Jan 22, 2025
On Martin Luther King Jr. Day, we reflect on the powerful legacy of a man who dedicated his life to challenging systemic inequalities and advocating for a society where people of all backgrounds could thrive together. MLK’s dream was a world where individuals would “not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” But more than that, it was a dream of inclusion—a world where everyone could feel that their presence, their culture, and their identity were valued. While significant strides have been made in the pursuit of this dream, the reality of feeling excluded, or “othered,” remains a challenge for many, particularly those whose cultural identities don’t fit the dominant societal mold.
I vividly remember being the only Asian family on our block. My mom, one of the few working mothers at my school, often had to navigate a different set of expectations. While her work ethic was respected, it was also viewed through a lens of “otherness.” There were moments when people, perhaps out of kindness, would give us a “free pass”—assuming that, as immigrants, we didn’t fully grasp certain social norms or traditions. In those moments, it was clear that they thought they understood our cultural differences better than we did. What they failed to recognize was that we understood much more than they gave us credit for—we were simply navigating the nuances of two worlds, not one.
The microaggressions, often disguised as compliments, were harder to shake off. I’d hear comments like, “You’re so pretty for an Asian,” or “You’re so articulate for someone from your background.” These remarks, though perhaps said with no ill intent, cut deeper than they realized. They served as constant reminders that I wasn’t quite the same as everyone else, making me question my worth and the validity of my experiences.
The impact of constantly feeling different—of being reminded that your identity doesn’t quite fit the mold—has a deep psychological toll. Over time, I realized that being treated as “other” can weigh heavily on self-esteem. As children, we are highly impressionable, and social validation is crucial to our development. Growing up while trying to reconcile my identity with a world that didn’t always accept me created a tension between wanting to fit in and needing to honor my own cultural uniqueness.
While I was fortunate to eventually find a sense of belonging—whether through connecting with others who shared my background or learning to embrace the beauty of my differences—not everyone has that opportunity. For many, the emotional weight of “otherness” can manifest in feelings of inadequacy, anxiety, or a sense of invisibility. We end up questioning our worth, our place in society, and whether we are truly seen for who we are.
Sadly, the feeling of being “othered” is not unique to my experience. It is something that many people of color, immigrants, and marginalized groups continue to grapple with daily. Whether it’s in the workplace, at school, or in social settings, the subtle and not-so-subtle cues of exclusion still persist. These feelings of alienation can impact our mental health, causing us to internalize doubts about our value or place in society.
But the broader lesson here, and one that MLK’s life and legacy can remind us of, is that this “otherness” doesn’t have to define us. The struggle for inclusion isn’t just a fight for visibility—it’s a fight for affirmation, for dignity, and for the recognition that every person, regardless of background, is equally important. As we work toward a more inclusive society, it’s important to address the emotional and psychological impacts of feeling like an outsider. We must create spaces where people of all identities feel safe, seen, and valued.