Say Something Because Hatred is Killing Us: Dismantling The AAPI Invisibility Problem in the Outdoors
I woke up this morning to another horrific news to add to the pile of incidents that have been happening in the U.S. involving the Asian American and Pacific Islander communities. On the evening of March 16, 2021, eight people were killed at three massage parlors in Atlanta, Georgia - six of whom were of Asian descent. This is just one of the many violent incidents that have occurred in the past year targeting the AAPI community. A strong hatred towards the AAPI communities nationwide has been spreading since the start of the pandemic a year ago. This hatred emanated from the onset of Covid-19 and the divisive propaganda of former president Trump with his habit of blaming Covid-19 on China. Stop AAPI Hate, a reporting organization launched by various AAPI advocacy organizations has received 3,795 reports of hate incidents between March 19, 2020 and February 28, 2021, and this number continues to rise. These hate incidents come in various forms: verbal harassment, physical assault (some of which have resulted in death), civil rights violations and online harassment, and occur everywhere including public streets/sidewalks (25.3%) and public parks (9.8%). And, as recent as last night, we have to add mass killing to this list. The hate incidents have occurred in all 50 states and Washington, D.C. The victims vary in ages including the elderly with women reporting hate incidents 2.3 times more than men. (See the National Report published on March 17, 2021 for full details).
Yet, hate crimes against the AAPI communities have been on the rise even prior to these most recent violent episodes in light of the pandemic. According to the report released by the Asian American Bar Association of New York: "Anti-Asian hate incidents increased dramatically in the wake of the 9/11 attacks and then surged after the election of Donald J. Trump. South Asian, Muslim, Sikh, Hindu and Middle Eastern communities all faced recurring cycles of harassment and violence. Since the onset of the pandemic, however, anti-Asian hate incidents now primarily directed at East Asians have skyrocketed according to both official and unofficial reports. Across the country, there were more than 2,500 reports of anti-Asian hate incidents related to COVID-19 between March and September 2020. And this number understates the actual number of anti-Asian hate incidents because most incidents are not reported." (Source: "A Rising Tide of Hate and Violence against Asian Americans in New York During COVID-19: Impact, Causes, Solutions).
For many of us, the outdoor space is a safe place to be and it is supposedly welcoming for all. I thought that once when I first became acquainted with hiking. To this day, despite the polarization happening in the U.S., I still believe that the outdoors can be the idyllic place that we wish for it to be - a space devoid of any kind of racism, sexism, xenophobia and all forms of oppression that exist in our society as a whole. Yet, the truth is hate incidents can also occur in the outdoors. This is evident in the recent slew of attacks against AAPI individuals that occurred in public streets and sidewalks, as well as, public parks.
The outdoor industry which is experiencing an awakening towards becoming more inclusive, equitable, and diverse must understand that there is a direct correlation between these hate incidents happening in the U.S. right now and the culture that CAN exist in recreational spaces. If the predominant social issues within the U.S. involve racism or xenophobia, then we should expect that to be true in the outdoors as well. In my own experience, as an example, when Trump was callously using anti-immigrant rhetoric to advance his interests, I experienced more men and women on hiking trails who expressed sentiments that resembled that of Trump’s which compromised my safety as a hiker. The rise of the hate incidents against AAPI individuals is symptomatic of the country’s chronic disease - its xenophobic and racist attitudes and mindset towards Asians and immigrants. This disease knows no boundaries and can arise in all scenarios including the outdoors.
Thus, it isn’t safe to be of Asian descent in the outdoors - not then, and especially not now. That is a fact. (Read As An Immigrant Woman of Color, Invisibility Kept Me Safe Until It Didn’t - via AMC Blog). Even before the pandemic, Asians including myself have been targets of racism and xenophobia. And yet, as discussed in many social forums online, the media took too long to catch up on the plight of the AAPI community and give it the attention it deserves. The same appears to be true within the outdoor industry. In a time when social media campaigns are utilized to advocate for social causes, the outdoor media, brands, companies, non-profit organizations and all other entities have fallen silent on the Covid-19 induced hate crimes against the AAPI community. In my limited research on this topic, I only observed one major outdoor brand that lent support to the Stop AAPI Hate campaign on social media - North Face.
I’m left wondering why that is especially when from my observations at the Outdoor Retailer shows, there seems to be a heavy reliance on Asian-owned businesses for supply chain needs. It has also been common practice for many major brands to hire local people from countries like China, Bangladesh, India, Philippines, among many others, to do the labor part of the manufacturing of their products. Reportedly, some of these labor practices have been found to be unfair and unethical, if not exploitative. To date, there’s lack of transparency when it comes to labor practices of outdoor brands in foreign countries, yet again proving that invisibility and silence on the issue provide the outdoor brands the leverage needed to evade potential ethical and legal accountability while perpetuating harm on the local people in these Asian countries. In any event, this industry cannot function without the contributions of Asian owned businesses or entities, not to mention the AAPI consumers who will continue to grow in numbers with the changing demographics in the U.S.
Beyond that, we are in a phase where it has become the norm for outdoor brands to capitalize on the JEDI notion as a means to market their products to historically marginalized groups including the AAPI community. Along the same lines, outdoor non-profit organizations are investing in attracting partnerships and memberships with AAPI communities to sustain their existence and mission as an organization. In a time when advocacy is much needed for the AAPI community, why have these entities turned completely silent on the pressing issue harming Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders?
If there is a genuine desire for the outdoor industry to render the outdoors safe for all, and knowing that the current hate and violent behaviors towards Asian Americans do exist in public parks and spaces, then why has the outdoor industry been silent on this issue? What will it take for the outdoor industry to speak up? After all, the attacks and violence have been happening for over a year now. How long will it take before the outdoor industry says something about this hate epidemic? Then, I wonder, “would this recent Atlanta mass killing of Asians finally compel outdoor industry stakeholders to say or do something to show some form of support and solidarity with the AAPI community?" Invisibility is insidious on so many levels, and the worse version of it is in fact killing us literally.
Therefore, I urge the outdoor industry to do more. Redefine your “allship” to be one that is proactive and preemptive. The AAPI community needs you to be no less than that in your approach. Launch your campaigns to support marginalized/affected communities even long before doing so becomes the mainstream fad in the outdoor media/social media space. As soon as you see the problem unfolding within a particular community, start talking about. Don’t wait until it becomes a sensationalized issue. No issue is too small if it is harming or threatening a marginalized community that doesn’t have the bandwidth, privilege or power to be heard. In fact, in such instances, your role as an ally is critical because speaking up on their behalf becomes tremendously pivotal to create the conversations that have yet to exist. Speaking up and taking action are both antidotes to invisibility. Do one or the other; even better, to the extent you can, do both. If you don’t act swiftly, ask yourself, are you intending to really protect the communities that you claim to serve or target as part of your work towards equity and inclusion in the outdoors? Or, does your true intention end at being “performative” at best? (Read this article to learn the 26 ways to be an ally in the outdoor industry).
If you are recreating outdoors, the same principles apply - be proactive and preemptive. Intervene in conversations where you hear xenophobic or racist comments. Educate your peers about the negative impact of their statements or actions. Being silent or doing nothing is the worse you can do to perpetuate the harm that invisibility has imposed upon the AAPI community since the beginning of time and history with the U.S. Disrupt that narrative by taking action and speaking up. If the culprit’s behavior escalates, don’t hesitate to report the incident to the authorities. Hate crimes exist in patterns, and in such form, they are the most damaging they can ever be to the affected community. Hence, reporting them is mandatory, not an option, as a way to create a form of accountability.
If you are an AAPI experiencing some form of verbal or physical assault, you have to speak up. Deconstruct the internalized oppression that you hold. Don’t minimize the action and treat it as an isolated incident. It’s more important than ever to be proactive and preemptive. Being apathetic led us down this path of invisibility. We need to get out of this trap of refusing to use our voices. Stop using invisibility as self-protection. It never protected us to begin with. It only protects those who hate us and are now driven to cause our community pain and suffering. They do and they can partly because of our own apathy and inaction. Be an observer and a reporter of hate incidents towards AAPIs around you. Facts and figures are also antidotes to the invisibility that we face as a racial group. Take advantage of this set of information to bolster your cause and educate others of the ramifications on AAPI that the mainstream has historically ignored because of the “model minority” concept that has been used against us.
To everyone - I urge you to say something, do something. Help get rid of the invisibility when it comes to the marginalization and oppression of the AAPI community.
We are here. We exist. We are hurting.
We cannot allow racism, xenophobia or hate to continue harming the AAPI community. At the very least, we must do our part to keep the outdoors safe the way we fiercely believe it should be.
Note: There are many ways you can support the AAPI community. The above measures are just some of them. Initiating conversations with your network can be a good start and strategizing how to become an effective ally will vary in scope and design. Do your research. Talk about it. Utilize your JEDI-work network of resources. Start a campaign to show your support. See list of resources below as a start - some of which outline the ways that you can help.
Post-article reflection:
As I reflect on this issue as an Asian American, I worry about my family and friends in the U.S. The hiking trails and public spaces are less safer for us because of this hate epidemic. Being an Asian American has always carried with it a set of burden that can never be unloaded until such time systemic oppression and hatred are dismantled. For you to understand the Asian American identity and experience, I share with you the insight of one of the leading scholars on the AAPI history in the U.S. - Frank H. Wu:
When I was a kid growing up in the Midwest in the 1970s, I knew there was something not quite right when I was teased and taunted for no reason, ceaselessly if casually. My peers challenged me to kung fu fights with their eyes drawn back in a slant and chanting ching-chong-chink-jap-gook. Although we were the only family in the neighborhood who looked like us, the other Asian Americans whom I met now and then, of every ethnic background whether male or female, had been exposed to the same. But I was told by the adults supervising the scene to get over it, take the joke, and reply that sticks and stones would break my bones but words would never hurt me. As a consequence, I understood these incidents were merely in my own head, of no concern to anyone else, for whom they were indeed funny.
It was thanks to the murder of Vincent Chin, a Chinese American, at the hands of white autoworkers, during the depths of the recession of the early 1980s in my hometown of Detroit, the “Motor City,” that I realized I was not alone. Although I didn’t know him, I identified with him. He was bludgeoned with a baseball bat on the eve of his wedding, while out with buddies celebrating a bachelor’s party. As cerebral matter, spinal fluid, and blood pooled onto the pavement beneath him, spilling from a head cracked open, he uttered the last words, “It’s not fair.”
His killers used the same racial epithets with which I was more familiar than I cared to be. They said, using ample obscenity, that it was because of him they were out of work, apparently referring to the influx of imported cars into the market, upsetting the American monopoly that had prevailed until then. Forget that he was as assimilated as could be, it was mistaken identity twice over: Chinese, not Japanese; American, not foreign. To those who took out their frustrations on him, lethally, he nonetheless embodied Toyota, Tokyo, and by extension the “Orient” which was exotic and somehow sinister. The slurs pack their own punch. They lead to the sticks and stones.
Vincent Chin was symbolic, but not of what the men who took his life believed. Pleading guilty under the terms of a deal, they never denied the act; they only argued their motivation was plain anger as if that were an excuse. For their transgression, they were sentenced to probation for three years and a fine of $3000 each, praised by the judge as good men who would not again do anything so bad. The older of the two, who according to witnesses swung the Louisville Slugger as if he were trying to hit a home run, even sued his car company employer for firing him, alleging discrimination. Chin has become iconic for experiencing in the fatal extreme what ordinary Asian Americans endure daily. As unique as any Asian American may wish to be, we face the same stereotypes and similar threats.
Two generations later, for all the progress in race relations that has been made, anti-Asian violence remains difficult to discuss, seemingly defeating even the most progressive activists. That is not only due to the trauma inflicted on individuals and communities but also owing to the potential for Asian American advocacy for civil rights to be misinterpreted. Yet anti-Asian violence is real. It is pervasive, serious, and recurring, ranging from the common cruelty of childhood bullying to hate crimes which include remorseless homicide. This study is much needed. For the ideals of our diverse democracy beckon the world over as a beacon like no other. We are proud of that exceptionalism. Our ancestors or we ourselves journeyed through great hazards, risking and sacrificing to improve our lives and offer opportunities for our descendants. Only our own efforts, joined to universal appeals of morality, will generate change.
Our nation remains riven by race, after Civil War, Reconstruction, and the struggle for Black equality that culminated in legislation in the 1960s. Against the ongoing #BLM protests and within a context of disparities, white nationalism is resurgent again, overwhelming social media with grievances which devolve into conspiracy theories, about those others who are taking over. Those who are neither black nor white, who perceived as newcomers even if native born (like Latinx), neither benefit from the privileges correlated with majority status nor receive acknowledgement of problems corresponding with minority status. Asian Americans are ambiguous. We are caught “in between.” Despite our shared stake in this society we have embraced, Asian immigrants and their American-born heirs, in some times and places including during the pandemic even in cosmopolitan New York City, feel as if we are exposed to hostility from all quarters, beset by whites, blacks, and even other Asian Americans organized in transnational gangs. Those feelings have a basis in fact. COVID-19 in particular has brought to the surface what bigotry might have been suspected to be lurking underneath, whether prejudice that is suppressed for decency and etiquette or perhaps even bias which is unconscious or halfheartedly renounced. People attacking Asian Americans during the quarantine, motivated by the virus, are not fearing contagion from disease but assigning blame for it. Asian Americans are visited by revenge directed toward a specter, an advanced version of the Yellow Peril, alleged to be culpable for sins ranging from the Vietnam War to an invisible infection. We are guilty by association even if our grandparents lament our alienation from their traditions.
There are many reasons for the omission of Asian Americans from discussions of race and civil rights whether deliberate or negligent. We are regarded as perpetual foreigners who have no standing within the community to hint at an injustice over which others if it were them would be outraged. Or we are assumed to be model minorities who are all doing well. These blend together in the lingering sense that Asians are doing better than we would back where we “really” came from, even if that is one of the many New York City Chinatowns, and implicitly could return to, with good riddance – overseas, as well as in the resentment which becomes racialized based on the erroneous notion that Asian Americans have gained from what others have lost. Asian Americans who stand up and speak out may do so with accents, or, if not, told with surprise, “My, you speak English so well.”
Either way, we are dismissed as irrelevant, the “Johnny come lately” whose case deserves no priority. Even people, including Asian Americans, who learned Chinese workers — 15,000 of them — built the western half of the transcontinental railroad completed in 1869 are not taught anything about the lynchings and mob violence that purged those same laborers from the nation after they had toiled to unite it. The Japanese American internment of World War II may have been mentioned in school, but the government finding based on what was known at the time that it was not justified by military necessity typically is not emphasized.
The evidence, ironically, confirms that Asian Americans hesitate to call out discrimination. We may be reluctant for cultural reasons to raise a fuss. Our elders warn us not to dishonor the family. The admonition is internalized as meaning not revealing you have been a victim, which implies your weakness; and not attracting controversy by complaining, as if you cannot remedy the situation by yourself and without intervention. We are acutely aware of being pushed aside, as figuratively as literally, or mocked for language skills notwithstanding studious practice to imitate self-styled social superiors. We have encountered people whose sympathies are selective even if their rhetoric is about diversity, equity, and inclusion. People introduce their team which they praise for looking like America, and our absence is conspicuous. The more Asian Americans proclaim we belong, the more we provoke those who would insist otherwise. We are expected to smile politely as if we are the guest who ought not offend their host, even if the former’s family has been here longer than the latter’s. So we cannot be sure we will receive the modicum of consideration much less material help even from public officials who were elected to represent all of us. To have suffered is shameful, to bring notice to it more so. The image of Asian Americans is quiet, passive, and docile.
Thus Asian Americans become easy targets. We are reputed to be tourists carrying cash who won’t fight back or even report wrongdoing. When we are targeted for assault, while out and about minding our own business, that means the aggression is not random but racial. Asian Americans also are loathe to admit, though it is true, that we can be perpetrators of misconduct toward other people of color, or bystanders who become complicit since we show scant solicitude for their suffering. Our desire to be safe can prompt us to shy away from others on the basis of assumptions, as strangers on the street at night signal whom we trust and whom we fear. We fail ourselves if we are not our better selves.
It is principled and practical for Asian Americans to pursue civic engagement and bridge building. Asian American identity itself is a coalition. It brings together people whose forebears fought total wars, one after another, with no love lost among them. The theme of “you all look alike,” however, has inspired initially mutual defense on these shores and then what is genuinely “only in America.” To declare “I am Asian American” is to be an optimist.
Asian Americans yearn to make good for America, in America, alongside other Americans, their coworkers and neighbors, who will accept us as we have adapted. The explanation that an Asian can be an American should not be necessary, neither as a defense to atrocities, or at all. To be Asian American is to be American, to express confidence enough in an experiment of self-governance to participate wholeheartedly.
Frank H. Wu is President of Queens College, City University of New York, and author of Yellow: Race in America Beyond Black and White. (Source: Foreword written by Frank H. Wu, A Rising Tide of Hate and Violence against Asian Americans in New York During COVID-19: Impact, Causes, Solutions).
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