Racism

How To Talk To Asian Americans* Right Now

There's a difference between authentic support and virtue signaling.

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“I support you guys, and I really feel for you.”

I heard these words recently at my neighborhood pub in Atlanta, where I was meeting a friend for a socially distant late drink to celebrate his 40th birthday. The day before, March 16, just a few miles away, eight people had been killed, six of whom were Asian women.

These were the words that a man sitting at the bar had spoken, determining from the exposed portion of our faces he could see (our eyes). He paid for our round and, before leaving, the next one.

I expected to feel patronized. I thought I would feel a little embarrassed. Instead, I was surprised to find I felt deeply grateful, even relieved.

The Atlanta mass killings reminded me of all of the dangerous people around us that are affected by systemic anti-Asian bias. It’s a reality to which we, Asian Americans, often meet with willful blindness. And maybe I wasn’t rational after this one incident to feel as though my city had become a more dangerous place overnight. But, in a similarly irrational way, this man’s words and gesture made me feel … safer.

This operated almost at an evolutionary level. Regardless of whether the tragic events were truly “racially motivated” to meet the legal definition of a hate crime, the brutal killing of vulnerable Asian American women at the impulse of a white male pierced the veil of my own invulnerability. A simple act of connectedness, on the other hand, immediately improved my view significantly.

Over the next week, I saw many messages of affirmation and encouragement, both to me personally and telegraphed over social. Some of them evoked safety, like the story above; others did not, and to some I found myself bristling against what I knew fit in the hotly debated category of virtue signaling. What was the difference? Was this subject to the whim of my mood in that moment? Were there other contributing factors, like the history of my relationship with each supposed well-wisher?

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I am far from an expert on this topic. I am not an organizational scientist, a behavioral health guru, or a diversity consultant. But I have some thoughts on the topic, based on my experience, listed in no particular order. I hope you find them helpful as you try to approach your Asian American colleagues, friends or the community at large.

  1. Test your motives. If you are trying to approach someone or assemble a public statement, perhaps on behalf of an organization, understand why you are trying to do this. This is perhaps the first litmus test of whether you are about to demonstrate authentic solidarity or engage in virtue signaling. What has spurred you to do anything at all, instead of doing nothing?
  2. Begin with empathy, then get to compassion. Without doing the real hard work of empathy, you cannot assume you know how someone else is feeling. In fact, consider deleting the phrase “I know how you feel” from your lexicon. Asian Americans, in particular, struggle with putting vocabulary or form to our experience. But more importantly, empathy is the foundation for emotional intelligence, and prioritizing someone else’s perspective helps mitigate the risk of the image management commonly associated with virtue signaling. Let empathy connect to compassion, the recognition of suffering in another person with a motivation to help. (Interestingly, empathy by itself can actually be manipulated and could lead to bad outcomes.)
  3. Remember that intersectionality creates high complexity. The tragic killings in Atlanta trigger a special set of responses from Asian American women (I found this response particularly mind-opening), and yet another specific response for first-generation immigrant Asian American women. I cannot tell you what they are, although I can point you to others who have, but I understand that intersectionality is at work. The complexity of intersectionality cannot be neatly addressed by citing a generic condemnation of racially related violence.
  4. Express a desire to learn more. This is most easily explained by considering the opposite — imagine starting your conversation with an Asian American with “yet another reason why we need gun reform” or “it’s basic that racism is so dumb, why doesn’t everyone just get it.” They may not be completely unsound opinions, but the tone quickly begins to resemble virtue signaling. The statements extol the speaker’s command of policy or supposed solution to the problem, instead of an acknowledgement that this is not a problem that is waiting to be outsmarted and expressing intellectual humility about what is an extremely complicated issue.
  5. Embrace awkwardness, if you feel it. Along with confessing a level of ignorance (see #4), awkwardness may serve to be disarming, especially because this is super awkward for us too. (Writing this post is extremely awkward for me right now!) Leading with awkwardness communicates the dilemma of good intent and “the right thing to say.” And awkwardly forcing yourself to adopt hackneyed but authentic statements like “I will do everything within my knowledge to help you” or “if you ever want to talk, I am always available” is a lot better than nothing.
  6. Speaking of that, something is not always better than nothing, but nothing will always be bad. Some people defend virtue signaling with a “something is better than nothing” theory of contribution. The truth is, both virtue signaling and silence can send highly unsupportive messages. It may take some courage and a little effort, but it is not too much to ask for you to find a way to express support AND to do it right.
  7. Finally, the upside of genuine empathy is high. Expressing heartfelt support, offering to help, and genuinely committing to learn more are data points that reinforce a pattern of safety to counteract the narrative of danger that looms large at times like these. Opting out and choosing to wait for things to blow over is always an option, but it guarantees a missed opportunity to help someone.

Many Asian Americans struggle with vulnerability, especially in professional settings. But in the face of these killings and the documented spike in racially motivated violence against AAPIs, the thing that exacerbates that vulnerability is the isolation of conspicuous silence or the frustration of cheap virtue signaling. Combatting that vulnerability means showing up in the places and hours that fill our days with a genuine, sometimes awkward, expressed desire to walk alongside us with safety and reassurance. Each of you — and each of the organizations you may speak for — has an opportunity to convey genuine connectedness and compassion in an hour of real need.

*I have used the term “Asian American” here. APA, AAPI, and a host of other terms are also being used — the intersectionality, as noted above, is considerable. For instance, on one hand, Pacific Islanders are racially similar and confront much of the same systemic racist adversity as Asian American immigrants and their descendants; there is a basis for solidarity in that experience. On the other hand, Pacific Islanders have a rich indigenous history in the United States and wrestle with different issues from their community position. As seen in Latinx and Black communities, pan-Asian terminology can result in reductive grouping.

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Ed Sohn is SVP, Head of Solutions at Factor. After more than five years as a Biglaw litigation associate, Ed spent two years in New Delhi, India, overseeing and innovating legal process outsourcing services in litigation. You can contact Ed about ediscovery, legal managed services, expat living in India, theology, chess, ST:TNG, or the Chicago Bulls at via Twitter (@edsohn80).

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