Allies, Ask This Question First
“I want to talk about the violence against Asian elders,” my friend said. “Can I? I don’t want to distract from Black history month.” This simple question burst a nagging bubble growing inside me over the past year. I’ve felt reassured by the number of my GSB classmates who supported the Movement for Black Lives this summer with urgency. Still, there is more we can do as a community to situate the egregious police violence against Black people within a larger conversation around racial justice. The ultimate purpose of racism is to oppress communities of color. On the outside, that oppression can look culturally specific and historically rooted. The recent rise in anti-Asian hate crimes tied to the outbreak of COVID-19 — including attacks on elders during Lunar New Year last month — is just one example of oppression.
The answer to my friend’s question starts with solidarity. In this context, solidarity means that you recognize the struggle for racial justice as your own, no matter your race. If you are upset by anti-Black police violence, you can also be upset by anti-Asian violence. That’s because solidarity starts with a simple question: “How can I relate?”
I’ve been inspired by the solidarity of activists in my own Japanese American community. After winning reparations from the US government for the Internment of 120,000 Japanese Americans during WWII, survivors and their descendants have stood in solidarity with multiple communities and issues. Groups like Tsuru for Solidarity have protested the deportation and family separation of immigrants to the United States. Now, they are advocating for Black reparations to members of Congress.
Most of these Japanese American activists are generations removed from the Internment. They’ve used testimony from their ancestors to recognize modern-day injustice. When I see headlines about mass incarceration, police violence, or immigrant detention, I think of the stories my mother passed-down to me about my great-grandfather. The FBI hauled him away from his home in Seattle as a Prisoner of War the day Japan bombed Pearl Harbor. He was a community leader and successful entrepreneur — and Japanese. The pain of his story has not diminished with time. Like many Japanese American activists, I’ve found healing by lending my voice and being in community with others supporting racial justice more broadly.
I realize most people don’t share my family history. If you are White, you may even be thinking, “I don’t experience racism. How can I possibly understand it?” I’ve seen so many of my White friends and classmates react with defensiveness, disbelief, and discomfort any time an experience of discrimination is mentioned, including at the GSB. You may not be the target of racism, but you might still react when it comes up. And, no matter our race, we all know how it feels to not belong.
As a co-creator of the Pods program this fall, I’ve seen first-hand how stories can help my classmates relate across differences. In my pod, we all had something to say. Speaking about ways that our religious or political identity, class background, gender, sexuality, or pre-GSB field had impacted our daily experience at GSB offered powerful points of connection. It helped me recognize and see beyond my initial fears and biases. It also made me feel comfortable sharing my own experiences around race.
Conversation programs like Pods are just a start. They don’t replace anti-racism education or awareness building. They don’t replace donations or showing up at protests. They aren’t reparations or legislation that addresses historical wrongs. Starting with a solidarity mindset helps make conversation and action more meaningful. It can help us push back against the zero-sum mentality that makes people question, for example, their desire to acknowledge anti-Asian violence and celebrate Black history month simultaneously.
Solidarity doesn’t have to be complicated. Here in the Bay Area, a multi-racial coalition of community groups organized to respond to anti-Asian violence in February. They raised awareness, led mutual aid fundraisers, and mobilized people for protests. Hundreds of people volunteered to escort elders in their community in lieu of more policing. They drew a direct connection between the multiracial response to police violence this summer and the need to support the Asian American community now. By addressing anti-Asian violence with solidarity, these groups strengthened support for racial justice overall.
To answer my friend’s question: yes, we can talk about anti-Asian violence, or anything else facing marginalized groups, while celebrating Black history. We can push past the discomfort and fear that minimizes important conversations around discrimination before they start. We can begin to act with solidarity by asking, “How can I relate?”
