Asian American Artists’ Response to Hate from Covid-19

Covid-19, the ongoing pandemic that has affected tremendous suffering and loss on all fronts, has caused the death toll in the United States, in particular, to rise to numbers unseen by the current generation. Yet, as this crisis has emerged, even more social problems reveal themselves and persist. Alongside an epidemic that attacks one’s immune system, there is a resurgence of racism in America. Though racism itself has never subsided, the discourse around it has shifted the issue back into the spotlight. The year 2020 will forever be marked by the police brutality against unarmed black men and women. Images of masked people marching in protests for the Black Lives Matter Movement represented a convergence of the two most prominent issues of 2020. Racism against people of color is nothing new, but the pointed nature of the racism of today deserves society’s utmost attention. Alongside the institutionalized racism that Black Americans are subject to, Asian Americans, the so-called “model minority^[1]” encounters blatant racism as associated with Covid-19: pandemic racism^[2].

Former President Trump failed to show any semblance of leadership and simply exacerbated matters through antagonistic tweets to his millions of followers. In response to the coronavirus pandemic, he coined the phrase: the “China plague” which proved harmful in its emboldening of those with xenophobic sentiments against Asian Americans. And while the virus did originate in Wuhan, China, the virus itself became such a global phenomenon that labeling it the China virus placed inordinate amounts of blame on one country, and by extension, the continent of Asia. This coronavirus inspired so much fear that it has driven many to act and think irrationally. As such, the language surrounding it should have been treated more sensitively so as to match the level of concern that it elicited. Perhaps a more understanding approach could have shaped the American reaction to the virus, less targeted towards one specific race. In contrast to a nuanced and empathetic response, the direct association with China that Trump drew in his rhetoric about Covid-19 encouraged openly violent acts against Asian Americans. Hate crimes against Asian-Americans became more and more common practice. On March 16, 2021, eight people were murdered in Atlanta, Georgia, six of which were Asian females. The event, while not formally characterized as a hate crime, incited anger and protest from the Asian American community who did view the murders as racially motivated. According to the FBI, who, “warned at the start of the Covid outbreak in the US that it expected a surge in hate crimes against those of Asian descent,” cited that “hate crimes in 2019 were at their highest level in over a decade.”^[3]

Long have Asian Americans been generalized as quiet, hardworking, and unaffected by racism or xenophobia by white Americans. However, this could not be further from the truth, and the effects of the pandemic racism have highlighted this shameful reality. Numerous news organizations recount some examples of this open-fire racist abuse. The Millford Daily News reported that “in an incident at Massachusetts General Hospital reported to the organization, a man said, ‘Why are you Chinese people killing everyone, what is wrong with you?’”^[4] A list offered by the BBC states, “A stranger on the New York subway slashed a 61-year-old Filipino American passenger’s face with a box cutter,” and “An Asian American family celebrating a birthday at a restaurant in Carmel, California, was berated with racist slurs by a Trump-supporting tech executive.”^[5] In the face of such horrific acts, one might ask how the Asian American community is reacting and fighting back.

Precedent in the United States demonstrates that art activism is one of the most meaningful methods of social activism^[6]. In the case of Asian Americans plagued by pandemic racism, there are many young artists and seekers of social justice speaking out. An article by Artsy entitled, “Why COVID-19 Spurred Us to Create an Online Show Highlighting the Asian Experience in America” details the creation of a not-for-profit exhibition directly focusing on the Asian experience in the United States. The works of this exhibit are primarily made before 2020, and the curators chose this in order to highlight the cycle of hatred that these creators continue to deal with again and again. The curators Han Hongzheng and Chandler Allen state that their exhibition “Within Global Isolation: Asian Artists in America,” is in direct response to the discrimination Asian artists have felt in light of the pandemic. They sought to address “old and new realities, amid blatant displays of racism and a resurgence of manufactured nationalism,” by including artists with a diversity of views that offer a range of perspectives on a shared experience of isolation and racially motivated hatred. Of the ten artists featured in the online show, the work of artist Hương Ngô offers a striking video made during the Iraq War. Hương Ngô was born in a Vietnamese refugee camp in Hong Kong during the Vietnam war before her family eventually moved to America. In her work called ESCAPE (2004–06), a still image shows a person standing in the middle of a busy crosswalk wearing a bright orange hazmat suit. The curators chose to feature ESCAPE (2004–06), because it aptly represents preparation for biological warfare, much like the current situation of today’s pandemic. Though presently there is not as direct of an enemy, the war against the coronavirus and social issues of racism classifies as a crisis of a similar nature and urgency. The article sums up this sentiment stating, “Though ESCAPE was only a speculative reality when it was completed over a decade ago, the protective gear worn by Ngô’s character now mirrors our everyday lives.”

According to the curators of “Within Global Isolation: Asian Artists in America”, the exhibition “offers no answers and tells no narrative.” Rather, the discourse they seek to inspire focuses on individuals, who “grapple with issues of cross-cultural identity and cross-geographical governance” (Hongzheng, Allen).^[7] One of the other artists Toby Zeng is less experienced than Hương Ngô, but puts forth just as powerful an art piece that communicates the pain and turmoil that Asian Americans experience from being placed at the crux of two disparate cultures. Zeng uses the human body and minimalism as his primary artistic tools. His work CA987 refers to Air China 987, the flight number he would have for his travels to and from Los Angeles, California, and Beijing, China. The photo is vertically oriented and stretches the eye upwards. A torso of a man lies prone at the bottom of the frame on a beach, while an aircraft flies above. A mix of palm trees and straw huts divide the sky from the expanse of sand. The meaning is unclear at first, but Zeng’s unique perspective as both an Asian and American person grants the photograph an introspective quality.  In his interview which is also included in the exhibition, he says, “The experience of being an international student impacts my visual system as a photographer. The way I observe the world is constantly switching between China and the USA” (Zeng).^[8] Like many fellow Asian Americans he describes the confusion that stems from having two different visual systems. What he is not confused about however, is that “Attacking innocent citizens of any foreign nation is never the right thing to do” (Zeng).^[9] Zeng’s artwork reflects the growing number of international students’ experiences in the United States, and furthermore, comments on the rapid globalization that prompts this forced relationship between the US and Asia.

As art evolves to more directly reflect people’s political and social beliefs and serve as activist pieces, younger activist artists, especially those belonging to minority groups, have been emerging. Marjorie Antonio, a junior at the University of Maryland has also expressed her discontent with the Asian discrimination in the current pandemic. She recently curated a mixed-media exhibit called “Not Your Model Minority: Pandemic, Proximity, and Power,” which presents five artists’ points of view on the complex experiences of Asian Americans.^[10] Antonio acknowledges the racial unrest of the Black Lives Matter movement, but chooses to highlight Asian Americans, given that they are a less talked about minority group. She attributes this lack of discourse to the “model minority” stereotype which describes the false notion that Asian Americans benefit from socioeconomic success while other racial minority groups do not, and this somehow justifies a disregard for any acts or words of racism towards them.

The exhibition includes the work of Antonius-Tín Bui which is a video piece named the “Missing Piece Project 2020 Dedication.” Tín Bui submitted it to the Missing Piece Project, an event in Washington, D.C., that allows people of Southeast Asian descent to dedicate objects at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial wall.^[11] The event and the pieces that people create are much more personal and evocative than government sanctioned memorials that are often far removed from the realities of everyday racial burdens. Tín Bui’s video is narrated in Vietnamese and speaks about a “queer, demilitarized future” and urges people to reimagine the world anew and peaceful, “beyond, across, through, our community” (Bui). Images of a golden gong and the sounds of its ringing repeat throughout the piece. Though the piece itself does not speak to the pandemic racism, it addresses persisting realities that were relevant even before they became readily acknowledged by the majority of the American public. Antonio’s act of bringing this piece together with other Asian American’s art is the current activism that is enhanced by the overlap with previous or separate causes. 

One social media campaign directly tackled the influence of the coronavirus epidemic in a hashtag called #MyCovid19Semester. The Asian and Asian American Studies Institute at the University of Connecticut asked four Asian American artists to illustrate students’ written narratives about the coronavirus. This social media campaign reflects the most efficient way of spreading information with today’s technology, and forms a new way of engaging with the public that is not a traditional exhibition. However, the hashtag and resulting artworks are still curated to some extent, which makes it an interesting and meaningful method of collecting and distributing activist art. One student’s narrative told of her life as a Punjabi girl whose mother’s salon closed due to the economic downturn in the pandemic. The artist who illustrated her story was also Punjabi, and the student marvelled, “Only an artist who shared the same culture as me would actually get it right.” This complete attention to the specificities of the student’s culture, as not just Asian American but also to her identity as a Punjabi is a type of rare respect. This connection can only arise from the artist sharing a cultural identity with whoever is being represented. It is important that this piece recognizes the obvious, but overlooked fact that not every type of Asian is ubiquitous with Asians from other parts of the vast and diverse continent. Representation of this nature is so important in an American culture that has canonically favored white people in art and media.

Another example of Asian American activist art that is presented in a less than traditional format is artist Amanda Phingbodhipakkiya’s public art series. Her series entitled “I Still Believe in Our City” is made up of 45 colorful panels that can be found on display in the Atlantic Terminal in Brooklyn. This subway hub was also the site of an incident that was spurred on by Covid-related bias when a young Asian-American man was spat on. Phingbodhipakkiya created “vibrant portraits of Black, Asian and Pacific Islander people along with anti-discriminatory messages like ‘I did not make you sick’ and ‘I am not your scapegoat.’” The piece expresses anger at the injustice Asian Americans are sadly so familiar with, but turns the hate into something quite beautiful. The article about her work reveals insight into Phingbodhipakkiya’s motivation behind the panels. “As you traverse the terminal and look upon Asian and Black faces, full of defiance and strength, and learn about the injustices that we’ve faced,” Ms. Phingbodhipakkiya said, “you can’t help but see us and you can’t help but feel that we are reclaiming space” (Phingbodhipakkiya).^[12] In this case, just as in the social media work, the artist is of Asian heritage; Phingbodhipakkiya is both Thai and Indonesian which gives her the power to speak about her lived experience and the shared trauma with others who are of similar backgrounds. She can relate to struggles of dealing with the anti-Asian bias, and can empathetically depict what society needs to see. Again, in her work, Phingbodhipakkiya is reinforcing a new landscape of increased representation of minority identities.

            One of the things that all of these art pieces have in common is that they are very in tune with the needs of people belonging to the oppressed community, and are mainly also members of the Asian minority. This is not to say that people who are not Asian cannot also participate in the creation or distribution of activist art. However, there is power in allowing space for historically muted voices to finally communicate a personal pain and anger that is so heightened in the current sociopolitical climate of the United States. As an Asian American myself, I am hesitant to accept people’s general claims of support of my identity in temporary Instagram posts and other social media professions. This type of activism is flippant and posted by the very people from which I have experienced microaggressions or racialized comments. On the other hand, activist art is a tool that can elicit real emotional and social impact, and needs to be recognized as distinct from the act of reposting or retweeting ignorance into the void. More thoughtful works, such as those mentioned in this paper, which work in tandem with Asian American voices, provide a solid framework for continuing to push back against traumatic events that are so commonplace in today’s America.