Hans Christian Anderson wrote a short tale called “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” Anderson was a Danish author who also wrote “The Little Mermaid” and “The Ugly Duckling.” The story follows a vain emperor who cares only for material things and outward appearances. So, he hires two weavers to make him the most beautiful clothes, but the weavers are con-men. They convince the emperor they are using a fabric invisible to anyone who is either unfit for his position or stupid. In fact, the weavers are only pretending to manufacture the clothes. No one can see the clothes, but of course, all the advisors pretend that they can for fear of ridicule. Once the weavers “finish” the clothes, they mime dressing the emperor who then appears before his subjects. The subjects, like his advisors, pretend they can see the clothes as well. Finally, a child in the crowd blurts out: “But the Emperor has nothing at all on!” The townspeople are awakened and admit the truth: the emperor has no clothes.
The coronavirus pandemic is a gut check. It provides opportunity after opportunity for the United States to help the world, but we have failed at nearly every turn to capitalize on this chance to lead the world. We still don’t have a nationwide testing infrastructure, eight states have resisted total lockdown recommendations, college students on spring break partied on beaches as health officials pleaded for them not to, President Trump’s small-business bailout is a disaster, and now he’s threatening to unilaterally adjourn Congress. Despite Trump’s bravado claiming we have the pandemic under control, the evidence shows we don’t. Instead, other countries like Germany, South Korea, and New Zealand are the ones taking control while we sit idly by. If anything, the coronavirus has highlighted our country’s collective shortcomings and that our president’s vanity has left us exposed, just like the emperor.
For days, the President of the United States continued the long and problematic tradition of naming viruses and diseases after the country or region of origin. While his country is sick and dying, he re-tweeted Charlie Kirk, a right-wing activist, who said, “With China Virus spreading across the globe, the US stands a chance if we can control of our borders.” Trump called it the “Chinese” virus during a press briefing and he defended his use of the term by saying that it isn’t racist to call it that.
All of this and yet, somehow, there is more to address. As a Vietnamese-American, I have a personal connection to this virus. Nearly 21 years ago in Hanoi, Vietnam in a small village right by the airport, I was born to a young Vietnamese couple. They already had children and they couldn’t afford to care for another child, so they ended up giving me up for adoption. Their one request of my adoptive parents, who I’ve called “Mom” and “Dad” my whole life, was that I get a first-rate education. Mom and Dad kept that promise.
Through this education, I learned that, “Racism is not stupidity — racism is hate”. I learned that a joke isn’t just a joke, especially in fraught times like these. Racism is an ugly thing that manipulates and divides countries across the world, America included. The President of the United States continues to embolden racists in a country where foreigners are meant to be welcomed and embraced, not shunned, harassed, or abused.
My whole life, I’ve grown accustomed to getting looks in supermarkets and the occasional “are you together?” as I stand inches from one or both of my parents. Those looks hurt for different reasons, but I’ve learned how to stand up for myself. But now, the stares I feel when I go outside or when I clear my throat or cough too loudly are different. I know that because I am Asian-American I’m bound to be scrutinized more as stereotypes surrounding Asians’ hygiene come to the forefront of the American consciousness. I’ve lived in the United States my whole life and yet, because of the way I look, I am reductively grouped into the designation of “Asian.” To some, this might seem harmless and that perpetuating the stereotype that all Asians look alike is defensible. However, manipulated by Donald Trump, these stereotypes can spiral out of control and turn into ugly, despicable attacks.
To be clear, this is not just a problem that is isolated to small pockets of our country. There are reported discriminatory incidents across the world in places like London, Melbourne, Canada, and the Netherlands. Even our Connecticut College community grapples with how to respond to the uptick in discrimination against Asians and Asian-Americans. In early March, the college sent out an email to the college community that “strongly denounces such behaviors and asks all members to challenge ourselves and others not to make harmful assumptions or inferences about others’ health based on their racial or ethnic identities.” It goes on to say “we hope you’ll prevent the spread of racism and xenophobia in that locale.” I am glad the school addressed this issue, but it shouldn’t have to be mentioned.
Thankfully, I personally have not experienced any physical or verbal altercations. Washington, DC is overwhelmingly Democratic, making such attacks unlikely. However, the few times I’ve braved the outdoors, stares followed me. As a person of color, I cannot hide the way I look, nor do I want to. I refuse to disguise myself for the comfort of another who sees me only for a stereotype.
Early on, before we all knew how serious coronavirus is, many people wore masks even as the CDC recommended masks only for those showing symptoms of the virus. Masks are a new phenomenon in America and that can be unnerving. The opposite is true in many Asian countries where those who don’t wear masks during public-health crises are the ones given looks. I was hesitant to wear one then and I am apprehensive even now as the CDC changed its course, recommending all Americans wear face masks when in public spaces. But as people continue to watch me and conflate my race with the spread of coronavirus, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep giving people the benefit of the doubt. So, I’m done with the free handouts.
Recently, the president has changed his tune in how he names the virus, but I couldn’t care less. He tweeted out that the virus is not the fault of the Asian-American community. He said that we are working closely with the administration and that because of our cooperation, America will prevail. Bullshit. He called it the Chinese virus and defended his words for more than a week. He spent the last week excoriating Asians and Asian-Americans and after he was criticized, not once did he apologize. What he refuses to understand is that his words carry weight in certain factions of our country who applaud him when he crosses out “Coronavirus” and replaces it with “Chinese Virus.” I am not surprised at the ignorance radiating from the White House or the lack of dissent among his base, but that doesn’t take away the pain of feeling alienated in a country I’ve called home my entire life.
Trump has failed for the umpteenth time to bring together a nation in desperate need of a leader. He is saying that me and, by extension, anyone that looks like me is responsible for this virus with no qualifier other than the way we look. More recently he has revised his words, but the damage is already done. He has planted yet another ugly and divisive seed consumed by sheep afraid to diverge from the path he paves. He deserves no benefit of the doubt, nor does he deserve any forgiveness. The time has come and gone for that. People are dying but he decides instead to play another caricature on a reality TV show who lusts for the spotlight. He delusionally thinks he basks in the adulation of the American people, and that they are too afraid to speak truth to power out of fear of retaliation. It’s an imagined reality, of his own creation, that plays on repeat inside his head. In truth, however, I see the figure of a man who calls himself President of the United States dividing the nation in both word and action and it’s nauseating. He thinks he has us fooled, but we’re better than that. It’s time to stop pretending we see him for something he isn’t. I know I’m not the only one who sees through the facade. Like the child, we must see the emperor for what he is, naked. •
