Belonging vs. Trailblazing: The Inner Conflict That Shaped My Life’s Mission
I had an epiphany after catching this quote in my Instagram feed today, “If you’re always trying to be normal you will never know how amazing you can be.” ~ Maya Angelou
As a kid, I dreamed of two things that were worlds apart: to belong and to be a difference maker.
Looking back, I realize those early dreams reveal so much about who I am at my core.
When I was five, my goal was nothing short of monumental: I wanted to be the first female president of the United States—because I was told that women couldn’t be president. My vision was to end poverty and hunger, find a cure for cancer, and provide equal pay for equal work.
Even at five, patriarchal beliefs had already seeping into my DNA. If it weren’t for my mom telling me that women could do anything men could do, I would never have dared to dream so big.
I secretly wanted to wake up with blond hair, blue eyes, a last name that kids wouldn’t tease me about, and a dad like Mr. Keaton on Family Ties (proud Gen Xer, y’all). Because racism had penetrated into my DNA and my mom had no context for helping me with this. She came to the U.S. as a young grad student in the 1960s, didn’t grow up with the idea of race. As a result, she didn’t get my experience, and wasn’t able to help me counter the stories of “not enough” or “foreigner in my own country” that I faced. Though she was a U.S. citizen, she didn’t see herself as racially different and was proud and anchored in her Chinese heritage.
Miss Emery’s Kindergarten Class in Plymouth Meeting, PA.
I didn’t realize then how much my dreams of making a difference collided with my desire to fit in—or my fear of being seen as the Other. I was one of only three Asian American kids in elementary school. In the early '80s, the only girl who looked like me was Lindsay Price in a Toys R Us commercial. I was teased relentlessly about my eyes, with kids and even adults yelling, “Ching Chong” at me in bathrooms, on buses, on the playground, and on the streets of Philadelphia.
It felt unsafe to live in the skin I was born into, so I assimilated into white culture as much as possible to blend in. Even today, I’m usually the only one who looks like me in a room or on the street. But the way I embody space isn’t the same anymore.
Back then, I thought appearing “normal” meant being able to sing every American anthem and know U.S. history better than anyone else. (Spoiler: It didn’t work lol.)
This is why I love teaching Brand Your Brilliance. The more we give ourselves permission to own what makes us different, the more we have to give the world. And there’s an indescribable joy when clients are drawn to you for exactly who you are—not because you tried to blend in, but because you stood out and stood up for what you believe. You show your clients what’s possible and become a magnet for work you love.
I also get it’s risky. When I wrote a deeply personal essay about hiding as an Asian American during the pandemic, I thought I’d lose friends. But the opposite turned out to be true. While some people fall away, the people who see you and want what you have, will reach out to you.
If you're ready to turn what makes you different into unmatched value, I’d love to support you. Brand Your Brilliance is a free training you can sign up for right here.
Make this the moment you stop blending in and start leading with your unique brilliance.
Shine on,
Stephanie
P.S. Last week’s election results struck a deep chord with my five-year-old self. She wept and threw some tantrums. She had long dreamed of witnessing the first female, Black female, or Asian American president. But the results revealed that it's safer to stay silent and accept the status quo than be who she is. I’m challenging greater fears to stay true and even speak up more for what I believe. That we can own who we are and keep striving to build a culture and create policies that support true liberation and thriving for all.
You and I have more inner power than we realize. As Valarie Kaur says, even in the 'darkness of the womb,' we can create the revolutionary love we all crave. Let’s lead with that love—and transform our unique stories into a force for change.
