By Gregory Lee
The following remarks were presented at Trinity United Church of Christ (Chicago, IL) on April 18, 2021. An earlier version was presented at Apostolic Faith Church (Chicago, IL) on April 5, 2021 for “Black and Asian Christians United Against Racism,” a panel organized by the Asian American Christian Collaborative in the wake of the Atlanta massacre of March 16, 2021 and the anti-Asian racism of the previous year. These remarks have been lightly edited for publication.
I
t is such an honor to be with you today. Trinity United Church of Christ is a community that I have long admired, and it has been a privilege to interact with Reverend Moss over the last weeks. It was also a joy to be with him on the panel, “Black and Asian Christians United Against Racism.” I am glad to share with you now some of what I shared at that event.
I would like to speak from my perspective as an Asian American on the complications and opportunities for Black-Asian solidarity against racism. I come at this issue from a unique vantage point as an Asian American who lives and worships in a Black community. For about a decade now, my family and I have lived in the Lawndale neighborhood of Chicago’s West Side. We are also members of Lawndale Christian Community Church, where I serve as theologian in residence. In an unexpected way, living in a Black neighborhood has developed my sense of racial identity more than the predominantly white and Asian American contexts where I grew up.
The relationship between Black and Asian Americans in this country is complicated. On the one hand, we have both been racialized and discriminated against, and we continue to experience marginalization and exclusion. On the other hand, we have been pitted against each other in ways that many Asian Americans are only starting to understand.
Asian Americans are often called “the model minority.” This is a problematic term for many reasons. One is that it masks the diversity of Asian America. Asian Americans represent dozens of different countries, and they have come here for very different reasons. Some have come voluntarily for academic and economic opportunities. Many of them succeed in those areas. But other populations have come as refugees, and their life outcomes are far worse in terms of education, income, and other socioeconomic measures. Cambodians are here because they were escaping genocide under Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. This is quite a different history from that of many East Asians.
The other, more serious problem with the model minority myth concerns the way it operates in our racial hierarchy. When you praise Asian Americans as the model minority, you are implying that other minorities are bad, and they should follow Asian Americans’ example. Who are these bad minorities? African Americans and Latinx people.
The model minority myth was invented at a very specific moment, 1966, when Black and Brown folks were pushing for further civil rights reforms. Some white authors responded, in widely cited publications, “The United States is not racist, and we do not owe these minorities anything. Look at the Asians—they are doing fine. They work hard, they care about their families, and they do not complain. Other minorities should follow their example.” In short, Asian Americans prove that the problems in Black and Latinx communities are not a function of racial injustice but of personal failure.
The problem with this argument is that it ignores history. Many of the Asians who have succeeded in this country had to pass through immigration filters that selected for highly skilled individuals. My parents went to top schools in South Korea and had to pass rigorous exams before they could immigrate. The population of Asians you see in America is not representative of their countries of origin. You might think that all Asians are good at math and science and play the violin. But that is not true of everyone back in the Asian countries themselves. India has a population of 1.4 billion. Not every one of those billion people is a doctor or in tech, which is what the stereotype is in the United States.
You cannot compare a population of voluntary immigrants who passed through strict filters to come to this country—and arrived here after the Civil Rights Movement—with Black folks who were brought here involuntarily and then endured slavery and Jim Crow. Those are very different histories.
The model minority myth is very tempting for Asian Americans because we are vulnerable in this country. It was first developed around Japanese and Chinese Americans. The Japanese were interned in incarceration camps during World War II. The Chinese had been deemed aliens in this country and denied citizenship since the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. This helps explain why many Asians wanted to prove their identity as Americans, and why they felt relieved when white people suddenly started speaking positively about them. But in many cases, white people call us the model minority not because they like and care about us but because they are trying to keep other minorities down.
In her book Caste, Isabel Wilkerson writes about how caste systems depend on a bottom rung. In the United States, arguably, that bottom rung is African Americans. The higher rungs on the caste system are still kept from the top, but they can be manipulated into not making a fuss so long as they do not get treated as badly as the bottom rung. This system divides people of color against each other so they cannot perceive the real problem, which is the power structures that privilege white people over minorities in the first place.
There have always been Asian Americans who have seen through the model minority myth and refused to be used in this fashion. I am referring to the Asian Americans have fought against school segregation, marched for civil rights, and joined with other students of color to lobby for ethnic studies departments. Many have called out the temptations of assimilation that were dangled before them.
But for many Asian Americans, including many Asian American Christians, this last year of anti-Asian racism has been a wakeup call. The Atlanta murders have forced many of us to reckon with racial issues like we never have.
Most Asian Americans immigrated here after 1965 and thus have a short history in this country. My father, mother, and grandmother came here after the trauma of Japanese colonialism and the Korean War. They saw America as a land of freedom and opportunity. My generation was taught that if we worked hard, kept our heads low, and did well at school, white Americans would eventually accept us. Now we are seeing that this is not true. COVID-19 arises in an Asian country, and Asian Americans are immediately scapegoated and attacked.
My parents are immigrants, but I was born and raised in this country. I am a United States citizen, and English is my native language. But none of those advantages will mean much for my kids. They will be racialized just like I have been. They, along with myself, will also be unassimilable minorities.
These realities are helping many Asian Americans realize that we need to stand up for ourselves. And as we are looking for models and inspiration, many of us are looking not just to our own communities but also to the Black church. Asian Americans have a history of activism, but we do not have as many nationally known figures as African Americans do. Few Asian Americans are household names like Frederick Douglass or Martin Luther King Jr.
We see the Black church as a group that has forged the way for other minorities. We are asking how African Americans have responded to oppression so we can explore what this might look like for our own communities. We are also realizing how we have been used against other groups, and we are saying, “No. We are not going to let that happen anymore.”
It has been a powerful experience to see so many African Americans stand up for us as we have increasingly been standing up for African Americans.
Last year, the Asian American Christian Collaborative organized a march called “Asian American Christians for Black Lives and Dignity.” It was an invigorating event, and about 1,000 people showed up. It received a lot more attention than we anticipated, I think, because people do not expect Asian Americans to speak up. They assume we are quiet and keep our heads low, so then they are surprised when we say, “We also think what happened to George Floyd is an outrage, and we are also going to march for our Black brothers and sisters.” This event was very affirming, and it motivated us to continue speaking up. I saw that Asian Americans can be unexpected allies that catch people off guard.
But I also want to share how much the Black church has blessed us. As I mentioned, my family and I live and worship in a Black community. After the Atlanta massacre, so many of our friends from church texted, called, e-mailed, and even visited our home to share their prayers and concerns for us. This was especially encouraging because Black folks have experienced these kinds of attacks before. As many of them said to us, “I am sorry about what happened. I see you. I hope you are holding up. Black folks have been there before. And we are going to stand with you now.” This has meant a lot to us, and it inspires us to keep standing up for our own community as we also stand up for others.
People of color can do mighty things when we unite with each other, especially when our unity is in Christ. And that is what I hope Black and Asian Christians in Chicagoland can keep displaying to the world as we fight racism together in solidarity. Thank you, Trinity United Church of Christ, for being an ally to Asian Americans in that struggle. Thank you for this opportunity to share with you today.
Photo by Korantin Grall on Unsplash
Gregory Lee is Associate Professor of Theology and Urban Studies at Wheaton College and Theologian in Residence at Lawndale Christian Community Church.