The Unignorable Truth of the Asian American Wealth Gap
I was born in the suburbs of Louisville, Kentucky into a household headed by parents who immigrated from West Bengal, India to the United States. I was raised in affluence, and as a first-generation South Asian American, my experiences within the United States are marked by both cultural marginalization and socioeconomic advantage. I grew up listening to the stories of hardship and sacrifice my parents endured to get to the U.S., battling through accessibility blocks and systemic discrimination from the government, as well as racial bigotry and pretentious attitudes from their American neighbors. My parents always reminded me of why they endured these challenges; it allowed my sister and I to create lives for ourselves without the barriers they hurdled over.
Though my immense privilege in this world is a testament to what my parents worked for on my behalf, it does not negate my own experiences of societal marginalization. It did, however, shield me from the discriminatory realities of the U.S. socioeconomic system, leaving me ignorant to the truth of the “American Dream”. Specifically, regarding the dynamics between irreflective privilege and proximity to whiteness within the larger Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) community.
A recent trip to New York City brought these realizations to center stage. Whenever I visit the city, I am always reminded of the bustling streets in Kolkata, West Bengal, India, where my family is from. Though they are very different cities with distinguishable cultures, the thing that remained consistent was the sense of community, a proper neighborhood. While walking through Harlem, however, things felt astonishingly familiar. I began to recognize the distinct smells of Bengali food and a language that reminded me of home. I stumbled into a thriving and vibrant Bangladeshi neighborhood in the middle of the city. The community called to me in the way that anything desi (check out the meaning here), or indigenous to South/Southeast Asia, calls to me. However, there is a profound and unignorable difference between this Bangladeshi neighborhood and the Indian Bengali community that I grew up with, which can be attributed to the fact that Bangladesh and West Bengal, India are culturally distinct from one another.
For context, Bangladesh and West Bengal were once collectively known as the Bengal region. After the end of a near two-centuries long violent occupation of South Asia by the British, borders were drawn by the British in the region based on ethnicity and religion in the late 1900s. Today, West Bengal is a state of India and Bangladesh is a sovereign nation. The British were not only callous with land in all of Asia, but they were (and are) also single-handedly to blame for the social, political, and economic turmoil left behind that is consequential for Asian communities, even today both abroad and in the United States.
In my hometown of Tampa, Florida, my engagement with the Indian Bengali community was spent in opulent houses, temples, and cultural centers. These weekend gatherings occurred under the guise of ethnic and religious celebrations. In reality, they were riddled with grandstanding, gossip, and conversations regarding politics in a way only rich people do - like it’s a game, with no desire to create actual, tangible change.
The Harlem Bangladeshi neighborhood is a perfect foil for the Tampa Bengali Community. People were milling around the streets in comfortable clothing, children were playing, parents were talking and laughing loudly, and the air was thick with the cooking oils and spices of Bangladeshi food. It was a quintessential communal environment; the level of care people had towards one another was more breathtaking than any million-dollar mansion.
The Bengali community in the suburbs of Florida emphasized individualism, competition, and ingratiation into America’s capitalist society. Whereas in Harlem, the Bangladeshi community maintained the importance of collectivism even in the face of economic hardships, as responsibility to one another is central to living as a collective.
This experience shifted the axis of what I knew to be true about my own community. It also sprouted a deep sense of guilt and shame at the ignorance of my own privilege. I began to unravel what it means within myself, and in the broader context of the Asian American experience. See diaspora chart below.
The intention behind pointing out these discrepancies in values is not to simply criticize my community and move along, as these differences cannot be viewed in a vacuum. Learning to love my culture was a long but beautiful journey. I deeply struggled with internalized racism and the desire to fit in amongst my predominantly white peers at school. The journey was worthwhile, though, as I began to intentionally connect and learn more about myself and my history. Nevertheless, this does not absolve my beloved community of critique – especially when it comes to affluence and privilege.
The flagrant wealth gap and the choice to keep status over community are only a fraction of the enduring impact of colonialism. When western entities occupied parts of Asia, there was a deliberate and systematic destruction of existing economic systems, and in its place new systems were set up to ensure colonial benefit. The repercussions of this are influential in both economic opportunities and migration patterns for people across the diaspora.
For example, during the occupation of India, mercenaries led by British military forces used violent tactics of assimilation to embed values of proximity to whiteness and white supremacy culture into Indian society. The now extinct British Empire’s primary settler hub in Asia was in India – specifically Kolkata, West Bengal. Following India’s victory against these forces, these values unfortunately did not vanish - rather it remained and spread like deadly mold. Wealth became the standard of worth, and because most of the wealth is held hostage by colonial entities, becoming proximal to those powers became key. Much of the immigrant population from India in America are skilled in careers that directly benefit western countries and their capitalist ventures. That said, these careers tend to be lucrative and provide stability to many Indian families who may not have had it before.
In contrast, when the people of Myanmar, or Burma, gained freedom from British terrorist groups, they were left with looted land and a broken economy. What was left became the foundation of Myanmar’s financial system today, which perpetuates internal conflict among varying Burmese ethnic groups that began at the behest of the British. Many Burmese Americans who immigrated to the U.S. came as refugees from these regional conflicts, and often arrive with fewer resources when compared to Indian immigrants, and consequently, these families endure greater economic challenges.
In its two hundred years of barbaric occupation, Britain brutally robbed India’s land and wealth with no intention of repayment, amounting up to nearly $45 trillion today. Even still, India's political, social, and economic systems are led by heavily indoctrinated politicians in the place of former occupiers, which can be seen in how the government of India is following in the nationalist and greedy footsteps of their former oppressors.
Don’t believe me? Here’s the evidence: According to the National Community Reinvestment Coalition, in 2021, the average Asian American household income was $101,418, 43% higher than the national average. Moreover, Indian American households had the highest average income at about $120,000, in comparison to Burmese American households which had the lowest average income at $44,000.
Both Myanmar and India gained independence in the late 1940s, and in 2021 we can see how deep the impact of colonial atrocities remains.
So, what now?
Naming the problem is the first step toward resolution. The AAPI community is riddled with generational trauma of colonial violence, and we must recognize that our shared history binds us together. We need to actively work towards dismantling the barriers that colonialism has left behind and strive for equity and inclusion. A few ways we can engage in this work include:
Talk to each other about legislation and mutual aid that can help address economic disparities.
Support organizations that work towards immigrant and refugee rights.
Provide educational resources and mentorship programs for underrepresented groups within the community.
Foster connections across AAPI communities.
Direct financial resources towards initiatives that promote economically disadvantaged groups.
These are just a few things that we can do to work towards a community built on authentically shared progress and equity, versus the manufactured and misleading “American Dream”.
I’ll leave you with this: Understanding our privilege is about leveraging it to create positive change.