Photography Editor Kat Tran • PR Director Ellie Uchida-Prebor • PR Director Michi Tang
STAFF
WRITER Abby Renger • WRITER Ananya Pradhan • WRITER Morgan Hurd• WRITER Sachi Shinde• WRITER Lauren Wong WRITER Arissa Latif • WRITER Sasha Cumming • WRITER Nandini Patel • WRITER Muyao Guan • WRITER Vicky Shi DESIGNER Ceyan Ang • DESIGNER Divya Somayaji • DESIGNER Jennifer Jia • DESIGNER Maya Rudo • DESIGNER Tina Mei DESIGNER Joy Chen • DESIGNER Brynn Li • DESIGNER Julia Su • DESIGNER Enchang Fan • DESIGNER Katheri Almeda PHOTOGRAPHER Andrea Sison • PHOTOGRAPHER Eddy Chen • PHOTOGRAPHER Julia Lin • PHOTOGRAPHER Gracie Lucas • PHOTOGRAPHER Rayvin Velasco PHOTOGRAPHER Shirin Waheed • PHOTOGRAPHER Aadithi Arjun • PHOTOGRAPHER Jiro Ordonio • PHOTOGRAPHER Andria Subhit • PUBLICITY Brian Paz • PUBLICITY Colin Strom • PUBLICITY Emma Salcedo • PUBLICITY Maika Huynh • PUBLICITY Jennifer Lam PUBLICITY Ho-Jung Lee • PUBLICITY Lisa Wong • PUBLICITY Srinithi Reddy
A LETTER FROM THE EDITOR
DEAR READER,
My heart beats with both pride and gratitude to be introducing to you Issue 27: Authenticity.
These feelings compel me to issue to you a disclaimer: Achieving authenticity is nothing easy.
For a while, this issue’s title seemed to taunt me, asking to tear me between the different groups and identities I share. It asked me, “Which one is really you?” In overseeing the publication of the magazine, I found my answer. Issue 27 is a testament to the difficult conversations needed both inwardly and with each other as the APID community strives to understand itself and its potential for change. With stories that cover and question both community and convention,
Sparks continues to shine a light over the meaning of being APID American.
With the legislative attacks made on minority groups and their visibility across Florida, it’s important more now than ever to realize the power in our voices as people, as students. I write with incredible pride when I say that my team this semester — my editors, my directors, and my staffers — all work with this power. Their transformation into advocates and artists precedes mine as my blueprint. The passion each of them pour into their work to excel and make impact is my greatest inspiration.
Reader, I encourage you to reach an understanding of “authenticity” that isn’t dichotomous — one that doesn’t compromise your roots nor your aspirations. I encourage you to take that understanding to heart, to then learn and understand yourself, to then extend that understanding to your loved ones. We all have the power to lead nuanced, empathetic lives. Our connections are things to be loud and proud about. And that’s what being authentic means.
Presence is power. Step up and be heard for all of yourself.
WITH HOPE,
JUSTIN FERNANDEZ EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
6 | Friendly Neighborhood Buboy
No Idea Who Buboy Is? (By Morgan Hurd)
8 | We Will Not Be Swept Under the Rug Despite UF’s Shutdown of DEI Programs, the Asian American Community Endures (By Muyao Guan)
10 | Dear Britain, We Want Our Diamond Back!
Appreciating South Asian Culture Through Proper Education, Not Appropriation (By Ananya Pradhan)
12 | An Un-pho-gettable Romance
Addressing the Growing Number of APIDA Appearances in Romantic Novels and Films (By Vicky Shi)
14 | American Born Confused Desi (By Nandini Patel)
16 | Putting the Culture in Horticulture Asian Plants on Campus (By Abby Renger)
18 | Looking the Part
The Complexities of Being Mixed-Race in AASU (By Sasha Cumming)
20 | The Impact of K-Pop
A Look Into the Toxic Side of K-Pop Fan Culture (By Sachi Shinde)
22 | A Culinary Trip Through Asia
An Exploration of the Traditional APIDA Family Recipes Among First-Year UF Students (By Arissa Latif)
24 | Polished Success
The Rise of Vietnamese-Americans in the U.S. Nail Industry (By Lauren Wong)
26 | Trying to Become the Dragon I Was Not (By Sophia Han)
No Idea who Buboy is?
written by: Morgan Hurd
Growing up Filipino, Buboy was destined to have a role in music.
A tiny plastic guitar, with buttons in place of strings, hooked up to the TV. A young boy and his sisters stood in front, eyes glued to the screen. “Guitar Hero”— a classic 2005 game where anyone can become a rockstar as they play on the plastic instruments, following the colors for notes on the screen. This was the first guitar that Buboy ever picked up. Although it wasn’t real strings that he was playing, “Guitar Hero” fostered his comprehension in playing music. Music had been a strong presence in his life from a young age, but it wasn’t until a few years later that it would create an entirely different world for Buboy.
Like every early 2000s pre-teen who had dreams of becoming a reallife rock star, Buboy learned how to play the guitar (one not made of plastic with buttons for strings) from YouTube. He began with songs that he liked and progressed steadily. In 2018, there was a rise in bed pop artists like Clairo and Boy Pablo. These small artists were brave enough to share their talents with whoever was willing to listen, inspiring Buboy to believe that maybe he could do the same. He watched as these artists, with just their phones and voices, went viral all from the comfort of their own homes.
What’s My Name?
Around the end of middle school, Buboy created an Instagram account to begin sharing his work. It didn’t take long for him to decide on a username. No one ever called him by his government name, Adriel. In fact he didn’t even know his name was Adriel until preschool, when it was pointed out to him that the items with “Adriel” written on them, were in fact, his. Buboy, the name reserved for the youngest son of the family in Filipino culture, was the only correct answer in his mind. That’s how everyone knew him, whether in his family or not.
Growing up in the predominantly white area of Gainesville, the tight-knit Filipino community was essential in Buboy’s growth. With his involvement performing at church, he was heavily encouraged to share his talents and Buboy.con, his Instagram account, was created. Straight away, he was nervous as to what his American friends at school would think of his posts. To avoid even the threat of embarrassment, he blocked all of them, leaving only his Filipino friends and family to be his loyal following. He felt as if he had a secret identity, like his favorite
However, his following grew at an event during his freshman year of high school. International Day was a cultural show where students had the option to perform for extra credit. Buboy gathered a group of friends to sing a Spanish song and a Filipino song. However, when the time came to perform, he was the only one singing. He walked off the stage anticipating the negative comments that were about to come his way, but this was far from the case. Many of his friends were in shock, not knowing that this side of him existed. One friend even said, “I thought you were talentless.” Now everyone in Buboy’s world was witness to his talent.
Following the Spider Man-like reveal of Buboy, he allowed anyone to follow his account, leaning further into the art of music.
Buboy has an idea of who he is
Buboy describes his first song “No Idea” as straightforward, juvenile and coming of age. He was inspired by his own experience as a freshman, timidly walking through the school’s hallways, crushing on a senior who had no idea who he was. Buboy and his friend, Terry Ford, produced the entire song in Ford’s bedroom. After uploading the song to Spotify and Apple Music, he began to feel like a legitimate artist.
“I remember when I was posting about it and I could search it up on Instagram stories … I was like, wow, it’s there, it’s literally there, and I could put it on my own playlist, it could be right next to songs that I like.
photos by/
Andrea Sison & Morgan Hurd
design by/
Tina Mei model/
Buboy
inspired by the aspects of growing up, being a teenager and navigating life, Buboy wrote more songs and began playing live shows. In November 2023, a member of the Filipino Student Association at Portland State University discovered Buboy through TikTok and asked him to perform at their cultural show. Only being his fourth live show ever, Buboy and his band traveled to the opposite coast to perform. “It just felt so not real to be somewhere, to be on a different coast and to be playing my music for people and for people to know it and sing back to me.” From then on, he said, music stopped being just a hobby and turned into a full, committed passion.
“Ever since I started, I can’t stop.”
Over the past four years, Buboy has released a total of five singles and performed at a handful of events. Buboy is now somewhat of a phenomenon, particularly within the Filipino community. Racing through University of Florida’s campus, it’s not an uncommon occurrence for Buboy to be recognized by one of his listeners. They often are in shock, not truly believing that he’s a real student that goes to the same university as them.
From a young age, Buboy was destined to have music in his life. With his Filipino community’s constant support, he was able to strive to achieve whatever he put his mind to. From the moment he began singing in church, there were people who believed he would grow to be something one day. From this, Buboy feels a responsibility. He has garnered attention and support from so many people, and all he wants is to make his community proud. Buboy is determined to put his best foot forward, showcasing the amount of passion and dedication he puts into his music. into his music.
“I just remember that people need [my music]. And if I stop, then they’ll never find that about themselves or they’ll never make a connection with somebody. People can
find whatever connection they have in a song, any song of mine.”
We Will Not Be Swept Under the Rug
Despite
UF’s shutdown of DEI programs, the Asian American community endures
written by: Muyao Guan
Nearly all Asian Americans question the meaning of their identity: is being Asian American just an excessive, welldeserved appreciation for bubble tea? Or is it something deeper – a sense of identity and belonging that thrums within? These questions are asked by nearly all Asian Americans, including Asian American students at the University of Florida.
It is no secret that places such as California and New York are notable for their Asian American populations, featuring enclaves that promote the celebration of Asian culture, communities that continue on Asian heritage and most importantly people that identify with their Asian roots. Some of the United States’ biggest Chinatowns can be found in San Francisco, Los Angeles and New York City. Flushing, part of the NYC borough of Queens, boasts a population where over 69% self-identify as Asian and is a flourishing example of this cultural phenomenon.
It is also no secret that UF is a predominantly white university in a state where Asian Americans only make up 2.3% of the population. While there are Asian American niches and enclaves, they are few and far between, centered on major cities and corresponding metropolitan areas. Wherever there are Asian Americans, there is an effort to preserve and celebrate their culture. For example, major cities such as Tampa and Orlando feature weekend Mandarinlanguage schools for Chinese and Taiwanese immigrants to educate their children. However, the unfortunate reality is that demand is often too low to sustain every cultural practice. “There’s a Chinese school in Tampa, but there’s no Japanese
school,” said Keiko Moral, a UF health sciences major who identifies as half-Japanese. “I knew four other Japanese people at my high school and they were all half-Japanese, like me. There’s just not enough people to keep the culture going.” Additionally, even in places where these cultural services do exist, they are often inaccessible to those who live far away or have limited resources.
Compared to communities with the number of Asian Americans in single digits, the overwhelming diversity of UF’s campus in comparison is jarring. At UF, there has always been a place for the Asian American identity, even with the uneasy rumors and news headlines circulating about the rampage to end diversity, equity, and inclusion programs.
Or has there?
A Brief Timeline
In the 1960s and 70s, African American students fought for equal rights and representation, and as a result, the Institute of Black Cultures (IBC) was founded to provide those resources. The establishment of La Casita, the Institute for Hispanic-Latino Cultures, followed the same pattern in the 1990s.
In the 1990s, UF students rallied around a pan-Asian ethnic identity to fight for the same resources given to the IBC and La Casita. They formed the Asian Student Union (AASU) — which would later become today’s Asian American Student Union — to advocate for Asian American spaces, support and recognition. By the 2000s, this fight for space became a desire for institutional support.
“Wherever there are Asian Americans, there is an effort to preserve and celebrate their culture.”
As time went on, the Asian American community grew from a small office space run by a single graduate student working part-time to a room in Reitz’s Center for Inclusion and Multicultural Engagement (CIME) with a full-time director for Asian American affairs.
That is, until 2024.
photos by/ Andria Subhit design by/ Ceyan Ang models/ Nandika Regatti, Adrian Moreno & Trunk Nguyen
Shutting It Down
In May 2023, Governor Ron DeSantis passed a law banning Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives in Florida public colleges. This followed his hostile takeover of the New College of Florida, where he appointed six new conservative members of their board of trustees and began to target programs he referred to as “woke indoctrination.”
In March 2024, to comply with the new law, the University of Florida announced that it would be shutting down its DEI programs, ending DEI-related outside contracts, and firing full-time DEI staff. In August 2024, the CIME closed with little prior notice and no notification of when it would potentially reopen. There is no evidence of it existing aside from an outdated Facebook page bearing its former name, UF Multicultural & Diversity Affairs (MCDA), where the last post was from over a year prior in April 2023.
“The abrupt and silent closure erased decades of work that Asian American students had worked hard to establish.”
The abrupt and silent closure erased decades of work that Asian American students had worked hard to establish. The Asian American community once had the support of UF itself through the CIME. And now, it is gone like it never existed.
Phillip Cheng, a Gainesville Asian American advocate and former president of the UF Association of Asian Alumni, remarks that “[CIME’s closure was very] disturbing and very upsetting… It feels like we’re being swept under the rug.”
The CIME was not just a building. It was a space for people to express their true identities. Being Asian American was not just a statistic for admissions; it was an avenue in which one could learn and grow. In addition to fostering friendships, support and connections, the CIME addressed issues beyond social identity by hosting workshops and professional development seminars.
“[It’s] like they want us to disappear into nothingness.” Cheng said. “There’s no acknowledgement of what was.”
What Next?
Because institutions like CIME and AASU have seemingly always been around to foster the difficult dialogue of representation and equal rights, activism is tough to imagine in a world where Asian Americans have become comfortable and secure. But, as Cheng put it, “[The] UF administration has done the most terrible job of nothing,” he said. “They’re essentially being complicit… not doing anything and not saying anything, that’s cowardly.”
“The Asian American community cannot grow complacent, and UF cannot sweep what it means to be Asian American under a rug.”
The Asian American community cannot grow complacent, and UF cannot sweep what it means to be Asian American under a rug. The erosion of UF Asian American representation that has been fought so hard to establish by previous generations should not be undermined by the whims of politicians and administrators who do not understand the experience and identity of being Asian American. It is much more than just a label or a club; it is an identity, a shared cultural heritage and a community.
Even without CIME and institutional support from UF itself, AASU and its supporting student organizations still foster a community without a dedicated physical space. With general body meetings, cultural showcases, dance groups and even appreciation of cuisine, culture can continue to endure and even flourish in an uncertain political climate.
UF may attempt to erase DEI and APIDA representation, but where there are Asian Americans, there will always be Asian American culture and diversity. We have to remember who came before us and let that fuel our fight into the future.
Dear Britain, We Want Our Diamond Back!
Appreciating South Asian culture through proper education, not appropriation
written by: Ananya Pradhan
Known for its extraordinary brilliance and weighing 105.6 carats, the Koh-i-Noor diamond has stood as a symbol of great value and prosperity of South Asia ever since its discovery in the 13th century. However, the diamond now sits over 4,000 miles away in the Jewel House of London at the Tower, now appearing as a symbol of colonialism and controversy. The diamond’s transfer was not merely a transaction of wealth, but rather a reflection of the tendency for dominant cultures to appropriate what is deemed valuable in marginalized ones. Often, this has minimized the significance of several historical artifacts and traditions and is an issue that remains prevalent today.
This is especially problematic for a region as large as South Asia, each country emphasizing connected traditions tied to nature, family and peace. Even with the uniqueness displayed in these aspects, South Asian culture is often a target for negative stereotypes and misconceptions, despite its common appropriation in Western culture.
SCANDINAVIAN SHAWL OR DUPATTA?
During late spring, also known as “wedding season,” a trend displaying South Asian fashion gained momentum on several social media platforms. This style is characterized by vibrant colors, heavy accessorizing and often the draping of a dupatta or chunni, similar to a scarf. However, out of the several thousands of posts representing these outfits, one TikTok video drew extra attention — a fashion influencer commenting on photos of women dressed with dupattas/ chunnis, labeling the aesthetic as “European” and more specifically, “Scandinavian.”
As someone who often wears similar outfits, she remarked, “This style of dressing has been in my culture for a very long time, so seeing it be rebranded to fit within Western aesthetics rather than its own thing was a bit odd to me.”
Similarly, second-year student Deshna Soni comes from an Indian background and is also on the directorial board of the university’s Indian Student Association (ISA), responsible for planning their annual garba event. As a celebratory dance for the religious festival of Navratri, garba is associated with colorful and flowy clothing, and to Soni, “appreciating one’s culture can come more when you look the part and embrace the fashion.”
“A lot of things get brushed aside with us in the media and it really does more harm than good, giving us a box that is hard to come out of. It’s sad that it’s hard to think about being Indian without thinking of racist stereotypes.”
- Kriti Shah
While there was extreme backlash against the “Scandinavian shawl” moment, this is not the first time South Asian fashion has been appropriated in this manner. Several clothing trends such as indo-chic or hippie are marketed with desi patterns and popularized amongst the general public, despite traditional South Asian clothing producing the opposite effect.
It has gotten even more extreme, such as in cases similar to Gucci’s release of the “Indy Full Turban” in 2018. Turbans have a very defining religious significance in Sikhism, a religion originating from the Indian state of Punjab, by the men who wear them. Gucci’s adaptation of the turbans trivialized this religious significance and sparked controversy on its harmful impacts towards misrepresentation.
Third-year University of Florida student Adrita Ali comes from a Bangladeshi background and is also the historian for the university’s Bangladeshi Student Association (BSA).
These examples of cultural appropriation are not just limited to fashion. They extend into other forms of mainstream
photos by/ Rayvin Velasco & Jiro
Ordonio design by/
Divya Somayaji model/Aradhana Hegde
media including music and TV shows, with South Asian culture being utilized to add a more “exotic” perspective. But the true problem does not stem from the use of certain instruments, visual aesthetics, or other symbols. It comes from the lack of depth and cultural understanding that accompanies this use. The question of what qualifies as cultural appropriation has, unfortunately, created room for stereotyping, leading to both inaccurate portrayals of South Asians and instances of targeted racism.
NEGATIVITY IN THE MEDIA
This issue is further propagated by the media with negative portrayals of South Asians, most often done by stereotyping without sufficient reasoning. “I’ve seen a lot of attention being drawn to our holidays, especially with Diwali … the media has depicted it as a holiday focused on pollution without trying to show the significance of it, despite similar things being done for other Western holidays,” said Soni. She also recalled being a victim of stereotyping, one example being from oiling her hair. While this has become a more acceptable practice as the benefits become more popularized, she remembered how “going to school with oil in my hair when I was younger would always raise judgmental questions related to the smell and slickness.”
APPRECIATION FOR THE FUTURE
Like Shah and many others, Ali’s participation in cultural organizations has influenced her to educate others on South Asian culture, which she does by planning BSA events. “I hope to see every South Asian embrace their culture instead of shying away or being embarrassed, because that is what enables others to take from our traditions and label it as their own.” Alongside this, Ghadge also believes in the necessity for not just better education, but also better interpretation. “We need to be more mindful of understanding what something is, how accurate it is and how much it represents, especially if we are unaware about the culture,” he said. “The media should do better to be incumbent on giving everyone more diverse perspectives and as critical consumers, we should do better to eliminate overthinking on mindless information, especially those pertaining to comedic exaggerations [memes].”
Ravi Ghadge, an assistant professor in urban sociology at UF, studies how people cope with everyday racialized events and its association with racial awareness. In his opinion, South Asian culture is often targeted by negative media portrayal due to the “problem of monolith grouping and not fully understanding the range of diversity it offers, making it mold western aesthetics.” Ghadge has also said how he has heard of experiences where his colleagues, specifically those in minority groups, do not often feel heard or recognized for the work they do. “This is due to the American structure for assimilation, made to fit and promote inferiority towards outside cultures, limiting people from holding onto them as they should,” Ghadge said.
Similar to how several South Asian TikTok users fought against the misrepresentation of the dupatta/chunni, many others attempt to combat this issue by involving themselves in relevant cultural organizations and initiatives. This is the case for second-year UF student Kriti Shah, a member of ISA’s garba and Bollywood fusion dance teams. While this is her way of showcasing cultural appreciation, she also described that “a lot of things get brushed aside with us in the media and it really does more harm than good, giving us a box that is hard to come out of. It’s sad that it’s hard to think about being Indian without thinking of racist stereotypes.”
With this, efforts highlighting the importance of cultural appreciation and proper representation reinforce a sense of ownership over cultural heritage. The eventual reclamation of the Koh-i-Noor diamond will not just be about the gem, but also the importance of honoring South Asian culture and its inspiration for future generations.
“I hope to see every South Asian embrace their culture instead of shying away or being embarrassed, because that is what enables others to take from our traditions and label it as their own.”
- Adrita Ali
Addressing the growing number of APID appearances in romantic novels and films.
written by: Vicky Shi
There has been an increasing number of films and novels featuring APID main characters. From the beloved “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” to “Crazy Rich Asians,” APID representation in romantic literature and film is on the rise. One of the suspected reasons for this phenomenon is the growing number of Asian Americans in the United States. According to the Pew Research Center, from 2000 to 2019, the Asian community expanded by approximately 88%. Even though the Asian population is still considered a minority in the U.S., this growth is impressive. This leads to an unprecedented number of APIDs joining the literature and film industries.
As their numbers grow, many Asian authors and filmmakers want to include their cultural elements in their work. Matthieu Felt, assistant professor of Japanese at the University of Florida, explains why this could be the case: “Foreign language enrollments are going off the cliff. Korean and Japanese are doing better than basically every other language in terms of enrollment numbers at U.S. universities.” As more students become interested in different Asian languages, they are able to use their newly learned skills to communicate
and learn about Asian culture. This knowledge inspires them to make content regarding APIDs.
Asian Fetishization
On the other hand, some critics suspect that the increase of Asian leads in romantic literature and films is due to fetishization. Historically, many Asian countries have been extensively colonized, and women there were often raped, sexually assaulted and impregnated during these conflicts. This led to many Asians being viewed as inferior. Even worse, during the 18th and 19th centuries, many Euro-Americans, obsessed with adopting East Asian cultures, began to view Asian women as ornaments rather than human beings. To this day, the fetishization of Asian women still exists and is commonly coined as “yellow fever.” The normalization of this type of fetishization has contributed to many negative stereotypes of Asian women. For example, Lily Onakuramara from “Pitch Perfect” exhibits a shy and quiet personality. This presents Asian women as having similar personalities, which makes them a target for individuals who have a fetish for submissive partners. Additionally, Asian men like Rajesh Koothrapalli from the CBS comedy television show “The Big Bang Theory” are shown in a very emasculated way
photos by/
Gracie Lucas design by/ Julia Su model/ Rachel Lee
through their inability to converse with women. Presenting Asian women as submissive and Asian men as emasculated reinforces unfair gender stereotypes on both sides, thereby normalizing Asian women’s “need to be dominated” by other ethnic groups.
Characters similar to Lily and Rajesh contribute to the Asian women and white men trope as well as the fetishization surrounding interracial relationships. Jalena Dinh, a third-year at UF, is currently in an interracial relationship. When asked if these stereotypes affected her trust in her partner in the beginning stages of her relationship, she answered, “a little bit ... when you are starting off a relationship you don’t know them, so you’re going to think about all the possibilities, even fetishization. But when I got to know him, I knew he loved me because he took the time to appreciate me and my cultural identity.”
Even though these stereotypes have not significantly influenced Dinh, she still believes there are better ways to represent Asian Americans to eliminate these harmful stereotypes. She commented, “[Filmmakers] should make Asian individuals normal casts in films. They shouldn’t emphasize that [characters] are Asian because it doesn’t really matter … I feel like showing [Asian culture] should not be so excessive to the point where it creates stereotypes.” By presenting APID characters as more than simply their ethnic background, audiences will come to love them for their personality and unique identity.
Asia’s Booming Media Industry
The increase in APID representation in romantic literature and film is the growing influence of Asian culture. Christopher Smith, assistant professor of Japanese at UF, when asked why he believes more APID romance content is entering the U.S. consumer
market, commented, “Advent technology has allowed [Asian] media to come into the West in a way that bypassed traditional institutions like cable channels and broadcast stations … that might limit [Asian] media.”
One big reason behind this cultural awareness is widespread internet access and government funding. As more people gain access to the internet, they are exposed to a variety of cultures. Many Asian countries saw the potential in this and took advantage of it. For example, according to CNN in 2011, Japan supplied 19 billion yen ($237 million) to its creative industries such as anime, graphic design, film and fashion. Even Netflix, an American media company, pledged to spend $2.5 billion on South Korean TV shows and films according to a report by “Time Magazine.” Most of these shows are romantic K-Dramas, which further explains the rise of APID representation in romance genres. More recently, Asian trends and popular culture have infiltrated the US. According to Forbes Magazine, “Squid Game,” a Netflix series featuring an all-Asian cast, reached number one on Netflix’s Top 10 list in 90 countries. The beloved movie series, “Despicable Me,” features Chinese zodiacs and kung fu in their sequel “Minions: The Rise of Gru.”
As more APIDs become leads in romantic plotlines, one can expect to see more representation. Many factors contribute to this growing representation, including expanding populations, increased interest in Asian culture, funding and internet availability. Although there is not a singular determining factor, rising APID leads in romantic media means a step closer to more representation and diversity in the media produced.
written by: Nandini Patel
ABCD.
American Born Confused Desi. This fourword phrase encapsulates the seemingly irreconcilable relationship between Desi and American identities. Where does one truly belong? In answering this question of identity, many are caught in a push-and-pull tugof-war battle of two cultures. In the murky, rough waters of the in-between, there’s a reflection. It mirrors unmistakably Desi features, echoing the generations of ancestors who came before. Yet, the connection falters when the voice in the reflection speaks in a hesitant and fumbled mother tongue, as though the bloodline itself is betrayed by its Western upbringing. The struggle of not being “Desi enough” and not being “American enough” captures the essence of ABCD — a feeling of being neither here nor there, and thus, ultimately, nowhere.
Origins
The South Asian Journalists Association (SAJA) style guide, created in 2003, officially defines ABCD as “a slightly derogatory name that first-generation South Asians in the U.S use to describe children who were born and brought up in America and are ‘confused’ about their South Asian background.”
The definition reflects the term’s long history, shaped by South Asian immigration in the 20th century. In 1965, the Hart-Cellar Act abolished the xenophobic quota system that barred Asian Americans from immigrating to the U.S.
The term ABCD likely came into use in the mid- to late1980s on college campuses in the U.S. where new migrants intersected with the younger South Asians born to the post1965 generation. According to Vijay Prashad, author of “The Karma of Brown Folk,” second-generation South AsianAmericans’ lives were “lived through U.S. racism.” However, for first-generation South Asians, racism wasn’t as key to their social development. At some point, ABCD was coined as a counter-slur to FOB, or “fresh off the boat.” Americanborn Desis already had to contend with racism, including harassment from South Asian-targeted hate groups, like Dotbusters. The use of the term FOB against first-generation immigrants was a way for American-born Desis to distance themselves from South Asians that were far more foreign than they were. Overall, the very inception of the term ‘ABCD’ is rooted in creating superficial divisions between Desis, continuing into the present day.
Chen models/Tikiri
Ekanayake,
Nandika
Regatti
Struggles with Cultural Identity
American-born Desis have to navigate broader societal pressures alongside this struggle of cultural identity. Ravi Ghadge, sociology professor at the University of Florida who is of Indian ancestry, discussed how “[the very] idea of nationality is racialized.” This creates an inherent tension in what defines being American, with Asian Americans in particular being viewed as perpetual foreigners regardless of how much they’ve assimilated. Their skin color and features other them from ‘real’ Americans.
In “On Hyphens and Racial Indicators,” Tanya Golash-Boza, a sociology professor at the University of Kansas, argues that white Americans can simply identify as American, while POC hyphenate (ex. Asian-American) due to racialization. A hyphen can help represent the richness of having multiple identities, but it can also imply a lack of fully belonging.
Racialization perpetuates stereotypes like the model minority myth, which applies a onedimensional expectation of success solely based on Asian identity. Ghadge emphasized this myth as another cultural pressure that “masks inequities” and “pits communities against each other.” This ties heavily into the ABCD experience. If second-generation Desis don’t feel accepted by either cultural group, society will impose its own narrow view. Individuals can even fall victim to these expectations by internalizing or attempting to meet these expectations, even when it doesn’t reflect who they really are. These factors reduce varied experiences and complex narratives, forcing second generation immigrants to prove their Americanness.
Personal Experiences
Navigating the question of identity is filled with tensions. Jaden Hassan, a secondyear undergraduate student at the University of Florida, is half-Bengali and halfwhite. His interactions with white relatives were clouded by stereotypes and mistrust regarding his Bengali-Muslim background. Hassan described how “they took the media and the news to more value than what I had to say.” In reality, there are many similarities between Islam and Christianity as Abrahamic faiths. What could’ve been opportunities for points of connection were
convoluted by their fear of the unknown. This experience exemplifies how those with hyphenated identities will always have to contend with societal expectations of race and identity, fueling isolation.
Racialization ties heavily into the idea of “passing” as a certain race. If someone, like Hassan, “passes” as brown, it can shape simplistic assumptions rather than revealing the multidimensional nature of their identity. This means erasure of the significance of one culture over another from external forces, fueling the confusion characteristic of the ABCD experience. The pressure to fit into a box exacerbates identity conflict.
Hassan grew up culturally more Bengali, with its collectivist values shaping his communication style — emphasizing politeness and respecting privacy. Simultaneously, he’s spent most of his life in the United States and semi-raised under his white family’s leniency and individualistic culture. Both of these influences, however contradictory, still inform his identity. He described how his first-generation Bengali relatives called him ABCD. “In their opinion, they think we’re confused because we’re not following their traditional ways, we’re following the American way.” It’s difficult to straddle the line between cultural assimilation and preservation. There’s a heavy emotional toll on second-generation Americanborn Desis when it comes to grappling with dual expectations, identity confusion, and pressure to conform to one side or another.
Ghadge, besides being a sociology professor, is also a first-generation immigrant and a father to American-born Desis. He values cultural preservation, making it a priority for his kids to know their language and culture. Simultaneously, he’s aware that their push towards assimilating to American culture could mean lost cultural identity over time.” He emphasized that “[many] parents aren’t able to appreciate the context in which their kids are raised,” adding that “it’s unrealistic to compare lifestyles.” Ghadge tries to foster a sense of connection rather than being ignorant to the unique circumstances that are shaping the lives of his kids. It’s important to have this understanding rather than creating divisions between generations for being more or less connected to their culture.
The ‘C’ in ABCD should define the experience of the entire South Asian diaspora: everyone’s confused. First-generation immigrants struggle with cultural preservation as a source of stability as they navigate survival. On the other hand, American-born Desi lives are defined by a push towards integration that can make one feel caught between worlds. The quest to define one’s identity is universal. Rather than seeing confusion as turbulent or isolating, it can become a source of unity for Desis as they navigate their lives.
Asian Plants on Campus
Written by: abby renger
When one thinks of the contributions of Asian Pacific Islander Desi American immigrants to America, their mind likely does not turn to the topic of agriculture. Yet, various APIDA crops have benefited the country and the state of Florida economically, socially and agriculturally.
APIDA currently constitute less than 1% of the farming population, but they were once highly involved in the development of agricultural infrastructure, especially on the West Coast and Hawaii. At one point, Chinese immigrants made up 75% of California’s agricultural workers. Many of these immigrants were recruited to work in Hawaii on sugar and rice plantations, and approximately two-thirds of this population stayed in Hawaii permanently. These residents raised livestock and grew rice, taro, coffee as well as other vegetables and fruits.
Some of the first Japanese immigrants were drawn to Hawaii as recruits to work on sugar and pineapple plantations. They produced
40% of California’s commercial vegetable crop between the end of the 19th century and before the Second World War. Additionally, as the Chinese Exclusion Act was implemented, the agricultural labor shortage was replaced with Japanese, Filipino, Sikh, Punjabi and Korean immigrants.
Some of the early Chinese immigrants to California came from the Pearl River Delta region in southeast China. The farming techniques used in this part of China lended to very successful farmers in California’s Sacramento River Delta marshlands, which hosts land very similar to that in the Pearl River Delta region. These immigrants brought their experience with irrigation, crop rotation and fertilization, transforming the land in remarkable ways. For example, their specialized knowledge around growing asparagus led to the area becoming the “asparagus capital of the world.” Furthermore, California had previously heavily relied on imports to support a quickly growing population, but with the help of immigrants, the state became an agricultural powerhouse.
photos by/ Rayvin Velasco design by/ Brynn Li
From THE Pearl River Delta to THE Sacramento River Delta
One student, Amitha Karuppia, a junior horticultural sciences major at UF, said that most of her classes focus primarily on the industrial practices that are most common in the US. She contrasts these practices with the sustainable, smaller-scale, organic farming that her family practices in India that those without personal connections to APIDA agricultural techniques may not be
“My farm back in India was mainly a coconut and peanut [or groundnut] farm. I’m interested in exploring the cultural farming practices that they used on the farm, because American industrial farming is really different from the
-Amitha Karuppia
Although a formal comparison between industrial vs small scale farming does not currently exist in the UF agriculture curriculum, students must supplement their education through extracurriculars. Karuppia mentions that she and her APIDA classmates connect to their hometowns abroad or their cultural backgrounds with the help of on-campus gardens. Through certain classes or joining clubs, like the Horticultural Sciences Student Club, students can plant crops of their own. Some plants that she and her friends have chosen to grow include
It is not lost on students that innovations relevant to the present and future can be born out of historical contributions to science. Perhaps, with the lack of asian representation in their courses, students themselves can spread awareness through student groups about the foundational contributions APID immigrants provided when they first migrated to the United States. Some of these clubs include the aforementioned Horticulture Sciences Students Club, the Organic and Sustainable Agriculture Club (OSAC) and Minorities in Agriculture, Natural Resources and Related Sciences (MANRRS). It is worth noting that most of these clubs accept students from all majors, so the opportunity to connect with one’s culture through agriculture is an exciting one that all Origin:
China
Japan
asian horticulture from wilmot gardens
Looking the Part
The complexities of being mixed-race in AASU
written by: Sasha Cumming
“Race is fiction,” according to Malini Johar Schueller, a professor in the English department at the University of Florida. Like fiction, race is subjective and dependent on one’s personal experiences. The mixed-race experience is diverse, and each individual engages with their cultural identity differently. However, there are commonalities among mixed-race peoples’ experiences connecting with their cultures in and outside of the Asian American Student Union (AASU). Mixed-race Asian Pacific Islander Desi Americans often relate to experiences with conflicting perceptions, the pressure to pick one race to engage with and the novelty of exploring multiple cultures.
The External Gaze
Racial ambiguity is a particularly applicable term to mixed-race APIDAs because the Asian population is so diverse. Asian features encompass a wide range of complexions and profiles — it is difficult to point to a specific feature on a mixed-race person’s face and declare with certainty that it is Asian. Olivia McMaster, the previous president of the Korean Undergraduate Student Association (KUSA), is half-white and halfKorean. However, people have assumed that she is entirely Korean, white, or even Hispanic. Assumptions made about a person’s race may seem harmless, but they can lead to unintentional insults to a person’s identity. For example, McMaster felt pressure to conform to the white side of her identity because others constantly commented on her mixed heritage.
People often assume that she is ignorant about Filipino culture based on her appearance, without any consideration of her personal experience connecting with the culture. While Baldwin may not appear fully Filipino, her parents have worked hard to immerse her in Filipino culture, and she chooses to continue to connect with it. She feels hurt that others question her claim over her culture. Reading a quote from Michelle Zauner’s “Crying in H Mart” marked a turning point in Baldwin’s relationship with race: “I could never be of both worlds, only half in and half out, waiting to be ejected at will by someone with greater claim than me. Someone whole.” Baldwin realized and was heartened that her frustrations with the external gaze were shared by others.
Likewise, Samantha Baldwin, Vice President of Membership for the Filipino Student Association (FSA), expressed her frustration when others questioned her presence at FSA events because they do not perceive her as Filipino. “When you don’t really pass as Asian, your identity will constantly be in question.”
“When you don’t really pass as Asian, your identity will constantly be in question.”
-Samantha Baldwin
Balancing Worlds
Mixed-race individuals often feel pressure to pick one race to identify with and devote their efforts to engaging in only one culture. Satya Clemenston, KUSA Performance Chair, sheds light on how the structure of the Center for Inclusion and Multicultural Engagement reinforced the push for students to choose one cultural organization to join. As a freshman, Clemenston learned that she could only pick one first-year introduction program.
As someone with both Korean and Jamaican heritage, she faced a difficult decision: should she participate in FiND, a program targeted towards the APIDA community or PAACT, targeted towards the African American and Black community? In the end, Clemenston chose neither, thinking it was strange to be forced to pick one.
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Julia Lin design by
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Maya Rudo models/
Satya Clemenston & Kori Verges
Kori Verges faced a similar dilemma during his first week at UF, attempting to participate in FiND and ¡ADELANTE!, its Hispanic equivalent, at the same time. He alternated between attending FiND one day and ¡ADELANTE! the next but eventually had to decide between joining HSA or FSA. Clemenston and Verges both had to make the difficult decision of deciding which cultural organization they would devote their time at UF to. Verges expressed that “it’s just not humanly possible to do all these different things at the same time.” Verges, like many other students, wanted to get involved in a plethora of opportunities on campus, but after freshman year, he quickly learned he needed to limit his commitments to fewer clubs. Both Clemenston and Verges decided to commit their time to AASU and appreciate how their decisions have led to them forming a deeper connection to their Asian cultures. However, they question if AASU could be structured in a way that allowed time to get involved in other cultural organizations.
For McMaster, the pressure to “pick one” became internal. Growing up in Korea, McMaster often found herself surrounded by kids at school doubting her Korean heritage. “Where are you from?” they’d ask. “No, where are you really from?” they’d insist. They were adamant that she was a foreigner. In an attempt to fit in, she leaned into her classmates’ comments about her white heritage and dyed her hair light brown. Occasionally, she would take pictures of herself with filters to make her eyes blue to envision herself as more white.
McMaster’s perspective shifted after watching Jessie Mei Li, a Chinese and white actress, talk about her mixed-race identity in an interview. Li discussed the pressures she felt to pick one race, making a statement that shocked and comforted McMaster: “I’m both.” A simple statement reshaped McMaster’s self-concept. She finally understood, “You don’t have to choose. You’re just both.” This thought reassured her that it is not only acceptable to be mixedrace, but that can also be a privilege.
“You don’t have to choose. You’re just both.” -Olivia McMaster
Beyond Labels
“[Being mixed-race] is a liminal perspective, but it’s an interesting one,” Schueller remarked. There are no strict borders between cultures as they interact and transform. Mixed-race people have the privilege of occupying the space of intersecting cultures. Schueller agreed that mixed-race people should be more comfortable being in between labels because cultures are not strictly defined.
“I’m glad to be mixed-race because you get to be immersed in both cultures,” McMaster summarized, emphasizing that the mixed-race experience is not wholly negative. Despite the difficulties accompanying her experiences of living in both Korea and America, McMaster values the perspective her ethnic background has given her. McMaster’s mixed heritage has made her a creative thinker, able to understand multiple perspectives.
Additionally, communities like AASU serve as an opportunity for Verges and Clemenston to make Asian friends and explore their identities alongside peers. Verges and Clemenston came to UF from Miami, where they had trouble meeting Asian people to befriend. Through AASU, Verges and Clemenston mended the disconnect they felt with their Asian side. “I have a good amount of knowledge of both of my ethnic backgrounds because of AASU,” Clemenston said.
Reflecting on the impact of others’ perceptions of her, Baldwin believes that mixed-race people should not feel the need to appease those who feel entitled to gatekeep their cultures based on ancestry. “Your identity is absolutely your own, and it’s not something that anyone else can give to you.”
“Your identity is absolutely your own, and it’s not something that anyone else can give to you.”
-Samantha Baldwin
Of The
A look into the toxic side of K-pop fan culture
written by: Sachi Shinde
Herds of fans clamor around a stage one summer evening, pumping their fists and screaming out the names of the idols dancing. In the crowd, there’s a young girl. She wishes to be more like the idols on the stage. Not knowing how different the lifestyles of idols are, she attempts the same “idol” diets and workouts the Internet recommends. Unfortunately, this toxic cycle of beauty standards being reinforced onto young audiences is common in K-pop fan culture.
With the growth of international groups such as Katseye, more cultures are inevitably being exposed to the style, rhythm and beat of K-pop. While this rise in the genre comes with a spread of unique sound and culture, some fans pick up unhealthy diets and self-impose harsh routines their favorite idols follow. Negative byproducts of this behavior include the toxic “Wonyoungism” trend, leading to harsh expectations of themselves, and increasing hostility towards the idols.
Coming from a background where thinness was ideal, Lankipalle has experience with the pressure of looking a certain way and the stress of not fitting the standard. She attempted to restrict herself — as idols did — when her family encouraged her to lose weight. Lankipalle admitted, “I think I went like, closer to two days just not eating anything. I was just drinking water…I think on day two I just gave up and it snapped me out of the pressure of trying to uphold these standards.” Her desire to look like an idol to please others has sent her into a spiral of toxicity and is an example of just how contagious the community’s culture can be.
Wonyoungism Gone Wrong
There are a plethora of ways to demonstrate gratitude to musicians. From purchasing t-shirts with the face of Jungkook to singing covers of songs, avid listeners take on the same activities their favorite artists do and try to recreate or relive iconic moments. Sravyasri Lankipalle, a first-year student at the University of Florida, observed the effect idols have on audiences.
Another example of fans taking this desire to makeover themselves is Wonyoungism, a lifestyle and aesthetic framed after a member of the South Korean group Ive, Jang Wonyoung. It is connected to her clear skin, physique, and commitment to fitness. Also known as “The Wonyoung Effect,” her image has developed a growing trend. Anyone who partakes, often young girls, is influenced to improve themselves inside and outside.
One example of a way idols have influenced their fans is by imitating the diet culture of these K-pop idols. Idols with rapid weight loss transformations are sought after, and fans perceive their appearance as linked to their fame. Fans take on these diets, some calling them “challenges,” suffering mentally and physically to attain a K-pop figure. The “Momo ice cube diet,” created for TWICE member Momo, is known for being particularly extreme. In order to lose seven kilograms in one week to debut, she ate one ice cube per day to survive.
“It’s like a typical parasocial relationship, where if you admire something about someone you try to be more like them. -Sravyasri Lankipalle
photos by/ Aadithi Arjun design by/ Enchang Fan models/ Sydney Fowler & Emily Zhang
“I think there’s a lot of double standards with fans’ receptions to their bodies.”
- Ananya Harshe
Radical self-improvement coupled with Wonyoung’s coquette and elegant aesthetics instantly captured the interest of many fans, and soon many created posts of their workouts, diets, and skincare routines. This creation of a drive for discipline would only last so long before it turned into an obsession with fitness. Having the ambition to improve health is not harmful, but many fans overlook that they lack the medical supervision and resources that idols have. Attempting to pursue these kinds of diets and activities may therefore be dangerous or unsuitable for an average person’s lifestyle.
Toxicity from Fans to Idols
The pressure and expectations that toxic fanbases implement on performers are just as harsh, as the community can sometimes denounce the idols’ looks. Many idols are fat-shamed or called ugly when the idols themselves aren’t close to being overweight. This sort of pressure is mentally and physically harmful and can lead to toxic mentalities and a stressful life.
Insecurities are prevalent throughout life, and comparing appearances between others is inevitable for many. However, reminding oneself of the conditions idols have that fans do not and the cultural differences in their lives versus their own can prevent a toxic self-image. Jasmine Younge, a fourth-year student at UF, provided insight on how to avoid trapping oneself into thinking they are not enough. As the Vice President of the K-pop dance club, Meteor.S, and a dedicated fan for years, she has experience and knowledge about handling the fan culture of K-pop. Younge said, “It’s hard to forget about insecurity when it’s posted in your face, but thinking about the fact that these girls have very different lifestyles can help.”
Stress from K-pop companies and fanbases leads to scary methods to lose weight, which ties into fans later on becoming a product of those scary methods. Starvation within a small time frame biologically degrades the body, and there are healthier alternatives to losing weight and achieving fitness goals.
The industry easily spreads delusions of thinness equating acceptance, and without proper research getting out of this cycle of erroneous thinking is difficult. Beauty is often a factor for an idol’s success, and considering the varied perceptions of beauty, it is impossible to please everyone. Fans from different backgrounds find different body types better or worse-looking without considering the sacrifices idols have already made.
It is important to realize that these idols are people with feelings and should be accounted for appropriately. Perfectionism is difficult to find, both in fans and in idols. Despite everything going well at surface level on social media, it is hard to tell what someone is going through behind closed curtains. When taking inspiration for hair, makeup, or lifestyle, it is crucial to remember that what is posted online does not tell the full story.
P LISHED
Success
The Rise of Vietnamese-Americans in the U.S. Nail Industry
written by: Lauren Wong
“Want crystal gel for your nail?” Anjelah Johnson’s 2007 comedy bit caricatured Vietnamese nail techs, but behind this stereotype lies a story of resilience: Vietnamese Americans now dominate the U.S. nail industry, building a path to economic success.
Background
During the Vietnam War, America became a refuge for millions of Vietnamese people. Actress and philanthropist Tippi Hedren, visited refugee camps in the 1960s. Inspired by a group of 20 Vietnamese refugee women admiring her manicure, she arranged for her manicurist, Dusty Coots Butera, to teach them how to paint nails. This simple act opened a path for these women — and countless others — to find work and eventually establish nail salons nationwide. With low education requirements, minimal English needed and fast earnings, the nail industry became a golden opportunity for Vietnamese immigrants.
The Rise of the Nail Industry... and the Inevitable Falls
Between the rise in the number of Vietnamese manicurists and American demand for affordable manicures, the nail industry boomed. According to the UCLA Labor Center, American nail salons’ total revenue reached $4.4 billion in 2015 with about 51% of nail salons owned by Vietnamese Americans. What was once a place reserved for wealthy white women has now become an accessible hub for people of different races and socioeconomic statuses.
Challenges soon followed this growth as increased competition led to price drops and tension among Vietnamese shop owners. In her documentary “Nailed It,” filmmaker Adele Pham describes the situation as a “race to the bottom,” causing friction between the pioneers and newer shop owners.
For some, this fear of competition remains true. My-Hanh Tran, a first-generation Vietnamese
immigrant who is a nail tech at Regal Nails Spa in Pensacola, worries about this “stepping stool” that the nail industry once provided for Vietnamese immigrants with limited English skills and education. “It seems like the nail industry for Vietnamese people is slowly in decline because people of all races are now working in salons and [the general public] have less spending money to go to nail salons because of inflation.”
Additionally, the nail industry further highlighted the historical push-and-pull between the Black and Asian communities in America. This pattern reflects a broader trend: The National Bureau of Economic Research found that immigration masses led to a threefold drop in Black employment compared to white employment, amidst a 10% increase in immigration. As Vietnamese shop owners settled in predominantly Black, lower-cost neighborhoods, strain between the communities grew. The “model minority” myth, which stereotypes Asian Americans as the “successful ones,” causes Black American struggles to be downplayed in society — reinforcing a “if they can do it, so can you” mentality that disregards the unique set of challenges each community faces.
Cultural Shifts and Stereotypes
Vietnamese Americans also began to distance themselves from the nail industry due to negative stereotypes. These stereotypes, rooted in the late1800s “Yellow Peril,” stemmed from American fears of economic competition from Chinese immigrants. This rhetoric gave rise to damaging labels like “money-hungry” and “pushy” which have continued to shape perceptions of Asian Americans. Comedian Anjelah Johnson’s routine about nail salons perpetuated these stereotypes, cementing them for a new generation. Filmmaker Adele Pham, a second-generation Vietnamese American, admitted she, too, felt embarrassed by her community’s association with the nail industry and thus chose to “stay away” from it.
Ethan Pham, a second-generation Vietnamese immigrant who works at his parents’ Organic
photos by/ Jiro Ordonio design by/ Jennifer Jia model/ Emma Martin
Nails and Spa as a nail tech, noticed that some customers still hold negative associations with Asian-run nail salons: “If we didn’t meet the customer’s satisfaction… They complained how Asian-owned nail salons always cheap out on nails.” Despite this, he still views his mother’s work as a nail salon owner as a source of pride.
The nail industry, once niche and inaccessible, was flipped on its head by Vietnamese immigrants and Black Americans. Vietnamese refugees defined their own space in the midst of destruction and division to create their own “American Dreams,” while the Black community enhanced this blossoming industry
“[My mother] put her hard work into [the salon] and seeing that business thrive is something I’m proud of and motivates me to continue working there. [The nail industry] offers me a sense of confidence rather than conflict.”
-Ethan Pham
The Influence of Black Americans on the Nail Industry
Black Americans, especially Black women, have revolutionized nail trends with charms, acrylics and bold nail art. In 1966, Donyale Luna, the first Black woman on the cover of “Vogue,” posed with acrylics. Today, Olympian Sha’Carri Richardson races with long acrylics, vibrant polishes and 3D designs. Giselle Lucina John-Baptiste, an 18-year-old Black nail technician and owner of GelledbyGigi, credits the Black community for often leading nail trends: “Long acrylics and ‘fun-junk’ designs have been really pushed and admired due to the Black community.”
Similarly, for Vietnamese immigrants, the nail industry serves as a powerful cultural foundation. Chloe Vong, a secondgeneration immigrant whose parents own Creative Nails in Lehigh Acres, finds that the nail industry has provided her family with stability and new relationships. “My mom has always loved entrepreneurship … and it’s easy for her to choose when to travel or schedule appointments. So it’s also created a footing in our own culture.” Vong also feels supported by loyal customers who follow her mother on Facebook, attend her events and have watched her grow up.
The Final Footing
Despite struggles, Vietnamese immigrants still voice their gratitude for the industry and the opportunities it provides. Ethan Pham noted that his mother’s work in the salon helped her learn English and build connections.
“I came to the U.S. basically knowing no one, but through there being so many other Viet employees, I felt like I found a community who shared the same roots as me.”
-Ethan Pham
As Robinson suggested, the challenges minorities face should be a point of unity. In a society where economic and social structures often pit marginalized groups against one another, it’s crucial to recognize that real success emerges from collaboration and mutual appreciation. Just as painted nails add a subtle yet stylish touch to everyday life, the initial compliments that sparked this journey allowed for the nail industry to be carefully cultivated and turned into a source of achievement, community and resilience. Ultimately, the American nail industry has transformed the Asian American experience, just as Asian Americans have reshaped the
Black and Vietnamese successes in the nail industry are also shared. Nail salon owners Olivett Robinson and Charlie Vo, a Black and Vietnamese duo, opened their first salon, “Mantrap,” in South Central Los Angeles in 1981. Today, this salon has evolved into a chain with 15 different locations across the U.S. Reflecting on their journey in the “Nailed It” documentary, Robinson noted how their shared trials deepened their bond, saying, “If you can feel one person’s pain or joy, then you’re reallyforever unitedwith that person.”
For John-Baptiste, Vong, Robinson, Vo and those who follow in their paths, the nail industry is more than a business. It’s a source of stability, connection and cultural pride, highlighting how Black and Vietnamese communities have redefined success and built a lasting legacy in the beauty industry.
Wdragonstend to make it on the list. Dragons, specifically Chinese dragons, are everywhere, from books, clothing, movies, and even tattoos. It seems like the Chinese are obsessed with dragons. But why is that? According to Jennifer Holland in the article “The Meaning of The Dragon Symbol in Chinese Culture,” dragons represent as symbols of power, strength, and luck. From a historical standpoint, emperors in China were originally thought to have descended from dragons, explaining their magnificent symbolism. So magnificent that every 12 years, countless Chinese parents around the world hope to bring forth a dragon baby of their own, with aspirations of luck and success for their child.
These mythical creatures loom over the
wisdom. They embody everything we ever want to have and be. However, like the impractical creature itself, Asian ideals seem to want you to chase your own shadow. Second generation Asian-Americans often find themselves in a maze: trying to live the molded path of expectations, while also searching for a way to truly be themselves. The creatures that were carefully etched into Chinese history also ironically seem to be an apt analogy of the toxicity of Asian ideals in our very own homes.
Unlike the European image of these ferocious fire dragons, I found myself relating more to the Chinese ideals of the long serpent like water dragons-except, I wasn’t riding the raging waves. I was being consumed by them as the eldest daughter in a Chinese-Burmese family.
Growing up in a traditionally South East Asian household, I was burdened by gender expectations. Women are always expected to cook and clean while also taking care of their children. Husbands barely have to worry about such responsibilities. Due to such expectations, after my siblings’ birth, I was given responsibilities of a woman despite still
During my early elementary school days, I always wanted to be at school because home was too stressful for me. Home held drowning sailors against tide, and I was their savior. Home meant taking care of my weary grandparents who could barely walk at times, making sure the two toddlers stayed out of trouble, and being on constant guard awaited my parents’ late arrival the night. I was drowning in responsibilities as I would be at the beck and call of my family on everything: bills,
By Sophia Han Design/Khoi Vu
forms, phone calls.
As I awkwardly fumbled these duties, I reminded myself of the voice of my Chinese ancestors- watching their words flow brashly through my parents, in my native tongue.
“You are the eldest child going to school in the U.S, of course you’ll be able to understand everything,” they said.
“Family is important and must be taken care of,” they said.
“Why are you crying? You have to be strong,” they said.
And of course as the young Asian girl that I was, I had to respect my elders. So I bit my lip, stopped the tears, and agreed.
My whole life, I was taught that my needs did not matter and that other people who needed me were more important than myself. I felt like I was suffocating in the waves I did not choose to ride. I imagined myself doing this forever. Tending to the needs of my family and sacrificing my life and passions to become this puppet of Asian ideals. The epitome of strength and success, the dragon.
My second year of highschool, right after the pandemic, everything began to crash down. The line between my school life, which was once my respite, and home life became blurred. My grades suddenly started crashing down as my mental health sharply declined. I wasn’t able to be the daughter I was expected to be and the student I used to. I was burnt out, exhausted, and I found myself being engulfed in the neverending current. Emotions came from every angle as I started to loathe my own Asian culture for bringing upon me the fate of familial loyalty, and the relentless shame and criticism of not being able to showcase it in service.
For the very first time, I could not get my head out of the water.
It was suddenly so clear that I was not this mythical creature looming over the ocean- but a human being. And I had human feet. Meaning, I wasn’t anchored to anyone or anything.
Stretching yourself thin for anybody is impossible, but unfortunately, I see this happening to a lot of my Asian peers. In the journal "Comparing Caregiving Needs in Asian And White Family Caregivers through a Journaling Exercise Delivered by a Conversational Agent" by Weichao Yuwen and colleagues, it is stated that
“Asian Americans are the fastest growing racial and ethnic caregiver group with nearly 1 in 5 selfidentifying as a family caregiver.” With such a high number, you can only imagine the different responsibilities/burdens facing Asian American caregivers and the impact on their own lives. In Asian culture, familial obedience and caretaking is common. The stress and impact that comes with this responsibility becomes emotionally taxing, especially to young children who experience these expectations early on.
I will always feel the effects of my experience throughout my day-to-day life. After being extremely proactive in my family’s needs as a young child, maturity has made me realize that boundaries need to be put into place, so I can live my life before catering to the needs of others. Letting my family figure things out has been a huge stressor off of my shoulders. The profuse expectations that I placed upon myself slowly washed away as I grounded myself to the shore. Beyond this, I’ve also learned to forgive. My Asian parents were immigrants, and the normalcy of their home culture was to raise high achievers. My parents were vulnerable to the fast-paced United States as they grasped at straws to maintain a
