A Cambodian-American’s Perspective: the Unrest in Minneapolis
On May 27th, 2020, the cities that I’ve lived almost my entire life in went from peaceful protests of a police-related killing of an unarmed Black man to burning after night had fallen. The next day my best friend texted me telling me that there was rioting. Six hours later, I found out that riots had broken out near my parents’ home where my younger brother lives. I contacted him and he told me that he heard gunshots nearby. I told him to take some precautions and don’t go out unless absolutely necessary.
Incidentally, it was also his 24th birthday. Hell of a birthday present.
As I was informing myself on the situation, my concerns started to grow. My best friend and I were keeping tabs on the situation as best as we could via livestreams being broadcast from the streets. We’re both night owls, so we were watching everything unfold in real time.
I was relatively safe where I was. However, I was very concerned for my best friend who lives in very close proximity to the unrest. Two days later, we decided to shelter together as a curfew had been put in place the day before, COVID be damned because to us it was more important that we were able to make sure we were both safe. My roommate and I packed some clothes, tools, and our computers, and we headed to my best friend’s house to make sure that she and her family, including her child, was safe as the city was beginning to descend into chaos around us.
See, my best friend lives in Minneapolis. I live in St. Paul. Both cities are known as the Twin Cities and whenever something happens in one city, it’ll generally happen in the other. They’re separated by only ten miles and a series of suburbs and retail between them and are connected via Interstate 94. The riots stemmed from the killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis. Despite wearing a toughened exterior to make sure my loved ones felt safe, I can’t say that I wasn’t worried and a little scared, especially since the tension in the air was so thick it was palpable.
And yet, I understood it. I understood the anger. I understood why it was all happening. I’m a Queer Cambodian-American man. My skin is darker than the “typical” Asian-American as Cambodia is located in Southeast Asia where the people are generally of darker skin tone. I also dress like someone who lives in the inner city and am not only an avid fan of rap music and hip hop culture, but also an active participant in it as I’ve been a hip hop DJ for 16 years. I’ve been racially profiled multiple times, but nowhere near as much as Black people and, before a few years ago, didn’t understand just how bad it was.
I remembered one incident I experienced and how it felt to be pulled over and not be given a clear reason why, taken out of my car, then my belongings searched and how demoralized I felt. I remembered that the Christian rapper that I was working with — who was Black — was sitting in the back of a police SUV in handcuffs while I waited outside as the officer searched through our belongings trying to find something. It still makes me seethe with anger to this day. I remembered when I looked and saw the look on the face of the rapper I had a professional relationship with sitting in the back of that SUV. At that moment, it was like I was struck by lightning.
If you’re Black in America, this is a common reality. From that moment on I began to understand why there is so much outrage whenever someone dies at the hands of police in America, whether it be via shooting or kneeling on someone’s neck. The unrest in my home city is simply a reaction to that. Peaceful protests weren’t getting the message across and the anger and frustration began to boil over and finally manifested itself in the form of violent civil unrest.
But, for an Asian-American, the lines of race tend to be a bit blurry. Asians in America, regardless of which ethnic group they belong to, are treated as a model minority. We’re seen as the “educated law-abiding citizens” that other minorities “should aspire to be.” The stereotype is that other minorities are prone to crime and dependency on government assistance whereas Asians aren’t.
It’s INFURIATING — and not just because it isn’t true. The model minority myth is so often used as a wedge to drive division between Asian Americans and black Americans. To pit one minority against another. I’ve seen this in my own parents, who are heavily prejudiced against Black Americans. This is despite the fact that they themselves are immigrants who survived the Cambodian Genocide. They have an understanding of what happens when a government systematically oppresses a people group in an especially extreme case. Yet they seem to be blind at the systematic prejudices that they themselves deal with as non-native English speakers and how that same system treats Black Americans.
However, instead of discouraging me from associating with Black Americans, I instead sought to stand in solidarity with Black Americans and all people of color in America. I started to see just how systemic and widespread the issues and prejudices are and continue to be. Regardless of background, I want to take a stand for the equality of all people of color. It’s not just a Black issue. It’s an issue that affects all people of color in a country where there is an overt bias against those very same people of color. I got sick of the model minority and sought to speak out as a creative artist. I understand that “Black Lives Matter” does NOT mean “Black Lives Matter more than yours,” it means “Black Lives Matter! So respect that they are living, breathing human beings.”
Police brutality makes me angry regardless of ethnicity, but it is especially so if the circumstances show a clear-cut prejudice against minorities with no recourse. And I refuse to pretend that discrimination against Asian-Americans in America doesn’t exist. It does. And it means that I’m on the same side as Black Americans and the Black Lives Matter movement and as such, I’m fighting for the same thing.
If that means I get labelled as a troublemaker for not following the model minority, so be it.
Black Lives Matter.
