Anti-Asian racism is very real, and it will not be solved with an opulent rom-com or Marvel superhero, but with you - the bystanders - acknowledging the validity of our pain.
Simu LiuRead
There is something missing in Asian America. They're missing people to tell them, 'It's okay to be who you are - you belong. Just be unapologetically you; you're not less than anybody else.'
Interpretation
This quote emphasizes the importance of self-acceptance and belonging, particularly for Asian Americans.
Simu Liu expresses a deep concern for the Asian American community, highlighting the lack of affirmation and support that individuals from this background often feel. He encourages people to embrace their true selves without apology, reinforcing the idea that they deserve to belong and are equal to anyone else. This message serves as a reminder of the importance of representation and acceptance in fostering confidence and community.
In practice
During a cultural festival, a speaker could use this quote to inspire unity and acceptance among attendees.
Anti-Asian racism is very real, and it will not be solved with an opulent rom-com or Marvel superhero, but with you - the bystanders - acknowledging the validity of our pain.
It's hard enough to celebrate being Asian in normal times. But now, when the whole world is kind of coming down, with all this rhetoric and people getting attacked on the street, you really need to deliberately try to celebrate Asian-ness.
I realized, if I don't step into the spotlight, and the person next to me doesn't step in, and the people around me don't step in, then who will?
If it's true that I wouldn't have had a career if it weren't for these conversations about diversity, the importance of representation, then I need to continue to fight that battle for the people that come after me.
The first time I tried on Shang-Chi's superhero suit - Marvel has never had an Asian lead, so that was such a rare and impactful moment, for me as an actor but also for people who look like me. I nearly cried. It was so emotional.
I've often felt like an outsider, not necessarily because I'm Korean, an immigrant, or female. I think writers are odd people.
I think I'm ridiculously fortunate. I consider myself a Nigerian - that's home; my sensibility is Nigerian. But I like America, and I like that I can spend time in America.
I always understood my ancestry, like that of so many others in the Gulf Coast, to be a tangle of African slaves, free men of color, French and Spanish immigrants, British colonists, Native Americans - but in what proportion, and what might that proportion tell me about who I thought I was?
In America, I'm a foreigner because of my Korean heritage. In Asia, because I was born in America, I'm a foreigner. I'm always a foreigner.
I never learned how to be adequately black. I never learned how to be black at all.
I remember, as a child, lying in my bed at night praying that I would wake up the next day and be a girl, to be my authentic self, and to just have my family be proud of me. I remember looking into the mirror struggling to say just two words, 'I'm transgender.'
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