Anxiety through the eyes of an Asian American
THE IMPACT OF SYSTEMIC RACISM ON MENTAL HEALTH AS AN ASIAN LIVING IN AMERICA
(Cristina Gottardi / Unsplash)
As a general rule, humans do not easily accept change, especially those that involve alterations to their environment. Many of us tend to gravitate to those who are most similar to us. It’s no secret why groups of people coexisting in one place usually look similar to each other. If your eyes are shaped differently or your skin and hair color don’t easily blend in, there is no guaranteed seat for you at the table. This concept can be applied to anything, like wealth or education status; however the underlying message remains the same - exile. This manipulated perception of living in a space solely reserved for me sparked hatred at the face that I saw reflected at me everyday in the mirror.
I personally know the feeling of desperately wanting to shed my own skin all too well. I have lived through it multiple times as a child in communities singled out as the only Asian in the room. I dreamed of days when I would feel comfortable walking down a street in the presence of stares passing by. Foolishly, I drummed up thoughts that maybe, one day, I’d become fearless of what others may think at first glance. Sadly as an adult, nothing has changed. The anxiety of having experienced isolation clings to the back of my mind. Stepping into an unfamiliar setting in a room where the majority of people with appearances different than mine looks something like this:
Crowds with facial features and body types that do not resemble me cause my chest to cave inwards. I avoid eye contact for fear of judgment. My breaths become as noticeable as the sweat forming on my palms. A pounding sensation from my chest booms loudly over and over again, and eventually the sensation makes its way towards my head. I can feel the rush of blood running across my face as I begin drowning in memories that no longer exist. Every nerve ending screams at me, urging me to run and hide. I’m forced to squeeze my eyes shut for a second, willing for these sensations to pass.
You all might be wondering the same question: what happened to me to make me feel this way? The answer is simple: isolation appears in many different forms. The first time it happened was when I was ten years old. To give you all a better picture, it went something like this: “Is that your real name? Don’t you have a more foreign name?” “You must eat pork fried rice everyday.” “Your face looks like it was pressed against the Great Wall as a baby.” “You speak English so well for a foreigner.” Out of these microaggressive questions and comments, the question hurt the most was: “Where are you really from?”
I remember one afternoon when my brother and I stepped out from the steps of our school. We were forced up against the school building, while being screamed at for crossing some schoolmates’ path. As the verbal abuse escalated, a janitor overheard and jumped in as one of those girls towered over my brother with her fist raised in the air. Ever since that day, I always looked behind my shoulder in fear.
Keep in mind that I experienced this level of scrutiny and hatred in grade school. We were only children, which meant that the other kids had to learn that this behavior was acceptable from role models who never knew better.
After having lived in multiple communities primarily made up of one race or culture, my anxiety has exacerbated as I grew older. At first, I believed that it was due to sheer bad luck of moving to communities that easily cast off strangers. I’d like to believe things are changing for the better. So, then why are we repeating history? To understand what I mean, let’s travel back to 1942.
“I AM AN AMERICAN” - These four words were plastered in big bold letters across a grocery store belonging to Japanese Americans residing in California. The President issued an order that forced the relocation of California residents with Japanese ancestry, regardless of citizen status, because of the inherently racist belief that all Japanese people were responsible for bombing Pearl Harbor and should be treated with suspicion.
Now, we’ll fast forward to the year 2020. The erroneous but popularly pushed belief that the Asian community was responsible for the chaos that the Covid pandemic created. Because of this, reports of elderly Asian abuse poured in all across the country due to the increased hatred for the Asian population. Walking through the aisles at the grocery store while others skirted the sides as if I were a carrier resurfaced and validated every fearful thought in my head.
As a child, I always thought that growing older meant growing stronger, with the idea that becoming bulletproof resolved past traumas. Nearly two decades later, I learned how deeply these wounds were embedded under layers of anxiety, denial and repressed anger. On our journey towards recovering from this pandemic, all of us have work to do towards healing mentally and physically together.
The author Katrina is an avid advocate for dogs and enjoys creative honest writing in her spare time.
—
This piece was written and shared during the IDONTMIND Writing Workshop. Learn more about our free, nine-week course and be the first to know about the next workshop here. Visit Mental Health Connecticut’s YouTube channel for a video version of Katrina’’s story.