The Koshi Name Means Something: Raised by Quiet Strength

By Susan Koshi | Lady Flava Wellness

I was raised by people who believed in quiet strength.

My father, Rev. Peter T. Koshi, didn’t have to speak loudly to be respected. His presence carried weight, his expectations were clear, and his words—when he chose to speak them—held wisdom and love.

He used to say, “The Koshi name means something.”

That when I stepped outside the doors of our home, I wasn’t just representing myself—I was representing our family.

And I took that seriously.

We were raised with boundaries.

We had chores. Homework. Expectations.

There was no yelling in our house. No public displays of conflict.

We were taught that some things stay within the family—that not every emotion needs a stage, and not every story belongs to the outside world.

There was discipline. There was calm.

And there was pride.

Not boastful pride—but cultural pride.

The kind that came from our Japanese heritage.

I never really knew my German side. My German grandmother didn’t accept us because of our father being Japanese. She rejected us before we ever had a chance to know her.

So my identity—my values, my sense of self—was shaped entirely by my Japanese roots.

And I’m grateful for that.

I was taught to honor my family, to carry myself with dignity, and to speak through my actions, not announcements.

So when I say I don’t feel the need to label myself, introduce myself with pronouns, or explain who I am in every space—it’s not resistance.

It’s culture.

It’s how I was raised.

It’s the deep knowing that who I am shows up in how I live, not in how I identify.

I respect others who express themselves differently—who need to define and declare.

But I hope they’ll also respect that some of us were raised to move through the world without needing to explain ourselves.

We are not less inclusive.

We are not less aware.

We are simply grounded in a different kind of knowing.

My father’s voice still echoes in my spirit:

“The Koshi name means something.”

And so I live with that in mind—every day.

I may not raise my voice, but I carry my legacy.

I may not label myself, but I walk in clarity.

And that, for me, is more than enough.