The intersection of leadership and identity
Heightened awareness around the experience of the AAPI+ community is a hugely important moment for our culture as a whole. I think about the lives lost three weeks ago, and for the years and generations before that have suffered in silence and I’m left in the unusual position of being speechless. I also know that much of my life and career has been about barreling forward and breaking stereotypes and fighting to be the exception to the rule. Not just for myself, but for those who came before me and those who will come after.
Being an AAPI+ leader today is more difficult than I can quite put into words. Like many BIPOC leaders, there’s a constant vacillation between trying to do the right thing by your business and then taking a moment to think about yourself and processing your own experience and trauma within all this. I’m hyper aware of centering myself in conversations (and avoiding that at all costs), but I realize that my “self” and identity also are representative of others in my sphere. But it’s truly more difficult than I ever imagined.
There is a lot of guilt that comes with this time. Growing up seeing your own parents sacrifice literally everything for your existence and a chance at a better life. I often am reminded of their stories of getting “annual raises” that were cents per hour changes vs. what we commonly see in white-collar American work culture. The desire to simply put their heads down and keep working because they’re trying to keep their eye on the bigger picture — often simply giving your kids a better life. So there’s guilt that sits deep in my heart that anything I have to endure today is nothing in comparison to what my parents had to coming to this country (or Canada in my case). Or my grandparents even back in their motherland. My life is that of privilege — whilst not perfect, it is still what they dreamed for me. And it’s a responsibility and honor I take very seriously.
There are a lot of dimensions of being an intersectional AAPI+ leader during this time. Dealing with your personal histories and grappling with that. Gratitude you have for the position and space you’re given. Dealing with your own imperfections as a human being. The responsibility to try and make things better, but the heavy reality that there are a lot of things that have happened that you can’t control and you focus on a better future. And making it better for all parties. You hear the traumas of others and it breaks you down piece by piece. How do you fix the future? How do you ensure it doesn’t happen again? You end up feeling responsible for things that have nothing to do with the decisions you made or could have made. Truthfully, you end up owning the guilt that white folks should feel but instead are bestowed upon you. It’s the gift you never wanted.
Through the many movements we’ve been through in recent history, our AAPI+ community (or communitieS as Jezz Chung so eloquently described) has rarely come together in a cohesive way — because within the community itself, we represent so many different nuanced cultures and experiences. We’re still learning how to congregate, define what our objectives are as a community, how we show up and how we activate — we’re still all very new at this. There’s the intersectionality that then layers on — Asian women and their unique experience. I also carry the experience of being a Muslim Asian woman, which layers in another element to your relationship with America and the American experience. Decades of islamophobia and having a name that gives away my identity is something that’s weighed heavy on just life in general, let alone trying to ascend the ranks where most people have quite simple last names to pronounce.
Like many female BIPOC leaders, I’ve had plenty of experience being harassed and gaslit by peers and bosses. I’ve also had really incredible peers and bosses who have helped and lifted me to get to where I am today. It’s the yin and yang of the human experience. While I’m in a healthy place now for me, 5–10 years ago what was “acceptable” was so very different. And I’m very thankful for these shifts. I’m grateful to be in a space now which is imperfect, but aware and consciously moving together towards a better future. When the #MeToo movement hit, I felt all the pain that women had felt but for one reason or another it never felt like “my” fight. While yes, I joined the Wing, donned my apparel and tried to fit in - I never quite did. I wasn’t quite a girlboss. I was destined to be the token BIPOC woman in the sea of white feminism in that space and it never quite sat right. The part of my identity I’ve most connected with is my first generation AAPI immigrant identity — yes, I am certainly a woman in business, that has always been a layer to the foundation of my first generation immigrant upbringing. It was intrinsically linked to my work ethic, drive and generally how I look at the world.
I’ve also encountered misogyny and straight up racism. I’ve had to endure former colleagues harass and ridicule me as I ascended the ranks, trying everything in their power to destroy me as not only a professional but as a person. I’ve quietly just let it go, because I always had the belief that the sheer velocity of my work ethic and kind of person I am would propel me forward. For the most part, that’s been correct given the position I find myself in today. But does that take any of that trauma away? Nope.
I had to choose my fighter at the time. Every time. Did I make all the right choices along the way? Absolutely not. Have I been called every name in the book? Have I had a person lunge at me and grab my arm that I wasn’t listening to his satisfaction? Have I been called *repeatedly* “Beth” in a meeting by a potential client and the same person refuses to shake my hand as they did everyone else in the room, but instead deeply bows at me? (I’m still confused about that one tbh) Do I still fear retaliation for words I utter because I’m deemed too aggressive / assertive? Do I fear people want to actually physically harm me for not only who I am but what I have accomplished in my life? The answer is yes. To all of these.
When I accepted the role of CEO the biggest hesitancy wasn’t in the job, the responsibility, the sheer terror of an entire industry in flux — but literally “how will I be attacked?” Emotionally, physically, professionally. I’ve spent the last near two years being hyper vigilant and aware of the need to protect myself — truthfully, I’m exhausted. I realized recently that my gas tank was way below empty. We’re also trying to survive a global pandemic. I say this today, not for sympathy or for anyone to actually care about what a CEO has to go through, but I do feel like it’s important for people to understand what it’s meant to different kinds of leaders today. It’s a story a lot of us just can’t / won’t/ don’t ever have enough time to tell.
Have I said anything about this previously? Rarely. Mostly because of my extreme leaning towards practicality and desire to focus on the future. To try and forge a better future. I realize that there is also power in acknowledging the truths that got me here. Doesn’t make it easier, but it is just my truth.
