The hypersexualization of my identity lead to an ex colleague who would not leave me alone and persistently contacted me for four years even though I tried asking nicely, cursing him out, pretending to be an automated message, and bluntly telling him to stop contacting me.  He generated fake numbers every time and finally shook me enough for me to change my number. His partner at the time was also Asian. 

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I was harassed by a female colleague in emails because I was expected to be submissive, but her white fragility came into play acting victimized because I stood up for myself. She did this to a couple of other Asian colleagues. 

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The “what are you” pick up lines...The cat calls... Getting shouted at with “konnichiwa” during my travels in London... having to change my route in Paris because a man would not leave me alone no matter how many times I told him I didn’t want him to join me. Microaggressive comments and behaviors from white colleagues and a professor... my list can go on.

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Did they ever say it was because I was Vietnamese? You quickly learn to read between the lines because of your treatment as the “other.” The very fabric of my identity is threaded as a Vietnamese American woman. 

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They say the six Asian women who lost their lives because a white man “had a bad day” but it could’ve been any one of our grandmas, mothers, aunts, sisters.... It could’ve been any of us.

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The words we speak and the actions we take creates a  ripple effect, especially into the beliefs and actions of our kids and their kids and so on. We have the choice to listen, to learn, to intervene, and to do better.  We can choose what we want our lives to stand for and I hope that is solidarity towards the common goal of change.

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These were my lived experiences but what truly breaks my heart is will it be Hazel’s?  I  use my voice and am loud now so that maybe it won’t be.