Personal Experiences/Reflections
The racism I have encountered throughout my life has been much more subtle, filled with micro aggressions, whether it’s being “other-ed” by my white peers, either being fetishized or deemed undesirable, being mistaken for another Asian American, or having my personality reduced to “quiet” by teachers, regardless of my achievement or participation in class. Because my own experiences of racism have never gone deeper than this, I have internalized the idea that it is okay for the racism Asian Americans face to be overlooked. At the start of the pandemic, I started seeing hate crimes against Asian Americans occur on the news and reading instances of them being assaulted verbally and physically–– I now had two reasons to stay home as much as possible. I have been fortunate enough to have not experienced any direct acts of racism against me. But seeing these events occur on the news, in places and communities near and dear to me, have hurt me just as much.
It would be an understatement to say that my mental health deteriorated after the Atlanta shooting. I remember first hearing about it–– I completely ignored it and refused to engage. I had a busy day ahead of me. However, when I finally got through that day and learned more about it, I felt something I had never experienced before –– I felt completely numb. The past racial injustices that have occurred throughout 2020, such as the murders of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor, have filled me with instantaneous anger, grieve, and so many more emotions at once. With the Atlanta shooting, it was the complete opposite. So I just sat in my bed for a while, with tears in my eyes waiting to fall.
I couldn’t sleep that night, and over the next few days, that numbness subsided. My emotions started to crack through, until finally, I felt an overflow of immense grievance, anger, and distress. How could people be so cruel? How could some people justify the shooting? How are we expected to go outside again?
It has been even more heartbreaking to learn that so many more Asian Americans have had the same experiences as me. Unfortunately, even with all of the awareness that has been raised, hate crimes against Asian Americans didn’t stop right after the Atlanta shooting. Shortly after, the Colorado shooting occurred, and many more Asian American elders would be verbally and physically assaulted.
The racism people of color face in America runs deep and is embedded in our society, so I don’t expect anti-Asian hate crimes or violence to stop anytime soon. However, I do hope that we continue this dialogue, uplifting and protecting marginalized communities, and educating others so that one day we can peacefully coexist.
Maria:
I’ll be honest: this year has been difficult as an Asian American. I can still clearly recall the day in March when my neighbors decided to call my parents “Chinese virus,” as they were grabbing our mail. In response, my mother told me to be careful and keep my distance from others; to make myself non-threatening, and to appear as “American” as possible. In mid-July, a white woman screamed at me while I was running to inform me that she felt unsafe in my socially distanced presence. There have been dozens of other memories from the past year where people actively avoided me in a manner that seemed to go beyond social distancing. Paranoia has seeped into my consciousness, and frankly, it’s difficult for me to suddenly relax around other people after a year of being on exhausting high alert. Maybe it doesn’t all have to do with race, but as I’ve become well-acquainted with crossing the street so other people won’t be wary of me, I think this pandemic has also taught me about the model minority myth I’ve internalized in my mind as well.
After the Atlanta shootings, I felt numb. I didn’t know how to process an event that served as a reminder of the inevitable fetishization of Asian women like myself. I attended class as usual without deviating from my responsibilities; I archived emails from deans and departments who offered half-hearted condolences; I smiled and said “I’m fine,” to anyone who asked, because it was a proven survival strategy that I had practiced since the beginning of the pandemic. It didn’t occur to me that I was allowed to be upset and grieve about what had occurred. Even in my mind, I simply marginalized my own feelings with a dismissive, “other people have it worse.” I think I hit a breaking point when I realized that I was censoring my own thoughts before they could even begin because of how deeply ingrained the model minority myth had been instilled into me. I couldn’t give myself the self-respect to take up space about Asian American issues because it felt ridiculous and unnecessary.
So I say all of this not to victimize myself, but to share my experiences in the hopes of potentially validating someone else’s. This year has been incredibly difficult for so many reasons, but particularly for Asian Americans, who finally have a platform to speak only because of the profound loss the community has had to shoulder this year. Asian Americans deserve to take up space and speak their minds, and I hope that this project makes it evident that their stories have always needed to be told; it’s just only more recently that that’s felt like a more feasible goal.
Sijia:
During the very beginning of the bursting out of COVID-19, my doctor at that time told, “Well SIjia, I can promise you, after some time - I don’t know how long - there will be severe social issues about racism coming up. You can never imagine that, because the situation will always be more severe than you’d imagine.” At that time, I did not understand what she was saying very much, but I still remembered what she said; yet now looking back, how can I not foresee this trend - a trend in which a disaster can be easily politicized and weaponized? When the Atlanta shooting happened, I felt so heart-broken and deeply hurted, but not shocked. I thought in my mind, “Ah, it comes.” When I was doing research on the history of prostitution in Los Angeles Chinatown, I gradually learned how the hypersexualized and disease-carrier image of Asian women had been constructed through the history. What makes me sad is that this image still exists. Hence, maybe there is no better time than now for us to really ponder upon what is truly going on in our society.
Weidi:
In the LA polymathic inquiry class taught by Professor William Deverell and Professor Karin Huebner, I had a chance to explore the history of the very first Chinese immigrants in LA. This is my first time learning about the history of my own people on this land. On one hand, our shared cultural background makes me understand their stories better; on the other hand, my heart trembles when reading the notorious and violent history of my Chinese ancestor being mistreated, lynched, and excluded on this land. Like all my Chinese ancestors in California, I was confused by the state government’s decision to add an extra tax solely on Chinese miners, mourn for the dead fellow Chinese during the 1871 massacre, and raged against the pass of 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act. I locked up myself in my room and went through all these dark pages on my own.
For the yearlong research project of this class, I choose to dig into the legal experience of the early Chinese immigrants in LA. I was surprised to find that while being mistreated by the systemic racism in the judicial branch, early Chinese immigrants demonstrated great acumen in fighting for their civil rights both inside and outside of the courts. They rallied on the street, voiced their cries on newspapers, and delivered eloquent speeches in the courtroom. Walking through that shared heartbreaking history strengthens my connection to the Chinese community, while seeing how my ancestors fought for their rights makes me even more proud of being Chinese.