Alistair Stephenson on His Personal Life, Progressive Politics, and Pinky Promises

Hapa Mag - SEPTEMBER 16, 2020

By Lauren Hardie and Lauren W.

Photos by Lauren Nakao Winn

“Hey team — I’m running a bit behind, can we do 10.15?” Alistair Stephenson’s email comes through with a calm and clear tone about two minutes to 10 a.m. The strategic communications professional and political enthusiast apologizes for having what he describes only as “some very boring laundromat drama.” Our response — “Email us when you're good to go!” — totally belies the chaos in the background. I was experiencing a very on-brand-for-2020 demonstration of Murphy’s Law, including Wi-Fi trouble during a torrential downpour on top of running terribly late. But by the time I, along with Hapa Mag Creative Director Lauren Winn, settle in to our Zoom call with Alistair, the mood has shifted. Donning a cap and a c/o ’89 T-shirt (and later, for the photoshoot, a gold pinky-swear pendant to match his tattoo), his calm and friendly nature sets the cadence of our interview. 

In fact, despite the difference in scale, I can’t help but draw a parallel between the chaos of the day and the apocalyptic dumpster fire that is the current American political landscape. And yet, here’s someone putting me at ease with both. As casual as our conversation is, Alistair’s genuine interest in — and unshakable commitment to — the advancement of progressive policies is… inspiring. And he manages to share his perspective without spewing the anger or vitriol common in such discussions. As calmly as though talking about a laundry mishap. 

“In Australia, we don’t throw the word Hapa around quite as much,” says Alistair, when we ask about his Hapaness. “Eurasian is more the vernacular, but I definitely do identify with Hapa.” Getting more specific, he tells us his mom is Chinese Malayasian, while his dad is mostly English with a little bit of Scottish, French, and Irish mixed in. Although his Twitter bio states otherwise (“i identify first and foremost as an @ewarren gay”), Alistair declares himself as an Australian. “‘Australian is weirdly sort of both a nationality and an ethnicity. So I identify as half-Chinese and then half-Australian. But my nationality is Australian.”

Beyond mere appearances, Alistair elaborates on his Hapaness, and gives us an incredibly thoughtful response, returning to the topic several times throughout our call. At one point, he looks out the window, considering his words, opting instead to set up a familiar scenario — the “where are you really from?” experience. We all know it. It’s a question that often makes mixed folks cringe. Except, Alistair loves that people can’t figure it out. “What makes me Hapa is never being what people expect and surprising people in terms of your personal story and where you come from. It’s about leaning into that and not conveniently putting yourself in a box just so people understand you better.” Putting yourself in a proverbial box might make others a bit more comfortable, but Alistair says he’s not about that life. “People in modern communities are still figuring out what Hapa people look like. There’s this curious blend of different cultures, and it’s never quite what you expect. I really love that we exceed people’s expectations.” 

The very idea of identity is still a tricky one, because don’t we all have many identities? For Alistair, “There’s being from Australia, being cis, being gay, my ethnic identities of Chinese Malaysian and white Australian. All these things come together, and I’m not thinking about each of them every second of every day.” And conveying all of this information to folks is kind of awkward. “I guess people don’t ask how all these identities shape your worldview, who you are, and your values because it’s a complicated question with a complicated answer,” he says. There is really no short answer to the question about Hapaness. Yet, it’s a question Alistair says he loves, because he struggles with it.

This nuanced and complex response is, honestly, delightful to hear. And it tracks with Hapa Mag’s purpose of elevating and sharing the niche expressions that come with who we are as mixed-Asians and multidimensional people. While it’s clearly something he’s given a lot of thought, he seems to still be thinking. Processing. It’s relatable. 

Another relatable experience for a number of Hapas is the concept of passing. “I present as quite white to some people. I present as completely Asian to others,” Alistair says, which might explain why he never felt an overt sense of racism while growing up in Australia, a country that has harbored its fair share of that classic foreigners-are-coming-and-taking-our-jobs sentiment toward individuals of Asian descent. 

That’s not to say he didn’t experience any negativity at all. In fact, his relationship with being Asian is complicated. Seeking out the best opportunities for her son, Alistair says his mother sent him to prestigious, private, and, as it happens, predominantly white institutions. “My mom did the best she could to help me fit in and give me the Australian opportunity, but it also comes with its own baggage and a bit of a price. I definitely experienced a low-level ‘othering,’ even if it wasn’t derogatory terms.” And after a lot of time and effort, he’s learned which parts of his whiteness to take on, which parts to reject, and how best to navigate. “You can’t just go through life being like, ‘Hi, my name is Alistair Stephenson. I’m white, even though I look Asian. I’m just like you.’ That doesn’t work.”

There are easily a number of things that stand out about Alistair — he’s the deputy chief of staff at a communications agency doing incredible progressive and racial justice work; he has a law degree and has done extensive work with creative agencies; and from what we know so far, he’s an all-round nice guy. But when Winn first pitched this story, about a millennial Hapa from Australia who was canvassing for Elizabeth Warren during the 2020 Democratic Presidential Primary, she had one burning question: Who the fuck moves to the U.S. to get involved with our busted politics?!

“I’ve always been a bit of a political animal, and I’ve always been drawn to the bigger political scene in the U.S. There’s certainly that entire world in Australia, but you have leaders here who are setting the tone for the rest of the world.” Despite the prestigious schools (another h/t to mum’s dedication), the law degree, and having a completely different career back home (working with corporate consultancies and creative agencies), Alistair has always loved progressive values and the bigger political project of fighting for justice. “Eventually I was like, this side passion of mine needs to become my proper job in life. [And] if I’m gonna make a big change, I may as well make a big change.” He applied to all the ACLUs and got placed in Detroit. 

He’s enthusiastic when talking about the Midwestern city, pointing out its important place in America’s political history — it’s 80% Black, it’s the heart of manufacturing, it has birthed revolutionaries and uprisings. Although he’s speaking with us from his apartment in New York, he mentions that some things get filtered when living in a giant city. “I thought that working in Detroit would humbly teach me a lot of what it means to be an American, and what people care about in the most authentic way.”

But his gateway to falling in love with American politics started in Australia with women’s rights and climate justice movements. Knowing from the beginning that he wanted to support Elizabeth Warren, Alistair says he never cared whether or not she’d win the candidacy — believing in what she stands for was enough. Yet for so much of America, elections are a cutthroat fight to the death. It’s all about winning. 

When asked about his thoughts on electability, his posture shifts somewhat. He uncrosses his arms — he must have folded them when we started leading into this question — and inhales deeply. Then, with the same tone one would drop any other indisputable fact, like climate change is real or puppies are cute, Alistair states: Electability is a super damaging idea. “People have such a damaged relationship with the value women bring to society. It’s obvious the patriarchy has warped all of us, even the most liberal and well-intentioned. It’s important to me to intentionally seek out women’s leadership because it feels different and we haven’t experienced it.”

It’s at this point a call comes through on another computer in the room. He checks to confirm that his actual phone is on silent, then gets up, walks across his living room, silences the call, and jumps back into the conversation seamlessly. I read this as just another example of his overall unflustered nature, and his ability to remain coolheaded when things go wrong. 

We figured that as a volunteer canvasser for Warren, a lot of things could have gone wrong. Texting, phone-banking, and especially door-knocking sounds absolutely anxiety-inducing. “I loved every second of it,” says Alistair, grinning. The self-declared extrovert explains that meeting new people was a huge privilege. “I got to go out and get to know my community in a completely intentional and different kind of way. I got to talk about something I’m passionate about, and do it hundreds or thousands of times. It was one of the better experiences in my life, for sure.” 

Even showing up as a total outsider — a Hapa immigrant — Alistair says that being different doesn’t have to be a bad thing. “It never really presented as a huge barrier because it gives you a different way in to connect,” he explains, walking us through it all. “You could say, ‘I’m actually an immigrant. I’m from Australia, and I moved here because I’m super passionate about making changes in the community,’ and they would ask, ‘What do you mean by that?” and I could say, “Oh, in Australia we’ve had nationalized health care for as long as I can remember, and that has made such a big difference in my life, in my family’s life, and in the lives of everyone that I care about. I know what it’s like to have this, and we don’t have it in America.’ In that way, you can really flip the script on people.”

The bigger discussion, says Alistair, is about comparing how things are different (for example, in Australia and the U.S.), rather than getting too caught up with needing to present immediate commonalities in order to connect. “It can trip you up a little bit. If you lean in to why you’re different, and use it as a starting place, it can help you find a different way in.” And it’s in that moment of surprise — when people let you in and you’re not what they expect — that Alistair relishes.

Breaking it down for us, his winning formula sounds almost too simple: Tell a bit of your personal story, talk about the issue that you care about, and leave it with people. Step back and give people the space to react to it in whatever way they want. Done. “We’re not taking them from 0 to 10. We’re taking them from 0 to 4, and that’s a huge win. If you can do that with enough people, you’ve completely activated a whole electorate.”

Getting the layperson — me, Winn, you (our reader) — involved in social causes and community organizing is important, according to Alistair, because it teaches you so much about what it means to be in your community. “I think anyone and everyone should be organizing at some point in your life,” he says, even if traditional leadership isn’t your thing, and even if you’re an introvert. In fact, he’s found that some of the most effective community leaders were introverts. “Leadership can be modeled in all sorts of ways… [and] there are many different ways to contribute.”

Without a trace of arrogance, Alistair tells us that one of his gifts is being able to spot someone’s talent, then pushing them in the most positive way. “People are very much locked into this idea that they have to confront other people in order to contribute or campaign,” he says. “But if you just show up, we’ll find a way for you to contribute meaningfully.”

On its face, the term “politics” isn’t a great starting point for people, says Alistair. But everything we do has a cause and effect on what’s happening in our community. “It turns a lot of people off, but in reality people take actions every day that are inherently political,” he says. “Whether you decide to tip someone or mow your neighbor’s lawn, these things don’t necessarily sound political, but you’re taking actions to make an influence on your community, and politics actually needs to be about that.” Too often, people think they need to become politically engaged every big presidential election, he explains. “But what’s more important is that you do the community organizing. These two things need to live in parallel.”

As is his nature, Alistair makes it sound easy. In fact, he says all we really need to do is live more intentionally in our respective communities. “If you’re already doing that, you’re already doing a great job... Put [yourself] out there like 5%. Then trust that the process will lead to the bigger or more ‘important’ things. That first step is key.”

Our conversation meanders, as they sometimes do, and somewhere between the rambly tangents and his occasional sips of iced coffee, we ask about his tattoo. Reaching his left arm back to touch his shoulder blade, Alistair reveals (upside down to us) the pinky swear line tattoo on his tricep, which depicts the gesture that represents a promise.

A clear nod to his dedication to Elizabeth Warren, Alistair explains the backstory. “She famously did those selfie lines, and she’d always kneel down to little girls and say, ‘Girls run for president, that’s what girls do. Pinky promise if you understand.’” Locking his own pinkies together for emphasis, he says he was touched by Warren’s gesture because it “felt completely presidential to model leadership in that way.” He contrasts this image with the masculinizing and militarizing of power that’s often taught with regard to what it means to be a leader. Careful to not gender a gesture, he says, “I like that it’s a softer way to show a commitment to someone else.”

It seems apparent, though, that the tattoo also represents a promise he’s made to himself to keep doing this type of work, to always push himself, to connect with people, and to push for things to be better. Part of his Hapa story includes growing up with Chinese immigrant values — discipline, focus, excellence, success, and growth — that he internalized, in good ways and bad. “When I moved out of that [corporate] world and into movement work, it was really hard for me.” He worried maybe he had made a huge mistake, but he knew it felt right. “Now that I’ve experienced it, I’m like, ‘Not only was it not a mistake, but more people need to make that jump.’ So, I’m committed to staying in this world and making sure that I continue to grow and change. When I have moments of doubt in movement work, my instinct isn’t to run away from it but lean into the difficulty.”

Regarding the upcoming election, Alistair confirms that he is 100% still in this fight. “We need more people who can both lead or manage a complicated operation in social justice and movement work, as well as be the very important person on the front line, the foot soldier, the organizer. We need millions of people to be great at both.”

Considering the exhausting nature of American politics, our forward-looking conversation about community organizing, and generally giving a damn about others, brings a sense of clarity to what otherwise feels like chaos. To me, it seems, we need more Alistair Stephensons around, leading with aplomb while encouraging us to do just a little bit better, and keep our promises.