Around the end of middle school, I discovered KevJumba’s channel while surfing YouTube. Kevin Wu, one of the earliest Asian-American adopters of the platform, began posting homemade videos in 2007 for fun, and rapidly gained an unexpected following. At a young age, I barely, if at all, registered the fact that Kevin was Chinese-American like me; his humor and experiences resonated with mine, so I kept watching. Within the safe haven of my room, I especially loved the stints of his dad, whose on-camera exchanges with Kevin caricatured my relationship with my parents. Seeing my cultural struggles reflected on-screen did a lot to validate my difficult-to-navigate experiences.

In high school, my introduction to Wong Fu Productions left me obsessed. From its onset, Wong Fu focused on “using Asian faces to tell an everyday story,” and within their artful and humorous shorts I saw stories of my own. “Yellow Fever,” the 2006 short that launched Wong Fu’s popularity, left me in stitches. “Take it Slow,” a sweetly innocent prom story, reminded me of my big night. “Strangers, Again,” a journey through the stages of a relationship, brought me to tears. Whereas KevJumba ignited my Asian pride, Wong Fu gave me a sense of belonging. Watching them bridged the disparities between my Asian self and non-Asian peers, quieted my fears of being “the other,” and reminded me that I, too, fit within the fabric of the American story.

Wong Fu Productions’ “Yellow Fever” (2006)

It never occurred to me that my experience was emblematic of Asian-American youth until I found myself viewing a May 2016 Wong Fu video called “Asian Americans in Hollywood.” As part of a weekly Lunch Break! series, which often stars various Asian-American actors and film artists in a casual lunch setting, the video features Wong Fu co-founders Philip Wang and Wes Chan chatting with their friends and collaborators––Ki Hong Lee (star of the 2014 movie Maze Runner) and Taylor Chan––over pizza. In this case, they’re discussing Lee’s acting career. As the conversation unfolds, Lee hits on the common issues associated with the Asian-American presence in mainstream media: There are still very few complex Asian characters, and the Hollywood status quo remains white-dominant among both creators and actors; as a result, whitewashing continues—as does the push for greater representation.

In recent years, the Asian-American community has upped the volume in bringing attention to these issues. Earlier this year, The New York Times published an op-ed and an article highlighting the prolonged invisibility of Asian-Americans in media. The latter hit a nerve among readers and triggered a wave of controversial responses. Around the same time, Asian-Americans stormed the Twittersphere with the hashtag campaign #StarringJohnCho, a witty and fiery movement criticizing the lack of Hollywood diversity. And just this month, Jesse Watter’s anti-Chinese American segment on Fox News ignited an onslaught of enraged and thought-provoking commentary that elevated the discrimination to public officials and mainstream media hosts alike.

“The cool thing is that there’s different ways of changing [the status quo],” Wes said in response to Lee’s commentary. “There’s other platforms. All these new ways that content can get out there are ways that groups like us can change the system.”

Wang agreed. “I think it’s already changing … These digital platforms, these streaming platforms are totally disrupting the system, and that’s where I think the most opportunity is going to come for Asian people if we want to step up into that arena.” In the fight to change the system, Asian-American creators no longer have to wait to produce content with their diverse voices and stories.

The new, vocal Asian-American community has a strengthened sense of identity. Asian-American representation has always been an issue — but it’s YouTube that’s finally fueling the momentum now.