An Ugly Truth: AAPI Violence and the Call for Anti-Racism

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Written By Kristian Contreras

It feels bizarre to reflect on nearly a decade long career in diversity, equity, and inclusion work. I find myself mulling over these terms because it feels like a betrayal of sorts to admit that these words are empty. I’ve long since learned to turn away from institutions and towards community when it comes to movement building and reimagining what a better world can look like- can feel like.

I’m writing this bleary eyed with days old mascara after a long night with my friend Robin Maxile discussing how our institution(s) and departments fail us. How promises of inclusion and solidarity fall short in the face of multicultural bureaucracy and the siren call of complicity. Especially today, as email upon email and social media (re)posts assert the dire need to stop anti-Asian racism and violence flood our inboxes/timelines.

I worked to write a letter of support and share resources to our departmental community in response to the March 16th massacre in Atlanta, GA USA that claimed the lives of 8 people and left one person injured. We needed to name and interrogate how pernicious layers of racism, misogyny, xenophobia, classism, and the violence that melds the linkages between other interlocking layers of oppression motivate white supremacist terrorists like Robert Aaron Long. To name that 6 of those murdered are Asian women, that since March of 2020 we’ve seen a surge in anti-Asian hate crimes and social rhetoric. To tell the truth about a nation so deeply invested in this violence and pain.

I say all this, still bedraggled by lack of sleep and frustration, with the understanding that my parents and those gas station magnets taught me "if you don’t have something nice to say, then don’t say anything at all". But today, I find myself wondering why

not? Who, and what, am I protecting when I keep my criticisms to myself? Why must we sacrifice our comforts to protect these institutions that tout these words - diversity, equity, solidarity, inclusion, community, etc. - without substantive follow through? Without financial investments, shifts in leadership and resources, and meaningful long term commitments to a fractured campus community? Because they mean nothing when the very infrastructure, policies, practices, and functions of these places thrive through the exploitation and subordination of those of us on the margins.

Why is it, that in my three years working on this degree, that my department- one that claims to work from a Decolonial and anti-Imperialist framework (one of many) - has yet to address concerns raised about the anti-Black and racist treatment of students, the daily micro/macro aggressions that dehumanize our Trans and Gender Non-Conforming students, the overall erasure of ESL graduate students in our classrooms, and our exploitation as workers for this campus, among a longer list of inequities.

Why is it that it’s normative to remain silent, privately and publicly, as we are reeling from yet another vitriolic attack against the Asian American & Pacific Islander community? What does solidarity look like at a post secondary institution that continues to conflate “Asian” with “international”? What can the words “diversity”, “equity”, and “inclusion” truly mean in an environment that celebrates symbolism of difference over the substance of equity?

I read a post from my former job that reads “while we do not yet know the motive, we must acknowledge that the violent acts of yesterday took eight lives, including six Asian women. Now, more thang ever, we must work to denounce racism and misogyny” and I was (and still am) flummoxed. This is one example that illuminates how these words - these claims of solidarity, support, and call for anti-racist work- mean nothing, are deeply empty when juxtaposed with “while we do not yet know the motive” - because in the words of activist and organizer Raquel Willis, we KNOW that “a White supremacist system will jump at any chance to rule out White supremacy as the problem.” We know. We know that this rhetoric around the vilification of exoticized sex workers is one layer among many, of White supremacy. We know the hollowness of echoing silence in the face of racist jokes, the confident dismissive Ed of faculty who find Asian American names too difficult to pronounce while taking attendance, and the brazen racism of anti-Asian Tik Toks and comedy sketches. We know that the legacy of colonialism and White supremacy undergird the violence that claim the lives of 8 people, while there is little information about each of the victims, we must uplift the lives and memories of the 6 identified people - Delaina Ashley Yaun, Paul Andre Michels, Xiaojie Tan, Daoyou Feng, Julie Park, and Hyeon Jeong Park.

I don’t have many nice things to say. I’m not inclined to protect my department (faculty and students alike) or the institutions I’ve worked at or learned from. I’m not invested in the niceties that obscure the roots of White supremacy that lay at the foundation of this prestigious settler colonial university. I no longer think it’s a “risk” to my career to state that the majority of my colleagues at Agnes Scott perpetuated and benefited from anti-Black racism and misogynoir- that despite the incredible love I have for the students I worked with, it was the bevy of White and non-Black women who made the work difficult - the same folks posting and re-sharing hopes for an anti-racist world.

I share this because it is too often that we are enamored with education - it’s promise for possibilities and empowerment- and the institutions that serve as a conduit to fulfilling those promises. I share this because "words mean things" and we must be clear and committed when we claim solidarity. Especially as we know that the violence we are seeing is only one output from the daily interpersonal and systemic oppression that directly targets Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders in the United States of America. Dr. Jennifer Ho of Colorado University, Boulder reminds us that American history continues to “flatten” the rich ethnic particularities of different Asian cultures and identities; this erasure exacerbates the vilified positioning of Asian Americans as “perpetual foreigners” exempt from the American dream.

I left a DEI position I loved - one I shaped for myself, got lost in, grew through. Working as a diversity, equity, and inclusion educator has fortified a backbone of steel and sharpened my curiosity so that I may ask different questions instead of find comfort in easy answers. I left a position that challenged me deeply to pursue a doctorate in Cultural Foundations of Education. I daydreamed about new possibilities, an expanding lexicon, and the confidence that would one day come with memorized citations and the ability to finally articulate what neoliberalism means. I thought, naively, that knowing *more* would make it easier to confront racism. That I would find the support both in the classroom and across the field, that would make this work less lonely. That I would be less afraid.

Yet there is no one perfect course, no one perfect university, or assigned reading that will make fighting injustice easier- that will make accountability a choice I never hesitate in making.

I turn to the examples of activist Grace Lee Boggs, whose legacy of over 70 years of movement building, help make space for action alongside this grief - “You don't choose the times you live in, but you do choose who you want to be, and you do choose how you want to think.” - and that of the indomitable poet and luminary Audre Lorde, who reminds us that “your silence will not protect you”. In these harrowing times, may we choose to always speak up. May we choose courage.

These beautiful digital illustrations featured were designed by Amanda Phingbodhipakkiya. You can explore her incredible art here: https://www.alonglastname.com/

Kristian Contreras

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