WE HAVE PROGRESSED — BUT NOT NEARLY ENOUGH

For over 30 years, I have dedicated my life to serving the Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) communities. Though we have made tremendous progress, this past year of anti-asian hate, including the heart-wrenching massacre in the Atlanta area, is a reminder for advocates like me that we still have a long way to go.

As I reflect on this, I realize that my early racial experiences led me to working in social justice. While not always overt, these moments carried over decades. As a quiet and shy 7-year-old, I became acutely aware that I could be thought of as “less than” because of the shape of my eyes or the color of my skin or as a perceived foreigner. The perpetrator was my elementary school teacher at the U.S. Naval Air Station Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, where my father was stationed in the late 1960s.

I was the only non-white student in my class. At first, it was subtle, with the teacher pretending not to see me when I raised my hand even though I sat in the front row. As the school year progressed, she became more emboldened to ignore my existence to the point it could have harmed me. One day, I woke up on the floor after fainting due to an illness. My classmates screamed for her to help me, but she just stared, told me not to be clumsy and to get up.

This, despite having witnessed her rush to help a classmate who had fallen and scraped an elbow or knee. How I wished she showed me the same kindness. Her disdain for me was very apparent when I showed her that someone cut my purse’s strap. She folded her arms and blurted, “Do you think, maybe, someone hates you?” The voice in my head screamed, “YES! YOU!” Instead, I silently cried at my desk.

Fortunately, my father’s transfer orders came in and we soon moved to Hawaii, where I was more accepted. Fast forward to college in San Diego, where a male student verbally assaulted me, simply for not smiling at him. He later apologized and offered me a “business opportunity.” He said I could make a lot of money at a party he was throwing because I looked exotic, and men liked that. In other words, he wanted