When I helped move her to a smaller place after Jiji died, I saw so many interesting objects and asked her about those too. I realized that these objects—each with its own story and significance—were portals into my grandmother's past. Suitcases and passports telling of her journey to America, old photos revealing her tales from college. Each one of these artifacts held memories that deserved to be preserved and shared.
I began taking pictures of each object and writing down the history behind them. Eventually this evolved into an Instagram account I called, “The Asian American Decentralized Museum.” My goal was to immortalize my grandma’s story, each post being like a small museum exhibit. I started with her passport from the 50s, when she was a teenager traveling to America for the first time. The passport felt like the perfect place to begin. In many ways, it represented an experience that changed her life forever: an 18 year old Japanese girl, just a decade after WWII, crossing the pacific to a country that had been her nation’s enemy only years before. The stamps inside told their own story of crossing both literal and cultural boundaries. The passport serves as proof of my own family’s American story—a story that would eventually lead to my existence. As I continued to produce these mini exhibits, I went beyond the more narrow scope of focusing on my personal background, and expanded to all Asian-American identities. Through follower submissions, I posted bracelets and pendants from the cultural revolution in China; a Filipino Christmas ornament made of Capiz shell, a common oyster found there; and a framed newspaper article highlighting two sisters’ journey to become lawyers as Korean immigrants. I was able to tell not only my family’s story, but others in my community too.
The histories in my project are not the kind that is taught in school, or appear in textbooks. Rather, it’s a more personal perspective, one that highlights the emotional, lived experiences of individuals and their families. In history classes, the themes that we explore, like immigration or war, often prioritize a more comprehensive understanding while overlooking the more nuanced stories that shape people's lives. I hope to fill those gaps by challenging what we consider “relevant” history. To me, the personal impact of an event is just as important as its larger context. The stories in the Asian American Decentralized Museum deserve to be remembered alongside the larger historical narratives.
Ever since the 60s, when the U.S. reopened their doors to Asian immigration, Asian Americans have often been dissolved into the background of White America. As a group, we are profiled into “lacking presence” or “taking up apologetic space,” and left questioning the validity of our own identities. The AADM isn’t just a way to share objects--it’s a way to affirm that Asian American stories matter. By telling these personal stories, I hope to create a sense of pride and belonging within the Asian American community, honoring each individual experience and making it known that they deserve to be shared and preserved. In a world where Asian Americans are so often labeled as quiet and obedient, storytelling becomes an act of resistance. Each artifact we share defies erasure and invisibility, ensuring that our stories have a rightful place in history.