Mar 22, 20214 min read

A Letter from an Asian American

In light of the recent tragedy in Atlanta and the ongoing #StopAsianHate movement, I wanted to give a brief statement addressing racism towards Asian Americans. By no means is this a comprehensive telling of my experiences or my many thoughts regarding the topic. I am currently working on a side project that goes more in-depth into my experience growing up Chinese in the United States. However, while that is in development, I feel compelled to say something during this time.

The content of this blog primarily centers around fashion and college. However, the original intent of Classically Leah was to have a platform that could act as an extension of what is on my mind. Being Chinese is an inescapable part of my identity, and in the past year, it has been an all-consuming thought. The racial effects of COVID-19 forced me to confront my racial identity issues. Through self-reflection and acknowledgment of past experiences, I have a new understanding of how impactful being Chinese has been on my personal development. Over these past few months, I have become very frustrated with the acceptance of anti-Asian sentiments and the dismissal of Asians who choose to speak their truths. At the very least, I feel an obligation to allow my Asian American voice to speak out on the platform I have created. I will not perpetuate the problem by silencing myself.

As an Asian adoptee from a transracial adoption, I am very aware and appreciative of the privileges having a white family has given to me. However, the Caucasian last name and white cultural upbringing do not protect me against racism, nor does it erase the fact that my genetic makeup is 100% Chinese.

My everyday reality of living in a predominantly white community overshadowed the early efforts to learn about and grow an appreciation for my Chinese heritage. The Chinese culture still feels very foreign to me. Everything I know about being a Chinese person in the United States, I have learned from others;

From children in my first-grade class, I learned that I would always be different.

From mainstream media, I learned I was never going to be beautiful

From my peers in high school, I learned my academic accomplishments were going to be considered a product of race.

From teenage boys and young men, I learned about the fetishization of Asian women.

From society, I learned that being a member of the “model minority” means I am expected to be silent, and any degree of racism I experience will be invalidated.

Racism and discrimination directed towards the Asian community are not new. They have been normalized and allowed to exist in the United States for centuries. Only now has a voice finally been given to the centuries of silenced anguish.

The continuation of hate crimes, anti-Asian rhetoric, and consequences of deep-rooted racism continue to strike fear, inflict pain, and leave scars on the Asian American community.

For me, the past few months have ushered in a wave of confusion and sadness as I analyze my past and try to find peace with my race. Although the events that triggered the #StopAsianHate movement are deeply disturbing, I feel overwhelming relief that the Asian struggle is no longer being ignored or discredited. I fear that the attention directed towards the Asian American experience at this moment may be fleeting and potentially forgotten, but myself, and other members of the AAPI community, will be affected by its impact indefinitely.

For those choosing to be an ally to the Asian and other marginalized communities, all I have to say is that as we work together towards a better future, let us not forget the importance of listening. Regardless of how educated you are about the topic of racism, reading about it is not equivalent to experiencing it. In your efforts to advocate, do not be louder than the individuals of the communities you are trying to help. For those of you with Asian friends or family members, understand that although the emotions and experiences they are sharing may be new information to you, it has been a suppressed reality for them. Give them room to grieve, listen and believe their stories, and use your privilege to amplify the voice of the less privileged.

~Leah