Ï㽶ÊÓƵ

Alizah: I think I was scared to sleep in that room. I was definitely not going to sleep in grandma's room. That was a non-negotiable. I'll take the haunted room, but I'm not going to sleep in grandma's room.

Kesaia: That's so funny.

Alizah: I just want to welcome everyone back to "Bundle of Hers" podcast. If you're a first-time listener, we are so grateful to have you tuning in. Today, we have Kesaia, who is my cousin. She is remarkably intelligent and incredibly talented at school. It's honestly a little unfair. I want you to be able to introduce yourself because to me you're the mentor and goddess of all things knowledge and family. Please go ahead.

Kesaia: Alizah, you are too kind. The podcasters can't see, but I'm blushing. Hello, everyone. I'm Kesaia. I'm an undergraduate student at the Ï㽶ÊÓƵ of Utah. I'm studying biology and biochemistry and planning to graduate this summer. My plans for my career include medicinal chemistry.

Alizah: Woof. I'm Alizah. I'm supposed to be the host on this show. And my plan is to get through Step 1. That's my hopes and career aspirations.

Kesaia: Valid.

Alizah: And just before we begin, I want to say all of our thoughts and ideas are solely ours and do not represent or are in no way a reflection of the Ï㽶ÊÓƵ of Utah.

Migration Challenges

So today is my identity episode. I just got nauseated saying that. I don't know. I get really nervous when people get to know me because I feel like I kind of just open up and I'm like, "Okay, this is me." And I get kind of scared. I don't know why. It's, I guess, being vulnerable. That's what this is. I'm scared to be vulnerable, and I just said it out loud.

But as I was considering my identity, I was like, "Okay, how do I want the 'Bundle of Hers' podcast to know me?" I was like, "The best way to know me is to know the people I love and to know people that are similar to me," because that's what it is for me. This is all about community. This is all about the people.

And so that's why I've invited Kesaia to be here, because I feel like in many ways we are mirror images of each other, or at least I like to think so. I like to think that I look like and am smart enough to be Kesaia.

But another thing I think about Kesaia and I, especially our family, is that there's this theme of compassionate ambition, this term that I've kind of come up with, where there's a fierce commitment to excellence that vehemently denies individualism and originates in community betterment.

And so it's all for the betterment and edification of others. It's a fierce belief that it can be done to together, right? There's no need to be valedictorian because we can do it as one.

And so I just want to start off, Kesaia, talking about our migrant legacy. Our parents are siblings, my dad, your mom. But your dad also immigrated, right? There's the Akau family migrant legacy. And I'm interested to know how our grandparents, or both sets of your grandparents, how their sacrifice to immigrate here or your dad's sacrifice to immigrate here has kind of shown it up in your life as you pursue school and the American dream, so to call it.

Kesaia: Yeah, that's a good question. I think the legacy shows up in the responsibility I think that both me and you carry, bearing our family names and their legacy going into fields where we are not commonly represented. And it is a heavy burden, I think, but it's also exciting to be able to do this for our family and to represent them.

Family Expectations and Personal Aspirations

Alizah: It is heavy. And I think I don't think about that because when you're . . . I don't know. I call it the mafana spirit, right? When you're in these spaces, you just have a good time and you're really good at connecting with other people.

But it is heavy and I don't think people quite understand it, or at least in the spaces that we are in, because it's very niche to have, I think, immigrant parents, but then to have immigrant parents from a South Pacific island where literally everyone knows everyone, right?

It's not even small town. We're talking tiny, tiny. So everyone knows everyone. And that even bleeds I think into America outside of Tonga because everybody knows everybody, so now we know everybody who's in America, right? There are only like 100,000 of us, so we can keep tabs.

But it's heavy because you're in this field, and there's not a ton of women in medicine. There's not a ton of Tongan women in medicine. There's not a ton of Tongan women whose parents immigrated. And so it's like, "Wait, this is my community, this science community, but nobody shares the same responsibility." It's heavier.

Kesaia: It is heavy. It's also isolating, I think, too.

Alizah: How have you dealt with . . . because it's terrible. Tell me what that looks like for you.

Kesaia: It's terrifying, truly. I think it's scary to me because I'm worried that if I mess up, then that will reflect on my family. Or if I won't make it, that will reflect on my family.

But something that I found comfort in is finding mentors who belong to other minority groups, such as women and people of color. And so finding mentors who can relate to me in that identity has been comforting.

Alizah: When I think about . . . and this is terrible. It might be something I need to figure out with my therapist, but when I'm so tired or I'm like, "Nobody here gets me," when I just feel so isolated and alone, I think about . . . I mean, my dad was 16 when he immigrated here. How old was your mom? Because your mom is younger than my dad.

Kesaia: Yeah, I think she was 9 or 10. Very young. I still think 16 is very young too.

Alizah: Yeah. I'm like, "Okay. Well, if my dad can move to the United States of America from Tonga, not knowing English and not knowing pretty much anything or about anyone, I think I can put in four more hours of studying." That's how I frame it. Does that ever appear in your study psyche? How you think about approaching school, does it come into play a lot?

Kesaia: I'm always reminded, I think, by my parents. They're like, "Well, I flew across the ocean. I had to trek three miles to go to school." It's always something like that. But in all seriousness, I am reminded by them and their sacrifices.

It is scary. It is scary to think that they did all of that to bring us here, to provide us these opportunities. But then I feel like that adds to the burden. Then I have to make it. I have to be able to put in these hours.

But I don't know. Where do you draw the line between your mental health or your just health in general and then pursuing your dreams on the behalf of your family?

Overcoming Educational Barriers

Alizah: Truthfully, that's something that I'm still very much figuring out. And I think when I say this, people think, "Well, you're in medicine or you're pursuing STEM, science degrees, because of family. There's this family pressure." And I think that's such a misinterpretation of it because I want this. I want this so badly and I'm driven by multiple factors, including my family.

And so it's something that I'm always trying to navigate and think about. It really just hits me in the gut every time and I don't know why. Well, I do know why, but I don't know why it's so impactful for me.

When I am in the library really late or when I'm passing the halls . . . I think it's because I think of Grandpa, and I think about the sacrifice not just to come here, what they were giving up, but the sacrifice it cost to stay here.

And it hits me in the gut every time I see a person of color cleaning up in the janitorial service, because I'm like . . . I don't know. I see them and I feel like I know you and I feel like you know me, but you can't say that because they don't know. I'm the person who probably they're like, "Get out of here. Why are you here at 10:00 p.m.?" But I'm like, "I think about you on my drive home. I think about you on the drive here. You are on my mind."

Yes, it came at a high cost to leave, but I think what a lot of people don't understand is of course everyone wants to come to America, and our family did, but life was good on the island. I don't think people grasp that. We had it set. Granted, yeah, it's still a developing country. There are a lot of setbacks, but life was good. We were literally living on a beach, no cell service. So that's also a plus, right?

Kesaia: Oh, for sure.

Alizah: And economically stable. In fact, we were not very well to do, but we were very privileged in the setting of Tonga. We were able to help communities there. And then you transfer to America where Grandma couldn't bring all of her kids because they both had to work full time, right? So someone, we know who, got to stay behind and then followed after. But I think it was for his benefit.

Kesaia: Wow. That was beautifully said, Alizah. Truly. I think there is conversation about providing opportunities to your children by coming to America, the American dream, but staying here is also just as hard. Leaving the comfort of your culture, of people who look like you, and then all of a sudden you become not necessarily an outcast, but an outsider, that's truly hard.

And navigating the language barrier, it's really hard to think about. And also just like you said, our grandparents had decent jobs in Tonga and then coming here and having to work blue collar jobs, that must have been extremely hard. That's something to keep in mind. We're grateful for all of that.

Gosh, I'm already a team member of Team Cry, so I don't want to cry thinking of all this. But it's also empowering to think that we could do our grandparents proud.

Family Support and Legacy

Alizah: Sometimes, though, when I go visit Grandma, I'm like, "You just want me to rub your feet. You love people that rub your feet. You don't care what I do. You just want to make sure that you get rolled to the left and rolled to the right and that your toenails are clipped." And I'm like, "Well, if I knew that all along, maybe I would've . . ."

But I just look around, and I'm sure you've found this in your own education, where people are like, "Oh, I'm pursuing this," or, "I'm pursuing this. My dad's so and so," and there's this family pressure to upkeep a legacy. And in the same sense, we're upkeeping a legacy.

But I think if push comes to shove . . . and I don't know if you've experienced this. I won't speak on your behalf. But I think if I decided to . . . well, I won't say I decided. Let's say the medical school decided to leave me. If the medical school was like, "You're done," I think my family would be like, "You know what? That's okay." And I'd be like, "Yeah, I'm going back to Tonga and I'm going to revamp our house." I think there's still this support, right?

When you migrate, family is all you've got, and it's your connections that you've got. I remember my dad saying when they got off the plane, "Who's picking you up?" If it's not family, it's someone your family knows or someone your family knows that knows somebody else. I hate to use this word in this context, but it is about a network, right?

People use that commercially now, but what it really means is community. Community and people who love and care about you and are willing to sacrifice for you, for your betterment. And now we've used it in the terms of network and stuff like that, but it has its origins in love and I just want to clarify that.

I think in that context, it's not a pressure to succeed. I don't feel like I need to do the migrant legacy/sacrifice good. I need to do good by it. It's more like I know it can be done. I know I've got it in me to do this stuff despite everyone here telling me it can't be done and it can't be done by someone like you.

Or is that something I just fill out, that everyone's out to get me? Do you ever feel like, "I know it can be done because I've seen people in my family and in my history compete and complete harder tasks or harder goals and ambitions, so this can be done," even though it feels like it's impossible?

Kesaia: I've experienced that feeling of everyone having it out for you, especially in classrooms where no one looks like you. And although it is isolating, you do have that comfort of people you know and your family doing harder tasks.

But you say it's a good thing and that amazes me, so maybe I'm looking at it negatively and I should look at . . .

Alizah: No. I want to hear what you have to say.

Kesaia: . . . it in a more positive view. But I think it's truly so hard.

I honestly want to hear what you have to say about it, because for our listeners, Alizah is incredibly intelligent and she's amazing. You are also the first in our family to attend medical school. That's a huge accomplishment. How do you feel about this?

Alizah: I think I like a challenge. Of course, medical school has turned out to be far more challenging than I anticipated. It's almost turned to be punishing, right? We were talking before this, but it's turned to be very . . . not just difficult or hard. I think a lot of people use those adjectives to describe it, but it's felt cruel almost at times. Senselessly difficult, senselessly competitive.

I guess that's kind of just when I turned back to our community and our family. I mean, there's a whole group of six of us at The U, but that's when I turned to them and I'm like, "Can this be done?" And they're like, "Oh, absolutely." And I'm like, "Eh, I don't know, but if you think so, I'll keep going."

I'll turn to our family and be like, "I don't know what I'm doing." I think of this scene in "The Incredibles" where . . . I forget the costume designer, but she's talking to Elastigirl, the mom, and she's like, "Pull yourself together. We have done harder things. We have done things that have challenged us. We have done things. This is not it. This is not where we break, not on this."

So I'm like, "Okay, you're right. I can pull myself together. I'm going to get through this. I don't know how, I don't think you know how either, but I'm going to try."

Kesaia: So our grandma is Edna Mode. Our family has done super hard things, but I find what we're doing to be also hard. Maybe it's because both of us are first gen, but I think our parents have a hard time relating to our difficulties.

You didn't have to build a church so you can study it, but it's still hard. And I love my parents, but I don't think they could tell you what classes I'm taking or what has to be done to apply to medical school or graduate school. And so I still find it pretty isolating and difficult in a different way. Maybe that's just me being selfish, but . . .

Alizah: No, it's so true, because you go to this community. You're part of the medicinal chemistry, you're part of the medical school, you're part of the biology department. People are like, "See, this is your major. This is where people who love biology, people who love the human body come to congregate and learn." And then you look around and you're like, "I don't know if these are my people, but okay."

And then you go back to your people and you're like, "Today we learned about this and it was so hard, and I think about this," and they're like, "Yeah, that's great. Did you clean the bathroom, though?" It's like, "Bro, you don't get me." Your professional environment can't grasp you. Your personal life also doesn't totally grasp you.

And so you kind of just get to, pun intended, live on your own island of, "I know me and I know what I'm going through." But it's hard because you can only source validation from certain sources.

Kesaia: Right. I like this term that you've coined of competitive . . .

Alizah: Compassion.

Kesaia: Sorry, compassionate. Not competitive. We don't like competitive. Compassionate ambition and to help each other, because we can all make it.

Alizah: Maybe we still have the migrant rose-colored glasses on where we're like, "The land of American dreams. We all can make it, we can all be happy, we can all have enough health insurance, and make enough money, and everyone's invited to the feast." And so maybe I'm still stuck in he-he land, but in reality it's like, "Welcome to America. Put your working boots on."

I think it's fascinating how systems and institutions are transforming into these more . . . They use a lot of these terms that to me are just translations of "community," right? Like, "Oh, you need to network," "Oh, you need to build a community," "Oh, you need to find a mentor." So you mean I just need a good auntie? Okay.

And it's more holistic too, right? That's another term they use. "We take a holistic view" or "We want you to be a holistic human. You're not just a student." That's exactly how it is on the island. Yeah, sure, you might be my doctor, but I know where you're from and I know that you don't know how to fish. So I'm considering you holistically, right?

And then here it's holistically in the sense of you have hobbies outside of this. And to me, I feel like we are taking . . . Not we. I don't consider myself part of the system. I'm a vigilante of the system. But I do think systems are taking these terms and these ideas and these really profound resources that oppressed and underrepresented communities have found and utilized and have implemented them into, I guess, the day-to-day of what a corporation might do or what a institution might do or what a curriculum might do. And it's like, "Oh, funny how the tides turn back."

Kesaia: Yeah.

Alizah: There's more to us. I would never discount your identity even if it's not being seen, or recognized, or valued, or you feel isolated because of it. Maybe in 10 or a few years, they're going to start talking about things that felt so unique to you, but are actually incredible resources that they've seen to be very helpful.

That's kind of my thinking out loud, because I don't know how we change it. I just know that taking pride in your identity and your culture isn't so bad. I think people think, "Oh, I don't want to be prideful. I'm willing to give up who I am and where I belong to kind of fit the mold," but the mold changes and it's actually strange how it's included some parts of our identity as Pacific Islanders recently.

Identity and Cultural Representation

Kesaia: With regards to your identity of being a Pacific Islander, do you ever feel that you don't belong in both identities as a Pacific Islander and then as a medical student? Because I personally feel that there's a stigma towards Pacific Islanders pursuing higher education and that not being Pacific Islander culture. That's what I've experienced. Have you ever felt that way? I just struggle to feel Pacific Islander even though that I am. I know I am.

Alizah: I'm like, "Check out the skin tone. It sure seems to be enough for some people to get angry. I think it's enough for me to consider myself a Pacific Islander."

But I do think that there's this idea that you're whitewashed if you are pursuing things that are not necessarily . . . If you care about things that are maybe a little more esoteric, you're kind of like, "How Polynesian are you really? I bet you don't eat the pig," kind of thing. And you're right, I don't eat the pig, but it's because it's looking at me. That's why.

But something that I think about when I'm like, "Am I a Pacific Islander in this space?" is I think about how Tonga has the highest PhDs per capita granted because we're a small island. We're a small island, but we have the most PhDs per capita. And I'm like, "So it actually seems like getting doctorates is part of the culture. I'm just continuing what's been going on."

I try not to think about it too much because I think you can definitely go down a tailspin, but I refute and I absolutely refuse this idea that we have these huge minds of the Renaissance in Europe . . . Yeah, that's great. I'm sure they were doing good things. Galileo, I'm not going to throw hands with you. Da Vinci, I recognize your work. But I think you're foolish and I think you're naive if you don't think those things are happening on an island in the Pacific Ocean.

Pacific Islanders are educated just as much as teachers, and healers, and professors, and academics as the next population. You don't make it uncolonized into the 21st century on a remote Pacific island by doing nothing, right? This is in our bones and I guess, more importantly, it's in our minds.

Kesaia: I think that was beautifully said, Alizah. I'm excited to see you contribute to all of these numbers.

Alizah: We'll see. You might see me contributing to the decrease of cassava on the Tongan Islands.

All right. Well, thank you everyone for tuning in. And thank you, Kesaia, so much for being on this podcast with me and exploring my identity, I guess. I appreciate that.

I want to encourage everyone to check out our Instagram, @bundleofhers, and our website as well. And please subscribe wherever you podcast.