The main takeaway I had from CLA this past week was regarding visibility. This week we heard from AAPI leaders in politics and advocacy work including leaders from Monterey Park like Mayor Thomas Wong and City Councilmember Henry Lo, Barney Cheng and Marsha Aizumi from PFLAG San Gabriel Valley, and Ben Tran from Asian Americans Advancing Justice Southern California. Each speaker shared how important AAPI visibility is in various spaces whether it be in political spaces, queer spaces, media, or art and what visibility actually looks like alluding to the importance of community care.
Invisibility has more or less become the norm for the AAPI community throughout history especially when accessing narratives about our community perpetuated by those outside of it. The AAPI community encompasses a wide variety of people from a myriad of different countries, islands, territories, languages, political and cultural systems. Invisibility is inherently embedded within the AAPI identifier, ignoring the diversity and identities of the people haphazardly thrown under the labels of Asian American and Pacific Islander. Yet, even more hidden are our intersectional identities especially when they fall outside of what it means to be “AAPI” in societal imaginations such as narratives of “the model minority” for Asian Americans or even visibility through cultural and travel fantasies for Pasifika communities. These conversations forced me to think about my own experiences navigating invisibility and my need for visibility.
Intern Sydney Pike listening intently to Monterey Park Mayor Thomas Wong’s story
Being of mixed background, invisibility was a common theme throughout my own experiences where I never learned about either of my histories nor feeling like I truly fit the mold of my competing identities. It was a constant struggle to either find spaces I felt seen in or spaces that I could be validated in. There were many instances where I didn’t feel Asian enough, or I didn’t look Hawaiian enough, or even moments where people noticed I wasn’t white enough. All of these instances solidified that I wasn’t enough. Invisibility exists when you fall outside of the bounds of the American imagination. In falling outside of what it means or looks like to belong to any of these categories I felt a loss of recognition, legitimacy, and authenticity to any and all of my communities and identities. In trying to navigate all of these worlds, I have often felt the need to prove to the outside world who I am and what I am supposed to represent.
In mostly feeling invisible, I felt this constant desire to feel visible. I always thought that meant being validated or doing everything in my power to represent and encompass the arbitrary definitions of what it means to be AAPI as designated by others. Yet, who is this validation from and why am I seeking it? Our conversations about visibility made me question these feelings and really look at these questions. The speakers from PFLAG echoed the message of visibility as community support and collective care. While leaders from Monterey Park showed me that visibility does not necessarily mean representation for the sake of representation but a responsibility that emerges from mutual care, resilience, and a drive to craft a new narrative based on our own terms, definitions, and experiences. Rather than seeking permission or outside acceptance from systems, I find it more important to instead find those who reaffirm, support, and accept me.
Intern Sydney Pike speaks at South Asian Network
These conversations led me to realize that visibility is about asking for help, being courageous, and embracing your passions. Visibility requires intentionality in the way we show up to different spaces, radical retellings of our stories, and reimaginings of our futures. I learned, especially from our friends at PFLAG, that our identities are interconnected and make us who we are and in embracing this we are made to find our spaces. In each endeavor I take, I find myself taking steps toward this and establishing my own unique identity and community through kinship.
The views and opinions expressed in this publication are those of the author and do not reflect the views or positions of CAUSE or the CAUSE network.
Written by Sydney Pike, Leadership Academy 2024 Intern.
The CAUSE Leadership Academy (CLA) for students is a nine-week, paid, internship program that prepares college undergraduates to lead and advocate for the Asian Pacific Islander community on their campuses and beyond.