I am an immigrant. I am a person of color. I am Asian American.
By: Tommy Chang
Tags: Asian American, Immigrants, Educational Equity

While the experiences of immigrants and communities of color are varied and diverse, we share many familiar experiences. Our shared lived experiences serve as our connective tissue. Throughout the civil rights movement, this connective tissue has served as a binding force in the building of coalitions across racial, cultural, and linguistic lines.

Recently, however, Asian communities are portrayed as being divided from other communities of color on critical education issues. I hope that by sharing my personal story, I can add my perspective on educational equity and, more importantly, remind us of the shared legacy of standing together for social justice.

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I am an immigrant.

I have a vivid memory of my first day of school in America. It was the typical pleasant day in Southern California and I was standing on the blacktop of my new elementary school, waiting for PE class to start. I was probably dressed like the picture you see above, but with a light jacket tied around my waist. I was standing on top of a painted number alongside my fellow classmates, side-by-side in a perfectly straight line. The PE teacher, a large Caucasian man, walked up to me and shouted, “Take your jacket and put it on the ground!” Of course, I did not understand what he was saying to me. I had just arrived in America and did not understand any English. “Take your jacket and put it on the ground!” I did not respond. “Take your jacket and put it on the ground!” I was so confused.

He grabbed me by the arm and lifted me up into the air. Dangling by one arm, I was taken to the front door of my classroom and thrown on the ground. The PE teacher told my first grade teacher Ms. Cowles that I was not allowed back into PE classroom until I could follow directions. This experience, on my first day of school in America, left an indelible mark on my psyche and began a process of suppressing my cultural and linguistic identity.

Immigrants come to this country because they believe in the possibility of America- that hard work will lead to a better life for themselves and their children. This country was built by immigrants looking for liberation socially, politically, and religiously. Immigrants accept the reality that there will be loss- of relationships with friends and family, of financial savings, of comforts of the familiar. My parents were willing to make these sacrifices because their American dream was solely focused on ensuring their two sons would have a better future. They were right but not without other sacrifices as well.

Coming to America at the age of 6, I understood Taiwanese and Mandarin, loved eating my favorite dish- sticky rice with stewed pork, and went to Buddhist temple with my relatives. Growing up in America though, my parents thought I would learn English faster by avoiding Taiwanese and Mandarin, ordered us American food when we went out to restaurants, and allowed me to attend a Protestant Church with my friends. My parents, like many immigrants, understood that I would always be seen as a perpetual foreigner in this country. So, they insisted that I assimilated as quickly as possible. That experience on my first day of school in America reinforced this belief. Even though I may not look like an American, I needed to talk like an American, eat like an American, and pray like an American. With the best of intent, my parents marginalized our family’s own cultural and linguistic identity, and I abided.

Today, I speak without an accent and dream only in English. I can name all 50 states in alphabetical order; recite the Pledge of Allegiance and the Lord’s Prayer; and I will always order that fancy burger with fancy fries on the restaurant menu. But unfortunately, when my mom asks me for my opinion about a serious dilemma, I cannot find the right words in Taiwanese to convey my authentic thoughts and emotions to her. (Sadly, she can probably never truly understand this essay.)

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I am a person of color.

The Japanese proverb “a nail that sticks out gets hammered down” resonates for many in communities of color. Growing up, my parents insisted that I should be afraid of authority and never push back on people with power. Teachers, police officers, and others with authority were people to be feared and when they give instructions, we should just listen and comply even when a situation is unjust. My parents understood our physical safety was primary, and our emotional safety was secondary. While I grew up engrossed with American values of independence, competition and directness, those “life lessons” of our youth were not imprinted in my heart and mind. “Waiting for directions” gave me good citizenship grades during my school years, I realized that it translates into “lacking agency” in the workplace. So, I have had to fight my internal programming to hide amongst others, to be passive, and hold my opinions to myself. I must resist the urge to cower because as a person of color in leadership, my perspective is critical, even if not always embraced.

We cannot ignore the fact that while America was built on “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” it was also built upon the colonization of indigenous peoples and the forced immigration of enslaved people. From its early history, America created a caste system. Particular groups have always been relegated to the bottom of the system- whether they be Africans who were enslaved, Chinese laborers, or migrant farm workers. The vestiges of this subjugation through laws and practices have had a lasting impact for generations. As a result, there exists massive disproportionality rates for people of color on any critical measure, gaps in academic achievement, wealth, health, and life expectancy that have always existed and continue to persist to this day. These gaps perpetuate biases and assumptions about people of color, reinforce social norms, and lead to further marginalization. As a result, the reality of America has always been fundamentally inconsistent with its founding dream of “all [people] being created equal.”

In all my roles as a teacher, principal, and school district administrator, I have witnessed the marginalization of youth of color in schools and school systems. While no one will argue with the clear data points on opportunity and achievement gaps, we argue incessantly on the solutions. Over the last several decades, educators, philanthropists, politicians have found more ways to disagree than found ways to agree on the path forward for education reform in our country. While we argue, the gaps continue to persist. Communities of color were not always at the table to share our rich perspectives and thus feel alienated, disregarded and frustrated.

Yet there are reasons for optimism. Young people of color are continuing their legacy of driving change in our country. More people of color are running for elected offices and winning races. And in the spaces I occupy, I see more and more representation than at any other point in my career.

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I am Asian American.

The term “Asian American” does not point to a particular race or ethnic group. It is a term coined by academics and activists in the second half of the 20th century for political self-determination and to support an anti-racism and anti-imperialist agenda. While the meaning of the term has evolved over the last 50+ years, it is still grounded in ideals of collective impact and righting for issues of social justice.

For me, “Asian American” is a more accurate way of describing myself rather than other boxes that I have had to check in my life such as “Chinese, Asian, or Pacific Islander.” Actually, I probably identify myself more with the latter part of the term than the former.

Being Asian American is no more or less important part of my identity than being an immigrant or a person of color. I have never doubted that I am a person of color. I have both experienced the richness of my cultural identity and the hardship for not being a part of the dominant class. I never questioned that my Black and Latino brothers and sisters saw me as a person of color. Yet during my tenure as a superintendent, some people did ask, “Does he really get equity? He is, after all, Asian.I have also heard statements like, “Asians are not people of color because they are not marginalized in the same manner as people of color.” Those sorts of comments took me aback.

I was born with many privileges. I am an abled body, heterosexual man who is college educated in America and has the financial means to participate in the middle class. My privilege paved the way for me to eventually take on one of the greatest responsibilities a human being can have — the education of a city’s children as a superintendent. It was in that seat that I was questioned for “getting it”. While I understand that criticism goes with the job, I also believe that this was an example that the multitude of perspectives within Asian Americans were not getting out publicly. Case in point: In many recent news stories, there appears to be a pervasive narrative that pits Asian Americans against other communities of color on issues of educational equity.

One such issue has to do with the debate around the lawsuit against Mayor DeBlasio’s plan to increase diversity into “elite schools” in New York City. The current entrance requirement into these schools is solely based on performance on one exam and Mayor DeBlasio wants to change that policy. (Ironically, this type of system of meritocracy harkens similarities to the ancient Confucian examination system used in China and other Asian countries that favored particular ethnicities and castes, a system that is still in place in many parts of Asia.) Another such debate is the much discussed lawsuit against Harvard University being brought forward by a group called Students for Fair Admissions. A group that opposes all race-based admissions criteria. In that case, the prosecution has demonstrated that Asian Americans are rated lower by Harvard University’s admissions officers on criterion such as likability, courage, and being “widely respected.” As a result, some Asian American groups are supporting this right-wing effort to attack affirmative action policies that aim to create student bodies on college campuses that are reflective of the racial, cultural and socioeconomic diversity of our country and our world. In both cases, Asian Americans are portrayed as standing on the opposite side of civil rights organizations. Yet, in reality, there is great diversity of opinions and perspective among Asian Americans on these debates that is just not being shared broadly.

Why isn’t a broader narrative being painted? One, it makes for better news stories to have conflict. Two, it serves the status quo to paint Asian Americans within the model minority myth, the bias that Asian American inherently excel academically, often in math and science, in order to justify exclusion from assistance programs. This stereotype is a relatively new concept, created after World War II as a way to justify anti-black narratives. Third, as I previously discussed, many Asian Americans remain silent instead of fighting the internal programming to keep our opinions to ourselves.

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I am deeply passionate about the work for education equity and I know that a quality education can truly change life trajectories for young people. In coming months, I hope to continue sharing more thoughts publicly and engaging in more dialogue with those who are interested.

I leave this essay with two essential questions.

One, while opportunity and achievement gaps remain persistent, I believe there are solutions to be discovered that are rooted in the shared lived experiences of the communities we have historically marginalized, in particular immigrants and people of color. So, what are things that we all can be doing in our local context to ensure the cultural and linguistic assets of our diverse communities are sustained in our schools and classrooms, not suppressed?

Two, there is a rich history of Asian Americans working in solidarity with other people of color that is not often celebrated in our history books. Unfortunately, even today, the stories and perspectives of Asian Americans are often not shared through mainstream outlets, leaving important voices on the sidelines. So, how can we inspire and elevate the voices of Asian American educators to advance equity while fending off efforts to divide our communities?

I welcome your reactions and potential solutions to these last two questions.

My Bio:

I am an educational leader who has worked across the country, most recently serving as the Superintendent of Boston Public Schools from 2015–18. Prior to leading the school system in Boston, I served as the local instructional superintendent of the Intensive Support & Innovation Center at the Los Angeles Unified School District (LAUSD). I am a former high school biology teacher and high school principal. I received my masters in education from UCLA Center X and my doctorate in educational leadership for social justice from Loyola Marymount University. I am a member of Education Leaders of Color and Chiefs for Change. Currently, I am an educational consultant and a senior advisor of Whiteboard Advisors.