Atlanta-area shootings and a history of hate
On Tuesday, a man shot and killed eight people - six of whom were Asian women. Their names are: Soon C. Park, Hyun Jung Grant, Suncha Kim, Yong A. Yue, Delaina Ashley Yaun, Paul Andre Michels, Xiaojie Tan, and Daoyou Feng.
Police are saying that the motive is still unclear, and the shooter is claiming that it was not racially motivated. I'm calling it like I see it - it was a hate crime. Whether it was a hate crime against women, Asians or a mix of both - it was a hate crime. Regardless of motive, the shooter killed innocent people because of the way they look.
I am angry, hurt, confused, sad, afraid and exhausted. Based on the rhetoric from this past year alone, I knew it was only a matter of time before someone got violent. Asian people, and in particular Chinese people, have been scapegoated in the United States for years, and particularly in times of economic uncertainty. Anti-Chinese sentiment has existed since the mid-19th century, reaching a peak following the construction of the transcontinental railroad, a project that heavily used Chinese labor to the benefit of the United States. In 1882, the United States enacted the Chinese Exclusion Act, banning Chinese immigration and naturalization.
This anti-Chinese sentiment was so strong that even the Supreme Court couldn't help but let everyone know that they didn't like Chinese people, even referencing it in Plessy v. Ferguson, a landmark decision about racial segregation. Justice John Marshall Harlan wrote in his dissent:
Police are saying that the motive is still unclear, and the shooter is claiming that it was not racially motivated. I'm calling it like I see it - it was a hate crime. Whether it was a hate crime against women, Asians or a mix of both - it was a hate crime. Regardless of motive, the shooter killed innocent people because of the way they look.
I am angry, hurt, confused, sad, afraid and exhausted. Based on the rhetoric from this past year alone, I knew it was only a matter of time before someone got violent. Asian people, and in particular Chinese people, have been scapegoated in the United States for years, and particularly in times of economic uncertainty. Anti-Chinese sentiment has existed since the mid-19th century, reaching a peak following the construction of the transcontinental railroad, a project that heavily used Chinese labor to the benefit of the United States. In 1882, the United States enacted the Chinese Exclusion Act, banning Chinese immigration and naturalization.
This anti-Chinese sentiment was so strong that even the Supreme Court couldn't help but let everyone know that they didn't like Chinese people, even referencing it in Plessy v. Ferguson, a landmark decision about racial segregation. Justice John Marshall Harlan wrote in his dissent:
The arbitrary separation of citizens on the basis of race while they are on a public highway is a badge of servitude wholly inconsistent with the civil freedom and the equality before the law established by the Constitution. It cannot be justified upon any legal grounds.
Oh yeah, but then he added:
There is a race so different from our own that we do not permit those belonging to it to become citizens of the United States. Persons belonging to it are, with few exceptions, absolutely excluded from our country. I allude to the Chinese race.
I read that decision in law school. When we got to that part of the decision, people laughed. To be fair, it is kind of funny, considering the absurdity of it. The absurdity may be funny, but what actually happened is not funny. When I read those words, my face started to burn hot with embarrassment because other students were looking at me for my reaction. But we should all have the same reaction to something like that - not just the minorities in the room.
There are certain memories that have impacted me that I'll never forget. Reading Plessy v. Ferguson is one. Reading Martin Luther King Jr.'s Letter from Birmingham Jail is another. I saw myself in Dr. King's words, when he wrote:
When you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six year old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five year old son who is asking: “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”
Those ominous clouds of inferiority formed in my mind from the first day that I got on the bus to go to kindergarten. My first day of school. I went home that day, crying, because two boys would not stop making fun of my slanted eyes. This is a memory of my life that I will certainly never forget, and it hurts now just as much as it hurt 5-year-old me. There was the day on the bus when I was in 5th grade, when the bus driver made fun of one of my peers for his eyes, for liking Wonton soup, for having the last name Wong. I stood up and told the bus driver to "shut the fuck up." I was called to the principal's office, and my dad told them that I did the right thing. The bus driver was fired, thankfully.
But there are other memories that I hold in my heart, too, like the boy who told his friend that maybe it was time to stop making fun of me, that couldn't he see I was crying? There was the unnamed man in Tiananmen Square who decided enough was enough and would not let the tanks go any further, only to be taken away and never heard from again. There are quieter heroes, like Chiune Sugihara, a Japanese diplomat serving in Lithuania, who defied official orders and issued several thousand visas for Jewish refugees to travel to Japan in 1940. Mr. Sugihara hand-wrote visas for 18 to 20 hours a day, producing a normal month's worth of visas each day, until he had to leave his post before the consulate was closed. As his train was departing, Mr. Sugihara flung blank visas with his signature and seal from the train, and stated, "Please forgive me. I cannot write anymore. I wish you the best."
We can be like these heroes, too. Silence is violence. Speak up when you see an injustice. And in turn, we should take the hand extended to us by the allies around us because we are stronger together. There is strength in numbers, and thankfully, we are reaching a turning point where more and more people are aligning themselves with what is right. I am devastated by what happened in Atlanta, among the countless other horrific acts of hate, but I remain hopeful that there are enough good people in this world to right this ship.
But there are other memories that I hold in my heart, too, like the boy who told his friend that maybe it was time to stop making fun of me, that couldn't he see I was crying? There was the unnamed man in Tiananmen Square who decided enough was enough and would not let the tanks go any further, only to be taken away and never heard from again. There are quieter heroes, like Chiune Sugihara, a Japanese diplomat serving in Lithuania, who defied official orders and issued several thousand visas for Jewish refugees to travel to Japan in 1940. Mr. Sugihara hand-wrote visas for 18 to 20 hours a day, producing a normal month's worth of visas each day, until he had to leave his post before the consulate was closed. As his train was departing, Mr. Sugihara flung blank visas with his signature and seal from the train, and stated, "Please forgive me. I cannot write anymore. I wish you the best."
We can be like these heroes, too. Silence is violence. Speak up when you see an injustice. And in turn, we should take the hand extended to us by the allies around us because we are stronger together. There is strength in numbers, and thankfully, we are reaching a turning point where more and more people are aligning themselves with what is right. I am devastated by what happened in Atlanta, among the countless other horrific acts of hate, but I remain hopeful that there are enough good people in this world to right this ship.
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