Asian Representation Matters

 

In my professional life, I have often been the sole Asian American in the room. It is an identity and burden I do not shy from. But nor would I say it is my primary objective in the moment to represent this particular perspective. Nor will it likely be, going forward. But, I do want to be more mindful of this aspect of my public life, and do my best to lend my voice to help others.

Case in point was my time on the school board here in Philadelphia. My entire time I served, I was the only Asian American on the board. (For a while, I was the only male!) Yet, while I did try to pay particular attention to the challenges and concerns of my fellow Asian Americans, that was never elevated above my focus on making sure all students and families were getting a fair shake. And, given the ways we have historically marginalized the Black and Hispanic communities in our system, oftentimes that warranted my attention and that of my fellow board members, and that was appropriate.

But Asian representation matters. I am truly humbled when advocates in the local Asian American community thank me to this day for helping make sure Lunar New Year became a district-wide holiday so that families could celebrate together. It is no exaggeration to say that my role in making this happen is vastly dwarfed by the advocacy of so many others in this city. 

I know that when people are generous in their compliments, you should just graciously accept them rather than deflecting. But in this case, I deflected a lot. I did not feel I had earned the kind words. 

And I still don't. But, however tiny a difference I might have made in advocating for this calendar move, which has ended up being so cherished as a result, I take pride in having made that difference. It happened while I served on the board, and was something I played a small part in making happen, and I'm glad that I was able to do that. So while the exceedingly higher proportion of credit is due to many others who worked far harder and longer than I did, my representation played a part and I humbly accept that and take pride in it.

And, it is a reminder that when given other chances to use my voice to help others I ought to do it. Sometimes it will be for people who are different from me. And sometimes it will be for my fellow Asian Americans. Because if I am given a chance to advocate, to be a voice, to represent representation, then I owe it to others to step into that opportunity.

#ESIEats

 

ICYMI I'm reposting an excerpt from my company's blog post, in which I discuss our new initiative to give employees an allowance to eat out.

 

Earlier this year, I made the call to bring us back into the office. Part of that is because I believe that as a firm we work better together in person, both in terms of doing the work and in building our culture. But maybe a bigger reason, which I kept coming back to as we deliberated the matter, is that as a firm that purports to be about cities and that is working towards a brighter future for our cities, it feels good for us to be putting that into action by contributing our own foot traffic to the downtown scene and our own discretionary spending to local businesses.

In this regard, coming back to the office and giving staff a monthly allowance to dine out is the natural consequence of the notion that our existence as a firm is not as an island, but in relationship with a physical location, an ecosystem of businesses and residents and commuters and tourists. We benefit from the setting in which we’re located, and the shopping options and public amenities and street life that we can access here. And, in turn we benefit the setting by being physically present, for it’s our eyes and ears and dollars that help make the city safe and vibrant.

Now, practically, who doesn’t love getting some money to eat out? So I guess you could call this an employee perk. But it’s also an invitation to come together around a set of shared values that we are trying to foster in the firm and among our staff, which is that who we patronize and where we spend our money is a reflection of what’s important to us. It’s why I’ve encouraged people and asked our marketing team to amplify the support of local businesses and entrepreneurs of color and places that prioritize the environment.

I acknowledge we’re a small company, so the magnitude of our impact is relatively minimal. But it’s meaningful for us. And maybe it sparks similar actions by other organizations, big and small. We believe in the future of cities, and we’re committed to the future of Philadelphia. This is one way we’re putting those values into motion.

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Here's an excerpt from a book I recently read, "The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a F*ck: How to Stop Spending Time You Don't Have with People You Don't Like Doing Things You Don't Want to Do," by Sarah Knight.

And that’s the key: giving your f*cks to the things that make you happy—like reading or cooking or playing with your mini-me—and not giving a f*ck about the rest. One mother responded from the perspective of teaching her own kids what to give a f*ck about: “As someone who grew up in a household full of guilt, I think it’s important for our kids to know that they can make decisions about what to care about, and that they don’t need to pay attention to the approval or condescension of other people in deciding how to live their lives.” 

Right on! 

And perhaps the most practical comment came from a mom who said that having a child can actually serve you well in prioritizing f*cks given to other areas of life, such as the workplace. That the well-being of this brand-new human can sometimes be the catalyst to finally stop giving a f*ck about staying after hours, taking on added responsibilities, and pinch-hitting for the real or metaphorical company softball team. It can lead you to draw clear boundaries with supervisors and employees alike and to be honest and firm about what you’re capable of handling in any given day.

We'll Have Made It When Everyone Cares Enough to Learn How to Say a Little Girl's Name

 

This P&G ad, for Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, moved me to tears. I'll admit it's not hard for sappy commercials to make me cry. But this one hit me harder than I thought it would. I was trying to figure out why when it occurred to me that what is significant about the message is that the star of the scene is not some famous or important figure but rather an ordinary little girl.

Asian Americans are finding their voices in recent years. Whether it is excelling at the highest echelons of pop culture (BTS, Shohei Ohtani, Parasite) or speaking up against COVID-inspired anti-Asian hate, Asians are on the map in ways that wasn't true just a few years back. Which is wonderful, that we are shedding our stereotypically quiet demeanors and demanding to be heard.

But much of this is coming from "important people": celebs, wildly talented athletes and entertainers, and the politically and commercially well-connected. You'd expect them to have a vast orbit of popularity and sway. It's still meaningful that they are helping put Asian Americans on the map. But we need more than this.

Even in my own humble life story, whatever boldness I have to live and speak the way I do and whatever influence I am able to exert comes largely from a place of privilege, in that it builds from a comfortable upper-middle class upbringing and an Ivy League pedigree. I take some pride that in the things I've accomplished and the voice I'm able to give, I represent Asian Americans and in doing so I hopefully move the needle. But another part of me expects this, and sees very little real change created by someone like me having whatever measure of success or notoriety.

But the P&G ad underscores for me that we'll have made it as Asian Americans in this country when everyone cares enough to learn how to say a little girl's name. This little girl does not currently sell out arenas or inspire us with soaring social rhetoric. Being nice to her does not curry favor with the politically powerful or help us close a big business deal. 

And yet it is important for her parents and for her that her name is her name, that it means something, and that it deserves to be properly pronounced. Watching people genuinely desire to say her name right is a glimpse into a future I long for. In this future, Asian Americans are deemed worthy enough to be known and celebrated, inclusive of their Asian heritage, starting with the very name that they are called and upon which rests their very identity, and separate of any entertainment value or physical feat or societal importance that we can derive from them. 

What a day that will be. This May we celebrate Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. May we, in our celebration, move ourselves to a place where every little Asian girl's name is worth learning how to pronounce right. It may seem trivial but it is everything to me.

New York, New York

 

I live and raise kids in a big city. And much of my work in my job involves big cities. So what’s a guy to do to unwind from all that? Why, go to the biggest city of them all, at least here in the US, which is what I did twice in the past several weeks.

I suppose it’s ironic that what counts for fun and relaxation is to do more of what fills my crazy life. And equally ironic that what I like about tottering around in a big city is things like green space and water views. 

But maybe that’s not so strange: the combination of nature and urban can be pretty cool. Clearly this is my MO: I love cities, filled as they are with people and with things to do, but I can never be too far away from trees and flowers and being able to look out onto water.

I recently did two days off – one at the end of March and one at the end of April – where I skipped work and was free from kid responsibilities too. I chose to take both days in New York City.

Here’s my loose itinerary from my first trip:

1. Amtrak to New York Penn Station
2. Citi Bike to Roosevelt Tramway, tram onto Island, bike the roughly 4.5-mile loop around, tram back to Manhattan
3. Bike up John Finley Walk and over bridge into Randalls and Wards Islands, putter around there and then back into Harlem
4. Lunch at an amazing Jamaican place, then bike through Central Park and cut over to Hudson River Greenway
5. Hit Edge NYC, Museum of Sex, and Museum of Math, then race back to train station

And here’s my loose itinerary from my second trip:

1. Amtrak to New York Penn Station
2. Subway to Coney Island, walk the boardwalk, window shop the Russian stores on Brighton Beach Ave, breakfast at Clavel, subway to just north of Prospect Park
3. Pick up a Citi Bike near the northern entrance of Prospect Park and bike the roughly 3.5-mile loop through the park, detouring near the southern tip to visit my friend’s Caribbean marketplace on the corner of Flatbush and Caton
4. Bike to DeKalb Market to grab a bite, then bike across Manhattan Bridge into Manhattan, and down East River Greenway to South Street Seaport
5. Ferry to Governor’s Island, bike the roughly 2-mile loop around the island, ferry back to Manhattan
6. Up East River Greenway to Chinatown and then Russ & Daughters and then NYU
7. Bike, walk, and eat my way back to the train station

Baltimore and Washington are also cities I’ve enjoyed a free day in, where I can similarly get to and get around without a car and access green and blue in the process. All three I can easily get to and back in a day, without missing Asher’s bedtime or waking up insanely early. Another perk of being in Philly. For all the craziness in my life, these in-the-city me-days are an essential form of self-care, and I can’t wait to plan and execute the next one.

Work/Life Imbalanced

 

I am haunted by this quote, which I first read in a book but I understand has made the rounds in numerous settings, usually in the context of how hard it is for women in particular to “have it all”:

“If you want to succeed in your career, you have to sacrifice your personal life. If you want to succeed in your personal life, you have to sacrifice your career. If you want to succeed at both, you have to sacrifice yourself.” 

I do agree this is particularly true for women. Partly because of the biology of the mismatch between child-bearing and partly due to societal gender norms, it is generally harder for women than for men to juggle work, family, and self-care. 

All parents, and moms in particular, are faced with the challenge of bearing the time and effort for everything in their lives, relative to the finite amounts of time and effort available to do it all. Work/life balance can mean lots of things, but oftentimes we think of it in the context of working parents, which is what I’ll take as my point of reference for this post. You could easily throw in “taking care of an elderly parent” here, since it is also related to being responsible for another human life (and, obviously, some people, so-called “sandwich generation” folk, have to worry about both kids and parents relying on them). 

The quote haunts me because it is not hypothetical but real, and really inconvenient and painful. Like many modern parents, I’m trying my darndest not to sacrifice at work, or at home, or with myself, but in reality I feel like I’m constantly flailing around badly on all three fronts. Forgive me over-explaining below, it’s just what helps me make sense of the chaos that is life nowadays, is to sort the world into different buckets:

1. Folks who have a life partner who is able to handle a disproportionate load, say with kids, so that you have time to dive into work and can have free time too.

2. Folks who have sufficient material or relational resources to outsource huge chunks of parental or domestic responsibilities, trading money for time.

3. Folks whose job is just a means to make money, and whose heart lies at home and/or with leisure pursuits. 

4. Related to above, folks who make job choices and set boundaries so that work is a lighter load relative to other things in their lives.

5. Folks whose heart lies with work, at the expense of being around at home or having hobbies.

6. Related to above, folks whose work is their hobby, so there’s no need for outside pursuits because their vocation is their life passion.)

7. Folks who are independently wealthy, so work isn’t in the equation at all or is at a level that affords plenty of time for family and fun.

8. Folks who opt out of family responsibilities (e.g. choose not to have kids), so are able to dive deep into work and then reconcile non-work time with what’s fun and life-giving for them.

9. Folks who bend their family time to match up with their work responsibilities or leisure pursuits (e.g. every family vacation is at a golf course and the kids play too).

10. Folks who bust it at home and work, and subsequently have no time or energy left for a life outside of that. 

I am that last category. I choose into this, and am well suited to defer leisure until later. But you can see why my thoughts easily go to retirement, is that I long for a day when I don’t have to defer. And this  works for me, because I’m able to give it my all at work and home, knowing that I enjoy but also that there is something else enjoyable to look forward to down the road. What about you? What’s your strategy for juggling it all?

 

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Here are a couple of excerpts from a book I recently read, "The End of Gender: Debunking the Myths about Sex and Identity in Our Society," by Debra Soh.

Therein lies the double standard: If a child is gender-nonconforming, this is interpreted as biological and something that shouldn’t be dissuaded or tampered with. But if a child is gender-conforming, this is seen as the result of social influence and something that parents should actively try to change. I often see boys who are gender-atypical, allowed by their parents to express themselves in a hyperfeminine and in some cases, inappropriately sexualized way, pouting with duck lips in photos and posing seductively. In the case of child drag queens, for example, little boys—some as young as age eight—perfect their makeup and hair and put on skimpy outfits to gyrate to, in many cases, explicitly sexual songs onstage. As someone who spent more nights than I can count in drag clubs with my friends when I was younger, I fully support young kids, especially feminine boys, expressing themselves. But I find the hypocrisy mind-numbing—would the adults cheering on drag kids allow their daughters to pose in the same way?

“If you want to succeed in your career, you have to sacrifice your personal life,” she began. “If you want to succeed in your personal life, you have to sacrifice your career.” Then, with a look of pallor, she added, “If you want to succeed at both, you have to sacrifice yourself.” 

It was dire but brutally honest. Women, in most cases, face greater responsibilities with regard to childrearing in addition to balancing a busy career. Several students came out of that lecture with the realization that they weren’t willing to sacrifice themselves if they wanted children, so something else would have to give. 

If we want the world to be more accommodating to women (and we should), we need to stop pretending that the sexes are identical. Telling ourselves that sex differences are inherently meaningless hinders progress that would actually help women.

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Here are a couple of excerpts from a book I recently read, "Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thinking Black," by bell hooks.

Speaking becomes both a way to engage in active self-transformation and a rite of passage where one moves from being object to being subject. Only as subjects can we speak. As objects, we remain voiceless—our beings defined and interpreted by others.

To me naming is about empowerment. It is also a source of tremendous pleasure. I name everything—typewriters, cars, most things I use— that gives something to me. It is a way to acknowledge the life force in every object. Often the names I give to things and people are related to my past. They are a way to preserve and honor aspects of that past. Speaking of ancestor acknowledgement within African traditions has been a way to talk about how we learn from folks we may never have known but who live again in us. In Western traditions, this same process is talked about as the collective unconscious, the means by which we inherit the wisdom and ways of our ancestors. Talking with an elderly black man about names, he reminded me that in our southern black folk tradition we have the belief that a person never dies as long as their name is remembered, called. When the name bell hooks is called, the spirit of my great-grandmother rises.