It’s not because of the virus, as Covid-19 continues to rage in my home state of California. It is because she is absolutely certain that as an older Asian woman with a limp, she will be the target of violence.
Ever since the horrific news of the Atlanta shootings broke out, I have been trapped in this simmering rage as I watched events from far away here in Hong Kong. I cannot hug my American family and friends. I can only communicate through screens and doom scroll online.
This is the kind of thinking that feeds on the sickening stereotype that Asian Americans are “FULLY FINE” and not the target of racial violence.
How many more members of the community have to be attacked, assaulted or slaughtered for this to be widely recognized?
In February last year, my mom started isolating herself during the outbreak to avoid the comments and looks she got while wearing a mask outside.
She told me on FaceTime with a self-deprecating chuckle, “It’s allergy season too. I’m too scared to sneeze or cough while I’m Asian.”
But the micro-aggressions continued: people coughing in her general direction, one said “you have to be from Wuhan,” another asked, “Why are Asians so paranoid?”
And I dream of being able to teleport my mother here to Asia.
She could wear a mask without being judged.
She could venture into her favorite beef noodle restaurant without fear of being slapped.
She could be left alone and maybe even respected.
But what I picked up to be an “Equalizer” moment of street justice, my mother saw as another tragic example of hatred and discrimination.
She points to the telling details in the video that shows the attacker lying on a stretcher and receiving medical care, while the woman is left alone, screaming and crying, tending to her wounds and trauma.
“I could have been this poor old woman,” my mother says.
And she is absolutely right.