Untold Silicon Valley stories show it hasn’t changed by that much

This past Friday, the documentary was screened at Cinepolis in San Mateo, where a packed house celebrated its upcoming PBS syndication. The most striking moments for me came not from the boardrooms or IPOs, but from the families left in the wake of innovation. David Tsang’s surviving daughter Elain notes in the film that during his eulogy, his acquaintances told so many stories she had never heard. Later, she reads from his journals where he questions whether missing all of those important family moments and milestones was worth it in the end. It is the consummate question for anyone building, as if work-life balance is a luxury reserved for those who never choose the founder’s path. It’s still a very real question. 

Each of these visionaries carries a legacy larger than themselves. Kenneth Fong’s Clontech Laboratories became essential to scientists worldwide, then his Kenson Ventures multiplied opportunity for the next generation of entrepreneurs. Hsing Kung both scaled companies and  built civic bridges and mentored young leaders long before Asian Americans were expected and welcome in civic conversations. Ta-Lin Hsu pioneered venture flows across the Pacific decades before globalization became a cliché, ensuring capital could meet talent wherever it emerged. And David Tsang showed us what reinvention looked like from disk drives to semiconductors to Michelin-recognized steak.

But for all their success, their stories underline a deeper structural truth that Shyu highlights: Silicon Valley has long relied on AAPI talent but has always been reluctant to elevate their  leaders. The “model minority” myth celebrated productivity but sidelined vision, welcoming immigrants as engineers but not executives, builders but not decision-makers. 

Even today, diversity and representation remain talking points in tech boardrooms, yet these things still too seldom exist in decision-making spaces. As a three-time c-suite software executive over the past 15 years, I have always been the only AAPI person (and woman) at the table. It is a reality I acknowledge for myself while I mentor and support others hopefully toward a different reality. I loved Shyu’s callout of Morris Chang, who hit the bamboo ceiling and was passed for Texas Instrument CEO so he went back to Taiwan and founded Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Corporation and transformed the tiny island into what continues to be the world’s center of silicon chipmaking.

The stakes are obvious — untold stories remind us how easily history is forgotten and what’s lost when people are left out of the room where policies are written, priorities are set and futures are defined without the very communities living and building the foundation.

And this is exactly why the civic dimension of the documentary matters. At the San Mateo screening, Foster City Councilmember Phoebe Shin Venkat shared her own journey into public service and Assemblymember Evan Low was interviewed in the documentary as the face of the next generation of AAPI leaders in public office. Rose Tseng is highlighted in the film as the first AAPI university chancellor and shared an important call to action during the panel. These are  important reminders that AAPI communities must step into civic life through elected, appointed and other mostly volunteer roles to represent a large voting block that too often has been better known for looking away than speaking up.

Silicon Valley has, at its core, always been about building a legacy worth passing on to future generations. Shyu leaves us with this important message — that to honor these legacies, we must tell their stories, question what it takes to create success here and insist the next generation takes its rightful seat at the table. It means those in leadership and elected roles must make the time to mentor the next generation of future leaders. Many are, and the work grows.