Dear President Brodhead,
My name is Elizabeth Kim, the Korean American student who encountered hateful racial slurs. We spoke briefly after the race relations forum on Friday. When I told you about how the administration has consistently, publicly overlooked the racist incident that occurred against me—against the Asian-American community—at Duke, you told me that you and the administration only respond to events that are “conspicuous.”
In the past few weeks, I have written a post about the incident in the All Duke Facebook group that received support from over 1,000 individuals. I have been mentioned and quoted in a Chronicle editorial and article: “Addressing racism on campus: where do we go from here?” by the Editorial Board and “Duke searching for solutions in wake of racial incidents” by Ryan Zhang. I have also actively engaged with the administrators of Duke Student Affairs through individual conversations, including Larry Moneta, Zoila Airall and Li-Chen Chin.
Out of frustration, fatigue but also genuine curiosity, I ask you, President Brodhead, what more could I have done as an individual with no community backing to have been more “conspicuous.”
Just as Asian-Americans have no political voice in society, we have none at Duke for the same reasons. President Brodhead, you mentioned to me how racism against black individuals is more serious and urgent than the discrimination Asian-Americans face because of our country’s history of slavery. I am an ally for black lives, and I do not dispute the historically-rooted pain and oppression they face on a daily basis. In terms of mortality, lethality and state-sponsored violence, Asian-Americans are less in danger of losing our lives. However, a comparison of pain is no reason to dismiss the discrimination Asian-Americans bear.
That perspective is precisely the factor that perpetuates our silence. Society tells us our issues are negligible because the discrimination we face is ranked lower on the hierarchy of pain. Moreover, society tells us we are the "model minority,” so what do we have to really complain about? We learn to be silent.
That is why, as I grew up in rural Georgia regularly facing hate crimes, living next to secretly active Ku Klux Klan members, having “neighbors” defile my home and even being physically kicked in the head, I didn’t think it was a big deal. I thought racism was normal and that I had simply been born into a lower caste of society.
But when nearly a thousand students gathered in front of the Chapel last year for the noose incident, Duke taught me that racism is not normal. I realized with conviction that what I went through in my past was indeed racism, that I had a right to be angry and to stand up for myself and my community. However, the vast majority of Asian-Americans at Duke come from much different backgrounds. For them to acknowledge that their experiences have involved racism is demeaning. They don’t want to have anything to do with it. They don’t want to talk politics.
I know this because only two people other than myself and the organizer came to the meeting the Asian-American Alliance held right after my incident. If we don’t even take our issues seriously, then how can we expect anyone else to?
In addition to being silent, we are fragmented. There are various Asian-American student groups on campus, but there is no unified political voice. That is why I can write a post about the hate crime I experienced on the All Duke group, receive support from 1,200 people and not have the incident be mentioned in a campus-wide email about racism sent out in the same week after the Black Lives Matter poster was vandalized. That is why Larry Moneta did not know about the incident. That is why you did not mention my incident—the Asian-American incident—as one of the hateful events that led to the forum on Friday when you introduced the discussion.
Because if there were a political Asian-American voice, we would never have let Duke forget it.
Ting Ting Zhou’s response to the Asia Prime party is not proof of a political Asian-American voice at Duke. Though admirable, it was only her voice and that of a few others. The reality is that the vast majority of Asian-Americans at Duke—21 percent of the undergraduate population—do not realize and acknowledge their own discrimination. After Ting Ting’s departure, the Asian American Alliance has remained dormant for the past few years.
I am alone in my fight, and every day I carry the burden of trying to legitimize my pain to a society that places it on the bottom of the hierarchy.
You must understand me when I ask you and the rest of Duke’s administration to keep closer watch and to be mindful of being publicly inclusive of all experiences of discrimination. Who knows how long it will be before Asian-America raises its voice? How can we prioritize without silencing?
As I came away from the forum frustrated as I was, I heard you, Dean Ashby and Provost Kornbluth, suggest that there are going to be people coming together to continue working on these issues. I would like to be a part of that process. It was my choice and my childhood dream to come to Duke, and I believe we can do better. I am available, and I want to be a part of the solution.
I look forward to your response.
Respectfully,
Elizabeth Kim
T ‘17
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