
How are Asian American business owners weathering tariff turbulence?
Founders and experts share how they’re navigating rising costs, supply chain pressures, and anti-Asian sentiment to keep their heritage-centered brands alive
With Trump's proposed tariffs, Asian American business owners will have to decide whether to raise prices or take on the costs themselves.
Photo illustration by Ryan Quan
Words by Xintian Wang
As a child growing up northeast of Beijing, Lisa Li’s idea of wellness wasn’t wrapped in buzzwords or wellness apps—it was the simple act of sipping tea with her grandmother. Burnt out from more than a decade in the high-pressure fashion industry, she longed to return to that simplicity. A 2018 trip to Shangri-La, China rekindled that feeling—especially after tasting a rose tea so transportive it felt like stepping into a floral garden. That moment sparked a journey across Asia, with Li sampling more than 100 teas and ultimately founding The Qi, a brand selling whole-flower teas from family farms in China.

Lisa Li is the founder of The Qi, a wellness and healing brand that sells flower teas.
Courtesy of Lisa Li
Today, those same blooms that once brought her peace are caught in the crosshairs of geopolitics. On Feb. 1, President Donald Trump’s administration imposed sweeping tariffs—taxes on imported goods—on trade partners Canada, Mexico, and China. On April 2, Trump announced new tariffs aimed at reducing trade deficits and bolstering domestic manufacturing. These measures include a universal 10 percent tariff on all imports, which went into effect Saturday, with additional "reciprocal tariffs" targeting specific countries perceived as engaging in unfair trade practices.
For instance, China faces a 34 percent tariff, which—combined with pre-existing duties—results in an effective rate of 54 percent on Chinese imports. The European Union is subject to a 20 percent tariff, while Japan faces a 24 percent tariff, both of which went into effect Wednesday. These tariffs are purportedly calculated to mirror the barriers these nations impose on American goods, with the administration asserting that the rates aim to offset existing bilateral trade deficits. While the administration framed the move as a crackdown on illegal immigration and drugs, its ripple effects are hitting the consumer market hard.
For Asian American entrepreneurs—many of whom straddle the U.S.-Asia markets and rely on imported goods rooted in cultural heritage—this economic maneuver feels personal. “I’ve made the decision to absorb all added costs ourselves and not pass them on to our customers,” Li says. “It wasn’t easy. But maintaining the integrity and quality of our teas—and ensuring they remain accessible—is non-negotiable.”

Asian American-owned businesses like The Qi are forced to either raise their prices or take on the rising costs.
Courtesy of The Qi
Li is one of many small business owners feeling the weight of the new tariffs. From Chinatown grocers to herbal wellness brands alike, these imported goods carry cultural significance—not just commercial value. These days, preserving cultural heritage comes at a higher cost.
A new cost to culture
“Tariffs will hit small businesses the hardest, especially those with tight margins,” says Lizzi C. Lee, a fellow at the Asia Society Policy Institute’s Center for China Analysis. “Larger companies can pivot suppliers or negotiate better terms, but small businesses, particularly those run by AA+PI entrepreneurs, don’t have that same flexibility.”
Lee thinks businesses that import niche or culturally specific goods—such as traditional foods, textiles, or festival items—are especially vulnerable under the new tariffs, since these products often can’t be sourced within the United States. She notes that small business owners, particularly in Chinatowns and other immigrant neighborhoods, face a difficult tradeoff: either raise prices and risk losing loyal customers, or absorb the extra costs and further narrow already slim profit margins. In cities like San Francisco, New York, and Los Angeles, she says, neither option is truly sustainable.
For Elix, a holistic wellness brand rooted in 5,000 years of traditional Chinese medicine (TCM), founder Lulu Ge says the brunt of the tariff impact hasn’t hit the herbs themselves—yet—but the sustainable packaging they use, much of which is made in China. “China’s ability to manufacture sustainable packaging at scale has been key for small, mission-driven brands like ours,” Ge says. “Recently, one of our suppliers shared that the threat of tariffs is leading to ‘panic buying’ by large corporations stockpiling these materials. That’s driving up prices and tightening inventory, making it even harder for small businesses to compete.”
Founded on the idea of healing from the inside out, Elix blends Eastern wisdom with Western science to offer personalized herbal remedies. Many of its ingredients—like angelica sinensis and licorice root—are native to rural China, sourced for their purity and potency. For now, Ge is focused on resilience: maintaining supplier relationships, sharing knowledge with peers, and expanding online health services to offset rising costs. “Our mission has always been to empower people with effective, natural solutions,” she says. “That hasn’t changed, even as we navigate rising costs and a more divided cultural climate.”
Anxiety beyond the balance sheet
But for many Asian American business owners, these tariffs are more than a financial burden. “Economic anxiety has historically fueled xenophobia,” Lee says. “We’ve seen how political rhetoric can translate into real-world consequences—boycotts of Asian businesses, vandalism in ethnic enclaves, and an overall sense of exclusion.”
We’ve seen this story before—during COVID, during the Japanese American internment of WWII, and during the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. Today’s version may be subtler, but its toll is no less corrosive. In immigrant-rich neighborhoods like San Francisco’s Chinatown, tariffs risk pushing already-struggling shopkeepers over the edge.
Wellington Z. Chen, executive director of the Chinatown Partnership in New York, says the mood is growing tense. “The anxieties and economic damages caused by the uncertainties surrounding the tariffs are already exacting a huge toll on our psyche and community,” he says. “Businesses are forced to expend extra effort to stock up, tying up capital and resources that are already stretched thin.”
Community, not competition
And yet, in adversity, many Asian American entrepreneurs are finding strength in solidarity. Li believes tailored relief—grants, tax credits, advisory programs—could ease the burden. “It’s not simply about increased costs,” she says. “It’s about preserving the trust and authenticity that define our brands.”
Lee agrees and emphasizes the importance of clear, responsible messaging from policymakers. “Business and civic leaders have a role to play in visibly supporting AA+PI entrepreneurs, who have some of the highest rates of business ownership in the country and are deeply invested in the American economy,” she says. “Shifting the narrative from ‘us versus them’ to ‘we are all in this economy together’ can help counteract the risks of scapegoating.”
Published on April 10, 2025
Words by Xintian Wang
Xintian Tina Wang is a bilingual journalist covering cultural stereotypes and innovations, including gender and sexuality, arts, business, and technology. Her recent work appears in TIME, ARTNews, Huffpost, Teen Vogue, VICE, The Daily Beast, Inc. Magazine etc. She is also the board director for the Asian American Journalist Association (AAJA) New York Chapter. As a journalist of color and a visual storyteller, she is constantly speaking for cultural minority groups whose voices are buried in mainstream discourses. Her documentary Size 22 won the "Best Short Documentary" at the Boston Short Film Festival and an "Audience Award" at the New England Film Festival. Her photography work is featured in TIME, HuffPost, The Sunday Times, Air Mail, etc. Visit her website at www.xintianwang.net.
Art by Ryan Quan
Ryan Quan is the Social Media Editor for JoySauce. This queer, half-Chinese, half-Filipino writer and graphic designer loves everything related to music, creative nonfiction, and art. Based in Brooklyn, he spends most of his time dancing to hyperpop and accidentally falling asleep on the subway. Follow him on Instagram at @ryanquans.