How One Nonprofit’s Dragon Boat Program Unites and Inspires At-Risk AAPI Youth

Tell us a little bit about your background, and what it was like for you growing up.

I was born in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, where I lived until age 13. Though ethnically Chinese, I identify more as Vietnamese. Growing up, my family included my mom, dad, two older sisters, and an aunt. My dad was often in prison for attempting to leave Vietnam as a refugee, while my mom was our family's strength—responsible, independent, and a decisive leader. As a child, I was very shy and scared of violence after witnessing family fights, neighborhood disputes, and threats related to my grandmother's gambling debts.

In August 1997, I immigrated to the United States, and my first impressions were extremely challenging. I didn't know where America was when leaving Vietnam, and the language barrier on the plane meant we couldn't even ask for food during the 16-hour flight. After arriving in San Francisco, my family moved to the Tenderloin district in a small apartment. For my first year, I only knew how to get to KFC and where to buy Vietnamese sandwiches. I remember being terrified when ordering at KFC because I couldn't communicate properly.

Middle school was particularly difficult—I dreaded most classes because I couldn't understand the teachers or other students. I experienced significant bullying due to the language barrier, including being robbed on the bus and physically threatened. Fortunately, I found belonging at CYC, which I joined initially for their free trips. The center had Vietnamese-speaking staff and after-school programs that provided me with a sense of community during a time when I felt completely isolated and out of place in this new country.

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How did you get involved with CYC?

When I was 14 years old, a staff member from CYC visited my ESL class to present the after-school program. I decided to join because CYC offered tremendous cultural and academic support. After graduating, I continued participating in CYC programs throughout my four years of high school. During that time, I learned and grew significantly. I became a leader, running a high school support group and organizing a summer program for middle school students, many of whom were new immigrants. Additionally, I was part of the first group of students to establish the dragon boat team under the CYC organization.

Now I serve as a Director running core youth development programs, inclusive of overseeing our entire Dragon boat program, and leading outreach programs aimed at promoting safety in our neighborhoods and schools.

What made you start a dragon boat racing team?

When Sarah from CYC first invited me to try paddling at the lake, I had no idea it would change my life. Showing up that day and finding myself surrounded by students from all different backgrounds was eye-opening. That first experience on the water—feeling the rhythm, working in unison with complete strangers—it lit something up inside me. Dragon boating wasn't just about paddling; it was about discovering what happens when diverse people pull together toward one goal.

After my high school years with the team, I couldn't let it go. I created a novice CYC staff team because I wanted my colleagues to experience that same magic—that transformation that happens when you're in perfect sync with people you might never have connected with otherwise. But the real turning point came in 2014 when I formed a team specifically for high-risk youth from the community. These were kids like I had been—many without support, few people believing in them. Watching them transform on the water, becoming a family, paddling through their differences—it reminded me of my own journey from isolated immigrant kid to finding my place.

This year's team is even more special to me—paddlers speaking Cantonese, Spanish, English, mostly from Bayview. Dragon boating speaks to my soul because there are no superstars, just 20 people working as one. When I was that shy kid from Vietnam experiencing violence and bullying, I never imagined finding such belonging. Now I understand why this 2,500-year-old tradition has endured—it's not just about racing across water; it's about creating connection across divides. Every time I see our diverse team paddling in perfect harmony, I see the community I wish I'd had when I first arrived in America, scared and unable to speak the language. That's why dragon boat isn't just a sport to me—it's a vision for what's possible.

What’s the value of dragon boat racing to at-risk youth?

Dragon boat racing isn't just a sport for these at-risk youth—it's transformation in motion. When I brought together kids from different neighborhoods, some with street rivalries, the change was almost immediate. There's something powerful about synchronizing with someone you might have avoided on the street. These youth labeled "high-risk" suddenly became teammates, developing a brotherhood and sisterhood that transcended their differences.

I've witnessed kids who couldn't make eye contact with authority figures become team captains. Youth who struggled with explosive anger learned self-control because in a dragon boat, one person's disruption affects everyone. Kids who had been told they wouldn't amount to anything found themselves winning medals and believing in themselves. One young man told me, "This is the first time I've felt part of something bigger than my block."

That's the real value of dragon boats—it teaches them that when we paddle together, we can overcome any current trying to push us back. The sport became a metaphor for their lives: face forward, eyes on the horizon, and pull through the resistance together.

What are you most proud of in your work?

What I'm most proud of is creating sustainable change that ripples beyond our immediate programs. There's a special moment when you see a youth not only transform themselves but start transforming others around them—that's when I know we've done something meaningful.

I take immense pride in building bridges between communities that typically wouldn't interact. In a city as divided as San Francisco can be, watching youth from the Tenderloin, Chinatown, and Bayview form genuine connections feels revolutionary. These relationships break down stereotypes and create safety networks that extend far beyond our organization's walls.

The thing that truly fulfills me is developing programs that survive beyond my direct involvement. I've designed initiatives that have continued for years after I stepped back, with new leaders taking ownership and adapting them to changing community needs. That sustainability, where the impact outlasts my personal contribution—that's the legacy I'm most proud of building.

Community Youth Center of San Francisco (CYC) leads a comprehensive initiative to prevent violence, promote healing, and shift public narratives affecting AAPI communities—particularly limited English proficient seniors and underserved groups in San Francisco. CYC aims to foster safety, belonging, and empowerment across AAPI communities.