Koreatown is Burning
April 29, 2016 is the 24th anniversary of Sa-I-Gu, Four-Two-Nine. Called the Los Angeles Riots by the media, the Los Angeles Uprising holds a significant place in Korean American history. As Koreatown burned, the Los Angeles Police Department, responsible for the televised and brutal beating of Rodney King, stood by the entrance of Beverly Hills.
A lot of White gun advocates point to pictures like these as a justifiable defense of the Korean American livelihoods. The argument goes, when the Police abandon you, who do you rely on to defend yourself and your lifeblood?
But one of the catalysts to uprising was the murder of Latasha Harlins. Fifteen year-old Latasha Harlins’ life ended on a floor of a liquor store with a bullet lodged in the back of her head.
Soon-ja Du, a Korean American store owner, used an illegally modified gun to shoot Latasha after a verbal altercation over an alleged theft of a bottle of orange juice. For the murder of a young Black girl, Soon-ja Du only received five months of probation, four hundred hours of community service, and a $500 fine.
The picture above raises three questions.
- Who is at gunpoint in these pictures? Who were the targets? How different is this from Soon-ja Du pointing her gun at Latasha?
- What were these store owners defending? Upon whose neighborhoods did they build their livelihoods on without investing in them?
- By rallying around Soon-ja Du, defending her, and upholding White supremacy that allowed the beating of Rodney King and the murder of Latasha Harlins, what did the Korean American community accomplish?
By simply critically thinking, 1) there existed (and exists) an inherent oppression against Black people, 2) our community actively fostered animosity between the communities because we saw ourselves in a hierarchy above and did not care that Latasha Harlins and Rodney King’s lives were brutalized, and 3) it benefited nobody (except White people) to uphold the White supremacy.
Twenty-four years after Los Angeles and one year after Baltimore, what is our takeaway as the Asian American community? Peter Liang received less severe sentence for his murder of Akai Gurley than Soon-ja Du’s murder of Latasha Harlins. The Chinese American community, vociferous in their support of Peter Liang, “won” a victory against Akai Gurley, whose girlfriend remarked, “You took a piece of me. You took a piece of my heart. Akai took his last breath and died in my hands. I’m suffering while you still have your life.”
The life of Latasha Harlins was worth 848 dollars in 2016 dollars, five months of probation, and 400 hours of community service.
The life of Akai Gurley was worth five years of probation and 800 hours of community service.
This is what Black lives are worth in a White supremacy.
In recent days, certain texts from the San Francisco Police Department were made public. One officer, in particular, was outstanding in his Lieutenant Jason Lai was unapologetic in his unfiltered racism (click link to see censored slurs). Yet, the response from the Asian American community has been practically nonexistent.
Is there no accountability for “one of our own?” The Peter Liang defenders were ardent that he was being made a scapegoat. So is Jason Lai a scapegoat as well? Or by being silent, are they implicitly agreeing with Lieutenant Lai?
If the Asian American community has learned a single lesson in the past twenty-four years, it’s that White supremacy does not protect us. No matter how hard we try, we will never achieve Whiteness. What are Asian lives worth in a White supremacy?
In 1995, a 16-year-old Yong Xin Huang was murdered by the NYPD in Sheepshead Bay for playing with a pellet gun. Two months later, the courts did not indict his murderer.
In 1982, a 27-year-old Vincent Chin was murdered in Detroit by Ronald Ebens and Michael Nitz, two auto workers who were laid-off. Both were sentenced to three years of probation.
In 1942, hundreds of thousands of Japanese Americans were forcibly relocated like cattle by the Roosevelt Administration. The powers that be did not defend the Japanese American community, who were once seen as the model alternative to other communities of color once Pearl Harbor was bombed.
The list goes on and on. And it still happens to women, trans folks, men, and children who are languishing away in private immigration detention centers. It still happens to Hmong and refugee communities in places like St. Paul and Fresno.
Ultimately, in the eyes of White supremacy, our lives are worth nothing. We cannot choose to stand by in silence. We cannot afford to be accomplices in upholding the same power structures that doesn’t value our lives.
And I firmly believe, although slightly disadvantaged, our voices have power. Can our community show up for Black lives like we do to protest unfair media portrayals? Yellowface is only a symptom that manifests in this system that doesn’t value our lives. We need to be proactive in engaging and dismantling the power structures. Who will come for us when Koreatown burns again?
