awareness – Turbulent Mind

March 24, 2021March 24, 2021

Growing Up Asian-American

I have hesitated. I have written and re-written this. I have felt wrong about speaking up for various reasons. First of all, I feel that the attention should not be ripped away from other marginalized groups. There are still struggles that other folks are experiencing that, I believe, far outweigh my struggles. Second of all, I have always felt a reluctance to speak out. I have, after all, inadvertently, benefited from being the model minority and being culturally East Asian. Those are all aspects of my existence that I do wish to address. But the third and final reason that I have been reluctant to speak out is because of my upbringing.

I was brought up to keep my head down, work twice as hard, and just prove that I am more than worthy to sit at the “American” table. I was warned, time and time again, by my ever-realistic parents, that even if I technically am all-American, I will never truly be “American” in the eyes of many. There was nothing I could do about that. I may not sound different, but I look different. I carry that “foreign” last name. I am, therefore, perpetually “foreign.”

As a child, I grew up wishing I had fair colored hair, fair skin, and light colored eyes. Yep, folks, I would dream that I woke up white. I wished, so badly, that my parents didn’t pick such a weird Western name. Why couldn’t my name be Chelsea or Kelsey or Brittany? What the hell is Yvonne? And, dear GOD, why can’t I have a last name that someone can get right the first time? Like Anderson or Smith? Hell, I’d ask the same for my first name. As an adolescent I didn’t realize that my parents already tried their best to make me as palatable to America as possible. The only Chinese thing about me was my last name. I did all of the sports, participated in every extra curricular, went over to my white friend’s houses, and wore all of the “cool” brands that the other kids were wearing. My parents worked extra hard to afford things that would make me seem more “normal” in comparison to my friends.

At school, I experienced kids pulling their eyes back while chanting “Chinese, Japanese!” while pulling their eyes different directions. Classmates saying that I might fit in better if I “moved back to China.” (I know, what the hell? My family is from Vietnam and we’re culturally Chinese. HOW HARD IS THAT TO UNDERSTAND?) The very limited understanding of my culture and existence, and the fact that my white classmates lumped me together with other Asian-Americans created a really weird experience in my mostly white school. I do not recall ever having a conversation with a fellow Asian American classmate about some of the fuckery that we experienced. In fact, I am not close to any of my Asian American classmates from childhood at this point in my life. Even though, I’m sure, they experienced some of the same things I did, we never talked about how fucked up it made us feel. Hell, I’m sure some of us are still trying to persuade ourselves that none of it fucked us up at all.

The truth is, Asian hate has been everywhere for a really long time. It started in my father’s generation. He came to the United States in the early 1980’s after the Vietnam War. He was a refugee. Like refugees of current times, he was not nearly as welcomed as people may think. My dad would tell me, “It was a white man’s game. I either had to play the game under those rules, or play my own game. So I did.” This was him describing why he decided to drop out of university to open his own business. Even in his own game, he plays by the white man’s rules. His food he serves has to be fast, cheap, and delicious. Despite slaving over his made-from-scratch Pho broth for 12 or more hours a day, he keeps it cheap at less than $9 a bowl. So much of our existence and culture has been kept down. It’s valued when it’s convenient and thrown away when it’s not.

With the recent political climate and the pandemic upon us, we have seen that long standing hatred spew into news-worthy actions. Who wants to talk about racial slurs and microaggressions? Who wants to discuss wealth disparity between Asian ethnic groups in America? All of this has been going on for decades, but suddenly we have high profile cases of actual violence. Now we’re talking.

So let’s talk. Being Asian American isn’t the hardest, but it definitely isn’t easy. I experienced both overt and covert racial aggressions on the regular during my childhood. I watched as people treated my parents like they were idiots, just because they spoke with a foreign accent. I learned to feel embarrassed for my parents rather than enraged on their behalf. Instead, I should have been feeling proud that my parents were successfully living a life speaking and functioning in their fourth languages. It wasn’t until I became an adult did I learn how to be proud and angry. I still am learning how to feel angry about the treatment of my people and other POCs. I fear for the lives of my family and friends every day, and I hope that by reading a snippet of my experience as an Asian American woman, you can stand up for basic human decency.

Also, to my fellow Asian Americans that are “so shocked by this sudden burst of hatred,” are you really shocked? Come on now. Why are we still excusing some of the bullshit “microaggressions” as people “meaning well?”

March 9, 2021March 9, 2021

Toxic Positivity

Folks, it’s time I talk about toxic positivity and how it’s secretly everywhere.

How can positivity be toxic? Well, the simplified and short answer is that toxic positivity dismisses the very valid mental health struggles that all people go through. It is especially debilitating for people that suffer from mental illness. It shames those that are not feeling 100% OK and pushes the responsibility on them to appear OK for the comfort of others.

We’ve all heard it: “Good vibes only.” The overgeneralized positive state that people are encouraged to adopt regardless of the situation. I think the detriments of toxic positivity really reared its ugly head during 2020. How the hell are you supposed to just be positive through a pandemic that is taking lives and affected every facet of life?

Toxic positivity has driven decade-old friendships of mine to the ground. In fact, I had a friend who was calling to “check up on me” berate me for “not being grateful.” Toxic positivity doesn’t recognize the duality of humans. It doesn’t recognize that a person can be depressed and grateful at the same time. Like, shit, I’m grateful for all of the things I have and the people in my life, but damn do I feel like a sack of steaming hot crap. And that’s the shitty part of toxic positivity. It encourages people to label emotions as “positive” or “negative” rather than allowing people to process and work through them.

That isn’t to say that positivity doesn’t have its merits. It most certainly does! With reason, positivity is able to uplift spirits and bring people just above that drowning point. However, overwhelming and indiscriminate positivity has the effects of shaming and isolating people suffering from mental illness.

To friends and loved ones of people with mental illness, it can be really uncomfortable when someone you love expresses that they’re dealing with difficult emotions. This is where we often lean on “keep your chin up” or “stay positive” to get out of these uncomfortable situations. But if you have the emotional space to listen, you can really make a difference. Some things to do when someone close to you expresses that they are struggling:

Avoid encouraging them to “just forget about it.” Chances are they’ve tried.
Being “grateful” won’t magically replace feeling down and it won’t erase the struggle.
Just lend an ear without judgement or offering unsolicited advice.
Remind them that it’s OK to not be 100% OK all of the time

To those that struggle with mental illness, what are some things that loved ones have said or done for you that have helped you through a hard time?

September 22, 2020

Reassuring Signs of Healing

It’s been a while my friends. It’s been turbulent. It’s been trying. But I am proud to say it has been a journey I’ve been going through on my own. As I’ve been reflecting on this rather tumultuous period of my life, I’m realizing that I’ve been exhibiting some really subtle signs of some major healing. Signs that I thought were simply signs that I was sliding back.

Being able to brush things off – There was a time when the smallest bit of conflict, and the smallest little hiccup would send me into a complete meltdown. I first noticed this newfound ability to brush off unexpected events or mishaps in recent weeks, as my work has been piling on the unexpected meetings, tutoring sessions, and workshops.
Things that I thought would devastate me, simply don’t – As a person with anxiety, I have thought of every single unfortunate event and imagined what I would feel like if that event were to happen. With anxiety, the emotion was always blown out of proportion. When that “devastating” event happened, it would be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Not anymore. Since I’ve been regularly practicing rationalizing “catastrophized” thoughts, I have already worked out my feelings toward the devastating event.
I allow myself to feel what I need to feel, both good and bad – I spent a lot of my childhood and younger adulthood running away from the “bad feelings.” I never wanted to feel sad, hurt, angry, frustrated, or hopeless. All of this running took its toll on me last year when my emotions cup completely filled and continued to overflow well into this year. Being able to sit with my difficult emotions is an ongoing process for me. I still become completely overcome with panic when a difficult feeling creeps up. I always feel myself fighting it first, but I have noticed my newfound ability to take a step back and allow the feeling to just pass.
Coming to an understanding that I, too, deserve love – I spent a lot of my time in my last serious relationship questioning whether or not a “person like me” deserved to be loved. With all of my shortcomings, my traumas, and my struggles, was I deserving of love? If I cannot always choose to love me, do I have the ability to love and be loved by another? The answer is, yes. I did then. I do now. I always have and always will deserve to be loved and respected no matter what state my mind is in. I also have come to the understanding that anyone that tells me, “You need to love yourself before you seek love,” is someone that just really doesn’t have the capacity to deal with someone that will always have to actively choose to love themselves despite the gut feeling that they should loathe themselves instead. While I do need to continue to work on self-love and acceptance, I do not need to be free of baggage to be loved.

I am still a long ways from the me that I want to be. I am still experiencing dissociation that cuts myself off from enjoying the present. However, I have a light at the end of the tunnel: a long-awaited break from working in a place that has taken me for granted and also begun to take advantage of my ability to function despite the underlying anxiety and depression that often cripples me the moment I get home. A new beginning is on the horizon, and I am hanging onto a sliver of hope that I can make more progress in my mental health journey with a balanced environment.