25 Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 26 When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman, here is your son,” 27 and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.
Dear Lake B Family and Friends,
Good Friday is - if anything - a day when the “raw-ness” and the violence of the cross lays bare the violence in us as individuals and as a culture. Honesty compels us to look at it and not turn away, and to ask, “What will we do in this moment? Who will we be?”
Elder Megan Won wrote the following reflection after the March 16 murders of eight people in Atlanta, Georgia. Six of the murder victims were women of Asian descent, and Megan amplifies the anguish of the Asian American community reeling from this violent attack.
May Christ have mercy.
Thank you Megan.
GOOD FRIDAY REFLECTION
In the wake of this incredible injustice and violence against the AAPI community, and Asian women specifically, I have been overwhelmed by a wave of emotions. I would like to share a brief reflection of my journey of grieving as an Asian American woman processing all that has happened.
In this moment, I am holding...
After hearing news of the mass murder of 6 Asian women in massage parlors in Georgia two weeks ago, in the wake of rising violence against the AAPI community, I was filled with grief. The kind of grief that sits heavy in the pit of your stomach. I mourned with the families who lost precious wives, mothers, sisters, friends. I mourned for my fellow AAPI sisters whose lives were snuffed out by a white man whose fetishization resulted in unspeakable violence.
Then grief turned to...
While I have not yet been personally targeted by violent attacks - verbal or physical - from others because of my almond eyes and yellow skin and black silky hair, the reality is it could have been me or anyone in my family or greater AAPI community.
I find myself constantly looking over my shoulder when I’m running in the neighborhood, just to make sure no one’s following me or coming up behind me.
In public places, I stay 6 feet away from others, and a few extra feet away from white men.
I’m scared to stay home alone and have even considered buying some sort of self-defense - pepper spray or even a taser - for the first time in my life.
I worry for the elders in our family, advising them to be careful whenever they go to the grocery store and to stay home whenever possible.
I worry for the little old Asian lady who lives four houses down when she walks up and down our street several times a day.
Fear is a thick blanket, and I worry. I worry. I worry.
Then fear turned to...
I am filled with rage because my body as an Asian American woman is constantly under critique. I’m either someone’s exotic fantasy or the nation’s threat.
“I am from here. Yes, really.”
“No, I don’t speak Ilocano or Japanese, but that doesn’t make me any less Filipina-Japanese. It doesn’t make me any less Asian.”
Not that it’s any of your business anyway.
I am NOT your yellow fever.
My yellow skin and silky black hair and almond eyes that kiss in the corner are not yours to fetishize.
I am not responsible for your temptations or sexual urges.
I am NOT your model minority.
I will NOT be silent.
I will NOT keep my head down and be complicit.
I WILL rock the boat and I won’t stop until YOU listen.
I am filled with rage because this violence on the Asian community is horrific, but it is not new.
I am not a scapegoat.
I am not a threat.
You don’t get to exclude us from a land that wasn’t even yours to begin with.
You don’t get to rip us from our communities and throw us into cages.
And you damn well don’t have the right to kill us when you have a “bad day.”
Asian is not a virus. Hate is.
Asian is not a virus. Racism is.
Asian is not a virus. White supremacy is.