By Alex Wang
On March 16, 2020, six women of Asian descent were tragically killed in an Atlanta mass shooting. On the same day, then-President Trump publicly perpetuated xenophobia by labeling Covid-19 as the ‘Chinese Virus’ on Twitter. These events, along with numerous other instances of anti-Asian bias, contributed to a chilling realization: modern-day anti-Asian hate was increasing at an alarming rate.
Between March 2020 and February 2021, the initiative Stop AAPI Hate recorded nearly 3,800 incidents of anti-Asian hate in the US. For many Asian-Americans, including myself, the growing prevalence of hate crimes in our news feeds quickly fostered fear for our safety. I remember my horror upon first seeing my race being publicly condemned for something out of our control. I remember my shock at hearing 40-year-old Michelle Go was shoved in front of an oncoming train in NYC. I remember my outrage at seeing brutal assault after brutal assault on Asian-Americans of all ages. Our horrific treatment and the harsh accusations left us all with desperate questions: “Why is this happening to us?” ”When will it stop?”
To the contemporary eye, the correlation may seem simple—blaming the virus on Asians leads to more anti-Asian hate and racism. However, the true and underlying explanation runs much deeper, interwoven into this country’s socio-cultural fabric. The Covid-19 pandemic merely served as a present-day catalyst for the upsurge of Asian-American xenophobia in the United States. Pre-existing prejudice, evident in the country’s long history of xenophobic anti-Asian legislation and events, is the true, deep-rooted, and overshadowed cause of the modern biases and racism.
Asians have long been recipients of blame and distrust since their first steps on American soil. In the mid 1800’s, a large influx of Chinese immigrants started coming to the country, working in mines and railroad systems. This became known as “yellow peril”; peoples’ fear of workplace competition from the cheap, foreign labor triggered anti-Chinese sentiment. The yellow peril’s ascent culminated in the passing of the Page Act of 1875, coupled with the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act. The Page Act effectively barred Chinese women from entering the country; its creation was influenced by erroneous stereotypes of Chinese women being promiscuous and sexual threats. Following the Page Act, the Exclusion Act subsequently established a legal ten-year prohibition on Chinese labor immigration in another example of anti-Asian xenophobia. Its first lines read, “Whereas in the opinion of the Government of the United States the coming of Chinese laborers to this country endangers the good order of certain localities within the territory thereof.”
Throughout the history of the United States, our ongoing struggles have often been disregarded. Furthermore, since anti-Asian racism has become so devastatingly normalized, many don’t recognize its presence and prevalence in the modern day. To the modern eye, the pandemic’s hate crimes could easily seem like an independent series of events. Pinning Covid-19 on Asians seemingly justified widespread hate and violence. Our pain and scars are essentially invisible, whilst the public continues to blame us for the “Chinese Virus.”
The United States has repeatedly shown xenophobic and racist tendencies towards Asians through its legislation. This only further emboldens the public to commit heinous crimes, and ultimately keep anti-Asian racism as an ever-present issue. The more modern, pandemic-related events are merely a reemergence of the ethnic discrimination. Although time has seen the violence lessen over the past three years, the message is lasting and alarming. The United State’s systems have been ingrained with bias and distrust against Asian-Americans, and are ultimately the reason that many Asians have feared for their safety in the modern day. The scars run deep into this country’s history, an obstacle to any real progress against this issue. However, modern xenophobia may have a hidden benefit: it is a revitalized reminder to the current generation. A call to action.