By Phuong Marquez
I
will forever remember the feeling when the news first broke. My thoughts immediately went to my aunts and uncles that work in nail salons. I know them as my family, hard-working and extremely kind people. They work over twelve hours and still go home to cook family dinners and take care of their children. I wonder who could possibly have a heart to do such a thing, to go and kill in cold blood the women who are like my aunts: hardworking, kind, and family-oriented.
As time passed and more details came to light, I had to constantly tell myself to feel the emotions I was feeling: anger, because he was supposed to be a brother-in-Christ; sadness, in seeing members of our community attacked in such a way; and realization that I have lived with this reality for the past year and my whole life. Over the next couple of days, memories flooded back. Some when I was younger – a name was called. Some when I was an adolescent – a cat-call here, a look there. Some more recent – people looking at me with contempt and avoiding my path in the stores. There are countless more moments…
I remember the first time I realized that I might be in trouble when the “China Flu” and “Kung Flu” terms were coined, and a man changed his table in a hotel lobby in March of 2020 when I had coughed. Within a few weeks, I would hear the story of the family that was stabbed at a Sam’s Club in a city not too far from where I live in Houston. The story never made the local news. I would go to the Chinatown of my city, a place I frequented often as a child, and see how business dwindled and places I knew since childhood quickly closed doors or even had their windows smashed.
I go back to the events of Mar. 16, and I hear the police giving the statement saying that this killer had a “bad day” and that “he was at the end of his rope.” It made me angry. It was a moment that I could literally feel my skin. The next couple days after that, I went online, expressed my grief and sorrow with little response. It wasn’t until days later that I recalled my past experiences of racism and misogynistic abuse that people started reacting. Worse yet, I looked around at the local churches and didn’t see a statement. I noticed people who I consider anchors of the faith in my community stay silent on an issue that tore so deeply in my soul. And it hurt. I despaired in the world. I despaired in the church.
There are no words I could say to fully describe the magnitude of this event in my life. I still come to tears remembering when I looked out into the room and saw so many faces, some that I identified with and some that I didn’t know carried all the emotions that I had felt. I sang songs; I prayed in my mother language albeit not well; and before I prayed, I introduced myself to a room full of brothers and sister in Christ as the first-born American in my family. To share an identity that I had borne with so much weight, anguish, and confusion through this time – and it be understood – was a feeling that was indescribably fulfilling to me. I heard different pastors preach to me: an Asian American pastor who addressed the inherent racist natures in us as someone who is married to an African American woman; a Caucasian Christian leader who expressed his grief and pain for coming from an establishment that had oppressed the minority groups present; and an African American pastor who was not afraid to point out the strife between our communities, but that together in love, we can rise above this.
All words I so desperately needed to hear, because those were truly all the struggles that I have faced my whole life. I am blessed to have Asian American sisters in Christ who I could talk to after the event, and sink in the peace of knowing that God is so mighty in this moment and through this opportunity. We were convicted, realizing that we didn’t need to wait for the church to respond. We can be the church wherever we are and speak up against these injustices happening in our world. I loved that there were fourteen cities that met at once; it was a great image of the church on Earth coming together to call on the name of Jesus. The images I chose to focus on after the rally were not of the killer, but of the people I knew in other cities that attended an AACC prayer rally.
The most beautiful part was that there were people of different backgrounds, skin colors, and ages all united in this movement. I want to thank you, AACC, for the courage and resilience to rise to this moment, and for giving us the ability and freedom to mobilize and speak our hearts and minds to each other, to the people who needed to hear this message, and most importantly to God. I know that there unfortunately will be more that needs to be done, but may we all rise to the moment when it comes to each of us. God bless and Godspeed.
First photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash
My name is Phuong Marquez and I’m from Houston. I work with one of the collaborators, Julee Chang, for this event in Houston. We operate a small business bakery. I’m currently a Master’s student pursuing a degree in Curriculum & Instruction, and formerly was a teacher. I go to Neartown Church in Houston.