The Fruit of Violence
Updated: The names of the victims have been removed since not all of the families have given their consent.
The morning after the Atlanta shootings, I had the same conversation with my mother as I did over a year ago. The surge in anti-Asian attacks, particularly against our elders and women, made her a prime target. Saying “Be careful” to each other feels futile when our safety is predicated on what we look like, and at the root of it, our existence.
Of the eight people murdered— six of them were Asian women.
For Asian Americans who have been ringing the alarm on anti-Asian discrimination since the start of the pandemic and organizers working towards legal rights for massage and sex workers, the motivation behind the Atlanta spa shootings is not the result of “a really bad day” or “sexual addiction.” It is the result of systemic racism, misogyny, xenophobia, colonialization, and the criminalization of sex work.
In the last few days, this tragedy has turned me inward.
I’m reminded of when, at 15, a white man flashed me in broad daylight as I walked home from school and yelled, “You like this, c — — bitch?” I’m reminded of when a boyfriend asked me to say me love you long time. I’m reminded of a man stuffing cash into my hands, then waited outside of the restaurant where I worked until my shift ended to ask me out on a date. I’m reminded of being spat on in the subway when I rejected a stranger’s advances.
When the names and ages of the victims were released, my heart hurt knowing that these women could have been my mom or my aunts.
I wish I could say I’m not afraid, but I am. I’m a new mom. On top of the postpartum anxiety, my mind goes into hyperdrive every time I leave the house with my daughter. No matter how methodically I map out our routes and plan for every possible exit, I feel exposed and defenseless in light of these racist attacks.
To be sure, anti-Asian violence will not end with more policing, as seen in the deaths of Tommy Le, Christian Hall, and Yang Song. We need to root out white supremacy by building political solidarity with Black, Latinx, and Indigenous people and within the Asian diaspora.
As I process the hurt, rage, and fear that I’m feeling — I think back to a line in Ocean Vuong’s On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: “Let no one mistake us for the fruit of violence — but that violence, having passed through the fruit, failed to spoil it.”
There is a long history of violence against Asian Americans and the targeting of Asian American sex workers in the United States. And for just as long, there have been many Asian American activists like Grace Lee Boggs, Yuri Kochiyama, and Larry Itliong, and organizations like Red Canary Song, Sakhi for South Asian Women, and Mekong NYC fighting for solidarity, our safety and equality.
Asian voices have long been ignored, but I hope you hear us loud and clear now.
What you can do:
- Donate to the Gofundme campaigns to support the families of the victims in the Atlanta shootings.
- Read Red Canary Song’s statement on the 8 lives lost in Atlanta and stand in solidarity with all immigrant and migrant massage workers and sex workers.
- Follow the Black and Asian Feminist Solidarities project, a collaboration between Black Women Radicals and the Asian American Feminist Collective.
- Support organizations doing solidarity work on the ground in Georgia like Asian Americans Advancing Justice — Atlanta.
