After years as an anchor and reporter, Dion Lim is now on her own, building her new career on new platforms and talking about her second book: Amplify: My Fight For Asian America. In it, she revisits her reporting on the spike in anti-Asian violence during the pandemic and since, and she reveals the toll it took on herself. Here, she updates The Voice of San Francisco about her life and the issues raised in her book.
You’re no longer on the air at KGO. Do you still get a steady stream of tips about anti-Asian violence?
Oh my God, all the time. It is not necessarily physical violence. It is a lot of underhanded, passive-aggressive commenting — unconscious bias.
But we’re facing a new crop of anti-Asian hate, where it is driven because of anti-China sentiments. It’s also driven because of the immigration debate and battle. So it still exists. It has just morphed; it looks like we’re also dealing with more issues of racism at the forefront when it comes to the Jewish community, for example. Or just today, I read an article about Indian Americans being such a large part of the Bay Area tech scene, and how they feel like they’re being pushed out and made to feel like they don’t belong. It’s just morphed in its form.
In your book, you say the Asian American victims of these crimes often saw you as an alternative to reporting to the police. Has that changed at all?
It’s a good question. I think people still see me as an outlet that they want information to go to. Do I think they expect it to be on TV? Of course not. I think more so than anything, they want someone to just pay attention and to care. I think they also know that I can reach now more people on social media and from a digital standpoint, and that many people are able to share the content, and in different ways. … For some people, that’s enough.
Was the role of a traditional journalist to be compassionate? That’s a little hazy, but I think [it is] the role of a human, certainly.
At my book launch at the Commonwealth Club, one of the moments that touched me the most was a family in Oakland that had been the victim of gun violence. They lost a key figure of their family. I had not heard from them in more than two and a half years. We never actually did a story together on TV, but they told me that me being there in their living room never left them, that they wanted to show their thanks, to show support for me telling stories of others. I think that’s a really powerful thing, and it’s a responsibility that I understand and want to carry.
I can see that need to be heard and to have someone pay attention to you being really powerful when you’re the victim of a crime and you feel that the system is not helping you.
That’s it. And it’s a helplessness, and sometimes all you need is an ear. All you need is a little bit of compassion. Was the role of a traditional journalist to be compassionate? That’s a little hazy, but I think [it is] the role of a human, certainly.
You write about the importance of mental health protection for yourself and for others in the AAPI community. Have you seen the AAPI community provide this help?
This is a great question, because I just spoke about it at Stanford yesterday for a lot of people who were in the health department.
It’s twofold. I see new organizations popping up. We have Asians for Mental Health; we have Creating Space surrounding discussions and bringing in young people; but it is on the Asian-American population themselves to seek it or to be O.K. with it culturally. I grew up in a family where crying was not allowed — only at your mother’s funeral. I was told that if I needed to see a therapist, that meant I was a crazy person. That in turn is what prevented me from seeking help earlier and what caused the on-air breakdowns and the mental health struggles.
[Yesterday] I met a woman who has daughters in their late teens [or] early twenties. She told me that the stigma is definitely going down for young people, because there’s so much discussion about suicide and taking care and all of these influencers making it O.K. That to me is a lot of hope. I see the new generation similar to them speaking out during the pandemic, reaching out via Instagram or social media. Now they’re taking on the cause of mental health, and I think that’s cool.
Let’s talk a little bit about political leadership. Were there any folks who stood out as having done the right thing in response to this?
If you read the book, you know who politically was very challenging over the course of my reporting, so much so that there was a hit piece in The Washington Post. Which by the way, I take as a badge of honor these days, truly.
From a political standpoint as a journalist, I am always very wary of people who may only be aligning for political gain; very cautious of it. However, I did find the level of empathy from Brooke Jenkins, our current district attorney, exemplary, especially after what I experienced with the district attorney in Oakland at the time, Pam Price. I also, in a more contemporary sense, appreciated Assembly member Patrick Ahrens down in the South Bay. I actually said this at an event that he hosted for South Bay leaders, that unlike many politicians who just showed up at Asian American events or tried to align with my reporting because it curried favor with the audience, I appreciate that Patrick actually showed up and spent time and asked his own questions and didn’t do things for the photo-op only when I wanted to take photos or others wanted to take photos.
That goes a long way. The funny thing is that neither of those people are Asian American. [Sheriff] Paul Miyamoto always showed up as well. … I actually think of Matt Dorsey; I will never forget in public how many times he would underscore the importance of these conversations, and even though he was not Asian American, as someone in the LGBTQ+ community could align with those same prejudices and feeling the victim of those things.
What are you up to now?
It’s so funny because before, for so many years, almost two decades, the answer was so easy. Anchor and reporter; everybody knew what that was, and it was a very pleasing answer to a lot of people, but what I do now is an amalgam of many things, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It was gut wrenching and very traumatic in the months after leaving, because when you have an identity for so long, you wonder what your new life will look like. On top of that, my husband was diagnosed with leukemia, so that added an extra layer of complexity. Being in the Bay Area, I had mentors who said, “You should go into tech. It’s the easiest thing to do—taking a comms job, a P.R. job. The money is great.” And for the longest time, I thought that’s what I was going to do.
But when my husband got sick and when I started aligning with people and understanding the need to ask for help and guidance, I discovered that my soul would die, and I said, “I need to do storytelling in some form or fashion.”
My day job is I am the spokesperson and chief strategist for Asian American Voices, which is Garry Tan, president and CEO of Y Combinator, his foundation. We help uplift over a dozen grassroots nonprofits that are Asian American that started during the pandemic, help them become the next great leaders in our communities, because they align with the values of safety and education and prosperity. …
I also do executive keynote advising for major companies. … The third thing that I do is that I’ve been very excited and happy as a creative outlet that I get to do storytelling on social media and people will pay me for it. I mean, it’s a world that I didn’t even know really existed, but I think people have found valuable because of my journalism background. So I feel incredibly blessed and I wouldn’t want this any other way.
Every day is a new adventure and I love it.
