Throughout my years of experience as a graduate student, postdoctoral fellow, scientist in the biotech industry, professor in academia, daughter from a Korean family raised in the United States and Canada, and mother of three children, I have been privileged to have many mentors to guide me on my career and life path. And when I became a mentor in academia, I realized how my Asian heritage could play a crucial role in the professional and career development of my students.
Looking back upon my own career with this diversity, equity and inclusion lens has also been an awakening experience for me as a professional and as a woman. I write this piece to provide not only the students themselves but also educators, mentors and others a perspective that will perhaps help them better understand the challenges and goals of graduate students of Asian descent.
Developing My Thought Leadership
All throughout my high school and undergraduate education, I thought I was part of the melting pot. I had Korean parents, but my culture was North Americanized as I grew up in California, Ohio and Ontario. Sure, I had some instances of microaggressions, racism and discrimination, but over all, my experience was very positive, with many supportive and loving friends and teachers. I did not ask many questions in class. I absorbed the material and became sufficient in test-taking to gain admissions and graduate with a high GPA from my university.
It was during one of my committee meetings while working on my master’s in science that it finally occurred to me that my upbringing in a Korean family could impact my scientific and academic endeavors. After this meeting, my supervisor remarked, “I’m not sure if it is a cultural thing, but it is OK to disagree with your supervisor and committee members. Tell us what you think.”
That was a huge point of reflection for me. The scholarly culture of a Korean family from my generation is one of listening intently to the teacher, not questioning what is taught and thinking in solitude. I was only supposed to ask a question after I had thought it over many times. Also, raising a question in class would be taking up the time of other students, which would be inconsiderate. When my supervisor made that comment, it was a new worldview for me.
As a Ph.D. student, I became more aware of this trait in myself. Although I still did not ask too many questions in class or seminars, I did remember the words of my master’s supervisor and an opportunity presented itself for me to practice having an intellectual disagreement with my supervisor. My Ph.D. supervisor was a lovely mentor in that he checked in regularly, hosted community building events and encouraged me to attend many conferences to present my work.
We did, however, have a difference in opinion about the technique to use in the next steps of my project. He had suggested something; I believed something else. As usual, I digested his thoughts at the meeting and then at home in the evening. I then researched all the publications that supported my view and wrote a one-page mini proposal complete with references about how it would save him time, money and resources. I also had one of my collaborating mentors support my idea. When I presented the proposal to my Ph.D. supervisor, he read it and approved my idea, and I successfully finished my project.
My supervisor and I also had a different opinion about when I could finish laboratory work and start writing my thesis. The previous version of me might have just stayed an extra year or two working projects that he proposed. However, I presented the records of my committee meetings and how the last one mentioned that if I had accomplished a set of milestones, I was to be given permission to write. I communicated this to my committee and they all agreed, resulting in my finishing my thesis in five years.
Since my Ph.D. experience. I have continued to grow in developing confidence, DEI skills and emotional intelligence—or, to use a Korean word, “nunchi,” which describes the art of listening and reading the room and people’s moods even without conversation. I have navigated the postdoc world, biotech industry and academia as a senior research scientist, director of application science, associate professor, director of mentorship and graduate professional development with a focus on continued self-development, while learning how to speak about my own ideas and thoughts in a work environment.
Community Stories
Throughout my years in STEM, I have also heard about and seen firsthand the challenges that other Asian women graduate students and faculty members have confronted. I’d like to share a few sample stories, along with some recommendations for helping resolve them.
- An East Asian scientist mentioned to me that in team meetings with predominantly non-Asian men, she feels too intimidated to express her own opinion, especially if it is contrary to the discussion. She knows she must feel more confident in speaking up. Perhaps an ally at the meeting could request that everyone take turns speaking. Perhaps an ally could notice when she has her hand up and tell the group that she has something to say.
- An East Asian woman was working as a director at an institution. She was the first Asian in that leadership role. When her non-Asian executive requested a performance meeting and told her “she did not belong here,” she immediately went into her silent mode, walked to her office and cried. It took assistance from her HR manager and a month of confidence-building to return to a meeting with her boss to say how those words made her feel as an Asian woman. She was not sure if he understood, but she was happy that her own confidence grew immensely.
- An East Asian woman attended an East Asian community event in her company to discover that all of her speakers and panelists were from only one East Asian country. As a more confident professional, she provided feedback to the organizers that a more diverse representation among Asian countries would be more inclusive.
- At a train-the-trainer workshop, the plenary speaker opened a DEI seminar talking about how racism against Asian American students had increased during COVID. They then summarized a student assistance program for non-Asian student groups. As an attendee in the small group breakout sessions after the talk, I opened up about how I felt invisible as the talk opened with problems facing Asian students but did not address what we could do about it. More safe spaces to talk openly about such issues and perspectives could help.
Asking Questions and Moving Forward
The cultural background of not asking questions and going with the flow with the teacher is deeply rooted and plays an unconscious role in professional interactions. Yes, there might be a systemic, unspoken unconscious bias at some work meetings—or not, especially if team member are allies trained in DEI. But as an Asian woman, I have noticed that I tend to not ask many questions myself sometimes. It has been only with reflection, time, interactions with others and building more confidence to ask the questions, sit at the table and speak up that I have slowly grown beyond this conditioned inner voice.
To graduate students who share the same type of upbringing as mine, I say that it may take some years of rethinking your whole thought system. But it is OK and necessary for you to question the scientific ideas brought to your professors, especially if you are in a Ph.D. program. As a Ph.D. graduate, you are the expert in your field and must form your own scientific opinion.
This idea that you should avoid conflict even if it means you do not voice you own thoughts is something to overcome. Speaking your own opinion is essential in gaining credibility and leadership roles. The term bamboo ceiling describes the barriers to advancement and underrepresentation of Asians in management and executive positions across industries and institutions, including in higher education.
Speaking your own mind also plays a large role in self-promotion and asking for raises. Asian culture highly values humility and less self-promotion. Parents of my own parental generation do not praise their child or often say, “I am proud of you,” for they think it will spoil the child’s advancement in a competitive society. I can see how this culture would prevent an ask for a raise or promotion, even if it is well deserved. I discussed some of these concepts with others on a panel at the 2021 Canada-Korea Conference on Science and Technology organized by the Korea Federation of Women’s Science & Technology Associations and the Association of Korean Canadian Scientists and Engineers.
All these thoughts reflect my own opinion—it took years of contemplation for me to write this piece—and other Asian American/Canadian women may have a different one. It is my own personal narrative on how I, as a Korean woman with a Korean cultural upbringing, may have a perspective quite different from that of someone who was raised in a non-Asian family and how that might have affected my professional life. I’m telling my story so that perhaps some Asian women students can relate and realize they are not alone in their world.
And I’m also telling it so that if you are an ally or a mentor for students on their career journey, perhaps you can notice when a woman is trying to speak up and ask her if she needs some help in opening the door. That may mean ensuring time for her questions, offering a space for her to express her thoughts, mentoring her—and also telling her that it is OK to disagree with her mentors and express her own scholarly ideas. She may have a eureka moment just like I did with my master’s supervisor that may influence the rest of her career.
Or she might tell you that she is independent and confident on her own. She may want to open her own doors. But whatever the case, she will be thankful for your extended emotional intelligence, courtesy and nunchi.