Raised in Anaheim, currently based in Los Angeles, but moving to Chicago, IL, Linda Toch is a Khmer American who currently works as a Mental Health Case Manager and is an incoming PhD Clinical Psychology Student.
How would you describe the environment and community where you grew up?
I loved growing up in Anaheim because there’s so much culture, good food, and warm-hearted people everywhere. I’m really grateful I was raised in an environment that felt safe to, and nurtured, many parts of my formative identity. All my friends growing up were first-generation, children of immigrants, and low income, like me. We were navigating pretty similar journeys. The only downside was that there definitely weren’t many Southeast Asians around me, which may be why I consciously seek out Southeast Asian American spaces now that I’m older.
How would you describe your academic setting as you pursued higher education?
It was rough! And constantly changing, just because I didn’t know what I was doing. I had to recourse so many times because I didn’t have much guidance about colleges. I started off at a liberal arts university and quickly realized the environment didn’t suit me. I went back to community college and transferred into a four-year public university afterward. And even then I struggled to feel like I belonged or was worthy of attending. Super bumpy, lots of unintentional, hands-on learning about what it meant to exist in an academic space. Especially as someone who felt like she didn’t speak, think, act or socialize the “right” way.
Was there ever a time in your educational journey where you felt behind, misunderstood, or confused because of your ethnic identity?
Definitely. It can get lonely to be Khmer and in university. It’s why I get so excited and will forever cheer on other Khmer students when I see and meet them. Our experiences are so distinct, as first generation students, as children of refugees, as bilingual and bicultural family members. We have roles and responsibilities beyond just graduating and finding a decent job - it gets tough and overwhelming. A lot of us are the first to navigate this foreign system.
The confusion comes especially when people voice their assumptions about me and my educational journey: that I had certain resources, that I wasn’t struggling to adjust, that my parents forced me to go to college or were college educated. Often, whenever I speak with another Southeast Asian student, we can inherently acknowledge our shared backgrounds - we don’t need to say anything or prove our existences and struggles to each other. It’s a total 180 to almost anyone else I meet in an academic setting, where my story can be invisibilized and erased by racial stereotypes.
How has the model minority myth impacted you and your educational experience? What are some personal experiences you’ve dealt with re: the myth? Do you think it’s harmful to our community and if so, why?
Yeah, it’s definitely harmful in a systematic way. I don’t think people suspected I was first generation, low-income, or even that I was a daughter of refugees - it’s hurtful within itself to force Southeast Asian students to have to prove they need help in order to receive it. Southeast Asians are scarcely acknowledged as underrepresented minorities in education. We need structural change and programming to help Southeast Asians transition into higher ed. There are so few of us here and honestly, the biggest support I have gotten are from people who have made it out the other end -- Southeast Asian and first generation faculty members who helped because they’ve been through the ringer, too. But I think it’s important for the educational system to recognize our hardships, because there needs to be substantial change to make a community difference.
How important of a role do you think higher education institutions have in helping to break the model minority myth? What are some ways you see universities and post-secondary institutions doing that?
I have so much to learn still, especially as I step into my new path into scholarship. But I do think, with their influence, higher education institutions have a responsibility of creating nuanced research that leads to nuanced policy. Not enough is done to honor people currently within the institutions, particularly Southeast Asian and Pacific Islander scholars, who advocate for us & for those who come after them!
Why did you pursue higher education / why are you pursuing higher education?
I wanted to go to college because I liked reading and I liked learning and I liked writing. My parents also value education a lot because they themselves didn’t get the opportunity. If he had the chance, I know my dad would have been a professor or researcher. I’m pursuing higher education for my own self-interest, of course, but the love I have for it came 100% from my parents. They taught me to really, really value learning and knowledge for what it was. They never emphasized that education might lead to better career prospects, but rather that it would lead to being a better person. I’m so grateful for that mindset. So I do it for them, too.
What led you to your current career path? Any inspirations or moments that sparked your interest to pursue it?
I always knew I wanted to be a clinical psychologist growing up (I would google it all the time), but when I read the “get a PhD” part I was like, hm--well, I don’t know if I can do all that. I didn’t know what the expectations were to be accepted into a program. Or even how to ask for rec letters. I would not have pursued this pathway if my professors and mentors didn’t explicitly tell me I could, that it was an avenue, and that they believed in me. Dr. Woods and Dr. Phommasa were the first two women who encouraged me to pursue this pathway - both are first generation themselves.
If at all, how do you relate your ethnic identity to your professional role and goals?
I am passionate about mental health because I grew up not knowing how much it impacted Southeast Asian American families. So my career in mental health will always be intimately tied to being Cambodian, and understanding the Cambodian American experience. In a way, I thought, “Oh, wow. So this doesn’t just occur with my own parents.” In my studies, I hope to understand the role of culture, cultural trauma, and systemic racism on Khmer American mental health. I don’t think it’s a secret that our community is so strongly affected by things like PTSD and depression. But I also think there is much, much more to understand about Cambodian American mental health that goes beyond the genocide. I feel empowered and honored whenever I connect with another Southeast Asian about this topic, too - it’s our ability to be vulnerable with each other & our shared experiences. It’s very very connected to my future goals as a mental health practitioner.
Any words of wisdom or tips you have for fellow SEAA students who are planning on pursuing higher education?
This is easier said than done, but I hope everyone comes as they are and leaves as they came. Your authentic presence does so much to enrich college campuses, even if you won’t always feel like you belong. It makes it a safer, warmer place for the next Southeast Asian. You are good enough and you deserve to go!
( Okay, kind of random, but I always always wish someone had told me this when I started college and was trying to figure out if I could do it: PhD programs will pay you to go. It’s not a lot, but I always imagined it as an impossible thing because who can afford school debt for six extra years? But the right PhD program will provide a stipend for living. )
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