Every year there appears to be no shortage of celebrations. From food and dancers to conferences for the gay and Asian, U.S. campuses find the time for Asian Pacific American Heritage Month events from March through May — the official month designated by Congress. But an abundance of APA heritage events can be deceiving, masking real uncertainties about the state of Asian Americans in higher ed. After 33 years of APAH celebrations, it seems like we’re just marking time.
Although APAs make up just 5 percent of the nation’s population, they are often an overwhelming minority on college campuses, exceeding 40 percent at some schools. “Asian-ness” is an increasingly characteristic look and feel of the modern campus. But large numbers don’t always equal strength. The diversity fights of 40 years ago are not over. Asian Americans on campus remain on the margins.
Big school or small, it doesn’t matter. In the largest APA enclaves, academic and cultural programs face cutbacks. Where Asian Americans are no longer a novelty, schools still struggle to build a meaningful Asian American presence.
At Purdue, 1,700 Asian American undergrads represent 44 percent of all minority students there, making them the university’s single largest minority group. But therein lies the essential Asian American conundrum. When there’s so many, it’s hard to claim “underrepresentation,” leaving Asian Americans with crumbs compared to the institutional support other groups receive.
“Consequently, we are the largest minority and the least served,” says Kate Agathon, a graduate lecturer in the university’s Asian American studies program. As part of the wave of adoptions from her native Thailand to the U.S. in the 1970s, Agathon grew up in Colorado, “a child of White privilege.” She says she didn’t become Asian American till she came to Purdue.
Agathon has made it her “duty” to make Purdue more Asian-friendly. As part of the Council on Asian American Studies, she helped design Asian American courses in 2008 and taught classes in 2009 and 2010. Outside the classroom, she developed events for annual heritage celebrations. A photo exhibit, an art auction and a symposium all focused on Asian American identity. To fund it all, Agathon used her own fellowship money.
It’s a pattern often repeated on other campuses. Tenured staff or support is rarely provided, and the onus to create or keep alive Asian American studies is put on mostly unpaid graduate students and staff from other departments, all of whom are limited in what they can do. When they leave, it’s back to square one.
