Embracing My Otherness
In many AAPI cultures, we are conditioned to be quiet and to assimilate (into the) dominant culture for the sake of “fitting in.” That was certainly my experience growing up in a Filipino household in San Jose. My parents, who had immigrated from the Philippines in the 1970s, intentionally taught my brother and me English, not Bisaya, our Filipino dialect, to fit in with our American peers. It wasn’t until that I learned to embrace what made me different that I truly began to realize how much power there is in being “othered.”
After graduating from college, I spent two years teaching English in Japan. While I had been surrounded by all kinds of AAPIs in the Bay Area and in college in San Diego, I stood out in Japan, a country that idealizes uniformity and not sticking out in the crowd. There’s actually a saying in Japan, 出る釘は 打たれる, which translates to the nail that sticks up will be hammered down.
Even though I was “American,” I did not fit the stereotype of what an American is in the eyes of the Japanese—tall, blonde and blue-eyed. And although I looked Asian but had a darker complexion, I was not Japanese, which in the mind of many Japanese people meant I was inferior. I was looked down upon.
“It was in Indiana that I learned what is was like to be a real minority—a person of color. I was often mistaken for an international student from Asia.”
Filipinos in Japan have a long history in the country, starting as entertainers in World War II. The majority of Filipinos came under entertainer visas, pursuing opportunities as hostesses—paid company for overworked businesspeople. One day during the summer, I was waiting to meet up with a friend in Kobe. A Japanese man in his mid-30s approached me and asked me in Japanese what I was doing. In Japanese, I told him I was meeting a friend. He then inquired as to whether or not I was going to “play” with my friend. “Play” was code in Japanese for being a hostess. I was puzzled and looked at him squarely, and in my politest Japanese told the guy I had a little business to take care of. He tried again to ask me if I was going to “play” and I repeated firmly “no.” I was offended. I had just been objectified and stereotyped.
Part of the reason why I was in Japan was to be a positive example, to show that Filipinos could be more than just hostesses or domestic servants.
Following my stint in Japan, I pursued my master’s degree at Indiana University in Bloomington, Indiana. I figured if I could spend two years living in another country, surely I could spend another two years in my own country, right? So, while I expected to feel out of place in Japan as a foreigner, I never expected to feel out of place in my own country. It was in Indiana that I learned what is was like to be a real minority—a person of color. I was often mistaken for an international student from Asia. I had racial slurs thrown at me and experienced new levels of discrimination.
Feeling lost, I sought comfort in the University’s Asian Cultural Center, the ACC. It was at the ACC that I found a sense of community I never felt I needed growing up in the Bay Area. At the Asian Culture Center, I took a job as a program assistant to help facilitate conversations on AAPI identity and explore the rich cultural heritage of our diverse communities. I had the opportunity to mentor Asian American students, many of whom had never met another Asian outside of their family until they went to college. Many of the students I had mentored just wanted to be an “American”—to not be different from their white peers. Many had been discriminated (against) and teased so much for being Asian that they shunned their Asian culture. Their life experiences growing up in the midwest were so different from mine. I had taken growing up in the diverse Bay Area for granted. Hearing their stories broke my heart. I couldn’t believe in this day and age, discrimination was alive and well in the U.S.
“Armed with the knowledge I’d gained from graduate school and working abroad and in Washington, DC, I decided it was time for me to apply the lessons I learned as an outsider and lift up the voices of those who felt voiceless.”
It was in Bloomington that I decided to change my career path from international relations to public policy because no one should endure the discrimination I faced in Indiana. That decision led me to a one-year fellowship working for a Member of Congress on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC.
Though DC is a bustling metropolis, there were still relatively few people of color, let alone AAPIs, in Congress either as elected officials or staff. Yet again I could not help but notice that I was an outsider. It was in D.C. that I learned how to advocate for the causes I cared about and the importance of building coalitions. I found strength in working with other staff members of color and learning from their experiences on the Hill.
Armed with the knowledge I’d gained from graduate school and working abroad and in Washington, DC, I decided it was time for me to apply the lessons I learned as an outsider and lift up the voices of those who felt voiceless. After a few years serving on the boards of community-based organizations, I decided to run for elected office. I realized I had experiences and viewpoints that were not being represented in local government as a young professional woman of color. In 2012, I became the first Filipina to serve on the San Jose-Evergreen Community College District Board of Trustees.
When I joined the Board of Trustees, I found myself in the familiar position as an outsider. I brought the average age on my Board by at least 15 years. Some of my board colleagues were quick to dismiss me because they assumed I was the student trustee and didn’t know anything since I didn’t have as much life experience as them. But in fact, my lived experiences as a young professional woman of color more closely align with the experiences of my students, who are typically female and from immigrant families. I worked hard to learn my role and to build trust with my colleagues. In the 12 years I have served on the Board, I have championed policies on equity and student success.
Embracing my “other-ness” has informed my personal journey and led to experiences I never thought imaginable. Once I recognized that the things that make me different are really my strengths, I learned to break past the “perpetual foreigner” stereotype and take up the space I so rightly deserve.
This nail will not be hammered down.
Wendy Ho, MPA, is an ALF Senior Fellow from Class XL. She is a community advocate and civic leader with over 15 years of experience working on public policy at the local, state, and federal levels. Currently, Wendy serves as Chief of Staff to Santa Clara County Supervisor Otto Lee and previously as Chief Strategy and Policy Officer for the Silicon Valley Council of Nonprofits. Wendy has also served on the San Jose-Evergreen Community College District Board of Trustees since 2012.
About Making Waves | AAPI Voices
This article is part of the Making Waves – AAPI Voices project by ALF Silicon Valley’s AAPI Caucus. Through an ongoing series of letters and other forms of creative expression by ALF Senior Fellow guest contributors, we aim to share the experiences of Asian Americans & Pacific Islanders (AAPIs) with the broader ALF network. We are proud of AAPIs’ contributions to our multiracial society and believe we can help strengthen our community and democracy by sharing our stories to build understanding and solidarity.
View all current contributions to this series here.
The title of this project, Making Waves – AAPI Voices, is inspired by the book Making Waves, An Anthology of Writings By and About Asian American Women. We thank editor Dr. Elaine Kim and Asian Women United of California for their groundbreaking work and permission to use the title.
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