Until All Are Free from Fear

Mothers, workers, spouses, a business owner, and a veteran. Delaina Ashley Yaun, Daoyou Feng, Xiaojie Tan, and Paul Andre Michels.

On March 17, 2021, they were among the eight people shot and killed by Robert Aaron Long, a 21-year old white man from the state of Georgia. Long deliberately carried out attacks on three spas in the greater-Atlanta region, leaving six Asian women dead, four of whom were of Korean descent. Details of the mass shooting are still forthcoming; however, one thing is clear: Long’s deadly attacks primarily targeted Asian women, potentially adding to the growing list of anti-Asian hate crimes. (At the time of this post's publication, The New York Times reported that investigations into Long’s motives were still ongoing; however, authorities had not ruled out racial motivations.)

According to Stop AAPI Hate, the number of hate incidents reported by Asian people in the United States is on the rise. Between March 2020 and February 2021, reports of anti-Asian harassment and assault climbed to 3,795. In contrast, there were 2,808 reports of anti-Asian hate incidents in 2019. Often just the tip of the iceberg, these numbers may not capture the totality of cases, as many acts of aggression or hostility go unreported.

Experts say former President Donald Trump’s blatantly racist rhetoric, which blamed China for COVID-19, fueled anti-Asian sentiment and harassment. For Asian women, the rise in racial bias and animus has been acute. The numbers from Stop AAPI Hate show that last year, Asian women reported 2.3 times more incidents of hate than Asian men, ranging from online harassment, to verbal and physical attacks.

Yet the sad truth is, anti-Asian racism is nothing new. It has been a part of the United States’ long and bloody legacy of white supremacy. The rising acts of violence against Asian communities in the United States are a reminder of this truth.

The history of anti-Asian racism dates back as early as the 19th century. In the same breath that the United States benefited from the labor of Chinese railroad, construction, and agricultural workers during this period, it restricted Asian immigration through the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. The very first and only restrictive immigration law to target one specific nationality, the 1882 Act was later followed by the Immigration Act of 1917 and the Immigration Act of 1924, which denied Asian immigrants entry into the United States. Fueled by racist policies, xenophobia, and white fears of economic competition, violence against Asian communities in the United States was present in 1885, 1942, 1982, and is still alive in 2021. 

Today, people of Asian descent continue to face anti-Asian sentiment and violence, despite their many contributions to the productivity, economic health, and cultural richness of the nation. On the frontlines of the pandemic, AAPI workers are highly represented: they constitute 8.5 percent of all essential healthcare workers. Amongst Filipinos, 11.5 percent are in the healthcare sector. Moreover, seventeen percent of Thai, and 13 percent of Nepalese workers occupy food, retail, cleaning, public, and other essential services. They are among the many workers that the nation has relied on during this pandemic.

However, AAPI communities, like Black, Latinx, and Indigenous communities, are fighting to survive and exist in a nation that has yet to uproot and eradicate white supremacy, manifested as discriminatory policies and economic, physical, and psychological violence.

We at the Better Life Lab are grieving with the families and communities of the eight individuals killed in a hate-filled act of violence. Yet while our hearts break for the lives lost, we are simultaneously filled with frustration and anger. Here at the Lab, we will continue to channel our energy into working for work-family justice and intersectional gender equity because we know that no one can thrive — until people of all classes, races, ethnicities, and genders are free to live without fear.