The Ithacan

Year after year of math classes, many of my Asian-American classmates would ace their math tests while I hoped for a B-minus or better.

One day, one of my white teammates stated frustratingly, “It doesn’t make sense. You should be better at this.” This stopped me in my tracks.

The Asian-American vote is the lowest among the major racial and ethnic groups, which leaves many people asking why.

Black women and their art, when analyzed, are first criticized and then consciously studied, while black men have the privilege to first be studied and then critiqued.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard someone say they “looked Asian” when they looked like they were squinting in pictures.

Though the notion of colorism is not talked about as often in the western world, ideas of beauty and femininity have been directed by a European mindset for centuries.

This spring break, I was a tourist in New York City. It was my fourth or fifth time there, but only my first time with an uncomfortable experience.

Until we allow spaces for people of color to portray and represent a vast number of narratives, we are crippling the ability of American media to touch lives and create effective change.

No, my name doesn’t match my face, and it doesn’t mean you can make assumptions about my background.

I can’t describe the discomfort that goes through my body whenever men — mostly white men — tell me they exclusively date Asian women.

The white U.S. identity would have nothing without the populations they are still standing upon.

I’ve got an arsenal of airplane and airport mishap stories: Some are hilarious, others are unfortunate, and a select few leave you thinking, “Are you kidding me?”