Where is my mirror?
When I was a little girl, I would often get asked,
‘What do you want to be when you grow up Ah-Mei?’
‘You can be a doctor, a lawyer, a scientist!’
(Ah-Mei was a pet name that everyone called me. Translated, it means ‘little sister’, but everyone called me that – I was not anyone’s little sister).
Early on, I would ponder on this question.
What DO I want to be when I grow up?
What things could I see myself doing?
What jobs did girls like me do, when they grew up?
This was problematic to start with, as I couldn’t see anyone, who was like me, doing any of the things I was told to aspire to. I did not see Asian female lawyers, or scientists or doctors. I did not see Asian female teachers. I did not see Asian female actresses on TV. I was confused. Please allow me to explain further.
Growing up in Australia in the 80’s and 90’s, Asians made up most of the migrant population in Melbourne. I read somewhere (ok, I Googled) that the largest population of Cambodians (of which makes up about 50% of me) outside of Cambodia, reside in Melbourne, Australia.
What I experienced growing up in my home felt completely normal to me. Surely everyone used chopsticks, took their shoes off at the door and ate chicken feet. I only began to feel different when I started looking outside of my own world.
And what a world it was. I mean, Vegemite! Knives and forks! No mandatory music lessons and maths tutoring! People are actually talking at the dinner table!
I found things very different. Looking back now, I remember watching Neighbours and Home and Away and thinking, ‘So this is what normal is’. This is how we are ‘supposed’ to live and how I live at home is ‘not normal’. What alternative conclusion could I arrive at?
I could not see myself or anyone like me in any position of privilege or power. Asian women were represented in the media and in movies as either prostitutes (“Love you long time!” - thanks Full Metal Jacket), domestic help, brainiac nerds or as kung fu fighting villains.
I didn’t have the words back then, but I have the words now. I needed to see myself represented. I didn’t know I was capable of becoming anything I wanted to be, because I didn’t see anyone else like me, out there. There was no mirror for me to look up to, to aspire to become. I couldn’t see and in turn, didn’t feel seen.
It's not that I didn’t care about authentic Asian representation, but I didn’t think it was a possibility. Up until now. I did not know it was possible to be an Asian female, have a voice and hold power. It was, and to a certain degree still is, such a foreign concept to me.
Seeing Asian women in the media (hello Melissa Leong and Sarah Davidson!) and meeting Asian coaches (oh my goodness - there are Asian coaches?!) has slowly, but surely chipped away at my invisibility cloak and allowed me to emerge as the person I want to be. You don’t know how good it feels to put down the persona of, “Asian female middle-manager in corporate”. I mean, it's technically still what I’m doing, but I’m working on that one.
So, what do I want to be when I grow up?
The question still looms large. At 42, I am still trying to work that one out. What I do know is, I want to be seen and I want to represent. No, I NEED to represent and show up and share my voice and my story, so that those who have felt like me, regardless of race, ethnicity, colour and identity can see that we are here. We are all here.
People are out there, waiting for me to show up and share my super power with the world. Just like I am here, waiting for you to show me yours. Stand up and be the mirror - you are needed and we are waiting.