tiger kings and tiger mothers

I’m finally ready to talk about Atlanta

It took me a while to find the words for this, but here it is. It was difficult to find something to say that hadn’t already been said, mostly because we keep saying the same things over and over. And that’s exactly the point. I’d planned to write something for Asian Pacific American Heritage Month this year, but we deserve recognition beyond just one month, especially after what happened in Atlanta.

This is the second time a mass shooting has felt personal to me. But this time, instead of being relieved that it wasn’t me, I felt guilt because there’s almost no way it could’ve been me. I struggled with whether or not to even write this, because the truth is that I will likely never understand what it’s like to live in imminent danger every day of my life, because after witnessing the collective grief and rage of last summer it felt insensitive to advocate for our own protection. But that’s also the reason I felt compelled to write this — because while I’m hesitant to speak on behalf of the Asian community, I am viewed as its unwitting representative almost every time I walk into a room.

We are always waiting for permission to be upset, always waiting for it to be the “right time,” after crises and wars and protests and scandals and insurrections. We’re told that “Asian Lives Matter” and “Asians for Black Lives” are insensitive because it centers us too much, co-opting the Black Lives Matter movement without acknowledging that it is rooted in…