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API Youth Conference Rocks My World

When I applied for the Asian Pacific Youth Leadership Project (APYLP) a few months ago, I had no idea it would be an experience of a lifetime. For all I knew, the four-day conference was probably structured like summer camp — except that here there was no fee, all participants would stay in hotel rooms instead of cabins, and everyone would be API instead of the usual handful. I figured I’d learn something in exchange for missing two days of school before finals. But the program’s broad title may as well have hinted at a weekend packed with lame ice breakers, weary speakers, and workshops titled “Self-Confidence, the Key to Leadership” or “Asian Pride, Is It In You?” Despite my skepticism, I spent an entire morning on the essay part of the application because, frankly, if selected, I could at least add APYLP to my college resume, whether or not it turned out to be a good experience. I was accepted and left school before spring break started.

Maybe it was the friendly bus driver who asked if Rose (my friend and schoolmate who was also accepted into the program) and I were sisters. Maybe it was because I woke from my nap on the ride up feeling disoriented while Ray Peterson’s eerie voice on the verge of tears in Tell Laura I Love Her drifted from my awkwardly positioned headphones. It could have been the mayonnaise in the sandwich I had for lunch. Whatever it was, when I arrived in Sacramento on Thursday afternoon, I knew the conference wasn’t going to be what I had previously expected.

I was relieved when we got to the hotel and entered the room where most of the participants were already waiting because everyone seemed to be very out-going. When we made introductions later on, it became apparent that amongst the participants, being a class or student body officer, editor-in-chief of the school paper, or the chair of several clubs was nothing to boast about, but merely matter-of-fact.

I didn’t have much trouble staying awake through most of the speeches, and I was really impressed by the fact that a good number of the speakers either flew in or drove several hours at their own expense to deliver a speech to a group of teenagers. Growing up Asian, I never received a lot of praise, but after witnessing the dedication of the speakers and advisors, I felt really special.

The workshops turned out to be practical. There was one on community organizing and public speaking. (I’m just grateful I didn’t go all the way to Sacramento to learn how to type the proper heading on a resume!) The mock legislature in the state capitol was my favorite part of the conference. I was assigned to present the bill that would allow prayer time in public schools. As a voter, I probably wouldn’t support my own bill. Even so, my co-author and I almost managed to get our Education Committee to pass it, if only the senators in the committee had listened to the committee chair. The fate of some of the bills presented to all 49 “senators” on the senate floor was somewhat surprising. The affirmative action bill didn’t pass, and the bill making abortion for women under the age of 21 illegal without parental authorization failed by only a close margin.

The dance that took place later that night was my second favorite part of the conference. Everyone, including the advisors, got down and boogied. All we lacked was a campfire when the advisors got together at the front of the room and sang That’s What Friends Are For.

The first people to leave for home on Sunday were headed for Southern California. Though only a few people shed tears, I have an inkling that I wasn’t the only one crying on the inside.

Brotherhood and sisterhood is not a feeling that can be described on paper. I realize now that no lengthy description written about APYLP would have prepared me for everything I experienced during those four days. As diverse as San Francisco is, I met Hmong Americans for the first time in my life. I ate Hawaiian pizza at a Hawaiian restaurant. I practiced the correct way of pronouncing Nguyen and Samoa. I learned “Konglish.” I said things without worrying about sounding politically correct, things that might have come off offensively or racist before a non-API forum.

A key point throughout the conference was that even though APIs make up 10.3 percent of California’s population, we continue to be underrepresented. The conference did not make me want to become a politician, mainly because I had never aspired to be one. However, I left with a new sense of urgency. The need to take action and to contribute in getting laws passed that would benefit the API community will continue to tug at my heart.