Before Speaking: An Evaluation of Intentions

Black activism has been prominent for years, but it seems that Asian Americans are spotlighting the urgency of addressing racism and anti-Blackness within their community now more than ever. As an Asian American and a non-Black person of color, I am unqualified to understand, let alone speak to, the intricacies of the Black identity and the experiences that come with it. I understand that I will always be unqualified. However, I do acknowledge my responsibility of not only addressing uncomfortable topics in my spheres of influence, but also assessing my own intentions before speaking. I share this piece on my personal experience reflecting on intentions and conversing about implicit biases.  

A Self-Examination in Retrospect

Ironically, I struggle with accepting the fact that I struggle. When I publicly reflect on a challenging encounter, I tend to do so only to highlight my journey in overcoming the obstacle. That is a flaw I am still wrestling with: my contempt towards imperfection and exposing any sliver of weakness. But I have to admit that this was a difficult, type-a-word-only-to-delete-it piece to write.

Perhaps that is why I try to avoid voicing discomfort at all costs, even at the expense of internal miscommunication. Perhaps that is why I am condescending towards the generations of my people before me, assuming that they are as unaware as my implicit biases suggest. Perhaps that is why I think I am always right, and that it’s always my stage to run my show. But I am wrong. It’s really not about me.

To Be Necessarily Wrong

This came as a shock to my stubborn self when I resolved to sit down and speak with my parents about racism and anti-Blackness in this country. I really thought that I knew it all: I read the Medium articles gaining traction on social media that discussed how Asians perpetuate anti-Blackness and how Asians can support the Black community; I flicked through guides on “talking to your Asian family about racism and anti-Blackness”; I researched about the general history of how Asian-American activism has been influenced by Black activism; I knew terms like “Yellow Peril” and “model minority myth.” Yes, I knew that these actions could be helpful in preparing to converse with only some, but not all, Asian-American families. I knew that carrying out these actions would not be a one-size-fits-all deal. I knew that this would be uncomfortable. 

Nonetheless, I somehow expected a formulaic one-hour conversation structured like a virtual forum on a topic that has not been fully resolved for many, many years. The issue was that because I thought that I knew it all, I thought that I was right. Because I thought that I was right, I expected this to be an easy, albeit uncomfortable, conversation to have. Because I expected a straightforward conversation, I failed to realize that I was actually prepared to talk but not to listen.

This did not take one hour, as I had hoped. In my newly adopted diet of history facts and sociocultural arguments, I did not notice how much of my intake critically undermined the value of actively listening to what my parents had to say, and that is my fault. I had outlined my script like a persuasive essay with no counter, thinking that it would still play out as a mutual, organic conversation. I had yet to start pointing my fingers at the inaction of Asian Americans, but my parents expressed that they pray for the Black community and the protesters, provide what they can for the cause, and understand the intentions of the ongoing protests. I had yet to bring up the 1992 riots in Los Angeles, CA, but I learned that in the South Korean democracy movement of the 1980s, a close relative of ours was tear-gassed during a student protest and suffered so much from the resulting trauma that she ended up taking her own life. I had yet to point out all the socioeconomic discrepancies as a result of systemic racism, but they told me that the greater enemy is hateful pride. 

Hateful pride.

Many of us have that. Even across cultures and throughout time, anything from small disputes to large-scale wars have stemmed from this aspect of humanity. The Black Lives Matter movement is important; it is a necessary fight against the inherent flaws in the structure of our society. But this is not to be fought in the United States alone. Systemic racism is not the only form of hateful pride. So long as hateful pride has made its mark in the world, there is much to be done to combat it.

A small step to take is to tackle that hateful pride when conversing with your family. My struggle with accepting the fact that I struggle? My false mindset that my opinion was correct? My preparation to antagonize what I thought my parents believed in? There was hateful pride in my intentions: to think that because they speak English with an accent they somehow have a diminished understanding of current events; to think that because I was educated by the American education system I somehow have a deeper understanding of the world; to think that because I was preparing to win the conversation they somehow didn’t have a voice anymore. Did I really think that I was above “prejudice” and “discrimination”? Did I really believe that I was an empathizer?

I did not know how wrong my intentions were. I should not have pointed fingers without pointing them at myself first. I should not have thought that I was always right, let alone that I was better than my parents because I thought that what I read and knew was more applicable than the basic human principle of empathy. 

Empathy.

I recognize that we are all humans of diverse backgrounds, beliefs, and values. Perhaps not many other families will be as accepting as mine; I would be surprised if your family members respond similarly to how mine did. However, before speaking, I suggest that you evaluate your intentions. Before speaking, I suggest that you assess whether what you think is empathetic is actually reminiscent of hateful pride. Before speaking, I suggest that you check your responsibility to prepare for a conversation, not a talk.