By: Yimei Wu
After a whole semester of being an apathetic-asian, it’s time for me to break into asian-activism mode again.
It was blizzardly freezing that afternoon when I finished classes, and North Campus dorms seemed such a chilly walk away. I remembered there being some Asian American Student Union (AASU) meeting that day, so I figured I’d sit through the thing and hitch myself a free ride back to North Campus.
I poked my head into the AASU office and eight pairs of eyes gave me a “who-the-heck” stare. Little did I know, I’d stumbled into one of AASU’s first planning meetings for the FUEL2k1 conference. As I burrowed into a couch, the FUEL2k1 committee explained why they were having this conference, topics to present, and who had to do what. I yawned and wondered who had a car.
However, the leader started asking everyone in the room to express their views. I participated, and tried to sound “into it”. But after a while, I began to feel like my opinion mattered. By the end of the meeting, FUEL2k1 had a new volunteer director. I was so excited that I forgot why I came originally, and trudged back in the cold, cold, night.
In the second meeting, the committee was depressed because only fifteen people had registered for the the conference when we expected 200 by the deadline--merely weeks away. The leaders were grim and everyone spent two hours planning a modified conference. Tension in that room was so thick that I just knew I was breathing waaay too loudly. The other faces wore such downcast expressions I felt like a traitor when I accidentally smiled.
It was a laborious three hours, but our faculty advisor at one point reminded us to think what’s best for the community. We had to stop the fear of losing AASU’s credibility override the impact we wanted this conference to have on our people in our decisions. Many members of the FUEL2k1 committee had already made sacrifices for the planning of the conference; grades, social life, and countless hours. Two people had even sent out 800 personal emails to schools all over the East Coast. And now we had to decide if the show could go on.
As I sat in mounting claustrophobia, it was my turn to talk.
I blurted that they were thinking too much about the backup. I said we had to concentrate on recruiting if we really wanted people to come; I was positive we could get people and was one of two members who voted to keep the conference as planned. When I went home, the leader’s words echoed in my mind, “If this thing doesn’t work, it’s OUR fault. If we really cared, each of us could get our 10 asian friends to come to this and we’d have our hundred...”
I was gripped with sudden dread; what if I’d underestimated the people-problem? Did I even have 10 asian friends who’d go? But it was too late to reclaim my words; if they decided to keep the conference as planned, I’d have to prove I could talk big, live it up, and bring in those people.
The next day, they sent word out to go full-fledged for the conference-- as it was.
That week I was glued to email, AIM conversations, and madly recruiting. I talked about FUEL2k1 until it became a household word. I’m sure the parents probably thought FUEL2k1 was a cult.
In the next meeting, we had logistics concerns, but we were able to work through decisions based on a mentality I sensed was “everything for the good of the Asian community.” Now that was inspiring. No one was throwing their weight around, barking orders, or just there for a title. We all wanted to give this our 110%.
This differed from my high school asian-involvement. I had been president of two asian organizations. I remembered having huge “visions” at the beginning of the year, only to crumble into complacency by the end.
In one club, the other officers honestly admitted they didn’t give a whack about having members or activities. “We’re only here for our college application,” was one officer’s blatant confession. For that reason, our school had four of the same club--so everyone could be president.
In another club, the officers were obsessed. We were torn with inner conflicts, ego-battling, and get this, an actual bureaucracy. Except everyone felt too important to do grunt work, so our bureaucracy sat around pretending.
I felt like a fraud because our organizations failed to make a difference for the people we were founded to serve, and it was probably my fault.
Perhaps it’s partly in guilt that I continued to seek out asian-activism, hoping to come across the real thing.
My part in the FUEL2k1 committee is a whole new experience. Everyone is respectful of individual opinions and willing to work toward a vision. I have lots of grunt work, but everyone does, for the success of FUEL2k1. I am confident we’ll pull it off despite doubts that make breathing difficult at meetings. When everyone humbles themselves to serve, the more we want our own grunt work to pay off, and I believe we will reach our common goal.
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Yimei Wu, freshman business major
yimei@wam.umd.edu
For more info or to register for the FUEL2k1 conference, go to http://fuel2k1.cjb.net