A Model Minority in the Age of COVID-19
By Liz Jansen, Co-Founder & Executive Director, Women Unite!
In February, before the public fully realized the magnitude of COVID-19, I co-led a training with Women Unite!’s Director of Training & Development on what it means to be an ally. Throughout the discussion we touched on how--regardless of our identity--we all have the capacity to harm one another and engage in problematic behavior rooted in white supremacy. During the conversation I used the example of racist coronavirus jokes that were crescendoing across social media. “White people aren’t the only ones making terrible comments,” I said. Fast forward to May 2020. The president and the White House have been using terms like Kung Flu and Chinese Virus as the number of COVID-19 related deaths, hate crimes committed against Asians, and things we never could have imagined continue to grow.
Being Asian during COVID-19 has pushed me to reflect on the role we, especially East Asians like myself, play in the White supremacist machinations of this country. Specifically I’ve been thinking about the model minority myth--the notion that Asians are successful, assimilable examples of ideal immigrants who prove the veracity of the American Dream. What we often forget is that, prior to this myth, the prevailing view of Asians in America was yellow peril, which conveniently justified their legal exclusion and internment (sound familiar?). What could account for this transition from burden to exemplar? Spoiler alert: it’s racism.
During the 50s and 60s, the United States decided it had a PR issue with how they were handling race. As with all public relations, the goal was to change perception, not fix the problem. The solution? Reinvent Asians as a model minority and use them as a buffer against Black and Latinx communities (people still love to do this btw). Turns out this was a brilliant move. Flattening out a complex, multi-faceted community into the catchall of Asians led to two key outcomes. First, it effectively erased the poverty and inequity within these communities. By magically disappearing these complicated problems, America relieved itself of the burden of having to solve them. Second, this myth reinforced and justified this country’s deep anti-Blackness. Black communities were viewed as lazy, irresponsible, and inferior; meanwhile, model minority Asians were successful because they are smart, hardworking, and have strong family systems.
The model minority myth is one of the more insidious tools of White supremacy. In addition to shifting focus from systemic oppression to individual shortcomings, it lulls people into thinking that Asians don’t have to deal with “real racism.” By positioning us as White adjacent, this myth tricks us into thinking we’re not susceptible to the kind of violence and barbarism regularly inflicted on other communities of color. It tricks us into thinking that we’re set, that our struggles are not tied up in the struggles of others. It tricks us into thinking that there’s such a thing as “positive” stereotypes. Reflecting on the model minority myth reminds me that allegiance to a country that doesn’t give a shit about large segments of its population is a sham.
The failures of the model minority myth have been an exploration of empathy. COVID-19 has made painfully clear the connections between public health, race, and White supremacy. We see them in the disproportionate death rate among Black Americans (WBEZ); in how undocumented immigrants are excluded from federal stimulus dollars despite paying billions into the federal tax system (IRS); in the state’s response to White people breaking social distancing and Black people breaking social distancing; and in public reaction to White led protests against public health and Black led protests against violent racism. I look at these hypocrisies and disparities and reflect on the rollercoaster of emotions that is being Asian during COVID-19. I think about how vulnerable I feel in public spaces--how everyone, specifically any white dude walking on his own--seems especially threatening right now. I think about what it’d be like trying to explain this to a child. I think about how the government is making things exponentially worse for me and people who look like me. I think about how terribly common and even mundane my experience is in comparison to other people of color. I think about how much harder this would be if even one of the many privileges I have was taken away.
My hope for myself and the rest of the Asian community is that we will fully reject the model minority myth and any propaganda that requires allegiance in return for safety. My hope is that this moment will make us all more empathetic and more resolute in our pursuit of a more just, more compassionate world.
Illustration by Chelsea Beck
