#VeryAsian, One Year Later

If you asked me a year ago what I thought I’d be working on this time of year, the last thing I would have said was running a foundation and amplifying more Asian experiences. But as I write this, that’s exactly what I’m doing, thanks to a viral whirlwind I encountered on New Year’s Day 2022.

In case you missed the #veryasian movement, I’ll try to sum it up: I work as a news anchor in St. Louis, and did a short segment on what Americans eat for the holiday and reasons why. I ended by mentioning that my personal tradition is to eat dumpling soup on New Year’s Day. I didn’t even call the soup it’s real name: tteok guk. And as Koreans will tell you, the tteok, or rice cakes, are what make this savory soup so delicious. The dumplings are a personal add-on. Calling my holiday dish “dumpling soup” was a very watered-down version for the masses.

I wish I could say there was more to the story, but that was it (likely why what happened next caused such outrage around the world).

A viewer then left a message on our stationwide voicemail complaining that I was “very Asian,” and that I needed to keep my Korean to myself. She said, with unabashed confidence, that white people would be fired if they talked about what they ate for the holidays and ended the call with, “It was annoying…so just talk about what white people eat.” Her rant was double the length of the actual news segment.

The audacity of her complaint seemed laughable, but it also stung.

The audacity of her complaint seemed laughable, but it also stung. Asians around the world had grown tired of being discriminated against and brutalized during the pandemic, and her words piled on this idea that we are foreigners in our own lands, even after generations of being raised on U.S. soil.

I shared her rant on social media, and it immediately went viral. This American tale of racism reached people across the globe. My friend and fellow journalist Gia Vang shared on social media her holiday Hmong food traditions and used the hashtag #veryasian. Her actions led to a fundraiser for the Asian American Journalists Association with a merchandise pop-up.

We sold thousands of shirts and hats with the words “Very Asian” to people in places like Holland, Germany, Australia, the United Kingdom, Korea, Switzerland, and Canada. People from all over the country—from the Bronx to Los Angeles, Minneapolis and St. Louis—were placing orders.

Using #veryasian as a rallying cry served as a reminder of the work we all do every day, in each of our communities, without any acknowledgment or recognition. The difference is that I had the chance to meet a moment (you can see more about it here, on JoySauce).

Thankfully, many of you chose to meet this moment with me. 

I wrote a commentary about why we, as Asians and Americans, deserve to bring our full humanity to our spaces. I ended by calling the voicemail a gift.

And that’s when Ellen called. Like, the Ellen Degeneres.

Her team flew me out days later, and at the end of our segment, she presented another gift—a  check for $15,000 that became the seed money to launch the Very Asian Foundation. We were able to make the announcement of the organization the day the episode aired.

Since sparking a global moment of unity together, we’ve been sprinting ever since to celebrate who we are through non-stop advocacy and celebration. No apologies.

Mentally exhausted from being invisible in their classes and hypervisible in their communities, many shared deeply personal mental health stories, including suicide ideation.

Days after the Ellen episode aired, we began working with high school students who told us their schools ignored their requests to add more Asian American youth literature during Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. Mentally exhausted from being invisible in their classes and hypervisible in their communities, many shared deeply personal mental health stories, including suicide ideation.

We launched The May Book Project to ensure they’d feel supported by the following heritage month. National scholars and groups like the Asian Pacific American Librarians Association, Asian Authors Alliance, and We Need Diverse Books created a vetted book list with an extensive toolkit to help libraries be more inclusive. The Very Asian Foundation also raised money to provide at-need libraries free books in California, Georgia, Illinois, Minnesota, Missouri, North Carolina, Washington, and Wisconsin.

We held more than 100 Very Asian x Very American panels, mixers, or media events for universities and corporations across the country. We amplified and hired Asian American graphic designers, illustrators, artists, and small businesses like Yu&Me Bookstore in New York City and Lucky Envelope Brewery in Seattle. In July, we held our first Very Asian week in Madison, Wisconsin, and we supported other charitable organizations like The Asian American Foundation (TAAF), the Asian American Journalists Association (AAJA), Stop AAPI Hate, the Korean American Adoptee Adoptive Family Network (KAAN), and AAPI Montclair through fundraising, speaking, or lending our journalistic expertise.

It’s hard to comprehend what we’ve been able to accomplish together in the last 12 months because it has been such a mad dash. There were times I’d get up at 3 a.m. to anchor the morning show, then hop on a plane to spend 22 hours on a coast, and return with just enough time to wake up for my next news shift. Bouts of mom guilt, hair loss, disappointing loved ones, and worrying about missing important day job deadlines presented challenges I’m still trying to figure out. Ultimately, I couldn’t do it without the support of my husband, the foundation’s executive board, and my news managers. Everyone is pulling more than their weight, and at times, the lift is heavy.

Moving forward, our focus will remain on narrative change, so that our experiences are told with accuracy, fairness, and intellect. In the United States, that means reinforcing that our stories are American regardless if we walk through life as adoptees, refugees, immigrants or with multiracial backgrounds. Our history is not political fodder for school boards, it is truth that deserves to see the light. When you take on the perspective of righting a wrong, it becomes less about race baiting or politics and more about simply telling the truth. And frankly, more truth telling needs to happen in all the places we live, whether it’s from a rural pocket of America or a large metropolitan city on a coast.

When you take on the perspective of righting a wrong, it becomes less about race baiting or politics and more about simply telling the truth.

It would be wonderful if we could work our foundation out of existence, but for now, we’re planning a jam-packed 2023 to continue growing into a sustainable organization. Our next project will launch this coming year with the formation of a microgrant program designed to serve underrepresented creators within our Very Asian diaspora. It’s an effort I appreciate as a Korean adoptee.

And while 2022 started with an incredible gift, I want to make sure it is one that keeps on giving. 

In my first year as a nonprofit co-founder, I’ve learned how overlooked and underindexed the Asian American community has been for decades. I now encourage people to start with asking for an affinity group or a DEI task force that does not put the burden on BIPOC workers alone. Ask your company to support a community effort or organization. I’ve witnessed many large corporations just now launching employee resource groups, so now’s the chance to ask for dollar amounts that create actionable change. I can think of one foundation in particular that needs support.

So as we look ahead to another #veryasian year, let’s cheers to our own prosperity. We can bring more peace in our lives through collective advocacy and solidarity. And at the very least, I hope 2023 brings more joy and countless reasons to eat dumplings.