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At a pre-COVID dinner party, a friend started telling me how one of his male buddies had always had “Asian Fever” and how I would have been the perfect target of his attentions. I believe he meant this as a compliment. While the comment had made me angry and uncomfortable then, I didn’t confront him about it. I didn’t point out how this was the first time in the 30-plus years since I had moved to Ohio that someone had said something so racist to me. This was a sign of his deeper beliefs, so for this and many similar reasons, we are no longer friends. 

After the recent shooting deaths of eight people in Atlanta, six of Asian descent, the dinner party incident haunts me. In Atlanta, the killer’s motives were self-described as “sex addiction,” not racism. Certainly, it couldn’t be both, could it? For most Asian American women, racism and sexism in this country have always been inextricably intertwined. 

In the United States, there’s a long history of sexual stereotypes of Asian women. We are portrayed as exotic and submissive, or manipulative and fire-breathing – all leading to the fetishization that encourages men to strip us of any individuality. This is also reinforced in pop culture.  Who hasn’t heard the catcall, “Me so horny. Me love you long time.” This phrase from the movie "Full Metal Jacket" has been heard too many times by too many Asian American women. There is an American male fantasy of entitlement toward Asian women long fueled in this country.

As a teen growing up in New York City, I heard more than my share of unwanted cooing from strange men. My mother, for a time, worked as a hostess at a restaurant and she told me stories of men giving her copies of their hotel room keys. She told me when I was much older, and she never told my father. I’m sure every Asian woman in this country has a similar story.

But when I moved to Ohio many years ago, first to attend college at Kent State University, then to work in various advertising jobs, I never experienced any of that until the night of that dinner party.  Don’t get me wrong. As one of the only female creatives in the male-dominated world of advertising, I had my share of sexism directed at me.  And maybe some of it had racial undertones. But usually, it was squarely directed at being a “chick”.  “What does a woman know about hot melt equipment?” often said with disdain.  

I also think that not being confronted with blatant racism has much to do with me being part of the “model minority” myth. I’m not a threat to my white neighbors the way my Black or Latino friends would be.

Since 2020, hate crimes against the Asian American community have risen more than 150% in America (source: https://stopaapihate.org/). You can put the blame on a lot of things. I put it squarely on our last president. When Trump first started using xenophobic language to blame China for the coronavirus, I worried that it could lead to a country of frustrated people taking their anger out on anybody who looked Chinese. Now my news feed is full of images of elderly men and women being slammed down in the streets while walking. People being randomly punched in the face and spit on. And in all the reported incidents, women are targeted vastly more than men.

In the bucolic Ohio bubble I live in, I’ve never worried about my safety. I used to be the paranoid New Yorker, uncomfortable unless there were triple deadbolts on the door. Over the years I got used to leaving my car unlocked in the garage. Walking in the woods at night.

But now it feels different. Now, I am keenly aware of who is around me in the parking lot. Now, I immediately lock the doors once I’m in my car. Now, I don’t leave the house without a can of mace. I used to take my two dogs for hikes in the nearby national park, where you can pick a trail and almost never see another person. Now, I don’t feel safe to do that without my husband. Even though Ohio ranks 18^th on the list of states reporting hate incidents in the past year, I am still nervous. 

Through all this, I find some hope. One immensely encouraging thing I see is the support of the larger Asian community to speak up and come together. Because we are such a diverse population, this unity hasn’t happened before in American history. But now, Japanese, Indian, Chinese, Cambodian, Korean, Filipino and more voices are speaking up to #stopasianhate. I’m also heartened by the many allies speaking up from Black and Latino communities. Building these bridges is critical to changing the structural confines of racism that are causing so many inequities in this country.

I also know that my voice matters and that it can be very loud and very clear. So, the next time I am confronted with racism, sexism or xenophobia by a friend or otherwise, I will not hesitate to speak up, speak out and, hopefully, create some understanding and empathy. And short of that, just set the record straight.