Where are all the Asian American activists?
In response to the recent ICE raids, we have to ask: Why are so many Asians—especially the influencers—staying quiet?
People rally to protest President Trump's actions during the No Kings nationwide movement.
Matt Gush / Shutterstock.com
Words by Nathan Ramos-Park
On June 8, I posted a semi-flippant, half-baked video to my Instagram shouting, “Where are all the Asians?” into the void. It was specifically in response to what’s happening right now in Los Angeles: ICE raids targeting mostly Latinx communities, and the somewhat muted response from large parts of the Asian American community—but specifically influencers.
I asked, “where are you?” but I want to actually dive into “WHY are we?”
Asian Americans have been part of the United States for centuries. The first Filipinos landed in California in 1587. By the 1700s, Filipinos had established fishing villages in Louisiana. Chinese laborers came in the 1800s to build railroads under brutal and deadly conditions, and their humanity was thwarted by the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, the first U.S. law to ban a specific ethnic group from entering the country.
During World War II, Japanese Americans were sent to concentration camps. And in many cases, if and when they returned, it was to discover that their homes, land, and businesses were stolen from them. It’s giving perpetual generational trauma. The U.S. government not only criminalized Asian Americans, but has made it clear that we did not belong back then and do not belong now.
This in turn has shaped how entire communities respond to power that continually practices oppression (including the castration of Filipino men, the destruction of Chinatowns along the California coast, etc.) And that response was: Keep your head down. Be quiet. Work hard. Assimilate.
When the COVID-19 pandemic hit and anti-Asian violence spiked exponentially, so many Asian Americans were caught off guard—taken aback. Being Asian American is not a monolith. Some of us were used to this treatment, while others were paralyzed in shock, and our community found our voice.
However, many spoke only because it was specifically happening to us. And now, as ICE cracks down on undocumented communities (especially in Latinx neighborhoods in LA) we’re watching another wave of silence creep back in—especially from those with the most privilege, power, and visible platforms. And yes I asked, “Where are all the Asians?” But as someone who is half East Asian and half Southeast Asian, I want to say that not all Asians have been silent.
Southeast Asian communities—including Cambodian, Vietnamese, Filipino, Hmong, and Laotian folks—have been boots on the ground, in part because our relationships to state violence, deportation, and poverty are not dissimilar to our Latinx siblings. We are often organizing, protesting, and involved with mutual aid efforts.
Many Southeast Asians arrive here not chasing the American Dream, but often after running from the effects of American imperialism. For many Southeast Asian communities, speaking up isn’t optional. It’s survival.
Many East Asian enclaves (and I say this as a member of these communities) are indoctrinated into the model minority myth: That we are an exception, that we can aspire to white adjacency, that we could perhaps one day belong. However, this myth was in fact meant to divide us from other communities of color, especially Black and brown folks. And the payment for our hopeful aspirations is often silence and apathy, in return for a false sense of safety. But this myth is exactly that—an intangible myth. It offers no real tangible protections, often shaming the struggles of our communities, while ignoring the unfair scaffolding of the system.
So I guess if I were to make that video again and not be a mean gay b*tch, I would say a couple things:
- Use your platform—people look up to you, and your silence gives others the permission to be silent or to disregard the very real things being enacted against us and other marginalized peoples.
- Support organizations working hard with amplification and monetary donations if you are able.
- Attend protests if able, and build and connect to community.
- Learn our history—how the railroads were built, what segregative oriental schools were, how Filipinos were seen as savages, and how the United States illegally stole Hawaii, and more.
- Call people in (I admit, what I did before was a call out) and continue to coalition build. We are all stronger together.
In the end, silence gives this illusion of safety—if I stay quiet, this too shall pass. However, to be silent is to be complicit. What is happening in LA is reflective of an even larger fight. We don’t get to opt out just because we think we’re not directly affected. Because spoiler alert, we are, and we will be next if we don’t stand up for each other now.
So when I asked, “Where are all the Asians?” I understood deeply where we all are, and I’m excited for us all to be here, together.
Published on June 27, 2025
Words by Nathan Ramos-Park
Nathan Ramos-Park is a half-Filipino, half-Korean gaysian writer, performer, and recovering competitive jump roper from Ohio. He’s developed and staffed at Amazon, Netflix, Disney, Sony, and more, blending his love of comedy, genre, music, and coming-of-age stories. A former actor (Off-Broadway/CBS Showcase) and award-winning New York bartender, he’s also a Webby and Queerty nominee. His Amazon rom-com Five Blind Dates was adapted into Picture This, starring Simone Ashley, which spent six weeks on top of the Prime charts, and he’s amassed more than 75,000 followers on social media across all platforms in the last three months @nathanramospark.