I wanted to share the Learning Story I presented earlier this month at the SALSA conference. This is the full piece I wrote with two entries and a third on the way.
May 19, 2020
“How do you feel about the coronavirus?!”, she asked. I stared in confusion. I was in mid sentence of explaining my research on molecular docking of nucleoside analogs as potential anticancer drugs. I had been invited to the State of the University to present my research to the Camarillo Chamber of Commerce at the Spanish Hills Country Club. I was one of four students from CSU Channel Islands to be invited. From the moment I pulled into the parking lot with my old van, I knew I didn’t belong. After setting up my poster and resting my nerves, I began to feel confident again, sharing my work with many business professionals. I was approached by a group of well dressed women in heels. They were kind, and expressed they knew very little in science, but were excited to hear my research. I was perhaps halfway finished with my speech when one woman interrupted me to ask, “How do you feel about the coronavirus?!”. This was my first interaction about the virus outside of school or social media (where it began as a joke, and wasn’t taken seriously). My research was strictly computational and had nothing to do with viruses, so I was taken aback by the question. I explained this to her. Shortly after, the women left, asking no actual questions about my research. Hours later, I sat down at a table with my fellow classmates. As I looked around the room, it became clear how few people of color were in the room. And I realized I was the only Chinese woman in the room.
It is believed that the virus began in China (depending on where you read or who you ask). After reaching the U.S., it began to spread uncontrollably. Resulting in a state-wide lockdown that has quarantined citizens, pushed all education to online learning, and forced non-essential businesses to close. As the COVID-19 cases rose so did ignorance. People began to blame in all directions, but ultimately it came down to the Asian community, not just the Chinese. I constantly see reports of violent acts or hurtful messages towards my people, and have occasionally experienced them myself. Walking in my neighborhood became stressful after I would receive glances and glares from strangers. Even in the workplace, though I work in a very diverse company, I had an awkward conversation with a white coworker. She looked at her freshly painted nails and said, “Man, I’m really glad I have a gel nail polish set”. I laughed and asked, “Why?”. She responded with, “The last place I’d want to be in this time is a nail salon”. I paused. Maybe she is referring to the social distancing aspect, because you must be really close to someone in order to get your nails painted. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt in hopes she had just phrased her sentence differently than she had intended it to sound. I ask, “Oh, why’s that?”. She looked at me with wide eyes and said, “Oh, because…youuu know”. There was no remorse in her tone.
In the third grade I brought a traditional Asian snack to school, specifically dried anchovies. Two girls had come up to me and asked if they could have some. I explained to them that they would probably not like them since it was a foreign taste. Unsatisfied with my answer, they demanded that I give them some. I gave each girl a few pieces. After putting the fish into their mouths, they immediately ran into the restroom and pretended to vomit in between their laughter. When we returned to class, the vice principal had asked to see me in the hallway. Beside her was the principal. They began to interrogate me about the snack I brought to school, claiming I had made two girls sick. They confiscated my fish and stared at the bag. They asked, “What are these?, to which I replied, “Anchovies”. A passing janitor was pulled aside by the principal. She asked him, “Do you know what these are?”. To which I said again, “Anchovies”. Ignoring me, he held the bag to the light and said, “Might be some sort of fish”. All three turned their attention back to me. The principal declared, “No more of these sort of snacks at school”, and sent me back to class.
It took me almost a decade to come to terms with my ethnic identity. After being shut down and shamed for what I ate or how I looked, I was embarrassed and tried to hide who I was. In my early adulthood, I watched Asian culture and food come into popularity. The food we ate that was once branded as “exotic” or “smelly” had become “trendy”. It was exciting because friends would ask for recommendations or opt to eat at different restaurants. I was proud! However, after COVID-19 made an appearance into my life, I watched it all return full circle. “Well it’s no wonder how this all happened! Stupid Asians eating bats and dogs”, a response from a man on a social media post. People began to back away from Asian restaurants and businesses in fear of getting the virus, and once again we were branded as disgusting. I may not know when this will all be over, but I know the way people view us will not. This is something I had to accept very early on into my life. No, it isn’t something we should settle with. But, yes, it’s something we know is there.
I was quick to learn that in serious situations, the worst in people comes out. For many people, things that are different are instantly viewed foreign, or wrong, or weird. People are scared and want something to blame. All my life, I was constantly shut down by people of authority, classmates, coworkers, and strangers for my ethnicity, not my actions. Since COVID-19, people have used it as an outlet to spread hateful and ignorant comments towards the Asian community to which I experience first-hand. It saddens me because I chose to work in medicinal chemistry to help others, and these same people make me feel unwanted and unimportant.
Something I’ve learned about dealing with criticism is to be the bigger person. I choose not to instigate the situation and make it worse than it needs to be. I’ve also learned to surround myself with people who support me rather than bring me down. I want to express that even though I do not reciprocate these sort of people it does not mean I don’t stand up for my community. I wear my ethnicity proudly on my sleeve and represent my family everytime I make a mark in this world. In one week, I will graduate with my B.S. in Chemistry. In a few months I will be applying for graduate school and conducting research. In my lifetime, I will make an impact in this world and it will be all because of a Chinese woman.
August 3, 2020
We are now approaching the seventh month of COVID restrictions in the United States. In these 3 short months, I have lived in 5 different homes. My last learning story was dated back in May, the week of my graduation as well as the end of my apartment lease. The three roommates I had were given no choice but to move back to Bakersfield, leaving me in Moorpark with no options. I was one of the few fortunate who was deemed an essential worker, since I work in a medical serving laboratory. I was contracted to my position and would not be able to find work back in my hometown. That said, I made the decision to continue living in Ventura County. On the last day of our lease, I slept on the floor of our empty apartment, and went to work that same morning. That evening, I turned in our keys and went to stay with a coworker in Oxnard for two weeks. During my stay, the Black Lives Matter movement had erupted. Protests and fireworks had taken place every other day. It became stressful as I began to worry for my friends and family of color. People often made claims that my hometown was not racist and the protests were not welcome. Business and homeowners stood outside their properties with guns and American flags as a peaceful protest was organized later that day. A week later, monuments and buildings were tagged with “White Lives Matter” slogans. I shared the following experience in hopes of my community accepting the ugly within our town:
“It took some time to process and gather the situation. This movement is not about me, but the following is. I hope it can give any of you who are not understanding, some insight on a different perspective.
I have been wanting to speak about this for two years now, and I regret not doing it sooner. My sisters and I were accused of vandalizing the car of a girl we went to high school with. Her father (and also my former teacher) called my stepfather and said they had video surveillance of my younger sister climbing out of a car and vandalizing his daughter’s. He said the car belonged to my sister’s friend and he began to describe it. It was not the correct color, model, or year of her friend’s car. My stepfather asked him if he could see her face on the footage. He stumbled and said not really. So my stepfather told him to stop calling unless he had real proof. It was not much longer before the wife called (another former teacher of mine). Instead, my mother answered. She was convinced my sister did it. My mother explained that she did not commit the crime. So she pushed the idea that my older sister did it (keep in mind she doesn’t drive and is years older than this girl). My mother said that couldn’t be right either. To which she changed her answer, saying that it could’ve been my van. Not only was she changing the car description, but going down the list of me and my sister’s. My mother asked, “Well, which girl was it?” To which she replied, “I don’t know! You all look alike.” There was silence. She angrily said “that’s not what I meant”. My mother said, “I hope you’re referring to the fact that they’re sisters…”. She made an attempt to say something, but was stopped by another voice on the phone-it was the daughter’s. She said, “mom just drop it” and they hung up. To this day, we never saw the surveillance footage nor did we receive an apology. Up until I left for college, I continued to work at our family’s restaurant. My family served each of you with respect despite what you did, and you still gave glares and passive attitude. It deeply angers me because I now see I was never your student, I was just some Asian to you. I looked up to you and played softball with your daughter who I thought was an amazing athlete.
This is not for any of you to take pity on me. In fact I was lucky, how? Had I been darker, my mother wouldn’t have been called, it would’ve been the police. The situation could have easily been their word over ours. But no, they called my mom and in that moment we were able to dispute the accusations. These victims (yes plural) were not given that option. Innocent friends of mine have been detained and arrested for crimes they did not commit. I worry for the black community and my friends of color. For my 3 Chinese sisters, my 3 Mexican brothers, and Jamaican brother (all of whom I have run from bullets with). It is important that we support in the way we want to be supported.
For those living in Taft who don’t hear about racial injustice happening in “our town”, know that it’s because it’s not happening in your house, your friend circle, or on your social media feed. It’s happening in an ugly, hidden way to save face. In fear of losing jobs, patronage, friendships, funding, scholarships, etc. Stop pretending it doesn’t happen. Instead, be open to discussion and learning. It is one of many steps you can take to do the right thing.”
A few days in, I was able to find an AirBnB for a couple weeks in June and July. Yet, there was a one week gap between my final stay at my coworker’s apartment and the AirBnB. My grandmother had had a stroke and became paralyzed on the entire left side of her body. Since I was not able to see her while away for work, I used the opportunity to take a week off in order to visit her back home. It was difficult to see her with the hospital restrictions, so I was only to see her for a day. When I returned to Oxnard, I checked into my AirBnB and proceeded to work 40+ hours a week. I was exhausted every night with only enough energy to make dinner before going to bed in preparation for work the next day.
Hearing the news that my work had extended my contract until August was bittersweet. I was grateful to continue working with them, but I now had to find another home. A friend had reached out to me with an offer from her neighbor; She was looking to rent out a room in her house. I jumped on the opportunity and made arrangements to stay. Learning the community became the biggest obstacle for me. Newbury Park is considered a wealthier and primarily white community. For the most part, I had no issues and most people were nice. However, it was when I began to engage in the community where I noticed people acting differently. I had gone on a walk around the neighborhood and would often pass others. Anywhere I had walked in the past it had been a social norm to say hello or to give a friendly nod to others passing by. When I attempted to do the same I was ignored and in some cases they would turn their heads or cross the street. Going grocery shopping has always been a nightmare for me, because I don’t like shopping for multiple hours. Shopping in Newbury Park had heightened my anxious tendencies. In an attempt to get produce, I was cut off by several people who crowded around the vegetables. I stood afar to practice social distancing and decided fighting for green onions was not worth it. I later found myself in the “ethnic aisle” looking at rice vinegar alone. Whenever someone would try to come down the aisle with their cart, they would look at me and turn away. I figured it was a coincidence, but it occurred three times and no one else was in the aisle. Why was it that they could crowd the produce, but couldn’t walk past me in a wide aisle?
I, like many Americans, am struggling. The constant uncertainty has been the largest stressor, all while trying to stay healthy and battling racial injustice. I am full of worry, but I carry optimism where I can.
Asia Fee 