In 1992, President George H.W. Bush cemented the phrase “family values” into America’s political lexicon. What could have stood for stability and intergenerational responsibility quickly devolved into a coded attack on abortion rights, LGBTQ people, gender diversity, and more. Our country’s political left, including many Asian Americans, responded by distancing itself from the term, eventually outright rejecting it. Concurrently, Asian American activism entered a new era — AZN Pride, an inward-facing movement that focused on ending self-hate and reclaiming identity. But as the left abandoned family values, we lost touch with what it truly meant — a value that has grounded Asian civilizations for centuries. Now, more than 30 years later, we’ve arrived at a turning point in our community.
Today, we’re witnessing the largest exodus of Asian Americans from the Democratic Party in our nation’s history. And no, it’s not because we’ve suddenly become conservatives. Asian America isn’t monolithic — our stories, cultures, and experiences are rich and varied. While my perspective draws primarily from Chinese and East Asian communities, the central role family plays resonates widely across our diverse identities. Democratic leadership has sidelined the values we’ve lived by for generations. In Asian civilizations like China, the family has always been the cornerstone of society. It was the most basic unit, building block of entire societies. Families became clans, clans became villages, and villages became cities. Now, in pursuit of ideological purity, city leaders lose sight of governance that supports real people. And Asian Americans pay the price every time.
As a San Franciscan and a lifelong Democrat, I know families come in many forms. I grew up next door to two moms who raised adopted daughters — I don’t need a politician to tell me what a real family looks like. To me, family means building a life with people you love, growing old with dignity, and having the option to raise children. San Francisco, which Asians helped build, now drives out the very working-class and immigrant families that made it strong. But Asian Americans aren’t abandoning San Francisco. We’ve expanded beyond Chinatown, raising families across the city, and growing more rooted with each generation. For us, family values aren’t a far-right dog whistle — they define who we are. Family sits at the center of our culture, held up by three pillars: public safety, public education, and the right to prosperity. And let’s be clear: these aren’t just Asian values — they’re American ones. We’re not asking for anything more than what everyone deserves — safety in the streets, opportunity in the classroom, and the chance to build something lasting. And every American should expect nothing less. And we’re not here to negotiate them.
Public education
Raising children isn’t just important in Asian culture — it’s everything — especially having a son to carry on the family name. But when it comes to why we care so deeply about public education, it’s simple: We love a good deal. We worked our way out of poverty, bought homes, and now we pay more taxes than ever, so we expect our kids to get a quality education in return. That’s supposed to be one of the promises of being American.
But in San Francisco, school leaders have made one disastrous decision after another. A decade ago, they eliminated algebra from eighth grade. When schools stayed closed during the pandemic with no reopening plan in sight, Asian parents started showing up to school board meetings. What they found was absurd. Instead of getting students back in classrooms, the board fixated on a mural, school renaming, and other distractions. Then they made Lowell High School admissions a lottery rather than based on merit. This proved a point of no return for our community. So we organized — and that moment galvanized Asian families to lead the 2022 school board recall.
Just as Washington’s soldiers crossed the Delaware, Asian immigrants crossed oceans and continents, risking everything for the same dream: a chance at something better.
Something uglier lay beneath it all: a sharp undercurrent of anti-Asian racism running through our public schools. Again and again, we heard the same thing: Too many Asians. Too many in algebra. Too many at Lowell. SFUSD blocked Asian parents from joining the Parent Advisory Council, saying there were already too many Asians on it. When the issue was escalated to then–school board President Kevine Boggess, he clearly agreed. The backlash from an already energized Asian parent network cost him his presidency, and he declined to run again.
In the early 1900s, the hatred wasn’t hidden — we were called rats. That kind of rhetoric has always been a slippery slope: Once you decide there’s too many, it doesn’t take much to justify violence. Too many rats? Exterminate them. Too many Asians? Who cares if one gets killed.
That same momentum didn’t stay local — it went national. Asian Americans organized around public education nationwide, just as we had in earlier civil rights battles. In the not-so-distant past, we stood shoulder to shoulder with Black and Brown communities to demand affirmative action and to open the gates to America’s top universities. But somewhere along the way, the system we once believed in turned its back on us. It turned racial quotas from a tool of opportunity into a barrier for Asian students. So we organized, this time with Asian Americans leading the charge. In 2023, the Supreme Court struck down race-based college admissions in Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard. The following year, MIT’s incoming freshman class was 47 percent Asian, the highest in the university’s history. And we should be damn proud of that.
But the greatest insult to the Asian community wasn’t loud, it was subtle. It began during the pandemic, when Asian parents started showing up to school board meetings, not to protest, but to understand when and how their children would return to class. These were the same parents who never opened the door when I canvassed, some working late shifts, others staying home to make sure their kids mastered algebra by eighth grade. Many barely spoke English, but they showed up anyway — tired, respectful, serious. And instead of answers, they were handed a proposal to rename George Washington High School. School board leaders said Washington was a slave owner, a colonizer, and a symbol of white supremacy. Did they forget what happened on Christmas 1776?
Washington’s army had almost nothing left. His army was low on warm clothes, low on food and low on ammo. And no country to go back to because America didn’t exist yet. Across the river, the king’s army — well fed and well supplied — partied through the night, convinced the rebellion was over. Washington gathered his men and made one final ask: Wake at dawn and get in the boat with him. Cross that icy river toward death. Pursue a dream — the American Dream. A belief that they all deserved the chance to build something better. That everyone deserved freedom from tyranny and the right to self-rule. The next morning every single man got into a boat with Washington. They crossed the Delaware and defeated their enemy. That victory turned the tide of the American Revolution. The promise of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness became the foundation of this country. And just as Washington’s soldiers crossed the Delaware, Asian immigrants crossed oceans and continents, risking everything for the same dream: a chance at something better. I can’t think of anything more insulting than asking a parent who’s taken time from their own pursuit of the American Dream to secure their child’s future to instead participate in erasing George Washington from history.
In Asian culture, insulting someone is one thing — bringing them shame is far worse. And the current state of San Francisco’s public schools should bring us all shame. We have some of the lowest fourth-grade reading and math scores in the country. Over the last decade, school board leaders eliminated eighth-grade algebra, dismantled merit-based admissions, and attacked our founding fathers — all in the name of closing the achievement gap for Black and Brown students. But instead of investing in the underserved elementary schools that could have actually closed that gap, they chose culture wars and headline grabs. The hard, quiet work of fixing what’s broken would never have made the front page. And in doing so, they missed something important: half of Asian students in SFUSD are immigrants — underprivileged, often underserved, and still outperforming expectations. Asians overall make up roughly 40 percent of the district. Every one of those kids represents a parent who chose to stay in San Francisco — not to flee, not to go private, but to still believe in public education.
Making the city less family friendly has resulted in cratering enrollment. SFUSD’s budget has hit a crisis point. And there’s no plan to bring families back. It’s a doom loop — and we all know who gets hurt the most. However it’s more than just about Asians and deeper than just shame. When one takes actions to dismantle merit and punish any student from rising to achievement one dishonors the men who crossed the Delaware in 1776. Men who risked — and gave — their lives for a country where anyone could fight for a better future.
It’s obvious though isn’t it? The people who tried to rename George Washington High would never have gotten in the boat that morning. They’d have stayed behind, waited for victory, and claimed the glory. But like the men who crossed the Delaware, we Asian Americans also pursue the American Dream. And from that dream, we build families. Families, after all, make up the cornerstone of civilization — here in America, and across Asian culture. And for us too, that dream is worth dying for.