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How Some Asian-Americans Are Telling Their Relatives That Black Lives Matter

"Changing hearts and minds in our community requires time and trust, and is best shaped with dialogue."

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Hundreds of Asian-Americans collaborated on an open letter, written in real time on Google Docs, challenging their relatives to support Black Lives Matter.

Stephen Maturen / Getty Images

The campaign was kickstarted by New York-based ethnographer Christina Xu after the two most recent high-profile police killings of black men.

She tweeted that she wanted to "get ahead of our community" after the death of Philando Castile in Falcon Heights, Minnesota. Early rumors suggested the police officer in that incident was Asian-American.

Earlier this year, thousands of Asian-Americans rallied in support of New York police officer Peter Liang after his manslaughter conviction in the death of an unarmed black man, and Xu said part of her motivation was "pre-empting" a similar rally.

"But it quickly outgrew that into a more general conversation about anti-Blackness and police violence in America."

Xu tweeted a link to an open Google Docs file, and before she knew it, dozens of people were writing together simultaneously, with many more watching the progress in real time.

I’m on very spotty train wi-fi, but if you want to help me draft this BLM letter to our parents (in English first!): https://t.co/VnBwncNaLP

There are now more than a dozen version of the open letter, including Chinese, Korean, Punjabi, and Hindi translations. Audio, video, and animated versions are also in the works.

People are already sharing the letter with their communities.

A collaborative effort to pen a letter to Asian parents on Black Lives Matter. I’ve had a hard time with this too. https://t.co/8zI1k3TpLw

Dear Mom, Dad, Uncle, Auntie: Black Lives Matter to Us, Too https://t.co/VSIriHG7GF

Xu said the goal was not to make the letter overly academic or pedantic, but to call for empathy. "We wanted to write a letter — not a thinkpiece or an explainer or a history lesson — because changing hearts and minds in our community requires time and trust, and is best shaped with dialogue."

Here's the full English version of the open letter:


Mom, Dad, Uncle, Auntie, Grandfather, Grandmother:

We need to talk.

You may not have grown up around people who are Black, but I have. Black people are a fundamental part of my life: they are my friends, my classmates and teammates, my roommates, my family. Today, I’m scared for them.

This year, the American police have already killed more than 500 people. Of those, 25% have been Black, even though Black people make up only 13% of the population. Earlier this week in Louisiana, two White police officers killed a Black man named Alton Sterling while he sold CDs on the street. The very next day in Minnesota, a police officer shot and killed a Black man named Philando Castile in his car during a routine traffic stop while his girlfriend and her four-year-old daughter looked on. Overwhelmingly, the police do not face any consequences for ending these lives.

This is a terrifying reality that some of my closest friends live with every day.

Even as we hear about the dangers Black Americans face, our instinct is sometimes to point at all the ways we are different from them. To shield ourselves from their reality instead of empathizing. When a policeman shoots a Black person, you might think it’s the victim’s fault because you see so many images of them in the media as thugs and criminals. After all, you might say, we managed to come to America with nothing and build good lives for ourselves despite discrimination, so why can’t they?

I want to share with you how I see things.

It’s true that we face discrimination for being Asian in this country. Sometimes people are rude to us about our accents, or withhold promotions because they don’t think of us as “leadership material.” Some of us are told we’re terrorists. But for the most part, nobody thinks “dangerous criminal” when we are walking down the street. The police do not gun down our children and parents for simply existing.

This is not the case for our Black friends. Many Black people were brought to America as slaves against their will. For centuries, their communities, families, and bodies were ripped apart for profit. Even after slavery, they had to build back their lives by themselves, with no institutional support—not allowed to vote or own homes, and constantly under threat of violence that continues to this day.

In fighting for their own rights, Black activists have led the movement for opportunities not just for themselves, but for us as well. Many of our friends and relatives are only able to be in this country because Black activists fought to open up immigration for Asians in the 1960s. Black people have been beaten, jailed, even killed fighting for many of the rights that Asian Americans enjoy today. We owe them so much in return. We are all fighting against the same unfair system that prefers we compete against each other.

When someone is walking home and gets shot by a sworn protector of the peace—even if that officer’s last name is Liang—that is an assault on all of us, and on all of our hopes for equality and fairness under the law.

For all of these reasons, I support the Black Lives Matter movement. Part of that support means speaking up when I see people in my community—or even my own family—say or do things that diminish the humanity of Black Americans in this country. I am telling you this out of love, because I don’t want this issue to divide us. I’m asking that you try to empathize with the anger and grief of the fathers, mothers, and children who have lost their loved ones to police violence. To empathize with my anger and grief, and support me if I choose to be vocal, to protest. To share this letter with your friends, and encourage them to be empathetic, too.

As your child, I am proud and eternally grateful that you made the long, hard journey to this country, that you've lived decades in a place that has not always been kind to you. You've never wished your struggles upon me. Instead, you’ve suffered through a prejudiced America, to bring me closer to the American Dream.

But I hope you can consider this: the American Dream cannot exist for only your children. We are all in this together, and we cannot feel safe until ALL our friends, loved ones, and neighbors are safe. The American Dream that we seek is a place where all Americans can live without fear of police violence. This is the future that I want—and one that I hope you want, too.

With love and hope,
Your children

You can find translated versions of the letter here.

Ishmael Daro is a social news editor for BuzzFeed and is based in Toronto.

Contact Ishmael N. Daro at ishmael.daro@buzzfeed.com.

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