キャリアニュース2021年7月4～8日

One day, in the before-COVID times, I was traveling to deliver a seminar. As I walked down to breakfast in the hotel lobby, another guest waylaid me with a complaint: “The oatmeal is out.” The tone was arrogant, demanding, and dismissive. It took me a second to realize that she had mistaken me for a hotel employee. A flash of hot indignation washed through me. I have come a long way from the Filipina immigrant girl working part time as a food server during high school, I thought to myself; now I was a professor running my own research lab. Later I realized there was another reason the encounter stung so much. > “The melding of … my identities wasn't always smooth.” As Filipino immigrants living in the United States, many of my family members and I started out as “essential workers”—and some still are. My mom was a fast food cashier. My grandmother, aunt, and cousin worked as caregivers; my grandfather washed dishes in a restaurant. My family did honest and hard work. But when I wa