I have experienced racism and anti-Asian hate since I was a child, and it’s only getting worse as I grow up
Hate crimes and racism against Asian-Americans have skyrocketed during the pandemic, but discrimination began years before.
If you were to ask those around you right now, “do you wish what happened in 2020 never happened?,” many would likely respond “yes.” Since March of 2020 we have seen remarkable history made right before our eyes. Being a history and government policy nerd, I was here for the drama. My senior year of college turned into virtual everything, and with the start of the most dramatic presidential election, it was a year to remember. Pandemic restrictions, cancelled plans, and cautious behavior continued to make up the majority of the year — and chaos did not stop there.
America continued breaking records for all the wrong reasons, and as we transitioned into 2021, America broke another one: nearly 2 million Asian-Americans have experienced a hate crime, discrimination, or harassment since the wake of the coronavirus pandemic.
Growing up as an adoptee from South Korea to a blended Catholic-Canadian-Italian-Polish family in a conservative town, I saw racism, discrimination, and microaggressions beginning the day I stepped foot in my private elementary school. I looked around and only saw white faces, and I didn’t understand why I was the only one who packed rice with kimchi in my lunchbox. While I was surrounded by kids my age, people I was supposed to be making my first friendships with, I instead sat in silence as they ate their peanut butter and jellies.
Fast forward years later I ended up transferring to a public middle school and found a more diverse group of neighborhood kids. I hung around the same crowd for a while, but as we grew up and they cared more about social status and popularity, the anti-Asian jokes against me started. “Hey, Lily, look, my eyes are like yours now” boys would say to me as they pulled their eyes back to make them more “squinty.” “Hey, mustache girl, why do you have more hair on your face than I do?” they’d say to me — little did they know I naturally have a darker complexion due to my ethnicity. Little did they know that they were bullying me so much that I would cry everyday, alone in my bedroom with nothing to comfort me as no one understood. Little did they know that their names, faces, and exact scenes would play in my mind 15+ years later. For years I was haunted by their words; I was too young to understand that white kids weren’t taught acceptance and diversity as I was.
When I moved states from Michigan to Missouri in 7th grade, the racism I experienced looked different. And of course in high school some things changed and others did not. Being immersed in a Southern state I saw more Republicans and conservatives than I could have ever imagined. Many people were all about their guns, trucks, and about protecting what they called theirs. I saw no desire for people to take a moment to listen to their neighbor unless they were a mirrored image of themselves. Ruthless middle school bullies slowly relinquished, but the chance of popularity became everyone’s goal. While to some it did not necessarily matter that I was not white, I just was not the “cool” girl, as most “cool” kids were white and rich.
Now, why does that matter? Why does what I experience as an Asian-American woman matter years before the coronavirus pandemic started? It matters because Asian-Americans have been forgotten about, teased, and ridiculed for too long. You only learned about the rising hate crimes in the last three months, but it’s been part of my story since I was three months old. You only heard about the hate crimes and attacks after they went public, while I was being scolded and verbally attacked in private at the start of the mask-mandate. You don’t get asked “where are you REALLY from?” after the initial “where are you from” question, while I always have follow up questions to answer.
In 2020, Asian-Americans and other Asian American Pacific Islanders (AAPI) were targeted and blamed for the start and spread of coronavirus. While there are no linkages or direct correlation between Asians specifically heightening the pandemic, it only fueled the fire when President Trump consistently referred to it as the “Chinese virus.” Not only is it problematic to shift possession on where this global virus started, but it also insinuates the appropriation of microaggressions American people have towards minorities. Trump’s preposterous and offensive language, aided by his band of racist supporters, kick-started the Asian-American hate we’ve seen ramped up throughout the pandemic.
In recent conversations when we discuss hate crimes against minorities or the AAPI community, we think of the tragedy outside of Atlanta, Georgia. Eight women were killed in a brutal attack that rallied Asians together to create the hashtag, #StopAsianHate. A white man named Robert Long went to three separate massage parlors and spas outside of Atlanta and murdered eight women, six of them being of Asian-American descent. He claimed his attacks were not targeted towards Asian women, but then went on to say how he was frustrated that Asian women are fetishized in the pornography industry and that they instill sexually explicit behavior. He felt and deemed himself responsible for taking action against industries and businesses that play into his sexual addictions when he visited two of the three salons/spas.
After much research, thought, and desire to share my narrative, I turned to social media like many others, and wrote how this attack personally affected me 700 miles away. In my post I wrote about how there was talk and skepticism regarding the hate crime and racially based motivation behind the murders. I addressed the underlying and foundational issue of Long’s decision to attack the spas, as they were a place where he saw sexual temptation. He decided and felt that it was Asian American women’s fault for his issue. As women, it was our fault that his temptations could not be stopped, and he made it his mission to change that by murdering us.
After I wrote online about how the Atlanta attack affected me, I looked around on social media and saw that at most, people were only reposting supportive graphics to their Instagram story, or sharing a timeline post on Facebook. Not to disparage the effects of that alone, but there is simply much more work to do and I see a lack of advocacy beyond these posts, many which come across as performative.
My friend Lexi, who is not an Asian-American, had been following my social media posts about the rise of anti-Asian violence, and been reposting them on her accounts. At first I was upset that she might have just been another person posting but not taking action. However, I later learned that she sat down with her dad to talk about what was going on. He didn’t realize that there were so many anti-Asian hate crimes and he was surprised to just be learning about them. I was excited to hear that she was taking the next step as an advocate for my minority group. Lexi went beyond social media, and taught others about the racism she was learning about. If Lexi and a couple more of my friends and family members can continue to have conversations offline, a domino effect of necessary discussion and change will occur.
The rise in anti-Asian hate crimes continues to scare me and the Asian community. It creates anxiety and enables protective instincts within me to ensure those who share the same pain and experience as I do feel safe in America. While I was raised American, I see so many others coming here for opportunities but instead they are punished for their race. The Center for the Study of Hate and Extremism released data displaying that Asian-American crime rose over 145% from 2019 to 2020 and leading into March of 2021. In San Francisco and New York, eldery Asian people have been attacked and abused on the streets. Websites, news stations, and research facilities are releasing data and creating sections dedicated to the heightened discrimination and racism Asian-Americans face.
My personal journey and story as an Asian-American woman in America has sharply shifted in the recent years. Since the racism I experienced in my upbringing, society has created new fears and burdens for me I never thought were possible. While kids are still bullied for the color of their skin or for being different, we are also seeing society take part in more physical abuse and collective xenophobia/racism because of the pandemic. With a former president and politicians who blatantly participate in and encourage discrimination, how can we expect a whole country to move forward?
My testimony is only one example of how living through the time of COVID-19 has affected me. Not only due to the hardships that were thrown my way in 2020, but the “post-pandemic” stages we are in now are hindering the next steps I am planning on taking. With the break in between undergraduate studies and law school being pushed from one year off to two, and with my caution towards keeping myself safe, I find myself more sensitive and scared. My mental health and my experiences with identity and culture are shifting because of today’s current affairs. My minority identity and community have been attacked, leading me here to write this. I am writing this to share who I am, what I feel, and how others have displayed horrific signs of racism against my community and me. If you have questions or are uneducated, the best thing you can do is to reach out and ask questions. Whether that is a conversation with someone who is in a different socioeconomic group than you, a different race, lives in a different geographic area, or someone who is simply different from you, your role in being an ally and advocate is a small step in beginning to make change. Websites such as “Stop AAPI Hate” are helpful in creating conversations and providing information about being actively anti-racist. Overall, the pandemic has not been an easy 15+ months for any of us, but listening and learning from each other is one of the best ways we will move forward together and prevent continued discrimination. For my fellow Asian-Americans, I see you and I hear you. I wish, hope, pray, and manifest that you all are able to find friends who support you as we bind together to stand against racism.
