Final Project.

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 final experiment will be a continuation of my third experiment. I have decided to have my speech in a written and audio form. Like before, the speech is still 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, Soon Chung Park, 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, Soon Chung Park, Xiaojie Tan, and Pak Ho – belong to four individuals killed because of the same reason: racism. Their difference? They were Asian American.

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            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.

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            Last summer, I saw the immense power of unity and allyship during the 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.

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        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 American stories have never received American publicity, at least not with the clear filter of reality.

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        So, I began to ask myself why. Why wasn’t I seeing Instagram stories from the people who spoke so passionately about Black Lives Matters? Why didn’t my white best friends of over 10 years ask me if I was okay? And why weren’t there conversations in my immediate Asian community surrounding the events that had happened? There was and still is a hesitance to talk about Asian Americans and the roles we play in American society, how we’re viewed in American society, and the racism that we have and continue to face in American society.

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        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 Black Americans. 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.

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        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 violently 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.

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        Not only do I believe that everyone should tell their stories, but I also believe that 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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            Mahatma Gandhi once said, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” and I understand this quote in two ways. First, society’s view on Asian Americans will not change without our experiences and our perspectives. You need to stimulate that change. Go out and tell people who you are. 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 and still face today, or the stories of how you wanted to be as white as possible growing up. If you keep sharing, people will listen. A ringing bell cannot forever be ignored.

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        Second, you cannot 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. I am aware that there have always been tensions between the Black and Asian communities, but to be pro-Asian does not entail you having to be anti-Black. This fight for unity, acceptance, and human rights is not a one-way street. You cannot pick and choose the battles we fight, because, at the end of the day, a lost battle will be a lost war. We are not the only ones fighting systemic racism and white supremacy and we need to help one another do so. We are all people. All people who bleed the same blood, sweat the same sweat, and shed the same tears. It’s going to take all of us, every race, every religion, every sexuality, every identity, to beat this global virus of racism.

 

        So, who were the first four individuals I named?

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Hyun Jung Grant: A single mother of two sons who worked early mornings and late nights to free her sons from worry. She was a young spirit at heart that enjoyed watching Korean dramas and cooking kimchi jjigae but was the happiest when the trio was together. May she rest in peace.

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Soon Chung Park: A widowed mother who immigrated to the States hoping for a better life for her five children. She was hardworking and generous, willing to sacrifice everything for her kids. May she rest in peace.

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Xiaojie Tan: A business owner who made her customers feel at home and treated her friends as if they were family. She was sweet, kind, and giving, and here for the opportunity to make her American dream come true. May she rest in peace.

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Pak Ho: A brave 75-year-old California father who lived in an Oakland senior care home. He was a thoughtful and considerate man, even giving his caretakers a batch of cookies after they took him to his second COVID-19 vaccination shot. May he rest in peace.

 

        So, now, ask yourself, “What is my story?” Like each of these four individuals, you have a story to tell, an experience that someone can learn from. I understand that speaking up is not an easy task to do, but when was change ever easy? Do it for yourself, for your family, for your friends, and for your community. Do it for change. Because right now? We really need it.