In the midst of a global pandemic, our country has seen a disturbingly sharp rise in anti-Asian attacks, harassment, and rhetoric. As President Karol V. Mason pointed out in her letter to the John Jay community, “Hate is deadly and we cannot be silent when we see it. Instead, we must stand together and confront the rising anti-Asian racism our country is witnessing.” In support of our Asian-American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) community, we recently brought together a group of AAPI students and faculty to express their feelings, thoughts, and concerns in a safe space. With their permission, our “Stop Asian Hate” article series reflects elements of that gathering in an effort to educate the entire John Jay community about AAPI culture, experiences, and history. We hope that their pride in their heritage, and their determination to fight hatred and bigotry, inspires us all to confront anti-Asian racism.
“With what’s been happening to the AAPI community over the last year, my father and I have been able to work through some of his past trauma. We’re drawing parallels between the racism and xenophobia he faced in the ’60s and ’70s with what’s happening today.” —Amber Rivero
As anti-Asian attacks began to rise, Amber Rivero ’21, a Filipina-American, Student Council President, and Political Science major, found herself processing the trauma with her father. “My father grew up in the 1960s and ’70s, a brown Asian man living in America, and while I was growing up, I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t more civically engaged with issues of discrimination. A mentor of mine told me I needed to look at the situation differently. I needed to understand that his silence was more about survival. He couldn’t be vocal like me because he was traumatized by his own experience and he had never dealt with the trauma,” explains Rivero. “With what’s been happening to the AAPI community over the last year, my father and I have been able to work through some of his past trauma. We’re drawing parallels between the racism and xenophobia he faced in the ’60s and ’70s with what’s happening today. I feel honored to have these conversations with him. It helps process the trauma we’re both currently experiencing.”
During a recent conversation, Rivero’s father questioned whether shining a light on the anti-Asian attacks would help stop the violence, or if focusing on the attacks would lead to more harassment and discrimination. “I said, ‘Dad, if you don’t acknowledge the wounds of the past, if you don’t talk about the history of this country and the pain caused to the AAPI community, the Black community, and other communities of color, both historically and now, there can never be healing. We need to acknowledge the wounds and call out the wrongdoing. We have a chance to make a difference for our community right now.”
“If you don’t acknowledge the wounds of the past, if you don’t talk about the history of this country and the pain caused to the AAPI community, the Black community, and other communities of color, both historically and now, there can never be healing.” —Amber Rivero
Can you share a little bit about what life was like for you growing up?
I’m a military brat, so part of my childhood was spent living on military bases in the suburbs across southern states. I even lived a year in Panama. Growing up was low-key traumatizing for me. Most of the schools I went to were predominantly white, and I felt like I didn’t belong or that no one understood my culture. I was always called the “little hula girl,” or the “Hawaiian girl,” or “Pocahontas.” I feel that the only reason I survived during that time was because I was hanging out with the African-American kids and staying in the BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) circle at school.
When I moved to New York, it was revolutionary for me—I’ve been here for 15 years. I was able to go to schools with Black and Latinx students and large AAPI communities. I could hang out with people who had a similar culture to mine, even if they weren’t Filipino. In New York City, there is so much diversity and safe spaces where you can go to feel connected to your culture or your homeland.
The pandemic has been extremely challenging for everyone to withstand, especially the AAPI community. What has living through the pandemic been like for you?
It’s been very emotional and traumatizing. What our AAPI community is going through, amid this pandemic, really hurts and makes me angry. There’s such a lack of awareness and media attention around the injustices faced by the AAPI community, both historically and currently. When you look at the statistics on anti-Asian violence, harassment, and discrimination since February 2020, a large portion of those reports are by women. As a member of the AAPI community, I feel that I’m not safe because of my language, my culture, my race, and my skin color, but now I’m even more afraid because I’m also a woman. Where are we safe in this world?
“As a member of the AAPI community, I feel that I’m not safe because of my language, my culture, my race, and my skin color, but now I’m even more afraid because I’m also a woman. Where are we safe in this world?” —Amber Rivero
How have you been supported during this time? Has anything specific happened that helped you feel seen, heard, or comforted as you processed what has happened?
After the mass shooting in Atlanta, a lot of people outside the AAPI community were reaching out to me, texting and calling me to check in. They wanted to show solidarity and say they were sorry for how the AAPI community is being treated. I appreciated their thoughtfulness and their recognition of these horrible acts. As President of Student Government, I also wanted to amplify AAPI concerns and voices, so I decided to put forth an AAPI racial justice statement. I knew people were feeling unseen, unheard, and unsupported.
What can people outside of the AAPI community do to be a true ally?
A good starting point for people outside the AAPI community would be to educate themselves on the history of the AAPI community, both here and abroad. People should learn about language and behavior that is culturally inclusive and affirming. It’s not just about understanding microaggressions and problematic language and behavior toward us—and then feeling guilty about it. It’s about holding yourself and others accountable for this type of behavior. Minorities can unify and understand each other. But what we need to do is hold the white community accountable. The white community should learn to be more appreciative of us without appropriating our culture and tokenizing or dismissing us entirely.
“Ethnic studies, like Asian studies, should be elevated to majors because our experience is part of the American experience. We’re here, we exist, and we deserve to be part of the dialogue.” —Amber Rivero
If you could name one proactive action that our John Jay College community could take to help support the AAPI community, what would it be?
We need, at every education level—K-12 to higher education—a greater emphasis and inclusion of the Asian experience. We should be learning about Asian history before America and then in America. So many of us don’t know about the Chinese Exclusion Act, the Rock Springs Massacre, or what happened to the Filipino soldiers who served during World War II—who were promised U.S. citizenship and veteran benefits but saw the U.S. renege on the offer after the war. This is the history that should be taught in our classrooms, the complete history.
One way we can help promote the change in the curriculum is to convert ethnic studies like Asian studies and Africana studies, which are just minors, into majors. Ethnic studies, like Asian studies, should be elevated to majors because our experience is part of the American experience. We’re here, we exist, and we deserve to be part of the dialogue.
