For a lot of people, commemorations like AAPI Heritage Month or Black History Month aren’t straightforward celebrations. Sometimes they feel like tokenism, lip service, and I get it.
But as someone who hasn’t always widely embraced that part of me, I appreciate having the month as a regular check-in with how I’ve evolved over the past year in integrating being Asian American.
It’s been a loud time.
There have been big wins. The successes of Turning Red, and Everything Everywhere have brought an on-screen visibility I KNOW I didn’t grow up with. At the same time, the perpetual threat of hate crimes isn’t something that quickly abates.
As a storyteller, I know it’s easier to focus on superlatives. And they’re typically worthy of attention. But community is forged through the repetition of ordinary rituals, time after time. Tuesday afternoons at the 99 Ranch. Karaoke nights in Little Saigon. Browner shades in kids books. Calling cards and remit centers. B-Boys on TikTok. Pounding breadfruit to make poi.
The story keeps going. Keeps writing itself. And while I’m stoked on Shohei and Simu and Squid Gamers… I also know it’s being written by multitudes.
AAPI Heritage Month