Blackout Tuesday

Black Out Tuesday

A fellow Asian immigrant confessed that she doesn't understand about Black Lives Matter. I told her neither do I. 

We don't care what your color is, to us you are all strangers. It is also very confusing. Black has their own groups that no other race can join (so does Asian and pretty much every race/ethnicities), so why would you want to be in the white people's group? And why only blacklivesmatter? I am not black, so I don't matter? I don't understand what it's like being black, but I don't think anyone other than ourselves know what it's like to become an Asian immigrant.

But I still put that black profile pic up. #BlackOutTuesday

This is for the people I met on my commute to work in Los Angeles, the homeless and the vagrant who are disproportionately black. That one man whom I met several time and asked for a hug. That one woman whom I was annoyed with because of the body odor, which quickly turned into horror seeing the diabetic gangrene on both of her legs. The people who has to try to sleep on the bus and on the train to keep themselves from the element out there.

This is for the people I met in my apartment. The old man and his wife who called us and gave my stepson banana every time they hear his voice down the corridor. The young man with his pretty little daughter that stays with him every weekend. The prostitute (?) who made me blush when she said earnestly, "You are very beautiful" and I wished the night won't be so rough on her.

This is for the man I went on a date with, probably one of the most well-spoken and well-mannered men I have ever known. The partner of my ex-husband's coworker who put it bluntly to him during dinner "You are disrespecting your wife" when my ex-husband was busy flirting and making sexist remark during our casual dinner. The opera singer that made me squeal with joy when I saw his name on the cast.

This is for all the feel-good stories, all the overcoming-challenges stories that I have read. Stories like HONY's Mott Hall Bridges Academy. Stories like the teen that got a wrong text invitation for Thanksgiving dinner and it becomes their tradition, still going strong after fourth years. Stories that shows a true character of a person and how well their parents and/or community taught them. Stories that should be applauded regardless of the skin color of the do-gooder.

I don't know much about being black, but I know much about being privileged. I know the privilege of having a smart brain and a stable household that allow me to develop the said brain. I know the privilege of going to a swanky nerd school and was able to hone my social skill to the max. I know the privilege of looking attractive enough to let people lower their guard down (this feature only work in select countries). I know the privilege of knowing that come what may, I will survive.

Am I oppressed? Oh yes. I was oppressed, but not the "They all will come to get us!" oppressed. An ex of my ex told me that he is hurting us because of his white supremacist mentality. I just think he is predator and will prey on people who are weaker than him, regardless of their skin color. Yet what a horrible way to have to feel or think that way all the time, to be chained to where you are and unable to be free.

Black lives matter because, well, it matters. Because the people I met matters. They deserve a life without fearing prosecution. They deserve to be able to hope and dream, to be someone instead of just number in the statistic. They deserve to be themselves and not seen based on their skin color. We all do.

Someone posted what happens after this. That's a good question. Realistically, no amount of scholarship or preferred hiring will help if we don't give a chance for the kids to grow. No matter how much fertilizer you put the chance of a rose garden blooming from a patch of asphalt is pretty darn low. What they need is what we have right now: access to good education, access to financial services (bank instead of check cashing or loansharks), access to a safe community where children can be adult and realizing plus utilizing the options they have.

And it's a team effort. There is so much others can do if the other party does not help. We have reached this fork on the road where we need to ask ourselves: what can we do for ourselves and for others. Because this circle of violence has to stop, and smiles and hashtags are just not enough. They need hope. They need a way out. 

A way to do this is to vote. Vote for people who actually care. Vote for people who have the right goal in mind and able to tell you steps to achieve that goal. Vote for people who will fight for those in need without fearing losing their seat/position. And if your champion can't or don't have what you want, tell them what you want to be done. 

Remember we need structural changes, access to opportunity and safe community. We need to make what is available to others available for them too. Because after the fire dies down, we still need to build that way out, that stepladder for equality. We've got a long way to go, so roll up your sleeve and let's do this.