photograph courtesy ashley insong
In Memphis, people always look at me twice,” says Mina Hong, a Korean-Canadian-American and teacher currently residing here.
The Cordova International Farmers Market is one of the few places in Memphis where I feel people won’t look at me twice. As I enter the market for the first time, I wonder if these familiar strangers feel what I feel. I wonder if they also feel like they exist in the “in-between.”
I see eyes that are smaller and slanted, and others that are rounder and more almond-shaped. Skin tones range from pale, to caramel, to brown. I walk past aisles of dragon fruit, milkfish, coconut juice, bok choy, shrimp shumai, jackfruit. The smell of fresh fish in the air is reminiscent of childhood trips on the city bus with my grandmother to Honolulu’s Chinatown. I see mangoes. I mean real mangoes — the sweeter, more authentic kind you actually want to eat. I find shelves full of ingredients that derive from cultures such as Korean, Chinese, Indian, Pakistani, Filipino, and Japanese. And I see — people like me.
Each visit to the market is a nostalgic journey through my Asian heritage. One that I am willing to experience over and over again. Where I truly feel a sense of home and belonging.
Though the Asian-American population in Memphis may have more to do with the city itself and its progress as a whole, one day, we want to be able to walk around Memphis without being looked at twice.
I come from Hawaii, islands where Asians and Pacific Islanders make up more than half of the population and diversity is seen on every corner, in almost every face. I wasn’t prepared for the shock and the isolation that I began to feel as an Asian American Pacific Islander (AAPI) in the South, better yet, an AAPI in Memphis. Unlike San Francisco, New York City, Honolulu, Las Vegas, Houston, and Seattle, where AAPIs blend evenly into the mix, with their Chinatowns and authentic and easily-accessible Asian food restaurants and markets everywhere, Memphis is still working towards breaking out of its homogeneity.
According to a 2021 article in The New York Times titled “Inside the Diverse and Growing Asian Population in the U.S.,” the United States Census Data shows that the Asian population in Shelby County was around 3 percent. (This includes Indians, Chinese, Vietnamese, Filipino, Korean, Cambodian, Japanese, and Pakistani.)
By comparison, data also show that within the past three decades, the Asian population in the United States has almost tripled, and “Asians are now the fastest-growing of the nation’s four largest racial and ethnic groups.” In spite of that, the Asian population in Tennessee remains well below 5 percent — and the Pacific Islander population in Memphis is even lower than that.
Though some would argue that AAPI diversity has grown within Memphis through, for example, the growing numbers of Asian restaurants, markets, and more, access to authentic AAPI culture is within reach only if you stretch a little.
“Whenever my mom cooks a Vietnamese meal and we go grocery shopping together, we have to go to three or four different Asian or ‘exotic’ markets just to get all the ingredients,” says Melissa Dinh, a local Memphian and proud Vietnamese American.
Dinh is currently a writing teacher whose mother immigrated to Memphis from Vietnam when she was just 15. As a child, she slowly began to disconnect from her culture after being enrolled in American schools, where she was mocked by other kids for the foreign sound of her native tongue. It started with teasing of her language, and then her food, and continued with the stereotype of putting all Asian subgroups into one large group. “Other kids used to call me Chinese or asked me if I brought cat or dog for lunch,” says Dinh.
With the lack of AAPI representation in Memphis comes a widespread lack of knowledge. Sometimes that lack of knowledge and awareness can lead to ignorance and a shortage of understanding. It’s always difficult to be different and nobody likes feeling like the “odd-one-out,” but moments of misunderstanding are opportunities for educating others and embracing one’s individuality.
“As I got older, and now as an adult, I’ve learned that it’s okay to be different,” explains Dinh. “It’s a beautiful thing.”
For Dinh, it was the lack of knowledge that others had for her culture. For Hong, it was walking into a room full of people and noticeably being the only Asian there. For me, it was all of that plus the melancholic glory of finding places in Memphis where I could truly access my culture. One thing that we three have in common is that as proud Asian-American teachers, we are more than willing to educate others about who we are and where we come from.
The Cordova International Farmers Market is only a stepping-stone to the growth of Asian representation and international representation in Memphis, but we are still looking towards the day that the Bluff City becomes more culturally accessible. It can start with simply educating children in Memphis schools about Asian culture and opening more Asian or international markets that provide a wider range of foods and ingredients that aren’t just in a grocer’s “oriental” or “international” section. Asians deserve more than just an aisle in an American grocery store or one or two bubble tea cafés with no apparent Asian staff members.
Though the Asian-American population in Memphis may have more to do with the city itself and its progress as a whole, one day, we want to be able to walk around Memphis without being looked at twice.
Ashley Insong is a starving artist who is working toward being published in The New York Times while teaching full-time and freelance writing part-time. She enjoys singing and writing poetry and short stories about love, self-discovery, and her Filipina heritage.
