtful in our actions because we know in our hearts that there has got to be something better than this.
As our class of AAPA members graduated, I had a great sense of pride in knowing we were able to guide the next generation toward their own political voices and ignite their willingness to fight this head on. They did just that. It was impressive to witness what they did next. From creating a town hall, website, zine and study groups it was above and beyond what we were able to accomplish while we were at Cornell. I am proud to be part of APAA as organization that has showed up for the Asian American community at Cornell time and time again. I want future APAA members to draw on this legacy for strength and guidance as they work to support their fellow Asian American during their time at Cornell. 18
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GRACE LEE BOGGS MONTH RELFECTIONS
How I Want to Be Loved Xiao Yin Ma Grace Lee Boggs emphasized human evolution as a process of becoming more human human beings. What makes us human? What does it mean to be a human? It begins by seeing ourselves as humans. As I look back on my past interactions, I realized that this entire time, I had only thought about tending to other people’s feelings while neglecting my own. If I had to pin point how it began, I would say from birth. Being the second child with an older brother, I was the child who to have or not to have, it didn’t really matter. As a result, I was led to devalue my thoughts, my feelings, and even my existence as a human being. This piece is dedicated to reflections about the types of relationships I want to build with people - a type of love that goes beyond romantic emotions, one that is sustainable, embraces a consciousness of human relations, and intentionally seeks for growth and evolution. Talk to me. But cut out the small talks. I want deep and intentional conversations. How did I make you feel today? How do you want to be cared for? How can I continue to build with you? Spend time with me. Hangout. Eat. Play. Laugh. Anything. I know I always present myself as being busy, but I will never be busy to the point where I cannot find time for you if you need it. Loving me means you will do the same.
Make me vulnerable. Encourage me to think deeper. But also challenge me. Critique my ideas and actions in a constructive and supportive way. This is a scary and intimidating process for me, and requires that we create a space for it. This type of space grows out of mutual trust and respect for each other and it can only come with time. Appreciate me. People simply do not appreciate each other enough. Appreciation does not always mean saying thank you or giving gifts. Instead it takes the form of spending time with those who are important to us. It is felt rather than physical. I have experienced relationships that have been maintained for many years. And because it has lasted for so long, it is assumed that it will last forever. But this is not true. You cannot take a relationship for granted. Sustaining a relationship requires active efforts on both sides. Growth involves three processes: learning, relearning, and unlearning. Learning is the acquisition of new knowledge. Relearning is the reintroduction of old concepts. The hardest of the three, unlearning, is the process of consciously removing toxic ideas that have been ingrained and drilled into our brains. If we are to grow our relationships with each other, it must involve all three processes. But in particular, love is helping each other to achieve the third. Some people say love can be thought of as a resource, that it is valuable, scarce, and finite. Is there really not enough room in our hearts to love everyone we can? While I do not have a clear answer to this question, I do believe that we are limited in time and that we should be intentional about the people we choose to spend it with. I believe that there are only so much emotions the human heart
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GRACE LEE BOGGS MONTH RELFECTIONS can hold at one time. However, I also believe that we have the ability to grow our capacity to love. A meaningful relationship must expand this human ability. Grace claimed that our deepest need is the ability to relate to other human beings. There is a connection between each and every one of us. If you love me, it means that you will also love yourself. How do you want to be loved? *I want to acknowledge my CAAAV, Seeding Change, and APAA family who have taught me so much and enabled me to redefine love for myself and others. I also want to give a special thanks to Gian Parel for their piece How I Want to be Loved that inspired me to write my own. These ideas did not just spontaneously spawn out of my head. Rather it was developed by talking and growing with the people around me.
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Campus Activism Under the Towers Andi Kao In the past decade, Cornell administration has shifted resources away from departments engaging with critical thought in parallel with an increasing centralization of power with the Board of Trustees. While the administration’s recent efforts to eliminate critical studies since the outbreak of the Great Recession of 2008 are only an expression of a more general trend, the intensifying corporatization of the university in the twenty-first century has resulted in a near-total suppression of history and politics in the classroom. At the same time that the corporatization of the university has stifled serious engagement with economic exploitation, militarism, and white male supremacy, the spirit of student activism at Cornell is wasting away from a prevailing climate of career opportunism among student organizations. The state of campus activism is not due to a shortage of creative imagination or well-intentioned students trying desperately to make Cornell accountable to its professed support for the principles of equality and empathy. Despite the intense pressure on students saddled with crushing debt to secure a cushy salary at any cost, there are still groups of people dedicated to the struggle for the collective good rather than immediate self-interest gathering together in classrooms, apartments, and under the watchful eyes of Zeus. The crippling emphasis campus political activity places on visibility and public presence, familiarity with administrators,
and working through internal structures derives, rather, in large part from institutional backing. Quill and Dagger’s hold over student organizations, in particular, perpetuates a campus politics remarkable for its emptiness and lack of political imagination. The advantages of gaining entrance into Q&D, “one of the most prominent and legendary collegiate societies of its type,” are legion: uninhibited access to all campus buildings, transfer of a wealth of institutional knowledge, inclusion within an expansive network of the ruling class elite, esteem, and, of course, a bottomless supply of snacks and arranged wine tours. But the cost to political activity on campus is dear. Student organizations become the handmaidens of leaders selected by an institution oriented toward secrecy and exclusion rather than dedication to the struggle for freedom, equality, and justice. Organizing in this context too often resembles a military or marketing campaign rather than a struggle for collective growth and social change. Inevitably lost in the noise of tactics and strategy is a grounding of politics in people’s lives. Explicitly political organizations led by members of the Quill and Dagger Society would rather perform power maps or participate in toothless letter drops than seriously challenge the university’s complicity in violence and exploitation to advance the interests of the Board of Trustees masquerading as the interest of Cornell, or the University’s many abuses against the people of Tompkins County. APAA’s weekly reading group, started in preparation for a month-long celebration of the life and work of Grace Lee Boggs, demonstrates instead a commitment to action guided by the search for truth, ‘the right ideas,’ rooted in humanity and in history. By reading the works of W.E.B. Du Bois, James Baldwin, and Grace Lee Boggs and 23
PARALLAX struggling to situate their words within a developing understanding of history and society together, APAA has created space for political education committed to a vision of social change through collective growth. The confused character of student activism on campus epitomizes the danger when actions are guided not by a commitment to truth, but by immediate political interest. In an environment in which loyalty overwhelmingly manifests as dedication to career ambitions, individuals, or an organization, APAA has embodied a serious and principled commitment to the struggle for collective freedom. By consciously and consistently rejecting a vision of social change as a reactionary process, APAA has championed a politics committed to revolutionary change guided by people struggling together rather than selfappointed leadership, and has been a tremendous source of political clarity and empowerment. The greatest testament to the incredible strength of vision and determination of this group is the remarkable ways in which APAA has changed how people think, be, and move through the world. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quill_and_Da gger
Purpose Henri Clarke Science is a great and worthy mistress, but there is one greater and that is Humanity which science serves; one thing there is greater than knowledge and that is the Man who knows. - WEB DuBois, “Galileo Galilei� Upon arriving at Cornell, I wholly intended to continue growing my own revolutionary thinking and commitment to humanity. As someone who was deeply involved in activism in high school -- fiery with passion towards justice, entrenched in the teachings of Black Lives Matter activists, APAA immediately appealed to me and I joined as soon as I could. As time passed, however, I was sucked deeper and deeper into the belly of Cornell Engineering. Although I have always had a genuine interest in technology, the institution surrounding my learning seemed to punish anything outside of that passion, intent on molding me into a tool for some large corporation. My first semester started with 18 credits and only increased as semesters continued. I felt myself starting to drown under the culture of glorified suffering, surviving by moving from lecture to problem set to lab over and over again, feeling passionless and adrift. An organization like APAA, which had no attached academic merit or concrete accountability, was easier to skip when I desperately needed time to sleep, study, or take a breather -- at first occasionally, then habitually. The added incursion of struggling with mounting anxiety and depression, spurred by self-isolation, solidified by nights of insomnia and classwork and breakdowns, urged APAA to 24
PARALLAX be my most disposable commitment. Even if I did make it to the occasional meeting, I couldn’t help but be distracted by the next stressor in my schedule and feel a weighty, bone-deep exhaustion -- a feeling that I thought to mean I needed to focus even more on academics, that seemed to showcase that the lack of greater meaning or human connection I found there was a result of my own failings -- a poor work ethic, laziness, or even stupidity. In pushing myself to overcome my perceived failings, I still found my coursework to be less than fulfilling: learning, memorizing, and applying engineering concepts meant nothing when Cornell’s vision for engineering success meant being employed large corporation, no intention of following one’s values in sight. There was no singular moment of revelation that pushed me to rekindle my passion and commitment to APAA -- rather, it was the growing realization that I needed people to talk and think with beyond discussions of circuitry or the status of internship applications. This was a reality I had known intimately before but had been forced to forget since coming to Cornell: that I found little worth in being a student of engineering if I had no humanity to balance myself upon. Dropping by the occasional APAA meeting would never be enough to soothe my soul if I did not change my priorities to accept my truth -- if I didn’t begin to see and treat myself as human, and if I didn’t make a continued effort to revel in that humanity others who also wanted to pursue greater truths that what could be found in a classroom, there was no point to wishful thinking if I did not resist the grim path that the university had laid out for me.
whether I had read the reading we were going to discuss, regardless of if I felt like I was going to drop from exhaustion -- for the sake of dedicating myself to that which actually mattered. As I continued to reliably attend, I began to feel a certain emptiness within me abating. I had more to look forward to in the week: conversations that I actually wanted to take part in, a growing sense of companionship, and a time where I could let my other responsibilities go to focus on hope. Although I grieved the time I believed I had wasted elsewhere, and although I am still developing the balance between my role as a student and my life as a person, my decision to make APAA priority was a deliberate step in the direction I wanted. It is only a beginning step, but I hope it to continue carry me with purpose -- to continue growing, learning, and bonding with others, moving past the demands of Cornell and towards a greater pursuit of truth, humanity, and happiness.
I made a commitment to myself to make it to APAA’s weekly meetings -- regardless of 25
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Why We Must Read Archishman Raju "You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read." - James Baldwin It might seem funny to make a plea for reading in an educational institution where so much of our time is spent reading. And yet, the plea must be made, since it is the only beginning to a resolution of the crisis that we face today. The crisis in this institution is painfully visible. A situation in which so many students can’t get past a single week without seeking a counselor is a frightening one. And the solution is not to have more counselors. The solution is not to manage “our differences” with “inter-group dialogue”. It is to honestly state the problem and address the failure of higher education in this country. And it is only when we see this failure in the context of the world we live in, that we can try and get some clarity. We live in a world whose contradictions are becoming very clear. The fact that the wealthiest nation in the world has immense inequality and extreme poverty can be justified by an army of propagandists, all with important degrees, but its human cost is increasingly visible, in any major urban city in this country. The word “human” is a very loaded word, to use in a country which is the heir to a civilization that has deemed so many to be less than human. It comes with assumptions that shape the fabric of a society, and which have been historically formed. These are assumptions of what is right and wrong in the world, and of who is responsible for the world we live in: moral assumptions. This is very visible if one
chooses to study the “humanities” at a “top” university and thinks about all that they have studied, which is a complete mockery of the word human. As students are trained in increasingly specialized fields to take up jobs (that no longer even exist), we have no contribution to offer to any of the major human problems in the world: poverty, racism and militarism. One can only observe either stunned silence or confused blithering emerging from an academic circle when confronted with this reality. This is why it is important to read, because how else does one challenge the assumptions that go into making a society which surely, is the whole point of education? Students today are born of a generation that began with what was deemed to be “the end of history”. The victory of a point of view, of a civilization against an invisible threat of communism. It is particularly ironic to observe the continuing moral outrage at the horrors of communism in a country founded on genocide and slavery. We are born of a generation that has not seen any of the upheavals that came before, and that threatened the institutions of this country. And as we enter into the world, we must struggle with the history that has created us. As Baldwin tells us - “For history, as nearly no one seems to know, is not merely something to be read. And it does not refer merely, or even principally, to the past. On the contrary, the great force of history comes from the fact that we carry it within us, are unconsciously controlled by it many ways, and history is literally present in all that we do.” When we struggle with our history, we also raise questions of what we will create in the future. And to create the future will require organization and will require action. But history is the movement of people’s consciousness, and so political education must be a central component of any project that attempts to create a better future. The university today is completely incapable of providing such an education. Hence it is our responsibility to educate ourselves. Too many of us have been taken in by the urgency of wanting to “do something”. We must first clarify the ideas and visions that will guide our actions, we must engage in this ideological struggle. And it is here that the negation of what this university
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PARALLAX stands for must be studied in detail, the anticolonial struggle and the black liberation struggle (of which James Baldwin is an extremely important part). It is not a surprise that both of these struggles are not taught by institutions, and are in fact actively attacked even by people who should know better. It is unfortunate that Asian American activism has come to mean an attempt to promote Asian culture in American institutions, rather than an attempt to engage with the history and values of the anti-colonial struggles in Asia and what that can contribute to American society. This past year, many of us at APAA have been reading and studying Grace Lee Boggs and W.E.B. Du Bois. Our readings are not sanctioned by a white institution, the concepts we have been struggling with do not have the approval of academics, our discussions are not mediated by readings of Foucault or any other French thinker, and yet we have made progress in understanding the world and the failures of this institution. We have been reading these thinkers on their own terms, and relating them with the world we see around us. We have also been reading them collectively, guided by the text and contributing to its understanding. It is extraordinary how much our thinking has changed by merely reading something together. Some part of what is responsible for the state of the university today can be traced down to economics, the rising tuition costs, the high student debt are all part of the university acting as a corporation. However, much of it is also explained by a complete disconnect from reality, ideas being discussed have no relevance to the lives of ordinary people. This is made vivid in a city like Philadelphia, where the shining University of Pennsylvania is a visible monster:, it gentrifies the community and exploits its low paid workers and then provides a “higher education� which has nothing to do with the reality in front of you. It is not much more difficult to see this disconnect at Cornell University either. It then becomes our responsibility to engage in the struggle for ideas, to read and understand our place in the world, and work towards creating a better future.
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About the Writers ALICE LI is currently a senior majoring in Operations Research and Engineering. APAA has been both a place of ideological and personal growth for her as she has learned from and continues to learn from revolutionary leaders such as James Baldwin, Jimmy and Grace Lee Boggs, and WEB Du Bois and her friends and comrades in APAA. She is excited to graduate and return home to play racquetball, spend time with her family, learn Spanish and read. ANDI KAO is a graduate student studying labor politics. He started attending APAA's reading sessions after learning about the group through Save Our Programs!, Praxis Talks, and Grace Lee Boggs month. Reading with APAA and seeing the group struggle with ideas through organizing has given him tremendous strength and hope. Many of the most important things he has learned while at Cornell have come from people in the group and he will carry those lessons with him. ARCHISHMAN RAJU is a physics graduate student. He is a member of the Saturday Free School in Philadelphia. He joined APAA in his last year at Cornell.
EUNNURI YI is currently a sophomore tentatively majoring in Biological Sciences and Comparative Literature. She joined APAA her second semester at Cornell with a feeling of profound uncertainty and ambivalence about everything in the world, but has come to find the group a source of groundedness and purpose (as well as a home) through reading, talking, and doing anything/everything with the people she has grown to know and love. Though she is grim about still having two more years to go, she is proud to continue in the commitment to truth, integrity, and responsibility — and is not quite as confused as before. HENRIETTA (HENRI) CLARKE is a sophomore studying Electrical and Computer Engineering, Computer Science, and sometimes plants. She began her involvement in activism in high school as a reactionary QPOC in the South and now focuses on rooting her life and actions in deeper intentions and ideas.
BRIAN BYUN is a junior majoring in Urban and Regional Studies. He joined APAA after seeing their photo campaign his freshman year.
JENSEN CHEONG (Cornell '15) was a member of APAA and AASP for his entire time at Cornell. He misses Spam and Eggs the most. He is a world traveler and has been everywhere possible on Earth, except outer space (future goals ! ). He is secretly a Pikachu, and is in fact a descendant of Ash’s Generation I Pikachu.
EMILY DONG is an imminently graduating senior. After a brief stint in the environmental movement, she joined APAA because she was done with people whose primary concern was zero waste. Through APAA, she has grown into a fuller & whole human being surrounded by people she loves immensely and has found a commitment to truth, clarity, and humanity.
JEREMIAH KIM is currently a junior majoring in English and minoring in Asian American Studies. Once upon a time he thought that nothing he thought would ever matter to anyone other than himself, his mom, his therapist, and his professor. But then reading and growing with APAA made him realize that ideas do matter, and that the body is, in fact, not a border. 28
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About the Writers KAREN LI and LINDA HE are two twentysomethings who currently work together, live together and (used to but maybe one day again!) write The Pacific together. APAA brought the two strangers together and the rest is history. MOHAMMAD RADIYAT is a graduate student at Columbia University studying data science. Before graduating from Cornell in 2015 he was a member of Asian Pacific Americans for Action. If you happen to find him and he is playing Super Smash Bros Melee, please do not disturb =). NUHA FARIHA is currently pursuing a doctorate in osteopathic medicine at PCOM. She joined APAA to learn more about Asian American advocacy and coalition building and wants to use these to inform her medical practice. In her free time, she enjoys listening to hardcore rap and walking around the city. XIAO YIN MA is a graduating senior in Chemical Engineering and Asian American Studies. Her involvement in the community began with performing KYR skits in the NYC subways with high school youths. Ever since, she has been interested in understanding human relationships, as she believes this is the key to everything. Her favorite hobby is talking to the OGs.
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