As a woman of color of East Asian descent and a child of immigrants, I have been troubled by the nationwide rise of Asian hate crime during the pandemic. The recent attack of Vilma Kari, a 65-year-old Filipino woman, in Midtown Manhattan was especially alarming for the raw violence of her attacker and the indifference of onlookers. The incident painfully reminds me of a crime that was committed upon me almost 30 years ago, when I was mugged in front of the main entrance of a doorman building. Similarly, the doorman didn’t call 911 from their desk. Instead, he walked onto the sidewalk to watch, then walked back inside when it was over. Thankfully, they let me use the phone to call on my own behalf, and my assailant was apprehended within minutes.
Unlike last Monday’s attack, my attack was not a hate crime. It was a crime of opportunity. Although shaken, my sense of self and my sense of safety remained intact. I was not targeted for who I am. I am grateful for that. Still, the doorman’s inaction felt like a negation of my humanity: I was not a building resident. I was not part of their community, so I did not matter. I was excluded, outside of their purview, and treated without any regard. I recall that immediately following the attack, while still in shock, feeling angry about my attack and at the attacker, but also deeply upset by the inaction of the doorman.
The assault of Kari was both racist and exclusionary. In this regard, it was truly heinous. The assailant beat the victim, while shouting, “F–k you! You don’t belong here!” Adding insult to injury, the doorman closed the door on her, communicating through his actions, “You do not belong here either.” Racism is bigotry, while exclusion is a denial of access. They are different but frequently intersect. The net effects of racism and exclusion are similar: Both cast the victim as the unworthy other. Both marginalize, devalue and dehumanize.
Unfortunately, Asians are often but wrongly viewed as provisional Americans. There is a long history of racism and exclusion, beginning with West Coast Gold-Rush-era anti-Chinese state and municipal laws that were followed by national laws shortly thereafter. The first federal restriction on immigration — of any ethnic group — was the Page Act of 1875, which specifically prohibited the immigration of Chinese prostitutes, but was used to limit the immigration of all women from China. Coupled with widely prevalent anti-miscegenation laws, the Page Act impeded the creation of families and full integration into American life.
Five years later, the Angell Treaty of 1880 regulated immigration of both skilled and unskilled labor from China and set the foundation for the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which prohibited immigration and barred naturalization. Although initially directed towards the Chinese, these laws were extended to ban other immigrant groups from East Asia, South Asia, and Southeast Asia, including the Japanese, Indians, Filipinos, Malays and Koreans. Despite numerous challenges in the court, the Chinese Exclusion Act was not repealed until 1943 and only fully abolished with the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952. These laws helped to create the lingering, negative stereotype of the perpetual foreigner, whose citizenship and national allegiance is open to question.
Anxiety over the pandemic has summoned the old trope of the Yellow Peril. Within the last year, there were nearly 3,800 reported incidents, according to advocacy group Stop AAPI Hate. To address the rise of racist attacks in the nation’s largest city, the NYPD formed its first Asian Hate Crime Task Force in August 2020. Two weeks ago in Ohio, during an unplanned speech to denounce anti-Asian violence and to prove his patriotism during a town meeting, Lee Wong, who serves as the elected chair of the board of trustees of the township of West Chester, stood up and removed his jacket, tie and shirt to expose a long wound across his chest and upper torso that he sustained as an active-duty U.S. Army serviceman of 20 years. Wong then implored, “Prejudice is hate, and that hate can be changed. We are human. We need to be kinder, gentler to one another. Because we are all the same. We are one human being on this Earth.”
Wong’s words appeal to our common humanity. Articles 1 and 3 of the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights respectively state, “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights,” and “Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person.” Within a civil society, we should care when a person is harmed or injured in our presence, whether by accident or crime, even if they are a stranger, regardless of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation or class.
Inaction is inexcusable. Embedded within the maxim “If you see something, say something” is our shared responsibility to each other as a community. We live in a city and a nation whose greatest asset, strength and beauty is our diversity. Let’s work to achieve, safeguard and celebrate the inclusive American ideal: E pluribus unum.
Shum is an arts executive and curator of contemporary art and architecture.
