when will 
you see that
I am
not the virus 
but the victim.
not the object
but the owner.
not the weapon
but the wounded.
but a woman.
but a world worth winning.
courage walks on water,
runs through roots,
clings to you
like capillary 
action
fights against 
the gravity
of the situation
while
silence 
falls 
short.
speak as if your
wishing to ancestral suns,
looking to where you want to 
Go 
shout with your head held
high
and your voice still
stone.

On Tuesday, eight people were murdered by a white shooter at massage parlor in the Atlanta area. Six of these victims were Asian and seven were women. Although the possibility of racial motivation for the killer remains unclear, this devastating attack is one of the many that have recently surged against Asian Americans as a result of xenophobia and ethnic discrimination. While these incidents have been heightened because of the correlation with Covid-19, they are certainly not new. The trend in violence only reflects a long history of Sinophobia and reminds Asian Americans that they have never truly “belonged”. As protests and people continue to retaliate against this blatant rise in hate crimes, I decided to write this poem to express some of my own swirling emotions that have been provoked by these events. I hope you, as a reader, take my expressed experience into account and work towards striving for both the equality and justice that need to be protected in our country.