The following is the opinion and analysis of the writer:
Editor’s note: This guest opinion column was written before the shootings in Atlanta that killed eight people, including six of Asian descent.
As President Biden recently set July 4 as our “COVID Independence Day,” my community is only beginning to unpack from the xenophobic backlash of the last year.
Hate crimes targeting Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders (AAPI) increased by 150% in 2020, yet our national representatives ignored legislation to pass a COVID-19 Hate Crimes Act in May 2020.
Since then, the rhetoric is more hateful, and the crimes more brazen, with the unprovoked killing of our elders making recent headlines. The videos are graphic, disturbing and violent; you are watching someone’s unceremonious last moment.
On Feb. 16, we added to this disgusting statistic. Phoenix resident Juanito Falcon, 74, was out for a walk when a man punched him in the face, causing him to fall and hit his head. Falcon died two days later.
Where is the outcry? Why don’t these killings tug at our national conscience and spur a campaign of national soul searching?
A handful of corporate allies issued statements condemning the hate. Some opened their pocketbooks and donated to AAPI civic organizations, but the resounding outcry comes from our own community; an echo chamber of grassroots AAPI organizations, journalists, actors, activists and athletes.
After the killing of George Floyd, I spoke to my three sons, who were then 8, 5 and 2 years old, about systemic racism. They learned that Black Lives Matter.
Now the target is squarely on our backs. We need America to acknowledge that Asian Lives Matter.
We are the fastest growing minority population in Arizona, and in the nation. Chinese immigration to Arizona precedes our statehood; the earliest Chinese settlers came to Arizona just after it had become a territory in 1863.
We have been citizens of this country for over a century and a half yet we lack the megaphone to amplify our message. In Arizona, out of the over 200 governor’s boards and commissions that exist, none are dedicated to AAPI civil rights.
AAPI history and notable AAPI figures are barely mentioned in K-12 education, even though May has been federally designated AAPI History Month since the early 1990s. (It started as a weeklong celebration as early as the late 1970s.)
When we are not in earshot of our elected officials, when they go unchecked weaponizing our ethnicity against us using the terms “kung-flu” and “the China virus,” and when our fellow citizens are ignorant of our American story, part of our identity is stripped and it’s easy to cast us as “the other.”
This was very evident when I binged the PBS “Asian Americans” series. During the Cold War period, “Asian Americans are simultaneously heralded as a Model Minority and targeted as the perpetual foreigner.” Talk about back-to-the-future. Are we describing 1945 or 2020?
More than ever, it is important to remind America that our roots in this nation run deep, and our accomplishments to the social, economic and cultural fabric of America are valued, appreciated and celebrated. The AAPI community has a rich and bittersweet history in our great state, contributing to its infrastructure, agriculture and commerce.
On the flip side, almost one third of Japanese Americans who were interned during WWII were relocated to the Gila River and Poston relocation centers, both in Arizona. This is American history, and it’s a narrative that needs to be mandated in K-12 education, not just offered as an elective Asian American studies course on select college campuses.
The racism I have witnessed and experienced in 2020 is highly triggering. Just ask any Asian American who grew up in America — they can recount an impactful racist incident in their life. I was a teenager and sharing a swim lane with an older white woman. Mid swim, she grabbed my arm, pulled me in to her, and hissed “stay on your own side, Chink.” I remember her grip. I remember how her lips curled when she said “Chink” and I remember her flower-embellished swim cap.
I am a mom called to action. These are not the types of memories moms want their children to hold for life. This is not the America I envisioned for my sons.
In another five decades, when today’s events are retired to history, I want my sons to reflect on how the post-pandemic period was a turning point that led to action and change, rather than another regressive time warp.
On the eve of AAPI History Month, let us take this opportunity to honor the rich history of the AAPI community in America, and uphold our pledge to be a nation indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
