March 31, 2021
It’s day 3 of the Derek Chauvin Murder Trial and George Floyd’s name remains a symbolic echo, his body and last breaths remain a symbolic image of historical and current day institutionalized and social control of Black men, and his life includes symbolic memories in various forms for those who knew him and didn’t.
It’s also another day of highlighting the ongoing violent attacks on Asian Pacific Islanders and conversations on building community solidarity. In fact, I just closed the window for Hella Heart Oakland Giving Circle’s live Facebook discussion on “What’s Going On: The Past, Present, and Future of Black Asian Relations.”
Today also entailed my frequent trips to medical offices with and for my uncle. He lives in 94601— the zip code designated by the Bay Area Quality Management District as one of the most polluted, where majority are non-white, an area disproportionately affected by COVID-19, and where sideshows stain their controversial art on the already-cracked pavements. After 3 hours of medical visits and playing both the interpreter and caregiver roles, I felt drained but knew this was a relaxing day in contrast to my normal routine.
What was it then? Was it that I woke up to a nightmare of being dragged by a bus driver because I’m Asian after watching an unnerving clip of a 65 year old Filipina woman attacked in NYC the previous night? Was it a 3 hour meeting of extremely detailed content at work? Was it the defeating news I received about my uncle’s prognosis or the reminder of his cognitive and physical disabilities every time I see him?
It’s probably all of the above and more. Not even a block down, I realized my uncle didn’t have his mask on and asked if he had it on him somewhere. He didn’t. I pulled over, got out the car to see if I had an extra one for him in the back. What a relief — there’s a bag full of medical masks. As I hopped back into the driver’s seat, the sirens went off. I looked up and 12 feet away, a black SUV got cornered by 3 different police vehicles and a motorcycle. A second later, all policemen in sight drew their guns.
My mind moved so slow but my immediate reaction was to get the fuck out of there so that we’re not stuck in a shoot-out. I sensed the onset of frustration for my slow physical motions while simultaneously concerned for my uncle’s safety. As I busted a U-turn, the police yelled, “Get out of there! Who are you?!” A Black man, with his hands up, came out the car. Something wasn’t right about the police.
At that moment, I knew my rearview mirror was a gift but also my enemy. Fixating on the entire frame, I could see the interactions behind me and debated if I should pullover again to record the encounter while praying it won’t become fatal. Shifting my vision, I saw myself. While pressing on the gas pedal, I knew I made a choice.
I came home drained today because my body was responding to a multitude of events, thoughts, and emotions that occurred within a 12 hour period. This included an interpersonal conflict between values and practice. This included reflections on what it truly means to be in solidarity when Black lives are on the line, on being Asian, on being in East Oakland and on navigating safety when I’m with a dependent. This includes gained awareness on how experiences continue to move throughout my body despite time limitations.
I don’t have answers but I end on thoughts of what happened to George Floyd and really commending the now 19 year old Black woman who filmed the entire ordeal and is now testifying in a murder trial.
