Black Lives Matter

Before the police killed George Floyd, I had shut myself away so I could be free from corona, free from the news, free from the hate Trump incites. But as long as others are suffering, especially those I grew up with—my Black neighbors, Black friends, Black community members—I cannot and should not be free. 

When I first heard about the Black Lives Matter protests in the US, I thought, “Oh dear, the virus is going to spread.” That concern, however, was quickly dispelled by the cries of my birth-country in pain, not induced by the pandemic but by the chronic illness of institutionalized racism. 

Here in Asia, I live amongst an international community. Some of them show support of the protests by attempting to understand them, ask me for my thoughts as an American, and bravely ask questions they worry will sound offensive or ignorant. 

But a handful of others see the protests as black people whining instead of working hard to pull themselves up by their bootstraps as immigrants and poor white people do. They see rioting and say it’s cultural, that it’s in black blood to be violent, and cite numbers for black on black crime. After all, why don’t Asian people smash windows and set churches on fire when they face discrimination? 

Some Chinese people I know look at what’s happening in the States and shake their heads, or laugh (mostly at Trump), and carry on with their belief that China is the safest and most prosperous country in the world. Blinded by the light or not, at least they are proud of the country they’re from. 

Unfortunately for us Americans, we are ashamed of the country we come from. And if we aren’t, we should be ashamed of ourselves. 

The first days following George Floyd’s murder I was confused about what to think and say, but I’ve since deduced that I do not have the right to place an opinion on the matter of the protests, looting, and rioting at all.

Because I am not Black, I do not know and will never know their traumas, and therefore I cannot judge how they react to their suffering. 

One of the most difficult arguments I have encountered negating the protests is that they are orchestrated by authorities (as is the coronavirus pandemic) as part of a grander scheme to destroy humanity so that the wealthy and powerful can continue to grow in wealth and power. 

To me, this point of view is worse than straightforward White Supremacy because it denies the legitimacy of the protests, which is to disregard and deny the suffering, traumas, history, and voices of Black people, something we have been doing throughout time. 

As opposed to White Supremacists, these conspiracy theorists believe that all races are equal—they don’t see color—and simultaneously believe racism is fabricated. This is a dangerous group because this is the group that either stays silent or plays devil’s advocate in the fight for justice and equality, perpetuating the cycle of racism. 

Colorblindness has been a genius way of masking systemic racism. We should not be fooled by the justification that to see difference in color, to see ourselves as black or white, is to associate inferiority or supremacy to color.

The folks at the bottom are not the ones who associate inferiority or supremacy to color. No, those are the folks at the top who set the terms that lift white men up and hold Black women down. And we, the rest of us, internalize it. 

White men and Black women know full well where they stand in the hierarchy. It’s us, the ones in between, who have to step up to help shift the status quo, to flatten a different kind of curve. 

Being far from the States, I’m feeling pretty helpless in this fight for racial justice and equality. On the one hand, I wish I could march alongside Black Lives Matter protestors and be part of this momentous period in history. On the other hand, I am relieved to be away from it all. 

My distance is not an excuse to stay silent, though. Staying silent now would be like watching a burning building full of people crumble to the ground with a bowl of popcorn on my lap.

Had history been written differently, it could be me, or you, in that building. Would anyone be there to help?