How did an Asian guy end up as a strength coach?
My story is for the young Asian American kid that aspires to be a strength coach. I hope they hear what’s possible for them -- something I didn’t hear growing up.
A Little Background
I grew up in the suburbs of Monmouth County, New Jersey. My parents and grandparents immigrated to the U.S. from China and Taiwan. They spent most of their adult lives trying to build families, careers, and roots here in America.
We lived a relatively “standard” suburbia life. Like most suburbs, you had your affluent areas and your low-income areas, and we lived somewhere in the middle.
I was raised in a very American neighborhood with a very “Asian” upbringing.
The first language I learned was Mandarin, we never wore shoes in the house, we used chopsticks instead of forks, and my lunches didn’t look like the ham and cheese sandwiches of my peers. We were raised on the foundation that you need to work hard and try to excel at everything you do -- whether it be academics, sports, music, or school.
I grew up going to school with White, Black, Hispanic, and Middle Eastern kids, but there weren’t many other Asian kids. Sticking out as the only Asian person became pretty normal.
To counter-balance our White suburbia surroundings, my parents filled our weekends with Chinese school on Saturdays and Chinese church on Sundays. Weekends ended up being a security blanket for me.
I knew my weekends didn’t look the same as my peers, but going to the all Asian activities gave me a place to fit in. For two days out of the week I looked like everyone else around me.
“So, what exactly are you?”
Growing up, some common stereotypes I experienced were: your eyes look funny, you talk funny, you’re not supposed to be tall or athletic, all Asians are smart, you must be good at math, your race is timid, Asian people eat cats and dogs, all Asians look the same. The list could go on, but I’ll stop there.
I was given nicknames like “China” and “chopsticks” -- and worse names that made me feel like a zoo animal. As I got older the comments turned into, “Oh, you’re tall for an Asian” or; “You don’t look like a typical Asian” and; “Oh, you’re pretty normal for an Asian guy.”
Society and my peers taught me that it was “weird” to be Asian.
Can you name many prominent Asian figures? Jackie Chan? Bruce Lee? Yao Ming? Asian representation in sports, politics, and Hollywood are extremely low. If an Asian person does something worthy of notoriety it is an anomaly, not normality.
Hate crimes, brutality, and aggression against Asian people have all been swept under the rug -- you won’t find them making any news headlines. Racism has taught me that as an Asian American, I am not wanted here, I am still an outsider, and that my ethnicity will always be considered “the same” as every other Asian person because we all look alike.
Collegiate Athletics Strength and Conditioning
I currently work at the University of Illinois as an Assistant Strength and Conditioning Coach. This is the sixth university that I have worked at in my seven years of being in the field. During this time, I have worked with almost every sports team out there.
In seven years, I have worked with only ten other coaches and staff that are Asian.
In seven years, I’ve trained roughly 15-20 Asian student athletes total.
In seven years, I have worked with two strength coaches that are Asian.
I currently have two Asian baseball players that I work with -- that is double the amount of Asian baseball players I’ve worked with in the past seven years. I have yet to meet (and I hope there are some out there) a head strength coach that is Asian or an athletic director that is Asian.
Strength coaches already have pressure to “look the part” but in my experience it is even more so. I need to show that I am not a “stereotypical Asian,” but I am strong, athletic, and capable of being a leader. If I’m not looked at as the “big Asian guy” it’s assumed I need to fill the role as the “smart Asian guy.” I know many Asian athletes feel the same way. There is a stigma or bias already associated with them before they have even stepped foot on the field.
For many coaches and athletes that I’ve worked with, I am the first Asian person that they have known personally and worked alongside.
This is hard. It’s a truth I have shied away from because I was tired of being different. I now see it as an opportunity to share my perspective and experiences.
I love what I do. Being a coach gives me the opportunity to form relationships with coaches and athletes from all walks of life. I’ve been greatly impacted from the connections that I’ve formed and am extremely grateful for every coach, peer, and athlete that has shared their experience and wisdom with me.
My hope - and my intention for sharing my story - is that aspiring Asian strength coaches and athletes get even bigger and better opportunities.
My hope is that next time before you assume a stereotype, you’ll ask to hear someone’s story first.
My hope is that more Asian Americans will continue to use their voice -- in every arena and field.