The subtle racism of Seattle's 'trusted institutions' continues to impact our kids

By Matt Halvorson

Have you seen the videos? They’re beyond awful, of course.

The New York Times reported last week on the growing number of attacks on people of Asian descent, finding more than 110 incidents covered in the media in the past year alone that included “clear evidence of race-based hate.”

We’re talking about people of all ages being accosted in broad daylight. Elderly people being murdered. Asian folks being assaulted as they walk down the street, spit on, cursed at and blamed for a global pandemic.

Sadly, it isn’t anything new. As with the more publicly captured murders of Black Americans in the last five years, the increase in violence against Asian Americans is yet another reminder that hate and race-based violence are all too real and all too present.

We are left to wonder how many more incidents have gone unreported — and what we can do as individuals to stem this rising tide.

One of the most insidious parts, as it sadly often is, is how close this hits to home, even for those of us whose families aren't Asian American. One of the kiddos our family loves the most, one of our oldest son's best friends, was called "China Virus" while playing third base in his Little League game a couple weeks ago. In the “progressive” Queen Anne neighborhood of “progressive” Seattle.

No one else heard, so he had to bear the burden on his own in the moment, as most victims do. When he finally disclosed what had happened, some of the adults in his life responded with questions about why he hadn't done more or said something, as if this was a typical instance of bullying. Well-intentioned though it might be, silence and blaming the victim are, in cases like this, themselves forms of violence.

This big kid / young man’s life will never be the same. Not because he isn't an incredibly strong, resilient, intelligent, capable young person. Not because he won’t overcome this incident. But because he and his mother finally had to have a version of “The Talk” that we had to have with our oldest son years ago. Racism, police violence and personal safety have since remained painfully at the center of an ongoing conversation.

If he knew his family was at risk before, our young friend now feels it on a visceral level. If he knew before that he could be targeted, he understands now that he will almost certainly be targeted again. I just wish it didn't have to be a part of his and his families' reality, as it is for our family. When will this end?

But wait — usually, that ends up being a rhetorical question, like with the back of a hand against a flustered forehead. “Lordy, Lordy! Think of the children! Will this never end?”

Instead of fanning our flushed cheeks and wondering, let’s instead make that a real question — one that demands an answer. When will this end?

Truthfully, it won’t happen anytime soon — not unless we make some wholesale social changes in a heartbeat — because this is only the latest chapter in a generations-old story. And so it’s up to us to drive that change with urgency, to hold our communities, government, and leaders accountable, and to do what we can to keep each other safe, both physically and emotionally.

The increase in physical violence against Asian Americans is not a mysterious aberration. It’s the result of hateful rhetoric from our last President, among others. It’s part of a history of anti-Asian racism and violence that is too often overlooked or minimized. And it’s also being made possible by insensitive, dehumanizing language that has been normalized.

“At a micro or interpersonal level, labels can make an individual feel self-conscious, stigmatized, tokenized, silenced, or even excluded from certain spaces,” writes Hannah Joy Sachs for Humanity in Action. “At a macro level, labels can be catastrophic.”

Take this sign, hanging casually in a Swedish Hospital health facility, perpetuating dangerous stereotypes during a time of such specific violence.

"Novel coronavirus (COVID-19) is a new virus strain spreading from person-to-person in China and other countries, including the United States,” reads the sign’s first paragraph. “In some instances, cases outside of China have been associated with travelers from China. Health experts are concerned because little is known about the new virus and it has the potential to cause severe illness and pneumonia in some people.”

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I know what you’re thinking. It’s outdated, you’ll say. Just old information — no harm intended. That this language and information was critical one year ago. But is that really true?

Actually, no. That knee-jerk reaction, which I also had, is just an example of our perpetual rush to find reasons why racism isn’t really racism. Now, during a time of such specific violence, we have a responsibility to be even more vigilant than usual. If we find ourselves justifying this, thinking that there was a very brief window of time when it may have seemed relevant, then we need to catch ourselves and know that we’re wrong.

And besides, mentioning China as the source of the virus, associating the spread with Chinese travelers — none of this was ever relevant in a cancer center bathroom. It was not particularly accurate, because it was worth mentioning Italy in any conversation about travel and COVID hot spots by the time the virus had enough of a foothold in the U.S. to warrant signs in restrooms.

And besides that, the World Health Organization prohibited years ago the naming of new diseases after places, people, or cultures in an effort to avoid exactly this kind of racist outcome:

“In 2015, the World Health Organization (WHO) created a set of guidelines that prohibited new infectious diseases from being labeled—among other things—based on geographic locations, individuals, cultures, or ethnic populations in their official names,” wrote Sachs. “This followed an outcry after Ebola earned its name after a river and MERS after a geopolitical region since initial cases were traced to those areas. The WHO’s aim was to avoid unintended consequences or negative sentiments directed towards specific groups of people, as seen throughout history. Despite this, mainstream media outlets have frequently referred to the novel COVID-19 coronavirus as the ‘Wuhan Coronavirus.’ President Trump has called it the 'Chinese Virus' multiple times; one photographer even captured “corona” crossed out and replaced with “Chinese” on an official speech transcript. He subsequently defended his word choice as “being accurate.” Other reports allege a senior official from the Trump administration referred to the virus as Kung Flu, a hashtag that subsequently was tweeted hundreds of thousands of times. Trump Jr. also posted a Kung Flu Kid meme on Instagram."

This narrative is nothing new and has always led to deadly results. We should have seen this coming. At the very least, the institutions whose salaries and expenses are paid by the people should have followed the spirit of the international guidelines from the start. They should have known better. Taking these signs down is not enough. Especially for an institution that claims to be committed to equity and anti-racism. It is critical that King County acknowledge the harm that these signs have done and engage in a process of atonement and repair.

This sign is sadly not unique, nor is our young friend’s experience on the diamond. If you or people in your life have experienced anti-Asian violence, or if you have witnessed things that are contributing to violence and harm, consider sharing the story. Visibility, acknowledgement, accountability, and healing are critical. Report a hate incident at stopaapihate.org.

I know that I, for one, have been guilty of often overlooking or minimizing the shameful history of violent racism and prejudice against people of Asian descent — a history that is directly connected to the dangerous present moment we’re living through.  

Just as we have had friends, family and community members surround my multi-racial family when instances of anti-Black racism have rocked our headlines and harmed our communities, we stand now with our Asian American friends, families, and community members to ensure that the violence (emotional and physical) stops immediately. Our humanity and collective liberation is tied up together. Until all young people are safe from these kinds of attacks, none of our young people are safe. Until elders like the couple in Tacoma are safe, none of our elders are safe. It is critical that all of our institutions interrogate their own anti-Asian sentiments and the ways in which they have perpetuated this violence. If not now, when?