Born and raised in the United States, I have never pledged allegiance to any other flag but ours. This country is my home. I am that person who sings patriotic songs on road trips. If we’re driving together, there is a high likelihood that, at some point, our windows will be down and we’ll be singing, “This land is your land, this land is my land.”
Being American is part of my identity, but there have been instances where I have been confronted, challenged, and hurt. From the time I was a young girl, I have witnessed people shouting at my parents, degrading them for speaking English with thick Korean accents. At different periods in my life, people have extended the corners of their eyes with their fingers, mocking my Asian eyes, telling me to “go back to China.” I have been asked if I see things through a panoramic view because of the ways my eyes are shaped. Words and actions directed at my family and me have ranged from quiet and subtle to chaotic and violent, and for most of my life, I’ve kept silent. That ends today.
Here we are in 2021, addressing anti-Asian hate and violence, and most of us are devastated and saddened that we have to confront it. We view videos that show violence against elderly Asian people. We read about the murders in Atlanta and feel sadness and sorrow, and we question how this can be real. We retweet hashtags, like #StopAsianHate, as a call to action. What does “stopping” Asian hate look like? What steps can we take?