Every day, I remind myself that today is a fresh start. That today, I will finally tackle that mountain of unwritten articles piling up for various publications. That today, I will not react emotionally to headlines or companies profiting from Asian culture while remaining silent about ongoing violence against the Asian community, particularly after recent tragic events.
Perhaps today, I won’t feel the need to suppress my panic, grief, or anger—or shut down my social media, even the group chats, because someone unknowingly shared yet another painful story of anti-Asian racism or misogyny.
I wish to stop being informed; I am not okay.
Gratitude for Support
I truly appreciate my friends for checking in on me, especially my Black women and Asian women friends who have reached out following the Atlanta shootings. Their support has been ongoing since the early days of anti-Asian racism linked to COVID-19.
When they ask how to help, I find myself at a loss for words. I don’t need financial aid. I have a solid support network.
Technically, I’m okay. As one friend put it, “I am not in any imminent danger.” Yet, sometimes it feels like I am on the brink of danger. It seems as though this country is intent on endangering not just me but my family and all marginalized communities.
The Weight of Fear and Anger
I struggle to articulate my feelings to my friends because no quick solution exists. Their well-meaning check-ins feel like a temporary fix for a deeper wound. How do I express the desire to dismantle systemic issues that endanger us?
If it were easy to eradicate these problems, wouldn’t it have been done already? I feel obligated to provide resources about anti-Asian hate, history, and allyship, but I am utterly exhausted.
I fear that the oppressive forces against us are stronger than our love and resistance. I grapple with the fear that their hatred will prevail, while I refuse to resort to becoming a monster myself.
The Burden of Explanation
It’s challenging to explain what help looks like because the issues are systemic, and I lack the energy to detail them all. I’m tired of having to prove my humanity.
My fellow Asian women, those who identify as female, and my precious nine-year-old girl are often viewed as disposable. We live in fear when we should feel safe, often blamed, exoticized, and fetishized, and not believed in our right to exist.
I am not okay. I feel like a shattered windshield, on the verge of collapsing. I am filled with anger, sadness, fear, and ultimately, I am human.