The Asian Minority Myth Ruined Me

By GAbby Valdez

Image Source: mghclaycenter.org

There were two choices of what kind of  “Asian” you want to be in a suburban, white, town. You either embrace your Asian heritage, play into the Asian stereotypes, or allow yourself to be white-washed, forget your heritage, and eventually, mock it. In my heart, I wasn’t either. My parents grew up in America- we didn’t speak Tagalog. Regardless, I felt a deep, prideful connection to my heritage, and didn’t quite have the heart to disregard it. Growing up, I was never a good student. It was truly a success when I did just okay on a math test. Regardless of my studying, doing just okay was a dime a dozen. Despite my failure to succeed in school, my peers would go up to me, as early as elementary school, excited to be in my group, hoping I’d “carry them” to a good grade. When I failed to meet their expectations, they’d voice it, 

“Gabby, I expected a better grade!”

 But why? Why would they expect a better grade from someone they didn’t really know (and let me add, someone who didn’t do well in school)? Keep in mind, these were kids - no more than 13. Their perception of the world was formulated by cartoons, their parents. The Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media, the Coalition of Asian Pacifics in Entertainment and Gold House ran a study in 2019, that almost half of all Asian roles serve as a punchline with “Thirty-five percent of the characters studied fall into tropes or stereotypes like the model minority, which portrays Asian Americans as inherently nerdy and hardworking.” With children consuming media like this, they’re bound to develop an implicit bias- The Asian minority myth was ingrained into their teeny, tiny brains without them even knowing.

In American history, Asians have been used as an attempt to “prove” that other races can accomplish success in American society- We can be good in school, have successful careers, don’t complain, we’re totally fine and totally content. And technically, this is a “good” stereotype, right? While this is true, let’s think back to how little Gabby felt, unable to live up to the expectations of not only her peers but her parents and society. 

One of my strongest memories was the last day of elementary school. During our end-of-year ceremony, our report cards were nestled under our seat, like a final parting gift. When the ceremony closed to an end, me and my classmates ripped open the yellow manila envelope. I looked down at my grades, disappointed, feeling ashamed that I couldn’t succeed, no matter how hard I tried. I cried into my elementary teachers arms, knowing that I hadn’t only failed myself, but failed my parents, my teachers, and most importantly, my peers. Eventually, the pain of not being able to live up to everyone’s expectations became crippling. Not just in an ordinary, “we expect more from you” way, but in a deep-rooted, painful anxiety of failure…of seeming like a failure. I just wanted to fit into the Asian minority myth, I mean who doesn’t want to be smart and wanted? 

When things started to heat up (from the end of middle school onwards). I started to lie to everyone about my grades. I purposely signed up for accelerated classes, hoping I could prove to my peers that I was good enough. When my classmates asked what grade I got, I would hide my exam (folding it into two), and, once again, lie. While I convinced everyone that I was doing better, I was failing school. I continued to fail without seeking help, the idea of going to college was disappearing. I knew that when college decisions rolled around and I didn’t go to a school that matched my faux grades, everyone would know the truth…my biggest fear. 

High school was miserable. 

It wasn’t miserable in an obvious way, instead, the grief of failure forever stewed in me, developing into a little ball of anxiety at the bottom of my stomach.

Keeping up the facade ruined me.  To this day, I have a warped sense of self. I constantly question myself when I succeed…imposter syndrome lives inside me permanently. But when I fail, I feel like that little girl again, feeling like everyone expects more from me and I’m disappointing them. Even as an adult, allowing myself to accept failure is difficult. Imagine being a child, with a whole stereotype, telling you you have to be perfect, better than the rest, when you’re simply…not.

And that ruined me.