The Healing Power of Telling Your Story
Why Embracing Your Voice Matters
By Sylvia Yu Friedman, award-winning Penguin Random House Author, TV Host, Keynote Speaker and Advisor to Ultra High Net Worth families.
This essay is an excerpt from Fearless: A Guide to Freedom and Fulfilling Your Fullest Potential, published with permission from Penguin Random House SEA.
During my teens, a lack of Asian role models in the media made me feel worse about my appearance. I struggled with feeling invisible and my body dysmorphia flared up. There were times I simply believed I was ugly and inferior and that only Caucasian girls embodied the ultimate standard of beauty.
For a teen girl, that’s a devastating belief, and it wreaked havoc on my emotions and confidence. And yet, there were times when I received a lot of attention and special treatment for being a ‘pretty girl’. I knew how to wield this power over the boys when I needed a ride, computer support or immediate help at a store.
Still, for the most part, I thought my eyes were too small, my nose too flat, and I would have happily traded my features for those of my Caucasian friends. I wished I had blonde hair and blue eyes and in senior high school, I even used colour contacts to change my irises to a light bluish grey.
I was full of contradictions.
Had I grown up seeing more Asians on TV and in the media in general, my life might well have turned out very different. When I was hooked on hip-hop dancing at sixteen, I longed to be African–American and wore little braids in my hair. I watched the fluid poetry of my African–Canadian friend Michelle’s dance moves with envy and wondered why I couldn’t move as naturally as her. Sadly, I wanted to be like everyone else—anyone, that is, other than me.
It was a hollow feeling and stemmed from a lack of confidence in who I was. I was like a jellyfish, with no backbone and no sense of self. There’s a scientific basis for why teenagers are desperate to fit in and feel anxious when they are not part of the ‘in crowd’. According to the Stanford Medicine Children’s Health Organization, the rational part of the human brain isn’t fully developed until around twenty-five.
As we grow into adulthood, our brains undergo significant changes in the way we process information. Adults tend to use the prefrontal cortex, the rational part of the brain, to think and make decisions. However, in teenagers, the amygdala, which is responsible for emotional behaviour and motivation, is more active. This difference in brain function explains why teenagers often experience emotional turmoil, impulsivity, social anxiety, and poor judgement. Understanding these neural underpinnings is crucial for parents, educators, and mental health professionals in supporting and guiding teenagers through this challenging phase of their development.
In my twenties and thirties, I often joked that I was a white person trapped in a Korean body—a ‘banana’ or ‘twinkie’—white on the inside, yellow on the outside.
I was twenty-five when my dear friend Felicity’s Korean–Canadian husband Morris mentioned feeling trapped in a ‘Korean person’s body’. He had suffered mortifying incidents of racial discrimination while growing up in all-White schools. I thought it was the most apt description of how I had felt growing up, so I adopted Morris’s phrase and used it liberally. I wanted to take the sting out of the racial abuse I had endured. It truly conveyed how I didn’t want to be Korean. I didn’t want to be different from the herd in my childhood.
Where Are You Really From?
From an early age, I was asked by both friends and strangers, ‘Where are you from?’
When I would respond that I was Canadian, there would be the inevitable follow-up question, ‘No, where are you really from?’
It was extremely painful to hear that word ‘really’, as if I were not a bona fide Canadian. It gave me that ‘in-between’ feeling that I wasn’t entirely accepted as a Korean by South Koreans nor as a Canadian by Caucasian Canadians. This sentiment of never entirely fitting in, of being stranded in the middle, has helped sensitize me to those struggling for acceptance and the oppressed—asylum seekers and refugees, minorities, and victims of racial and sexual discrimination.
But it wasn’t until my late twenties that I understood the importance of knowing one's identity more deeply. I'll never forget the words of Professor Edward Chang, founding director of the Young Oak Kim Centre at UC Riverside, at a conference I once attended: ‘If you don’t know your identity, then you cannot know your destiny and purpose in life.’
I thought about his words for a long time, wondering how one found one’s identity. Culture, society, family, the people around us, our experiences and memories, the events we witness, the environment that shapes us—all these things help form our view of ourselves and where we fit in the world. Recognizing this and getting to know ourselves is critical because it shapes our choices and influences our relationships and every aspect of our lives. And as with many journeys of understanding, this one must begin in our past.
Processing Pain
It was not until years later, in my twenties, that I came to appreciate the value of looking back. To my surprise, I was hired at a local newspaper and then recruited to work at the Canadian public broadcaster, CBC. I heard whispers of resentment from a handful of Caucasian colleagues and bosses about more diversity hires and I wondered if I had been given the job simply for being Asian.
It was the first time being different was a perceived advantage, yet it also put me on edge. I overcompensated and worked twice as hard as the rest to prove that I belonged there because of my talent and hard work. I was afraid people would accuse me of getting a free ride. Other minority journalists told me that they too drove themselves harder to shut down the resentful critics.
A turning point in my identity crisis came when I was working as an executive editor at Ricepaper, an Asian Canadian arts and culture magazine envisioned as a platform for Asian authors, artists, and emerging voices who were underrepresented in the mainstream. A well-known community organizer and author, Jim Wong-Chu asked me to consider taking on the role and I accepted. I was working full-time at the CBC, yet something special about this magazine—more like a newsletter at the time, stapled together and assembled in a basement—compelled me to take on the role.
Though I had no idea how to edit a magazine or assemble a team, I quickly brought on board talented editors Angela and Yen and later designers and more writers. We talked about our experiences with racism as the only Asian kids in class—something we had not discussed with anyone.
I was surprised they had gone through the same things I had. They were also asked the dreaded question, ‘Where are you really from?’ and we included this in one of the magazine's issues to foster more discussion. It felt gratifying and highly empowering to be heard and to write about our collective pain while promoting other Asian–Canadian artists, activists and writers. It helped immensely to process our experiences together.
Again, there is a scientific basis for this. According to Psychology Today,
“Every time you tell your story and someone else who cares bears witness to it, you turn off the body's stress responses, flipping off toxic stress hormones like cortisol and epinephrine and flipping on relaxation responses that release healing hormones like oxytocin, dopamine, nitric oxide, and endorphins. Not only does this turn on the body’s innate self-repair mechanisms and function as preventative medicine – or treatment if you’re sick. It also relaxes your nervous system and helps heal your mind of depression, anxiety, fear, anger, and feelings of disconnection.”
Who knew? From this I have learned that it’s vital to have a group of friends to remind you of your worth and purpose. Don’t ever let the critics get you down. I was not alone and that was a profound lesson.
As part of my identity search, I volunteered for Asian Heritage Month in Vancouver, a series of events celebrating Asian artists, writers, and culture in the month of May in 2000. A few years later, I launched the first Asian Heritage Month in Victoria, B.C., a predominantly Caucasian city, after moving there to work as a news reporter and host of a lifestyle programme at a TV station. It was an incredible experience to spotlight Asians and their achievements.
Several Asian–Canadian friends and those of mixed heritage told me how they felt a real sense of belonging for the first time. New connections were forged and some of them became life-long friends. My good friend Dorothy met her husband Yin through one of these events. She brought the community together by hosting unforgettable dinners at her home.
This month of celebrating Asian culture is now a big deal in the West. Companies are embracing it and bringing in speakers to raise awareness about the importance of appreciating and respecting cultural diversity.
Today, the Greater Vancouver region is vastly different from when I was coming of age. Back then, new immigrants were a relatively rare phenomenon. Now, more than half of Vancouver is made up of ethnic minorities. In the past decade or so, a growing resentment has been simmering towards wealthy mainland Chinese who snap up properties as investments rather than as somewhere to live. This has caused property prices to soar and squeezed young families who must move further out into smaller cities with cheaper homes. Sometimes, this frustration boils over in the form of racial slurs directed at anyone who looks Asian—whether they are from China, Hong Kong, Korea or elsewhere.
During the pandemic, there was a spike in violence and hate crimes directed at Asians in North America, particularly towards young Asian women who were physically attacked by mostly larger Caucasian men. In a 2021 Pew Research Centre survey, 32 per cent of Asian Americans, more than any other ethnic group, feared someone might threaten or attack them and 27 per cent of Asians in the U.S., more than other groups, said they had been told to go back to their home country.
The glimmer of hope that has come out of this tragedy is that it has helped mobilize Asians to speak out in the West and brought them together as a community in unprecedented ways. Asian immigrants in the West are usually stereotyped as being ‘model minorities’, and the myth is they’re successful with little to no need for social or economic support and they’re nice, obedient, and hard-working.
Often, our pain leads to our greatest contributions. That’s true for Gina Wong, the founder of the Asian Gold Ribbon campaign, a social change platform taking a stand against anti-Asian hate and racism. We had a Zoom conversation before the campaign in May 2022, and I felt an immediate connection with her over our shared childhood experiences. Gina and I commiserated over our scars from growing up as the only Asian girls in our schools and neighbourhoods.
She visibly recoiled as she recounted being called ‘China girl’ in her teens. It was the title of a well-known David Bowie song. I was called the same and empathized with how she initially responded by rejecting her Chinese heritage. I surprised myself by breaking down and sobbing during a video interview for the campaign with Gina and Samantha Louie-Poon. They asked brilliant questions and were incredibly empathic. In the interview, I reflected on feeling alone during my identity crisis and how I’d had no one to process the pain with. It was my first time speaking publicly about this childhood trauma. At first, when I watched the interview, I was incredibly embarrassed. But later, I was buoyed by the thought that my on-screen vulnerability might have been exactly what someone out there needed so they would know they were not alone.
If I’d had an Asian Gold Ribbon campaign to join when I was younger, I might have embraced my cultural identity a lot sooner. I admire Gina for turning her challenges into something powerful by uniting a group in the fight against racial discrimination. That campaign sent a message that we Asians deserve respect and equal treatment. When we celebrate our culture and tell our stories, we show through our actions how inclusion, acceptance, and understanding can build a stronger society.
Here are some words of advice to help you tell your story effectively and impactfully:
Mine and explore your personal experiences by reflecting on any remarkable moments in your life, such as a watershed experience or a big mistake. Consider how these experiences made you feel and what lessons you learned. The cringier, the better. Remember, the more embarrassing the experience, the more powerful your story can be.
When crafting a story, think about the message you want to convey. Be honest—warts and all—including both positive and negative aspects.
Use quotes, data, and visuals that are relevant to your message to make it stronger.
Before sharing your story with the world, seeking feedback from a trusted friend is helpful.
Remember that your story and experiences can help and inspire others like nothing else. As the American author of Return to Love Marianne Williamson said, “As we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence actually liberates others.”
Sylvia Yu Friedman is a Director at a global private equity firm that provides advisory services to prominent family offices in Asia and across the globe. She works at the intersection of finance, Hollywood and specializes in brokering deals within the professional sports industry. Her firm is involved in the growing finance hub between Dubai, Singapore/ SE Asia and South Asia.
Since 2005, Sylvia has spearheaded philanthropic initiatives for some of the world’s wealthiest families. Her pioneering investigations into the dark underworld of sex trafficking and modern-day slavery for two decades – often at risk to her own life – have shattered barriers and charted a course for a new generation of philanthropists and activists.
In Hollywood and Singapore, a producing team, including the showrunners of the hit show, NCIS, is developing a TV series based on Sylvia's life and memoir, "A Long Road to Justice."
Additionally, she is a Luminary Thinker for the RedBoxMe ideas platform, a collaboration with Cartier. Favikon has recognised her influence, ranking her as one of the Top 10 LinkedIn Creators in Hong Kong, and she holds the #6 spot.
An accomplished author, Sylvia has written six books, including her latest book, "Fearless: A Guide to Freedom and Fulfilling Your Fullest Potential.”