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by Megan Peng, Torrey Pines High School '22
Last Friday, I had a major essay due. I barely found the motivation to write the first half page the day before and ended up turning in my essay just two minutes before it was due. Although I do procrastinate occasionally, this occasion was by far the worst. I spent hours on Friday, staring at a nearly blank Google Doc, unable to concentrate. Every time I opened up Rawls’ A Theory of Justice, my mind would inevitably be drawn back to last Tuesday’s mass murder, which targeted Asian women like me.
I was in a paralyzing sort of shock for several days after the shooting, unable to completely comprehend what had happened. Even in this state, though, I felt extra wary about walking my dog alone in my safe neighborhood. I avoided houses where I knew residents owned guns. I often ended up running home after only walking for ten minutes, knowing nothing would really happen to me, but still not completely convinced. On Saturday, I watched ur mom ashley’s YouTube video in which she tearfully talked about her experiences growing up as an Asian-American woman. I finally broke down in tears when Ashley described her experiences with the same microaggressions and discriminatory acts I’ve endured. Realizing that my insecurities and traumas were shared with likely thousands of other Asian-American girls was extremely bittersweet — knowing that I am not alone was comforting, but knowing that others go through the same difficult journey I’ve gone through was deeply saddening. But, mostly, I am very, very tired.
I’m too exhausted to re-criticize the way the media and general public handled the Georgia murders, but the obvious reluctance to label these murders as a racially motivated hate crime only shows that people simply don’t care. They choose to be blind to our oppression. I am tired of (non-Asian) people telling me they have “Yellow fever” with an expectant pause, almost as if they’re expecting me to thank them. I am not your fantasy. And as we can see in Georgia, your racist fantasies KILL us.
I am tired of watching white celebrities pulling back their eyes or posting fox-eye tutorials, when I’ve been mocked for my slanted, monolid eyes. I am tired of seeing my peers commodifying our culture in the food they eat and the clothes they wear. I am tired of seeing these same people then turn around and make sly comments about how smart I must be or about our parents’ accents. Or, even worse, they are completely silent while the AAPI community is being fetishized, brutalized, and murdered. I’m tired of having to explain that, yes, I am a woman of color. I’m tired of having to justify my own experiences with discrimination. I’m tired of having to legitimize myself to people who simply don’t care.
I’m tired of worrying if my grandparents will be the next victims on the news, knowing that this Tuesday, my grandparents’ Korean neighbor received a threatening note applauding her husband’s recent death simply because it meant less Asians to deal with. I don’t want to have to order pepper spray in order to feel a slight sense of safety, and we shouldn’t be giving girls tasers on the Christmas before they go to college as a family tradition.
It’s extremely sad that most, if not all, Asian-Americans I know went through (or are still going through) a phase where they rejected their “Asian-ness” in an attempt to assimilate and fit in with the white “norm.”
I hope that those of you who’ve made it this far will take the extra step to educate yourself about Asian-American history beyond the aesthetic Instagram infographic. Please check in with your AAPI friends, donate to an organization like Stop AAPI Hate, or support your local Asian-run businesses. Call out your friends the next time they make a racist or sexist joke. Your words go beyond playful banter.