Asian and American: No Longer Choosing Between the Two

The world as I knew it had come to a screeching halt. The murders of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd had shaken me to my core. I was standing alone in my bathroom, listening to a podcast—a conversation between Dr. Daniel Lee, Academic Dean for the Center for Asian American Theology and Ministry at Fuller Theological Seminary, and Dr. Mark Labberton, then president of the seminary. Dr. Lee described a powerful moment he’d witnessed time and again in his classroom: Asian American students, after deep engagement with their own stories and histories, coming to the sudden realization—they weren’t white.

As I stood in front of the mirror, I said aloud, “I’m not white!” Of course, I had always known this on the surface. But what I was really naming was something deeper: I had spent much of my life minimizing or avoiding my racial identity in order to fit in, to be accepted, to not stand out. That moment marked the beginning of a profound journey—one where I began to see my Asian American identity not as an obstacle to be overcome, but a gift to be embraced.

Raised in Vancouver, Canada, I had little knowledge of Asian American history. So I dove in headfirst—reading everything I could, watching films, speaking with historians. But I wanted more than head knowledge. I needed to walk the stories, feel the places. So I created an Asian American civil rights tour—at first just for me. But others joined in. Since 2021, almost forty people have experienced this tour with another planned for later this year.

Together, we visit Koreatown in L.A., reflecting on the impact of the 1992 riots and ongoing Black-Korean tensions. We explore Little Tokyo and Manzanar, where over 10,000 Japanese and Japanese Americans were unjustly incarcerated during World War II. We stand on Angel Island, the Ellis Island of the West, where Chinese immigrants faced brutal detention under exclusionary laws. In San Francisco’s Chinatown—the oldest in North America—we trace a legacy of pain, resistance, and cultural flourishing.

This journey has been transformative. It has helped me reclaim the parts of myself I once pushed away. And it’s why AAPI Heritage Month matters deeply to me. It’s not just a celebration—it’s a mirror and a spotlight. It reflects our stories, struggles, and resilience back to us. It gives visibility to what has too often been silenced. Most importantly, it reminds us that we don’t have to choose between being Asian and being American. We are fully both. And that is something to be seen, honored, and embraced.

Andrew Kim (Liminal Branch Leader)