Asian Americans have been dealing with growing anxiety about racial attacks since the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic – everything from ostracism to cruel comments and physical violence.
The shootings in Atlanta, which left six Asian women dead, put these concerns even more in evidence. Some say they are leaving less – and when they leave, they go with others to protect themselves. Others say they have smartphones ready to record hate incidents.
Here are some voices from all over Southern California:
Buying pepper spray in bulk
The slightly socially distant line at the Lien Hoa BBQ Deli advanced slowly. Customers at the takeout diner in Little Saigon, Orange County, couldn’t help but get too close to each other when they approached the cashier to pay for scented roast pork and duck.
People ordered juicy and sizzling meats in a heated window as the conversation revolved around the headlines, including the arrest of what some described as “the American man attacking Asian women”.
“I saw on the news that the police have not yet discovered why they are committing the crime. Is it because someone from a minority culture doesn’t deserve so much protection? Or is it because they deserve to be permanent targets? ”Said Bill Tran, a tutor from Santa Ana.“ It is ridiculous that my sister, my aunt, my grandmother cannot be safe in their own city. No one feels they can just run out at any time. “
Tran asked a worker at the barbecue site if he felt safe in light of the increase in racially motivated attacks. The man shrugged and confided that his daughters had bought a stock of pepper spray in bulk.
“Even people in ethnic enclaves are getting ready,” said Tran, 31, who is Vietnamese-American. It ensures that the phone’s battery is always charged “in case something happens and I need to register. The videos will be our record. “
A system of camaraderie, ready to witness hatred
Near the entrance to Peking Kitchen, along Santa Ana’s busy 17th Street, Mary Lau and her friend Lynn Porter texted family members to see if they had food orders.
Women in their 20s say this week is a good time for comforting food, considering what is happening in Southern California and across the country.
“We are interested in news about vaccines – you know, how to get them – but all we hear is about violence,” said Lau, from Anaheim, who is Taiwanese-American.
She visited Porter, who lives near the restaurant, and they decided to follow their pattern of supporting small businesses during the pandemic.
She said some of her friends were concerned “what would happen if these struggling stores became targets”.
Lau worries about the mental health of immigrant families “just trying to live their lives and stay safe. Many of them are doing honest work. They need public support for their right to live without harassment ”.
Lau and Porter, who is half Chinese, say that when they leave home, they are never alone – they guarantee that someone will accompany them.
“In this environment, you need a friend. Someone else to be a witness, “said Lau,” in case something goes wrong. “
Talking about racism on Instagram
Kym Estrada, a 29-year-old businesswoman in Long Beach, used Instagram to express her frustration with the anti-Asian hatred that bubbled up last year.
“We are not a monolith,” she wrote of the San & Wolves vegan bakery story. “We cover all the different parts of an entire continent. My whole life I have seen my elders and colleagues being treated less than because of their slanted eyes and not speaking a word correctly because English is their second or third language! I am telling you now, this and future generations of Asian Americans will not allow this hatred to continue. “
It is probably not the most strategic movement to be so open about your beliefs on social media, and people send direct messages to her saying so, she said. But she doesn’t care.
She wants people to know what is going on in her community, especially the whites who make up a large part of the vegan community and its followers.
She writes in the security of her computer, a privilege that her immigrant parents did not have.
When she heard the news on Wednesday morning about the attacks on Asian women in Atlanta, she was surprised to be so affected by being so far away from her. But the moment bubbled up memories of racism and prompted her to take a stand.
Estrada said he remembers people calling her Chinese as a child and laughing, as if it were an insult, even though she is Filipino. Her parents did not teach her Tagalog for fear that she would distance herself from her colleagues. They never gave her homemade lunches to take to school – instead, they packed Lunchables, so she could be like everyone else.
When she became old enough to date, she remembers being deeply aware of the fetishization of young Asian women. She made an effort to be tall and vocal, to avoid being seen as submissive and targeted by men. She avoided dating white men.
It came as no surprise to her, then, that investigators claimed that race was not a factor in the Atlanta attacks and that the suspect claimed to have an addiction to sex.
“It is quite obvious to me that it was racially motivated,” she said.
In the past year, she has experienced an increase in disturbing encounters with strangers, she said.
Once, someone pushed her off a sidewalk. Another day, a man ignored her when he passed her. His partner, who is also a Filipino, has received several orders to return to the country.
Despite years of racism in her own life, this is a “light bulb” moment, she said.
“I have always experienced some kind of anti-Asian hatred in my life, but growing up I didn’t see it as hatred. I saw how people made fun of me and my parents, ”she said. “I accepted that ‘Asians look funny’. There is much unlearning to be done. “
Estrada said that until now she had not thought much about her safety as a young Asian-American businesswoman. She is more concerned with her mother, who works as a bank teller and has always had racist encounters in public spaces.
Estrada said she probably won’t talk to her parents about her fears or the violence, however.
It is a “complicated” conversation because of divergent political views between the generations, she said.
A sense of inevitability
Michelle Nguyen Bradley said she is only now learning to have conversations about race with her friends and family, despite having struggled with these issues all her life.
“The myth of the model minority is so bad for us because it means they think we are all ‘crazy rich Asians’ or that we are doctors,” said Nguyen Bradley, a 38-year-old Palms resident and online program host.
She gasped at the thought: “Asian Americans are taught not to take up space or talk too much about ourselves. When some of us speak, it seems that no one is listening. “
In the past, it was easy to bury your head in the sand, she said, because horrible racist attacks were not happening directly on her or in your block.
As she gets older, this is more difficult to do, she said.
“I was afraid it would happen, and it finally happened, but not with me. And it’s not better, ”she said.
And she knows that it can happen to her.
“You are carrying that sense of inevitability,” she said.
Nguyen Bradley said he is concerned about his Vietnamese immigrant parents and finds it difficult to address the issue of racism in light of the Atlanta attacks.
Most of them have stayed at home during the pandemic – their father is recovering from COVID-19. But she worries about the times they have to leave their home in a mostly white Pittsburgh neighborhood.
“Of course, I’m worried about whether they’re going to Walmart or that sort of thing,” she said. “Asian children, we don’t want our parents to be concerned. We see how far we can go without talking to them about it. ”
As for her, Nguyen Bradley started taking precautions at the beginning of last year, considering the racist rhetoric at the beginning of the pandemic, but has since given up a little.
She avoided taking the dog for a walk or receiving mail at night, asking her husband to do the chores. She would press the phone in her pocket while she was away, ready to call someone or take pictures if she needed to.
But now, she is exhausted.
“I can barely get out of bed,” she said. “You cannot live your life constantly on guard.”
To envision a future in which she feels safe “is very cloudy”.