Every morning for the past 38 years, when looking at my reflection in the mirror, it's not just my own face that I see—but also those of my parents, my childhood neighborhood of Flushing, and every Asian-American person who has paved the way in this country before my time.
Yet, even though I am the main character to my own life, so much of American film, tv, and media has perpetually shown anyone with facial features like mine as the outsider, someone whose existence depends entirely on another non-Asian character, or perhaps someone whose story does not deserve to be told at all.
Until recently, for me, this is how much of the Asian American experience has felt like. To wake up everyday and know that I am here as a full person with layers and dimension, yet to never feel fully seen.
Well, with the ongoing anti-Asian hate since the onset of the pandemic, more than ever, I think the world is ready for more Asian-American stories of all kinds.
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