Hello my name is Eric Lee and I’m an Asian American (technically multi-racial). Recent event have really pushed to the forefront of thought my personal relationship with racial bias, racism and the systemic social issues that plague our country. As an Asian American I’ve been exposed to my share of negative racial commentary throughout life; comments about eyes, color, language, driving ability, eating habits, how we name our children, penis size (yes I’m being serious), disparaging looks and on and on.
Though at the same time I must also admit the privilege I’ve had growing up in a middle class community. Most of these taunts and racial slurs have come from stupid and non-physically threatening sources. Meaning, I never had to fear for my life or feared someone was going to do me physical harm as part of this. Having grown up in an immediate community where violence was not the norm, where law enforcement was not prone to profile individual POC, I was privileged that the abuse was only verbal and emotional, not physical. This may not sound like much of a privilege, but I think we are all realizing (because of recent and ongoing events), that this simple factor IS a privilege.

Which brings me to the much messier question, how have I been a part of them problem for all these years. While Asian Americans have by no means had an easy history in the US, we’ve greatly benefited from the civil rights movements while not being as visible on the front lines. Also, because of the backing of strong Asian economies many have been fortunate to position themselves in more affluent settings. While this doesn’t change the profiling or underlying racial issues, it does ease the reactions/interactions that we’ve endured.
I will never know what it’s like to be an African American living in a lower socioeconomic neighborhood, who fears being arrested/beaten or worse every time they leave their home to go to the store, work or school. I will never truly know the frustration of fighting for equal rights for decades, to seemingly make little headway. One of my first exposures to the unrest associated with racial injustice was watching Los Angeles burn in 1992 during the Rodney King riots (and hearing the rise of gangsta rap). As a 10yo I didn’t fully grasp the situation, but the image is still deeply imprinted in my mind.
Do I like that these protests have turned violent (whether it’s the protesters or other agitators not related, remains to be seen)? No, but it doesn’t surprise me one bit. If I’d been trying to calmly, logically and peacefully protest and make my voice heard only to be brushed aside time and again, I too would have little faith in a system that keeps promising things will change but never delivering that change. Whether you like it or not, you can’t help notice what’s going on, and the protesters and voices screaming for change have your attention. I know they’ve got mine, and while I consider myself an educated and empathetic human, they’ve got me reconsidering my place in perpetuating the racial inequality that continues to persist. We can all be better, we can all do better, and we must.