Events from 2020, such as the death of George Floyd, have brought the deeply pervasive and entrenched racist systems in the Western world to light. Furthermore, discourse on social media has highlighted how these racist systems are rooted in a hierarchy of white superiority and is a legacy of history, of which directly brings historical monuments and memorials into the question. Solidly carved historical figures cast in stone or metal and dotted around our streets might seem trivial, but the rejection of those figures that facilitated present racism is vital to determining a compassionate society’s commitment to dismantle structural racism and dissolve anti-Black sentiments in every non-Black community. Statues function as symbols of commemoration and celebration of the figures they immortalise, and whilst they are products of the morals of their time, they should also continuously serve society a purpose that fits its contemporary needs. The likes of slave traders such as Edward Colston, eugenics such as Cecil Rhodes, or confederate statues in the US, exist to offend those they oppressed and uphold the systems that need changing. The most common argument against taking offensive statues down is that statues are a reminder of history. This is undeniably true, but there is a fine line between remembering history and championing slave traders and imperialists; the former can be achieved without the latter. Putting Edward Colston on the same pedestal as the likes of revolutionary people in the endeavour of social justice, such as Emmeline Pankhurst who was pivotal in the British suffragette movement, blurs the basic threshold of a statue to the audience--that of an existence of the historical figure’s overarching goodness and positive significance which justifies its continuous immortalisation. Just as there would be no question of removing symbols such as the German swastika, we should also hold the same standard in the opposing side of history: namely, a centuries-old system that sold Black people like commodities or a violent, genocidal colonial past, both which directly created the system that currently benefits some and subjugates others. Pulling the statues down not only exposes the racism in our hospitals, workplaces, schools and other spheres of society, it acknowledges and condemns how they were created and is the first step towards reform. Even if there is ambiguity in the purpose of a statue, such that a controversial figure still has the potential to inform the past, they hardly serve as a history lesson in intention or in practice. The intention is clearly to celebrate a figure despite or even because of their racist actions, but their statues are also futile in being informative practically. Even when descriptions of their life exist, it is condensed and cherry-picked to fit an agenda of heroism, such as that of Churchill--in addition to being a WW2 leader, he was also the direct cause of 4 million Bengals’ starvation and concentration camps in Kenya and South Africa, all with underlying white supremacist reasons. Instead of arguing that statues like Edward Colston in Bristol somehow sufficiently inform history, we should encourage making the barbarism of Britain’s past a compulsory topic in schools’ syllabuses to restore history. This provides the historical context that future generations need in order to be anti-racist, which an inexpressive and desolate stone figure cannot provide. Indeed, the destruction of Colston’s statue was arguably the single event that shed light on who he was to the majority of Britain’s population, of which did not hold the slightest familiarity to his name prior. Thus, there is simply nothing to lose from letting go of them. Those that fight for the continuation of these statues do not offer suggestions on other anti-racism reform simultaneous to their irrational cries. In fact, they do not even offer to shift the statues to a museum, where the educational setting makes the purpose clear. Their rebuttal that it ‘erases history’ sounds nothing more than a common weapon that deliberately strives to trigger and provoke supporters of anti-racism movements. It is a seemingly innocent rebuttal that in effect, implicitly justifies the white supremacist, imperialist beliefs that led to the creation of said statues in the first place. Structural racism cannot be abolished unless the past ideologies that directly created the system in place now are challenged and denounced. Furthermore, the argument of ‘erasing history’ is hypocritical, as records of atrocities of the British Empire were abolished by the British government whilst the people that pursued them were still memorialised. ‘Operation Legacy’ ran during the end of the British Empire from the 1950s-1970s, and sought to systematically destroy documents that described the maltreatment and killings of those that were colonised, as well as revolts such as the Mau Mau Uprising. Thus, not only do the statues fail to inform and educate, they are active tools in whitewashing and hiding the history of those that were oppressed, far from the informative pieces of culture that some think they represent. Racist statues exist as humiliation and degradation to the people they actively exploited. Given the historical figures’ role in creating present structural racism, keeping their presence only continuously underpin and strengthen the status quo, by upholding and championing those who perpetuated it. Not bringing them down evokes a sense of ‘do nothing’ and harmful apathy when it comes to acknowledging a racist past, alienating the people that are directly offended by it. As Priyamvada Gopal said, “History isn’t just for the taking: it is also for the making”. History is constantly being rewritten, and being inclusive of the history of people of colour and critical of past violence of slavery and colonialism should be welcomed if we truly want to eradicate systemic racism. Dismantling racist statues is only the first step towards acknowledging the shortcomings in a glorified past, and is a part of holding present institutions accountable in the pursuit of equity. It is a door to put more pressure on reform: as a result of the downfall of Cecil Rhodes’ statue, universities have since renamed buildings named after eugenics, and pledged more funding towards scholarships of Black and ethnic minority students. When critically examining the impact that these statues have and the beliefs they uphold in an ever-progressive, inclusive, and compassionate society, they undoubtedly have no place in a public setting. - Jiaying Zhang

Dear Asian Youth, I won’t lie—when an email informed me I wouldn’t be going back to school for the rest of the year, I was bummed. My friends and I all shared the mindset of “COVID-19 will blow over soon.” We saw Covid as an addition to our spring break, not a month long pandemic. Unfortunately, I would spend the rest of my junior year in Texas “hanging out” with my friends through virtual calls. As a teenager, I am constantly plugged into an electronic device, but translating all components of your life digitally is exhausting, to put it simply. I am a shy person by nature, but being isolated without a daily form of socialization stresses me out. You could cherry-pick who you chose to communicate with, and your “real friends” would reveal themselves to you. That classmate that you sat with every day became a stranger and your friend group dynamic changes as well. There’s one person I’ve known for several years; I’ll give her the alias Al. I met her years ago when I first arrived at my current school. She was the first person I befriended. We came from separate realms, but together we created a whole image. Confrontation and discord scared me, so her confidence drew me in. I appreciated her outspokenness because the concept was foreign and enchanting for me. Now, I admire and hate her for it. Once I was sitting at home bored and sending off a new text every second (as someone struck with isolation does), I remember talking to a mutual friend, and Al came up. She asked me, “Ella, when will you stop making excuses for Al?” I didn’t understand what she meant. I had allowed Al’s more unsavory actions to slide because as a friend I shouldn’t judge, right? I hated rocking the boat. Even worse, arguments made my stomach lurch. It’s embarrassing, but I used to turn away from injustices to keep the peace. This summer I was asked to participate as a student leader for a non-black POC affinity program for a Black Lives Matter alliance group. I was shaken awake to social injustices (that I should’ve been more in tune with before), and a match of passion was lit. I wanted the event to have high attendance, so naturally, I invited Al to sign up. She texted back, “Hmm, I’m not sure if that’s my thing.” I thought: fighting for human rights wasn’t her thing? Seeking justice for people of color wasn’t her thing? Per usual, I just said, “oh okay,” and swiped out of the chat. This was the first time I realized my ignorance of her passiveness. However, it wasn’t the last. Now, I take responsibility for being complicit and silent in the face of her insensitive behavior. That’s why I am writing this. I want to tell you that you shouldn’t be afraid to speak out against aggression pointed at you. I think it’s ingrained in Asian children that we should be obedient to powerful people. I’m tired of hearing things like, “guys don’t like Asian girls.” The glaring question is: are they truly your friends if they jab at you like that? My friend group is all Asian except for Al, but somehow she still held influence over me. “Allies are people who stand up in your absence.” Someone used this definition of allyship in a zoom event I had attended. I spent my life being a “yes, ma’am” person because of the head-down mentality instilled within me. But I’m retaking my voice now. I’m not trying to expose or attack Al in this piece; I want to show an example of someone who isn’t a true friend. Faith in oneself is already difficult to find without being tease. I don’t believe “microaggressions” exist because they are truly full-fledged hostilities. I won’t stand for anybody invalidating mine or my friends’ experiences as Asian women; oppression has already followed us for so long. Too long. Toxicity was apparent to my eyes, I just chose to ignore it. There’s no time to look back. The beauty of writing is it gives you a voice when oral expressions fail you (for me, at least). I idolized Al’s direct personality because I lacked it. Virtual learning forced me to confront the flashing red warnings and sirens I had long disregarded. I think that being alone with myself reawakened thoughts I pushed away. My ignorance stemmed from my desire to assimilate and be liked by others. When someone feeds you veiled negative thoughts constantly, it tends to dig its way into your subconscious. My desire to cling onto my friendship with Al previously outweighed my desire to speak out. I want to tell Asian youth to prioritize themselves and cut out harmful friends, as hard as it is. Just because someone says they are an ally doesn’t mean that they truly are. - Ella Ip

I’ve been told that I’m too outspoken. I’ve been told that my whole generation is outspoken from strangers, to friends, to family I’ve been told that our outspokenness is a problem, That I am the problem. I mean, I guess we can talk too much, talk too loud, talk until we don’t know when to shut up but there just seems to be endless problems all around us, Consuming our thoughts and reality persistently Pressing up against our throats, Transforming this world into a never ending hell- Wait. I’m sorry, I almost forgot, We are already burning, Our Earth is failing and living out her last years, but I guess I’ll have to just stop and let it be, For your convenience, I’ve decided to not be outspoken because the best thing that I can do is stay put, and no. Raising awareness is just not the answer.. You know, you’re right. I think that the younger generations should just be thankful for once in our lives Be so thankful and forget all the hardships you’ve passed on to us, Look at this perfect painting we’ve been given, stare at it, Admire it, hang it up where everyone will see what you’ve given, But don’t touch it. Don’t peel back its layers and reveal the faded picture Don’t try to create change. Don’t even try, Let me inspire you, but not too much. Only up to the point where my struggles become anchors weighing you down, and my story is one in a billion, one that you will never reach, Please, stop. Your protesting is getting annoying, When will you appreciate the things you have and stop complaining. I tell you that my generation knows how diverse we are. We know what you have given us, Both the wonders and messes, So I’m sorry if we’re too outspoken. I’m sorry if we talk too much, or too loud, or until we don’t know when to shut up. But there’s actual change that needs to happen. Change is happening right now, We need to change, create it, be it, We coexist between your meaningless remarks and our changemaking voices, So you’re welcome, for being too outspoken.

Dear Asian Youth, Hush. Be quiet. Silence yourself. You’re ruining your aesthetic. All phrases people have said to me, even my own friends, when seeing the things I’ve posted the pieces I’ve written. I’m expected to follow in their empty footsteps, sitting on the sidelines just to watch and yell a sugar coated cheer every now and then Only to be washed away by waves of blissful ignorance I’m expected to disregard how our world is crumbling into ashes Rejoice in our privileged bubbles It doesn’t affect me, so why should I care about it? Their profiles remain stagnant As their feed reflects from my glasses I think, it’s tempting To just stop. My mind wanders to all of the times that I thought I wasn’t doing enough All of the times when I felt burnt out trying to keep up with everything, What if I went against my activism? My mother holds my face in her hands “Anak, don’t be so radical,” As she scoffs at the videos of protests and riots That she would never let me attend. Her eyes pierce my skin Slicing through my opinionated words Stripping away my confidence But her face softens As her expression morphs into worry Is she against my activism? My father listen to the radio His fingers turning up the volume button I watch in disgust He smiles in agreement Nodding his head along as the reporters mock BLM Mock what I’ve been advocating for this whole time Mock my efforts to campaign for equality So is he too Against my activism? I’ve had multiple arguments with my parents Our beliefs clashing Colliding Asteroids crashing into Earth Explosive reactions I try to convince them why I believe what I do While they shoot back telling me I shouldn’t care so much And I understand, I do Keep an open mind, my mom repeats to me I breathe and I nod, my smile weak They’re trying to protect me from going in over my head From becoming an extremist, a political terrorist But I have to remind myself I’m not like that. I’m not some passive little girl Waiting for our justice to be served on a silver platter Watching my friends just overlooking global outrage Wishing that I could do the same to fit in I’m not some quiet little doll To be shaped into the toxic norms of our society As my parents hint at me that I shouldn’t grow up like this Though I appreciate their concern Yet I don’t understand why they’re so unwilling to learn I demand for change I demand for equality I demand that our poisoned society reform itself The venomous fangs of injustice sinking into our skin I demand that we recognize we have the antidote, the remedy Absorb and allow ourselves to heal Allow it to course through our veins So I Julianne Tenorio Embrace my ideas Appreciate my participation And swear to never go against my activism. - Julianne

Dear Asian Youth, Welcome to your first day of class! If you grew up in the U.S., you probably read a lot of “classic” fairy tales when you were younger, like the ones by the Grimm brothers or Hans Christian Andersen. You may have even learned about Egyptian, Greek, or Roman mythology in your other classes. It’s also possible that you developed an interest in some specific subset of mythology, which for me was Irish folklore because I was easily able to find a really informative and fun Magic Tree House: Fact Tracker book on the topic. But my favorite fairy tale was always Yeh-Shen (or Ye Xian): A Cinderella Story from China, a children’s book I found one day while roaming the aisles of my local library. I had never read a story from Asian folklore before, but here this book was, the only one of its kind on the shelf, waiting for me to read it. I was gripped by the beautiful illustrations and storytelling, both of which were so much more interesting to me than that of the Cinderella stories I had read before. After finding Yeh-Shen, though, to my disappointment, I was never able to find another story like it. My experience with Asian mythology ended as quickly as it began. But I could find at least a dozen versions of Cinderella where she was white. In fact, I could find just about any myths and fairy tales where the characters, or at least the main protagonist, were white. The message was loud and clear: the stories of Asian people, my people, were unimportant. But that’s not true. Our folklore has always been beautiful, and it has always deserved to be read, and taught, and passed on. So, for myself and all my students (and readers) of Vietnamese descent, I’m adding a new unit on Vietnamese mythology to our curriculum. Take your seats, class, and get out your notebooks—you never know if you’ll have a pop quiz on this material! Chapter 1: An Introduction to Vietnamese Mythology 1.1 Creation Story: Ȃu Cơ and Lạc Long Quân A creation story details the spiritual or mythological origins of a culture, people, or place. The idea that all Vietnamese people are descendants of dragons and fairies came from this particular creation story. The king of Xích Quỷ (also known as the Land of the Red Demons, south of the Yangtze River), Lạc Long Quân, which translates to “Dragon Lord of Lạc,” was the son of a mountain god and water dragon with the body of a dragon who used magical abilities to fight such monsters as Ngư Tinh, the sea monster, Hồ Tinh, the mountain monster, and Phong Châu, the evil genie. Ȃu Cơ was a fairy goddess-princess and healer from the northern mountains who could transform into a bird at a moment’s notice. There are two different stories for how the two met and fell in love. The first: after the Northern mountain people came to Lạc Long Quân’s Southern lowland kingdom, Lạc Long Quân met Ȃu Cơ, the chieftain’s daughter. The two fell in love and ran off together to Lạc Long Quân’s mountain palace. The second: Ȃu Cơ was healing villagers when she was ambushed by a beast and transformed into a bird to escape. Lạc Long Quân showed up and conquered the beast, causing Ȃu Cơ falling in love with him. Their legend continues that the two settled exactly in-between the mountains and the ocean, where Ȃu Cơ laid a sac of 100 eggs and their children were born. As time went on and their children grew up, both Lạc Long Quân and Ȃu Cơ missed their lands immensely and felt that their lives were incompatible together, from the contrast of fire and water in their spirits, to the different customs they honored. Together, they decided to return to their respective homes with 50 of their children, so that half of the family would grow up in the mountains, and half in the sea, where they would develop skills and occupations that matched their environments. Despite the distance, Lạc Long Quân and Ȃu Cơ’s love still rung true, so they swore to always meet at the middle ground if ever they needed one another’s help. 1.2 Nature Myth: Sơn Tinh and Thưy Tinh A nature myth explains some sort of natural phenomenon through supernatural means. This myth explains the monsoon season of Vietnam. Sơn Tinh, a mountain spirit, was one of the Four Immortals, a cult of gods worshipped in Vietnam. Thưy Tinh was the sea spirit. The two came upon a conflict when King Hùng Vương VI began a search for a worthy husband for his daughter, Princess Mỵ Nương, and both gods came to propose to her, promising to make her the queen of each of the worlds and vowed to offer all they could to earn her love. Since both were equal in stature and power, in order to decide which of these men he would arrange his daughter’s marriage with, the king asked Sơn Tinh and Thưy Tinh to bring special gifts of his choice the following day, which were 100 pots of rice, 100 bánh chưng (or square rice cakes), an elephant with nine tusks, a rooster with nine spurs, and a horse with nine colors in its mane. Sơn Tinh arrived first at the break of dawn with the gifts, and doing so won the princess’s heart and hand, marrying her straight away. When Thưy Tinh found that he had lost and Sơn Tinh and Princess Mỵ Nương had been married, he raised the seas in rage and caused a great storm, to which Sơn Tinh responded by raising the mountains. Despite Sơn Tinh’s efforts to protect the land and the people, there was a great deal of flooding and destruction. After days of fighting one another, Thưy Tinh finally grew tired and lowered the sea again. But every year, he returns to fight Sơn Tinh again to exact revenge for his loss at a chance with Mỵ Nương. 1.3 Food Tale: Bánh Chưng and Bánh Dầy Food-related mythology often describes the origins of culturally significant dishes. This myth details how bánh chưng and bánh dầy, two types of rice cakes, came to be created, and thus enjoyed by the Vietnamese people to this day. The story goes that King Hùng Vương asked his 18 sons to each bring him their most fantastic and unique dish as a test for him to use to choose his heir. Most of his sons were highly accomplished and rich, being skilled in areas such as martial arts or literature. But his youngest, Tiết Liệu, lived a simple life on a farm with his family. His dish, too, was just as simple as he was. One version of the story says that a deity came to Tiết Liệu in a dream instructing him on the dish to make. Whatever the case, instead of doing elaborate hunting, fishing, and cooking like his brothers, Tiết Liệu harvested rice with his rice and family, his wife made the rice into a paste, and his children cooked them into cakes and wrapped them in banana leaves. They created two types of rice cakes: bánh chưng, the earth cake, which was a square shaped cake of rice and mung beans wrapped in leaves, and bánh dầy, the sky or sun cake, which was a round cake of glutinous rice dough. When Tiết Liệu and his wife presented these dishes to his father, all his brothers laughed at him. But after seeing and trying them, the king named Tiết Liệu’s dishes the purest and most significant, being so simple and accessible to all people, and yet so elevated in taste and pleasure. Tiết Liệu was named the new king and gained newfound respect from his brothers. The thing about mythologies is they aren’t merely collections of fun fairy tales that we spend a period of our youth reading and obsessing over—they’re stories that serve as a cultural bridge to our greater pasts. They spiritually connect us to our ancestors through storytelling, which forever serves as one of the most important forms of communication and art throughout every culture. This is a connection that can be taken for granted by people with easy access to extensive familial and cultural histories. But for children of diaspora, such as myself, who have a lost connection to their language and cannot trace back their ancestry beyond grandparents, these stories are a lifeline. I hope that this piece serves to connect other Vietnamese youth with their culture in a way I never knew was possible before. And I hope that, one day, these are commonplace stories, taught in schools and found in plenty on those library shelves I used to search high and low for just one measly book, and passed on like heirlooms for the rest of our history, never to be forgotten again. - Kyla-Yến

Dear Asian Youth, On July, 3rd, 2020, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, the pro-shot recording of Hamilton: An American Musical was released on Disney Plus. The live recording of the dearly-beloved Broadway show is acclaimed by many, ranging from theatre kids to technologically-illiterate elders. The release of Hamilton as a musical was revolutionary; it strayed from the norm with its eclectic instrumentation, vivid, rap-style lyrics, biographical storyline, and, an aspect of this show that I’ll highlight later, the diverse casting. Rather than having a traditionally modern-contemporary sound, Hamilton draws from a variety of genres: hip-hop, rap, R&B, swing, jazz, and more. Hamilton retells the story of Alexander Hamilton, one of America’s most significant founding fathers for being one of the most intense supporters of the U.S. Constitution and establishing the nation’s financial beginnings as the first secretary of the U.S. Treasury. It starts off with his contribution to the American Revolution and then bleeds into the origin of what is now the United States of America. But Hamilton is much more than a story about American history. It mirrors the reality of the past, present, and future. In “Alexander Hamilton”, the musical’s opening number, the company of the show joins together to briefly inform listeners about Hamilton’s origins: He comes from a life in poverty before a hurricane strikes his homeland, devastating him and his entire vicinity. When he was ten, “his father split.” Two years later, Hamilton and his mother came down with an illness: “Alex got better, but his mother went quick.” After his cousin, with whom Hamilton began living, died, Hamilton decided to devote his time to finding a new life; he spent his time studying and gathering money to move away to New York City. This song highlights how Hamilton is an outlier; this introduction seems to be reminiscent of Shakespearean prologues, yet the rap-style wording throughout the number helps bring theatre to a modern audience, blending the traditional with the new and creating something revolutionary. Although it’s a very specific experience, many minorities, especially immigrants and people of color, can relate to fighting for change and a better life. In general, the story of Alexander Hamilton is a recitation of a man who pursues the American Dream, something that many immigrants and people of the lower class have sought out to do. However, Hamilton’s story is portrayed as if he were a man who rose from the ashes with ease rather than years of struggle, turmoil, and near-death experiences, which are briefly addressed in the opening number, but the show is entertaining and inspiring, nonetheless. Now let’s talk about a big issue in the entertainment industry that Hamilton addresses. Representation. Many Broadway musicals have been very Eurocentric, with roles like Jenna in Waitress or almost every character in The Phantom of the Opera being played by white people. At times, the only Asian representation available is in shows that are inadvertently racist or portray Asians under racial stereotypes. There have even been times in which Asian characters are played by white people; think Jonathan Pryce and Keith Burns in the roles of the Engineer and Thuy in Miss Saigon. I would love to see more people of color on Broadway. A woman of color could easily play Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West in Wicked, a well-known, Tony Award-winning retelling of The Wizard of Oz. In relation to the story, it would make a lot of sense, for she faces adversity due to the color of her skin, yet the majority of women who have played that role on Broadway are white. But then, you have Hamilton. Almost the entire original main cast of Hamilton comprises people of color. Lin-Manuel Miranda, the writer of Hamilton who you may know from other hits like In The Heights and Moana, prioritized casting people of color in the original Broadway cast of Hamilton. In a New York Times interview, Miranda said, “Our cast looks like America looks now, and that’s certainly intentional.” It’s a story to which many immigrants and people of color can relate, and by casting minorities in such large roles and highlighting diversity, the story becomes that much more inspiring, life-like, and relatable. In an industry plagued by Eurocentrism and a lack of diversity, Hamilton is an outlier, and because of that, it’s a beloved musical that means a lot more to many than what meets the eye. On the other hand, the show does have some flaws in terms of certain historical aspects that it lacks. Hamilton portrays the Founding Fathers, white slave owners, as the underdogs who learn to “rise up.” It fails to highlight the racism at the time, retelling the stories of Alexander Hamilton and the other characters in the show as though they were one of us. Personally, I believe that although Hamilton briefly mentions slavery throughout its runtime, the failure to address slavery is one of the poorest aspects of the entire show. However, I believe that the story of Hamilton has the power to make people take a stand. Our generation is fierce; we know what’s wrong in the world and use our voices to tackle those problems head-on. With the show’s effect on society in terms of the entertainment industry, it has bled into activism, with many quoting lyrics from Hamilton and even putting lyrics on signs at protests. Even with its flaws, the widely-loved show is inspiring, and I feel that even though watchers may not see the full picture, it has the power to unite people through one common interest: rising up and fighting for what you believe. As written by Miranda, “Immigrants: we get the job done.” - Sebastian Paragas Sources: https://losangeles.cbslocal.com/top-lists/why-hamilton-the-musical-is-important-to-our-history/ https://www.nytimes.com/2015/07/13/theater/hamilton-heads-to-broadway-in-a-hip-hop-retelling.html#:~:text=But%20an%20audacious%20hip%2Dhop,arrives%20with%20a%20powerful%20tailwind.

Dear Asian Youth, Across America, we are witnessing a revolution. Uprisings against systemic racism are continuing in the wake of the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and countless others. The Black Lives Matter movement has forced us to reckon with the brutal realities of racism in the United States, and, like many of you, I have been having ongoing conversations about these topics within my own community. As a first-generation Asian American, I am very blessed to have been surrounded by a large Indian community here in Seattle throughout my entire life. I have a circle of friends, aunts, and uncles who share my brown skin and have known me since birth. Within this tight-knit community, I am able to celebrate my heritage, especially during holidays such as Diwali: our festival of lights and one of the most important holidays in Indian culture. They keep me close to my South Asian identity as a student at a predominantly white high school. We are inextricably connected to one another, bonded by our rich culture and shared experiences. It seems that these uprisings have forced us to think about and discuss issues of race with a deeper nuance and complexity than ever before. We have been discussing issues of racism on a systemic level as well as the ways in which the South Asian community benefits from white supremacy. During these conversations, however, I continue to notice a certain group being particularly quiet. *hint hint* It isn't the girls. Many of the guys within my South Asian circle actively use aspects of Black culture in their daily life. They listen to rap music by Black artists, compare sneaker collections, call themselves “hypebeasts”, and post about their favorite Black athletes routinely on their Instagram stories. Despite this, ALL of them have remained virtually silent on social media amidst the Black Lives Matter movement and are unwilling to engage in substantial dialogue about systemic racism. Why are brown boys who regularly exploit Black culture and the labor of Black people to appear “trendy” and “hype” refusing to make even the slightest effort to support the basic human rights of Black people? It is as though their “brownness” provides them with a racial shield, exempting them from ever having to *gasp* examine their privilege or speak up against racism. It is this same “protection” that allows many to think they have a “free pass” to use the n-word. No, Desi-frat-boy, you absolutely DO NOT have permission. Your indifferent attitude towards saying the n-word and willful ignorance of the issues facing the Black community are symptoms of the anti-Blackness and the heteropatriarchy that are deeply ingrained within South Asian culture. It’s no secret that anti-blackness is rampant within the South Asian community. Asians have essentially been used as pawns by white colonizers to justify racism. When the Immigration Act of 1965 passed in the United States, only the most highly educated Asians were permitted to enter the country, perpetuating the model minority myth and showcasing them as upper-class citizens. Not to mention the notions of colorism perpetuated by colonial powers and booming skin lightening industries. Couple this with the hypermasculinity and misogyny that are instilled in brown boys from a young age and their behavior has especially toxic manifestations. Unfortunately, misogyny and rape culture are very prevalent within Desi culture as well. Many South Asian countries are dominated by patriarchal structures. Children internalize these notions from at a very young age. Girls learn to be subservient while boys are often seen as naturally “violent”, justifying cases of rape and gender-based brutality by placing the blame on women and girls rather than the perpetrators. Sexual violence against South Asian women is sadly ubiquitous, yet rarely covered by main-stream media. According to a study done by the Asian Pacific Institute on Gender-Based Violence, 64% of Indian and Pakistani women have experienced sexual violence by an intimate partner. This deep-rooted misogyny continues to be passed down to generations which is why it continues to persist in the U.S as well. Just recently, a new wave of high school and higher education #metoo movements broke out in America, predominantly in the New York City area among brown girls. Hundreds of social media accounts were created via Instagram and Twitter where girls shared stories and experiences of sexual harassment, violence, and all-around misogynistic behavior they faced from South Asian boys at their schools. Student activist Hiba Sohail also constructed the term “Brown Boy Misogyny” in a recent article she wrote exposing the lack of accountability brown men face for their sexist jokes and harmful normalization of rape culture. Sohail breaks down this behavior into the form of a pyramid structure, describing how sexist jokes and rhetoric (Simping), lead to slut-shaming (Mia Khalifa), ultimately resulting in coercion and rape (Guilty). Clearly, this dangerous misogyny continues to be perpetuated by brown boys and not only impacts women and girls but also contributes to their silence on social justice issues like the Black Lives Matter movement. Boys are often used to having their voices centered in the spaces they enter. Their male privilege makes it more difficult for them to empathize with marginalized communities that are often not included in these spaces, making them much less inclined to speak out about issues. South Asian boys specifically, while they do experience racism and discrimination, also face pressure to proximate to whiteness. From the toxic masculinity they’ve absorbed within their own culture and internalized racism, many feel that their masculinity will be invalidated if they advocate for communities that fall outside of their male identities. They fear being labeled as “soft” or “girly” by their male friends. Brown Boys: you must do better. Please examine your internalized misogyny and anti-Blackness. Engage in discussions about social justice issues and call out friends and family for racist and sexist comments. Ask yourself: “How am I complicit in harming marginalized communities and what will I do to correct this behavior?” Finally, if anyone makes fun of you for it then trust me, you’re much better off without them. - Siona Cover photo source: Hiba Sohail, https://www.browngirlmagazine.com/2020/07/unpacking-brown-boy-misogyny/

Dear Asian Youth, Hollywood has a strange way of portraying individuals, societies, cultures, and ideas. With its popular movie industry, it is able to subtly promote what is known as cultural imperialism. There are countless movies set in foreign countries outside the western hemisphere that are voiced in English. By implying that all foreigners speak English in their native countries, American cinema promotes the American language, speech, and culture in non-American societies. This has a negative effect on different cultures by discreetly pushing them to become more Americanized and changing the way Americans perceive foreign cultures. A recent movie that demonstrates Hollywood’s Americanization of a foreign society is the blockbuster Crazy Rich Asians. A little more than a year ago, the film Crazy Rich Asians hit theaters nationwide. For the past twenty-five years, The Joy Luck Club had been the only major film starring a majority-Asian cast. Although Crazy Rich Asians was widely celebrated for its Asian representation, the movie was not very fulfilling to its Chinese viewers for several reasons. Firstly, Hollywood virtually erased the entire non-Chinese population of Singapore, where the movie is set. This, along with the characters speaking British and American English rather than Singaporean English, poorly reflected the authentic ethnic makeup of the true setting. Out of Singapore’s four official languages, Chinese is only third on the list, and even then it is Mandarin Chinese. In the film, every character, with the exception of the grandmother, speaks Cantonese Chinese. In Singapore, less than 15% of the total population speaks Cantonese. Now picture this: a Chinese movie portraying all the American characters (except the grandmother) as German speakers. How accurate would that depiction be? Additionally, the majority of Chinese families are not as wealthy and glamorous as Hollywood depicts them to be. The movie shows only the top one percent of Chinese families, the fairytale society, the Youngs of the world. This isn’t relatable to the average Chinese citizen. Of course, the movie is titled Crazy Rich Asians and accordingly, will advertise wealthy Asian families. However, in being the only modern blockbuster with Asian representation in Hollywood, the film is only reinforcing stereotypical beliefs—such as the model minority myth—that all Asians are prosperous and live upscale, extravagant lifestyles. Lastly, many ways of the Young family are not considered Chinese in the least. It is highly uncommon for an entire Chinese family to have English names rather than Chinese names. The Young family’s English names are another connection to their British ties, suggesting they are culturally more British than they are Chinese. For example, Eleanor Young boasts to Rachel that she attended Oxford University as a social experience and to find a husband, rather than as an educational experience. To the Chinese, this behavior is deeply disgraceful since education is strongly emphasized in society. Confucian values emphasize lifelong learning, as it is believed to be intertwined with character-building and self-improvement. To reiterate, there is no issue with a movie titled Crazy Rich Asians being about literal crazy rich Asians. The problem is the lack of representation of actual Asian culture in movies pretending to depict the same. Hollywood is not portraying authentic Chinese culture. It is portraying a carefully-crafted mix of American and British culture with a hint of Chinese influence. Movies are such a popular media format that it is crucial not to broadcast inaccuracies or stereotypes. As Americans, we should realize that characters of a specific culture should be played by actors of that culture. We shouldn’t dismiss a movie because its actors don’t fit the criteria of what we consider “normal.” We should be open to the idea of seeing people of color on screen, not hidden away backstage. In a country built upon foreign cultures, showcasing diversity shouldn’t be a foreign concept. As moviegoers and film fanatics, you are critical to the success of Hollywood movies. As the audience, you hold immense power in deciding which types of movies flourish, and more importantly, which types don’t. In expressing interest in foreign cultures and advocating for more representation, you can help overcome the prejudice in the cinematic industry, and, from there, the real world. - Chloe Deng

Know Me they’re meant to set an example for how your life may end up, make mistakes so that you don’t have to. but my parents haven’t lived through what i have, and their lives are therefore different than how mine will be. most teenagers say their parents don’t understand them, talk about loneliness and fierce individualism, but deep down, crave affirmation. my parents understand me; my obsessive need for control, my sarcastic nature, my uninhibited ambition, they understand all that. they know me. they know the facets of my soul, know the way i think, analyze everything; i am not them, and they understand that i will be different. my life will not be the same as theirs, for i am a girl with red-and-gold in her blood, raised and painted and red-and-white. i have privilege that i cannot fathom, have luxuries i take for granted, i am as much a white girl as any of my friends. so why it is so hard for everyone else to see past the ochre tones of my skin, past the almond shape of my eyes, see me? why can’t i be like you? Blaze if she was programmed from her parents' dna, she’d have her mother's pebble blue eyes and her father's broad grin, she’d be tall and lean with hair in dark waves; she’d finally be like them. she would be white and have all the privilege associated. she wouldn't have memories of biting her tongue so she doesn’t rock the boat. she wouldn’t have score marks from when she bit too hard and it bled scarlet, dripping down her teeth. isn't that the perfect metaphor for her? red running down white, just a stream, dwarfed by the ivory marble all around. she shied from pink throughout her childhood, for it was too reminiscent of her quotidian life: melded red and white mocking her failures to assimilate. but she changes, that little girl scared of who she is supposed to be and what she is supposed to say. refuses to sit still as they dulcify with blue teddies and white blankets. rises from the world telling her to conform, she burns pink. and she knows if she had her mother’s blue eyes, she wouldn’t know the red that ripples in her hair, she wouldn’t know the way she can set the world ablaze, she wouldn’t know anything but ice. pale, cold, white. she’s beautiful in all the ways a girl should be, but she’s delicate; summer’s scorch would melt her first touch. ice melts, but fire continues to blaze. "know me" is a piece about belonging. As a transracial adoptee raised in a predominantly white area, I have struggled with the notion of 'fitting in' all my life. "know me" expresses some of the thoughts I have had over the years about the fickle nature of 'belonging.' "blaze" serves as a sequel of sorts to "know me." Where "know me" veers towards petulance and lamentation, "blaze" addresses how one may change as a result of not 'belonging' and how that transformation may ultimately strengthen an individual's character. Biography: Sarah Rabby's works have been previously featured by Eve Poetry and Poets of Alberta, and will soon appear in anthologies from Ink Movement, Lemon Daisy Poetry, and Train River. Find her @sarahrabbywriting on Instagram.

Dear Asian Youth, Take a second and picture yourself back in the wondrous days of being a child, where your priority lies in which crayon to use on the scribbles that’s your most recent masterpiece. You're at the shopping mall trailing your parents turning the corner into the beloved toy aisle. Excitement bubbling, on your right you’ll find boxes of legos row after row packing the shelves, and to your left, the latest games coated in colorful packaging. A few more steps and you’re there. With a turn of your head, all that can be seen are boxes lined up in perfect view for your youthful eyes. A name catches your eye bright, beaming, and bold. Barbie. Under the encasing of thick layers of plastic, the signature pair of blue eyes, blond hair, and light skin look right back. I’m well aware that on the list of national priorities to focus on, Barbie isn’t high up there. In fact, I don’t think she makes the list. Sorry Barbie! But when bringing up race and how it affects our lives, I want to address something no one really thinks about, or at least no one talks about, dolls. I’m sure the majority of the people now grown up have at some point in their life had a doll. Whether it be the classic Barbie, overpriced American Girl, or some other one bought at the dollar store with a 6 year old throwing a fit attached, we’ve all either owned a few or seen them everywhere. Now think back to that doll and can you tell me what color her skin was? What about her hair or eyes? Let me take a wild shot in the dark, how about a white girl, with blonde or brown hair, and some fitting blue or green eyes that perfectly suit them. Chances are, I hit the mark and the doll you just imagined is the same one every young child in the U.S grew up with. As an Asian-American girl, I walked down that same toy aisle most did, searching for a Barbie that would fit just right with the others in my dollhouse. Being only seven or eight at the time, when searching for a new doll I wasn’t so concerned with what she looked like anymore than the accessories she came with. Up until one day when I stopped to think and a curious thought came to mind, one I never cared to do much about then. I don’t look like her. My hair is black and pin-straight, a long way off from the golden waves. My eyes, a dark brown, commonly mistaken as black when I was younger. Most importantly, my East-Asian skin is a beige far from my white classmates. So as I looked at my pale Barbie who looked so beautiful, I had to wonder why she doesn’t reflect what I see in the mirror. When we think of Barbie, one of, if not her most, memorable features is that she can be whatever she wants to be. Ranging from an astronaut headed to the moon, a scientist coming up with a hypothesis, to a computer programmer leading her way in the STEM field. We can’t help but credit her for inspiring generations of young girls to become whatever it is they aspired to be. She was a true role model and I don’t think it’d be far off to call her a feminist too. I want to make it clear the issues not in what she represents but in who she's representing. Young girls, but not Asian girls. Young girls, but not Indigenous girls. Young girls, but not Black girls. Young girls, but not all young girls. The point I’m trying to get at is, with the market for children’s toys so advancive, how are our children still playing with dolls that aren’t even close to resembling them? I wish I was exaggerating when I tell you that out of Mattel’s more than 170 different types of Barbies, there are only two Asian ones. Two dolls that I never saw and the majority of other Asian girls never saw. What does it mean for a country of all shades to be showing its children that only one is beautiful or only one can achieve success? We talk a great deal about representation in the media nowadays which is a much needed step in the right direction. The lack of actors or shows starring BIPOC even today is astounding, and while we’re moving forward in most industries, the doll one is one most seem to forget. I presume because it’s something most nine years old or older aren’t particularly concerned with. Yet to genuinely embrace diversity and combat racism at an early age, representation targeting children is what’s needed more than ever. A child still learning how to write isn’t aware of the number of films with a BIPOC cast and to be frank, they wouldn’t care. Information regarding race and identity don’t mean much when presented in such an obscure and confusing way. Not that it isn’t crucial to be teaching children these things, but that it wouldn’t be close to effective. By making significantly more dolls that truthfully show what America looks like, it’d be much easier to understand broader concepts and answer questions that will eventually come. So when young children ask “Why does she speak differently than us?” or “Why doesn’t his family eat the same things we do?” we can comfortably do so in a safe environment. I’m not asking you to face multimillion dollar companies or go barging into factories, and it’s not realistic for anyone to want change without long-term solutions that will thoroughly address disparities beyond the days we’re screaming at the top of our lungs for it. What I will ask of you is to think about what you can personally do to grow after reading this. You might further educate yourself on the issues the movements left behind. Or it may just be observing that aisle with a different idea in mind and that’s ok. Normalizing diversity needs to happen at a young age and it needs to happen now. - Danica With representation of minorities being a huge focus in the political/social justice world, I wanted to bring up a factor of representation most people forget about. Thinking about how dolls are one of the earliest ways we're introduced to the concept and impact of race is what I found interesting and wanted to explore. It brings up ideas like how we can create an easier understanding of concepts of race for children, or what role does representation have regarding covert racism? If we can connect race back to something as common as a doll, it's not far off to assume there are many more aspects of life that trace back to race as well. Biography: My name is Danica Seto and I'm a high school freshman. I'm an Asian-American who ironically enough plays the violin and enjoys doing math. Besides the stereotypes, I'm also involved in programs helping my community and have an interest in social justice issues. My passion for spreading awareness and activism is why I write, to hopefully bridge some conversation on important topics and stir up change. Instagram: @danica_seto

Dear Asian Youth, The Philippines is currently in a battle against two raging pandemics: Covid-19 and corruption. Since early March, the Philippines has been on a nationwide lockdown, earning the country the title of the ‘world's longest stay-at-home orders. However, despite being on lockdown, cases in the Philippines have continue to rise day by day. Currently, the Philippines has the highest number of cases in ASEAN, with over 182,000 being confirmed. The Department of Health (DOH) has also implemented a mass recovery system, where asymptomatic and mild cases are considered as ‘recovered’. This system has left numerous Filipinos confused, as based on scientific research, patients who still have either asymptomatic or mild cases still have the ability to transmit the disease. Following the newly-implemented system, the Ateneo De Manila University has conducted a study estimating that roughly 3 million Covid-19 cases in the Philippines have possibly gone undetected. According to researcher Jan Frederick Cruz, ‘an estimated 98 percent of the infections were not discovered during the second quarter of the year’. As of June 2020, the Philippine Government has managed to rack up 9.05 trillion Philippine pesos in debt (around 172 billion USD). This means that to fully pay off this debt, all 110 million Filipinos would have to pay 83,000 PHP (around 1,700 USD). You may be thinking, ‘with all that debt, majority of that money goes to mass testing, and maintaining the welfare of the population, correct?’. To answer that question - no. To quote the DOH’s Secretary, Francisco Duque III, ‘I do not recall that mass testing was ever done’. Of the whole population, the Philippine government plans to target 1-2% of its population, to be tested for Covid-19. With the DOH having no clear plan in sight, almost 300 medical facilities have reached over 70% occupancy. Image Taken from: Ezra Acayan/Getty Images As cases in the Philippines have continued to sky-rocket, the Philippine people are experiencing the negative impact, first-hand. Due to quarantine regulations, as of July 2020, it is reported that 45.5% of the labor force have lost their jobs, with a reported 16.5% decline in the Philippine economy. Despite these shocking numbers, Harry Roque, the presidential spokesperson has stated that it ‘could have been worse’. . Recently, ABS-CBN, the country’s most popular broadcasting network, was ordered an immediate shutdown, with over 11,000 Filipinos losing their jobs. Filipinos have described this as a ‘huge blow to press freedom’, as a wide audience of Filipinos have now lost their access to information. 44 percent of Filipinos relied on ABS-CBN for their source of news and entertainment, labeling the network as the most ‘popular’ network amongst the Philippine audience. Seven out of ten Filipinos expressed their support for the renewal of the ABS-CBN Franchise, indicating the immediate need for a news outlet and 56 percent claimed the non-renewal of the franchise was a "major blow to press freedom", as stated in the Philippine Constitution as a right to every Filipino citizen. Image Taken from: Al Jazeera News Not only is the Philippine suffering an economic downfall, its students are also feeling the backlash of the pandemic. Recently, the Department of Education (DepEd) has announced the new adjustment of the academic calendar, stating that the new opening date for classes will be on October 5, 2020. This new adjustment comes with the multiple cries from students for an ‘academic freeze’. An academic freeze would entail that all students nationwide would stop their schooling until the Covid-19 pandemic’s end, as many students have expressed their financial inability to provide themselves with the means for online classes. However, despite hearing these concerns from students all over the nation, DepEd has been persistent to push through with online distance- learning. Covid-19, corruption, labor loss – is there more? Yes. The Philippine people are now calling out the government because of the attacks on freedom of speech Alongside the shutdown of ABS-CBN comes along the newly-approve ‘Anti-Terrorism Bill’, which allegedly targets activists by allowing warrantless arrests merely based on ‘suspicions of terrorism’, completely disregarding the human right of everyone to be ‘innocent until proven guilty’. All the issues mentioned above have all happened during the lockdown. Corruption and Covid-19 have continued to knock down Filipinos one by one. It has been 5 months into quarantine, and the Philippines is yet to fully feel all the future backlashes these pandemics will have on the country. - Ysabelle Delgrado Amidst a global pandemic, the Philippine government has left its people to fend for themselves. With no assistance, people are dying, not of Covid-19, but of hunger. On top of the pandemic, recent attacks on the Philippine people's human rights have taken place such as the shutdown of ABS-CBN, the most popular Filipino broadcasting network and the new implementation of the Anti-Terrorism Bill. This article is meant to spread awareness of what is truly happening in the Philippines, as the media does not deliver enough coverage. Biography: I'm a 16 year old junior in senior high school, taking the academic STEM strand, in hopes to one day become an epidemiologist. I would consider myself a student-activist because I will not let my voice be silenced. Cover photo source: Karl Romano, https://www.21global.ucsb.edu/global-e/february-2020/global-dynamics-authoritarian-populism

Lao Lao stands in her kitchen, pressing edges of dough into crescents, pork & cabbage & spring onion tucked in to rest under a kneaded roof. Mother prepares the wok, sliding sesame oil across the surface until popping bubbles start harmonizing with the constant whine of a box fan. Too little oil, Lao Lao says, Put too little oil, the dumplings will burn. Elsewhere, Zhenjiang newscasters bicker about Sichuan, about the Kuomintang, accent as biting as an orange slice striking the back of your tongue. Elsewhere, Mother’s daughter stares at characters printed on a stack of sun-yellowed pages, each word as foreign as the province where mother built herself into a woman. Xía Lan needs to learn Chinese, Lao Lao says, You don’t speak Chinese to her at home? Mother places her knife on the pile of dirtied china, turns off the stove. I speak to her, Mother says, But she needs to know English. Mother watches Daughter change the television channel to sesame street, content to watch puppets engage in garbled conversations that at least she can pick out some words she understands. Lao Lao arranges each dumpling into rows on a cracked china plate, terracotta soldiers braced for battle. At least tell me that she can use chopsticks, Lao Lao says, that she can write her own name, say that she loves me. Mother folds her hands on the counter, wedding band dusted in a coat of flour, like frost settling on branches during the Chicago october. Mother knows that later, after all that remains of the dumplings are the pieces seared onto the wok, she’ll return to her white-walled bedroom and her husband hunched in his office and she’ll practice her English until her lips grow tired of assimilation, but consonants are still confused, each word still carrying tonal inflections, each word still its own song. Here, Lao Lao says, life happens too fast. Everyone moves as if time would slip from their fingers if they dared to slow down. In Harbin, people appreciate the time it takes to do a job right. Daughter takes a fork, cuts into a dumpling, steam hissing upwards into Mother’s ears. Mother hears each strand whisper of a city fallen to memory: Remember how a city of ice was built in days, how lanterns gleamed against a freckled twilight. Remember your swollen feet from wandering through rows of street vendors selling candied hawthorns and bamboo trays of baozi while your mother swept dust from your bedroom. Remember a time when your mother would sing as she minced ginger and mandarin swelled from her lips, as beautiful as figure skaters carving circles across the Songhua river. Mother remembers the bag of dumplings sitting frozen at home, remembers the hum of the microwave, how it sounded like a locust’s wings stretching in midsummer. A vignette of a family finding a brief union through food, but also a glimpse into the unfortunately common experience of losing your heritage. Biography: Sarah Huddleston is a seventeen-year-old, half-Chinese, writer from Chicago, Illinois. When she is not writing, Sarah dances ballet and experiments with various vegan confections. Cover photo source: Hannah Zahner, https://camillestyles.com/food/how-to-host-a-potsticker-making-dinner-party/