What Being Gay and Asian American Taught Me
Three decades to be proud of it, two runs for office, a letter to the governor, and what I learned about having a voice and giving people a second chance.
I am a gay Asian American who grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area. It took me three decades to understand, accept, and be proud of all aspects of my identity, including what my identity means to me.
I served as the Chair of the GLBTQ+ Asian Pacific Alliance (GAPA) and was on the board between 2019 and 2024. I joined the 501(c)(4) nonprofit during a time when I was trying to make a difference in my local communities, including in Fremont, CA as well as in the greater region including San Francisco.
After graduating from law school in 2018, I ran for local office for the first time at the age of 25. I remember wanting to introduce simple changes that everyone would agree with (e.g., technology synced traffic lights to ease the daily bottleneck traffic towards Niles Canyon and 680-N into the Tri-Valley Area through Fremont). I also did not like the idea of one of the other candidates winning, given he had voted down the inclusion of LGBTQ+ inclusive books and early sex education in primary school while on the Fremont Unified School Board. It was a close race; I came ahead of the former police chief of 19 years and another graduate of my law school. But yes, he did win, and when asked about whether he supported gay marriage, it was no surprise that while on Fremont City Council, he would say that he didn’t.
When I ran for City Council, I was endorsed by the Harvey Milk Democratic Club, a progressive LGBTQ+ democratic club based in San Francisco. My opponent and his team would share and disseminate that news through Chinese-language WeChat groups and voters throughout the campaign with a simple question: “Is Justin Sha gay?” They would then tack on misinformation after introducing me as the crazy gay progressive candidate: how I would bring marijuana (never said that) and safe needle injection sites and the homeless (out of context, baseless, and false) to Fremont, CA.
I grew from that experience, and while on the GAPA board, I would come to author a letter to Gavin Newsom encouraging him to appoint Rob Bonta (who endorsed my second campaign) to be our California Attorney General, help elect the first openly bisexual person to the California state legislature, as well as organize community events and banquets in support of community leaders like Congressman Mark Takano, an openly gay Asian American member of the U.S. Congress.
When I met Congressman Takano in about 2019, I felt very inspired. He had run for Congress many years before but had lost in an exceptionally tight race after his opponent outed him shortly before election day. He later on would run again, and this time he won. Interestingly, he served in the neighboring district of the congressmember who outed him to the public. Dirty politics and character assassination: from firsthand experience, I can attest that it really fucking sucks.
Organizations and advocacy groups like GAPA, the Victory Institute and Victory Fund (which I attended and was later endorsed by), and other nonprofit organizations do a lot of incredible things. Chiefly among those reasons, however, is I believe one thing: having a voice. The people without power in society are often those who don’t have a voice at the table. In my runs for political office, I felt that. Not being able to share my truth, not being able to be in a room when someone lies about you or takes things out of context, it sucks, and there’s just really nothing you can do about it.
I’m no longer in politics. I was a bit traumatized by it. But the experiences helped me grow and believe in myself. Even when 99 other people in the room don’t believe in you, all it takes is 1. That’s all you need. Or at least, that’s all I need.
Through GAPA, the Victory Institute, campaigns, and community work, I also met people with completely different stories from mine. I’ve met a volunteer firefighter who was at 9/11. I’ve met a first responder dispatcher who cried to me about the struggles she had making ends meet as a single mother. I’ve met people of all walks of life: of all ages with different professions, ethnicities, socioeconomic experiences, and different political perspectives. Perhaps also, this is one of the things that I have come to appreciate most about being gay.
Being gay has brought people into my life whom I definitely would have never otherwise met. And the more people you meet, the harder it becomes to flatten everybody into a category. I’ve certainly grown as a person in that regard, and I try to speak up for others when I can, especially those with less of a voice.
In reflecting about my time spent as a community leader of the LGBTQ+ API community and locally for some in the city and region where I grew up, perhaps one conversation I had with a trans Asian American woman has most stuck with me. How she thanked me for running both times, how it takes some guts to do it, and how I always spoke up for the trans community even when it wasn’t convenient for me to do so.
As I have gotten older, I’ve gotten better at separating the concept of “wrong.” What some person did at some point in time that I believe was wrong, versus that thing becoming the worst thing they ever did and being representative of their character, that that’s all that’s worth knowing about them and they’re some irredeemably bad person. It’s not the same thing.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean pretending something did not happen, but it means making them know that what they did was, in your opinion, wrong and telling them why. Giving them a chance to grow and be more kind, compassionate, and empathetic. Forgiveness doesn’t mean agreeing with what they did or giving up your own values. It’s about remembering that people are human and they make mistakes. No one’s perfect. I know I’m certainly not, and I would want others to extend me that same grace when I’m the one who messes up or makes a mistake.
Politics is dirty, but I’ve always felt like telling the truth to people and being transparent is important. You don’t have to sacrifice those values to serve the community regardless of how much you care. I’m proud of what I stood for when I ran for office, because I know that I did change my community for the better.
Today, I’m proud of all of who I am. Being gay, being Asian. Growing up in the Bay Area. I’m proud of my younger self who accomplished while also fucking up. I’m proud of my younger self who, if I think back, may have felt alone, and never had anyone who could help him as a mentor or guide him, even through his late 20s. I’m proud of myself, who owns his identity and his past including his mistakes, as well as his talents, vision, and ambition with respect to what he wants to accomplish and all he has to offer in whichever arena he chooses to go.
And also, just the simple things. I’m proud of that version of myself who can now just hang out with friends at a gay bar grabbing a drink. No purpose, just enjoying what life and being gay and accepting yourself, all aspects of yourself, has to offer. I think there’s a wisdom in that, and I hope that every young person comes to find that eventually at some point in their lives.
And as for what gay bars are good in San Francisco? I recommend Hi Tops in the Castro. Great cider, good protein bowls, and there’s also a Barry’s right across the street.
I think that is part of the story too.
Being gay caused me pain when I was younger. Being Asian American came with its own painful experiences. But those parts of my life also gave me communities, friendships, perspective, and a much bigger world than I would have had otherwise.
I am thankful for that.