Transcriber: ashley furuya Reviewer: Michael Nystrom
If you were to look me up online,
you would see that I have 1.2 million followers.
A number so large, it is almost impossible to conceptualize.
Now, I’m not telling you this to boast or to show off my success online, no.
I’m telling you this because I see this number,
1.2 million,
as individuals that trust me, individuals that relate to me,
something that a younger Jasmine longed for so much growing up.
When I was young, I never really noticed I was Asian,
and it was because, back then, that didn’t define who I was.
It wasn't until I was around eight years old, however,
where I started to feel different,
like the “other.”
I found myself being singled out when most of the things I did
were very much part of the norm.
For example, lots of other kids would bring lunch to school, right?
I, for one, was so excited to bring my Hello Kitty lunch bag to school
for the first time.
And when I finally did and I opened it up,
my peers covered their noses and screamed, “Eww!”
at the lunch that my Asian mother so lovingly packed.
My stomach dropped.
I wasn’t hungry anymore,
and I knew I could never bring an Asian lunch to school again.
Do you remember that feeling after having your first kiss?
I, for one, felt like I was floating on a bubble
and no one could bring me down.
I was so excited to tell my friends
that I was finally a woman and that a boy likes me.
My friends told me,
“Oh, he’s only done it because he’s never kissed an Asian girl before.
He probably has yellow fever or something.”
That bubble?
Poof.
I began to realize that I wasn’t me, Jasmine, in other people’s eyes.
I was just “the Asian girl.”
Quickly afterwards, I found that the more Americanized
and whitewashed I became,
the more I was accepted.
I became so good at pushing away my Asian identity
that even the voice in the back of my head started to think
that being Asian was bad,
because being different was bad.
I will never forget when a person told me with a smile on her face,
“I am so happy you are assimilated to white culture.”
I became what many dub “a banana,”
yellow on the outside, white on the inside.
I finally felt accepted,
but at the cost of rejecting my Asian-American identity.
Okay, I’ll rewind nine years, right when I was 13 years old.
Aw yes, I’m a cool teenager now,
and I needed all of the cool teenager things.
My dad got the hint and bought me
the most sophisticated, incredible piece of technology
I had ever laid my eyes on,
the iPod Touch.
And with it, I discovered a little website called YouTube.
I became obsessed,
and there were so many incredible videos on there, like
“What Does the Fox Say?” and the “Harlem Shake,” I loved it.
So much so, that it wasn’t long until I uploaded my first-ever YouTube video.
Years passed, I finally made it through high school
and began my days as an SDSU college student.
Go Aztecs.
(Audience) Woo!
I continued making videos about topics I was passionate about,
and I also allowed myself to be vulnerable
and open up about my fears and insecurities,
whether it be being Asian-American,
being a woman,
or just a human being in general.
Other students on campus, especially those with similar identities as me,
would sometimes stop me
and tell me that my content helped them not feel alone,
they felt seen, and that they were comforted.
And this?
That is when I began to realize that what I post matters
and has the power to affect people on a personal level.
It was actually never my intention to become an influencer
when I first started making videos.
It wasn’t even possible at the time.
I was just a lonely kid with an extreme passion for video making,
and now I had the audience to share it with.
I am so proud
to be a source of Asian female representation in the media,
because growing up, it was really rare to see that.
In fact, a study at USC found that out of 1,300 popular films
from 2007 to 2019,
a mere 44 of those films depicted an Asian or Pacific Islander lead or co-lead,
with 14 of those roles actually being portrayed by one single actor,
Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson.
(Audience) Woo!
(Laughter)
The study also showed that for every one API actor,
there were 15.3 white male actors.
Additionally, of all the speaking roles in these films,
less than 6% were given to API actors,
many of whom were given five lines or less.
A really important term my talk encompasses is “intersectionality,”
the acknowledgment that everyone has their own unique experiences
of discrimination and oppression,
and we must consider anything and everything that may marginalize them.
For me, I am an Asian person,
specifically Southeast Asian, who is also a woman,
which comes with a plethora of other stereotypes and discrimination.
The USC study found that of the mere 44 API leads or co-leads in these movies,
only six were female,
with four of those roles being portrayed by just two actresses.
They also found that across 200 top-grossing films
from 2018 to 2019,
only 13.3% were Southeast Asian.
As you can see,
when Asian people are included in the media,
it is typically biased towards East Asian people,
think K-pop, K-dramas, anime,
and non-East Asian groups are often sidelined and disregarded.
Many people even now use Asian and Chinese synonymously.
I started to realize that the Asian people I did see in the media
were mostly there to fulfill an Asian stereotyped role.
Now, don’t get me wrong,
I love when our cultures are embraced and shown to educate others,
but when the person’s entire purpose is to be the sidekick that’s good at math,
that’s where I have a disconnect.
The media was constantly feeding audiences these inaccurate,
one-dimensional stereotypes
that society internalized and essentially held as a standard for Asian people.
As a result, I would not join many AP classes,
maybe miss a few questions on my high school tests.
It was because when my peers excelled in school, they were congratulated,
and when I did, it was dismissed as
“Oh, you only did well because you’re Asian,”
not because I studied and worked hard.
Moving on to my life now and representation on social media.
There’s a term, “the glass ceiling,”
that refers to the barrier that marginalized groups,
including women and racial minorities, face when seeking career advancements.
The consequence of this
is that existing leaders, subconsciously or consciously,
tend to seek personality and cultural characteristics that reflect their own
during hiring and promotion practices.
Thus, the current homogenous composition of leadership teams across industries.
This concept applies to social media influence as well.
Platforms like TikTok, YouTube, Instagram
rely heavily on AI algorithms to rank and recommend content.
A PwC article highlighted that
people write these algorithms,
people choose the data put into these algorithms,
and people ultimately decide how to apply the results from these algorithms.
Without diverse teams and rigorous testings,
it can become too easy to let subtle unconscious biases seep in,
which AI then automates and perpetuates.
Ultimately, algorithms hold the key to success online
and, in most cases, are biased against people of color.
I am trying my best to break through that glass ceiling.
For example, I have a really popular series on my YouTube channel
called “Big Sister Chats,”
mainly catered to my younger audience,
where I openly talk about vulnerable and sensitive, sometimes taboo,
topics and experiences that many teenage girls go through.
I think this is really important because a lot of young people
don’t have the confidence or the resources
to get answers to these really important questions.
I also do “Day in my Life” vlogs
where I show the not-so-glamorous side of being an influencer
and also just being a relatable woman in her early 20s.
Balancing this line of work
while being a full-time college student was a mental struggle at times.
Spending 30-plus hours filming and editing a single YouTube video,
sacrificing educational and social time,
all to appeal to the algorithms, audiences, and brands.
I want to say I am not trying to bash on the job
and field of work that I chose to be in.
But it was a very pivotal moment for me to realize that
this type of discrimination is prevalent,
and it is important for me to actively try and change that.
I know social media influencers have a bad reputation sometimes,
and it all just seems so materialistic and fake.
Yes, my job is to upload photos and videos of my daily life,
express myself through fashion and makeup,
but it’s all contributing to a source of representation,
togetherness,
and unity,
which is much greater than that.
While we still have a ways to go regarding representation,
we are making great progress,
like Michelle Yeoh’s historic Best Actress win at the Oscars,
making her the first Asian woman to do so.
(Applause)
I hope in the future that Asian people will continue to be portrayed
as actual three-dimensional human beings and not contained in this stereotype box.
So here I am, nine years older than the girl with an iPod touch
who hated being Asian and never saw herself in the media.
I wish she could see me now.
My goal with my social media influence
is to help others with similar identities and beyond
feel seen, heard, and loved
because I know I needed that so much growing up.
Thank you.
(Applause)