The Importance of Representation and Trust

A personal reflection in honor of AANHPI Heritage Month

I am grateful to Bronson for giving me the space to share a deeply personal story—especially during Asian American, Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander (AANHPI) Heritage Month. It’s a time that invites us to reflect, recognize and celebrate the diversity within the AANHPI community. Our experiences are not all the same. By sharing mine, I hope to help more people understand the richness and complexity of our stories.

As a first-generation Vietnamese American, I’ve carried the complexity of belonging – not always feeling fully at home in the Vietnamese community, yet also aware of being seen as “other” in other spaces. These layered experiences shape how I think about identity, trust and how we show up for each other. My family emigrated to the United States in 1980 following the Viet Nam* War, and AANHPI Heritage Month is deeply personal to me. It’s a time to reflect on the diverse stories and lived experiences that shape the AANHPI community. Our identities are wide-ranging, with histories, cultures and needs that are not all the same. This is especially true within the Vietnamese diaspora, where families like mine carry stories shaped by war, migration and rebuilding life in a new country, often while navigating language barriers, cultural misunderstandings and moments of discrimination.

In my role within marketing technology and analytics, I think often about how data, content and digital experiences can reflect – or overlook – the communities we serve. The way we structure information, tell stories and measure impact has real-world consequences. Representation isn’t just about what we say. It’s about who we show, how we show them and whether we’re fostering understanding or reinforcing barriers.

I’ve seen the importance of this firsthand. When my mom was in critical care, my dad and I overheard a Vietnamese family in the hallway. We introduced ourselves and visited with their father, who was preparing for bypass surgery. I watched how effortlessly my dad carried the conversation in Vietnamese – offering reassurance, humor and familiarity. That simple connection brought visible comfort to someone facing a vulnerable moment.

At the long-term care facility where my mom now resides, another Vietnamese family noticed that she was a resident. After speaking with us, they shared that they had been hesitant about placing their loved one there. But hearing about our experience gave them more confidence that their mother would be understood and treated with respect.

At the same time, I’ve witnessed barriers that still need to be addressed. When my dad was hospitalized, some staff would speak to me instead of him, assuming he wouldn’t understand because his English wasn’t perfect. I had to remind them to direct their care and questions to him. On another occasion, a Vietnamese nurse cared for him and treated him with compassion and dignity. That shared understanding made a difference in how my dad experienced his care.

These experiences have strengthened my desire to be a thoughtful voice and advocate for the AANHPI community, particularly through the lens of the work I do every day. Whether it’s through data-informed decision-making, improving the visibility of underrepresented stories or building tools that help people feel seen and understood, I want to ensure our communications reflect the real people and experiences behind the numbers.

This is a form of leadership: advocating from within my role, using my skills to help shape systems that better serve people. It’s rooted in the resilience I’ve seen in my family and across the AANHPI community – the strength to overcome barriers, create connection and help others feel like they belong.

*Note: I’ve used “Viet Nam” instead of “Vietnam.” Both are correct. The one-word version is more common in English, especially among those of us in the Vietnamese diaspora. I chose to use Viet Nam because it’s closer to how the name appears in the Vietnamese language and feels like a small but meaningful way to honor my family’s roots and the journey that brought us here.