An Asian-American Perspective
An Asian-American Perspective
This blog was originally posted in 2020. Andrew has come a LONG way. Next week, on May 12th and 13th 2023, he is hosting an Asian/Black Music, Arts and Culture Festival in Atlanta titled ‘Rush Hour.’ We have a team performing on the 12th.
I remember, very specifically, a conversation a friend and I had my freshman year in college. We shared a similar Asian-American experience - we grew up middle class in the suburbs, we were popular among white people, we were typically the only asian people in our crews, and we were leaders. I remember so vividly, parked outside of our dorm hall, connecting over the fact that neither of us liked asian people. In that moment, our conversation was our response to watching a group of Korean girls cross the crosswalk in front of us, arms linked, giggling. We ripped them apart. We were racist against our own race. Our gripe against asians was that they seldom engaged with mainstream white culture. We criticized asians for always sticking together and never assimilating into whiteness like we did. I can’t speak for my friend, but in my eyes, I considered myself better than other asians because I was accepted by white people. I made it onto the team and others didn’t. In my mind then, rejecting my asian-ness and assimilating into whiteness was a noble and good thing, as if I had earned my way into some higher level of society where most other minorities weren’t allowed . I felt like I belonged. I had made it to the inside.
I look back on this moment I had with my friend in college and see that it indicated a deep and important dynamic that minorities have dealt with their whole lives. And only in my 27th year of life have I begun to face and unpack the ways that I have been affected, and how I want to respond. And now, we’ve found ourselves in an unprecedented time in history. People are starting to listen. When it has come to the race conversation, I’ve been slower than a lot of the people around me to come to conclusions, and I have not yet felt it timely or appropriate to take my opinions to the internet arena. I have felt incredibly awkward, because of my Asian American-ness. Essentially, I grew up with white privilege while I was simultaneously oppressed by the same system. I was receiving the benefits of a privileged system while also feeling like I was never really a part of it, dignified by it, nor respected by it. This realization, exacerbated by the nation’s current social climate, has been life altering to my core and has brought so many things that have been a part of my life into question. I am looking back on times that I felt so strange, out of place, and out of touch in white spaces… and I’m realizing that I wasn’t crazy for feeling those things. That I wasn’t wrong for feeling those things. White culture, in my experience, seldom yelled… but always whispered to me, “get like us, or get out.” I have carried such a shame about myself for so long because I thought that there was something innately wrong with me because I could never fully identify with the spaces I occupied at a cultural level, both white and asian. Simply, I wasn’t white so I couldn’t fully be embraced by whites, and I alienated myself from Asian-American cultures because I learned to view it as less-than, which hurts me so much to even type. The reality is, I was living in two different worlds, culturally, while 99% of the people around me were living in one. This, over a lifetime, has had immense consequences on my sense of identity, belonging, and nationality… and I know I’m not alone in this. I have had a feeling during this time that one of the big assignments for me over the course of the next chapter of my life will involve understanding these dynamics, speaking out for others who may have had this same experience, and reconciling my heritage, which I have been running from for 27 years.
And so here we all are, finding ourselves becoming more and more aware as a society of racism and racial injustice. And during this time, where sensitivity is at an all time high and our nation continues to polarize, deciding how to move forward can feel intimidating and overwhelming. I have felt that my course, personally, has been to listen. To try to understand a broad scope. To be slow to speak. To learn as much as I possibly can from many differing perspectives, especially the ones that are challenging to me. I have had issues with the language that claims that “silence is violence,” and I think that some of the white voices that were quick to speak could have benefitted from some time to understand and reflect on what it is they were actually saying. Remember, I’m asian. The resting state of an average Asian American is passive and submissive. We have, in many ways, been dominated by the all-powerful white voice and way of thinking. White culture’s resting state, in my experience, has often been presumptuous and quick to speak, and far too quick to offer solutions before trying to understand how it might affect someone different than them. From my point of view, white people have always felt the need to be the heroes in whatever space they occupy, they presume that their opinions are necessary and should be prioritized, and I see that m.o. being fleshed out in this race conversation as well. White people have never been good at listening before they attempt to offer solutions. And so suddenly, virtually overnight, white people all across America started to care about racial justice and fighting oppression, feeling the need to raise their voices loud and clear, while the majority of them had not gone so far as to dip a pinky toe into the justice conversation at any previous moment in their lives. If you’re reading this and you’re white, the following may push a button, but please remember that I do not share the same perspective as you. I am a minority, and as a minority, you grow up feeling like things only truly matter when the white people around you decided that it mattered, and I am grieved that this power dynamic only seems to repeat itself this time. It feels like the things that minorities like myself had been fighting, whether externally or internally, our whole lives are finally given some dignity… but only because white people decided that it was time. This reveals, still, where all the power rests.
I suppose what I’m suggesting is that you begin to listen. Listening is not an American pastime. It’s not built into how we interact with each other. Listening gets in the way of an American’s agenda, and it opens up the possibility that you might be wrong. Listening also opens up the possibility for you to hear that you participated in the problem. And if there is anything that is Un-American, it’s letting someone who isn’t like you offer you a different perspective. White people, you must see that the majority of you have always been in a position of power, and when you hold all the power, listening becomes a chore, an inconvenient thing you have to do so that you can continue on with your lives. But I implore you. Listen before you speak. Listen before you post. Maybe don’t speak. Maybe don’t post. Release yourself from the pressure to be the hero. You cannot be. Sit with people. I see all these posts from my white friends on social media offering solutions and opinions and wonder what percentage of them have had any sort of real, open and honest conversation with a minority friend about their experience. And then I think about most of the white people I know and see that they don’t actually know how to engage with other cultures, and a lot of that is due to the fact that Americans have seldom truly listened to anyone other than themselves. Listening is a posture that is yet to be learned.
I’ve grown up with white people. I have had hundreds of white friends. I’ve lived with mostly white people. I’ve worked at churches with white people. Most of my best friends are white. I’ve dated mostly white people. And of all these people, do you know how many of them have ever thought to stop and ask me, intentionally, about my experience being Asian American? I can count them on one hand. I’ve had white people say racist things right to my face while my other white friends stood there silently, and then we’d all go on pretending like nothing ever happened. I confronted someone this last week about a comment he made to me that I felt to be racist. He responded with, “I know I know” and a quick apology. I felt like I was inconveniencing him by even bringing it up. No follow up questions. No conversation. I just felt like he was trying to get out of that position as quickly as possible. Our phone conversation lasted two minutes and eleven seconds. I only remember that because of how weird I felt when I hung up. I want you to hear that I’m not blaming these people. I’m blaming the culture. In a way, we are all victims of a larger system that is in place. There have been so many times where I wonder if it’s even worth the trouble of having the conversation. I feel like I could never truly understand what it’s like to be white and I feel like a white person will never be able to understand what it’s like to not hold the power. But in this time, I have found some hope.
A couple weeks ago, my friend asked me about my experience being Asian American. Simply and humbly. He didn’t bow down before me and repent for the entire history of white people, he didn’t slice his hand open and offer me a blood oath to never think a racist thought again. It wasn’t a big thing, it wasn’t an event, and he never posted about it on instagram afterwards. In essence, it wasn’t about him. He just asked me, “what’s it like to be you right now?” And he gave me 10 minutes to talk, without interruptions, without justifications, without defenses … he just let me talk. And right then and there in that parking lot of the Value Village, I experienced healing.
So if you’re still with me, and you’re white, and you’re wondering, what do I do with this? I humbly propose to you that you stop assuming that everyone around you has had the same experience as you, especially the minorities. Even if they go to your school, even if they are on the ‘inside’ of your community, even if they share the same faith, even if they appear happy to be the token, even if race doesn’t seem like a big deal to them. I would almost certainly say to you that (1) race is absolutely a big deal to them and they’re afraid to tell you for fear of being silenced yet again and (2) they are dying to be heard. It’s the nature of the system - us minorities have been taught to be quiet, to not be too different. We’ve been told to minimize our experiences, to pretend that racism doesn’t exist or doesn’t hurt us, and we’ve come to believe that ultimately no one cares to listen. But you have the power to change this. I have so much hope based on the tiny the things I’ve seen. Those of you who’ve been willing to read this, who’ve encouraged me, and who are have said, “I’m here to learn.” You’re my hope. You’re our hope.
So, what if you began to listen? What if you took the time to let someone different than you tell you what it’s like to be them? What if you forfeited your position of power? And what if for once you let someone else write some of the rules?
It may seem small, but I imagine an entire culture learning, slowly, how to assume a new posture. And this gives me hope for all of us.
