Cold Tea Collective

While awareness around mental health has grown in recent years, many Asian men disproportionately continue to navigate challenges in seeking help. Cultural stigma, language barriers, and a lack of culturally responsive care often prevent many from receiving the support they need. From the pressure to provide and succeed to the expectation of staying silent through hardship, these messages can make it difficult to seek support, express emotions, or ask for help.

For many disabled Asian Americans, Disability Pride is more than a celebration each July. It’s an ongoing journey of embracing every part of who they are, while navigating culture, family, identity, and belonging. Last year, Cold Tea Collective celebrated Disabled Pan-Asian Changemakers, highlighting ten disabled Pan-Asian leaders across generations who are helping shape a more accessible and inclusive future.

This past May, The Asian American Foundation (TAAF) brought together leaders, creatives, entrepreneurs, athletes, and storytellers for its 2026 Heritage Month Summit, centered around this year’s theme: Asian+American Dream. Cold Tea Collective’s Natasha Jung interviewed artists, athletes, entrepreneurs, and changemakers to explore what the Asian+American Dream means today.

*Trigger warning: sexual assault, sexual violence “The craziest thing about the Asian fetish is how confidently men announce it, with absolutely no shame and a good measure of pride,” writes Kaila Yu, author of Fetishized: A Reckoning with Yellow Fever, Feminism and Beauty, at the start of her compelling memoir. What feels like a jarring claim is a stark reality that Asian women still face in today’s polarizing climate.

It wasn’t even 7 a.m. and there was already a crowd of well-dressed, well-spoken women congregating in the hall at the New York Marriott Marquis. Journalists were speaking with honorees, guests were happily connecting with one another, and the organizers were scanning the halls and addressing any last-minute hiccups.

For many Asian American, Native Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander (AANHPI) communities, conversations around mental health have historically been shaped by stigma, silence, and the pressure to persevere. At the same time, society has misunderstood gaming – dismissing it as a distraction – rather than recognizing it as a meaningful source of connection, creativity, and self-expression.

The fifth annual Gold House Gold Gala returned to The Music Center in Los Angeles on May 9, bringing together more than 650 leaders across entertainment, business, technology, sports, fashion, and social impact to celebrate the newly unveiled 2026 Gold100 List. Formerly known as the A100, the rebranded Gold100 recognizes the Asian Pacific leaders shaping global culture and the future of the modern economy.

Across the Asian diaspora, mental health is often shaped by silence, stigma, and survival. It’s not that these experiences don’t exist; rather, they’re unnamed, misunderstood, or carried quietly across generations. According to Nielsen, 58% of AANHPI audiences make a conscious effort to support media from creators that reflect their identity. Long and short films has become some of the most powerful ways we begin to acknowledge and give language to those experiences.

Nowadays, there are festivals about anything Asian. Whether it’s a K-pop festival or an Asian night market, in an era of “China-maxxing” and K-Pop Demon Hunters, the world is tuned into what Asia has to offer. So, why not comedy? Atsuko Okatsuka at Asian Comedy Fest 2025. Photo Credit: Kim Newmoney.

Long before Asian Americans saw ourselves in Western media, we saw versions of our full selves in Asia. For the diaspora, it was more than just entertainment. Whether it was through films from Hong Kong’s golden age or lush Bollywood movies, Asian media gave Asian Americans complex and celebrated characters that the Western media severely lacked. For some Asian Americans, exploring our cultural identity had a soundtrack: K-Pop.