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July 9, 2021
Recently, I returned home shaken after dropping my kids off at a friend’s house for a playdate. I had just parked my minivan and was heading to her front door, with my children following behind me. Suddenly, a dark gray SUV pulled up, and a white man with his windows down shouted, “Excuse me. You should know that a lot of kids play in this area, and my wife saw you driving 50 mph down the street. She watches our grandchildren. That’s not safe and you should be more careful.”
I was completely taken aback and confused. What on earth was happening, and why was he addressing me about it? I turned my back on him and muttered, “Whatever.” My kids rushed to me, asking if I had really been speeding. For a split second, I doubted myself, but then I firmly replied, “No, I was not.”
Firstly, this neighborhood has a stop sign every 300 feet—many of which are uphill. My friend’s house is just two doors down from a stop sign on a street where I had to come to a complete stop. To have sped up to 50 mph, I would have had to accelerate, screech to a halt without leaving skid marks, and back into my parking spot—all within 100 feet in my aging minivan. If I could actually do that, I’d be a star in Tokyo Drift.
Secondly, it was impossible for them to have witnessed my driving, even if I had been speeding—which I wasn’t. Did his wife possess X-ray vision and a built-in radar gun? Did she know it was me behind the wheel, despite the tinted windows? Did she even have my license plate noted?
I simmered during the ten-minute drive home, replaying the incident in my mind. When I recounted the event to my husband, he responded with a distracted “Okay…?” (I’d call it patronizing, but that’s just my perspective. He’s not a bad guy, trust me.) I stared at him, frustrated that he couldn’t grasp why I felt so enraged. I was struggling to articulate my feelings.
After a while, I stomped away, flailing my arms in frustration and snapped, “Oh, here we go again! Just another instance of me getting upset about a white person!” I slammed the door to my room in a huff, but it didn’t feel satisfying.
Navigating Life as a POC
Here’s the reality: I do have a short temper, but I’m also easily distracted. Once I vent my feelings, I typically move on—unless something really irritates me to the point where I feel the need to write lengthy rants online.
After some time, I finally articulated what was truly bothering me. Why do white individuals feel the need to monitor POC, especially when they’re just going about their daily lives?
It’s maddening—and sometimes even dangerous.
Unexplained Fear
Considering the current anti-Asian climate and the data indicating that a majority of hate crimes against Asians are committed by white men, I felt unsafe. A study from 1992 to 2014 showed that 75% of assailants in anti-Asian hate crimes were white. Given the reported 164% surge in anti-Asian hate crimes over the past year, it’s likely that the percentage of white male attackers has also increased.
As an Asian American woman with four Asian American children, it was incredibly intimidating to be confronted by a white man. He could easily have harmed us—before you say I’m being dramatic, let me remind you that a couple of years ago, a white man in a pickup truck actually tried to hit me while I had the right of way at a crosswalk.
So no, my fear is not unfounded.
It doesn’t matter that he appeared calm in his self-righteousness; that could change in an instant. In my experience, white people—especially white men—can quickly become aggressive when they feel their authority is challenged. He could have exited his vehicle and physically threatened me or my children. He looked fit and capable, while I don’t exactly consider myself “fit.”
The Reality of White Privilege
It doesn’t matter that we were in a wealthy neighborhood filled with million-dollar homes. I’m constantly reminded that I don’t belong here, even though I pay my taxes and grew up locally.
In this country, POC often feel like they don’t matter. For some reason, many white individuals believe they own certain spaces, expecting POC to justify their presence. We face restrictions and regulations that are often rooted in racism.
For decades, my mother received hate mail in her predominantly white gated community and was frequently reported for minor infractions by a particularly nasty old white woman.
This sense of entitlement—expecting POC to heed their words simply because they’re white—is infuriating. It’s a manifestation of racism disguised as concern.
I wish chronic pain and suffering on every meddling white person who calls the cops on POC or posts on platforms like Next Door under the guise of being a concerned citizen when they’re simply being racist. I don’t want to wish harm on anyone, but I wouldn’t mind manifesting some rather unpleasant ailments for the rest of their lives.
For more insights on this topic, check out this other blog post that dives deeper into related issues. And if you’re looking for expert information, Make a Mom provides great resources on home insemination, while CCRM IVF is an excellent source for pregnancy-related topics.
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