My Life as an Asian American Teen During COVID-19: As Told From Three Perspectives

From a first-generation immigrant perspective, by Ellie Kim, co-Editor in Chief

My dad came home from work one day with a brochure entitled, “Stop AAPI Hate: Report an Incident.” It was written in Korean and contained a list of numbers for my dad to call in case something happened. My family owns a small business in New Rochelle, NY, and the police had checked in on my dad that morning. The next day, my grandparents called us from across the world and told us to stay home. “Don’t go to the city,” they said, “it’s scary out there. Watch what’s happening on the news.” Looking at the brochure and hearing all these messages, my family was in shock. It could never happen to us… right? 

Even before the COVID-19 pandemic, my family has always been aware of the prejudices and stereotypes that surround us. Ever since I was younger, my life was centered around ‘fitting in.’ When I was four years old, my family and I immigrated from Korea to America, and went through the journey of assimilating to a new culture together. My mom bought us thousands of books that were shipped to my house monthly to expand our vocabulary, and my dad tried his very best to pay for softball clubs, swimming lessons, and skating lessons, at which I was the only Asian kid. Even my name changed, from Min Sung, to Ellie. 

From an adoptee perspective, by Mary-Abigail Caglione, News and Opinion Editor 

When I was a little girl, I watched my mom put makeup on for every occasion. From an early age, I wanted to look just like my mom. I admired her beauty, and in some ways, I was jealous I could not be her. This sparked my interest in makeup and I became obsessed with trying to look less Asian. When I was in middle school, I wore makeup to make my eyes wider and my eyebrows darker. I looked at photos for too long, and wanted to look like my parents more than anything. This terrible dream of mine was simply wishful thinking, but still, every little girl looked like their mom or dad, so why couldn’t I? I felt an atmosphere of pressure being the only Asian girl amongst my friends. I felt lonely and insecure because I didn’t look like every other girl. In 7th grade, I prioritized the white beauty standard by doing anything to make me seem less of what I was. 

Since then, I’ve learned that there is so much beauty in this world, and it does not revolve around physical complexion. I empathize with the young girls growing up in a world filled with such high standards today. But my concept of physical appeal was skewed from an early age, and I based my value and beauty on race from the moment I saw my mother put on her makeup.

As I got older, I cared less about what other people thought, but Asian-American hate expanded into serious global issues. When we learn about American history, we’re taught about the atrocities that were seen in Japanese internment camps during World War II. In 2020, I saw history repeating itself once again with a rise in violence directed against Asians. With the global pandemic originating in Wuhan, China, there was a call for unjustified cruelty against innocent Asians. Every day, the news started with broadcasting updates about the pandemic, and ended with another Asian-American being attacked in the city. I, and the rest of the Asian-American community, watched in horror as this country repeated history. 

From a mixed-race perspective, by Rebekah Field, Copy Editor 

In early March 2020, I went out to dinner with my mother and her sisters to a Korean restaurant. My mother remarked, half-jokingly, that this restaurant, filled with Asian people speaking and laughing in their native tongues, was one of the few places in which she felt entirely safe now. She reflected on how she’d gotten far too many scornful glares over the past week, and she was certain that the glares were because of COVID-19. Her feelings were completely valid, and her interpretations of the scornful glares were, probably, and sadly, correct. Over a year later, it is disheartening to know that not much has changed.

I am half white, therefore only half Asian. My mother, her mother, three sisters, and her sisters’ spouses, are all immigrants from South Korea. Despite living in a country in which, for decades now, the majority of people are not, Asian, all of my Korean relatives expressed a new, heightened sense of fear that came with the rise of the pandemic. Although I am only half Asian, and I have the privilege of being able to pass as white, this pandemic has undoubtedly instilled a large amount of fear in me as well.

Hearing the countless stories of racially motivated violence inflicted against Asian-Americans because of this pandemic genuinely terrified me, knowing that those victims could have been any one of my family members on my mother’s side. Some of my relatives even work in New York City, a bustling metropolis in which hate crimes are said to be the worst. Even before the pandemic, my aunt who works very close to Grand Central Terminal shared several awful stories of being verbally attacked in her workplace, purely for her race. According to NBC news, the arrival COVID-19 pandemic was directly related to a 150% rise in violence against Asian-Americans.