I’ve only just signed up for a Medium account. I’ve never really felt inclined to share my personal thoughts in written form. Ironic, especially since I’ve worked as a writer/editor for most of my career. But today, I feel the need to put how I feel in writing because it’s been echoed in almost all of my conversations with my Asian friends. Today, I feel like my words are especially important.
We are all sad. We are all scared. We are all disappointed. Moving to New York in my late 20’s from Hong Kong, I was inspired by the energy and diversity of the city. I took solace in crowded subway cars as I rode the train home late at night alone. I told myself New Yorkers would always stand up for injustice, banding together in their outspoken way to stand up to any observed wrongdoings. I don’t know if this sense of security has always been false, but I do know that I don’t feel this way now. All of the incidences I’ve seen of people, quite literally, closing the door in the face of blatant anti-Asian violence and racism, has left so many of us feeling vulnerable and alone.
These attacks have happened in broad daylight to innocent, unsuspecting people. To think of these things happening to my mother, my sisters, my child, myself … these are visions that leave raw wounds pierced with anxiety and fear, wounds that COVID has already lacerated through months of isolation. Just when we are on the brink of freedom and “normalcy” with the vaccine rollout, the Asian population has to take a pause. Many of us have questioned … or hoped (?) … that there’s no actual increase in the number of crimes, that perhaps the apparent rise in Anti-Asian hate crimes is actually just the mainstream media finally placing the spotlight on racism against the Asian community in America. But when it comes down to it, why does the difference matter? The fact is, there is an undeniable wave of Anti-Asian sentiment taking place in the country. Perhaps this is Trump’s legacy of violence, racism and hate perpetuating in a post-Covid landscape, or a larger question of how mental health needs are largely ignored in this country … but what is very true and very real is that for the first time in my life, I have had to buy pepper spray. The conversation of what type of self defense, “Did you get pepper spray or pepper gel?”, “Should I get a tazer?”, “How will a little knife actually help me if someone jumps me out of nowhere?” is one that I have had with almost all of my Asian friends this past week.
I’ve been waiting with slight anticipation to see if any of my non-Asian friends will reach out given the spate of attacks in New York. Just a “how are you feeling” or “are you ok” … but there has been little activity, especially when compared to the outreach I experienced after the Atlanta shootings. The meme that went around encouraging people to reach out to their Asian friends worked. Does another one need to go out regularly to remind people to check in?
In the past week, I’ve taken so much comfort in the presence of the fellow Asian women in my friend circle. These conversations have served as a poignant and meaningful reminder that I’m not alone in all of this. I’ve joked that most of the friends I made since I moved to the city are Asian. And more and more recently, I realize how much this is true because these are the women who I feel the most comfortable around — by virtue of shared experience and upbringings — and who simultaneously inspire me. My network of strong, creative and successful Asian women is one that I have been so grateful for this week. More so than ever, I would like to encourage everyone, Asian or not, to reach out to your friends (especially your Asian ones), to remind them that they are not alone. And the next time you are out, if you ever see anyone being targeted, speak up and speak out.
