In 2020, I started picking up trash with my daughters. What began as a way to get out of the house during lockdown quickly became something deeper — a quiet service routine, a small way to care for the place we call home.
That same year, as anti-Asian hate surged across the country, many of us were forced to confront something we’ve long felt but rarely said out loud: that no matter how long we’ve lived here, no matter how much we contribute, we’re still treated like we don’t belong.
For me, watching videos of elders being shoved, punched, or worse — it didn’t feel distant. It felt personal. I saw my parents in those faces. I saw my aunties, my uncles. My dad worked at JPL-NASA for 50 years. My mom was a dancer and actress, and yes, she has a legit IMDB page. They were immigrants from Hong Kong who built a life here through hard work, discipline, and sacrifice. Any attack on them — or anyone who looks like them—is an attack on all of us.
Civic pride isn’t just a feeling — it’s something we do.
I’ve always believed that belonging isn’t something you wait to be given. It’s something you practice. And for me, picking up trash became my way of showing that I belong here — through action, not just words. That’s what I call Asian civic pride.
It’s not just pride in our heritage. It’s pride in our neighborhoods, our small businesses, our shared streets. And civic pride isn’t just a feeling — it’s something we do. It’s taking care of what’s ours, block by block, business by business, generation by generation.
I didn’t grow up in an all-Asian environment. I went to school in Pasadena, in an affluent white neighborhood that bused in kids from all over. My school was half low-income Black and half low-income Latino. I learned to get along with everyone — sometimes I was their only Asian friend. And I’ll be real: Some kids made fun of me for being Asian. They called me names like “Sushi Eater,” and made me feel like I didn’t belong. Those moments stuck with me. They showed me early what it means to be seen as different and how important it is to stand your ground and stay proud of who you are.
These days, people say I’m the tallest and loudest Asian person they know. I’ll take it. But what matters more is that my actions speak louder than anything else. Because for too long, Asian Americans have been expected to be meek. Silent. Subservient. We’re here to change that narrative through presence, through pride, and action. We’re not here to be pushed around. We’re here to lead.
That’s why this May, for Asian Pacific American Heritage Month, I’m launching a new effort: Year of the Cleanup: Celebrating Asian Civic Pride.
We’ll be organizing community cleanups in Asian neighborhoods across San Francisco — from Chinatown to Visitacion Valley to the Sunset — followed by meals at local Asian-owned businesses. It’s a simple act, but a powerful one: Take care of our blocks, support our businesses, and remind each other that we’re still here, we’re still proud, and we’re still building.
It’s not always easy to get Asian folks out to volunteer. There’s often a sense that we should keep our heads down and focus inward. But that’s changing. I’ve been inspired by how many young people are showing up, especially Asian teenagers from schools like Lowell, who’ve grown up with a deep sense of responsibility to the community. They show up early, grabbers in hand, ready to work. That’s the next generation of leadership and it’s already here.
Too often, Asian Americans are made to feel like we’re guests in our own country. But we’re not guests, we’re stakeholders. We are the neighbors, owners, parents, elders, and workers who make up a full third of this city — and we’re not going anywhere. Belonging means stepping up, not stepping back.
So this is your invitation. Come join us. Clean a block and support a business. Bring your family, too. Let’s keep showing the city — and ourselves — what Asian civic pride really looks like.
Want more Asian Voices of San Francisco? Email Forrest Liu at forrest@thevoicesf.org
