In my previous post back in February 2020, I mentioned I was off on a year of great adventures in Malaysia. Here’s how plans are going:
2020 was supposed to be the year of big plans & next steps. For some, it was the year we graduate, get married, or spend a year abroad on a Fulbright. We were off on a trajectory, but the incurring costs of human action and inaction lie in wait. The truth did not care about our plans. No matter where we were, a novel virus forced us all to stand on a cliffhanger. What happens next is uncertain. What is certain though, is the need for urgent change…
That is the story of 2020
The Truth Lies in Wait
We are living through a disruptive time in history. Our companions are a virus (a new friend), and an ongoing broken system that has come to light (an old friend). Still, something about awakening or eye-opener seems unjust. Our eyes should not have been closed. Lives should not have been lost for us to see that something is wrong with the system. These past months, I am reminded of what COVID-19 & racism have in common: People don’t truly believe it exists unless it directly affects them.
Racial justice movements are not new, but the current one in 2020 is different. The global pandemic has claimed the lives of more than 130,000 Americans, and it somehow intensified the Black Lives Matter movement; It’s like our new friend arrived to expose our old friend’s dirty laundry. In Damon Young’s article, Now What, America?, the author reports that if the murder of George Floyd happened before the outbreak, national protests would’ve occurred, but “what’s different now – what has changed each of our lives, forever; why people around the world are in the streets – is COVID-19.”
The mismanagement of the pandemic, the lives lost, and the fragility of healthcare has shocked enough Americans into seeing how our system is broken. What is the root cause? C’mon, let’s not be shy to say it now: White supremacy. This old friend has destroyed people of color for centuries. As we have seen, the uncanny part is that it has the power to destroy white people too. Damon Young points out, “Our failure to respond to the crisis is due to white supremacy… What COVID’s devastation – and the bizarre response to it in some pockets of America – has done is make the tracks and tentacles of white supremacy less concealable and spinnable and more plain… it seems as if white people are seeing, finally, that white supremacy kills them too.”
America’s Race Problem
White supremacy kills white people, but I would be remiss to not emphasize again that it has always been killing people of color. Disproportionately.
The legacy of racism still exists. We tend to think of our eyes as objective; we see what we see. However, research has shown that the bias beneath our awareness is a powerful shaper in how we see the world. You may not think you see racism or “color,” but do not underestimate the power of our unconscious bias.
America has a race problem, especially an anti-Black one. The problem did not go away with the abolishment of slavery or the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s. Learn about mass incarceration or police brutality, and the truth is clear.
I’m not a Black person. I can neither identify with the lifelong struggle nor understand the emotions that it must feel to live as a Black person each day. What I do understand is that in a country where we claim that “All men are created equal,” we are not treated equally. Although we may never truly understand the Black experience, it does not negate our capacity for empathy and to see the injustices. Please continue to learn and unlearn. In the age of information, plenty of resources are available for us to understand systematic racism. Lucky for us too, art and poetry have the ability to condense complexity into powerful simplicity – transcending across differences and bringing us into lived experiences. H.E.R’s song, “I Can’t Breathe,” is a powerful anthem that brings us into the heart of this historical moment:
I may not be able to speak on the experiences of a Black person, but I can speak on my experiences as an Asian person. White supremacy affects Black and Asian people in unequal ways, but it also pits us against each other.
When you divide people, the divider is the one with the power. The saying should really be, united we stand, divided we fall (& give-white-supremacy-the-power-to-control-us). Many beautiful stories of unity exists, such as when Black Americans advocated for Southeast Asian refugees, or when the Black and Vietnamese communities united after Hurricane Katrina to protest against the city’s use of the Versailles neighborhood as a waste dump – just to name a few.
As beautiful as the united we stand stories are, the divided we fall stories stand true. Tou Thao, the Hmong American police officer who stood by as George Floyd was murdered, became the titular example of anti-Blackness in the Asian community. When I see anti-Black sentiments in our community, it is equally as painful to me as seeing the rise of anti-Asian sentiments due to the coronavirus. Both sentiments seem to stem from the same root: The Model Minority Myth. Before I explain the myth, I highly recommend a reading of Viet Thanh Nguyen’s article, The Model Minority Trap. His article explores its nuances more in-depth, where it comes from, and its divisive nature.
Meanwhile, here is my quick summary of the myth:
The Model Minority myth assumes that Asians are the smart, hard-working, and polite citizens who overcome discrimination and achieve socioeconomic wealth. Asian Americans pull themselves up by their bootstraps to live the American Dream. Sounds good, right? Maybe not. Take a deeper look, and you’ll see how dangerously divisive it is to assume that Asians “have it all.” Even if this is true, they do not hold enough representation in politics, business leadership, or Hollywood to really claim that title. Furthermore, America perceives Asians as perpetual foreigners – not truly Americans. I would even argue that Asians get the “Where are you really from?” question the most. As for the Asians who don’t “have it all,” a devastating effect of the myth is that its broad umbrella term easily erases the diversity, languages, and unique histories of ethnic groups who fall under the “Asian American” identity. If you assume that all Asians are crazy rich, you forget that there are real socioeconomic disparities between the ethnic groups. Work with Asian communities on the ground, for instance, and you’ll see that the experience of a Burmese refugee is not necessarily the same as a Taiwanese immigrant. The myth also downplays the history of racism against Asian Americans. These stories are painful, but they’re not widely discussed in America. For example, we seldom hear about the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 (the first anti-immigration law in the US), the Japanese Internment Camp (while other racial groups did not have to prove how American they were in World War II), the number of Asian immigrants who are undocumented (1 out of 7), and the mass lynching of Asians during the 1800s (Look up the Chinese Massacre of 1817).
If the myth assumes that Asian Americans are just as successful as white people, this excludes them from the fight for racial justice. This, my friend, is where the heart of anti-Blackness lies within the Asian community. In the Black-White divide of America, Asians must choose a side. For survival or for whatever other reason, Asians tend to choose the white side. After all, it’s hard to resist. The white side sells the allure of the American Dream and the idea that Asians can overcome discrimination. Like any sleazy sales though, it conceals some hidden costs. By choosing the white side, Asians may or may not receive some status, but they always sign away their rights to become white supremacy’s scapegoat: When Black, Indigenous, and Brown people call out discrimination, the white side cites Asians as the minority who achieves success; When American workers need someone to blame for the loss of jobs, the white side places the blame on Asians overseas; When Americans need someone to blame for the coronavirus, guess who they blame? Viet Thanh Nguyen summarizes the issue best with this statement: “Asian Americans have not forgotten this anti-Asian history, and yet many have hoped it was behind them. The slur of the ‘Chinese Virus’ has revealed how fragile our acceptance and inclusion was.”
Let’s not forget the moral costs. Immigrants and refugees have escaped war, made sacrifices, and fought their way to America for a chance at the American Dream. That’s why I can see how difficult it is for the Asian community, especially the ones who managed to “have it all,” to see the injustices against other minorities and face the uncomfortable truth. However, may this truth be self-evident: The American Dream and the foundation of this country was built for white supremacy, off the shoulders of Black, Brown, Indigenous, and Asian people – off of enslavement, undocumented labor, stolen land, and cheap labor exploitation.
Are the costs of this elusive dream worth it?
I have been fortunate enough to serve immigrants & refugees from both the Asian and Black communities. Unfortunately, I have witnessed plenty of the divided we fall stories. The narrative goes like this: Asians are the docile ones, and Africans are the troublemakers, so we compete against each other for scarce resources. Assumptions such as, “Asians are no better than the whites,” or “Africans keep pulling the race card” are thrown around in everyday conversations. However, we hardly ask who the writers of these narratives are. If you look closely, you’ll see that powerful, mostly white people, instigate these divisions. They are the ones who control the funding, tell us to stay in our own lanes, and when we fight each other, they claim that they are the only “neutral” ones who can come in and break up our fight. It’s a vicious cycle. To break it, Asian and Black communities must unite, to create more united we stand stories.
Don’t get me wrong, I have experienced such stories of unity. However, the common trend is that communities must know that the cycle exists in the first place. It’s not impossible though. I have seen possibility in some unexpected places, such as my own home:
A few weeks ago, I noticed my parents watching the news of the Black Lives Matter movement. They were refugees from Vietnam, and they arrived during a time when the War on Drugs and images of Black Americans as criminals ran rampant on the media. My assumption was that they would not understand what this movement was about. With language barriers and such negative media perceptions, I was concerned that they would only focus on the violence, instead of the movement’s core message. That’s why it surprised me when my dad suddenly remarked, “When they’re out there protesting, I think that in a way, they’re fighting for us too.”
After making the comment, my dad left the room.
Of course, with just my mom there, I jumped in to tell her all about the stories of Asian and Black unity. I told her what I just told you: “Dad is right. Look at how Black Americans advocated for Southeast Asian refugees, or when the Black and Vietnamese communities united after Hurricane Katrina to protest against the city’s use of the Versailles neighborhood as a waste dump – just to name a few.”
She wondered, “Then why are some Vietnamese people so prejudiced against Black people?”
“Well, maybe because when we came to this country, we were only told that they are criminals…”
My dad came back.
I repeated, “Dad, look at how Black Americans advocated for Southeast Asian refugees, or when the Black and Vietnamese communities united after Hurricane Katrina to protest against the city’s use of the Versailles neighborhood as a waste dump – just to name a few.”
He replied, “Oh, I know these stories.”
I know. Those two words right there is how the cycle breaks. Change starts when our communities can say, “I know.”
Why it’s Our Problem
Okay, let’s say you are neither Black nor Asian.
Oh wait, white supremacy kills white people too.
Okay, let’s try this again.
Let’s say you’re American
Let’s say you’re human.
Why should you care?
Technology connects us, but in some ways, we also became dangerously divided, increasingly hardened on where we stand: Left or right, conservative or liberal, socialist or capitalist. Nowadays, it seems like everything we do is a partisan issue. What does it say about us when even race and health are politicized?
In America’s promise, don’t we all have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?
In any religion, aren’t all people sacred?
In human rights, aren’t all people equal in the eyes of the law?
I will invoke H.E.R’s song once again: If we claim people are created equal, then why can’t we see what is evil? All lives matter, yet Black people are seen as criminals, Asians are job stealers and coronavirus infectors, Latinos are illegal, Muslims are terrorists, and healthcare is not a right for all. Sounds like we have a humanity problem, not a partisan one. We don’t get to pick & choose which identities to give humanity to. We don’t get to pick & choose when to be equitable. We also certainly don’t get to pick & choose parts of America without claiming all of its evils. Yes, go for the American Dream if you wish, but let me remind you again that it was built off the backs of people of color. It was slavery, colonization, and exploited labor that built this country for you.
Our morals and faith command us to love all people unconditionally. This ideal alone, the ideal that love is unconditional, is what strives us to transform into a better society. If we go back to normal, that means normalizing what is evil: The death of 130,000 people in the US, the 500,000 deaths worldwide, and the 400 years of oppression against people of color.
We need to start caring for all. A fellow member of my Fulbright cohort and friend, Savi Joshi, wrote a piece on Where Our Connectivity Falls Short and how we can gain it back:
“In our quest for achievement, we instilled a zero-sum mentality and false individualistic narratives instead of embracing collective success.
Why do I feel that if I validate someone else’s narrative, I am invalidating my own? You’re not.
Why do I feel that if I give other people rights, I lose mine? You don’t.
Why do I need to be unique from everyone around me? You don’t.
Why does there always have to be a loser? There doesn’t.
Why do I need to put others down either through force or with words to elevate myself? You don’t.
Why does everything feel like a competition? It isn’t.”
Sounds like we have a problem for all, and it can be solved by all.
When Political Action Becomes Necessary
“I know” is a start. “Our problem” is also start. However, people have lived, understood, and called out these two phrases for centuries, yet progress comes so very slow. That’s when political action becomes necessary.
For most of my life, I’ve been told to stay out of politics. While I did pay attention to issues and voted, I kept political views to myself. Perhaps I had legitimate reasons for doing so: I often work with youth, so I was trained to be mindful of giving them the space to form their political identities. As I mentioned before, I also worked and lived with immigrants & refugees for most of my life. I know that in some of the most vulnerable communities, their speaking up is a luxury. As new Americans, language barriers often make political engagement inaccessible for them, and for those who are undocumented immigrants or have escaped from tyrannical nations, their speaking up might even be a life or death situation. In this sense, to stay out of politics is a means of their survival.
Yet, there comes a time when you yourself, as someone who has the luxury to read, write, and understand what is happening in the country, realize that the very communities you serve are political entities themselves. For people of color, politics is personal, whether they actively engage in it or not. When policies directly affect them, they don’t get to choose to stay out of politics. They live it.
Once you see this dynamic, you also see your own power to change their situations. You can change it with political action. As members of society, we make political statements with not only whom we elect as leaders, but how we choose to spend money and consume media. These political statements affect marginalized communities each day. If you choose to ignore political issues and do not take a stance, that is also a political statement. Quite frankly, it’s one that normalizes the situation we have now and says change is unnecessary. If you have the luxury to read, write, and understand what is happening in the country, then to stay out of politics is your privilege, but remember that it is also your privilege to stay in politics and demand necessary change. It’s we the people, not they the government. We have the power.
A Note on Bad Politics vs. Good Politics:
Due to its philosophical nature, politics can be tricky to discuss. Therefore, clear definitions are critical. For example, you might spot a contradiction: I say that race and health should not be political, but now I’m saying that political action is necessary for change. Well, which is it?
It’s all about intent. There is a difference between the use of politics as a weapon (bad) and the use of politics to call out injustices (good). I think the former is what makes politics unappealing to some citizens, and in my personal experience, it silences the voices of those we need to hear from the most: Marginalized communities. In particular, I will speak on my experiences with youth, immigrants, & refugees. Alright, this is where my mama bear/big sister/little sister side comes out. Hold my bag please:
In my nook of the world, I have seen more bad politics than good. When I was in high school, I remember the activists who tried to recruit students for their causes. Sure, I might have agreed with what they were fighting for, but there was something self-serving and aggressive about their message. They said that they were here to “liberate” me, but did not bother to ask about my lived experiences or respect where I was in my learning experience. How can you liberate me if you don’t know me? Also, what makes you the one who can liberate me? I have seen this story play out so many times with the youth, immigrant, & refugee communities I work with. They are treated like pawns for someone else’s agenda. It’s no wonder why they prefer to stay out of politics. When you center your own political views and do not respect lived experiences, you are not liberating anyone. It actually sounds more like you’re tokenizing marginalized communities, making them less willing to engage in politics, polarizing them even further on issues, and do not truly care about their voices. You may be “woke,” perceive yourself as more politically intelligent, and are justifiably angry, but centering your frustrations on marginalized communities does not bring about any change. They may not have your particular political or social knowledge, but their lived experiences speak volumes. Instead, ask thoughtful questions, don’t preach, be patient, and be kind. Use your frustrations to call out the real power: Corporations and politicians who choose profit and status over the expense of Americans’ well-beings. This is good politics. In memory of the late John Lewis, this is also good trouble. Sometimes change calls for a little trouble.
Good politics is just that – civic engagement. You stay informed. You own your power to make a difference. Perhaps you’re afraid or feel like your voice truly does not matter. Perhaps politics can be heavy and intense. Perhaps you feel that you’re not “smart” enough to voice your concerns. Let me ask you this though: If everyone keeps to themselves, what if your opinion is the one that matters? What if it’s the one that sparks the movement and changes the status quo for someone? As long as you stay informed, listen to others, and hear your own voice, you have the power.
Power is not exclusive to a position behind a podium or a bullhorn. Change requires all different forms of power, and we need to respect them all. Maybe your power is protesting. Maybe it’s art. Maybe it’s storytelling. Maybe it’s having lived experiences. Maybe it’s building a community. They’re all important. Also, who says that you have to keep yourself in a box and choose just one power? Whatever power or powers you choose, you are powerful enough.
On that note, an update on The Inkformant comics – no more staying out of politics. I think I will make him a bit more politically active. Yes, The Inkformant is a personal blog, but as we should know now – politics is personal.
When our Leaders Need to be Held Accountable
Just as there comes a time when you realize that political action is necessary, there also comes a time when you realize that activism is not enough. We also need accountability from our leaders. Our leaders must push for change with us. That’s when we need to exercise our right to vote and demand change. The government is supposed to protect us, but according to Ben Hunt’s A Truth That’s Told with Bad Intent, politicians tend to promote policies that align with institutional advantage rather than for the common good – fighting for their version of the American way of life rather than the way of life for Americans. Sounds like bad politics to me. Even worse, it’s in the hands of powerful people.
Without a doubt, self-serving leadership hinders progress, but let’s take away the bad intent and political corruption for a second. Let’s appeal to the better angels of ourselves, assume that politicians only want what’s good for America, are truly aware of the problems, and want change as much as we do. In this case, they often then ask, “Well, what do you want me to do about it?” All too often, the answer to this question dismisses the “why” of the problem and goes straight into their desire for instant results. This is where they put on their data-driven and rational thinking hats to solve our problems. In my opinion, this type of thinking also prevents progress. Instead of really addressing the root, their desire for instant results propels them to propose band-aids to the problem, such as reforms and so-called creative solutions. To make matters worse, they hire analysts to come in and do data reports that seemingly show progress on what they’ve created. Are we really making progress when we do not address the root? When you do not ask why, the only instant results are a messy, unnecessarily complicated system of reforms and so-called creative solutions that you’ve created – ones that don’t really solve the core issue in the first place. I believe this type of thinking is also one of the reasons why 400 years of white supremacy has become a tangled mess, why the severity of the problem is so hard for even smart people to grasp, and why progress is so slow. We spend more time trying to repair and dismantle the problem rather than to really address it at its root. Sometimes, I wonder where we would be if we had focused more on prevention instead of repairing. The more I look at how our politicians are handling issues, the more I see that we have a Great Turkey Problem (coined by Nassim Nicholas Taleb, in Antifragile):
Story time: A butcher feeds a flock of turkeys. With each passing day, an analyst turkey compiles a data report, showing strong statistical evidence that butchers love turkeys. The turkeys believe the report. After all, how can data, evidence, and an expert like the analyst turkey be wrong? Days before Thanksgiving, the butcher stops feeding the turkeys. However, instead of truly questioning why this is so, the turkeys are already at maximal confidence that the butcher loves turkeys. Even when a radical whistleblower turkey tries to warn them of the dangers, it’s hard to persuade such confident turkeys who have all the data at this point. So, what can go wrong? Well, you know the rest of the story.
This is mistaking absence of harm for evidence. In other words, just because you are unaware of the root of the problem, it does not mean that it is not there – lying in wait. Just because COVID-19 & racism do not directly affect you, it does not mean that it does not exist. To solve our problems, I believe that we need radical, systematic policy changes that truly does start from the root. In terms of how our leaders ought to be, I’m going to quote Savi’s article once again:
“We shouldn’t force them to consistently produce aimless “RESULTS!” but rather push them to build the solutions to our world’s deepest problems. We shouldn’t hold them accountable for overnight success but rather hold them accountable for systematic progress — a fundamental shift in the way we think, act, communicate instead of a band-aid that peels off at the end of a term.”
Luckily, there are leaders who do question why and call for systematic policy changes. WE the people can vote them in and hold them accountable. Given the number of deaths, the decline of the economy, and the dictatorial authority of the current administration, it is imperative that change comes soon. If anything, 2020 has shown us that we are no different than the turkeys. The butcher has stopped feeding us, and maybe we should really start listening to that radical whistleblower turkey. Yes, perhaps we should’ve listen to that turkey all along, but at least we know now and have the chance to escape our fate.
Which reminds me. Isn’t Thanksgiving coming up?
We still have time before Thanksgiving Day. Elections are on November 3rd, 2020.
Go vote.
Let’s be the turkeys who survive.
America’s Cliffhanger
To be a turkey or not a turkey? As an Asian person, to be a scapegoat or not a scapegoat? Can the injustices of Black Americans finally be remedied? There’s so much uncertainty. I want to believe that there is hope, but I honestly don’t know. As mentioned above, the number of deaths, the decline of the economy, and the dictatorial authority has casted an ominous shadow over 2020. With ICE targeting visa holders, schools being forced to reopen as the coronavirus numbers skyrocket, and federal troops coming into Portland to arrest protestors, I can’t help but feel grim about America’s trajectory.
What does give me hope is that we have an ideal worth fighting for, and this ideal is at stake. Recently, I was reminded of what it is again – when I attended a webinar with former Fulbrighters who identified as people of color. While I am eternally grateful to receive a Fulbright experience, I learned about the program’s history through the webinar, and have to reconcile with the truth: When the Fulbright program was founded, it was not meant for people like me – just like this country. The foundation of America was not meant for people of color. The promises of equality for all was not intended for us. Yet, overtime, people of color have breathed life into these promises, and they demanded that these promises also include them. That’s justice. That’s an ideal worth fighting for. That’s how America should be. What gives me hope are the Black-Americans, Asian-Americans, fellow people of color, white people, folks who empower themselves with good politics, and leaders who advocate for systematic change. Progress is the Black Lives Matter movement, the Supreme Court’s decision to protect DACA recipients, and the ruling that protects LGBTQ employees from discrimination. However, the journey is far from over. More needs to be done.
We’re standing on a cliff with uncertainty, but each of us has a choice to change what is normal. All of us need to say “I know,” “our problem,” take action, and demand accountability – for each other.
As I stand on the cliff myself, I recall my last moments in Malaysia back in March. Fulbright’s call for the evacuation of all participants was so sudden. My mom even joked, “Did they have a plane ready for you in front of your house?” The dangers of the virus were scary and immediate at the time. I had no time to process, no souvenirs to bring back, no Malaysian sweets to share with people at home, and no mask. At the airport, when I was in the middle of typing up the good-bye letter to the school in Melaka, a Chinese citizen suddenly came up to me and asked something in Mandarin.
I responded, “Oh, I’m sorry sir, I don’t understand.”
He said, “Oh. Um, do you have a mask, Miss?”
“No, I don’t have one, unfortunately.”
The young man pulled out a mask from his backpack and kindly gave it to me. No conditions needed, nothing more. Just a simple act of humanity – a gesture saying that we are all in this together, and the only way forward is together.
Months later, I feel that I am at Malaysia’s airport once again, heading back to America and leaving my big plans & next steps behind me. I have no idea what’s awaiting me or what will happen next, but perhaps I know what my big plans & next steps are.
I know how I want the story of 2020 to end.
