No words can adequately capture the profound grief, anguish, and rage that all of us have been feeling as a result of the violent attacks in Atlanta this past week. I think it fully processed yesterday evening when, overcome with emotion and brought to tears, I thought about the eight victims whose only crime was conducting their livelihoods. The perpetrator, a coward and lunatic, deserves to be tossed in a cell and forgotten. However, he is part of a larger phenomenon of anti-Asian sentiment, xenophobia, and violence against women that became permissible at the outset of the last president. It’s questioned my faith in this country as a grand experiment, a land of coexistence between multiple genders, faiths, and ethnicities.
I served my country out of love for the people behind me — not out of hate, spite, or desire for violence. The last thing I expected when I came home was to fear for the safety of my friends and family, targeted solely because of their identity. To echo Abraham Lincoln, I feel how weak and fruitless any words or actions of mine can have on assuaging the sense of helplessness afflicting my community. The San Francisco Bay Area in particular is experiencing an unprecedented wave of crime and violence. As a spiritual man who has found solace in his proverbial garden, seeing videos of the attacks on defenseless elders has provoked within me an animalistic fury that I haven’t felt in a long time.
Like other societal issues, the cause of the violence and anti-minority sentiment is multi-faceted and arguably stems from the ideals and values our nation was founded upon. Asian-Americans have combated contradicting stereotypes as dirty harbors of disease, conniving bankers or beggars, doctors, engineers, criminals, and submissive sex slaves. We are the model minority, and are compelled to attain higher standards to become accepted at elite universities or obtain leadership positions within government and private industry. Yet, we are subject to incredible violence and micro-aggressions based off submissive, emasculating, and sexual stereotypes fostered by traditional and social media. Now, we are seen as the perpetrators of Covid-19. For all of our contributions to our nation, I still question if we truly belong.
The hyper-sexualization of women is another disturbing topic that I haven’t been able to really process yet, but which I will address in the future. All I can really convey at the moment is the unease for my friends and family who must walk home alone at night, unsure of whether they will be raped or sexually assaulted because of a predatory individual. There is currently a sickness within our society — not Covid-19, but a paternalistic attitude that treats women as commodities and property to be owned, sold, and controlled.
This mix of thoughts and emotions conjured an impactful poem I read when studying the atrocities of World War II.
First they came for the Jews
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the Communists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left
to speak out for me.
To all but my closest friends, I’m a man of few words, but it doesn’t excuse me for not speaking up enough for the minorities and marginalized groups who have experienced violence and discrimination these past few years. While I wrote this to channel my raw and unfiltered thoughts, I also wanted to give an opportunity for other similarly quiet and introverted individuals to speak up and share. The broader question is how our community and nation can heal and overcome these horrific events, to which there are no easy answers.
