Dear Asian Youth, Her feet drag across the dimly lit hallway of her mother’s apartment building. She has repeated this path once a month for the past three years. The overhead light flickers, her heart races. She pauses in front of the wooden door, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of her face. She clutches her black handbag tight. She takes a deep breath and knocks. The door flings open, threatening words shower her with never-ending despair, “Where is the money? Give me this month’s amount, full. I swear I have never seen anyone as ungrateful as you, if your brother didn’t need this money to buy his house, I would disown you!” “Mother… I, I barely have enough for myself.” “I don’t care! You are my daughter! You are obligated to give me money and help out your brother! Remember, I gave birth to you, everything you have is because of me!” Tears circle the girl’s eyes, her words are trapped in her throat. She watches as her mother rummages aggressively through the black handbag, seizing the brown envelope full of cash. After getting a hold of the money, her mother throws the handbag onto the dusty floor and slams the door shut. The girl is left alone in the hallway, stunned. She shakes with heartache and anger. At that moment, she did not want to be her mother’s daughter… As astonishing as it may sound, this is a reality for many young individuals in China and many other parts of the world as well. However, it originates from one of China’s most well-known and well-practiced doctrines. In Chinese, there is a common saying that goes “百事孝为先”. In English, it roughly translates to “out of all things, filial piety should come first”. Filial piety is probably one of those phrases that not many people are familiar with, though you might understand what it means after reading the definition. Filial piety refers to the virtue of respect toward one’s elders and ancestors. However, this is not a widespread belief in most of the Western world. Truth be told, I think ‘filial piety’ was merely created to be an overly-sophisticated translation. The concept of filial piety originates from Chinese Buddhist/Taoist ethics, and has arguably been one of China’s most important moral tenets for the past 3000 years. Acts of filial piety are considered the moral duties of the young, which includes offering great respect and support toward one’s elders. Generally, children are obligated to adhere to their parents’ wishes, take care of their parents when they are old, and work diligently to provide them with material comforts. The reasoning behind this obligation is the eternal debt that children have towards their parents for giving them life. Western beliefs often center around individualism, announcing that each person is an autonomous body once they have left the womb. In Chinese culture, however, familial relations intertwine and connect every individual to the other. If you examine the Chinese character ‘孝(xiao)’, it actually illustrates the meaning of filial piety. The top portion of the ideogram is a part of the character ‘老(lao)’, which refers to the elderly. The bottom portion of the ideogram is the character ‘子(zi)’, which is a term used for a child (son). The elderly above the young symbolizes the concept of filial piety, where the older generation is supported and carried by the younger ones. Though the concept seems harmless at first glance, filial piety has dark and twisted implications. I invite you to revisit the little anecdote in the beginning of this piece. Many households view filial piety not as a request or suggestion, but rather a demand and an expectation. This demand may slowly morph into a guilt-tripping method of manipulation. Some parents use their children as money-shaking-trees, eating off of every last cent. Other parents who might not have lived a life they wanted will in turn force their unfulfilled dreams onto their offspring. They single-handedly draft up a life plan for their children - what schools to attend, what job to work at, when to get married, how many kids to have, where to buy a house etc. When children start to disagree with their elders or choose to pursue their own lifestyle, parents often express grave disappointment and anger on the grounds that filial piety was not honored. In more serious cases, where parents manifest toxic traits and inflict physical or emotional abuse through heavy gaslighting, it teaches young vulnerable minds to accept various forms of manipulation and abuse and accept them as acts of ‘love’. These toxic actions are rarely questioned due to the rooted ideals of filial piety - where disobeying is strictly forbidden. In these cases, filial piety acts as an imprisoning chain that binds children to their abusers. When it comes to Chinese-Americans or other Asian-Americans, there enlies a moral dilemma with filial piety. In Western culture, personal passion is highlighted as the ultimate pursuit. However, in pursuing one’s dream, they may not be fulfilling the wishes of their parents. Should I chase my dreams or settle down to respect my parents vision for me? Unfortunately, I can’t give you an answer. Each household is different and not all views will align, so it is up to you to decide which path you choose. What I can say is that filial piety is originally a respectable virtue set off to instill gratitude and love. Please, parents, do not let it become a tool for control and manipulation. I strongly encourage all readers to have an open conversation with your parents about this concept of filial piety. Tell them if you feel pressured or anxious, and let them know where you are coming from. Hopefully having such discussions will help facilitate a safer and more supportive familial environment. - Eva Cover Photo Source: South China Morning Post

There has been a recent wave of social media sympathy for activism of all kinds. Everything from the explosion near the main port in Beirut, Lebanon to #endSARS, gets its own neat, aesthetically pleasing Instagram post for people to repost on their stories. In the end, it becomes more about being a part of the “crowd” – performative activism – and it doesn’t hold as much weight as it should. Take the Yemen humanitarian crisis, for example. You may remember the flood of social media awareness that took over in early August. It’s still going on – though many may not realize, because the wave of awareness for it has simply died down. The same three informative posts were on almost every person’s Instagram story, posted without comment in a 3-second gesture of humanity – and that’s as far as the sympathy goes. Now, let me be clear: this isn’t bad. Raising awareness is always helpful (even if the same awareness has been raised in the same way 500 times over in a single person’s feed). At the very least, it lets people know that something is going on. Some – perhaps even many – of those people probably signed petitions, too, and I’m willing to bet a few had the generosity to spare a few dollars in donations. Thoughts and prayers for the poor, suffering third world country in Africa (or was it the Middle East?). Really, how did you get yourselves into such a mess? Anyway, hope it gets better soon! (Before I go on, note that the term “third world” is extremely out-of-date and implies the unsophisticated nature of entire countries – according to, of course, the Western measure of development. The countries labeled “less developed” now were actually thriving for most of history; that is, until widespread European imperialism. Also, Yemen is the southernmost country on the Arabian Peninsula – yes, in the Middle East.) The problem with this newfound social media sympathy is that this is as far as it goes. For many, a repost is purely to ease their guilt, and most of us have happily moved on and gone about our day at least once. There is no real education behind this. Again, in the context of the Yemen crisis, many simply assumed that these “barbaric”, underdeveloped countries had dug themselves into a deep hole. We, out of the goodness of our hearts, were helping them to get out of their own mess. There isn’t any research or informed consciousness behind social media sympathy – if there was, there would be a lot more outrage over the Yemen crisis. If people did a little bit more digging, they would find that the catastrophe in Yemen is a little more related to us than we think. In fact, the violence and resulting humanitarian crisis in Yemen is U.S. sponsored. The Obama Administration gave over a billion dollars ($1,000,000,000) in weaponry, over 40 million pounds of jet fuel, and military intel to the Saudi Arabian government. 100 million dollars worth of weapons were given to Saudi Arabia before Obama’s presidency, as well. Saudi Arabia then used this support to (questionably) intervene in the Yemeni civil war. The famine in Yemen is the result of a naval blockade backed by the U.S.; the lack of clean water, shelter, electricity, etc. is the result of Saudi Arabia bombing the country with American bombs and planes. In April of 2019, President Trump vetoed a bill with bipartisan support that would have ended American military involvement with Saudi Arabia’s war in Yemen. Trump thought it was an “unnecessary, dangerous attempt to weaken my constitutional authorities.” Consequently, the United States is currently supporting a genocide. So. Now that we’re well aware that the Yemeni crisis is not exactly just an issue for other people in another land, what can we do? And for the news stories that come up on our feed – what do we do with those? Keep doing what you’ve been doing. Raise awareness – but remember to remind others that it’s not just “someone else’s problem” that we’re graciously helping. Educate yourself about the issue, because there may be a pervasive systemic issue beneath it all. Even if there isn’t, it’s always nice to learn something! Donate, protest the U.S. government, call your representatives and leaders. We need to learn, in order to improve. - Yunseo Chung Cover photo source: https://www.newindianexpress.com/lifestyle/tech/2020/jan/18/how-social-media-users-fishing-for-sympathy-have-a-bearing-on-mental-health-2090992.html

January 1, 2020 “3. 2. 1… Happy New Year!” Amidst the clinking of sparkling cider glasses, the glow of sparklers, and the trumpeting of foil horns, the world bids farewell to 2019 and welcomes the new decade with open arms. The joy is tangible, electrifying the air and sending goosebumps down your skin. You take a moment to turn your gaze to the night sky: a canvas most beautiful, each star illuminating a myriad of possibilities. With the crackle of firecrackers and the celebratory exclamations of your loved ones in the background, you offer a silent manifestation to the universe. This is your year. You’re sure of it. January 21, 2020 “A man from Washington State is infected with the Wuhan coronavirus.” You stare at the headline on the bottom of the television screen. The newscaster continues speaking, but her words don’t register in your mind. You’ve heard whispers about this mysterious virus, this illness originating from a Chinese seafood and poultry market, this disease that has already infected dozens of people. However, these little bits and pieces are overshadowed by all that’s still uncertain. There is so much that you don’t know, but you grasp onto one word like a lifeline. China. March 13, 2020 “President Trump just declared the coronavirus pandemic a national emergency.” January 1st seems like ages ago. Over the course of the last few months, this pandemic has embedded itself within the back of your mind. More and more people have tested positive. Over a thousand Americans have died. The joy and optimism from the prospect of a new decade have long since dissipated, replaced with a pervasive fear that’s embedded itself within the collective mind. You can’t find hand sanitizer anywhere. Your house is packed with toilet paper rolls. The uncertainty is unbearable. Everyone is on edge. At school, you and your friends huddle together in a corner. “Do you think we’re coming back next year?” During lunch, you catch the eye of the foreign exchange student, a boy your age from Kunming, China. He had arrived in town at the beginning of the school year, a little shy but excited to learn in the land of freedom and opportunity—to live out the coveted American Dream. Normally, he’s always surrounded by a group of friends. People love to hear him recount stories about his sisters back home and try his favorite foods. But lately, he’s been receiving sideways glances as he walks down the hallways. No one wants to be his lab partner for Chemistry class. And for the first time ever, he’s eating alone. There’s no one sitting next to him to listen to tales of his family or taste his meals from home. You look away, ignoring the churning of your stomach. March 30, 2020 “Stay at home.” You’re frustrated. A world before phrases such as quarantine and social distancing were everyday aspects of vocabulary seems like a lifetime ago. Ever since you went into lockdown, the days have been a blur, clouded by a sense of boredom that grows with time. You don’t want to wear a mask. You don’t want to stay six feet apart from other people. You had to cancel your trip to Italy, a vacation you had been looking forward to for months. The Chinese virus ruined my spring break. You think back to the foreign exchange student, to his stupid home country and his broken English and his weird-smelling food. This is his fault. This is the fault of his people. Initially a seed of resentment, the animosity had slowly taken root, watered by months of holding a misplaced grudge. The anger now extends through every fiber of your being, an all-consuming wildfire that disseminates through your veins. May 4, 2020 “You brought the virus here, you dirty ch*nks!” You’re at the grocery store, stocking up on much-needed necessities when you hear it. The voice belongs to an older man, his face red from exertion and misplaced passion. The recipients of his verbal tirade are a mother and her teenage daughter, the same in their almond-shaped eyes and hair dark as the night sky. You’re relatively far away, but even from a distance, you can see the fear painted onto their faces. You stay quiet. After all, it’s what they deserve. ------- Over the last year, the coronavirus pandemic has ravaged the world, laying its deathly hand upon countless lives. No person has been left unaffected. However, the rise of COVID-19 has also led to the targeting of a particular demographic: the Asian population. Scrolling through the news, I see new variations of the same headline every day: “Asian [man/woman/family] subjected to [physical and/or verbal abuse.]” With the advent of the coronavirus, pre-existing racial prejudices held against Asian Americans have been dreadfully exacerbated, with a more than 800 percent increase in racist incidents—and not just restricted to those of Chinese descent. Over the months, there has been a definite uptick in racially-motivated attacks against the Asian demographic as a whole: notably against Chinese individuals, but also against those from other parts of Asia, such as Japan, Korea, and the Philippines. Moreover, racism against Asians is a global issue; 85 percent of Asian Australians have suffered racial discrimination amid COVID-19. This bigotry must end. However, for this to happen, we must analyze the factors that have contributed to racism against Asians, from pre-existing conditions to those that have only recently come to fruition. The first of such factors is maladaptive coping to the ramifications of the coronavirus. Most stressors can potentially harm a person’s health or well-being, and COVID-19 happens to tick both boxes. This global pandemic is beyond the control of any singular person, and the fear of death is a constant weight on the lives of many. Thus, many resort to maladaptive efforts to endure, where coping is “emotion-focused,” rather than “problem-focused.” When there is so much that is unknown, we tend to hold onto the things that we can understand. We look for a scapegoat, a martyr, a person (or a population) to blame. It doesn’t matter that Asia has a population of over 4.5 billion people or that it's illogical to blame an entire continent for a pandemic that originated from a single animal sold at a market. What matters is that someone pays the price. Secondly, maladaptive coping mechanisms induced by COVID-19 have provoked an increase in biased media use towards Asians. According to Ohio State, individuals who reported more viewing of coronavirus-related information from Fox News were more likely to blame Asian Americans as a risk for disease than people who watch the news from CNN or MSNBC. Moreover, the normalization of racist views towards Asians doesn’t help the stigma we face. This is most evident when President Trump repeatedly referred to the coronavirus as the “Chinese virus.” In the following weeks, Twitter analytics reported that there was a nearly ten-fold increase in usage of this term on the national level. This was coupled with a spike in both verbal and physical assaults on those of Asian descent within the United States. These are prime examples of what is known as information laundering, when communication of hatred acquires legitimacy and enters mainstream culture. It is the media’s responsibility to provide the public with nonpartisan information, yet this is not always the case. However, stigmatization towards Asians is not merely about xenophobic terms such as “Kung Flu.” It’s reflective of a larger and more pervasive issue, one that has woven itself into the very fabric of society: the presence of racial prejudice. Of the three factors, stereotypical beliefs about Asians and feelings of radicalized envy were the strongest indicators of animosity. In what is known as civic ostracism, Asian cultures—oftentimes so unapologetically antithetical to Western ideals—are perceived as more alien and foreign than those of other groups. People often fear what they do not know. Yet, Asians undergo relative valorization when compared to other minorities. Racial envy is more than the feeling that a person/group of people is undeserving of some perceived advantage. It’s also the desire to either strip this person/group of this advantage and procure it for oneself. In American society, Asians are seen as the “model minority”—the prejudice we face as a race differs from the prejudice enacted upon other minority groups. We’re seen as less inferior: not up to par with white people, but superior to those from the Black or Latino communities. However, this stereotype is detrimental to Asians, for reasons beyond the fact that it normalizes the discrimination against us. Due to the societal stereotype of Asian competence, we’re perceived to take up space once reserved for our white counterparts: from taking job opportunities, to clogging up elite colleges with our presence, to even sweeping athletic competitions on the global level. In fact, there is a common saying: “No matter how good you are, there’s always an Asian who’s better than you.” With this perception of relative valorism, Asians are often perceived as a threat to social and economic order, hierarchy, and resource distribution. These feelings of resentment build up over time, festering like an ugly emotional sore. The coronavirus didn’t create prejudice against Asians. It simply heightened feelings already simmering beneath the surface. During a time where we need to be united, our collective stigmatization divides us. It detracts from the problems at large, the issues that desperately need to be resolved. Most of all, it’s harming the Asians in our communities. Asian Americans typically have the lowest unemployment rate, but during these times, it has skyrocketed to more than 450 percent. Hundreds upon hundreds of Asian, family-owned businesses have been forced to shut down due to a drastic decrease in customers. Thousands of Asians all over the world have been subjected to horrific racial violence. Suffering is not an excuse to cause others pain. Anger is not a justification for hate. Fear of what is unknown does not enable you to be racist. We have all suffered this year, whether it be a lost job, a decline in mental and/or physical health, or the death of a loved one. We have all wished for an end to this global pandemic that has stolen hundreds of thousands of lives. However, racism is not—and will never be—an option. It is our responsibility as people, as a society, and as a world to build each other up, rather than tear each other down. Let’s demystify prejudice and debunk racism. As we steadily approach the other end of 2020, let’s remember that the New Year isn’t a blank slate. Unless we enact change, the prejudice from all the years prior will continue to bleed into the future. It’s time to put an end to this cycle. The stigma stops here. - Justine Torres Sources: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/21/health/cdc-coronavirus.html https://www.statnews.com/2020/03/13/national-emergency-coronavirus/ https://www.cnbc.com/2020/03/18/coronavirus-criticism-trump-defends-saying-chinese-virus.html https://www.cbsnews.com/video/asian-americans-face-rise-in-racist-incidents/ https://nextshark.com/asian-australians-suffered-discrimination-amid-covid-19-study-says/ https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/13557858.2020.1830035 https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/cases-updates/about-epidemiology/identifying-source-outbreak.html https://news.osu.edu/study-reveals-why-some-blame-asian-americans-for-covid-19/ https://www.hrw.org/news/2020/04/01/trump-adds-asian-americans-fears https://www.cnn.com/2020/10/24/us/asian-americans-covid-racism-xenophobia-unemployment/index.html Cover Photo Source: Lisa Wool-Rim Sjöblom

The Hyphen. Merriam Webster defines a hyphen as, “a punctuation mark - used especially to divide or to compound words, word elements, or numbers; a punctuation mark used to divide or compound words; divide or compound words.” This short little line - to divide or compound words has been the definition of my identity. It is the definition of my struggles to discover who I am, where I belong, and where I am meant to be. I am Chinese-American, Chinese, hyphen, American. I am Asian-American, Asian, hyphen, American. That little line divides my identity, compounds my identity. It divides my identity when I am called a banana at school When I am not Asian enough for the Asians, but not white enough for the “Americans” It divides my identity at family dinners When I see my elders converse in Chinese, but see my cousins unable to use chopsticks. It divides my identity when I travel When I am asked, “How do I speak English so well?” like my face says I shouldn’t. It makes me long for a place I never grew up or lived in, while I feel alienated in the place I was born. I am Chinese-American, Chinese, hyphen, American. I am Asian-American, Asian, hyphen, American. That little line divides my identity; compounds my identity. It compounds my identity when I visit Chinatown with my grandparents When I can feel at home among the open-air stores and bakeries. It compounds my identity when I go to school And I can speak proudly of my heritage and history. It compounds my identity when I speak and write Reminding me how far my family has come to live in this country. I am Chinese-American. I am Asian-American. The Hyphen holds together a history of two cultures, two societies, two identities. Yet I am one person. Like the Hyphen, I am a little line that holds two words of great meaning together. I am the Hyphen. I am a connector, compounder, and divider. Cover Photo Source: The Daily Trojan

On November 14th, Candace Owens, a Black conservative author, tweets in response to Vogue's recent cover of Harry Styles, in which he dons a beautiful dress. Source: https://www.vogue.com/article/harry-styles-cover-december-2020 “There is no society that can survive without strong men. The East knows this. In the west, the steady feminization of our men at the same time that Marxism is being taught to our children is not a coincidence. It is an outright attack. Bring back manly men.” Bring back manly men. That doesn’t sit right with me. To add to that, Candace posted a 9 minute video few days later on her Instagram to further elaborate on her point, emphasizing the same phrase: Bring back manly men. So Candace, I would like to respond to your recent statements. What defines a manly man to you? From my perspective, your view of a normal, acceptable man is built on the foundation of stereotypical gender norms that have carried over from the past. Is your perfect image of a man a straight, strictly masculine, tough, big guy who flaunts their strength? Because news flash, our ever-changing society refuses to conform to the gender roles that have plagued us for centuries, and it isn’t new. From Prince to Freddie Mercury to even BTS, it is clear how the concept of “masculinity” is no longer a dominating factor in finding one’s identity, which is a great step forward for us! Your object of offense is no more than an image of a man wearing a dress. You, or practically anyone else, have no right to define what is seen as normal, especially as a woman who wears suits, which stereotypically have been seen as a “masculine” type thing. This same line of thinking even traces back to medieval times when men would wear dresses and other articles of clothing that today would be considered feminine, further proving how gender roles are completely and utterly useless. Secondly, what makes you think that politics has anything to do with this? Based on your recent IGTV, I noticed that you stated the “feminization” of men and the overall sort of “gender flips” are caused by the liberal agenda. Because according to you, they want to denounce everything that is seen as normal by‘“shov[ing] [it] down [our] throats.” You add on about the foolishness of women not needing to rely on men; in your eyes, it's a useless attempt at feminism. To put it simply: nobody used the idea of breaking gender norms as a weapon to attack others, but rather it is your own blindness and plain ignorance that is causing you to attack yourself. In a book written by Claire Cain Miller titled Many Ways to Be a Girl, but One Way to Be a Boy: The New Gender Rules, she describes a social experiment involving kids from age 10-19. An interesting finding I noticed is that three-quarters of the boys involved felt pressured to be this physically strong and athletic man. In other words, gender norms were what caused them to feel this unnecessary feeling of self-doubt. Nobody can benefit from these stereotypical ideas, which is why they need to be put to an end. Lastly, I ask, why does whatever someone does with THEIR life so greatly impact yours? In the end, these types of topics and decisions are honestly quite ridiculous to debate in the first place. What part of someone’s appearance affects you so negatively that you have to speak about it and invalidate their identity? How intolerant are you that celebrities wearing dresses upsets you so much that you find a way to connect it to Marxism? Again, I pose a similar question: what is normal to you? You continue to talk about and criticize people’s choices to change their appearance however they’d like. But in mine, I see it as a demonstration of your close-mindedness and your incapability to accept that people will dress the way they want to, act the way they want to, and still be able to be viewed as valid. Open your eyes! Stop holding the world back from progressive change! Because in the end, there's really no point pinpointing masculine and feminine qualities, because that stemmed from toxic masculinity and stereotyping. Thankfully, this is something we're now AWARE of! So guess what Candace, we won’t allow gender norms to control our lives for any longer<3 - Julianne T. Cover photo source: https://www.vogue.com/article/harry-styles-cover-december-2020

Dear Asian Youth, We’re all familiar with quarantine, and I can’t speak for everybody, but I started out pretty strong; I thought that it would be just a couple of home assignments, and my friends were a text away. School had been refashioned to come home with me, and as different as it felt, I realized that school was school no matter where it was. It would be just two weeks, I thought, and then we’d be back to normal life: the spring musical, finals, all that good stuff. For the time being, I was simply glad to be doing my work in my comfy full-sized bed in black Adidas sweats rather than at desks with uncomfy chairs and clothes I felt compelled to wear. Soon enough, two weeks turned into three. I continued creating Snapstreaks with the people I loved most and working on group projects through FaceTime rather than alongside my peers. I felt like I had finally adjusted to the gist of things; as if I had found a new normal. But exactly two weeks after that one unlucky Friday, my school’s production of Disney’s Alice in Wonderland Jr. was canceled indefinitely. I felt a piece of life, a piece of normalcy, being ripped from me. I knew that there would always be another show, but Alice had become such an important part of my life, and I finally realized the toll that quarantine would be taking on it. Sooner or later, the Snapstreaks dwindled, and the people I loved most were still the people I loved, just a spring musical and a couple text messages poorer. More and more cases and casualties were being reported. My friends’ missing assignments turned into grades plummeting, point by point. The numbers faded, and so did I. April was a blur; all I remember was that Broadway was closed until at least the 12th and I spent my birthday playing The Sims 4. Not to make it too deep, but I’d felt so deprived of living that I resorted to San Myshuno and Simoleons. May was a hallmark; I got my first girlfriend, the first girl I’d ever felt that I’d loved, and it was one of the highlights of my quarantine. But even then, loving her made me feel an exorbitant deprivation of the pure platonic love that kept me going. Sometime in between the beginning of May and one month after we had started dating, my friends were planning a little picnic downtown. Obviously, my parents didn’t let me go, and I completely understood; at the time, it didn’t feel like the safest thing to do, so not going wasn’t a huge deal, but that was when I realized that what I needed most was other people. In June, my girlfriend and I went to Olive Garden after one month of being together; it was the first time that I had dressed up properly and seen somebody since March 13th. In July, we went on two dates, and as I continued to go out and see her, I finally began to feel a sense of “normalcy” returning. The Diablo’s and my plaid pants meant so much after months of isolation. Boba was sweeter than it had ever been, and my white leather Converse still held up pretty well after not being worn for several months. But the matching pink bandanas and the surgical masks finalized what meant most to me. Quarantine taught me the importance of love and companionship, platonic or romantic. Come August, and we’re all back in school. I’m fortunate enough to have been given this opportunity for in-person education, and I’ve decided to make the most of it. So now, I’ve traded in my sweats for crewnecks and collars. And even though that relationship has worn away, I still have the pink bandana, a reminder of how love has, and will always, keep me going. Sometimes, I’ll tie it around my forehead, rocking it as I dance my heart out during my second class of the day. While life still hasn’t returned to “normal,” I’m trying my best to bring it back on my own terms. And to bring it back, I realize that the root of my old normal, and the root of my new normal, was and always will be, love. - Sebastian Paragas Cover Photo Source: Abby Haddican

I have yet to download the app TikTok. Ever since the app came out, I had hesitated to try it, considering that I wanted to be wary of getting addicted like most people at the time were (and still are). Just like Instagram, TikTok is a platform to cling onto people’s attention and never let go. As a result, I figured it was best for me to stay away. That being said, the app has done some great things, from artists becoming recognized and people having the opportunity to have fun during quarantine. However, as the year went on, my Instagram began to fill up with TikTok videos, and soon enough, I was watching these people with pretty faces begin to appear more and more often. As I became familiar with these people, I learned about their stories and what they were doing with their lives. I couldn’t tell you the true reason behind their fame, but it definitely involves a couple of these: their race, appearance, wealthy background, clothing style, and luck. And while Instagram showed me their faces, Snapchat told me who they were: young Caucasian teenagers part of content creating houses, running social media with their lives. Avoiding TikTok, as a result, was and is nearly impossible. At first, when this entire process of TikTok brainwashing occurred, I was almost mesmerized by these people––how were they living such carefree lives while I was at home studying for my next tests, worrying about my future? I envied these people whose lives looked too easy. However, as I took a break from social media, I took a step back from the dream of TikTok and woke up to reality when I heard about the parties during COVID-19, racial slurs, and the drama. Not all, but many of the largely followed influencers did deserve the envy, I realized. I became sick and tired of the consistent Snapchat involvement in what a TikToker did one day, what somebody said in response on Twitter, and how the apologies and stupidity never ended. Why were they so special? Most importantly, why were people so invested in their lives? What infuriates me most about this app isn’t necessarily the people, the money, or the content (though there are a few exceptions, like why certain people are rising up the ranks because they can dance in a 20-second video). How come opportunities that used to be for established, well-known, memorable people have now been given to teenagers who can barely keep the drama between themselves mature? I don’t know the answer to this myself, but people admire these people on new levels where even a 16-year-old can get sponsored by all her favorite brands. If I were to search up the name “Charli D’Amelio” on Instagram, more than a dozen accounts would pop up: fan accounts, outfit accounts, etc. Many, many people––not only teenagers, but also certain adults––have become invested in these people’s lives, who, have not done anything exceptional, pushing them to quickly type comments of love or hate. Without knowing the full story, many people are quick to assume what has been shown to them is the truth and act dumbly on that mere assumption. Furthermore, young teenagers are often idolizing these influencers in ways that seem unhealthy as they treat these people like their own best friends when really, all they know is the online persona of that TikToker. On the other hand, many can begin hating a person because of what they said ten years ago and attempt to “cancel” them. I’m not sure where to draw the line. What’s worse is that none of us know, but too many of us care too much to realize the spiral we’ve been sucked into. This is the reality of our generation. We live in a century where the internet and social media is growing up with us, taking a step each time we scroll on an app, inching closer to us each day. I’m grateful for this opportunity to live in a world where I don’t need to spend hours at a library to find the information I need or worry about finding a phone to call my mom with because I have one in my pocket. Nonetheless, I’m afraid and concerned about the lengths people will go to to either hate on somebody or love somebody. It’s so easy to judge a person based on a small square on a screen that we can double-tap in under two seconds, and it’s so simple to press “comment” on a post where we see something we don’t like. And this goes beyond just the influencers. So, how do we learn to let go, not to get sucked into the unimportance of other people’s business? How can we learn to unwind from the ropes of teenage drama? When will we remember that there is more than our phone screens? I’m still learning to grasp these messages as many of us are, as we attempt to navigate a world where the media consumes our very lives. But here’s the first step, which seems simple enough, but also difficult for many people: unwind from social media every now and then. It’ll remind you that there’s so much more than petty Twitter feuds and celebrity gossip. - Hannah Chen Cover photo source: https://www.vox.com/open-sourced/2019/12/16/21013048/tiktok-china-national-security-investigation

Dear Asian Youth, We are taught at a young age that failure is bad. In elementary school, we were told that it was okay to make mistakes, but as we grew older, that margin of error became slimmer. We were told to enjoy learning, yet to fear the prospect of failing because of bad grades. So what was the point of tricking kids into thinking they could fail gracefully when in reality, all we do is fail gracelessly? As a kid, I would do addition or subtraction wrong and feel minimal pressure to perfect the concept then and there. My teacher would scoot next to me and use a whiteboard to show me the method to a correct answer. Instead of reprimanding or disciplining me, she would simply guide me to success. But that changed in high school. Somehow, as we get older, we are forced into environments where the absence of learning and pressure for high marks co-exist. Asking for help almost feels shameful because we feel that our inability to process the material quickly makes us inferior. If high scores equate to intelligence, are we expected to be born perfect? The thing about mistakes is that even if we hate losing or being bad at something, we should give ourselves the room to stop. Just stop and ponder about the material. Process and analyze the material without worrying about getting 100 on your test. I know it’s easy to say, “just forget about achieving good grades and focus on the importance of learning!” I can’t ask you to do that because I strive for perfection, too. But, at the same time, I know my limits. I know that sometimes I have to allow myself to be helpless and to get that bad mark: there’s no way to be at our best constantly. It’s human to fail. Mistakes make us human, and ignoring the fact that we can lose our composure is harmful. As much as I dislike feeling helpless, sometimes, it’s inevitable. - Ella Cover Photo Source: Salesforce

Dear Asian Youth, “I’m Chinese,” I tell him, the words flowing almost instinctively from my mouth. It’s a line that I’ve come to know intimately, and at this point, the words “I’m Chinese” in response towards “so where are you from,” or “what are you,” are practically automatic. The other boy nods politely, curiosity seemingly satisfied, and offers his own background with a matching smile on his face. “I’m Vietnamese,” he responds. I flicker my ebony eyes over his face, taking in the familiar Vietnamese features I can spy. “Oh,” I say, interrupting him with a slight curl of the lip, “I’m Vietnamese as well!” Upon his mildly perplexed expression, I add “Half.” I clarify that my dad is from China and my mom is from Vietnam. He nods again in understanding, and we continue on with our conversation. I don’t think I ever talked to that boy again, and I probably never will. I was ten then, a short, stubby fifth-grader with too much mulch on her shorts and too many ribbons in her hair sitting in a school that held an unusually large amount of Asians. Although in reality, most of them were just Chinese. I am fairly certain that was the first time I had met another person of Vietnamese descent (other than my cousins) and that is likely the only reason I can remember the brief encounter even after all these years. That incident was one of the first times I had told someone I was Vietnamese. It’s interesting, curious even, that I used to only tell people I was Chinese. Curious, because there was no logical reason behind my blatant disregard for half of my identity. I was neither embarrassed nor ashamed to be Vietnamese; I had simply not recognized myself as one. I grew up learning how to mold my tongue to the sharp accents of Chinese and how to shape my hand to smoothly fit a pair of chopsticks in between my fingers. My baba would speak to me in the tongue of a country on the other side of the world while my mom would speak to me in the curved tones of English. I grew up hearing the sweet caress of my mother’s voice that often carried a soft Vietnamese lilt to it, but I never grew up hearing exactly where that accent came from. I attended a Chinese school every Sunday, surrounded by an entire community that came from the same place my dad did, but my mom was the only Vietnamese person I knew for years to come. So when people asked me what I was, I’d instantly respond with “I’m Chinese,” because to the me three years ago, five years ago, and ten years ago, that was all I was. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hide the fact that I was Vietnamese; if anything, ten year old me was actually weirdly proud to be half Vietnamese. There was something rather appealing to a fifth grader about being “mixed''. Even so, almost nobody knew I was Vietnamese and that was largely because I had essentially “forgotten” about that half of me. I have a lot of regrets, and this will always be one of them. I regret that my eight year old self never asked or whined to my mom about how I would love to hear her honeyed voice speak to me in the soft rounded curves of Vietnamese. How I’d like to learn how to twist my tongue and imprint it with the language of her childhood home. Of course, I have the opportunity to do that now, but it is regretful that I had spent such a long part of my life unable to fully appreciate every aspect of my heritage. The fact that my mother’s culture may get lost in my ignorance and obliviousness frightens me. It is a terrifying thing to know that my mother who sacrificed her home, her country, and her family, in order to come here, may lose even more. My beautiful mom, with her tanned skin adorned with faint wrinkles like fresh laundry, with her elegant fingers that brush through my hair at night and leave affection in the wake of her caresses, I hope that she knows that I carry the few Vietnamese words I know like she carries that jade bracelet on her left hand the color of forest leaves. I hope that she knows that I carry the few memories I have of going to the temple with her as preciously as she carries that gold Buddha against her slender neck. I hope that she knows that I will no longer forget who I am and where I come from. - Feileen Cover photo source: https://www.holidify.com/pages/vietnamese-culture-1318.html

Dear Asian Youth, November 7th, 2020: Kamala Harris becomes the first South Asian, Black, Woman vice president elect of the United States of America. I never thought I would see the day where a South Asian woman like myself holds a seat on a presidential ticket. Now that I have witnessed such an event, I have transitioned from hoping to knowing that women belong to the future presidencies and vice presidencies of the United States of America. After 244 years of racial and gender oppression, the seat of Vice President of the USA belongs to a woman. However, this accomplishment would not have been possible without the previous efforts of other powerful women to fight gender inequality and advocate for equal rights. They include Congresswoman Bella Abzug, who played a key role in integrating women leadership in the House of Representatives, Madeleine Albright, the first woman to be Secretary of State, FDR Advisor Mary McLeod Bethune, a main figure in defending Black rights and the legacy of the Women’s Army Corps, and Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who played a heavy part in fighting sex discrimination through ruling court cases. Alongside many others, these women have played monumental roles in expanding the true equality of the checks and balances that make up our American system today. The American political scene has been led by males for centuries and is far behind other countries that have already elected women to serve as the Head of Government and/or State. Angela Merkel, current Chancellor of Germany, has been seated in this position for the past 15 years. Chancellor Merkel has championed human rights as an essential imperative, opening Germany borders in the face of the humanitarian emergency of Europe’s recent refugee crisis. She has helped repair Germany’s economy to be one of the strongest in the world, while maintaining a strong diplomacy with other countries during summits such as G-20 and NATO. Another powerful woman that comes to mind is Jacinda Ardern, the incumbent Prime Minister of New Zealand. PM Ardern is most famously known for her incredible response to the terrorist attack on two Christchurch mosques on March 15, 2019. The shooting took the lives of 51 individuals, and was a devastating blow to New Zealand’s internal peace. In response, New Zealand’s government passed the Arms Amendment Act of 2019, banning semi-automatic firearms, magazines, and parts on April 10th. It took 26 days to pass an act on gun control that was desperately needed during the time and this monumental decision has made the country safer and less tolerant of hate crimes. Jacinda Ardern led this movement to make New Zealand a more protected country, and paved the way for several other nations to do the same. Both Jacinda Ardern and Angela Merkel continue to govern their respective countries; it is worth noticing that because of their leadership, their nations have each been saved from different crises, Germany from an economic recession and New Zealand from future terrorist attacks. These two women, along with many more female leaders, play great roles in keeping peace in global affairs, and are instead ridiculed for their decisions. The stigma that surrounds women in leadership roles, even in the common workplace, needs to stay in the past in order for the world to proceed towards a better future. Whether through school or family, , most children have been indirectly nurtured into believing that the concept of society where women are leaders is alien; from “girls” magazines that talk about the latest fashion trends and “boys” magazines that discuss “Exploring Your Future”, to learning about mostly male figures in the sciences and social studies. While some may argue that men did in fact invent more, achieve more, and are therefore, popularized more; they are incorrect. Men were given a higher education than women, and were pushed to learn more so they could do more. Alternatively, it is imperative to keep in mind that there were several important women scientists and leaders in the past; however, they were not given the recognition that they deserved. Marie Curie, for example, is seldom taught about in any science or history class. Curie is one of only two Nobel laureates who has been awarded the Nobel Prize twice, in Physics and Chemistry. Her discoveries formed the basis of modern chemistry; she coined the term, “radioactivity” and uncovered core principles of the atomic theory. Marie Curie is one of the myriad of women who have greatly contributed to the construction of current society, and to a greater degree, the education that is being taught to boys instead of girls in many countries. Everyone is born with a voice but for many women, these voices need to be enabled in order for them to be heard. Through education, Malala Yousafzai advocated for her own rights, even in the most perilous of situations. The reality that a girl’s life is endangered when she desires to be educated- to be in the known, is unacceptable and should be the main fuel to the fire when it comes to fighting for female rights. The lack of such consideration and decency is absolutely horrifying when put into perspective with the age of human civilization. Girls all over the world need to be taught from a young age that their voices matter, and that their opinions are equal to that of their male counterparts. Future generations are an integral part of society as they present an opportunity to disrupt the status quo, for better or worse. Women leaders have been fighting the patriarchal status quo for years, in hopes to transform the norms of this public institution into a civilization where women receive the same opportunities that men have had since the birth of society. It is crucial for parents to educate their daughters, in the same way that they educate their sons. If all girls were treated as if they were the ones who would be leading the future, then the gender imbalance that society maintains will decrease by drastic measures. Additionally, every child needs to grow up being taught to accept one another for who they are, regardless of their differences. Overall, while academics are highly important to be learned, basic courtesies are equally imperative; if performed more, will greatly improve the foundations of society from judgemental to empathetic. The line between privileges and rights needs to be defined clearly, in order to emphasize what many women around the world are fighting for. In summary: Education is a right, not a privilege. Personal freedom is a right, not a privilege. Having a voice is a right, not a privilege. - Prerna Kulkarni Cover Photo Source: WHYY

Content Warning: R*ape, SA Dear Asian Youth, The misconceptions and lies surrounding the “radical” idea of defunding the American police system is incredibly frustrating. People who don’t take the time to understand the nuances behind the issue take phrases like “ACAB” at surface level and presume that defunding the police is an inane idea fueled by anarchist ideals. I have heard so many bold claims that instigate fear by acting as if the plan is simply to abolish the police system and leave the streets of America completely unprotected. In reality, “defunding the police” refers to the relocation of police funding towards organizations that will take on responsibilities with which the police have been unqualified to handle. A poignant example is that the police are not equipped to help domestic abuse victims, despite the fact that according to the Practical Implications of Current Domestic Violence Research by the US department of Justice, domestic violence related police account for 15% to over 50% of all police calls, meaning that they are the largest category of calls received by the police. And, the same report reveals that though “It appears that victims' confidence in police response leads to more reports of new violence,” a mere 27% of women and 13.5% of men who experienced physical assault by an intimate partner and less than 20% of women victims reported intimate partner rapes to the police. Responses from the Field is a survey of 900 advocates, attorneys, service providers, and non-profit workers who support and represent both domestic violence and sexual assault victims, and the results provide insight into why this is happening. 88% of these surveyors claimed that at times the police do not believe, and even go as far to blame the victims for violence. The situation is even more troubling when 90% of the surveyors said that “contact with the police sometimes or often results in involvement of child protective services, threatening survivors with loss of custody of their child.” Finally, black women, who face some of the highest rates of domestic violence are forced to deal with an onslaught of issues when they report (Intimate Partner Violence Fact Sheet). In the words of Gretta Gardner, deputy director of the National Center on Violence Against Women in the Black Community, “ There’s this pathology about black women that we are kind of combative, the angry black women trope… we aren’t seen as true victims” (The Quiet Crisis Killing Black Women). Again this idea is reflected in the Responses from the Field report, where over 80% of surveyors believed that the “police-community relations with marginalized communities influenced survivors’ willingness to call the police.” Perhaps the police don’t care enough or aren’t trained enough to deal with domestic abuse victims, but either way they are unqualified to be the leaders in this particular fight for justice. Yet state and local governments spend an annual figure of $100 billion on law enforcement (Urban Institute). But imagine what organizations that specialize in helping domestic abuse victims could do with just a fraction of this funding. The police would no longer have to worry about helping domestic violence victims, and these victims would receive the treatment they deserve. In the long run this is expected to help more victims speak out about their experiences, even those within marginalized communities. The same concept applies for an incredible variety of societal issues. A broader example is mental health services. According to the Mental Health Problems of Prison and Jail Inmates report by the US Department of Justice, in 2005, 56% of State prisoners, 45% of Federal prisoners, and 64% of jail inmates were diagnosed with mental health issues. For perspective, only one in five American adults (20%) suffer from mental illness (National Institute of Mental Health). If we were to divert some of the police funding towards mental health funding we could prevent crimes from happening, which would, once again, lessen the burden placed on the police. After all, over policing and mass incarceration are short terms solutions. Going back to the example of mental health, punishing people for their disabilities and unfortunate positions does nothing but create a cycle of impoverishment. This concept also disproportionately affects Black people as society not only forces cycles of impoverishment but then creates disgusting and presumptive stereotypes about their situations, when so many are given no choice in a system that actively works against them. So, funding these organizations will improve the quality of life for marginalized communities and alleviate a greater issue of corporal punishment. But the fight doesn’t stop here, as many are also looking to abolish the police system altogether, primarily due to its unarguably racist origins and ongoing struggles with police brutality targeted towards Black people. As US Today points out, the original purpose of the police system was to act as slave patrols that targeted runaway slaves and suppressed rebellions. When slavery was abolished in 1865, that didn’t prevent Black people from being over-policed, segregated, and constantly restricted by unjust laws, which were evidently enforced by police officers. In fact, many government officials and police officers were official members of the Ku Klux Klan. Following the Civil Rights movement was the War on Drugs, which specifically targeted Black Americans. And just this year, Black people constitute 28% of those killed by the police even though they only make up 13% of the population (Mapping Police Violence). For these reasons, it is unfair to argue that some people feel safer around the police, when this is a privilege that so many BIPOC, especially Black people don’t have. It is unjust to support a system that only benefits some as it completely ignores the experiences of this marginalized community. So it doesn’t matter how much money we throw at deescalation training and racial bias recognition when the men and women in blue represent a system that ignores and abuses the needs of Black Americans. It’s easy for people to turn a blind eye towards the police’s misdeeds. They have been a part of our justice system for so long that it may seem as though defunding the police is one step too far, which is likely why the primary word used by the media to describe it is “radical.” But, understanding the complexities behind the idea itself shows that defunding the police targets root issues within the country as a whole and fights the systematic corporal punishment that forces minorities, particularly Black Americans into cycles of impoverishment. I hope that people become more willing to understand why so many people are fighting to defund the police and that the issue itself becomes less polarizing so that we can all march towards a safer America. - Lora Cover photo source: https://bit.ly/3aC1YCT

i. the duck on special occasions: birthdays, holidays, family reunions my family always eats peking duck all day we wait as the smell of succulent fatty crackling skin breezes merrily through our house drawing all to the oven, to the hearth, to the center of home carving the duck is an artisan’s job a performance art piece, no less as the whole family gathers around plates are set, chopsticks aligned in parallel with a pop and a fizz, drinks are poured we settle down for a meal that matters ii. the garnishes if the duck is the crown then our garnishes are its jewels fat lines of fresh emerald jalapeno, bespeckled with delicate amber seeds circular white diamonds from the tips of green onions long triangles of jade cucumber reminds us that a star is worth nothing without its supporting cast reminds us that life is better with the kindness we seek that every gentle nod and smile every “i’m thinking of you” text every inside joke every loving embrace every bit of wisdom given freely is another jewel on our crowns is another garnish completing our meal iii. the pancake thin, and still strong steamed, and still chewy mildly sweet, and still satisfying the pancake is the first and last step in assembling the peking duck when i was seven, my mother taught me how to perfectly measure your sauce and swirl it onto the pancake with grace and ease select the best pieces of duck the right amount of green onion and deftly carry them to your plate with your chopsticks to fold first the sides of the pancake and then the end encasing everything in the warm security of a simple pancake when i was seven, my mother also taught me how to tie my shoes how to check out books from the library how to bravely sled down any hill how to find the best parking spots in chinatown but the lesson i remember best is how to provide comfort to others warm others keep my loved ones close, and together wrap the perfect bite and sometimes, today my pancakes still fall apart or rip when i overstuff them or burn my hands with their heat i’ve got a lot more to learn and as i reach for another, i'm learning iv. the first and second bites the first bite is usually the worst it’s just the pancake and some jalapeno because, as usual, i’ve stuffed the duck too far down and though i’ve come to expect this disappointment it never gets better the second bite is infinitely superior when your peking duck skills finally pay off much like how a star will explode and elements will break apart, combine, create new things so will the ingredients i’ve carefully selected sometimes, though i get trapped in a series of first bites and each day is like an empty disappointment void of real substance of flavor, spice, texture sometimes i forget the feeling of second bites when my work isn’t paying off when i feel lonely or on pause endlessly chewing some bland, starchy mush and that’s when i tell myself yes, first bites are bad but a second one has to follow yes, first bites can seem to go on endlessly but, the second one will be worth it and i am more than capable of finding my second bite v. the bones this thanksgiving when i was getting ready to eat my peking duck i was asked a question, by a total stranger nonetheless, “i guess it's not turkey you’re eating?” and i felt like i was in the oven red glowing eyes on me my flesh roasting slowly my skin popping and burning my shame was ugly like a stripped duck carcass carelessly left behind odd bits of meat hanging off bones greasy fat pooling everywhere grey bones peeking through forming a useless pile of waste and i thought: why am i even angry? because it was true i didn’t want turkey i never did and all year my mind had been focused on succulent fatty duck but already, i knew the answer he had assumed that i would not be eating turkey because i looked different because people who look different must act differently, right? i was angry because people who look different must celebrate american holidays differently right? because he had never ever considered that it was my choice to eat turkey or duck to eat pie or cake to freely make the choices that all people are entitled to because he had looked at me as a duck in a flock of turkeys but the best part about peking duck is that the bones are transformed that after the main meal is done the bones are stewed into a delicate light soup which is met with equal excitement and acclaim nothing is ever wasted i stewed my shame with a vengeance i cooked it until it was nothing i looked up and saw millions of peking duck eaters doing the same i am proud, now that i can choose between duck and turkey that i have eaten different foods that i have seen different sights that i have spoken different languages that i am different next year, who knows? i might be asked the same question and if i am i’ll be ready with my crown of duck bejeweled with cucumber wrapped in a sturdy pancake and a side of boiled pride to eat away ignorance and reclaim my culture Cover Photo Source: LovePik.com