A few months ago, I went to an Asian American social work event at NYU that had a mixture of AA students and AA social workers on the panel. One student described her typical persona in class: quiet and diligent. She attempted to take ownership of her silence, claiming that it was part of her identity and culture to be silent. Therefore, she didn't speak up. "And that's okay because it's who I am," she said. One of the AA social workers, older and more experienced, rebutted with a playful but still passive response, "But you've gotta speak up!"
It reminded me of all the dozens of times someone says an inappropriate joke and I politely say, "you can't say that!" and laugh.
That panel interaction was a good example of two things Asians do well: 1) be content with their self-justified behavior and 2) passively proclaim injustice.
It is tempting, or rather, too easy, for me to ignore the news of the Sterling and Castile shootings, and attack on the police officers in Dallas.
By no means do I have enough racial, historical, or political knowledge to attest to any kind of accuracy in my words, but I do have personal thoughts that may or may not add anything to the conversation. Perhaps, I want to emphasize the complexity of these frustrating and tragic events, and spawn ideas on ways we might want to reframe our role as Asian Americans in this narrative.
For the past year, I have been choosing to turn a blind eye to the news. The Black Lives Matter movement, police brutality, mass shootings, "terrorism," or even the presidential race. Heavy content that's better to shake off by averting my eyes and sighing, claiming numbness. As an Asian person, it's easier to remain "neutral." I had opinions that I didn't want to confront. Even with the Peter Liang case, I felt complicated feelings that I chose not to face.
I want to fight for the marginalized in this country. It's the sole purpose of my profession. But is it okay for me to justify my silence by stating that it's simply just me to be quiet? That I fight in other ways? Or is it okay that I just make my jovial side comments and move on?
What I'm learning from all of this is, once again, selfish for my race. Instead of focusing on the issue of black inequality, I think of my race. Of Asian American inequality. It's much more complicated than simply POC vs. white, which is how I like to think when I want to make myself feel better.
I make fun of my white colleagues who whine about their struggle with the white man's burden, which ironically makes the black experience all about white people again. But I suppose I'm not too far from them when I think about Asian Americans in the fight for black rights.
I know for a fact that I don't want to undermine what Asian Americans go through-- in fact, I'm fucking sick of it. And sometimes I hate white people for it, too. But I also have to recognize the level of the playing field for POC. As an Asian American, I have privileges that other POC don't have. To get real meta, for example, I'm privileged to stay silent about some of these structurally racist narratives towards predominantly black people, like what I'm writing about now. But, what is our duty? I'm reminded of the CAAAV organization, and the mixed (but mostly appalled) feelings I had about their involvement in the Liang-Gurley case. Today, I feel like I understand where they're coming from a bit better, but only because of my acknowledgment that Asian is not equal to Black.
Black Lives Matter is ultimately about black people, as it should be. And it's important because the black experience in the U.S. is intentionally unjust. It was systemically created to be this way. Let's agree to validate that.
After learning this morning of the Dallas shooting on the police, the air of New York felt like it was at a standstill. I felt hyper aware of everyone's color and posture and behavior. I sat outside with Cliff during lunch, and explained the phenomenon I've been noticing of friends-of-friends posts on my Facebook newsfeed, which is a lot of white people suddenly taking ownership of their role in these perpetual, white-on-black injustices. They call it "White Responsibility." So instead of feeling guilty about their privilege, they claim racism and promise to "do something" about it.
I think many people might have found this a courageous and possibly progressive thing to do, but I felt differently. Cynically, I wondered why now they decide to take ownership, and so publicly on Facebook. What other motives did they have in declaring such things in such manners? I do understand that the response is actually what academia has partially hoped for white people to do, but it just felt so ingenuine. Although, I also understand that there's really nothing else that can happen. I suppose that it's the next best thing after white people overturning their own neoliberal, white supremacist government.
This seemingly White vs. Black settlement might make Asian Americans believe they should remove themselves from the conversation, but perhaps, like the "White Responsibility" folks, we're meant to acknowledge our place in this fight and figure out what we can do about it.
Well, except that we have the added responsibility of figuring out our own issues with racism and discrimination. That's for another day.
