#STOPAAPIHATE: Anti-Asian Violence, The Pandemic, and Me

I remember when I started wearing a mask during the pandemic.

It was late March 2020, and as a socially-minded person, I was an early adopter of the mask. It was a pretty obvious decision for me – raised by a Japanese mother, “wearing a mask because you’re sick” was normal. But I soon realized this was the complete opposite in the States.

What should’ve been a relatively simple action, that at best signaled that I was taking this pandemic seriously, and at worst, signaled that I was a hypochondriac, was more complicated than I had thought.

I don’t remember why I was leaving my house that day. I don’t remember what mask I wore.

What I do remember, however, was how scared I was to wear it, because Americans didn’t wear masks. Asians wore masks. Asians were also the people getting blamed for “bringing over COVID,” and more seriously, being attacked.

Even as early as March 2020, stories were already circulating about Asians being assaulted. Usually the victims were women, notably younger or elderly people, AKA groups that are deemed especially vulnerable. And the perpetrators of these crimes weren’t your usual suspects. There was no racist insignia, no obvious signs of bigotry. These were “average people.” They could’ve been your coworker, your mail person, your neighbor. And the speed at which this all occurred was frightening – these crimes happened rapidly, unexpectedly, and were over as soon as they started.

Worst of all, unlike in other videos of crimes I’d seen, I watched video after video of bystanders doing nothing. Nobody checked on the victims. Nobody called for help. It was like it never happened at all.

And every time I watched these videos, I didn’t just see people like me, but my grandmother, my mother, my friends, and myself.

There was a very real sense that I was next.

I distinctly remember how these stories kept ending up on my newsfeed, and I remember how immeasurably grateful I was that my job had moved to a work-from-home model – not because I was afraid of catching COVID-19, but because I was afraid of being attacked.

Sadly, my story isn’t unique, and I’m blessed to have only ever been scared.

Last week, Praytell’s Asian/Asian American ERG elevAsian invited Eunice Kim to share findings from Stop AAPI Hate’s national report that was released in August and how it turned a tragedy into a movement. Since Stop AAPI Hate was founded in 2020, over 9,000 cases of anti-Asian violence have been reported (read: there’s definitely been more), with over a third of these incidents out in public, either on the street or in front of businesses.

The perception is, of course, that these cases are anomalies - that they only occurred during the pandemic, spurred by the comments of “Kung Flu,” or were inspired by the mass shooting in Atlanta, times when racists allegedly felt most emboldened.

The reality is, racists have been emboldened (they’ve been emboldened since 1790, but I digress), and according to the data, anti-Asian violence is still on the rise. Incidents of vandalism have more than doubled, and reports of physical violence have gone up, specifically in public spaces – incidents of physical violence in public streets have increased over 10% in the last year alone.

This fight is far from over, and your Asian friends, colleagues, and loved ones are far from safe. I hope that one day, we’ll be able to say that cases are steadily declining – or even better, are nonexistent.

Until then, I’ll take solace in the change that I do see, and hold on to the last sliver of hope I have.

I’m heartened every time I attend an elevAsian seminar and see more non-Asian faces than Asian ones - like at the Stop AAPI Hate presentation we had last week.

I’m inspired every time my friends and colleagues ask questions that show they genuinely want to help, and I’m always just a little stunned when they actually act on those questions.

I’m a little less scared when I see that people are finally seeing the world the way that I see it, they’re angry for me, and they want to see things change, too.

I know things are changing. I know things will get better, and I think it can happen sooner than later.

But in order to get there, there’s still a lot of work to be done.

With that last sliver of hope I have left in me, I hope you’ll join me in doing that work.

About elevAsian ElevAsian’s purpose is to connect in a safe space, discuss issues impacting the Asian community, and seek opportunities to uplift others.