Go to the campus of any top American college or university, and you'll see a lot of Asian faces. Asian-American students make up a disproportionate percentage (about 20 percent) of the student body at many of the most competitive schools, relative to their share of the general population, which is under 5 percent.

If the college admissions process was only based on grades and test scores — the percentage would be much higher.

Recent lawsuits by Asian American groups (one on behalf of rejected applicants) allege that Harvard and other elite schools are are using racial quotas to admit less qualified students and discriminating against Asian American candidates. Some college advisers are even suggesting that Asian American candidates vying for a spot in the Ivy League "appear less Asian," like dropping the violin for theater and taking up a contact sport instead of tennis.

Newly-minted Harvard grad Joey Kim is confounded by the advice. "Like a good Korean boy, I played the violin as well. And the fact that you have to hide something like being good at the violin or being good at math — these stereotypes that are normally attributed to Asians — the fact that they're playing against Asian Americans, I think it's truly unfortunate."

Kim appreciates the goal of affirmative action and agrees it has been needed to address historical biases. "The way I think about is much like an injured athlete who needs to use a crutch. Ideally we wouldn't need it, right? However due to the fact that socioeconomic status coincides with racial groups due to historical circumstances in this country, it is understandable that college admissions need to rely on this crutch."

But he says Asian American plaintiffs suing the Ivy League schools have the right to ask whether the crutch is still needed. "I think what we need to do right now is look at the specific numbers and ask admissions department if they're doing their job correctly."

For Kim the idea of minimizing his Asian identity is a non-starter because he spent so much of his childhood coming to terms with it. He was 8 and spoke no English when he arrived in the US with his family. His new home was a very white town in the middle of Indiana.

"It was tough being the only Asian kid in a sea of predominantly white children. It was not easy. I misunderstood instructions. I had trouble making friends." He said middle school was especially hard. "I was kind of ashamed of my Korean heritage at that point in my life. And then in high school I realized that life would be so much simpler if I just accepted who I am, as a Korean, if I just accepted my Korean heritage."

He came to look at himself differently: Instead of being pulled in two directions he could be a bridge between two cultures.

Growing up, his violin practice became a time for Kim to ruminate over having to navigate two cultures — with a mother who predominantly speaks Korean and a little sister who predominantly speaks English. And then there were the comments at high school.

"I wasn't getting blatant racism, but little comments that might, you know, make me feel a little uncomfortable." So during practice, Kim would have a conversations with himself and chew over each question.

He admits that he got from central Indiana to Harvard with a big dose of help from his parents, who emphasized achievement.

"Whenever I compare it with my white friends, my black friends or Latino friends, it can be a little bit different in that they're pushing me harder. At the time, I didn't really truly appreciate it. ... They told me 'Hey listen, you can do much better than this.' And that's something that did shape who I am today and I'm truly grateful for that."

Kim's immediate future is set. In September, he begins a job in management consulting with McKinsey & Company. But that's just the beginning. Down the line, he wants to create his own story. "I think what I truly want to do is probably start my own company at some point, you know, strike out on my own and maybe have the true American dream that I can make for myself."