Racism is a virus. To bring awareness to the issues that Asian Americans face, “More Than a Minority,” is a series of articles that focuses on the Asian American experience and the economic impact of racially charged language on Chinese-owned businesses. Compiling economic evidence, anecdotes from working professionals, and my own personal experiences, I aim to shed light on the pressing issues my community is facing during this restless time. Let me be clear: this series is not meant to detract from the Black Lives Matter Movement, but rather, to promote ally ship between both communities. Our liberation is bound together. I encourage you to continue sharing your voice, loudly and proudly, as we fight for a world where the color of our skin does not define our opportunities. –Sarah
It is time to move away from the value-based construction, “minority,” to an intersectional framework that acknowledges America’s collective diversity.
August 24, 2020, 11:05 am EDT
Written by Sarah Chu
The 121st Boston Marathon was held on April 17, 2017. I was a freshman at Wellesley College, anxiously awaiting to experience the vociferous Wellesley Scream Tunnel for the first time. The legendary Scream Tunnel lies along the halfway point on the Boston Marathon route, where hundreds of Wellesley students and locals congregate behind barricades to hold signs and cheer for the runners. The energy and enthusiasm is eclectic: Route 135 reverberates with screams and laughter, as students shout their support to runners.
An unfamiliar white woman taps me on the shoulder and says, “You look like an exotic minority. Where are you from?”
Taken aback, I briefly respond with, “Boston.”
“No, where are you really from?” she persisted.
I understood the question was about my ethnicity. Despite being born in Boston, a progressive and diverse city, I get often asked where I’m “from.”
This experience is not unique to me, unfortunately. Microaggressions happen to people of color all the time. Asian Americans — and other ethnic groups — have some foreign quality that delineates us as perpetual outsiders in the U.S. Even I have never lived in China, somehow, I am not American enough. This derogatory question doesn’t always appear in these precise words, but the sentiment remains the same: from the eyes of white supremacists, we do not belong in this country because of the color of our skin.
In matters of an ethnic identity, “minority” was first introduced by American sociologist Donald Young, who defined people of color as “national minorities” in heterogeneous countries. There are white, cis-gender people, and then there’s everyone else. From a political perspective, the expression emphasizes a stigma and a status of the culturally and ethnically disadvantaged, which portrays minorities as a subservient, inferior, and inconsequential role in society.
Further developed during the rise of European nationalism in the 19th century, “ethnic minorities” were later used in colloquial language, which referred to racial groups with restricted power, whose members were subject to racial discrimination. By the 1960s, women were included in the definition of a “minority.” Today, the expression is increasingly popular in English language, and is used interchangeably for practically every identity group aside from an able-bodied, cis-gender white man.
The issue with “minority” is that its multidimensional definition allows for a fluid interpretation. Though the expression is typically used to describe ethnicity, “minority” can also be used to describe identity groups, such as sexual orientation, non-cis gender folks, or able-bodied individuals. To further explicate this concept, using the phrase “women and minority” to describe two identity groups, assumes the mutual exclusivity of these populations. By implying that these two groups cannot co-exist, we displace individuals from their identities, and illegitimize them into thinking people cannot identify in multiple groups. This is the problem with asking someone “where they’re really from.”
The expression also negates the histories of diverse ethnic populations, and collectively ignores contingent social distinctions. As illustrated, the term only makes sense from a White male gaze, who commonly refer to Black, Latinx, Asian, Indigenous, or mixed race people in their White majority. Maintaining this ideologically cumbersome word embraces the ideals of its origins and rejects the identities of the oppressed.
Instead of retaining obscure and controversial language, acknowledge the intersectionality of an individual’s affinity groups. A theory coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw, intersectionality describes how race, class, gender, and individual traits coincide with one another. The theory takes into account overlapping identities and experiences to fully understand the complexities of racial prejudice people face.
Let’s consider a Black man and an Asian woman, who earn 87 cents and 90 cents for every dollar paid to non-White Hispanic men, respectively. Latino women, who only make 54 cents in comparison, are faced with multiple forms of oppression. Incorporating intersectionality is crucial in combating the multi-facets of economic inequality, along with the intertwined methods of prejudice.
Adopting intersectionality alone could also facilitate communication between various identity groups. To accurately portray the lived experiences of people in different ethnic backgrounds, we must interpret every individual’s social identities with thoughtfulness. It is absolutely okay to be Chinese and American. African and non-binary. Disabled and Italian. Normalizing our cultural and physical differences, instead of lumping people into value-based constructions, embraces America’s cultural and ethnic differences, rather than demonizing them.
The nation’s intrinsic culture of oppression seeps into our everyday life; in many instances, without even realizing. While some may argue that systemic racism doesn’t exist, evidence of collective and persistent discrimination against Black, Latinx, Asian, and Indigenous communities tells another story. Using “minority” does not convey the personal identity nor the historical context of each respective identity group. It belittles people into thinking that we are powerless and less than the majority. By deleting “minority” from our vocabulary, we collectively acknowledge that people who don’t identify as a White male are more than a “minority.” In a time where racial injustice is at the forefront of public discourse, now is the time to reclaim our power.