02 | Table of Contents
STAFF LIST Editor-in-Chief SCOTT LIU INTERNAL Macy Ishida, Marlon Gamez, & Sebastian Alven EXTERNAL Kelly Bae, Kimiko Okumura, Joanna Shan, Emily Tam, & Janice Yun DESIGN Bailee Hunter, Shannon Kha, Vicky Ly, Michelle Nguyen, & Lannie Tran MARKETING Evo Pavosevich PHOTOGRAPHY Sravya Balasa, Fiona Feng, Isabella Jeturian, & Jason Lin VIDEO Nana Kato, Cris Madla, & Ivy Nguyen STYLING JASON CHIEN & KELA SOWELL WRITING Tatiana DIaz de LeOn, Justin Kim, Lina Lew, Faustina Ngo, & Annika Olives 04 | Staff List
LETTER FROM THE EDITOR During the months that this issue came together, UCSD went remote to slow the spread of COVID-19. Suddenly, our worlds became much smaller, reduced to walls in our homes, our various screens, and maybe the occasional walk to the store. The pandemic tested our collective understanding of community, empathy, vulnerability, and responsibility. Now more than ever, we must work together to support our most vulnerable, our immunocompromised, our healthcare professionals, our service workers, our low-income families, our small businesses, and those in need. Now more than ever, it is imperative that we resist and condemn xenophobia, racism, and biases. Now more than ever, we must continue to fight against racial injustice and over-policing. In the wake of COVID-19, we decided to change our issue theme. We decided to approach this issue as a time capsule — a look back at how we’ve spent our time in quarantine and what it’s meant managing time, space, and emotions. The stories in this issue are the product of a team that adapted quickly to the circumstances of the global pandemic. Allow these stories to let you reflect on what quarantine has meant to you. There is a lot to learn during this time, if we allow ourselves to be taught: what it means to return home, what it means to graduate, what it means to draw lines, and what it means to go home. Although this issue will not make it to print, I’m still fiercely proud of this team. Thank you to my Trend family (past, present, and future) for your endless dedication and neverending talent. Thank you to all our readers. Whether you’ve supported us digitally or in-person, you’re the reason we create. Thank you for believing in us. Love, Scott Editor-in-Chief
Letter from the Editor | 05
H
O
M
E
06 | Home Light and Dark
By Tatiana Díaz de León
A
fter a long day, a long week, a long few months, the idea of opening the front door, toeing off my shoes, dropping my bag on the ground and sinking into the nearest piece of furniture is what I really crave. Coming home. A weight off my back I wasn’t entirely aware was there, and maybe a moment to notice my breathing. Coming home. The safe sense of relief I feel whether I come home to my apartment after a long day on campus, or I pull up to my parents’ driveway after a tough quarter. Coming home means at least some momentary solitude, at least some time to just be me.
weeks and weeks. When will my inner artist be unleashed; when will I write a novel inspired by my life; when will I be the most productive I can be; when will I become extremely fit; when will I be?
In these months of only having the choice to stay home, these were my initial thoughts. It almost felt like I had less obligations and my biggest one was to enjoy the comfort of my own home while I could (for the safety of myself and others). It almost felt more freeing.
What has coming home done to me now? Coming home has sheltered me and fed me. Coming home has comforted me in darker times. But coming home has given me a false sense of time, and now, coming home has ironically confined me in an environment where the most action happens in my mind. Sure the world outside is a bit bleak right now, but as the days pass by, my home becomes bleaker to match. Walking my dogs and admiring the nicer details in life that I never gave much thought to before can only do so much when the daily news reminds me of the things I can’t control.
Quickly I realized it wasn’t that I had less day-to-day obligations, I just had less places to go to complete these day-today obligations. My entire life had been simplified to one roof over my head and a laptop screen. Suddenly, being home was not as freeing as it had always been before. In between trying to time-manage schoolwork, talking to friends, and figuring out what dessert to bake next, there’s disorientation. Scrolling through social media way too often to ease the itch of wanting to know what is going on with everyone else. Suddenly everyone is an artist, a baker, a musician, a writer, content creators (on Tik Tok at least), consistently working out and seemingly becoming better versions of themselves. We know that social media doesn’t represent the multi-faceted life of an individual but it’s hard to remember that when that is the only lens I see you for
Yet without physical obligations, every virtual appointment sometimes feels unreal, unimportant. I guess I cannot be who I thought. Just as much as it’s easier to attend Zoom lectures from the comfort of my bed, it’s also easier to not move an inch and lull myself back to sleep or spend an hour in a Youtube rabbithole. The things that used to make me an accountable participant in my own life are mostly absent.
Home can be a place or home can be the people, but the biggest thing is that home is a feeling. And when the different aspects of your life are thrown off balance, so are the feelings of what is comfort and what is discomfort. Work does not feel worth it without a break. School is not bearable without the people. Alone-time is not valuable without socializing. Coming home does not feel the same without leaving home. When can I leave so I can enjoy coming back again?
Home | 07
BOUND ARIES By Faustina Ngo
A
midst the whole coronavirus crisis, all we’ve heard in the news and around us are, “you need to wear a mask!”, “6 feet apart”, and “keep your distance.” all of these examples are guidelines and precautions intended to keep us safe and healthy. obviously, we need social distancing to be physically healthy—but what about boundaries as an intangible thing? boundaries, in the sense of emotions and invisible lines that we shouldn’t cross—also for the sake of healthiness. in this piece, i reflect on recent thoughts and realizations i’ve had about my boundaries in relationships, which were evoked by the large chunks of spare time i’ve had in quarantine. to include a variety of perspectives in this project, i’ve compiled thoughts from multiple interviewees regarding the topic of boundaries. i was able to find meaningful content that encompassed a myriad of different types of relationships with friends, family and significant others. FDN: boundaries. this concept... i never really learned much about it when i was younger. looking back at a lot of instances, i didn’t know how to say “no.” or maybe, i wasn’t even aware that “no” was an option—not if i wanted people to like me. i now know this mindset i had would be labelled as
08 | Boundaries
“doormat” or “pushover” behavior. my behavior not only harmed me; i was the perpetrator in some of the situations that come to mind. i don’t know if i should blame my family, my ADHD, or simply myself for forgetting some boundaries requested of me, thereby making others i cared about upset. never mind, change that language…i’m learning to not blame myself for things and just accept that i am human and humans make mistakes—like forgetting things sometimes. but the main thing is, i’m learning. and that’s the most important part. as a promise to myself, i will remember to be softer on myself as i (un)learn, grow, and thrive. only recently am i starting to understand and get a grasp of how important knowing your limits and standing your ground is. as a woman, it is even more crucial for me to learn to set boundaries and fully own my power to say “no,” or “this isn’t okay.” i must remember that i am not only doing this for people i surround myself with, but also for my self and wellbeing too. AY: i don’t think i really learned about setting boundaries and how important communication was until after my first relationship. in the moment, i thought i knew what i was doing. but after reflecting by myself and discussing with friends, i realized there were some
moments where i overstepped and where he did too. that relationship was my first heartbreak, and it really broke me. i was so used to having my issues belittled, i became afraid to bring up any problems to him because i knew what would happen. sometimes he’d subtly hint that i shouldn’t do things...there was a time when i was exploring my fashion sense and wore more crop tops, and he told me, “maybe you shouldn’t wear something that low.” i wasn’t aware then that he was kinda policing my body—a lot of the red flags i realized after the relationship were of a similar nature. they were usually subtle things that didn’t seem like much of a big deal at the moment, but now i know i would never stand for that shit. i’m glad i was able to go over my thoughts with trusted friends. they reminded me that i was allowed to feel this way, and that there were some things he shouldn’t have done. absorbing knowledge from others on the internet and having other people talk about managing their relationships really helped me learn more about what i view as important in relationships. i’m happy that i was able to grow from not knowing boundaries were a thing, to having a more concrete idea of knowing what i want beforehand. it’s important to me to be able to keep my independence and not talk to my significant other all
the time. In my current relationship, understanding communication boundaries, finding compromise between the two of us. TH: i learned pretty recently about boundaries actually. i knew of the concept of boundaries, but i didn’t understand how to translate them into reality, and practice setting them in my life. this probably had lots to do with two things—(1.) me not knowing myself enough and (2.) not knowing how to communicate for myself. now, setting boundaries is super important to me. i know what i want, whether it be relationships with friends or family. basically, in any relationship i’m in, i wanna tell the other person, “hey look this is what i’m comfortable with, and this is what im not. please respect them.” boundaries in quarantine are different. i’m still trying to get the hang of it, since all of this is so new to everyone. communication has been so weird and disconnected with social distancing happening and most of my friends aren’t even in san diego now. usually the conversation goes: “hey, quarantine is getting to me. sometimes i’m thinking too much or in my own world, so i might not reply all the time. i would also really appreciate it if you give me some space and alone time for now.”
the time if i don’t set boundaries and speak up for myself. i know my needs and my mindset will change as time goes on, which means my boundaries will also change as they align with how i am in the future. RH: i think i started learning about boundaries very early on, because my mom is super invasive. she’d always look through my stuff without my permission, and wouldn’t even let me close my bedroom door. i felt like what she was doing was wrong, but i used to justify her actions in my head because she was an adult and she was my mom. i thought that that was just how things were supposed to be, until i started having more conversations with my friends about their relationship with their parents. it wasn’t until then that i realized maybe my first instinct was right, that maybe our parents aren’t always right, and what my mom was doing was a violation of what i considered okay.
put simply, i define boundaries as people in any relationship coming together to decide what’s best for everyone. in a sense, i believe it’s important to protect yourself and others—that’s why boundaries are such a big thing for me. it’s even more important to recognize what those boundaries are, but then speaking up and then actually doing it and keeping people accountable is another task on its own.
over time, i learned to set up boundaries to keep my sanity and maintain a healthier relationship with her. that’s one of the reasons why i chose to go to UCSD for college—to put physical distance between us. i’m 100 miles away from home, which is far enough so we don’t have to interact constantly, but not too far so i can still keep in contact with my dad. also, one more thing that changed for the better with my mom happened when i finally learned to stand my ground with her. i was able to recognize that i became old enough to make rational decisions for myself and have a say in my life. rather than asking for her permission on everything and weighing her word above mine, i trusted my judgement and in my ability to handle hurdles that life threw at me. and in doing so, i grew.
before this year, i didn’t even realize boundaries were necessary and a part of self-protection and self-care. i recently realized that i’m gonna feel terrible all
my conclusions overall are, you have to know yourself in order to know where to draw the lines. boundaries are extremely important for all the people you keep
connected to in your life. regardless of how close you are with someone, there’s always gonna be a line that you shouldn’t cross, whether it’s because they aren’t comfortable or you aren’t. you might as well figure it out with them early on, especially if you want them to stay in your life long-term.
Boundaries | 09
By Lina Lew
A
t the beginning of March, nobody expected to pack their bags so soon. Nobody expected to say goodbye to the suitemates they’ve gotten so close with. Nobody expected to return their keys and move back home before the start of spring quarter. The COVID-19 pandemic forced many students to flock home and seek refuge in our hometowns and old high school bedrooms. But while many students returned home to eat homemade meals and bake banana bread three times a week, a handful of students remained living in what’s become a ghost town of a campus. For some students, international travel to their home country was risky and chaotic, forcing them to stay on campus for the remainder of spring. Other students stayed to maintain their Residential Advisor or tutoring jobs to serve as a source of comfort for the remainder of the year. Other students simply decided that their academic motivation and living situations would be unfit back home, opting to stay on campus instead. No matter the reason, these students have navigated the past ten weeks of a quarter turned upsidedown, changing the definition of student life on campus along the way. The first thing they noticed was the space. The campus no longer bustles
with the same energy as it once did. Most of the hot spots on campus— MOM cafe, Geisel, RIMAC gym—are closed indefinitely or open for minimal hours. With a majority of roommates and residents moving out of triples and apartments, the amount of empty space on campus has become noticeably larger, emptier. Library Walk, completely deserted at peak hours of the day, creates the surreal atmosphere of a ghost town that is uncharacteristic of the hub for student organizations. Sabrina Sanchez, a fourth-year Muir Residential Advisor, noted that the few people who frequent campus are more often local residents than on-campus students. Shifted into an unprecedented role. With many of her residents moving back home, Sabrina’s role as an RA has become virtual, which significantly reduced the connection and involvement she once had on campus. Many residents could no longer hang out in the main lounge, or knock on her door at 3 in the morning for life advice, but instead hop onto house meetings on Zoom calls. But as a dedicated RA, Sabrina continues to serve as a resource for the remaining students on campus as well as an online outlet for the rest of her house. Looking out the window on any given day in quarantine, Jadyn Antonio-Valdez, a first year Revelle student, said that he
sees less than ten people a day, with the majority being HDH workers. With his suitemates gone, Jadyn now lived in an entire suite with only three other people. However, Jadyn has taken advantage of this new space in unexpected ways, converting his empty triple into a new single. He started using the desk by the window as his study space, changed another desk into his kitchen area, moved one of the closets out into the hallway for more room space, and took over the bottom bunk as his own. Getting creative with your physical space is a good thing. Social distancing rules have forced students to retreat indoors, where students spend the majority of their days inside their rooms. Ten thousand steps a day to-and-from classes have dwindled down to short trips to the market. Despite the absence of campus’ normally scheduled events and the mental fog that can arise with staying indoors alone, quarantined students have crafted their own methods in keeping busy and creating a viable social and academic routine. Now that Sabrina no longer spends her time walking to and from classes, going to work in the ResLife office and putting together programs for her residents, she spends her newfound time reading for fun, making puzzles and binge-watching TV shows. Quarantine Day in the Life | 13
Ling definitely noticed a shift in the pace of her normal routine. On any other Winter quarter day, she could be found running back and forth to class across campus, studying at Geisel or going to acapella rehearsal, leaving little time to herself to relax and slow down. Now, Ling feels free to unwind and enjoy her own physical space by cooking for herself in her apartment, hopping on Zoom calls for game nights with her friends, and playing guitar to occupy her time and ease her anxiety. Despite the hardships, despite the long stretches of alone time, despite the cancelled future plans, the students on campus agree that they have become more adaptable and resilient, finding time for introspection and character growth that had arisen from quarantine. With both the U.S. and Singapore on lockdown, Ling found a greater appreciation for her family overseas, making a greater effort to video-call her friends and family back home more often. With long-time friends that we sometimes take for granted, video calls have become a comforting way of reestablishing strong connections. Ling has also found extra time in her day to prioritize her physical and mental health a lot more, which had once taken a backseat during the Winter quarter. She said that keeping fit and mentally checking in with herself are quintessential parts of her daily routine and she hopes to keep it that way even after quarantine. She also thinks that the unpredictability of the pandemic has helped her grow more resilient and adaptable. Although it’s been tough seeing her friends and loved ones back home with their families while she quarantines alone halfway around the world, Ling tries to remind herself of how lucky she is—that her family back home is safe, that she’s able to live and
14 | Quarantine Day in the Life
study on campus amid all the worldwide chaos. This gratitude for her life, she says, motivates her to adapt and keep on pressing in spite of the circumstances.
feeling the selfish tendencies to see his friends. Ultimately, quarantine has shaped Jadyn’s sense of responsibility, in both academics and otherwise.
For Sabrina, putting major life events on hold—graduation, 21st birthday–in the midst of pandemic, felt unfair and upsetting. But as time passed, Sabrina learned the important lessons of adaptation and acceptance. But as time passed with an uncertain future ahead of her, Sabrina took hold of the situation by adapting and accepting with her “new normal” experience. Although it’s been difficult to momentarily put your life on hold, she said that she’s become patient and resilient throughout this experience.
In the beginning, we all felt an intangible sense of incontrol. We hoped that it would blow over, that summer would erase the missed opportunities of spring. But as weeks flew by and the future grew more uncertain, we as a collective student body had to learn how to adapt. How to be patient. How to stay resilient. And now, the dust has finally settled into what we call the ‘new normal’, a world where we can find peace within our new routine, our new space, our new ways of living among the quiet chaos.
Early on in quarantine, Jadyn said that his weeks felt like days on days on days, with no weekend in sight. With each day overlapping onto the next, he felt that there were no distinct days of work and days of rest. There were days of boredom, days gone by without speaking to another person. But as the dust began to settle, Jadyn said that he started to shape his week into a separation of weekend and weekday, creating a time to rest and relax and a time to focus on schoolwork. His routine began to shape itself back into one of more motivation and productivity, as well as becoming more explorative and trying new things. In spite of the alone time in his dorm room, Jadyn found a silver lining and used this time to build himself up, physically and mentally. As the weeks went on, he said that he felt a deeper sense of responsibility on his own, focusing on his schoolwork and spending the day productively by working out. As a byproduct of quarantine, Jadyn also said that he felt a personal sense of duty to abide by social isolation rules and not break quarantine, despite occasionally
a letter to the
CLASS OF 2020
By Annika Olives To The Class of 2020:
T
his past spring, we sat in our living rooms, bedrooms, and backyards as we received our official degrees. We watched pre-recorded speeches, turned our tassels, and took pictures in our neighborhoods, but nobody could argue that it was a far cry from how and where our graduations were supposed to take place. Graduating virtually feels like something out of a science-fiction novel, and sometimes it does feel like we’re living in a bit of a dystopian future; when the pandemic first hit back in March, we were all thrown into an unrecognizable reality, and “the new normal” seems like everyone’s new favorite phrase. I know our disappointment with our final quarter or semester can feel selfish or small compared to what’s going on in the world right now, but our feelings are valid. We didn’t get a chance to properly say goodbye to our universities, don’t know the next time we’ll see our friends, had our last in-person classes without realizing. As UCSD students, we skipped out on Sun God, cultural graduation ceremonies, and spring quarter student
16 | A Letter to the Class of 2020
organization events. Many of us moved home and graduated college in the same cities that we graduated high school in. Multiple outlets have reported that the pandemic could have lifelong consequences and repercussions for our generation, and, for those of us who are not continuing on to masters or doctorate degrees, this could very well be the end to our 17-year educational career. We will forever be the class known for having an incomplete ending. To the first-generation students. To the immigrants and children of immigrants. To those who worked countless hours to put themselves through school. To those that faced insurmountable challenges in their lives and over the past four years to get to this place. I especially see you. Graduation is one of the last clean benchmarks of life, but instead of celebrating, we are stuck in a limbo, uncertain about our futures. Walking across that stage, as meaningless as it may seem to others, means a lot to my immigrant parents and to my family back in the Philippines. To me, a graduation ceremony is the event that represents
the years of taking in knowledge, nights of crying over assignments and exams, moments of success. It represents our time spent becoming better scholars, citizens, and humans. And we won’t get the full “graduation” experience, at least not this year. But that doesn’t mean that we didn’t do the damn thing. Because we did. This class of graduates is incredible. We are students, yes, but we are also parents, workers, artists, innovators, leaders, changemakers, and so much more. At the risk of sounding like someone’s overly-supportive aunt, I will say that you should be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished. We are graduating in the midst of a pandemic and the midst of a rising political climate, and if that doesn’t scream resilience, then I don’t know what does. I hope we’re remembered for that instead: about how we faced challenges head on and persevered, about how we showed strength not despite the situation, but in spite of it. We are entering a world that is scarier and more unpredictable than what past classes
went into, but we are the individuals that are best equipped to handle anything that comes our way. We are uniquely positioned to be at the forefront of one of the most important events in our lifetimes, and what we do now will impact our country and the world for years to come. And, in the future, when our kids, nieces, nephews, cousins, and the rest of the world bring up the class of 2020, we can proudly say that that was us.
With hope and congratulations, A Fellow 2020 Graduate
asa Bal a y v Sra piah her nie Ap p a r ha tog Pho el Step d Mo
Photographer Sravya Balasa Model Liana Chau
Yuri Kochiyama
So you’re an
Asian-American
politically activated by COVID-19...
By Faustina Ngo
L
et me ask you this question: How much do you know about your own history? By that, I mean Asian American history.
Have you ever heard of Vincent Chin? Have you ever heard of Larry Itliong, Yuri Kochiyama, or Grace Lee Boggs? Does Third World Liberation, Afro-Asian Bandung Conference, or the Ethnic Studies movement ring a bell? I ask these questions not to belittle those who haven’t heard, but to showcase the fact that I am angry. I am angry because the beautiful, complex layers of Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) culture, traditions and histories have been erased, twisted, and whitewashed for the benefit of our oppressors. I am angry, because so many of our people have been mistaught and turned into political and capitalist pawns against our Black and Brown sisters and brothers. My anger is justified, and I am unapologetic in my anger because it is reasonable and necessary. I write this piece not only to express my feelings, but in hopes that this expression of my anger and sadness will help to fuel and ignite the movement. Hang on tight, I have many more questions to introduce.
Why don’t we know enough about our own history, and who benefits from this?
Allow me to introduce a quote from activist Assata Shakur: “No one is going to give you the education you need to overthrow them. Nobody is going to teach you your true history, teach you your true heroes, if they know that that knowledge will help set you free.”Our history, culture, and social movements have been actively hidden from us, and it has been preventing us from truly understanding our role and duty to society.
What are the damages done when we do not know our role and positionality in the world? Asian Americans were never supposed to have power in America in the first place. White America originally defined us as the “yellow peril,” seen as something foreign and innately dangerous. They exploited us as free or dirt-cheap labor through the coolie system, to build their mines and railroads, and to push forward their “manifest destiny” in conquering and expanding the American empire towards the West. But as times changed, white strategists realized that Asian Americans could be utilized as a pawn to further divide minority groups and advance the idea of a post-racial society, through the “model minority” stereotype around the 1960s that allowed Asian-Americans to gain some social capital through meritocracy. This, in turn, granted us some social power. However, to access this power, one had to follow preexisting rules and play the game right.
Asian Americans could only gain that sort of power if they were submissive to the system, “worked hard,” and focused efforts on academics and social gain, rather than in politics and social issues. In other words, white America only allows some Asians to sit next to them at the dinner table if we keep our heads down and stay quiet. Anything more, and we are once again a mere threat to overturning their long-standing systems of oppression against all people of color and the proletariat. This power gain is not permanent, but more so conditional, and retractable at any moment. If an Asian-American with newly gained social power accidentally steps out of line, or makes a mistake, their power and privileges could be taken away at any time. This illustrates that the power we have now was not originally ours—it was granted conditionally, strategically, and temporarily to us by white America.
See how quickly the tides turned on us when the coronavirus came, and Trump called it the “Chinese” virus? Furthering the complications, power within the API community is granted differently since class and colorism divides us and not every Asian American has the same lived experience. Conditional power from the model minority myth is complex as well, because not every AAPI person will
So You’re An Asian-American Politically Activated By COVID-19... | 23
be seen as a “good, nerdy Asian,” depending on many factors such as how they are racialized and where they are located. Asian Americans are very polarized on certain issues, but are the fastest growing voting block with no set route. Finally, let’s localize this. How can the positives and negatives of Asian American racialization be applied onto UCSD? We are simultaneously privileged and oppressed by the model minority myth, and this shows even in the racial dynamics on our campus. Asian Americans are the majority on most UC campuses, including UC San Diego. Although international Asian students make up a huge chunk of that and are not the same as Asian Americans, they still add on to the plethora of Asian faces represented on campus. Step into the shoes of Black, Indigenous, and Latinx students on campus for a minute. Imagine being in a place where barely anyone looks like you—you wouldn’t feel very safe, included, or comfortable, would you? Add onto this the fact that a noose was found in Geisel Library only about 10 years ago, and it’s pretty obvious that racism and anti-blackness are still rampant on our campus, despite administration’s multiple press-release statements surrounding the topic of anti-racism. So, I think it’s safe to say that Asian Americans do have certain privileges in society and on our very own campus.
But how are some of us simultaneously oppressed by our racializations, and how does this show up in university politics? Let’s trace things back to the 2010 Compton Cookout (Black Winter) incident, which involved one of our fraternities, Pi Kappa Alpha (Pike), organizing and “celebrating” Black History Month with a blackface party. We should really be embarrassed. Is this what we want our alma mater to
be known for? This incident and student activism responses are what created the DEI (Diversity, Equity, Inclusion) requirement, the Black Resource Center and the Raza Resource Centro. It is important to note that these were only a few surface-level student demands addressed by the university from a list of many more. Although the student activism movements in the aftermath of Black Winter were largely spearheaded by Black and Latinx students, AAPI students also showed up and showed out. We were also promised a resource center by UCSD administration, yet construction and planning have been stalled and halted for basically an entire decade. I argue that this is a deliberate attempt from university administration to further the rhetoric of the model minority, to fabricate a false blanket narrative of success onto ALL of the AAPI students on campus. This not only is a disservice for AAPI students who would’ve largely benefitted from a resource center; it continues to sprinkle salt on the wounds of already tense relations between AAPI folks and other people of color.
Why was it only this year, 2020, that we’ve only achieved the establishment of a Critical Asian American and Pacific Islander Studies minor? Only a minor! The university has cherry picked narratives of AAPI success to apply to the entirety of the AAPI student population, excluding us from a resource center—something that could’ve been a safe and brave space for AAPI experience and healing. What about our first-generation, undocumented, low-income AAPI students? They exist, and their plight is often overlooked because of mainstream narratives of AAPI success. The university has denied us much-needed political education about the struggles of our own peoples,
24 | So You’re An Asian-American Politically Activated By COVID-19...
and continues to reproduce dangerous narratives about the model minority by excluding AAPI students from productive actions regarding educational access, retention, and community engagement. This is why I implore you to learn more about your own history, especially in conjunction with Indigenous, Black, and Latinx social movements. I want us as a people to recognize and utilize our voices and power both inside and outside the university, to support the plight of our own AAPI communities and unite in shared struggles with our Black and Brown brethren. Bringing us back to the topic of AAPI privileges, the sole fact that power in the AAPI community is new allows for it to have potential, in the direction it aims and in the movements it can spur. As Asian Americans, we must utilize our limited time with this power so that it can truly be our own and not a conditional given. To make that possible, we must reclaim our voices and spaces. We must deviate from the power loaned through the “model minority,” and develop unwavering voices of our own that do not rely on assimilation into whiteness or stepping on the backs of Black folks and other people of color. We cannot be spectators and continue the apathy any longer. Especially in light of the Black Lives Matter movement that highlighted the anti-blackness and colorism in our own communities, we have a duty to combat racial injustices because we benefit from them. I understand that our families, cultures, and traditions all expect us to shut up, be obedient, and just do our work. But this is a completely different time and country than where most of our parents or grandparents were raised, and many people around us (UC workers, lowincome peers, etc) live this reality every single day. We have to challenge the old ideas ingrained in us and adjust our approach, because what’s happening right now in this country along with the pervasive anti-blackness, colorism, and sociopolitical apathy in Asian America, is not cutting it.
We have had crucial coalition points and solidarity-building events in the past, with the Afro-Asian Bandung Conference and partnerships between Larry Itliong and Caesar Chavez in the United Farmworkers’ Movement. We must build solidarity with other (racial) minorities and achieve equity with Indigenous, Black, and Latinx groups. The main goal should be building mutual understanding, rather than comparing each other with oppression olympics. If we expect solidarity from other groups regarding AAPI issues, then it is our responsibility to respect and fight for issues involving other people of color as well. True liberation for us is inextricably tied to liberation for every other group that is oppressed as well. This goes beyond race and racial justice, and applies to other social issues like immigration, diversability, and everything in-between. That is the beauty of intersectionality. In the end, any of us could have been posed as the “model minorities” or “bad minorities.” It is not our game and was not built for us to start with, but we can make it ours by understanding its structures and building unity against oppressive forces. We must break apart damaging systems and institutions in order to establish community programs that are truly equitable, liberating, and rooted in selfdetermination.
Grace Lee Boggs
issuu.com/trenducsd | @trenducsd