Honouring Our Grief and Woundedness
When what felt unsayable is beginning to be said
Trigger Warning: Mentions of gun violence, white supremacy, racial misogyny, and grief.
Nearly two weeks ago, on March 16th 2021, a white supremacist went to three different Asian massage parlours in GA and killed eight people, six of them Asian women. I am not going to include their names in this newsletter because all of their respective families have not given public consent for the sharing of their names.
The speculation of the murderer’s intentions seemed to be at the forefront of the media whirlwind coverage of this tragedy. I assume this was for the comfort of white people and to cushion the shallows of white guilt. Whatever. I am not going to waste any more time centering whiteness. This is not why I write.
Eight angels’ spirits have ascended their physical bodies too soon. This was a targeted act of violence against Asian migrant women who dedicate their time to providing comfort, body, and movement work. Whether the women who were working at the massage parlour were/identified as sex workers or not, they were still stigmatised with the evil hands of sexualised violence and racial misogyny that continuously endangers sex workers today.
I attended the virtual vigil held by Red Canary Song that featured a group of Asian organizations such as Butterfly, Asian American Feminist Collective, 18 Million Rising, and more. I could not stop thinking about what Kai Lin Zhang, one of the co-founders of Red Canary Song, said about the tragedy, and specifically, violence against Asian sex workers. I was on the road while listening to the speakers mourn, so I could not write down the quote verbatim and do not wish to butcher her words, so I will write down what I learned:
These churchgoing white men often cannot deal with their own shame and self-hatred that derive from their “sinful desire”. They don’t know how to process their emotions and fantasies, and therefore take it out on the folks who involuntarily live in their distorted and projected shames. Asian women, non-binary and trans people SHOULD NOT BE the receivers of a man’s self-hatred, shame, and confusion. Women, non-binary and trans people of colour are not scapegoats for the emotions and desires that men have an incapacity to process. Unfortunately, I know very well how that feels. Does this experience sound familiar to you?
—
All that has felt unsayable in my life feels like it’s beginning to be said.
I am unraveling a lifetime of sexual fetishization and infantilization that my mother, my grandmothers, my ancestors, and my friends have all been subjected to. My WOC and QTPOC siblings have also been uncovering a lot in the last few weeks. We are all hurting and unraveling. We are finding a language for something that feels like it’s been silenced for centuries, so excuse me while I try to find the right words for what is inherently wrong.
I am fuming, and my rage is directly linked to my survivor-hood. I am a survivor of emotional and sexual abuse. I am thinking about all the times I was followed home as a child, a teenager, and an adult. I’m thinking of all the countless times I’ve been referred to as “animé girl”, and how many men have told me how surprisingly attractive they think Asian women are, expecting me to lovingly receive this “compliment”. I recall the times people have yelled, “ni hao” and taunted me about happy endings. I think about being tormented and targeted by men who have projected their flattened, two-dimensional ideas of my Asian femininity, onto me, expecting me to be grateful for their desire.
I AM SEETHING. I think of my previous relationships and how I have had to ask every non-Asian person I have dated how many Asian people they have been with before me, to ensure that I was not a part of an ongoing cycle of fetishisation (and surprise! I usually am!). I think about voicing these concerns to partners and being gaslit and told to get over it; an active silencing. I think about internalizing all of this inherited self-hatred and projecting them into feelings of jealousy and insecurity, competing in some imaginary and cruel rat race with fellow Asian people, just to feel desired. What is that desire when hollow and obtuse? What kind of scarcity mindset have I inherited that has caused me to perceive true love as these crumbs and morsels of a fattening fetish?
In Anne Anlin Cheng’s book “Ornamentalism”, she describes how Western Imperialism has shaped the perception of Asian femininity:
“We know by now that Asiatic femininity in the Western racial imagination has never needed the biological or the natural to achieve a full, sensorial, agile, and vivid presence. Asiatic femininity has always been prosthetic. The dream of the yellow woman subsumes a dream about the inorganic. She is an, if not the, original cyborg.”
Our perceived identity has been comprised of pieces and parts of the mechanised masculine imagination. To these men, our bodies do not matter; or they enact as ornamental pieces propped up for display, decoration, and servitude. It is becoming clearer to me that Asian people affected by misogyny are treated as objects, items, trinkets, and accessories to the fullness of manhood.
I am not grateful for a man’s obtuse desire. I am grateful for women, queer, GNC, trans people of colour who I send warm hugs to from afar. I am grateful for my friends, for grassroots organising, for Black feminist writers who have laid the groundwork for ALL movement work, for Black and Asian solidarity, for Red Canary Song, for sex workers, for migrant workers, for bodyworkers, for Grace Lee Boggs, and for my mother.
—
I have always been afraid of my own anger because I’ve associated it with the violence that ripples through my childhood memory. Lately, however, I have been harnessing my rage.
Lama Rod Owens, author of Love and Rage: The Path of Liberation Through Anger, said in an interview on the For the Wild Podcast, that “anger is the bodyguard of our woundedness”.
I think about it all the time.
Our woundedness reveals our softness, and our softness is worthy of protection. Our wounds are open right now, and it feels like a transformative time to tend to each other’s wounds, learn of each other’s hurt, and find language for the pain that may have been neglected before.
There is a reason I am so triggered, and so angry in my mourning. It is because all of these things are connected to the violence that lead to the killing of these eight people, especially the six Asian migrant worker women. The core of this violence is the racial misogyny that rots at the center of the racist misogynist’s shame. I also believe that many men are complicit in this and continue to perpetuate the core of this violence. Do fucking better.
Now that what is unsayable is finally being said, and although the English language that was forced onto so many of our ancestors is failing us, we will still find our way. All these words seem to avalanche into the crevices of my mouth; this has been happening for as long as I can remember, and those memories can no longer afford to be suppressed. It is not that I do not have the words, it’s just that I don’t know where to start…so this feels like a humble beginning.
—
To my fellow survivors who have been affected by racial misogyny:
You deserve unconditional love that is full and flowering for your whole and spacious abundance. Do not allow the flattened perceptions of your beauty to affect how you see yourself. You should not have to experience suspicion or skepticism of somebody else’s desire. You are not bits and pieces of somebody else’s projected fetishistic fantasies. You deserve to mourn however you wish, and to use your rage as a sacred protector. Find the words, in spite of the failures of the English language, or be as quiet and still as you need to be. Take the space you need, and take up the space that you have been told to shrink yourself in.
The Libra Full Moon is here, and I encourage you to light a candle for the eight angels who illuminate our hearts. Send well wishes and love to the families of the victims, and remember that the light works through you.
—
PS. I don’t want to have to address white people directly, but now I share a specific message I wish to say to you. I know a lot of you subscribe to my newsletter (for free…) and I need you to read this carefully:
Do not ask BIPOC for labour during their PERPETUAL grieving (or ever, actually). Keep reading about the history and effects of Western imperialism and colonisation and ORGANISE with the systemic and generational privileges you hold to end white supremacy, end racial misogyny, and repair for the acts of violence caused. Sponsor therapy for BIPOC and continuously redistribute your wealth to the BIPOC who educate you in your work towards allyship. If you enjoy my writings and learn anything from me, please send funds to the families of the victims of the Atlanta shooting. They are listed below. Be committed to dismantling these systems of Western imperialism beyond performative allyship. Thank you.
GOFUNDMES TO SUPPORT (they are all verified!)
Fundraiser for Xiaojie Emily Tan’s daughter Ying Tan Jami Webb.
https://www.gofundme.com/f/atl-spa-shooting-family-survivor-fund-jami-webb
Memorial for Yong Yue and Peterson Family, organised by her son:
In Loving Memory of Sun Cha Kim, organised by her granddaughter’s friend:
In Loving Memory of Hyun Jung Kim, organised by her sons:
To Help Elcias Hernandez Ortiz’s Recovery, organised by his wife:
To Help Survivor Marcus Lyon’s Recovery:
In Loving Memory of Paul Michels, organised by his wife’s co-worker:
Funeral and Family Support for Delain Ashley Yaun, organised by her family:
ORGANISATIONS TO SUPPORT
THINGS TO WATCH / LISTEN TO / READ:
A Conversation Between Grace Lee Boggs and Dr. Angela Y. Davis
Anti-Asian Violence and Black and Asian Solidarity Today, A Lecture Presented by Tamara K. Nopper at Asian American Writer’s Workshop
Why This Wave of Anti-Asian Racism Feels Different by Cathy Park Hong
PLAYLIST:
A small gift for my healing survivors of colour. A playlist of moving music by artists from the abundant and beautiful Asian diaspora. Title based on the song “The Moon Represents my Heart” by Teresa Teng.
thank you