I’m hovering over a table of Vietnamese egg rolls and roast duck. It’s an annual family gathering; so kids are playing with the latest gadgets, aunties are setting up karaoke, and uncles are indulging in Heineken. A distant auntie creeps by, scans for fish sauce, and then strikes a conversation with: “What do you do?”

“I teach elementary school in Texas,” I replied–with half an egg roll still cooling off in my mouth.

“Oh,” she mumbled.



In the U.S., approximately 2.5% of elementary school teachers are Asian males. This statistic resonates with my educational experience in California: Out of 30+ teachers from elementary to high school, I can distinctly recall Miss Anne, Miss Kim, and Mr. Cheung. Granted, they weren’t Vietnamese (and, c’mon, I lived in a Laguna Beach suburb), but to interact with Asian American adults outside the family context was… comforting. I felt represented; and their experiences and stories were more definitely relatable. No offense to Jackie Chan and Jet Li.

My mom – a Saigon native – always emphasized the importance of respect, particularly towards my Sunday school Vietnamese teachers. It’s ironic how much prestige teachers in Vietnam hold: Today’s negative stigma surrounding teaching has seeped into the Vietnamese American community and shed a dim light on the teaching profession.



So. What does it mean to be a gaysian Texas teacher? It means…

- I’m constantly justifying my teaching career at family gatherings and church functions.

- My educational experiences at UCLA and Johns Hopkins are questioned.

- I wasn’t “smart” enough to be a doctor.

- My “masculinity” is on thin ice.

- I’ll need a second job during the weekends and summer breaks. #truestory

- I can be fired – legally – for disclosing my sexual orientation.

- I’m mandated by law and school policies to teach white history.

- My community is not represented within my curriculum.

- I’m tokenized among my predominantly white and female coworkers.

- Parents, coworkers, and principals hold extra firm expectations of me as the “hard working” Asian American.

- My reserved nature is oftentimes mistaken as "passiveness.”

- I’m constantly asked to explain my “origin.”

As a teacher in Texas, my identities are constantly intersecting–and clashing. I find myself comprising: I’m juggling my identities; but then reflecting on my role within the classroom and society. I teach in a low-income, predominately Black and Hispanic neighborhood. For a majority of my students, I’ll be one of the few – and perhaps only – queer Asian American figures in their lives.

As a gaysian Texas teacher, I’m consumed by stereotypes and tasked with being a picture-perfect model for my students and community. But I represent the 2.5%; and am called to challenge stereotypes that my community and students hold of me as a queer Catholic Vietnamese Canadian American male.



To be a gaysian Texas teacher is to be brave: And to remain hopeful in a system that continues to target me, my students, and community.



This, my friends and family, is why I teach.

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Today’s post features follower lustforthoughts reflection on being gay, Asian, and a teacher in Texas. Thank you for the submission!



-Letters