Experiment 3.

Introduction

        Tuesday morning, March 16th, 2020, I was planning on writing a motivational speech for my third experiment. I wanted to encourage people to go out and try the things they’ve never done, to speak to the people they’ve never thought about speaking to, and to do the things they’ve always wanted to. My goal was for my audience to tune out the noise of society that constantly tells them what to do and who to be.

        Tuesday night, March 16th, 2020, a sexually aggravated and racially motivated white man shot nine people and killed eight. The deaths? 7 women, 6 of whom were of Asian descent, and one male.

        For a couple of days, I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. I felt the anger and disappointment I felt last summer when George Floyd and countless others were murdered, but I wasn’t in disbelief. It was all too believable now; nothing is really a surprise. Until last summer, I had built a wall between myself and politics and refused to knock it down. My values, my religion, and my opinions were far too scattered to participate in political conversations and debates, and the people I surrounded myself with were the same. I thought it was normal, and it was, but this summer, I learned that it was too normal. More voices needed to speak up, especially the ones of people in communities where these conversations didn’t exist. To me, minorities’ lives are not a political conversation but a humanitarian one. I don’t know enough about politics to take a firm political stance, but I know enough about life to know that diversifying people’s perspectives is essential towards a more diverse, equitable, and inclusive society.

        My third experiment is still a speech. It is for an Asian American audience with messages applicable to all genders, races, religions, and identities, but I want Asian Americans to pay close attention because I am specifically talking to them. It is time for Asian Americans to speak up and for the rest of America to listen.

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Speech

        Hyun Jung Grant, Suncha Kim, Xiaojie Tan, and Pak Ho. Do any of these names strike a bell? Now how about these: Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Elijah McClain. As you may recognize, the latter four names belong to four black Americans whose lives were cut short in 2020 as a result of racism. What you may not know is that the first four names – Hyun Jung Grant, Suncha Kim, Xiaojie Tan, and Pak Ho – belong to four individuals killed because of the same reason: racism. Their difference? They are Asian American.

        By no means am I trying to equate the experiences of Black Americans and Asian Americans or any minority for that matter. I understand the unique histories and challenges each minority has and continues to face in America, and I acknowledge that some run deeper than the others. Nevertheless, I believe that we are all fighting for a common goal: a common goal of unity, a common goal of acceptance, and a common goal of human rights.

        Last summer, I saw the immense power of unity and allyship during Black Lives Matters protests. Never have I seen so many people, of so many races, identities, religions, and nationalities come together to support the forward movement of Black lives and racial equity. Protests were marched with diversity, informative Instagram stories were uploaded everywhere, and conversations to move our society forwards were constantly happening.

        As Anti-Asian American hate crimes rose, I expected to see a continuation of support from the American society. Yet, I was foolish to expect such a thing. Foolish because Asian Americans have never been given the spotlight, at least not with reality.

        Although Asian Americans are the fastest growing demographic in America, to everyone not Asian, we are often invisible. Stuck between the perpetual foreigner syndrome and a model minority myth, we have always been told to put their heads down, to work hard, and to not create any disruptions. The perpetual foreigner syndrome alienates us in a country that is just as much ours as it is anyone else’s, and the model minority myth is a tool for our white society to discredit our successes and create a racial divide between Asian Americans and other minorities, specifically blacks. These stereotypes have caused way too many Asian Americans to stay quiet. We often feel that we should just be thankful. Thankful for the opportunities this country has given us, and thankful for being given a seat at the table. There is a misbelief that we must stay quiet to keep our seat at the table; that we must change and assimilate to whiteness in order to be seen and accepted as American. But my people, it is time to speak up.

        We have been changing our names, hiding our homemade lunches, and ignoring our heritage, for far too long. We have been apologizing for our accents, internalizing racist name calling, and staying silent while our black brothers and sisters get murdered, for far too long. We have been quiet, for far too long.

I am not a polisci major. I do not know what governmental policies will stop people from calling us the coronavirus or calling us a chink. I do not know what governmental policies will stop people from spitting on us or attacking us. However, what I do know, is that our stories matter. Your story, my story, and that other Asian American’s story matter. They matter because our stories are a medium of communication that will humanize us, that will de-alienate us, and that will make us visible to our very own country.

        Mahatma Gandhi once said, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” I understand this quote in two ways. First, society’s view on Asian Americans will not change without our experiences and perspectives. You can stimulate that change. Go out and tell people who you are and tell them your stories. Stories of how your family immigrated to America. Stories of what your name means and how you got it. Share the stories of your favorite dinners or your holiday traditions. Stories of the racism you faced as a child, or the stories of how you wanted to be as white as possible. If you keep sharing, people will listen. A ringing bell cannot forever be ignored.

        Second, you can not expect our world, our societies to change without attempting to change some part of yourself. There is always something you could do better. If you’re going to share your own stories and expect people to listen, you must be willing to listen to them when they tell theirs. This fight for unity, acceptance, and human rights is not a one-way street. We are not the only ones fighting systemic racism and we need to help one-another do so. I am aware that there have always been tensions between the Black and Asian communities, but to be pro- Asian American does not entail you having to be anti-Black.

        Not only do I believe that everyone should tell their stories, but I also believe everyone’s story should be heard. Each person’s experience gives us an opportunity to diversify our own perspectives, which in turn breaks down stereotypes, biases, and microaggressions, and is that not what moves our society forwards? We cannot solve this problem with an unchanged level of consciousness. We must be willing to change.

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Reflection

        This speech was definitely the hardest experiment I’ve done this semester; maybe because it was so personal, maybe because it revolved around a topic so serious. I had to watch a lot of interviews and read a lot of op-eds, essays, and articles in order to get my thoughts and opinions rolling and organized. Though these excerpts helped, I often found myself shaking out of anger, anxiousness, or passion which was extremely mentally straining. It’s unfortunate that it took me so long to build the courage to write a piece that is this forward and blunt, but I am ecstatic that I chose to write about this topic. I am proud of my decision to switch topics, even if it was pretty last minute.

        I found that writing in a tone that fits speech writing came fairly easy to me. This may be because I enjoy listening to a lot of speeches or because I’ve read a lot of motivational essays. Even when I was typing the speech out, I would find myself whispering it out loud with a tone as if I am in front of thousands of people. This is certainly something I want to do again in the future, maybe on another topic, maybe on a similar one.

        I understand that my speech isn’t fully finalized but am glad I was able to put down as much information and opinions as I did. I am looking forward to completing my speech for my final project and also reading the speech out loud.