While every nation holds a political gradient of diverse and opposing ideas, I had conceived Paris as a place that celebrated notions of revolution and progress. During my time spent abroad in Paris, France, I also expected the more romanticized version I found in its films of the 50s and 60s. However, my first reaction was a slight disillusionment, particularly at the sight of globalization that has taken place in the city. Witnessing the separation of the city from its outlying suburbs, I saw the resultant segregation of immigrants from the white-dominant bourgeoisie that I quickly realized were the only people depicted in the films I’ve been romanticizing.

One day, a group of friends and I, returning from class in the 19th arrondissement, were craving Chinese food. Spoiled by its abundance in New York City, we found it quite difficult to locate one. Once we did, I noticed that the restaurant specifically served dumplings, jiaozi. However, these dumplings were referred to in French as “ravioli chinois, “Chinese ravioli”.

Since such a description would not at all fly in New York, I was curious as to why it became referred to that. The French have no word for dumplings, the closest being “boulette” which refers to a meatball. So then, of all the possible names to attribute jiaozi (perhaps use the English word since such a word does not exist for the French, or to perhaps just use the authentic Chinese name) why would one ‘Frenchify’ the name of the dish? 

Of course, the restaurant owners made a choice to refer to it in such a name to cater to the Parisian population, but why is such a choice even required in the first place? While not necessarily racist or discriminatory, the renaming of the dish to please French palettes is a sign of their sense of “cultural superiority.” As a result, the disdain towards Asians in Paris is more subtle than with other minority groups. 

The ‘Frenchification’ of culture as well as the presence of these banlieues, ethnic suburban outskirts, have made me question if they are correlated, and if so, how, and where did these attitudes stem from? 

Why is the depiction of, attitude, and treatment of Asians in Paris the way it is? By specifically looking at the foundational political beliefs of France, in its Republicanism, colonialism, as well as Asian diasporas in France, we can see how these ingrained ideas manifest towards Asians in a contemporary context.

The first question I asked  in determining intercultural relations in France is: “why does France feel so culturally superior?”

Most of the world, at least America, has viewed France as an index of taste and refinement, as seen in the abundance of influential films, art movements, and cooking styles. But their political ideas of freedom and democracy stemmed from the French Age of Enlightenment, and have influenced almost the entirety of Western Europe, as well as the United States. The sense of superiority would then reflect a conservative need to preserve French attitudes as more and more cultures begin to emerge in Paris. 

Claiming to be the founder of democracy, France possesses this eminence, or distinction, that portrays itself as the cultural capital of the world, where artistic ideas and notions of progress are shared. In fact, the fundamental beliefs of the Enlightenment have influenced and inspired the American Revolution, proving that these ideas could actually work as a revolutionary mode. Subsequently, the French Revolution emerges, and from that the motto “Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite.”  

What does “egalite” actually mean?

In the midst of globalization, the question of French equality (egalite) becomes an increasingly heated debate between the left and the right, with many conservative French saying that all French are equal in the fact that they are nationally French, and therefore should behave in the mode of French beliefs. While one can be ethnically diverse, they are French first and foremost above all.

On a side note, another essential element of French Republicanism is “laïcité” or secularism, which emphasizes the setting aside of religion when in public. In the eyes of most French conservatives and liberals, this allows for equality. A result of such notions is the controversial veil laws, since the donning of the head-cover reflects a priority to Allah, not the Republic. 

For such reasons, in hopes to avoid ethnic and religious identifiers emphasizing divisions inside France, the government forbids public institutions from gathering data on personal details. This prohibition complicates discussions on the ethnic and religious character of French society. 

Hence, the ravioli chinois - the name serves as an attempt, not just to cater to the French palette, but to reflect French ideals on identity, wherein one is French before they are Chinese. The means of achieving equality is quite different from America’s, which emphasizes a celebration of differences rather than setting them aside for a common identity. To be French first and foremost is a form of nationalism, wherein one is in solidarity with the rest of the state through the bond of their nationality. 

While admirable, and a seemingly positive force for bringing people together, nationalism only works to unify their country if all voices are represented. However, since there is technically only one voice, the voice of the “French,” it becomes quite difficult to allow for representation in legislation. Additionally, such a need for representation in the first place signifies that not everyone is truly “equal.” So why does Republicanism not work, if everyone is expected to equally set aside their identities for a common one? 

French Colonialism 

The same French Enlightened came up with their ideas during the height of French power, wherein France colonized many parts of Africa and Southeast Asia.

Its Asian portion, known as “French Indochina,” comprised of modern-day Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam. French presence was strong there, and so was its degradation of what it deemed “primitive” and “dirty.” In fact, the southern section of Vietnam was referred to as “Cochinchine,” which essentially means “dirty China” in French. 

France’s technological superiority over Indochina allowed them to assume that they were also culturally superior to the countries that they chose to colonize. This superiority complex, coupled with a need to acquire rare resources (rice, coal, rare minerals, rubber) for the motherland, warranted the invasion and exploitation of these countries. Because they were “primitives” who also happened not to be fellow Frenchman, the Republic’s values did not apply to them, and freedoms, equalities, and fellowship were all stolen. 

After the Second World War, however, there was a power struggle, wherein Vietnam expected to see France remove itself from Indochina, but France believed differently. Such conflicts eventually caused the development of the First Indochina War and the Vietnam War. However, once Vietnam acquired its independence from France, America entered the conflict, leading to a massive International displacement crisis. 

Diaspora and The Asians of the 93rd

The fall of Saigon in 1975 gave rise to an immense Asian diaspora on an international scale, with hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese, Laotian, Cambodian, and Chinese refugees entering France immediately after the war. Now having to live in France, the Asian population had to integrate, leaving aside their cultural values in favor of “laïcité” to become a fellow French. However, the superiority complex of a traditionalist, white French policymakers still remained in Paris at the time and had deemed the Asian population ‘not French enough’ for integration. Hence, the allocation of Asians into the banlieue, essentially the outskirts of Paris. Here, Algerians experienced a similar displacement after their war with France, and their tensions are a whole other story

A large population of Asians live in Ville d'Aubervilliers, a commune in Seine-Saint-Denis, a neighboring section of Paris known by its district number: 93. In this French Department, the 93rd houses many impoverished ethnic minorities, and has been deemed too dangerous for city-center Parisians to enter. Vilified in the media for its crime, trafficking, and drug usage, the 93rd’s dangerous climate is inevitably associated with the minorities who live there. While Aubervilliers is not as turbulent as its neighboring communes, and Asians not at the forefront of being deemed a “dangerous minority,” its Asian population continues to face unwarranted cruelty. 

Treatment of Asians in Paris

In the 93rd alone, dozens of attacks were reported to be specifically against Chinese people between the months of August to October 2016, reported in the communes of Aubervilliers, Saint-Denis, Bobigny, La Courneuve, the Bourget, and Noisy-le-Sec. 

Tensions reached an unprecedented height in August when father-of-two, 49-year-old tailor Zhang Chaolin died after being assaulted by three teenagers in a street in Aubervilliers, apparently kicked in the sternum and immediately hitting the pavement. When the teenagers were interrogated by the French police, they claimed that they viewed the Chinese as “easy targets,” and therefore attempted to steal Zhang Chaolin’s bag. The second wave of anti-Asian acts of violence emerged during the advent of the pandemic, where many perceived a negative correlation between Chinese and COVID-19. Since then, many Asian Parisians have been outspoken in their fight against anti-Asian rhetoric, so deeply entrenched in the cultural dynamics that stem from French colonialism. 

To be equal in the eyes of the Republic would mean solidarity under the French flag for all races and religions, but to achieve such a thing would require heightened awareness of why such equality does not exist in the first place. Once such occurs, the Republic continues to struggle with the constitution and definition of “egalite” in an increasingly globalized world. It would be an extremely challenging task that I have no answer to. All I can say is that it won’t be so easy to romanticize Paris as I used to, that’s for sure.

For a more in-depth examination of Parisian minorities, read the articles below:

• Branded a no-go zone: a trip inside the 93, France's most notorious banlieue

• FRANCE IN THE FACE OF COMMUNITARIANISM / LA FRANCE FACE AUX COMMUNAUTARISMES

• Traveling Noir: Seeking a Better Life in Paris's 'Little Africa'

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I never thought that the aftermath of the Atlanta Mass Shooting would leave me with lifelong scars, fear, and paranoia.

It felt like I was constantly being stalked and observed by the outside world, yet no one was there to comfort me. As more hate crimes plagued the community, I felt more and more alone as those who I thought had cared about me never even checked in to ask if I was okay. The same people were silent about the rise in anti-Asian violence but took to their social media pages to display performative allyship during the height of BLM in the summer of 2020. 

These were my closest friends who also happened to heavily fetishize aspects of Asian cultures and continuously rave about a new anime show on their private stories and spam accounts. However, I never saw or heard anything about their concern for violence against the Asian community.

They knew what they were doing and could not admit to their plain ignorance. Oh, what a privilege it is to profit off cultures and act as though you’re not contributing to the problem. Having now distanced myself from them, I realize the toxicity of these subcultures based on fetishization. It bothered me every time I saw someone using our existence as an aesthetic. We grew up doing things that got us bullied and harassed, whereas now everything is a trend.

Each time they posted about craving dim sum or sushi or made comments about infantilizing Asian women, it slowly deteriorated my soul. These so-called friends never addressed the Sinophobic tropes regarding the virus, which continued to pit people against us. I waited months and months for them to at least ask how I was doing or voice their support for the Stop Asian Hate movement, but by the time the commotion had died down, they still had nothing to say. By the end of April, I was a complete wreck, refusing to go outside, staying in bed, and struggling in academics. Many acquaintances and people who have never even spoken to me had reached out to me, but I clung to the hope that my best friends would do the same. I was wrong.

My optimism and trust blinded me from healing. Coming face to face with the people who have wronged me was tricky. It took me a year to come to terms with the absolute garbage I had to endure. As I’ve become more informed, vocal and empowered, I now understand the importance of never compromising your values and personhood for the sake of an ingenuine friendship.  To the friends who never really cared about me and my fight for justice, I hope you learn about your ignorance someday. 

Have you ever struggled to confront friends or family about their “subtle” racist behaviour and fetishization? Let us know in the comments!

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After the events of the Atlanta mass shooting in March of 2021, I wrote an article for Next GenerAsian expressing my frustrations with the system and antagonization of  Asian Americans. Much of the details mentioned in that article are directly connected to this reflective piece. 

I’ve always had a strong fear of judgment and public ridicule all throughout my childhood. As I explained in my previous article, my parents are Chinese-Malaysian immigrants who were able to adapt to the norms of Canadian society; but in doing so, they had to abandon parts of their own cultural identities. My dad immigrated to Canada with his family in the 1970s, and my mom followed along in the 1990s.

My family made too many sacrifices to create a better life in Canada just for me to end up being an ungrateful and ignorant daughter. Fear of being bullied for embracing my culture paired with my dad’s own childhood racial trauma convinced my parents to shelter me and my sister from many things.

My dad and my aunt would be in their backyard with my grandpa and grandma as they'd bai sun, which in Hakka Chinese translates to "honouring the Gods." The Buddhist practice involves praying with incense sticks at a household altar traditionally used for, as stated, honouring Gods, ancestors and bringing good luck. White children in the neighbourhood would peek over the fence and see them doing this practice. They would notice the "foreign" foods used as offerings, which grossed them out, leading to them teasing, bullying, and shouting racial slurs at my aunt and dad.

Since hearing this story, I realized how my dad continues to internalize racism and refrains from opening up about his own struggles with identity.

Now in my second year of university, in a new city, childhood trauma follows me everywhere. In a place where I have barely any other East and Southeast Asian friends, I feel stranded and constantly reminded of my stubborn refusal to learn more about what it means to be Chinese-Malaysian. Why is it that when I walk in Chinatown I feel at home, but also like a tourist? I can’t communicate with my own people, and while I do understand parts of the dialect, they assume I’m not even Chinese.

Growing up, I pushed as hard as I could to dissociate from being Chinese-Malaysian and I’m starting to resent my younger self for it.

I always told my mom to speak English and refused to attend Chinese school because I felt ashamed. I told my family that I wished I wasn’t Chinese. I thought I was better than other Chinese kids because I could speak fluent English but in reality, they were multilingual and I was just monolingual. Plenty of times I also tried to play off the fact that I resemble someone of mixed race and did everything I could to escape my Chinese identity. As I approached my teenage years I also started to wear a lighter foundation pigment whenever my skin started to tan. 

The most vivid parts of these memories are the times I’d refuse to bring Asian lunches to school because of how my peers teased me.

All of these behaviours and failures to accept, share, and embrace my culture aren’t isolated to just me. I am just one of several kids who never felt proud of their cultural identity and heritage because of how society framed us.  

Those damn lunchbox moments changed me. Had I educated and informed my ignorant peers about how important food is to our culture I wouldn’t be as much of a banana (jook-sing) as I am today. 

Why did I force my mom to pack boring sandwiches and western foods when I could’ve embraced the culture and felt nourished, comforted, and proud of our vibrant cuisine. I had multiple chances to stand up, but I didn’t because of fear. Those kids who harassed me were just kids with no wider understanding of the world. The hate attributed to us through sinophobia, yellow peril, and the model minority myth dented my childhood and I cannot escape it even today.

I continue to hold the weight of the world on my shoulders – to carry on what little knowledge I have of my culture. For my future family and next generations, I have the chance to correct all the mistakes that I made. I had let social shame, conformity, and assimilation force me to become something that I am not. As the loss of culture begins, all attempts at preservation become extinct. 

While I haven't fully felt comfortable with my identity as an Asian woman, I’m trying to now. Much of the racism and sinophobia I have experienced changed my perceptions, attitudes, and actions. The Atlanta mass shooting was a pivotal moment in my life that forever changed my outlook on social movements and justice for the Asian community. As I’m more educated and informed about the history of my culture, I will work to dismantle the colonial systems of oppression that prevented me from learning my mother tongue or being proud of my heritage. I’ve been embracing our food, languages, and all aspects of culture while continuing to learn more about my people by reclaiming and restructuring the narratives surrounding my identity, something that I should have done since the beginning.

How have you struggled with embracing cultural identity? Did you ever experience a moment where your perception completely changed? Let us know in the comments!

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I never would have thought that I’d relate so much to a cartoon Japanese cat. When it came to my favorite TV show, Timothy Goes To School, I was forced to confront many of my own struggles with cultural identity. 

This animated show surrounds the adventures of a 5-year-old raccoon named Timothy, who experiences the joys of kindergarten class alongside several other peers. 

In episode 02 of the first season of the show, Yoko is bullied for bringing an amazing-looking sushi lunch to school only to find out from her peers that it’s disgusting, not normal, and looks like it’s moving. As Yoko urges her mom to bring cheeseburgers for international food day, her mom insists on creating deluxe sushi not knowing the struggles Yoko has already been facing at school. 

While everyone else devours the other international foods such as enchiladas and spaghetti, Yoko’s sushi is left untouched which leaves her at her lowest point. Timothy, after failing to try any of the foods, desperately eats the sushi and ends up thoroughly enjoying it, urging Yoko to bring more the next day.

That gradual change of heart and open-mindedness that was shown from Timothy is what saves people like Yoko from abandoning their culture. 

This was Yoko’s lunchbox moment.

What is the ‘Lunchbox Moment?’

The lunchbox moment is regarded as the first time BIPOC, especially immigrant communities such as Asian Americans experience racism at school and more specifically during lunchtime. It has been dubbed the “lunchbox moment” as it occurs when a child brings an ethnic meal packed by their parents. 

Michael Spencer, a professor in social work at the University of Washington and director of the university's Native Hawaiian, Pacific Islander, and Oceanic Affairs dissects the process. Spencer affirms that children feel very ashamed of what they have when opening their lunchboxes. This reaction is the result of the cultural differences between their food and other students,’ leaving a lasting impression.

“The kinds of behaviors that children are socialized to at a young age around race, around culture, around difference, whether it be accepting or not accepting, are the kinds of values that stay with people for a long time”

— Michael Spencer, Professor in Social Work at the University of Washington and Director of the university's Native Hawaiian, Pacific Islander and Oceanic Affairs 

“New Generations of Asian Immigrants Address the ‘Lunchbox Moment’”

This subject is central to my experiences with anti-Asian racism, which as noted by Spencer stem from stereotypes around our cuisines. Being slammed with hate comments about not bringing “normal food” for lunch or being asked repeatedly if I eat dogs or worms, became a constant obstacle in my life. 

While I was aware of the racism and discrimination I experienced, I only learned of the phrase a few years ago when my older sister, Meegan Lim, was creating her zine, MSG: The Craving for Cultural Embrace. This is when I finally started coming to terms with the several ways I have internalized racism via fear of bullying. While effective as a temporary coping mechanism, it worsened the extreme insecurities I was facing being one of very few East/Southeast Asian students at school.

Throughout elementary school, I convinced my mom to pack more sandwiches and other stereotypical American/Canadian meals to avoid bullying. I had undergone a period of only eating sandwiches which I absolutely resented, but for the sake of acceptance and comfort, I abandoned my cultural cuisine. The shame was not always present as sometimes I did bring Chinese and Malaysian dishes to school. My mom packed me various traditional meals ranging from dim sum, sticky rice, steamed fish, satay, chao fan, kaya toast, and lots of char siu; but as expected, I was still harassed and called out.

The pure racism and xenophobia in these early years of childhood were not bred from malice and hate, but rather sheer ignorance and a lack of cultural awareness. Just as it is for many others, food is an essential part of my culture, so when I was made to feel isolated, abnormal, and disgusting, I blamed my mom. Insulting our cuisine has been normalized to the point that I conformed and joined along, making fun of the things I ate just to feel accepted. 

Even in kindergarten, I had understood the cultural barriers between me and my classmates. My lived experience coupled with the toxic media portrayals of my people resulted in a loss of culture through refusing to learn my mother tongue and trying to assimilate as much as possible. 

The Harm of White Ignorance and Anti-Asian Racism on Television

When activist and social media influencer, Kim Saira, started a petition to boycott James Corden’s racist segment, Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts, I was once again reminded of these traumatic memories.

The racially insensitive segment is a "truth or dare" styled game where celebrity guests must either answer a difficult question or consume foreign food. However, many of those foods are traditional Asian meals such as balut, century eggs, chicken feet, bird’s nest soup and more. 

People are victims of hate crimes and murdered for appearing as East or Southeast Asian due to these sinophobic tropes and monoliths. During the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, much of this xenophobia is what fuelled the violence against Asian communities. Chinese people were blamed for starting the pandemic due to the usage of wet markets and consumption of foods perceived as foreign and dangerous.

For more information please review the following article written by Michelle T. King, Jia-Chen Fu, Miranda Brown, and Donny Santacaterina.

“Rumour, Chinese Diets, and COVID-19”

While viewers and supporters of the series interpret it as comedy, many of us recall years of intense pain. Only within the past few years have I finally embraced my cultural identity in many of its forms. The internalized racism and xenophobia will always be a part of me but slowly I am reconnecting and relearning how to feel proud and confident of who I am and where I’m from.

Have you ever had a lunchbox moment? What food were you eating?

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To further read about how cultural identity and food intersect, see the links below! 

The Limits of the Lunchbox Moment ︳Eater Essays

Lunchbox Moment ︳Sparks

MSG in Chinese food isn't unhealthy -- you're just racist, activists say ︳CNN

Racism targets Asian food, business during COVID-19 pandemic ︳PBS News Hour

'Chinese Restaurant Syndrome' - what is it and is it racist? ︳US & Canada

On June 11th, 2021, Megha Rajagopalan of Buzzfeed News was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for International Reporting for her series of reporting on China’s Uyghur detention camps in Xinjiang. Her five-part series focuses on the vast infrastructure constructed by the Chinese government in order to detain targeted “Muslim minorities,” mainly ethnic Uyghurs, and to subject them to forced labor under the guise of re-educating extremists. The methodology used by Rajagopalan to compile these reports focused on cross-referencing satellite images over Xinjiang of the detention camps as well as taking first-hand interviews from detained Uyghur victims. Though the work is undoubtedly an impressive piece of investigative journalism, these reports only highlight a partial truth within the broad issue of ethnic relations within China. Unfortunately, they have set the tone for all major Western media reports on the topic to be equally monotonous repetitions providing a surface-level laundry list of the Chinese government’s human rights violations. The core narrative taken on by mainstream international media is a firestorm of shallow and generalized criticism towards the Chinese government’s actions for being Islamophobic and racist. 

Western reports on Xinjiang are rife with language often used to characterize Islamophobia in America and Europe, with critics now dubbing the predicament as an organized genocide against Uyghurs driven by anti-Islamic sentiments. Though these claims are not necessarily untrue altogether, they frame the Uyghur issue in a particular light meant to demonize not only the Chinese government, but also portray the modern Han Chinese people as colonizers similar to the British or French of the 19th century. However, the problem with this narrative is its tendency to mislead a detached, Western audience due to oversight of complex, racial dynamics within China. As a result, this narrative unwittingly wedges China’s unique ethnoreligious woes into the ill-fitted frame of the West’s own struggle with Islamophobia as well as playing into rising antagonism towards China in the West. 

Historical Roots

To begin with, Buzzfeed’s first article on this matter claims that “the position of Muslim minorities, particularly Uighurs, in China has been fraught since the Communist Party came to power in 1949.” Though the statement itself is true at face value, it is nonetheless highly misleading, implying that anti-Islamic sentiments and racism against Uyghurs, which are equated to the same type of anti-Islamic sentiments present in The US and Europe, began with the Communist takeover of 1949. This statement encourages uninformed readers to conjure up the image of an independent “Uyghur nation” prior to 1949 and Chinese rule. 

Yet anyone well-versed in Chinese history will point out that this implication is far from the truth. The region which we currently refer to as “Xinjiang (新疆)” is an area historically contested by multiple political and ethnic groups, including but not limited to Mongolians, Uyghurs, Russians, Han Chinese, and Manchurians. The final of these five groups, under the Manchurian dynasty of Qing China (1644-1912), captured Xinjiang from the Mongolian Dzungar Khanate in 1759. Manchu brutality towards Oirat Mongolians and Uyghurs during Qing rule of Xinjiang is indeed of historical record. Muslim-led rebellions broke out in Xinjiang on multiple occasions, the most notable of which are Jahangir Khoja’s rebellion in the 1820s and the Hui Minorities Revolt (alternatively, the Dungan Rebellion) in the 1860s. 

As previously mentioned, much of Western media’s criticisms has been focused on Islamophobia, which happens to be a hot-button issue in the West. Hence, I highlight these two particular revolts because the key distinction between these two revolts reveal the shallowness of a Western narrative bent on lumping complicated ethnic relations into the umbrella term of “Islamophobia.” The former of the two revolts is a Uyghur-ledrevolt, while the latter is a Hui-ledrevolt. The Uyghurs are a specific ethnic group who traditionally inhabit the region of Xinjiang, distinct from the Hui people, who hail from much more mixed historical roots (descendants of Arabian merchants in China, multiple ethnic Turkic groups, early Han Chinese converts to Islam, etc.) and are geographically spread out in China. In fact, statistically speaking, a majority of Muslims in China are Hui and not Uyghur. Thus, to equate Xinjiang’s situation with Western Islamophobia—rooted in a long history of Christian hostility and competition with neighboring Muslim empires—reduces China’s ethnoreligious troubles into a convenient framework Euro-Americans are familiar with. In the case of the Uyghur detention camps, the Chinese government is more so targeting the ethnicity of Uyghur instead of the religion of Islam, so to talk of Uyghur detention camps and generalized Islamophobia in one breath is a gross oversimplification. (Note, this does not imply that discrimination against the Hui people is not present in China nor does this suggest that the Chinese government does not take issue with the religion of Islam, but this topic will be addressed in the next section.)

After the fall of the Qing Dynasty (1912), the entire region of North and Northwestern China, oftentimes referred to as China’s borderland regions, fell into disarray. Xinjiang in particular experienced violent Uyghur and Hui uprisings, northern Chinese warlordism, and invasion by the Soviet Union. It was also during this period that Uyghur nationalism swept the population of Xinjiang, resulting in the proclamation of a short-lived First East Turkestan Republic. Arguably, prior to the early 20th century, the region of Xinjiang (and in fact the adjacent regions of modern day Mongolia and Tibet) was an area of harsh climates shared by a colorful array of mainly nomadic ethnic groups, including but not limited to multiple peoples Turkic or Mongolian in origin. The loose rule of multiple Khanates, nomadism, and merchant trade characterized the region prior to the sweep of nationalism, which pushed local groups to undergo ethnogenesis and attempt to stake historical claims on a piece of land which previously “belonged” to no one group in particular. 

“Colonialism” and “Genocide”

In addition to reductionist Euro-American claims relegating Uyghur detention camps to simple Islamophobia, the Western media has also used words such as “colonialism” and “genocide” to describe the Chinese government’s treatment of Uyghurs. I take issue with the usage of both these terms, mainly because they are once again both only partial truths. To understand the nuances within the Chinese Communist Party (CCP)’s treatment of Uyghurs and non-Han ethnic minorities, we must delve into racial dynamics and political beliefs in China today as well as the CCP’s strategies towards governance at large.

Firstly, the term “colonialism” as used in Buzzfeed News’s coverage of Uyghur detention camps implies perceived racial superiority to justify the subjugation of a lesser people harkening back to Western ideas of the so-called “white man’s burden.” While the methods used by the CCP in governing and subjugating ethnic minorities in China unquestionably resemble those used in Western colonization, the reasons for this subjugation is not exactly the same. As covered in the previous section, multiple groups stake a historical claim upon the region of Xinjiang, including, of course, the People’s Republic of China. In fact, after the fall of the Qing Dynasty, China has never recognized the Uyghur and Turkic uprisings in Xinjiang as anything other than temporary breakaways, and this sentiment is consistent throughout the reigns of both the Republic of China (1912-1949; currently, the government of Taiwan) and the People’s Republic of China (1949-present). The idea of a unified China--originating in China’s nationalistic intellectual movement of the late 19th and early 20th century--includes its northern borderland regions of Mongolia, Tibet, and Xinjiang. This idea far predated 1949, unlike what Buzzfeed’s article may suggest. China under the CCP reconquered the region of Xinjiang in 1949 because it was perceived as a retaking of a breakaway province, which is the same reason the CCP still plans to reclaim Taiwan today. 

Meanwhile, Han-centrism actually predates this idea of a unified China by several thousand years, since the Han have been portraying “borderland peoples” as uncivilized and barbaric long before the seeds of Western nationalism influenced the thought politics of China. In fact, traditional Han-centrism often wanted little to do with the borderlands in terms of governance, as these lands were seen as undesirable with little arable land and overrun by uncivilized, violent peoples. It was not until the conquering of these regions by the Manchurian Qing and the subsequent birth of Chinese nationalism in the early 1900s that this idea was popularized. Thus, although Han-centrism and feelings of racial superiority is inevitably still present in China today, the core political justification for reconquering Xinjiang has little to do with racial dominance and more to do with the goal of reunifying what Han nationalists view as lands rightfully belonging to China. 

The second term Western media has used in a rather careless manner regarding the Uyghur detention camps is that of “genocide.” For this particular term to stick, there would have to be intent by the Chinese government to eradicate the Uyghur ethnicity completely, similar to Hitler’s infamous Final Solution. However, there is little evidence of an attempt to actually cull the Uyghur population en masse, but rather a cruel and iron-fisted attempt to re-education and Sinicize Uyghurs into manageable citizens. Western media accuses the CCP of violating the freedom of religion and putting Uyghurs under indentured servitude. However, one must consider the fact that forced labor and religious subjugation are all just part and parcel of classic CCP methods in managing its citizens. In fact, forced labor is par for the course in Chinese prisons today, and all religious organizations operating in China are more or less legally required to be under direct CCP control, including the religions favored by Han Chinese like Buddhism and Daoism. So, in actuality, the single defining feature of the Uyghur detention camps is that they are specifically targeted towards an entire ethnic group. Combined with classic methods of CCP control like forced labor, re-education, and religious subjugation, it becomes comparable to colonialist attempts at “ethnic cleansing.” However, as we will see in the next section, the Uyghur detention camps are the product of the CCP’s own failures in ethnic governance. “Ethnic cleansing” was never the initial intent when the CCP retook Xinjiang in 1949, and nor did it become a part of the CCP’s plans until fairly recently.  

So how did things escalate to the point where the CCP felt it was necessary to eradicate the Uyghurs’ racial identity? The answer is, as always, multifaceted, and in part due to the CCP’s own struggles to maintain control over its culturally-diverse population. 

Divisive Policies and Governing Ethnicities

It may surprise many that in the decades prior to Xi Jinping’s presidency, the CCP’s official rhetoric on China’s ethnic minorities is that they should be culturally celebrated whilst being incorporated into the nation of China. This is what Chinese children are taught starting from elementary school, and in theory, this promise of cultural celebration continues today, though increased antagonism towards minorities is on the rise along with Han-centrism. In reality, this rhetoric was cleverly designed to achieve effective ethnic governance in a country as large and diverse as China, to maintain control over both ethnic minorities and the Han Chinese population. 

The Communist government’s approach to governing ethnic minorities has always been the classic strategy of the carrot and the stick. The “stick” is by far the easiest to understand. Ethnic minorities are subjugated to stricter laws, forced to study a government-approved education program including Mandarin and CCP-approved history (standard nationwide), and are often discriminated against by local government officials. Any attempt at protest or uprising is promptly put down by force. The “carrot,” meanwhile, is an element of Chinese society not well-known abroad. A major pillar of the CCP’s appeasement policies comes in the form of the highly controversial affirmative action laws benefiting ethnic minorities, particularly in the area of education. 

Education in China is unimaginably competitive, with only 62.71% of students passing entrance exams from middle school to high school and 81.79% of high school students passing into college in 2019. As college acceptance is based purely on points, the difference of one point can very much decide which schools a student gets accepted into. Thus, the fact that ethnic minorities in China get free bonus points to boost their college entrance exam scores is a matter of heated contention between Han Chinese citizens and ethnic minorities. In addition to this, ethnic minorities are not subject to the infamous one-child policy, do not have to pay taxes to the central government, and  receive heavy government subsidies for local welfare. This is clearly a strategic move to “buy off” minority populations in exchange for political obedience. But Han Chinese citizens living under the lethal conditions of the Chinese job market are understandably unhappy with this perceived favoritism. All of these factors are compounded with the fact that political abuses towards ethnic minorities are practically unknown within the Han Chinese populace due to state control of the media. The result is that Han Chinese are generally unsympathetic and uninformed towards the plight of minorities such as Tibetans or Uyghurs. 

The strategy the CCP uses to manage its Han and minority citizens hinges upon ensuring political obedience, creating a controlled rift between Han Chinese and ethnic minorities. As long as any ethnic group, Uyghur or otherwise, remained relatively obedient and accepting of government demands such as receiving a Mandarin education, they were free to reap the fruits of state-funded welfare and practice their own cultures and religions as long as it occurred under CCP control. Herein lies the precarious balance of the carrot and the stick strategy, which remained relatively effective throughout the eras of Deng Xiaoping, Jiang Zemin, and Hu Jintao. 

So why exactly did Xi Jinping’s government decide to suddenly crack down on Uyghurs? The answer is due, in large part, to the visibility of violent Uyghur-related incidents. The first incident of note are the riots of July 2009, where nearly 200 people, mostly Han Chinese, were killed during an ethnically-motivated bout of violence between Han Chinese and Uyghurs in the Xinjiang capital of Urumqi. Though the incident which triggered the riots was the death of two Uyghur workers killed in a brawl with Han Chinese, the impression these riots left in the minds of the Han populace at large was a violent and volatile Uyghur population which aligns with stereotypes of Uyghurs as barbaric. The second turning point is the infamous 2012 station stabbings, during which a group of Uyghurs initiated an attack in the Urumqi train station, killing 3 and injuring 79 with a combination of explosives and knife stabbings. After this 2012 incident, a number of Uyghur-initiated public stabbings followed. A wave of horror swept the nation as Uyghurs were framed as religious extremists and terrorists by official state media, which blamed Jihadists from the Middle East for infiltrating the ranks of China’s Uyghurs and breeding terrorism. Of course, the irony of this strategy is how smoothly the CCP used dominant international rhetoric about Islamic Jihadism and terrorism to scapegoat the ethnic grievances of Uyghurs in China. 

Yet, as it turned out, to relegate these stabbings to Muslim Jihadism was only the first step. The visibility of these incidents had disrupted the general populace to an unacceptable level, with the Chinese government worrying that it may appear as if it had lost control over the Uyghurs in the eyes of the public. This insecurity, combined with the increase in government oversight and the rise of Han nationalism under Xi Jinping’s rule, resulted in the Uyghur detention camps. 

The construction of these camps may appear to be a senseless act of persecution in the eyes of the foreign public, but from the perspective of CCP governance, it makes sense. The picture that we get from piecing together Xinjiang’s regional histories and the CCP’s strategy of ethnic governance is a multi-ethnic nation crippled under a regime bent on maintaining tight control of all of its citizens at any price. The CCP is not motivated by pure Islamophobia or the spirit of 19th century colonialism, but rather a strategic management of its own population. By exacerbating ethnic divisions and promoting Han-centrism, the CCP keeps its citizens divided, obedient, and easily governable. Though there are definitely elements of colonialism in the way the CCP treats its ethnic minorities, the general strategy used by the CCP to create obedience and maintain control is applied to of its population as a whole—Han, Uyghur, or otherwise. In addition, the main reason for an ethnic crackdown on Uyghurs is not so much Islamophobia or even racism, but rather to crush perceived opposition and preserve the CCP’s image of absolute control. Thus, when these factors are taken into account, the Western media’s criticism appear a shallow and misleading portrayal of its own insecurities surrounding Islamophobia and racism, which it attempts to project upon the “enemy” nation of China. 

To further decolonize our minds, check out my sources for this piece:

A Struggle of “Life or Death”: Han and Uyghur Insecurities in China’s North-West Frontier by David Tobin

Borderland Capitalism: Turkestan Produce, Qing Silver, and the Birth of an Eastern Market by Kwangmin Kim

Charting the Course of Uyghur Unrest by Justin V. Hastings

China Secretly Built a Vast Infrastructure to Imprison Uighurs by Megha Rajagopalan

Eurasian Crossroads: a History of Xinjiang by James A. Millward

Explaining the Chinese framing of the “terrorist” violence in Xinjiang: insights from securitization theory

The Uyghur Conflict in Chinese Xinjiang by Kunal Mukherjee

Xinjiang station attack: President Xi Jinping urges action from BBC News

各级普通学校升学率（各省）Percentage of Students Rising Per School Level (by Province) from the Ministry of Education of the People’s Republic of China

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Followers of Chinese history know that 1978 was a great turning point in the nation’s economic history. On December 13th of that year, Deng Xiaoping—the then-premier of the Chinese Communist Party—delivered a carefully planned speech prefacing the momentous shift that was to occur in Chinese economic policy. Criticizing party members for clinging to the “book knowledge” of the past, Deng urged China to modernize in order to face the changing world order. What followed was one of the most ambitious economic transformations in modern history. China quickly moved from a centrally planned economy to a market economy, a policy of opening up and reform referred to as gaige kaifang (改革开放). China’s economy exploded, lifting hundreds of millions out of poverty and catapulting China onto the world stage.

Today, China is a strong (if not the primary) contender for global hegemony. The “rise of China,” as it has been dubbed, has been a topic of great attention for the past decade. Observers are right to pay attention: China’s explosive GDP growth, which sat at a staggering annual average of 14.2% before the 2008 recession, was leaps and bounds ahead of any other nation’s. Though this growth has leveled off somewhat today, China is still accelerating at an unprecedented rate, its GDP growing 18.3% in the first quarter of 2021.

As China has risen, anti-Chinese rhetoric has grown with it. This is hardly unexpected; any threat to American primacy evokes an aggressive response. Countless news outlets decry China as “backwards” and “undemocratic.” The CCP response to COVID-19 has been condemned as “beyond mere lying and negligence.” The FBI maintains a webpage dedicated to “the China threat,” and a quote from FBI Director Christopher Wray reinforcing China as the primary global threat headlines the page:

“The greatest long-term threat to our nation’s information and intellectual property, and to our economic vitality, is the counterintelligence and economic espionage threat from China.”

Increasingly, the U.S. stance against China has been one of confrontation rather than cooperation, verging on the outbreak of a “new Cold War.” The emergence, therefore, of the startling rise in Sinophobia and anti-Asian hate crimes is anything but unexpected.

In the 1970s and 80s, a Japan far removed from the imperialist dreams of World War II began to experience immense growth in its auto industry, becoming one of the world’s leading automotive manufacturers. This growth, which was facilitated by the U.S. as a bulwark against communism, immediately triggered an outpouring of anti-Japanese sentiment. American auto-workers, believing that the Japanese auto industry was stealing American jobs, began holding demonstrations around the country. One demonstration in Northern Indiana on Sept. 10, 1982 saw autoworkers smashing Japanese automobiles with sledgehammers. This anti-Japanese sentiment eventually led to the murder of Vincent Chin, an event that continues to shake the Asian American community to this day. 

In many ways, the rise of China parallels Japan’s economic miracle. The response from America and the world has been even more severe: hatred for China, as the primary target for the West’s xenophobia in recent years and now, the scapegoat for COVID-19, has fueled a spree of hate crimes that makes the Chin case look like an isolated incident.

This is why demanding that we “raise awareness” and “recognize Asians as human” is simply a band-aid over a gaping wound. Though anti-Asian hate does not have purely economic origins, this struggle for primacy has fueled a perception of China as undemocratic and its people as backwards. Regardless of the veracity of these claims, it is not enough to believe that these issues are purely social. Rather, they are results of the dynamics endemic to capitalism, of the drive to dominate and compete, and of the need to dehumanize those that we attempt to triumph over. Until this curtain is lifted, things will never truly change for either Asian Americans or the next targets of American villain-making. 

Perhaps Radio Free Amanda, someone who’s very quickly becoming one of my favorite figures, said it best:  

Nations rise and fall. China’s explosive economic growth is part of a growing challenge to American hegemony, and its defense has been anti-Asian rhetoric and dehumanization. Regardless of the impact China’s rise will have on the international order, we must learn from the lessons of our past to prevent the worsening of our conditions today.

To further decolonize our minds:

Edward Said on Orientalism

The Short Guide to Capital in the 21st Century

Western Imperialism in East Asia

Radio Free Amanda on Twitter

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As an Indian American woman, though, I sense an overlooking of hate crimes against brown-skinned Asians—specifically the hate that has been targeted against those from South Asia. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, an Asian person is one who has origins in the Far East, Southeast Asia, or the Indian Subcontinent. Yet, the term “anti-Asian” is predominantly used in reference to attacks on those with origins in East Asia. 

So why don’t I see my face in Asian American media? Where are my aunties and uncles who have been assaulted or brutally murdered? After all, we are Asian too... aren’t we? 

While ignorance runs rampant in certain Asian communities, it is important to recognize that East Asians are not to blame for this exclusion; the fault lies in imperialism. Before the term “Asian American” was coined, East Asian people were generally referred to as the derogatory term: “Orientals.” The word “Orient” was originally adopted to describe nations in the Eastern world, relative to Europe. However, the scope of the term has changed several times throughout history. During the 1800s, “the Orient” described a region encompassing anywhere from Moscow to Egypt to China, and later shifted to describe the Asian continent. By the mid-20th century, however, the term was predominantly used by Western scholars to address anyone with East Asian heritage. It was not until the 1960s and 1970s that “Oriental” was used by white Americans to marginalize and alienate East Asian Americans during the Cold War. 

Since the late 20th century, the derogatory term has maintained a racist and objectifying intent. While it is politically correct to use “Oriental” to discuss objects with an East Asian background, the most common example being rugs, this term is loaded with racist intent and perpetuates an inaccurate association of Asianness with solely East Asians. 

In response to derogatory terms like “Oriental,” the “Asian American” identity was birthed by Emma Gee and Yuji Ichioka in 1968. They sought to increase the visibility of activists of Asian descent through a student organization which they named the Asian American Political Alliance, drawing inspiration from the Black Power Movement. While they intended to be inclusive to all Asians, the “Asian American Movement” was referred to as the “Yellow Power Movement.” As a result, East Asian Americans were centered as the dominant voice in the movement, and later, in Asian American studies. And while Southeast and South Asians vocally opposed the exclusivity of the Asian American movement, Southeast Asian American issues have been considerably more recognized today than those of South Asian Americans.

Pan-Asianism, or the Asian solidarity movement which aims to create a united defense against Western imperialism, was solidified in Asia in the early 1900s. Organizations like the Asiatic Humanitarian Brotherhood were formed by anarchists and socialists with the intent of promoting collective liberation through published writings. Despite efforts at pan-Asian unity, though, it’s impossible to rewrite our fractured history; as Japan’s imperial empire grew, the pan-Asian movement was manipulated to fuel the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere that legitimized the Japanese empire’s expansion. 

And so, the movement was lost in a narrative enhanced by Western scholars and politicians that pitted East Asian and South Asian ethnic groups against each other. The pan-Asianism movement was often compared to the pan-Germanism movement which was used to advance Nazism. As a result, the American perception of South Asian identities formed in separate spheres than those of East Asians, dating back to the mass immigration movements of the early 1900s. 

The Indian subcontinent was under British colonial rule from 1858 to 1947, and many of the first South Asian immigrants were Punjabi farmworkers escaping British exploitation and university students seeking an education in America. Following the onset of the 1900s, though, British exploitation worsened as farmers were forced to grow cash crops like indigo instead of food crops, causing a severe famine. As an increasing number of farmworkers emigrating in hopes of supporting their family’s physical and financial needs, university students began rallying for the Indian freedom struggle, which threatened Britain’s colonial government. In 1904, Theodore Roosevelt legitimized the British colonial rule of India by comparing it to American rule in the Philippines, and the U.S. government followed British demands to enforce restrictions on the “Asiatic Barred Zone.” In 1923, South Asians were deemed ineligible for naturalization in the Supreme Court case the United States v. Bhagat Singh Thind. On top of their dehumanization from Western institutions, South Asians were confronted by violent, racially motivated riots from American and European labor unions, forcing South Asians to work only in agriculture.

Despite this history of oppression, the U.S. Census Bureau classified Indian Americans as white because they were not considered a “discriminated minority group.” It was not until 1980 that “Asian Indian” was created as a category on the census, and by 2000, the term “South Asian” was coined to include Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Sri Lankan, and Nepalese Americans.

What the experiences of South and East Asians have in common though (aside from geographical location), is white imperial domination. South Asians, like those from the East, have suffered under the same oppressive white imperialist regimes. We have all been bombed, brutally murdered, degraded, and dehumanized. With this shared history of violence in mind, I can’t help but wonder where South Asians fit into the Asian American Movement today. 

The fact of the matter is, we don’t. While #StopAsianHate was born from Sinophobia and specifically targets people who are perceived to be Chinese, the term “Asian” has long been used in reference to a subgroup that negates the Asianness of non-East Asian ethnic groups. Thus, the issue is in the exclusivity of what is perceived as “Asian” itself. “South Asian” hate exists outside of the Asian narrative despite their inherent Asianness, and the hyper-focusing of East Asians in the Asian American community perpetuates this exclusion.

Countless Asian lives have been lost without acknowledgment because they were not perceived to be Asian. Movements like #StopAsianHate were nonexistent when 71-year-old Sahib Singh Natt was attacked by the son of a Manteca Police Department chief. There was no solidarity or outrage, no vigils, or Twitter threads when four Indians were violently attacked within two weeks in 2017. Granted, the increasing use of social media attributes to a rise in community support that did not exist prior to the late 2010s. But following the frequent hate crimes against South Asian Americans in 2017, the FBI reported that anti-Sikh crimes rose by 200% in 2019, making Sikhs the third most commonly targeted religious group in America. And still, this threat towards a population of hundreds of thousands of Indian Americans has garnered little attention. 

The same can be said about anti-Asian hate crimes targeted towards South Asian Americans within the past few months. On March 21, a 68-year-old Sri Lankan immigrant, Narayange Bodhi, was attacked on a Manhattan train and suffered from severe head injuries and even memory loss. I found it astounding that this incident did not provoke outrage the way attacks against East Asian Americans have. I, myself, had not heard about tragedy until recently. 

East Asians did not segregate the Asian identity, but South Asian feelings of invisibility in the general Asian American community have not been addressed. Nevertheless, it’s important not to point fingers at East Asians for a narrative written by white people. South Asians have been imputed to denigrating terms like “terrorists,” “dirty,” and “greedy,” but East Asians are also stranded in the political narrative of the model minority myth. East and South Asians have been cherry-picked to fulfill a stereotype prescribed by white culture and adopted by their own. We all have struggled with the imposter syndrome imposed on us for not meeting intangible expectations of academic and financial success. While attacks against East and South Asians vary in objective, they share the same roots in white supremacy.

And so, it is not the responsibility of Asian Americans to remedy whiteness and desegregate the Asian narrative, nor is it possible. There simply is no way to “undo” imperialism. No amount of Instagram posts or Snapchat stories will pull India out of a state of perpetual poverty, just like no amount of letters to Congress will stop the US government from using the Philippines as a dumping ground for foreign waste. East and South Asian groups must unite, not to create a homogeneous Asian American community, but to collectively confront their unique issues.

“In order for Asian Americans to further advance as a political voice in the United States, it is imperative to address historical hierarchies, community dynamics, and inter-ethnic conflicts.”

— Kevin L Nadal
Author, Activist, and Professor 

The only way to bridge this gap is by decolonizing our minds through active self-education. 

Authors like Eri Hotta, who explores the relationship between pan-Asianism and Japanese imperialism, or Arundhati Roy, who analyzes the effects of global capitalism on South Asia, are great resources for learning about the distinct and collective struggles of Asians. Book recommendations can be found here.

Coalitions and organizations to consider joining or supporting include the Sikh Coalition, DRUM: Desis Rising Up and Moving, SAQTC: South Asian Queer + Trans Collective, and API Chaya.

And finally, here’s a video just for laughs.

I’d love to hear from you all! How did you previously define “Asian American?” Where else do you see an underrepresentation of South Asian Americans? Leave a comment below. Thank you!

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On March 3, 1875, the 43rd Congress of the United States enacted the Page Act, which barred Chinese women from entering the United States by classifying them as “lewd or immoral”—essentially labeling them as prostitutes.

On May 6, 1882, the 47th Congress passed the Chinese Exclusion Act, which barred Chinese people from entering the United States for the next ten years. In 1892, the 52nd Congress passed the Geary Act, which extended this ban for the next decade.

On May 26, 1924, the 68th Congress passed the Johnson-Reed Act, preventing immigration from Asia and setting immigration quotas for the rest of the world.

On August 3, 1979, a group of Ku Klux Klan-backed white fishermen firebombed several Vietnamese fishing boats and homes in Seadrift, Texas.

On June 19, 1982, a pair of white men murdered Vincent Chin in Highland Park, Michigan, because they thought he was Japanese. 

And on March 6, 2021, a 21-year-old white man opened fire on three separate spas in Atlanta, Georgia, killing eight people, six of which were Asian.

Let me make it clear: we Asian Americans are not “basically white” or “white-proximal.” We are perpetual foreigners, subject to the ravages of whiteness in the same ways that many of our brothers and sisters of other races have been. If it took us being gunned down in our homes and businesses to recognize that, then history must not have imparted on America the lessons of our past. We’ve not seen our struggles in our history textbooks or class curriculums, so perhaps now is the time to realize that despite our “model minority” status, we’ve had a target painted on our backs from day one. 

Some of those who did not grow up with “yellow skin” and “slanted eyes” think that the recent rise in anti-Asian hate crimes is an artifact of Trump’s rhetoric and the pandemic, destined to fade away with a new administration. But for Asian Americans, our reality is very different. What COVID-19 exposed was the sleeping, rabid dog hiding underneath veneers of pleasantry. Despite our best efforts to live as their neighbors, speak their language, and share in their American Dream, white society would always see us as something Other, something detestable. 

This recent wave of anti-Asian hate is simply business as usual. Don’t forget that we died building your railroads just to turn around and endure one of the worst immigration acts in modern history. Don’t forget that we crossed the ocean for the promise of gold, like white people, just to be pushed out. And most of all, don’t forget that kids like me saw how you treated us—the names you called us, the looks you shot at us, the way you pulled your eyes and mimicked our accents. Asian Americans have been put down, abused, and murdered on the basis of our skin color since we first stepped foot on these shores. Our stories, however, have been muffled because we “behave.” We can’t suffer under whiteness because we’re “basically white,” right?

But we can, and we do. Take Vincent Chin, for example, someone that the Asian American community has never forgotten but the rest of America seems to have. On June 19, 1982, Vincent Chin was celebrating his upcoming wedding when he was brutally beaten to death by two white auto-workers. Chin’s murder—explored in the 1987 documentary film Who Killed Vincent Chin?—was an outpouring of xenophobic, racial hatred, all because his killers believed that he was Japanese. At the time, the astronomical rise of the Japanese auto industry was pushing many American auto-workers out of work (his killers included). Chin’s murderers were later sentenced to three years’ probation and a fine of $3,000, a slap on the wrist that has echoed throughout the Asian American community to this day.

After the lenient sentencing, the Asian American community erupted in outrage, a moment widely considered a turning point for Asian American civil rights engagement. Activist Helen Zia led a group of American lawyers and community leaders to form American Citizens for Justice, an organization that partnered with churches, synagogues, and Black activists to protest the sentencing. People began to hold their own demonstrations across the country. At the end of the day, however, despite the widespread galvanization of Asian Americans across the country, little changed. Neither of Chin’s killers saw a single day in jail.

But we can’t forget that Vincent Chin was a man with his own hopes and dreams, not simply a victim of racial violence. Born into a Chinese orphanage on May 18, 1955, he was adopted by a World War II veteran, Bing Hing Chin, and his wife, Lily. Chin spent much of his life in Highland Park, Michigan; despite being born in Guangdong, he was just as American as they came. Gary Koivu, his longtime friend who was to be Chin’s best man at his wedding, remembered this about him: 

Like it or not, Vincent Chin’s murder proves a number of things. Firstly, though it’s been a running gag for years and decades, white people cannot tell Chinese Americans apart from our Asian American brethren. “You all look the same!” they tell us. Where it was once just a jab at our appearances, Chin’s murder exposed the ugly consequences of this anti-Asian rhetoric. In the case of Vincent Chin, hatred for the Japanese led to a Chinese death. Now, hatred for China is killing all Asian Americans simply for “looking the same.” Despite how well we seem to do—and truly, we are not doing well at all—we will always be seen as something alien and non-native. 

Our identity is perpetually and externally determined by white power; where white people are free to choose for themselves what they will become and transcend racial boundaries, the same cannot be said for us. The power afforded to whiteness is precisely what makes life in America so precarious. They can characterize and shape our identities, grant and take away our wretched “model minority” status, and even strip away our right to live. From 1871 to today, Asian Americans have earned what we believed to be a begrudging acceptance from whiteness to live our lives, own our businesses, and nurture our communities. But the Chinese Massacre, the Chinese Exclusion Act, Vincent Chin, COVID-19, and now Atlanta have shown us that this superficial “most preferred minority” status can always, without exception, be taken away. I urge the Asian American community to recognize this reality. No matter how far we think we’ve gotten, we must remember that we will always be perceived as strangers in this land, and that we have always been susceptible to the murderous power of American racism. 

We have never been invulnerable. To protect ourselves, we must first come to grips with the ever-present reality that there will always be something stopping us from being American, and leaving us perpetually Asian American. But at the same time, we should be careful not to disavow our heritage—after all, it is what ties us to our homelands, and gives us our identities.

To further decolonize our minds:

Scott Kurashige | Detroit and the Legacy of Vincent Chin

Mark Tseng-Putterman | On Vincent Chin and the Kind Of Men You Send to Jail

NBC Asian America | Voices: Who Is Vincent Chin?

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While it was disheartening to hear about an incident so close to home, it came as no surprise when there have been daily reports of Asians being beaten, slashed, and murdered. The incident in Flushing was disturbing, and it was infuriating to see another case where an Asian hate crime went unrecognized and unpunished. However, the acknowledgment of this fact should never mean passivity. It is our responsibility to make sure these incidents don’t repeat themselves. To do so, we have to examine the source of these crimes. Even though anti-Asian sentiments have always been ingrained into American history, this 150% increase in racially motivated attacks is no coincidence. The root cause behind these attacks becomes clear when we examine the political messages that have been peddled by government officials and media outlets over not just these past months, but also decades prior. 

Unfortunately, racism against Asians has been leveraged as a political tool. Trumpian phrases like “Kung flu” and “Chinese virus” have become a routine part of the Right Wing lexicon, operating as political statements above all else. This became evident, back in March, when former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo scrapped a joint G7 statement on the Coronavirus after European officials refused to call Covid-19 the "Wuhan Virus" and when Trump explicitly crossed out the word "Coronavirus" in his speech replacing it with "Chinese" virus instead. When politicians and government officials say “China Flu,” it’s not because they aren’t aware of COVID-19’s official titles. Rather, it is parroted to push the false narratives that “the Chinese are responsible for the virus” and absolve fault from the American government. But such politicizing of Asian racism isn’t just exclusive to the Republican Party. Even beyond the virus narratives, we also have to question how our media and government portray China. More specifically, how Western media have portrayed China as a people, China as a government, China as a nation, and the dangers of ignoring such distinctions. 

The vision of China in the minds of most Americans has been clouded by Western news sources that paint China as a merciless totalitarian state. According to a 2015 study published by the International Journal of Communication, media portrayals of China and the Chinese people were rarely accurate depictions and many publications overwhelmingly portrayed the nation as an "aggressive, brutal and dangerous place.” The reason behind such negative depictions seems to stem from China's ability to challenge the United State's global hegemony and foothold over East Asia. In recent months, the United States has used China's emerging economic and political power as a reason to expand military bases in Okinawa while also calling for the stationing of offensive missiles in Japan, Taiwan, and the Philippines. Through these active attempts at strengthening military presence in East Asia, we're beginning the re-emergence of America's imperialist legacy upon Asian countries.

By depicting China as a country aiming to challenge U.S. power and refuting principles and values that Americans embrace, the American news media could lead their audiences to view China as a threat to the United States.

— LingLing Zhang, Professor at Towson University

However, when we account for the complexities of a nation with 1.3 billion people and 56 ethnic groups, it’s obvious that China can’t be viewed as a monolith. Yet, the overwhelming mainstream headlines tend to implicate Chinese citizens as either responsible or victims of the actions of the Chinese government. From stories of organ harvesting to extreme state oppression, these reports are often meant to serve a political purpose rather than make a real effort to flush out wrongdoing. These narratives make use of what can be regarded as “atrocity propaganda,” which is defined as the spreading of either real or fabricated atrocities that are used to dehumanize another nation. Currently, we can see the most recent attempt at atrocity propaganda with the narratives surrounding the Xinjiang internment camps, where stories of human rights violations regularly make the news. The problem with many Western reports on Xinjiang is that they often politicize accounts and publish unverified sources as factual. For example, “videos of people being tortured in Xinjiang” had circulated media outlets in these past months, only to be later debunked as videos from domestic abuse cases or acting performances. 

"For a start, it accomplishes nothing to exaggerate the Communist Party’s crimes in Xinjiang. Countless true stories of families torn apart and Uyghurs living in terror appall any humane listener."

— The Economist

One thing that should be made clear is that China isn’t innocent of authoritarianism, and human rights violations are in fact happening in Xinjiang. Western reports on Xinjiang have often been refuted due to the use of biased sources like far-right fundamentalist Adrian Zenz or reports from the ASPI, an Australian think tank funded by military contractors. But consistent testimonies from ethnic Uyghurs and Kazakhs detained in Xinjiang unequivocally confirm the existence and brutality of the Xinjiang camps. There are approximately one million Uyghurs who are unjustly detained in internment camps and those outside the camps are often subject to unreasonable police searches. Several accounts from Uyghur women reveal the horrific treatment and crimes being propagated by police including forced sterilizations, food deprivation, torture, and rampant sexual assault. These testimonies from two Uyghur women, Tursunay Ziawudun and Gulzira Auelkhan, who were imprisoned for countless months provide a harrowing look into the crimes committed by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and are crucial to understanding the experiences at the Xinjiang camps.

(TW // sexual violence and torture)

"The woman took me to the room next to where the other girl had been taken in. They had an electric stick, I didn't know what it was, and it was pushed inside my genital tract, torturing me with an electric shock."

— Tursunay Ziawudun

We must always be critical of the narratives we hear when Western news media has had a history of publishing falsified claims of atrocities to further their imperialistic pursuits. However, suspicion against these Western narratives does not mean discounting the experiences of those oppressed and exonerating the actions of foreign regimes. Instead, critiquing the Western narrative is to identify how the U.S government has utilized the Uyghur camps for their own gains, like the justification of a Cold War and Sinophobic rhetoric. When most Americans hear “China” and words like “virus” and “evil” immediately enter their heads, it’s clear that this was an intended reaction coerced by our government. In fact, the vernacular choices made by government officials rarely make any distinction between the Chinese people and the Chinese government. This is especially problematic when the U.S. has a population of 18.6 million people who identify as Chinese, alongside an even bigger population of Americans that can’t differentiate between various Asian ethnicities. 

When activist Shaun King posted a statement on Instagram condemning the anti-Asian attacks, one of the top comments was a statement calling to “end the Uyghur genocide.” Without explicitly stating it, these comments try to link all Asians with the Chinese government, and attempt to rationalize the Asian hate crimes in doing so. Instead of explicitly calling out the actions of the CCP, or leaders like Xi Jinping, government officials and news reporters often resort to phrases such as “the Chinese” or the vague label of “China.”

If we take a look at recent history, Asian Americans are now facing an eerily similar wave of hate crimes inspired by overseas policies. We saw this during the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, when it was drilled into the American conscience that the people we were fighting were all terrorists or dictators. This had a clear consequence in our domestic culture, when Muslim hate crimes spiked and Islam became synonymous with terrorism—despite the fact that most domestic terrorists were white Americans. It was also wartime politics that “justified” the Japanese internment camps during World War II, and the state-sanctioned torture at Guantanamo under Bush and Obama. With China now threatening American supremacy and the start of a potential Cold War, I fear the Asian diaspora are next on the chopping block. When America goes to war, BIPOC communities get hurt. Now, we’re hearing our politicians regurgitate the decades-old “Yellow Peril, Red Menace'' narratives in which international students are viewed as “CCP Spies,” Chinese technology are all deemed spyware, and Asians are seen as responsible for the virus.

Many Americans have lost so much as a result of COVID-19, from losing family, jobs, and financial stability. With greater economic instability, crimes and conflicts will inevitably increase. However, we can’t allow the U.S government to throw us in the crossfire of an anti-China campaign and scapegoat Asians to distract from their mismanagement of the virus. It has been said that an idea is often the most dangerous virus. When these ideas transpire as hateful and racist messages meant to serve a higher political goal, we must reevaluate and be critical of the rhetoric spread by our government.

While the push-back against this wave of Asian hate crimes has been much needed, I also question its efficacy because movements and hashtags like #StopAsianHate have mainly identified Asian hate crime as an act propagated by racist individuals. Although true to a certain extent, it fails to hold the institutional powers responsible in their roles for channeling hatred towards Asians. This massive increase in Asian hate crimes has indisputable political origins, and was egged on by our politicians and news media. Even now, these attacks are being used as an excuse by Bill De Blasio to increase surveillance and policing in low-income communities. But more surveillance or police officers aren’t going to stop these attacks, nor are they what the Asian American community wants. And by the looks of the recent police statements empathizing with the Atlanta shooter that killed 8 victims, 6 of which were Asian women, law enforcement isn’t whom Asian Americans should turn to. Instead, we must turn to ourselves and our allies in order to demand legal protections and concrete political change beyond empty platitudes.

There are already several AAPI organizations pushing for such political action like the NAPAWF, Red Canary Song, and the MinKwon center. These groups focus on uplifting Asian voices in political circles alongside intersectional advocacy like promoting gender equality, defending sex workers, and securing immigrant protections. What these grassroots organizations reveal is that to counter this wave of Asian hate and government agitation, we must build political power among AAPI communities that can provide mutual aid and pressure institutions to hear our demands. Because until the official narratives and rhetoric change, we’re only retracing an endless cycle of hate in the name of politics. 

What are your thoughts on American narratives surrounding China? How can our politicians call out the injustice in Xinjiang without demonizing Chinese people in the process? Let me know in the comments below, and thank you for reading!

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To further decolonize our minds:

PSL | Massacre in Atlanta — Racist, Sexist Terrorism and the Capitalist System

Five Thirty Eight  |The U.S. Has A Long-Standing History Of Vilifying Minority Groups During Times Of Crisis 

Bloomberg |  Asian-American Groups Grapple With Police Response to Violence

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Six of the victims who died were Asian American women. Know their names. Learn how to pronounce their names properly. It’s been too damn long that we have allowed white America to butcher the ethnic names our parents have given us, serving as the last eternal remnant of the country they have left. Here is the Asian American Journalists Association pronunciation guide.

The perpetrator was a 21-year-old man. I’m not going to name him or include his photo, simply because the media has done way too much to humanize him. We don’t need to see his face, he is a heinous murderer.  

He went to not one, not two, but three different Asian-owned massage parlors to carry out the mass shooting. Apparently, this still isn’t enough to declare the attack a hate crime, and we all know why: he is afforded the white privilege of being infantilized by the authorities.

“These locations, he sees them as an outlet for him—something that he shouldn’t be doing, an issue with porn—and that he was attempting to take out that temptation. He was pretty much fed up and at the end of his rope. Yesterday was a really bad day for him, and this is what he did.”

— Jay Baker, Cherokee County Sheriff's Office Captain

It’s no surprise that Baker is empathizing with the perpetrator. He is the same man who promoted T-shirts with the slogan “COVID-19 Imported Virus From CHY-NA.” We’re seriously letting someone who is fueling Sinophobia decide whether or not the shootings are anti-Asian. That’s America for you!

I feel sick to my stomach, seeing his name and picture constantly popping up on every little piece of news coverage. Since his arrest, the media has been informing us every tiny detail about his past, but absolutely nothing about the victims—not even their names. I fear that even in their death, white America will not be spelling and pronouncing their names correctly. 

And so far I’ve been proven right, because when the names of the remaining four victims were released by the Medical Examiner's Office, they replaced the second character of the Asian American women’s given name to a mere initial. Korean and Chinese names are said with all three characters; to reduce the second character of our given name to an initial is dehumanizing. This is what I mean, every second that passes just reaffirms my hopelessness.

Without fail, the white murderer blamed his sex addiction for going to Asian-owned massage parlors to kill Asian women. To think that he is only a year older than I am, slaughtering Asian women my mom’s age—it really puts everything into perspective. My heart breaks for the victims’ loved ones, but especially their children. It is almost an unspoken truth that our immigrant Asian moms live for us. They move across the world, enduring all kinds of discrimination, existing as perpetual foreigners, all in hopes that we will rise up to live the life they dreamed of. Their invisibility that was once a shield has fired back on them, as hatred has taken on the form of mindlessly executing the most atrocious thoughts. Their death is unbearable, because for so long, they have done the best they could to not take up even the most minuscule of space, only to be brutally shot by a man who was “having a bad day.”  

In this case, we have to talk about the intersectionality of race, gender, sexuality, sex work, and socioeconomic status. Starting with the racialization of Asian women, it’s no secret that they have long been the victim of hypersexualization by white men. The first federal law to restrict immigration was the Page Act of 1875, prohibiting “any subject of China, Japan or any Oriental country…the importation of women for the purposes of prostitution.” It prohibited East Asian women, but especially Chinese women, from entering the United States, under the assumption that they were all prostitutes. 

It is the Orientalist gaze on Asia and the white sexual imperialism, through rape and war, that have allowed white men to feel so entitled to possess Asian women. We have to pivot back to the U.S.’s military-industrial complex in Asia that conditioned American soldiers to colonize Asian women’s bodies through prostitution. The result is the fetishization and hypersexualization of Asian and Asian American women, fostering the “white man’s fantasy” that stereotypes them as excessively submissive and sexually compliant. In the white savior’s mind, we are the epitome of exotic hyper-femininity and our only mission in life is to satisfy them.

Yet, when we speak up about hypersexualization, we are condemned and told that we are lucky to be fetishized. We are gaslighted to the extent that we doubt our own experiences. Our voices are undermined, because simply put, we live in a white supremacist patriarchy. White women in particular internalize this and see us as the ultimate enemy, allowing racial capitalism, misogyny, and white supremacy to prevail. 

“It doesn’t matter what you do, ladies. Every guy’s gonna leave you for an Asian woman. They’re smarter, they laugh like this *covers her mouth* cause they know men hate when women speak. And how do they bring it on home for the win? Oh, the smallest vaginas in the game!” 

— Amy Schumer, Self-Proclaimed “Feminist”
Watch the Comedy Central episode here

It is this intersection of being Asian and a woman that forces us into this distinct romantic and sexual narrative, constantly wondering if we are being overly cautious when interacting with men. No one listens to our concerns about yellow fever, because it is “a good problem to have.” We are told it is flattering to be every man’s “type,” but what people don't realize is that there is a thin line between having a “type” and fetishizing us. We are dehumanized, perceived as solely eroticized bodies available for sex without resistance. According to the National Network to End Domestic Violence, “41 to 61 percent of Asian women report experiencing physical and/or sexual violence by an intimate partner during their lifetime. This is significantly higher than any other ethnic group.” 

To my Asian women readers: I’m here to tell you that your experiences are valid, because as the murder of Soon-Chung Park, Hyun-Jung Kim, Sun-Cha Kim, Yong-Ae Yue, Xiaojie Tan, and Daoyou Feng have revealed, the fetishization of Asian women is very much flourishing.  

“There’s this assumption that all these massage parlor workers are sex workers. That may or may not be the case. The majority of massage parlors are licensed businesses that also provide professional, non-sexual massages. There’s this assumption of sexuality and fetishization of Asian women’s bodies that is unique to this kind of crime. He’s absolutely taking no responsibility and putting all of that on the workers themselves and it also distracts from the race issue.”

— Esther Kao, Organizer with Red Canary Song

It matters that the perpetrator chose to go to massage parlors. Asian American women who work in the service industry don’t fit in the Crazy Rich Asians narrative, and their experiences are marginalized in the Asian American discourse. To be economically vulnerable and working a low-wage job during the pandemic, these Asian American women are subjected to commodification. They are perceived as sex workers, disposable objects existing exclusively for male pleasure. When we criminalize sex work in the Asian American community, we disproportionately target women migrants and poor women who often fall victim to sexual violence. 

This brings up another point, what if the Asian American women were sex workers? Why does that matter? Sex workers are still human. This shouldn’t be a part of the discussion. What women do or don’t do with their bodies isn’t anyone’s business but their own. The fact is, the 21-year-old white supremacist murdered Soon-Chung Park, Hyun-Jung Kim, Sun-Cha Kim, Yong-Ae Yue, Delaina Ashley Yaun, Paul Andre Michels, Xiaojie Tan, and Daoyou Feng in cold blood. That in itself should be enough to charge him with committing an anti-Asian hate crime. 

All of this has been very overwhelming, and I’m still grieving. Every news update, every Instagram post, every tweet, I am trying my hardest to not feel too much. But as it turns out, I don’t have control over my emotions, and the tears always come at the most unexpected moments.

“I sometimes avoid reading a news story when the victim is Asian because I don’t want to pay attention to the fact that no one else is paying attention. I don’t want to care that no one else cares because I don’t want to be left stranded in my rage.” 

— Cathy Park Hong
Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning

Since last year, 3,795 anti-Asian hate crime incidents have been reported to Stop AAPI Hate. However, white America has never acknowledged that they were racially motivated. All we got was a phony speech from President Joe Biden, on March 11th, deeming these anti-Asian hate crimes as “un-American.” Yet 4 days later, on March 15, ICE deported a plane full of Vietnamese immigrants from Texas on Monday in the middle of the coronavirus pandemic.

We must not forget that we must hold Biden accountable as well. While Trump explicitly reinforces the “Chinese virus” rhetoric, Biden has also been associating COVID-19 with China as early as his presidential campaign. So, what I’m getting is that being anti-Asian is unequivocally American.

I am furious, and my heart feels so heavy. It hurts so much to see supposedly “progressive” white people not spreading any awareness on what has happened. At the same time, it is not okay to just post without actually reading the news. Posting an infographic with the hashtag #StopAsianHate without having done any research, is perpetuating a cycle of performative activism. This phenomenon is even relevant in our own community. The fact that 88rising posted a yellow square to “raise awareness” is despicable. You would imagine that when their whole brand is based on the Asian identity, they would care more, especially with the amount of clout they have. But instead they are choosing to actively restore the racist color-metaphor that Asian Americans are “yellow” and co-opt the useless black squares from the #BlackLivesMatter movement, which is inherently anti-Black. Since we’re on the topic, it is also not okay to say #AsianLivesMatter. We need to remember this is not the Oppression Olympics. There must be solidarity between Asian Americans and other BIPOC communities, we have to unite together to dismantle white supremacy. 

In order for the Asian American community to heal, America needs to acknowledge that white supremacy is thriving and presenting itself in our everyday lives. This is especially directed towards our white allies who have the privilege to speak up, whose voices aren’t silenced on a daily basis, whose experiences are validated with every syllable that is spoken. Check up on your Asian American friends, but know that your words mean nothing until you have educated yourself on the history of anti-Asian racism and violence in the U.S. Otherwise, you are just draining our energy in an attempt to cure your white guilt. 

If possible, please DONATE to the victims of the mass shooting hate crime: 

Soon-Chung Park, 74

Hyun-Jung Kim, 51 

Sun-Cha Kim, 69 

Yong-Ae Yue, 63 

Delaina Ashley Yaun, 33 

Paul Andre Michels, 54 

Xiaojie Tan, 49 

Daoyou Feng, 44

Elcias Hernandez Ortiz (Survived)

Marcus Lyon (Survived)

Eun-Ja Kang (Survived)

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Fast forward three months. I was boarding yet another plane, this time to fly back to Houston from New York after NYU shut down. I was hyper-conscientious of being not only Chinese, but being Chinese with a face mask. Several hate crimes against Asian Americans had already occurred by that point, and Donald Trump‘s refrain of “China virus“ seemed to ring in my ears every time I saw another report on the news. As violent attacks on Asian Americans increased across the country, President Donald Trump would continue to refer to COVID-19 as “Chinese virus,” “Wuhan virus,” and even “Kung Flu.”

Over the past year, hate crimes against Asian Americans have risen 150% across the United States. That is no coincidence, as many people blame Asian Americans for the COVID-19 pandemic, particularly Chinese Americans and those they mistakenly believe are Chinese Americans. When people in positions of political power repeatedly make the link between China, Chinese people, and this deadly disease, it reinforces the idea that Chinese people are to blame. Despite the rise in hate crimes and consistent backlash against the term, Trump was still calling COVID-19 “China virus” as recently as March 10, in a statement in which he attempted to take credit for the COVID-19 vaccine:

(A quick note: To me, this statement is proof that Donald Trump’s usage of “China virus” is not a simple slip of the tongue or a force of habit. The disease is already referred to as COVID-19 in this statement, and then he goes out of his way to not only bring up China, but attempt to normalize the association between COVID-19 and China. This is intentional.)

To be clear, the words “China virus“ and “Kung Flu” alone did not single-handedly cause these attacks. The politicians who callously throw around these terms did not single-handedly cause these attacks. However, they are part of the political rhetoric that scapegoats Asian Americans, and has made us targets of hate crimes.

How do we know these attacks are racially motivated? 

In March 2020, an Asian man in Manhattan was kicked in the back by a teenager who yelled “F–king Chinese coronavirus,” and told the man to go back to his own country. On the same day, in Midtown, an Asian woman was told “Where is your corona mask, you Asian b—h?” by an attacker who punched her in the face. 

Vicha Ratanapakdee, an 84-year old Thai man, was attacked and killed on January 28 in San Francisco. Before the attack, Ratanapakdee’s daughter was told to “go back to China.”

A 71-year-old from California reported that, during her daily walk, a woman yelled at her “I hate Chinese people, why do they come to this country?”

Helen Oh of Denver was called “infected and disgusting” by two men on the street. 

These are just a few of many incidents in which victims were subject to xenophobic and racist remarks that directly tied them to COVID-19. 

A Cambridge University study found that Donald Trump’s racist comments during his 2016 campaign, such as his comments about Mexican immigrants, led more people to feel justified in their racial hatred. Trump’s words had an “emboldening effect,” whereby “in the presence of prejudiced elite speech…the prejudiced are emboldened to both express and act upon their prejudices.” Thus, it makes sense to assume that the former President’s comments about Chinese Americans would also have the same effect.

Why can’t we call COVID-19 a Chinese virus? After all, it did come from China. 

We actually do not know for certain that COVID-19 originated in China—we only know that it was first discovered there. In fact, scientists are still not certain exactly where the coronavirus came from. Other viruses have traveled across country borders before being discovered—for example, the first reported cases of HIV in humans were in the Democratic Republic of Congo, but the virus is believed to have originated in Cameroon. But regardless of where a disease came from, there is no justification for blaming a single demographic of people. 

How come saying “Spanish Flu” is okay, but “Chinese virus” isn’t? 

The disease known as the Spanish Flu did not actually originate in Spain. Since Spanish news sources were the first to report about it, other countries assumed that the disease had originated there. The Spanish, ironically, believed it came from France and referred to it as the “French Flu”—even in 1918, countries were blaming each other for spreading disease. Since then, scientists have suggested that France, China, Britain, and the United States all could’ve been possible sources of the disease.

As of 2015, the World Health Organization (WHO) has publicly advised against the practice of naming diseases after individuals or places of origin. Though seemingly trivial, this advisory was put into effect to prevent the very sort of racially motivated hate crimes that we are now witnessing. 

“We’ve seen certain disease names provoke a backlash against members of particular religious or ethnic communities,” says Dr. Keiji Fukuda, the Assistant Director General for Health Security at WHO at the time. 

Now, the WHO recommends naming diseases after pathogens, or with descriptive terms, such as its symptoms and manifestations, in order to avoid stigmatization.

How is it different from saying “Chinese food?” 

In March 2020, Chanel Rion of the right-wing One America News (OAN) was ridiculed on social media after trying to equivocate the term “Chinese virus” with “Chinese food” at a White House briefing. Trump had previously justified his use of the term “Chinese virus” by saying that “it comes from China,” in response to those who pointed out the racism of the phrase. Rion posed a softball question by asking if he believed the term “Chinese food” was racist, because “it is food that originated from China,” leading Trump to respond, “it’s not racist at all.” 

The most straightforward explanation for why this equivalence is ridiculous is that a virus is something with which most people have a negative association, while food is not. Associating a race of people with a deadly disease that has caused pain and suffering worldwide is different from associating them with the food they produce. Yes, both may be  linked to China, but “Chinese food” is an integral part of Chinese culture that was intentionally created by Chinese people, while COVID-19 is none of those things. The virus is not “Chinese”—it was only first discovered in China. Calling it Chinese has undertones of blame. There’s nothing to blame anybody for when it comes to food and culture.

What can I do to help?

Because of the harm that a bolstered police force can have on Asian Americans and other BIPOC communities, increased policing is not an ideal solution. 

Instead, I suggest the following alternative approaches, all of which are community-based rather than police-based:

• Support local Chinatowns and Chinese restaurants 

• Volunteer in a foot patrol to protect elderly Asian citizens by accompanying them to places. Several counties in California are currently doing these.

• Donate to organizations that directly help Asian communities

• Check in with your Asian American friends and offer them emotional and moral support

• Speak out whenever you witness incidences of xenophobia or xenophobic rhetoric 

• Finally, here is an active list of Asian American community resources to help in different regions of the US

In light of the recent incident in Atlanta:

• Support Red Canary Song, a grassroots organization that supports Asians in the sex work industry

• Donate to NAPAWF, an organization that supports AAPI women and girls

• Know the names and stories of the victims. These are real people with real lives whose families are now experiencing one of the worst things that a person can experience. 

  Soon-Chung Park, 74

  Hyun-Jung Kim, 51 

  Sun-Cha Kim, 69 

  Yong-Ae Yue, 63 

  Delaina Ashley Yaun, 33 

  Paul Andre Michels, 54 

  Xiaojie Tan, 49 

  Daoyou Feng, 44

  Elcias Hernandez Ortiz (Survived)

  Marcus Lyon (Survived)

  Eun-Ja Kang (Survived)

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But in light of the recent recurring hate crimes against Asian Americans, I can’t help but worry for him. What if he’s outside when the wrong person comes by and screams at him to “Go back to China!” or even worse, beats him? It’s incredibly appalling and heartbreaking to think that our loved ones could be targeted, and found on the news the following day. Yet the reality is that there has been a 150% increase in the number of anti-Asian hate crimes, with 122 incidents occurring in 16 of the country’s most populated cities in 2020. 

On Tuesday, February 16th, 2021, a 30-year-old Korean woman was pepper-sprayed from a sedan while walking in SoHo, Manhattan. Since no words were exchanged, the NYPD could not directly conclude that she was racially targeted. Nonetheless, the offenders didn’t face any charges—further adding fuel to the cycle of anti-Asian hate crimes that we see now.

The victim expressed her thoughts on the situation to the NY Daily News. 

“I tried to downplay it… I wasn’t even going to report it. But I think I am more traumatized than I thought. It’s hard for me to walk down Houston Street… and whenever I’m on the subway, I’m really tense, and [have] a panic attack.” 

— Yaeji Kim 

What stands out to me about this particular occurrence is that Kim was afraid to speak out about the violence committed against her. However, as an Asian American woman myself, I wouldn’t have had the courage to do so either. In mid-February 2020, when news of COVID-19 started spreading like wildfire, my fellow peers at school would make comments like, “We’re all going to die because some dumbass in Wuhan had to go and eat a bat. No surprise, Chinese people eat dogs.” At the time, I told myself that these comments were funny because I wanted to fit in; I was afraid I would be seen as “the one who couldn’t take a joke.” The truth is, the racism Asian Americans face is significantly downplayed. Because of the model minority myth, racist acts like these are not taken as seriously. As a result, we often feel that we are left with no choice but to shield ourselves by staying invisible, in hope that it will stop us from being attacked. While anti-Asian sentiment and xenophobia have always been a persistent issue in America, the pandemic has allowed it to unravel and intensify on a much larger scale.

On the same day, another 71-year-old woman was punched in the face on the train, and since, she has vowed to not take the subway anymore. 

I recall reading about these incidents on my Instagram feed from NextShark’s page that evening. I felt very anxious. After sharing my thoughts and frustrations over the dinner table, I kept pondering if we would ever be able to go outside again, without the fear of being insulted verbally or feeling constantly on edge. Fast forward a few days, my parents had to go to Chinatown to settle a tax issue. I vividly remember getting an uneasy feeling in my stomach and wishing that they could delay going as much as possible. While I was in my Zoom meeting for English class, my mind kept wandering…What if something were to happen on the train? What if they get pepper-sprayed as well? Would any bystanders step in or would they simply ignore my parents being assaulted? I started to replay all the hate crimes that I read about in the last month, like the Chinese man that was stabbed in Chinatown with a butcher knife. I even went on Find My iPhone to check their location. I kept looking out my window to see if my grandpa had returned from his dentist appointment. I find myself constantly reminding my family members to refrain from going outdoors when it’s not a dire emergency or for necessities. However, what’s most distressing is succumbing to the realization that I won’t be able to protect them 100% of the time—the upsurge in anti-Asian hate crimes has practically become a daily occurrence. 

All of this is to say that it’s okay for us to be scared, but we have to start taking action. It’s more critical now than ever that we refuse to be silenced. For instance, a multiracial coalition of grassroots groups in the San Francisco Bay Area has organized solidarity rallies and mutual aid campaigns to spotlight the many ruthless assaults. By bringing back their Chinatown Ambassador Program, people can volunteer to ensure senior safety by accompanying them on walks and helping them run errands. Furthermore, people have created GoFundMe fundraisers for victims and advocacy groups like Stop AAPI Hate and Asian Health Services. We must actively seek out these services and organizations, uniting together to condemn these assaults and protect our community. 

House Resolution 908 

I’m going to be honest: I never really care much about politics since I’m only 16 and don’t have the right to vote yet. But, everything changed when I found out that my representative, Congresswoman Grace Meng, introduced House Resolution 908 to address the rise in anti-Asian hate due to COVID-19. She has taught me that it is not okay to remain silent in the face of racism.

Her active role in implementing reforms to denounce Asian hate is truly admirable. It is extremely empowering to see that she is channeling so much energy into helping our community. Unfortunately, with the changes she has advocated for on a federal level, she has faced numerous racist remarks. 

She shared a video back in September 2020 of all the voicemails she received after introducing the resolution. In the recording, people were cursing and calling her a “fat slob,” “Chinese virus,” and “Kung Flu.” This is the same rhetoric Trump has used. As I was watching the video, I felt infuriated yet devastated. How could people be so vile and insensitive? I resent those people for spewing the very hate we’re fighting against. It’s as if they have no remorse at all.

Despite this, she has also positively influenced many to take action, like President Joe Biden. In late January 2021, he signed a memorandum with the mission to guide the Department of Justice on effectively compiling data and assisting with the reporting of anti-Asian hate crimes. 

“Today, I’m directing federal agencies to combat resurgence of xenophobia, particularly against Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders, that we’ve seen skyrocket during this pandemic. This is unacceptable and it’s un-American.” 

— President Joe Biden 

Following this address to the public, representatives in Ohio, Utah, and New Jersey have also expressed their agreement through sponsorship or introduction of legislation. Within New York City Public Schools, education through anti-hate lessons is being requested in grades ranging from elementary to high school. There have been events for awareness, town halls, and bystander intervention training held throughout the boroughs of Manhattan, Queens, and Brooklyn. 

With this progress, we must not forget the 164 Members of Congress (all Republicans) who voted against the resolution, actively pardoning racism and discrimination. When we condone this behavior, we are uplifting white supremacy.

These individuals are exactly the reason why Asian Americans must vote. Together, we can leverage as the deciding factor in electing the right people to office. I will definitely take this into consideration when I’m able to vote in the next two years. For now, I’ll continue to keep up with what is happening in politics, because it is our loved ones whose lives are at stake.

What are your thoughts on the recent anti-Asian hate crimes? How do you feel about the way Congress is addressing the issue? I would love to hear from all of you! Leave any question(s) or comments you have below! Thank you!

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To further decolonize our minds:

PBS | How to Address the Surge of Anti-Asian Hate Crimes (Video)

NBC News | 150 Members of Congress Demand Justice Department Action Against Anti-Asian, COVID-19 Racism

National Geographic | America’s Long History of Scapegoating Its Asian Citizens

Elle | Ignoring the History of Anti-Asian Racism Is Another Form of Violence

Time | Hate Crimes Against Asian Americans Are on the Rise. Many Say More Policing Isn't the Answer

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If you liked what you read, be sure to subscribe above and follow us on Twitter and Instagram @invisibleasians to stay updated on Politically Invisible Asians!

“Scared of pandemics, but hatred's stronger than any virus is

Think I'm dealing with racism worse 'cuz of the outbreak?

No. We've been dealing with racism since birth without breaks

I still have faith in humankind, but what do I know?

Hatred's the most contagious, and these days it's going viral”

— Viral by Year of the Ox

February 16, 2020: I was on my way to a rock concert in Brooklyn, all by myself. Though this was a month before the nationwide lockdown, I masked up for my own safety. I thought nothing of it, and went on with my evening. I rode the subway by myself for the first time. It was one of the best nights of my life.

Less than a week later, an Asian woman in NYC also wearing a face mask was called a "diseased b****" and assaulted in the middle of a subway station. Had I chosen a different concert date...that could have easily been me.

February 2021: One year later. A Brooklyn man was charged with a hate crime for stabbing a 36-year old Asian American man in the back. We had to have walked the same streets. Rode the same trains. I remained quarantined at home when this happened, but the thought still haunts me. That could have easily been me.

Since the start of the coronavirus pandemic and nation-wide quarantine, there has been an alarming upsurge in hate crimes against East and Southeast Asians in the U.S. Horrifying headlines and videos of Asian elders and youth alike being violently pushed to the ground, slashed in the face, and worst of all—killed in broad daylight—have once again made their way through the news and social media in overwhelming numbers.

Many are left wondering, where did we as a nation go wrong? At the same time, too many are unaware that this type of racially charged violence is nothing new to the U.S. For a while, it was dormant. It is the old skin of the nation, scratched at again by the COVID-19 pandemic; and so, the true nature of this country has reared its ugly head once more.

To understand how this is not a newly formed violence, we must rewind back to the root of anti-Chinese sentiment first. Sinophobia is generally defined as the “fear or dislike of China, its people, or its culture.” The centuries-old concept of “othering” China has introduced itself differently throughout the world. However, the presence of Sinophobia in the U.S. alone has a particular timeline of its own—and a very horrific one at that.

One of the most well-known instances of anti-Chinese policy in the U.S. was the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, in which the immigration of all Chinese laborers was prohibited at the federal level by President Chester A. Arthur. Moreover, Chinese workers that were still present in the states were disenfranchised and treated like second-class citizens. Looking back, historians attribute this prejudice to a type of fear, often referred to as the “Yellow Peril.” Americans feared that Chinese immigrants would eventually displace them in the workforce since they were willing to work the same jobs for lower wages and longer hours. Thus, Chinese immigrants and, eventually, East and Southeast Asian immigrants as a collective group were deemed threats to the West. Widespread social propaganda would soon follow, depicting these groups as devious, rat-like people “infesting” the country.

One particularly violent instance of Sinophobia in the U.S. stands out among most, though: the 1900 Honolulu Chinatown Fire. When the bubonic plague hit Honolulu’s densely populated Chinatown in December 1899, even more mass hysteria followed. It began with a slow spread in Asia in the 1870s, and eventually reached commercial and port cities in southern China. It is believed that steamship freighters that departed from Chinese ports for Honolulu could have carried infected rats and fleas, thus leading to the emergence of the bubonic plague in Honolulu's Chinatown.

In short, Hawai’i’s Board of Health’s decision essentially led to the destruction of the entire Chinatown, deeming it a “hotbed for the plague.” They imposed a strict quarantine on the inhabitants of this area, and ordered the National Guard to hold the residents at gunpoint to enforce it. Keep in mind that Honolulu’s Chinatown at the time was almost completely home to non-white individuals: between 6,000 and 10,000 Chinese, Japanese, and Kanakas (native Hawaiians) lived and work there.

Starting on New Year’s Eve, the Board of Health began controlled burnings of individual blocks in the Chinatown. When this order was executed on January 20th, however, one burning expanded as a result of strong winds that day, blazing completely out of control and demolishing approximately one-fifth of Honolulu’s buildings. But worst of all: when the residents attempted to evacuate the areas set ablaze, white guards, police officers, and armed citizens forced them back into the inferno.

CONTENT WARNING: Brief mention of sexual abuse ahead. Skip the following paragraph completely if this is a concern for you.

Eight thousand residents, mostly the aforementioned Chinese, Japanese, and Kanaka ethnic groups, were left homeless and forced into detention camps where they would be stripped naked and physically inspected in front of everyone. White guards stood by and watched these individuals horrifically dehumanized in front of their friends and families.

In stark contrast, four white residents also lost their homes in the fires, but those suspected of having the plague were housed in hotels instead of “disinfection” camps. Even after the disaster of January 20th, the Board of Health set another thirty controlled fires in Chinatown.

The violence we see against Asian Americans today is nothing new. It is not reducible to “current events.” This is American history repeating itself. Many turn to shock as their go-to response: How could this happen? How could we let it happen? Why is there so much hatred in this world? But as painful as it is to watch these horrific events unfold, shock goes hand-in-hand with ignorance. The longer you sit in a room with the lights off, the more startling it is to feel the light penetrate your eyes once it’s turned on.  Sinophobia lives—no, it thrives—in darkness. As shown throughout American history, hatred is so terrifyingly easy to muffle. Screams for justice from racial violence are reduced to white noise when disbelief drowns out rage. I say, let it be known that ignorance and disbelief are as violent as hatred.

I implore you all to be the ones to turn the lights on. Shake the table. We were bred to believe that history was recorded to prevent us from making the same mistakes as our predecessors, and that’s exactly why most of us haven’t learned about what happened in Honolulu in 1900.

To willingly turn a blind eye to the violence is to push the victims of the fire back into the inferno. Sinophobia, like all other forms of racial prejudice, are relentless flames that America has continuously refused to smother.

How do you feel knowing what you know now about the history of anti-Chinese and anti-Asian sentiment in America? Have you participated in any actions in response to the surge in anti-East and Southeast Asian hate crimes? Are there any relevant organizations or initiatives that we should be supporting right now? Leave a comment below. Thank you!

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To further decolonize our minds:

The New Yorker | The Muddled History of Anti-Asian Violence by Hua Hsu

BBC | Sinophobia: How a Virus Reveals the Many Ways China Is Feared

The Daily Show With Trevor Noah | Hate Crimes Against Asian Americans Continue to Rise (Video)

TEDx Talks | Killed By Hate - How Hate Crimes Attack Identities (Video)

NBC | Activists Denounce Increase In Hate Crimes Against Asian Americans (Video)

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