Evolution
Jo is an adopted Chinese 21-year-old who is no stranger to racism. Her story is about struggling to feel enough in a world of expectations.
Jo's Story
Part of the issue is that people don’t know Asian American history. I wish I didn’t have to explain to people about the poor working conditions of Chinese railroad workers or how we’ve been abused over time. But since you’re here, I guess I’ll tell you a bit…
1882: Chinese people were banned from entering the United States.
1917: Immigration law created the Asiatic Barred Zone, banning immigration from all of Asia and Middle East, except Japan and Philippines.
1942: Japanese people in America were forced into incarceration camps.
1982: Vincent Chin was beaten to death by white auto workers in Highland Park, Michigan.
2002: Balbir Singh Sodhi killed in the aftermath of 9/11 attacks.
2021: Six Asian women killed in Atlanta spa massacre.
Given all of this and what I went through as a kid, I had grown to expect it. It wasn’t shocking in any way to me. Racism, and all that. It really sucks. But if you set yourself up to be disappointed by people, when they do disappointing things, it’s not as bad.
In 2020 when the pandemic started and all the racist stuff was said by Trump, I wasn’t surprised that this country sucked and that people in this country sucked. Growing up in conservative Minnesota, I’ve seen people be racist to me since I was little. Even as an adult, I saw my former 6th grade teacher post about how she thinks Asian people are responsible for COVID. Wow, at least I didn’t hold her up on a pedestal! I don’t need to idolize any white people anymore. It’s clear that we are still a minority. We’re still discriminated against. We’re still oppressed as a whole.
I couldn’t go to protests and all that because I was high risk for COVID and then moved back home. Instead, I got an internship with the Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party logging and tracking donations. I felt like I was finally doing something. My job was pretty minor in the grand scheme of things, but for some reason, it felt like everything depended on me. Even on a national and statewide level, I felt responsible for everything going wrong in politics. Perhaps it was because of how much Asians were getting blamed for the pandemic or getting trashed in the media. But maybe if I had just worked harder, things wouldn’t be so bad.
Despite my best efforts, my work wasn’t enough. It was almost like I wasn’t enough. I felt bad about being Asian American. No matter what I did, it was a lose-lose situation. If I was passive like America had taught me to be, things in society and politics would have continued to be bad. If I tried to take action and things didn’t change, then I was a failure. Unfortunately, the American immigration system and the American Dream taught me that Asian Americans need to be passive in order to be successful. No one wanted to hear what I actually had to say, so being complacent was the best thing an Asian American could do. Complacency didn’t feel like a good option to me, but neither did the feeling that America’s problems were all my fault.
Over time, I got burnt out from working for political organizations. I took a break, did other things, and grew up a bit as a person. I began to be more understanding of others. I saw other Asian American students doing mutual aid and being allies during the pandemic and after the murder of George Floyd. To be honest, it made me pretty proud. People in my community were doing things to help make a change, and I was impressed how Asian Americans at school were trying to actually be allies. Like, wow, go us! Even if I didn’t see it happening, people were doing their own thing for racial justice. We were out there doing the work, and it was making a difference. Turns out that Asian Americans have a history of doing that sort of thing…
1968-1969: The first ethnic studies program is founded in the United States as a result of the Third World Liberation Front at San Francisco State College.
2008: Asian American and Native American Pacific Islander-Serving Institution federal designation program signed into law.
2020: Stop AAPI Hate Reporting Center is established by Asian American faculty, graduate students, and community organizers.
2021: College students in the Intercollegiate APIDA Coalition demand race-centered resources and ethnic studies at major universities.
About Jo
For four years of her life, Jo lived with her foster family in China. They cared about her, which was rare at the time, given that young girls in the Chinese adoption system were often shuffled between different homes for profit. Upon hearing that Jo was getting adopted, her foster family wrote notes with their names and contact info and hid them in her shoes and stuffed animals for safe keeping. At 5 years old, Jo was adopted into her new family of two white, conservative, evangelical Christian parents from Rochester, Minnesota.
Jo’s adopted parents didn’t see color. It was like Jo’s experiences didn’t matter to them, like her “Asianness” was only relevant when something exotic or foreign came around.
“You should go say hi to them in Chinese,” her mom said once when Asian neighbors moved in across the street. They didn’t understand how to raise someone whose race was different from theirs. They didn’t understand that bringing Jo to America would dramatically change how she interacted with the world around her.
At her very small, very white private school, Jo didn’t have many friends. At the time, she didn’t realize why people didn’t seem to like her. She didn’t realize other people thought of her differently, probably because of her race. At least she had her one friend, Lane, who was Korean-American. Lane was nonbinary; Jo was adopted. Though they didn’t have words for it at the time, they both felt misunderstood by their families and became close.
After eighth grade, Lane transferred schools. Jo talked to her parents about transferring too, but they said no despite her concerns about not fitting in and having no friends. As much as Jo tried to please others and fit in, her classmates still didn’t like her. In eleventh grade, Jo transferred to public school. There were more people of color at this school, including people who were Asian and adopted. The students were also more radical in their thinking; they were deliberately conscious of social issues and believed in a freer world. They had confidence in themselves and their beliefs in a way that Jo wanted to be. For the first time, she started thinking about race more for herself. She began to realize that race affected every part of her life. Jo became more radical in her beliefs and was craving to know more.
In college, Jo tried really hard to fit in. As hard as she tried, other business school students didn’t understand her and didn’t seem to care. No one really noticed when she arrived or left. The business school was statistically not very diverse, and Jo was constantly explaining herself as a prerequisite for her existence. It was exhausting.
Aching to try something new, Jo joined the Organization of Chinese American Students. She found people she connected with, and eventually took on leadership roles within the club. In her second year, Jo also interviewed to be a mentor at the Asian cultural center. During the interview, the assistant director asked, “Have you ever thought about being a student coordinator? It’s a paid position. You’d be helping administer the program instead of just being a leader or participant.” The invitation was startling to Jo. Being adopted and East Asian, she didn’t think she was the target demographic for a school that had mostly Southeast Asian students. She felt so privileged as a Chinese American and privileged because of her white parents. They had never experienced racism like everyone else’s immigrant parents, and she did not grow up like everyone else. The assistant director pressed, “You know, your experience is just as valid of an Asian American experience as anyone else here.” After a lot of encouragement, Jo accepted the position.
In conversations with other Asian students about family or growing up, Jo would just listen. She couldn’t relate, but she could validate them. In doing so, Jo received validation in return. The Asian American space began to feel like somewhere she belonged, somewhere she deserved to be. She stopped caring about what people thought about her because she understood herself. It was refreshing, like she was coming into her final evolution.
Coming into her fully evolved form, Jo sought community with other Asian Americans. It felt comfortable and good. After graduating with a degree in management and Chinese, Jo looks forward to moving to the East Coast, finding a larger Asian community in a more diverse city, and getting involved in local politics.
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