3.21.21
I’ve been spending the last few days processing the events in Atlanta. The loss of Asian life is absolutely appalling, and first and foremost my thoughts go out to the victims and their families. I cannot fully understand the pain and anguish their families and loved ones are going through right now, but as an Asian American woman, I can imagine. Since hearing about the massacre I’ve been in a perpetual state of grief and anxiety. It could easily have been one of my loved ones, and grappling with that reality has kept me up at night.
They said he had a bad day. They said he had a sex addiction, and that he was just at the end of his rope. Absolute bullshit. Call it what it is: a hate crime. A hate crime that is rooted in hundreds of years of anti-Asian sentiment. Racism is as American as the American flag, and is woven into every fiber of our country. I don’t know who needs to hear it, but America was never great. The Chinese Exclusion Act. The Japanese Internment camps. The horrific bombing and war crimes committed against Asian countries like Vietnam and Laos. Enough is enough.
It goes without saying that if the color of his skin was anything but white, he would’ve been labeled as a “thug,” a “terrorist,” a “murderer.” But white supremacy protects their own, so he was taken alive and unharmed. Even after murdering eight innocent people, they still tried to defend him and justify his actions. Especially in this time of mourning, I think it is important to recognize that Black and Brown men would not have been granted the luxury of humanity in this situation, and are being killed and brutalized at unfathomable rates by the police. And I am not naive enough to believe that there are no anti-Black sentiments in the Asian community —I’ve seen it firsthand, and I know it is unacceptable. The racism and colorism that occurs both between and within the Black and Asian communities only further divides us. There is work to be done. Especially now, our communities need to realize that we are not each other’s enemy and stand together against white supremacy.
But my life and the lives of those who look like me should not hang in a precarious balance between life and death, with our fates to be decided by white men who fetishize and objectify us. As I grew older, I started waking up to the reality that we are not welcome in this country.
It started out small. It was eyes pulled back to mimic mine. It was “nihao” and “go back home” shouted at me on my walk back to my dorm freshman year of college by a crowd of drunk white boys. It was being asked “where are you from? No, where are you really from?” by strangers. It was my ethnicity being turned into a guessing game for men in a bar. It was being asked if I do “karate like Jackie Chan.” It was fearing for my family’s safety during the rise of covid because I knew just how dangerous the anti-Asian rhetoric from our former president could be. It was anything but small.
My life and my voice are insignificant in the grand scheme of things, I know that. But I also know that almost all of my Asian friends and family have had similar experiences. It breaks my heart to know that my loved ones have endured so much pain, but we are strong. I’ve been silent about this for so long because it was uncomfortable to think about. It was easier to brush off these everyday microaggressions and acts of racism than face the truth — that myself and others that look like me are not welcome here. I held my tongue because I wanted to spare the feelings of my white peers. But I know that I can’t be silent for any longer, because my brothers and sisters are dying.
There is so much more that I have to say. I am heartbroken. Exhausted. Scared. Angry. These are some words that describe the reality of my past few days, but words on a page will never even begin to capture the depth to which I am feeling them. I feel these things in every fiber of my being. And I’m tired of feeling this way. This is our home. We belong here. And I will continue to speak out and advocate for my community and our place in this country — whatever it takes, as long as it takes.
