My story starts on the lower East side of New York City, the first child of immigrant parents. Dad arrived in the early 50s as a “paper”[1] son from a small rural village in the county of Toysan (台山), a few hours by bus from Guangzhou (廣州). Shortly after arriving in NYC, he was drafted into the US Army and went to Korea for two years. Near the end of his military service, he met and married mom in Hong Kong, then brought her back to NYC. I was born shortly afterwards! Our young family lived in several locations in the greater Chinatown area in my early years, with a couple of years in public housing. When I was about 4 or 5, my enterprising father got into the small neighborhood Chinese restaurant business; the first one was in Keyport, NJ. Over the next 40 years, he would move to two other locations on Long Island in Hicksville and East Meadow. In my teens, I started working for dad on Saturdays as the telephone order-taker with additional tasks like wrapping wontons or packing fried noodles. I attribute my telephone personality to that experience.
In my early years, we lived near Little Italy and I remember local landmarks like the Jewish Daily Forward building and attractions like kosher pickle stands and Ukrainian and Jewish delis. At P.S. 2, the public school in my neighborhood, about half the kids were Chinese, about a quarter were Jewish and the rest were Italian, Puerto Rican, and African American. I remember I could get a quarter of a kosher pickle out of the barrel for a penny; later it cost a nickel. My parents worked hard and eventually saved enough to buy a home in Queens, NY before I began high school.
Moving to California
Jumping forward, I was determined to try to live more openly as a gay person at the time I entered grad school. Upon graduation, I came to Oakland and have lived in the Grand Lake neighborhood ever since. As I expanded my life as a more open person, I found the Pacific Center in Berkeley and joined their Asian Men’s Support Group. Gay support groups on campus were not as prevalent in those days as they are now, and the Pacific Center was a safe space for gay people to meet. The support group is where I met Welmin, who would become my life partner (going on over 30 years) and, for the last five years, my husband.
Why Ashby Village?
Out of college, my work experience has been in smaller organizations and businesses with a focus on consulting and investment banking with nonprofit healthcare and retirement communities. When AV’s Board Chair Andra Lichtenstein called to ask me to join the Board—and use my financial background in the role of Treasurer— it seemed like a perfect fit. Becoming part of Ashby Village checks off all the boxes: It’s a small organization, deep in the community with much growth potential and an important mission. I have been so impressed with the dedication of Ashby Village’s board and staff.
[1] A “Paper’ son typically buys an identity to gain entry into the U.S. They memorize minute details of their “father’s” life in the hopes of passing the stringent immigration requirements imposed by the Chinese Exclusion Act. My dad became the “son” of his older half brother who happened to be older than my paternal grandmother, which made the ruse easier to accomplish. Dad only had a second grade education but was known for being bright and scrappy. In the late 1960s, he became a legal permanent resident and was eventually naturalized.