While working on her memoir, Connie Chung uncovered an unexpected aspect of her legacy.

Despite her groundbreaking career in television — as the second woman and the first Asian to co-anchor a national evening news broadcast — she often doubted her level of success and its significance. “I could never bring myself to call myself a success,” she shared with YSL News. She recalled watching her male colleagues assertively declaring, “I am very impressive!”

She wondered, “What gives them the confidence to say that?” Even in her book, “Connie,” which will be released on Tuesday by Grand Central, she expressed her uncertainty about how much credit she deserved.

Then an unexpected email arrived from a young Asian American woman who told her how she came to share the name Connie.

Connie Wang, who wrote the email, had picked the name for herself. At the age of three, after her family emigrated from China, her parents asked her to choose an English name. The toddler suggested the names of two friendly TV characters: Connie or Elmo.

It wasn’t until she moved to California to attend the University of California, Berkeley, where she found a significant Asian student community, that she met others who shared the name Connie and discovered “a sisterhood of Connies.”

Over the past twenty-five years, daughters of immigrants from China, Taiwan, Korea, Japan, and Vietnam have been given the name Connie, sometimes even including the middle name “Chung,” as a way to instill the aspiration of following in her courageous and noteworthy footsteps.

“It took me thirty years to understand how much Connie Chung has influenced my experience as a woman, an Asian American, and a minority in journalism,” Connie Wang, now 36 and currently on maternity leave, expressed. “As I began to forge my own path as a first-generation immigrant, I’ve never felt entirely alone; Connie paved the way first, with such bravery and flair.”

When Chung heard these heartfelt messages from Wang and other “Connies,” she felt “flabbergasted.”

So, does she now perceive herself as successful? “Well, sort of,” she replied, laughing, still hesitant about boasting at the age of 78.

‘Speaks too softly’

The original Connie Chung received her name from her four sisters, who selected it from a film magazine after considering Constance Moore, an actress with an array of mostly forgettable roles.

Constance Yu-hwa Chung was the youngest of ten children, the only one born in the U.S. She was so shy as a child that her teacher once noted on her report card: “Speaks too softly.”

However, she found her voice—and her calling—when she took a part-time job as a gofer in the newsroom at WTTG-TV, a local Metromedia station in Washington, D.C. After two years, she left her biology studies at the University of Maryland and began working at the CBS Washington Bureau. At just 25, she was tasked with covering George McGovern’s presidential campaign.

Author Timothy Crouse referred to her as “Connie Chung, the attractive Chinese CBS correspondent” in his classic book “The Boys on the Bus” that chronicled that campaign. He described her as “sharp, alert,” and tireless—she was the only female journalist regularly present on the campaign bus and the first Asian correspondent in such a high-profile role on network television.

She expressed in an interview how journalism “intoxicated” her. “Once I set my mind on this path, I was incredibly driven to succeed.”

A photograph from 1974, during President Richard Nixon’s impeachment hearings, captures Chung among a crowd of white male reporters, all trying to engage with congressmen. With a Sony recorder in one arm and a determined look on her face, she stood out.

To cope with the assertive men surrounding her, she started mirroring their behavior, adopting their bravado, and matching their choice of strong language. She dismissed sexual harassment as if brushing away an annoying fly; she recalled instances like when McGovern tried to kiss her in a dim hallway or when Jimmy Carter leaned in closely at a dinner. “And then he turned to me and smiled,” she commented.

“I felt like an aardvark,” she recalled, feeling completely different from those around her. “Not only was I wearing a skirt, but I also had this distinct ‘lotus blossom’ appearance.” She playfully cupped her face with her hands, mimicking a geisha’s gentle smile. “That made them regard me with confusion. ‘How do we interact with her?’ they must have thought.”

She recounted experiences of facing sexual harassment and racial comments, remembering Unsure of how to reply, I simply moved on and posed my question instead.

In her personal life, she adhered to the role of a dutiful Chinese daughter.

Her parents’ marriage in China was arranged—traditional and devoid of love. Her father began his career in the family’s jewelry shop, later becoming a spy for Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek’s government. Eventually, he made his way to the United States while accompanying Chinese Air Force cadets in training. His wife and their four children undertook a perilous journey during wartime to join him.

When the Communists seized power in China, he took on a role as an accountant for both a U.N. agency and a government entity, until a heart attack forced him into retirement.

“While my four older sisters got married and adopted American lifestyles,” she shares, “I followed the Chinese path.” She became the primary earner, a responsibility she would maintain throughout her parents’ lives, even after marrying talk show host Maury Povich at the age of 38.

“I embodied a heightened sense of duty,” she notes. “I was not just a woman, but a Chinese woman.”

Walter Cronkite’s chair, or at least part of it

Working in key positions at a CBS affiliate in Los Angeles, at NBC News, and then back at CBS, Chung earned a reputation as a confident anchor and an adept interviewer. She conducted the first and only national TV interview with the Exxon Valdez’s captain after the environmental disaster and was the first to interview basketball legend Magic Johnson following his HIV announcement.

In 1993, she landed her dream job: Walter Cronkite’s chair—or a portion of it—on the “CBS Evening News.”

“In that moment, I thought, ‘I’ve conquered the highest peak,'” she reflects. She had watched Cronkite broadcast the news every evening alongside her parents. “Walter was my hero. I aspired to be Walter Cronkite, and I became a part of him,” as the co-anchor, if not the sole anchor. “It was an electrifying experience.”

At that time, the only woman who had previously co-anchored the evening news was Barbara Walters at ABC, and it had been 15 years since her departure from that position after a tumultuous stint with partner Harry Reasoner.

This time, much like back then, the co-anchor was not particularly welcoming.

Dan Rather was “hesitant” to share the anchor role, as Chung describes it. “I suspect that even if they assigned a dog, a cat, or a plant as his co-anchor, it wouldn’t have changed his attitude. I was just the unfortunate target of his, shall we say, negativity.”

At one moment, Rather suggested they grab coffee but directed her to remain in the studio. “I’ll take care of the stories out there, and you can handle the teleprompter,” he instructed. She felt too stunned to reply. When she reported this to CBS News’ president, he sided with Rather.

In retrospect, she questions why she didn’t stand up for herself more forcefully. She regrets not seeking CBS’s support when her interview with House Speaker Newt Gingrich’s mother sparked controversy. “That was probably the biggest error I made in my career,” she admits. “I was still the compliant employee.”

After two years on air, she was abruptly let go from “CBS Evening News.”

This occurred on a Thursday, and by Saturday, she and Povich received news that their adoption process, which had taken two years, was finally successful. Their son, Matthew, was on the way, leading her life in a new direction. “Looking back, I consider myself fortunate to have two remarkable men in my life, M and M—Maury and Matthew. They loved me, and I loved them in return. Jobs don’t offer the same kind of affection that Maury and Matthew do,” she reflects.

Is sisterhood truly powerful? Not always.

Nevertheless, retirement wasn’t on her horizon. Two years later, she joined ABC News as co-anchor and correspondent for the prime-time news magazine “20/20,” working alongside Diane Sawyer and Walters.

“I assumed the women would unite to challenge the men; I envisioned a powerful trio,” she recalls. “However, Diane and Barbara had a different perspective. They were locked in their own battles against each other. I found myself thinking, ‘What was I expecting?’ I was naïve.” She had “landed in a conflict zone.” The atmosphere was toxic, and rivalry was intense.

For the record, she sided with Walters. “Barbara earned her diva status,” Chung asserts. “If Barbara desired something, she should have it because she worked tirelessly and cleared a path for us.” In her publication, she articulated, “The first one who breaks through the door is often the most affected.”

Some Asian women, however, voice concerns about Chung.