Most of the time being Asian American is fun. Know how to make authentic zha jiang mian (traditional Chinese dish). I have a rich history and culture. I can understand the "Crazy Rich Asians" dialogue without subtitles. It is a duality that I value and honor.
But being a Chinese in America during a global pandemic, commonly referred to as the "Chinese virus," is like being part of a Black Mirror episode where you are the bad guy. Over the past few weeks I have seen endless news of how racist-motivated crimes against Asians have been made daily, not to say they happen every hour. My nationality has become synonymous with a deadly disease. Even going out to buy food is terrifying, as newcomers approach me and ask me where I am from and tell me to leave food for those who are not responsible for the virus.
All my experiences with racism in the past are nothing compared to the overt terror that haunts me now. Racism is not just about insensitive jokes about dog eating and almond eyes. Now there is a threat against me, my loved ones and millions of Asian Americans in this country. I do not consider myself as someone who is easily scared, but now I am scared - for the well-being of myself and the millions of Asians living in America.
Since the outbreak of the COVID-19 virus, feelings of racism against Asians have grown scary. Asian people (some not even of Chinese origin) around the world have been harassed, in some cases harassment has escalated to physical violence. Racist analogies have prevailed on social media, including President Trump's use of racist terms as "kung flu". Claims that the Chinese are responsible for the deadly virus are not only inaccurate (as the WHO has confirmed) but also dangerous.
Language, as we have learned from history, has power. They can be mere words for one person, they can be a call for violence for another. Instead of instigating hate crimes against Asians, I hoped world leaders would curb this. I was wrong; Trump has simply reinforced them by calling the COVID-19 virus "a Chinese virus". In doing so, Trump and his administration are not only fueling the stirring up of racism against Asians, but are also legitimizing it.
We're in a very fragile ecosystem, even without Ttrump's irresponsibility that adds to the panic. While the White House is making things worse, I am getting messages from my mom, who worries that I might be the next victim in the news. Her anxiety is not unwarranted. I don't want to think about what might happen to me the next time I leave home, but I can't avoid it because it is on every Asian American's mind. Like them, I'm wondering when all this will end.
It is not the first time an illness has been linked to an innocent group of people. Not long ago, AIDS was said to be "gay-related immune deficiency" or "gay cancer". During the Ebola crisis, West Africans were equally blamed. It is cruel to blame the people who have suffered most from the diseases. While Trump and his administration did not even move a finger to prevent it, they informed me that my relatives in China had been infected and subsequently died of COVID-19.
This pandemic is personal. It stole my normality, my family and now my sense of security. While we can do nothing against it, racism has always been a choice. I am also concerned about how this will affect the perception of Asians for a long time. As I write this, I know that there are thousands of Asian professional doctors in the forefront of this disease, despite the personal attacks they are facing. Like you (Americans) they worry about America. Now is the time for America to worry about them and their racism. I'm Chinese but also American. Although I am afraid, I must remember that there is still love to be found and shared.
In the end, we are not a virus. We are not your enemy. We are your friends, neighbors, colleagues, and above all, we are human beings who deserve respect and empathy. Despite the things this virus can take from us, I continue to believe that hope, compassion, and empathy spread more than hatred.
Adapted from Cosmopolitan
