Welcome to the sixth installment of The Yappie’s series featuring Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) newsmakers, rising candidates, and lawmakers. If you’re interested in being featured, please email [email protected].
On the evening of Nov. 3 last year, people across the U.S. held their breaths as the votes rolled in for the presidential election. But in Hawaiʻi, locals were also closely following another race: Adrian Tam versus Nick Ochs.
Running for office as an out and proud member of the LGBTQ community against a Republican opponent associated with the Proud Boys extremist group, Tam drew significant media attention in the months leading up to the election.
That night, he defeated his opponent, winning the seat to represent the state House's 22nd district, which comprises Waikīkī, Ala Moana, and Kakaʻakowai.
“I was ecstatic that Nick Ochs would not be in office,” Tam told me. Now, the work to serve Hawaiʻi would start.
Since January, Tam has sponsored 32 bills and become vice chair of two committees. Despite being a political newcomer, Tam built fruitful relationships with his fellow legislators.
When we spoke earlier this month over the phone, it was clear how much his identities—both as an Asian American and as a gay man—play a role in his life as a public official. Using his current platform, Tam hopes to inspire others who, like him, can change the traditional face of politics as we know it.
Parents as personal heroes
Tam was born in Honolulu, Hawaiʻi. Growing up, Tam recognized the sacrifices his parents made to start a new life in America. In Taiwan, his mother and grandmother lost all their money in Taiwan after his grandfather engaged in bad monetary deals, while his dad left China during the Chinese Civil War.
With little money to start, Tam and his family relied on government-subsidized assistance. Tam’s father was an assistant to a draftsman, and his mother worked as a saleswoman, according to the Daily Beast.
“I really had to look after my grandparents and parents,” Tam said. This meant taking on certain responsibilities, like translating documents from English to Chinese.
Eventually, Tam’s family started Central Pacific Properties Inc., a local real estate business in Hawaiʻi. “At its start, we operated from our house, and my mom would have me help out. More people joined, and we grew to handle various real estate ventures, including property management and client assistance,” Tam reflected. “We had a lot of success and it boosted our economic situation.”
His parents’ journey to the United States and subsequent success after overcoming the many challenges immigrants often face was Tam’s own “inspiration while growing up.”
Like his parents, Tam faced adversity as a Chinese American. Following high school, he attended Pennsylvania State University, where he said he experienced significant culture shock. That was when Tam understood his own “privilege in Hawaiʻi,” a state with a plurality of AAPIs. At Penn State, he had to navigate spaces with a majority of white Americans, many of whom treated him based on stereotypes about Asian Americans.
Like many colleges across the U.S, Penn State is predominantly white. The university hosts an undergraduate student population of over 66,000, and only 6.40% are Asian.
“I was very careful about how I presented myself. I did my best to enunciate words because I did not want to be ridiculed,” he recounted. “I was often told I was ‘well-spoken,’ and I often had to remind others I was born in the United States and attended an American school. Many assumed I was a foreigner, and I received ‘compliments’ for my English.”
As he grappled with his Asian identity, he also had to come to terms with his identity as a gay man. “My experience coming out was supportive,” he shared. “I was loved unconditionally, but of course there was concern about how difficult it would be to be out while there was a lot of prejudice around the United States.”
Despite initially pursuing a business major at Penn State, Tam soon found himself turning to history—particularly East Asian and American history.
That passion continues today, where he relies on knowing history to “not repeat past mistakes while legislating.”
Falling in love with public service
At age 23, Tam left Penn State with the hope of attending law school or enrolling in a master’s program. But first, he returned to Hawaiʻi, where he started working in the family’s real estate business.
He soon realized real estate was not for him and left after a year to work as a legislative aide for Speaker Emeritus Calvin Say, where “I fell in love with public service,” Tam told the Daily Beast.
In his position, Tam kept track of the day’s events to brief the speaker and tracked ongoing pieces of legislation. He also volunteered for Stanley Chang’s 2016 campaign to oust the state senate’s last remaining Republican at the time.
Following the campaign win, he was hired to manage Chang’s office. While working for Chang, he wrote a bill banning conversion therapy for minors in Hawaiʻi, which passed in 2018. He served as Chang’s office manager until 2020, when he decided to run for public office himself.
Tam understands the wide array of issues that currently face Hawaiʻi, but the biggest factor that pushed him to run is Hawaiʻi's rising cost of living. “I see people are being pushed out of Hawaiʻi, and that makes me feel bad,” Tam said in an interview with The Advocate. “Our biggest export is our own people.”
According to Expatistan, a crowdsourced database of prices around the world, Honolulu is the seventh most expensive city in the United States as of 2021. The cost of living has also fueled an array of other concerns, including a homelessness crisis. Hawaiʻi currently has the fourth-highest rate of homelessness in the nation, according to the Department of Housing and Urban Development.
Although his Proud Boys opponent drew a lot of media attention in the general election, it should be noted that Tam had to first beat a longtime incumbent in the Democratic primary. Former state Rep. Tom Brower was first elected in 2006 and gained notoriety in 2013 for his own “personal war against homelessness,” a campaign that included looking for shopping carts used to store unhoused people’s belongings and destroying them with a sledgehammer.
“I saw him as an entrenched incumbent who was out-of-touch with Hawaiʻi’s issues,” Tam said. “I could not forgive myself if I did not run. That feeling behind my head of what could have been would have continued to stick with me if I didn’t throw my hat into the ring.”
Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-Massachusetts) served as a role model, Tam said. Warren armed herself with policy plans during her presidential run, and Tam followed in her footsteps, laying out detailed proposals to address the state’s most urgent concerns. His campaign website led with: “While some candidates talk about the problem, Adrian has solutions.”’
Tam admitted to me that he did pushback from his campaign team. “They didn’t want me to be tied down [to my proposals], but I believe that is the best way to serve communities. They want substance.”
“I don’t think it’s good enough to just say I support this or that, etc.,” he added. “No, if you are going to run for office and take a government salary, you should have detailed proposals and a vision. I would often see [state legislator] candidates that just say ‘I support local business’ to address economic issues. I think it is insulting to think that voters are so ignorant to not understand proposals.”
Facing hate head-on
In what was considered a surprising upset, Tam defeated Brower in the August 2020 Democratic primary by a narrow margin: 1,964 to 1,820 votes. “[Brower] was well liked in the state capitol and was part of the leadership … Many unions and other organizations hesitated with their endorsements. But I was honest with them, and they took the leap with me, and I eked out a victory,” Tam told The Advocate.
Tam had defeated Brower in a stunning victory. With the state’s heavy Democratic lean, his staff was confident in his prospects in the general election.
Ochs is known for founding Hawaiʻi’s chapter of the Proud Boys, a far-right, neo-fascist extremist group which the Southern Poverty Law Center has designated a hate group. In February this year, the Justice Department indicted Ochs on charges related to his involvement with the Capitol insurrection.
Still, “I did not want to take any chances,” Tam said. “I still walked and campaigned on the pavement. I wanted to ensure [the seat] would not go to the hands of someone who doesn’t represent our values in Hawaiʻi.”
As he took to the road, Tam received significant hate and harassment from Ochs and his supporters. “One of his supporters, Edwin Boyette, would harass me on Twitter saying false things, like I love crime and I’m a socialist,” Tam said.
Boyette, the state’s former GOP vice chair of communications, resigned in January this year after using the party’s Twitter account to espouse QAnon conspiracy theories. “I was harassed,” Tam admitted. “But I did not want to legitimize [Nick Ochs]. I did not want to stoop to his level or give him any level of attention.”
Tam is right. Ochs was already controversial enough, having faced a barrage of backlash for his hateful posts against the Black, Jewish, and LGBTQ communities. Facebook later deleted Ochs’ campaign page for violating terms of service and community standards, according to local station KITV.
“I think everything that comes out of his mouth is stupid,” Tam told me. “I had the impulse to respond [immediately every time he said something offensive about me].”
It wasn’t easy, he said. “Emotionally, I would sometimes get hurt, but I had to get over it, luckily with the help of others. In the end, I surrounded myself with friends and family, people who can support me to take care of myself and keep me sane. Eventually, the negativity will die off anyway.”
Lessons learned: Don’t read the comments, and “surround yourself with good, supportive people who will help you get through everything that is thrown at you.”
In the end, Tam persevered, taking 63% of the vote against Ochs.
Any final words to Ochs?
“If you really think that way, fuck you.”
A three-legged stool
In Hawaiʻi, the state legislature’s regular session runs for 60 days, typically from January to April each year. Having completed his first session by the time we spoke, Tam called his first year in office “very successful.”
“I was unsure if other members wanted to work with me because I unseated an incumbent who was well-liked amongst the other legislators in the capitol,” he said. “I had to build trust.”
In his first session, Tam was selected as vice chair for two committees, one on health, human services, and homelessness and the other on culture, arts, and international affairs.
Tam pointed to the passage of HB282, a right-to-shelter verification bill, as an important accomplishment for himself. “Previously, you would see unaccompanied minors being turned away to the streets,” he said.” HB282 expands the circumstances in which a minor may consent to no-cost emergency shelter. It was signed into law by Gov. David Ige (D) on June 1.
Despite the success of his first year, Tam knows there is still more work to be done. “I have a lot to offer to bring about a more vibrant and sustainable Hawaiʻi.”
Climate change and consequently, rising sea levels, continue to pose serious risks to the islands and people of Hawaiʻi.
The lack of affordable housing is another urgent concern.
Tam’s district has a higher rate of residents aged 55 and over compared to the state as a whole, with a median household income of $55,000. The district’s largest racial groups are white people and Asians, who make up 78.9% of the district’s constituents.
“I believe local citizens want their most pressing issues at hand to be addressed first,” he said. “Waikīkī has a severe noise issue as a result of its tourism industry. Because many of my residents are senior citizens, I hope to regulate noise in the area.”
Hawaiʻi’s economy has especially suffered this past year due to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. The state Department of Business, Economic Development & Tourism reports that Hawaiʻi’s real GDP decreased by 8% from 2019 to 2020, and will only recover by 3.5% in 2021.
The state heavily relies on tourism for revenue, but the pandemic slowed things to a halt for much of 2020. Now, tourists are slowly trickling back, but it’s contributed to yet another COVID outbreak that has disproportionately impacted Pacific Islanders and Native Hawaiians, who are overrepresented in cases and deaths.
Tam believes a more diversified economy is key. “I consider Hawaiʻi to be on a three-legged stool—without one leg, the stool is no longer standing,” he described. “The three stools are tourism, construction, and the military. I want to add investment into green technology and meeting green energy goals as our fourth leg.”
A prominent issue in recent years has been the struggle for Native Hawaiian sovereignty. Supporters have long been split about the best way to achieve the independence wrested from them when Americans illegally overthrew the Hawaiian Kingdom. Some are focusing on what they consider to be more practical steps to improve their political willpower within the existing system, while others aim to take back sovereignty and governance from the United States.
State programs have been developed to improve conditions for Native Hawaiians, including in health, education, employment, conservation programs, and native language immersion programs. Critics, however, have said the government fails to efficiently manage the programs and allows the community to continue falling through the cracks.
Today, with their community largely wiped out by white colonizers, Native Hawaiians comprise only about 10% of the state’s population—yet they disproportionately experience discrimination, high rates of poverty and homelessness, and disparities in health and longevity. Among the five largest racial groups in Hawai’i, Native Hawaiians have the highest poverty rates for individuals and families, with 12.6% of families and 15.5% of the population living below the poverty level, per 2018 state data.
Tam recognizes that Native Hawaiians want leadership that works with them—not for them, over them, or against them. “How do I best see myself serving Native Hawaiians? I will continue to listen and learn from the Native Hawaiian community and do my best to serve them.”
"The seat is there"
No one in Hawaiʻi running for state office has been out about their queer identity. They only came out while in office or after their terms expired. And as a queer Asian American myself, I couldn’t help but share my own excitement in seeing him running for and serving in public office as a proud gay man.
He understood the importance his election and success means to the LGBTQ community and the political climate in his state.
“I would not say that it makes things harder for me as a legislator knowing that, but I do know I have to be careful to make sure things are not taken out of context by others,” he acknowledged.
“I personally have seen change as a result of my election. Luckily, I have not faced any harassment or homophobic slurs from my constituents. In the end, my constituents just want someone who is there for them. However, I do know previous legislators who have voted against LGBT measures in the past.
“They are not willing to say anything homophobic with me personally, and people who have been homophobic on floor speeches have taken a back seat. They won't even take a vote against an LGBT bill. They would just not vote on it.”
But his presence alone is an act of defiance. He is now one of 43 openly LGBTQ state legislators of color serving nationwide, three of whom are LGBTQ AAPIs. He is also currently the only out LGBTQ elected official in Hawaiʻi. In the wake of legislative attacks on trans rights across America, the representation of an LGBTQ member in government is particularly critical.
Often, queer AAPIs feel forced to choose between two marginalized identities, both of which they face discrimination for.
A 2006 survey from the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force Policy Institute found that 89% of all AAPI LGBT respondents believe homophobia and/or transphobia are a problem in the larger AAPI community. 78% said LGBT AAPI people encounter racism in the predominantly white LGBT community.
Because of these two axes, many queer AAPIs find themselves at higher risk of suicide and depression compared to AAPIs in general.
But in Adrian Tam, queer AAPIs can see someone like them.
In our call, Tam emphasized that the government—whether at the local, state, or federal level—needs more people who challenge the status quo.
“I want people who don’t fit the mold. Waitstaff… Teachers… You see [New York Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez], a former bartender, now a sitting member of Congress. We need more people like that,” Tam explained. “With a government that looks the same, that leads to bad policy. I just want people to know that they can do it. The seat is there for them to take it.”
I asked Tam to share some words with those in the LGBTQ community who are also considering running for office themselves. He underscored the value of authenticity.
“Biggest takeaway is you can have all the endorsements and money in the world, but if you aren’t able to be yourself when you are running, you are not going to be successful,” Tam said. “Authenticity resonates with everyone, and that will get you far.”
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