There's been a lot of chatter on Asian American Twitter, and one thing I just want to add the conversation is that I'm noticing a broad dismissal of folks who primarily engage in scholarship as their form of contribution.
I want to contest that point of view.
I'm on record in multiple outlets being strongly in favor of Asian American ethnic studies. One major reason is because I believe that sustainable social change requires rethinking our ideas, and reimagining the future. Revolution is about theory as well as practice.
The challenge to think more broadly about who we are and what our positionality is - and to constantly reshape those ideas based on new information - informs my every day. I believe that building theory about sustainable change better directs our action.
To paraphrase Grace Lee Boggs, revolution is not just picketing and other forms of protest action; although those things are clearly also essential. Revolution also comes from evolution of thought in addition to practice.
Yuri, on the other hand, also said (paraphrased) that unless we know ourselves an our history, as well as other people and their history, there cannot be positive interaction with real understanding.
I've always read that as a quote about interracial solidarity, but it is also a quote about emphasizing the role of knowledge and theory in building better social movements.
All of this is to say that the scholar-activists in our midst - the ones whose contributions are primarily through building theory and research about our communities and movements - play an important role. They are helping us build our roadmaps for the future we seek to create.
Of course, there's a lot of criticism around how well our ethnic studies fields can challenge existing institutions when they are so deeply ingrained within the neoliberal academic establishment. That's an absolutely fair point.
But to me, that's a call for Asian American studies and other scholars to maintain self-awareness about the environment in which they produce scholarship, and to consider how those establishments influence the work, not a good reason to reject the role of scholarship outright.
Considered, thoughtful, and accessible scholarship focused on the community - our histories and contemporary stories - has, in my opinion, an important role in the larger goal of creating social change for the better; and I wish we weren't so quick to discount it.
We cannot know where to go if we do not know where we've been.
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Read Scott’s thread for good analysis but what jumps out at me is the finding that roughly 3/4 of AAPI identify with a pan-ethnic racial identity, and that 20% of those surveyed feel more kinship with the term in the COVID era.
That’s a huge shift, and we see increases across the board (of course by varying amounts) across distinct ethnic backgrounds, citizenship status, and political affiliation.
One of the most vital and reinvigorating memories I’ve created in California is when @seanmiura welcomed me to the state by taking an afternoon to give me a “community organizer’s” tour of Little Tokyo, showing me all the spots where affordable housing is and where it used to be.
He took time to explain to me the contemporary fight in Little Tokyo to prevent developers’ encroachment into this historic space, most recently due to metro line development plans.
A lot of good stuff to digest here, even if I reject one of the basic premises of this writing (and the book it reviews) that the Asian American identity is inherently empty or flawed, stitched out of nothingness. vulture.com/2021/10/jay-ca…
One of my concerns with the way the Asian American identity is always argued to be an empty anachronism is that so much work has already been done by us as a community to help define and explore it.
What emerges from that work is in my mind a distinct and powerful exploration of Asian America as knitted together as much by the ways we are different as the ways in which we are similar.
What if most of us actually grew up not hating being AsAm.
What if that’s not actually a central unifying tenet of the AsAm experience.
What if the “self-hating AsAm” narrative is just what sits most comfortably for the non-AsAm mainstream editor and media consumer.
Because, I’m gonna be really honest here, I never grew up hating being Asian. I didn’t despise my looks, my skin, my lunches, or my language. I didn’t pine away for blonde locks or blonde boyfriends.
I was - and still am - comfortably Asian.
And while I get that others may have had some sort of experience of deep racial insecurity growing up, I am so totally bored that this is the only narrative that is elevated about us - that somehow we need pop culture assimilation to learn to love ourselves. Fuck no, I don’t.
Ok, so I want to weigh in here bc sadly this attitude is more common than we’d care to admit in science, and factors into larger forms@of intolerance Asian/Asian American scientists face.
Western scientific tradition presumes English as a common language (its own issue, btw), which means that most non-English-as-a-first-language scientists must learn at least some English proficiency. The assumption that international scientists don’t try to learn English is wrong
Learning another language is hard. Trying to conduct a specialized study like science in another language is REALLY hard. My hats off to all the English-language-limited (ELL) scientists out there, bc that shit is not easy.
Thinking a lot this week about what it’s like to navigate being an Asian American woman who is passionate and outspoken about racism and sexism, and how racialized and gendered stereotypes mean that this is so often misread as just mean or nasty.
It’s like as Asian American women (and other non-men), we are especially pigeon-holed by expectation that we always be nice and kind — even when this is a cartoon, even when it is to our own detriment.
This past week in the class I’m teaching, we talked a bit about ways women in STEM navigate stereotype, which is really a conversation about survival.