There are no words to describe the shitshow that the fourth quarter of 2020 was for me, and my extended, unintended absence from this space shows the unwanted collisions that occur when we are part of an organization that we have outgrown. I gave 2020 my all – fought hard for a promotion, for A’s playdate pod, and for a safe reopening of our daycare – yet everything collapsed starting in late October. Just about the only thing that I successfully contributed to was the survival of the local restaurants and cafes that brought me relief and joy. About the only thing that went right for me is that I achieved my financial independence number and with it, I finally won my freedom.
Overall, I had to live with the horrible sinking feeling of failure, of making do with situations that were unacceptable to me. And through it all, I simultaneously mourned and raged against the systemic micro aggressions, selfishness, and unconscious biases that make it so that I am muted, diminished, ignored because I am of Asian descent. I am closer to 40 now and slowly recognizing that I have lived in la la land – blind to the chains that will keep me back simply because I have the misfortune of being born with two handicaps – not white (or white-presenting) and not male. I suppose it was for the best that I ignored the realities of discrimination towards Asians until now – I would be a much more jaded individual otherwise.
And yet what does being white mean? The irony in America’s racial construct is that the skin color of East Asians – Chinese, Japanese, Koreans – is closer to a true shade of white than your average Cacucasian. It is blasphemy to tan – that is how much the color white is prized in these cultures. Think of the geisha and the donning of white powder to accentuate her skin tone (though don’t get me started on the stereotype that the geisha represents for Asian women).
I hit my financial independence number at the end of last year. The only saving grace to a year of intense failed efforts on so many fronts. And while it feels anti-climactic after having chased this number for the better part of a decade, it is also pure relief because in a world where I have zero control over much, I once again have options. I have been here before – dead ends and rock bottoms – and at least now, I have the freedom to decide how to rebuild without fearing for my long-term future.
Financial independence for me isn’t about early retirement, but it is about having a permission slip to explore and prototype other ways to earn a living. My organization practices an insidious form of gaslighting: why do you want a promotion? No one else wants promotions. You should be happy earning a percent more than inflation each year and keep taking on extracurricular projects and lateral roles to build your attractiveness and one day in the distant future when everyone has retired you will get your chance to step into a bigger role. This misses the point entirely about a person having ambitions of rising, of being an excellent performer and being rated so, of wanting to be recognized for contributions. Why should I be content to do excellent work and not be rewarded for it?
Wherever you are in your journey towards financial independence, I hope you arrive faster than you think you will. And I’m here to promise that even if it doesn’t feel like a bigger deal than you think it will be when you reach your number, there is so much value to knowing that you have purchased your freedom. There will be an imminent market crash as there always is, but knowing that my portfolio is where it is today gives me confidence that the portfolio will end up again where it needs to be when I truly need the money. However you reach your number, I wish you a smooth and quick ride.
