Every day, I remind myself that today is a fresh start. Today, I aim to tackle the mounting list of unwritten articles for my various publications. Today, I hope to resist the urge to react strongly to headlines or to corporations that exploit Asian culture while remaining silent on the ongoing violence against the Asian community—especially following the Atlanta shootings.
Maybe today will be the day I don’t have to suppress feelings of panic, sorrow, or anger, nor shut down my social media because someone unknowingly shared another disturbing account of anti-Asian racism or misogyny in the name of keeping us informed. Honestly, I would prefer not to be informed; I am not okay.
I am thankful for my friends who have reached out. Many of my friends—especially my Black and Asian women friends—have checked in on me since the tragic Atlanta murders. I sincerely appreciate their concern. They have been supportive since the first instances of anti-Asian racism became public during the early days of COVID-19.
When they ask how they can assist, I often find myself at a loss for words. I don’t need financial support or products to sell. My support network is robust, and I have friends I can lean on. Technically, I am okay. As a friend once said, “I am not in any imminent danger.” However, at times, it feels as if I am on the brink of danger. It feels like this country is poised to endanger not just me, but also my mother, my children, and countless others—people of color, women of color, and LGBTQIA+ individuals alike.
Sometimes, the threat is real; we just don’t recognize it until it’s too late.
I want to scream.
I struggle to articulate to my friends that their good intentions cannot resolve the deep-rooted issues we face. They are meaningful gestures, but they serve as mere band-aids on a much larger wound. How can I seriously suggest that we need to dismantle white supremacy and patriarchy when it feels like an insurmountable task? Who can accomplish that in the span of a day, or even a year? If it were feasible, wouldn’t it have already been achieved?
Moreover, how can I provide resources when I feel so drained? People are asking how they can better understand anti-Asian hate, learn about Asian American history, or foster allyship between Asians and Black individuals—all important topics. Yet, I feel an obligation to share insights and resources, utilizing platforms that others may not have access to—yet I am utterly exhausted.
I am so immensely tired.
I fear that the oppressive force of white patriarchy seeks to crush more than I am prepared to fight against. Their hatred seems stronger than my love, as they are willing to go to any length to suppress me, while I am unwilling to become a monster. Or so I claim. I hesitate to delve into whether that assertion is truly accurate.
Why must I justify my humanity?
The difficulty in explaining how to help stems from the systemic nature of these issues, and I lack the energy to unpack it all. I am done defending my existence. My fellow Asian women, those who identify as female, and my beloved nine-year-old girl are often regarded as disposable. We live in fear when we should feel secure. We are exoticized, fetishized, and disbelieved when we simply seek to exist.
I am not okay. I feel like a shattered windshield, on the verge of collapsing under pressure. I am angry, sad, scared, and undeniably human.
I am not sorry.
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Summary:
The article reflects on the emotional turmoil faced by individuals in the Asian community amid rising anti-Asian violence, emphasizing feelings of fear, anger, and exhaustion. It highlights the struggles of conveying these sentiments to friends and the inadequacy of surface-level support in addressing systemic issues.
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