There was a time when I was young, naive and just plain oblivious. Oblivious to my community and what ‘community’ itself meant to me. Time went on into college. Then constant discrimination, racism and sexism bore its ugly face in my encounters with random strangers, my classrooms and my workplace. As a daily interpreter for my parents, nothing hits home harder than when banks, healthcare providers, and insurance companies take advantage of their good faith in them.  It drew the line for me. My mind was bombarded. Why are my parents plagued with such obstacles? Why are we stuck in this stagnant stage of oppression? It wasn’t just me and my parents’ experiences. It’s a similar story of many immigrant families. Enough was enough. I threw myself in community work. I had a renewed understanding that I couldn’t continue being silent. Because silence is what killed my parents’ sense of livelihood in the ‘American Dream’ and silence is what led me to allow it to happen. We all know about the elusive so-called Minnesota (passive …