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Identities: Hetero, Cis Woman, Asian, Pacific Islander


“I am a straight female who identifies as both Asian and Pacific Islander. At the beginning of the pandemic I felt anxious, especially when New York was at its peak. I lost a relative to the virus and it was scariest then. Everyone is scared of getting it or what could happen if they got it. I felt more anxious than my parents during this time. I’m naturally a homebody so I didn’t mind being at home during quarantine. My parents are worried, though they are more willing to go out, but I go because of their old age. I am very focused on practicing the correct protocol to minimize my exposure to any potential risk, while it's not necessarily at the forefront of their minds. My experience of the pandemic has been a lot luckier than some people. I don’t think I received any backlash or racism. The Black Lives Matter movement has also been prevalent in the lives of many people. I’ve been educating a parent on anti-racism and it’s going well. To cope with stress of what is happening around me, I am baking more. I also bought painting supplies a week ago and started painting. I morphed the thought of quarantine into having extra time to do things I enjoy.” (Aspen) (Pseudonym used at Interviewee’s Request) ...

Identities: Biracial Filipina/White, Queer, (Cis-)Female, and 2nd Generation.

CW: R*pe, Trauma

“I didn’t think being at my parent’s house during quarantine would affect me so deeply. I’m trying to forget what happened, but it’s become hard to focus. Hotlines have long waiting lines because of COVID, and I’m scared to speak to friends because it means that I have to face it too. I’m scared my family might hear me talking to them, and I don’t want their shame or judgment.

It’s been years since the actual event, but I’ve never stopped and created space for myself to understand what happened… I was r*ped when I was in high school, and seeing remnants of my old room where it happened and photos of them made me fall apart. It hurts more to know that this was someone I once considered my closest friend. They were always the one to be there for me and came up with dumb adventures to cheer me up. In retrospect, that all feels predatory.

It’s hard to explain why you don’t want to sit next to someone when they drink orange juice. How do you casually say, “My r*pist always smelled like oranges because it was their favorite scent, so the smell makes me feel sick.” But now, I really like the smell of oranges, and that feels like a big victory even if I still have panic attacks from triggers sometimes. I’m really proud of myself for being able to share this, because it’s my first step in a long overdue healing process.” (Anonymous) ...

Identities: 1.5 Gen, Chinese/Filipina, Cis Woman

“While I was growing up, I remember playing with this white butterfly, calling it “bei yah” in Hokkien. My mother is half Chinese and half Filipino, and my father is fully Chinese, but we all lived in the Philippines together. After moving to America, I would still see the white butterfly. I used to believe that the same one followed from the Philippines to where I live now. It was a sign of comfort and familiarity in what felt like a foreign place at the time.

I grew up in a predominantly rich, white area of NY. I used to envy the privileges many people had at school that I didn’t have as an immigrant— parents were incredibly involved in their education, helping them every step of the way to ensure that they got into good colleges. There was this expectation that everyone goes to a private school out of state. At the time, I was immature, and was upset with my parents for not helping me the same way. I was worried that I wouldn’t match up to my friends who got accepted into Ivy League schools after deciding to attend Hunter for my scholarship. My parents worked every day as nurses, and I ended up taking on more responsibility, figuring things out by myself, and learning important life skills. But, I know now that it’s important to be grateful for what you have and to work hard and be practical to achieve the things you want in life.” (Anonymous) ...

Identities: 2nd Gen, Muslim, Bengali, Cis Woman, Brooklyn

COVID has been a very tragic time for my family. We’ve lost family members, work, education, and opportunities. We’ve gone through two holidays (Eid) without the rest of our family. However, in the midst of it all, I am definitely grateful to have a home, to have food on the table, to have my family with me during this time. We were able to spend an entire month fasting in our homes during Ramadan, a time where we would often be scrambling to finish our finals and come back from school just in time for iftar (breaking fast). It was a time of reflection, and a blessing to be home during the holiest month in our year, and gave me a sense of peace in the craziness of this world. I have my own ways of coping, from resting more, spending longer times in prayer, disconnecting from social media, spending time with my family and friends, cooking, and trying to accomplish one task at a time instead of overwhelming myself. I hope this semester is a fulfilling one for all of us, one where we learn healthy habits and come out of with a greater appreciation of being in one’s company. (Anonymous) ...

Identities: 2nd Gen, Muslim, Bengali, Cis Woman, Brooklyn

As a second-generation Muslim Bengali woman, I am a proud member of the South Asian community from my neighborhood in Brooklyn. Our area has been especially hit by the pandemic, and it has taken a toll on my mental health in many ways. As our semester begins, I worry about the impact that COVID has had on my education and future career. In addition to learning how to navigate through an entire semester of online classes, I also think about how remote learning will have an impact on the quality of my education. I miss connecting with classmates and the exchange of ideas that are nurtured by being in a physical classroom. I miss being able to go out and visit with friends and those conversations that happen in between rushing to class. I also worry about the mental health of my parents, especially my father. At the height of COVID, his job came to a halt with no timeline of when he would be able to work again. I know that not working or being physically active took a toll on him. Losing friends and family during the pandemic was also rough. My dad will never discuss how he feels about it, perhaps because of how he was raised, as he never wanted to be vulnerable in front of us. Nevertheless, I often see his eyes wet after he finishes his daily prayers, tears from words he only shares whilst in prostration. The Bengali culture of his generation taught people to mask their emotions and minimize talk about mental health. It’s considered taboo to have such discussions and many believe it to not be constructive. Having been exposed to conversations about the importance of mental health, I now understand how they cope with their feelings, my dad spending hours fishing in solitude, to escape from his thoughts and relax his mind. (Anonymous) ...

Identities: Queens, Chinese American, heterosexual, Cis Woman

Living with the pandemic has taken a toll on my mental health. I live in Queens, at one time a very high-risk area, and even though conditions have improved, I still avoid going out.  When I do go out, it’s mostly for groceries, but otherwise I’m a hermit. Earlier in the pandemic my dad was laid off and for a while nobody in my family was employed.  Filing for unemployment was difficult, but eventually my dad started receiving his benefits.  To make matters worse, my sister and I think that both my parents came down with COVID, but were never tested. It was stressful to have them quarantine separately for two weeks. All of us were scared and it was an especially difficult time. The negative media coverage only made it worse, so for my own mental health I stopped watching tv.  I have also taken time to be alone in order to recollect my thoughts. Other ways I destress is by growing plants.

Ever since I was young, my dad and I have bonded over taking care of house plants. It started out with cactuses, but now I also take care of more complex plants. Recently I’ve been growing orchids. It takes a lot of patience to nurture them. Orchids need the right balance of light and water and even when you are doing everything right, it still takes time to bloom. Yet the wait is worth it because something beautiful results from it. I’ve had more time than ever to connect with my family and in some ways, while we are waiting for something to happen, we enjoy the anticipation and each other.   (Anonymous) ...

When you come from a low-income family that’s given up so much, and worked so hard, you see that every day. So, when you can’t do the same, you go harder on yourself. You invalidate yourself, and think you don’t deserve things. You have so many privileges like going to college. Who do you think you are, to want a gap semester? You don’t deserve a gap semester. You need to graduate because of what your parents did for you. This extra pressure has done remarkable things (like making sure I graduated college), but also it invalidates what I’m feeling. I don’t know how to take care of myself. I’m worried about what my parents are doing, and if what I’m doing lives up to their sacrifice. It’s a huge and very scary pressure. You can never be good enough for someone who gave up their whole life for you. You can never repay that. The one thing I can do is live happily and successfully. But, that’s such BS when you’re a child of immigrants, especially undocumented immigrants. Like be happy? So what? My parents are literally dying earlier than other parents, because they decided to come to America to work these back-breaking jobs. Why did you do that for me? I know why: you love me and want to give me good opportunities. But no matter what I do in life, I can never get you the time and health back. When I think about it for too long (sacrifices), it gets me back into my tunnel. I’m sitting in bed and thinking about what it is that they did for me and I’m like shit. Then I spiral and stay there for 2-3 days before becoming okay. 

If you don’t talk about it and don’t give people the vocabulary to understand what they’re feeling, they don’t know. I didn’t realize when I was in counseling sessions what the hell my problem was that whole semester. I thought my issue was that I missed home and my family. But that was not the root cause. There was this day after I came home and told umma that I was still not feeling like myself and didn’t know what’s wrong. She asked me if it was because of DACA.-
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Throughout the semester, it was hard to push myself to go to counseling. I never felt like I deserved counseling. My problems didn’t seem good enough to be taking away an hour of someone’s time. Also, if I take up a 45-minute session, then I’m taking away someone else’s 45-minute session. What if they need it more than I do? But also, I’m a psychology major and an RA, so I should support counseling. When someone comes to me, the first thing I should do is guide them to the counseling center, but how can I recommend it if I never went myself? 

One counseling session, I was telling my counselor I didn’t know if what I was feeling was real. I didn’t know if I was just being a huge baby about this because I came from a family that’s extremely emotionally resilient. My parents gave up so much to come to America. It always pains my heart. My appa graduated college and had a decent office job in Korea. Now, he works mind-numbing jobs, where you only use your hands and not your mind. It’s so tiring and exhausting, especially when you know how smart and capable you are. Appa is able to go through all this. He is currently unemployed and surviving without taking meds. He’s not going to counseling. Who the fuck am I to say I need to go to counseling? Who the fuck am I to say I have these mental health problems and need help? Why can’t I just pick up my stupid bootstraps and keep walking. Why can’t I do that? The reason why is that I’m being a baby.
I was asking my counselor to please tell me that I am being a baby and don’t know what I’m doing. “ (Part 2 of 3, Anonymous) ...

Junior year the downfall started. My close friend was applying to study abroad in Korea and was complaining to me about problems with the process. I was trying to empathize, but was sad listening to her. I wanted to go to Copenhagen for a teaching program, instead of my country Korea, but I couldn’t. She knew all that, but she never acknowledged it, and was complaining to me. It wasn’t on her mind 24/7 like it is for me. I burst out into tears when she left. I was also pissed off because I didn’t have a choice; I couldn’t apply. When you’re an immigrant, you’re from a family that is willing to risk anything. I was taught all my life that no matter how impossible something seems I have to try. But in this situation, it was literally impossible for me to go. I guess it wasn’t impossible, I can apply for an advanced parole, but my parents would worry every day about whether I’d get back in the country. I know that, and I don’t want to put that stress on them.

You were born in America. You can say you’re American. I was born in Korea. I can’t say I’m American, and I’ve never called myself American. I never truly felt that. I can’t even go back to my country. At least you have a home here. I don’t have a home here or there. 

The monarch butterfly is a symbol of undocumented people, ‘cause monarchs migrate, which is a natural thing. But society dictates that it’s not natural, by setting these borders and broken immigration laws. It’s natural to go and try to find something more beautiful/better opportunities.”  (Part 1 of 3, Anonymous) ...

Last week, HCAP held a mental health check-in led by Dr. Marcia Liu! Attendees were able to discuss different stressors in their lives and address each one whether it was related to covid-19, being AAPI or a racial minority, school stress, or their mental health in general. They then discussed SMART ways to cope with such stressors (swipe right!). ...

Identities: Queer, non-binary, Bangladeshi American, Hunter College Alumni living in NYC

“As a queer and trans person who has never come out to their parents, quarantine has been difficult for my mental health. A lot of my college years have been about figuring out and being honest to myself about all my identities. A big reason I was able to be so open was thanks to the friends who always made sure to have an inviting space. Having to go backwards and hide these identities from the people around me has been a unique challenge that I didn’t expect to have until the pandemic. Safe and welcoming environments are crucial for all of us to thrive in, and yet many trans people of color are not granted this experience without working hard for it. This struggle becomes more challenging on the mental health of trans people of color whose coping mechanisms and outlets have been taken away due to the pandemic.”
(Anonymous) ...

Identities: 1.5 Gen, Taishanese Chinese, Cis Woman

“At one point in my life, it was difficult to identify as Chinese. I moved here with my parents when I was only four, so I’ve been immersed in American culture. I’ve grown into who I am now, and I’m proud of my identity as a Chinese-American, but sometimes I get scared to lose touch with my Chinese culture. My parents are from Taishan, Guangdong China, and we speak Taishanese. Similar, but different, to the more commonly-known Cantonese. I don’t meet many people who speak it who are my age, so it’s difficult to practice outside of my family. There are also traditions my parents want me to keep and pass on one day, but I fear I'll be unable to without guidance.

At times it is challenging to navigate my own wants from expectations that are put on me. I know how hard my parents worked to make a better life for me, and I want to please them, but is it worth giving up my happiness? Sometimes we’ll get into arguments because of a conflict in our personal beliefs, and I’ll defend my position, even though it is looked down upon to speak up against your elders. Dealing with the stress from these arguments can be difficult because my family doesn’t talk about mental health at all. I don’t know even the word for depression [in Taishanese], but I know the importance of acknowledging my feelings. I’m still learning how to navigate these stresses and balancing both cultures.”
(Yu L.) ...