What About Us? A South Asian Reflection on AAPI Heritage Month

Every May, Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) Heritage Month rolls around—meant to honor the cultures, contributions, and stories of a vast and diverse community in the United States. But as a Pakistani-American, I’ve often found myself watching the celebrations and wondering quietly: where are we in all of this?

A Brief History

AAPI Heritage Month began as a week-long observance in 1978, thanks to U.S. Representatives Frank Horton and Norman Mineta, and was officially expanded to a month in 1990. May was chosen for two key reasons:

• The arrival of the first Japanese immigrants to the U.S. in May 1843
• The completion of the transcontinental railroad in May 1869, built largely by Chinese laborers

It’s a month rooted in deep East Asian history, with a rightful focus on Japanese, Chinese, and later, Pacific Islander narratives. But what started with one focus has expanded to include an incredibly diverse group of identities—from Korean, Vietnamese, and Filipino Americans to South Asians like Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Nepalis, and Sri Lankans.

The Overlooked Corners

Yet despite being included under the AAPI umbrella, South Asians often feel left out of the spotlight. Media coverage tends to skew heavily toward East and Southeast Asian experiences, and events rarely center South Asian voices unless we make space for ourselves. It’s not always malicious—it’s the result of a wide umbrella term trying to capture too much, too generally. But it still stings.

We are part of this story, too.

We have histories of immigration, resilience, and resistance.

We’ve built homes, shaped communities, opened businesses, protested, and persevered.

We carry with us languages, spices, poetry, and trauma.

Still, too often, we’re reduced to stereotypes or treated as an afterthought.

What We Carry

For many of us, especially second-generation South Asians, this month is complicated. We may not speak our parents’ languages fluently. We may feel caught between two continents. We may be aching to belong—both to the country we were born in, and to the cultural legacy we’re still trying to hold onto.

I barely speak Urdu. My father is from Sialkot, Pakistan. My mother is American. And I live in the in-between—where my name is mispronounced, my food is misunderstood, and my identity doesn’t fit into tidy celebration boxes.

But I’m here.

We’re here.

And we deserve to be seen.

A Call for Nuance

This AAPI Heritage Month, let’s broaden the lens. Let’s acknowledge the full spectrum of Asian American stories—including the ones from Lahore, Dhaka, Kathmandu, and Chennai. Let’s make room for the children of diaspora who are still learning their mother tongues, still untangling the threads of who they are.

Because visibility isn’t just about celebration. It’s about belonging.