Sanctuary

I had a conversation with a friend last night about what my goals in doing all this rallying, activism, and being angry. Truth is, for a long time I wasn't sure of the best way to articulate them. It's not ultimately to make America as a country better, this is not my country and I have another one to worry about. It's not out of whining about Asian victimhood or some twisted sense of Asian supremacy. And it's certainly not out of some desire to make myself look better or get a writing portfolio going - but if that happens, that's ancillary of course.

The same friend seemed to doubt how realistic the declared goals of the rally and the activism were. Solving racism? "bullshit." Making Tufts a safe haven? "bullshit." Something like it not being possible so we should stop trying for that.

I felt angry and offended by his statements, but also seriously challenged. Because truth is, I don't think it's unrealistic or unreasonable to ask Tufts, the administration and the students, to make our physical and intellectual space a safe haven. It's not too much to ask that when people go here their presence here will not be questioned or attacked on account of their race, sexuality, religion, or socioeconomic class. It's not too much to ask that students be greeted by other students with open-mindedness and curiosity, not ignorance and bigotry. It's not too much to ask that the administration stop sweeping hate crimes under the rug with the sugar-coated shell of "bias incident." A bias incident implies held racist beliefs of an individual. Any sociologist will tell you that when it comes to talking about racism, individualistic models always fail. Racism is ingrained in how social systems work, how people are raised to behave in these social systems, and how the paths of least resistance in these social systems lead to oppression by privileged groups towards unprivileged ones. At Tufts, no one in the administration acknowledges that privilege still continues to create an environment that ignores the struggles undergone by students who do not belong to the dominant majority, resulting in the perpetuation and compounding of their pain.

Because when you think about it, the student who spat on my friends, told them to go back to China, and threatened to physically injure and kill them received more protection from the university than my friends did. In the real world, if he pulled shit like that he would have been put in a hospital. That didn't happen in part because at Tufts there is a police department that patrols everything, and no one would have been able to beat him half-dead and leave the scene scot-free, which isn't to say that my friends would have beat him up otherwise. Tufts ostensibly claims to value the emotional and intellectual well-being of its students, and it claims to value protecting its students from hateful attacks. In this case, it failed. They didn't just fail in preventing the attack from happening. They failed in properly recognizing the attack perpetrated and they fail in creating solutions that properly address it.

Someone else asked me why I care so much, why I haven't just learned to tolerate it and know my place like most Asian Americans. I guess it's a funny product of the fact that I myself belonged to a very privileged class in my own country and the fact that I never really had an experience with oppression on the level that Asian Americans face in this country. I guess I'm not so good at bearing it, and I still cannot comprehend "knowing my place."

I must add however, a positive note. Despite the fact that I have met so many people who in their ignorance deride not just me or my views, but my sense of justice, I have met so many more who support me and believe the same things and tell me to keep writing and keep fighting. For all the haters, I have never felt so powerful in my life.