It’s been nearly two months since the Atlanta spa shootings. I have felt distraught, rage, and hopelessness. I’ve also felt galvanized to speak up and to get my story out there so that more AAPI voices are heard. My experiences are not entirely unique, as I recently discovered while reading Phuc Tran’s Sigh, Gone. He and I both know violence by the hands of our parents. We both know what it feels like to struggle with fitting in.
For so many years, I buried aspects of myself that I felt were too Asian. I did what a lot of Asians do: I flew under the radar to avoid trouble. I studied hard, got good grades, earned not just an undergraduate degree but also a law degree. I did as much as I could to rise up from the poverty and disadvantages that my family’s refugee status demonstrated to the world. I wanted more out of life.
Now, as I live comfortably in this high-rise apartment in South Korea, I’m not hiding as Asian anymore. I’m part of the majority here. It’s liberating. I don’t have to pretend I’m not Asian. People don’t call me an angry Asian woman. If I’m angry, I’m just an angry woman. When I’m out walking, I don’t have to worry about men leering at me and saying, “How much?” Thank God that hasn’t happened in years, but the point is, I’m free from the microaggressions that I got used to living with in the U.S.
But my life of comfort isn’t free from stress and worries because my family and friends still living Stateside are potential targets. My mom is retired and getting frail as she gets older. How will she handle someone shouting, “Go back to China, bitch!” My siblings and I aren’t there to protect her. It distresses me to know that at any moment, whether she’s at church, the grocery store, or at a red light in her car, my mother could be the next victim of a violent attack merely for being Asian. So me getting that college education and law degree, living in this comfy apartment overlooking my small city doesn’t keep me from continuing to feel anxious about being Asian in America.
My older sister often asks me, “There’s nothing we can do about it. Why bother?” She doesn’t believe we can change things. I disagree. I think we can change a lot. But if we sit in silence, that change won’t happen.
I am horrified that a man having a “really bad day” went out to kill women because he needed to eliminate what represented his sex addiction. His actions and the subsequent reports revealed how layered the issues are, and confirmed for me that even if what I have to say is a mere drop in the bucket of discourse, at least that drop can cause a tiny ripple among many ripples. We cannot combat hate crimes in silence. We must speak up.
I’m determined, now more than ever, to share stories of my experiences.
