A couple of years ago, my friends and I called an Uber to take us to a Laker game. We were a motley crew, reflective of the diversity of Los Angeles, and I was the only Asian. The driver, who spoke with an accent that made me believe he was an immigrant like myself, asked us all where we were from.

幾年前，我和朋友們叫了一輛滴滴帶我們?nèi)タ春岁牭谋荣?。我們這群人里東南西北的人都有，這反映了洛杉磯的多樣性，而我是其中唯一的亞裔人。司機(jī)說話的口音讓我相信他和我一樣是移民，他問我們都是哪里人。

“Around here,” we replied in unison. Then he looked at me and smirked. “Not you” he said, pointing to my eyes and making that slanty gesture. You can’t be from here. Where are you really from?”

"就在這附近。"我們異口同聲地回答。然后他看著我，笑了笑。他說："你不是。"他指著我的眼睛，做了個斜拉眼睛的手勢。 你不可能是這里的人。你到底是哪里人？"

Although I was born in South Korea, I lived most of my life in the States from age 3 and onward. Since then I’ve spent so much of my time here trying to convince everyone, including myself, that I am indeed American. It is an isolating and lonely existence, one that is specific to the Asian American experience.

雖然我出生在韓國，但從3歲開始，我大部分時間都生活在美國。從那時起，我在這里花了很多時間試圖說服所有人，包括我自己，我確實是美國人。這是一種孤立和孤獨(dú)的生活，是美國亞裔特有的經(jīng)歷。

I sat still, frozen in discomfort and silence, as my friends giggled. I began to replay similar scenes from my childhood in my head while sitting in a car with another person of color othering and jeering me while my non-Asian friends stifled their laughter. I couldn’t help but wonder: Why does everyone else find me and my experience so funny?

我靜靜地坐著，呆呆地看著我的朋友們傻笑。我開始在腦海中回放童年時的類似場景，當(dāng)時我坐在車?yán)?，另一個有色人種對我進(jìn)行謾罵和嘲笑，而我的非亞裔朋友們則忍著笑意。我不禁疑惑。為什么別人都覺得我和我的經(jīng)歷如此有趣？

After many years of enduring a special kind of racial trauma, I learned the answer. This is what no one tells you about being Asian in America in 2021: Our world minimizes us and we minimize ourselves.

經(jīng)過多年忍受一種特殊的種族創(chuàng)傷，我知道了答案。這就是沒人會告訴你的2021年美國亞裔現(xiàn)狀。我們的世界貶低我們，我們也貶低我們自己。

Since the start of COVID-19, there has been a 1,900% rise of hate crimes against Asian Americans, and more specifically, against elderly Asian Americans, which has struck a painful chord within many of us who were raised to respect and protect our elders. But what has been even more painful was the lack of attention this received in the mainstream media.

自從新冠病毒流行開始以來，針對亞裔美國人的仇恨犯罪，特別是針對亞裔美國老人的仇恨犯罪上升了1900%，這讓我們許多從小就被教育要尊重和保護(hù)長輩的人感到痛心疾首。但更讓人痛心的是，主流媒體對此缺乏關(guān)注。

I found out about Vicha Ratanapakdee, an 84-year-old Thai man who was forcibly shoved onto the ground and killed while walking on the street in San Francisco, a 64-year-old grandmother who was assaulted and robbed in San Jose, and a 61-year-old Filipino man who was slashed on his face with a box cutter and left bleeding inside a subway train in NYC, all on social media. An attack against an elderly Asian American is an attack against the most vulnerable of an already marginalized population. But no one else seems to care except us.

我是在社交媒體上發(fā)現(xiàn)Vicha Ratanapakdee的，他是一名84歲的泰國裔男子，在舊金山的大街上行走時被強(qiáng)行推倒在地并慘遭殺害，一名64歲的奶奶在圣何塞遭到襲擊和搶劫，一名61歲的菲律賓裔男子在紐約市的地鐵列車內(nèi)被人用刀割傷臉部并流血。 對亞裔美國老人的攻擊，就是對已經(jīng)被邊緣化的人群中最弱勢的人的攻擊。但除了我們，似乎沒有人關(guān)心。

This lack of acknowledgement is nothing new for Asian Americans. We are used to being ignored. We are used to minimizing our own pain because we don’t want to rock the boat.

對美國亞裔來說，這種不被承認(rèn)的情況并不新鮮。我們習(xí)慣于被忽視。我們習(xí)慣于把自己的痛苦降到最低，因為我們不想找麻煩。

Although there is a world of diversity among Asians, these cultural ideals have forged a shared minority experience: Asians are extremely collective with strong family values and a sense of putting others first. This is clearly evident in how Asian countries have handled the spread of COVID-19. We wear masks not for ourselves, but to protect those around us. We come from countries where we are born with a sense of duty to our families and regard our neighbors as one of our own.

雖然亞裔中也存在著廣泛的多樣性，但有些文化鑄就了這個少數(shù)族裔的共同經(jīng)驗。亞洲人的集體觀念極強(qiáng)，具有強(qiáng)烈的家庭價值觀和以人為本的意識。這一點(diǎn)從亞洲國家如何處理新冠病毒的傳播就可以清楚地看出。我們戴口罩不是為了自己，而是為了保護(hù)身邊的人。我們來自這樣的國家，在那里，我們生來就有對家庭的責(zé)任感，并把我們的鄰居視為自己人。

As children, we were taught not to talk back, to be respectful, and to be mindful of others. As adults, we continue to be silent and fear taking up space when discussing racism in America because we don’t want to diminish other minority groups’ experiences. Our repeated racial trauma and childhood conditioning prevent us from speaking up and making our voices heard.

小時候，我們被教導(dǎo)不要頂嘴，要尊重他人，要注意他人。作為成年人，我們繼續(xù)保持沉默，害怕在討論美國的種族主義時引起注意，因為我們不想貶低其他少數(shù)群體。我們反復(fù)的種族創(chuàng)傷和童年的經(jīng)歷使我們無法大聲說話，無法讓別人聽到我們的聲音。

Steven Yeun, star of Minari — a film that was written, directed by, produced by and starring Americans, and set in America, but was only nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at the Golden Globes — recently said this in an interview with The New York Times Magazine: “Sometimes I wonder if the Asian-American experience is what it’s like when you’re thinking about everyone else, but nobody else is thinking about you.” This hit home.

史蒂文-元，《明日之子》的主演——這部由美國人自編、自導(dǎo)、自制、自演的電影，故事發(fā)生在美國，但卻獲得了金球獎最佳外語片的提名——最近在接受《紐約時報》雜志采訪時說了這樣一句話。"有時候我在想，亞裔美國人的經(jīng)歷是否就是當(dāng)你為別人著想時，別人卻沒有為你著想的樣子。" 這話說得很有道理。

I feel guilty writing this during Black History Month and in a time when all eyes should be on the injustices of anti-Blackness in America. I am fully aware that the oppression against Asians is nothing compared to what Black Americans have experienced and still experience to this day. It makes me want to sit back and hold my tongue, as I’ve become so accustomed to doing. It is this same conditioned minimization that sets off the narrative in my mind of your experience isn’t valid because you didn’t have it as bad. But comparing who had it worse and whataboutism doesn’t further anti-racism.

在黑人歷史月期間，在所有人都應(yīng)該關(guān)注美國黑人遭遇的不公正現(xiàn)象的時候，我寫下這篇文章，感到有點(diǎn)內(nèi)疚。我完全知道，與美國黑人所經(jīng)歷的和至今仍在經(jīng)歷的境遇相比，對亞裔的壓迫根本不算什么。這讓我想坐下來忍氣吞聲，因為我已經(jīng)習(xí)慣了這樣做。也正是這種條件反射式的自我貶低，在我心中掀起了這些壓迫并不存在、不成立的想法，因為你（與黑人相比）過的沒有那么糟糕。但是比較誰的情況更糟糕，并不能進(jìn)一步推動反種族歧視。

Instead, it pits us against one another — just as the Model Minority Myth was designed to do.

取而代之的是，它會使我們彼此更加對立，就像“模范少數(shù)族裔”（在美國，亞裔被稱為模范少數(shù)族裔）這個神話就是被設(shè)計用來做這個的那樣。

As a psychotherapist who works with Asian and immigrant populations in both public and private settings, the most prevailing emotions I help clients process are guilt and shame. I believe these feelings derive from our collective roots that often teeter on codependency.

作為一名在公共和私人環(huán)境中為亞裔移民群體服務(wù)的心理治療師，我?guī)椭蛻籼幚淼淖钇毡榈那榫w是內(nèi)疚和羞愧。我相信這些情緒來自于我們的集體根源，而這種根源往往會讓人產(chǎn)生依賴性。

For many, our life’s mission is to make our parents proud. We can’t help but seek others’ approval, and we care deeply about what others think about us. It is this cultural norm that has made us susceptible and vulnerable to the Model Minority Myth, which argues that if we behave and work hard enough, we will finally be seen as equals — as white. In addition, this myth perpetuates that racism, including more than two centuries of Black enslavement, can be overcome by hard work and strong family values.

對于很多人來說，我們的人生的使命就是讓父母驕傲。我們不由自主地尋求別人的認(rèn)可，我們非常在意別人對我們的看法。正是這種文化，使我們很容易受到 "模范少數(shù)族裔 "神話的影響和傷害，該神話認(rèn)為，如果我們表現(xiàn)得足夠好，足夠努力，我們最終會被視為與白人平等的人。此外，這一神話使得種族主義，包括兩個多世紀(jì)對黑人的奴役，可以通過努力工作和強(qiáng)大的家庭價值觀來洗白。

It’s why I, a non-Black person of color, have a hard time discussing racism against Asians in America. To this day, I feel self-conscious calling myself a person of color due to my proximity to whiteness. However, this proximity doesn’t make me white either, as I am regularly reminded of this when people of all colors — white, Black, and everything in between — tell me that I don’t belong here.

這就是為什么我，一個非黑人的有色人種，很難討論美國對亞裔的種族主義。時至今日，我自覺稱自己為有色人種，即使我的膚色更接近白人。然而，這種接近也并不使我成為白人，因為各色人等——白人、黑人以及介于兩者之間的一切人告訴我，我不屬于這里時，我經(jīng)常被提醒這一點(diǎn)。
原創(chuàng)翻譯：龍騰網(wǎng) http://top-shui.cn 轉(zhuǎn)載請注明出處


Since we don’t talk about it and call it out, racism against Asians has become normalized. It took me years of therapy, grad school and understanding my trauma responses for me to recognize what got me so frozen in those moments of confrontation and that if I wanted things to change I had to speak up. In the words of one of my professors in my master of social work program, “if you’re not confronting, you’re enabling.

由于我們不談?wù)撍秃粲跛?，針對亞洲人的種族主義已經(jīng)變得正?；?。我花了好幾年的時間接受治療，讀研究生，了解自己的創(chuàng)傷反應(yīng)，才認(rèn)識到是什么讓我和那些對抗的時刻如此僵硬，如果我想讓事情有所改變，我就必須大聲說話。用我在社會工作碩士課程中的一位教授的話說，"如果你不反抗，你就是在縱容?！?/b>

What’s even worse is when we do finally muster the courage to speak up, sometimes we are met with dismissing comments like “Well that’s not racism” or “What’s so bad about that?” This reinforces the feelings of being dismissed and feeling unimportant — things we may have internalized as non-Black people of color and children of immigrants whose experiences pale in comparison to our immigrant parents’ traumatic past.

更糟糕的是，當(dāng)我們最終鼓起勇氣說出來的時候，有時我們會得到諸如 "這又不是種族主義 "或 "這有什么不對的？"之類的否定意見。 "這就加強(qiáng)了我們被忽視的感覺——我們已經(jīng)內(nèi)化為非黑人有色人種的和移民的孩子，他們的經(jīng)歷與我們移民父母痛苦的過去相比顯得蒼白。
原創(chuàng)翻譯：龍騰網(wǎng) http://top-shui.cn 轉(zhuǎn)載請注明出處


BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and people of color) experience complex racial trauma on a daily basis. Complex trauma refers to any kind of trauma (physical, psychological, emotional, societal, etc.) that occurs repeatedly and cumulatively.

BIPOC（黑人，原住民，有色人種）每天都在經(jīng)歷復(fù)雜的種族創(chuàng)傷。復(fù)雜的創(chuàng)傷指的是反復(fù)和累積發(fā)生的任何類型的創(chuàng)傷(身體、心理、情感、社會等)。

Those who experience complex trauma have a tendency to feel unheard, unseen and unable to make change. What is unique about complex racial trauma is that it occurs on both societal and individual levels. The world that we exist in tells us that we don’t matter, our family’s words at home also reflect this sentiment, and we begin to internalize these negative core beliefs.

經(jīng)歷過復(fù)雜創(chuàng)傷的人有一種傾向，即覺得自己不被聽到、不被看到，也無法做出改變。復(fù)雜的種族創(chuàng)傷的獨(dú)特之處在于，它發(fā)生在社會和個人兩個層面。我們所處的世界告訴我們，我們并不重要，家人在家里的言語也反映了這種情緒，我們開始將這些消極的核心信念內(nèi)化。

These negative core beliefs then manifest in our daily lives in myriad ways. We come to believe that we don’t matter and behave in ways that reflect this belief — at home, work, school, and in our relationships — becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. What other people see is that we are submissive, quiet and reserved. What we actually feel is that we are not as important, therefore we should just follow others’ opinions and desires. Why speak up when no one else cares anyway?

這些消極的核心信念在我們的日常生活中以各種方式表現(xiàn)出來。我們開始相信自己并不重要，并以反映這種信念的方式行事——在家庭、工作、學(xué)校和我們的關(guān)系中——真是一語成讖。別人看到的是我們的順從、安靜、矜持。我們實際感受到的是——我們并不那么重要，因此我們應(yīng)該只聽從別人的意見和欲望。反正別人都不在乎，何必說出來呢？

As we continue to practice anti-racism and work toward more diversity and inclusion, individually and collectively, I hope that we can do just that and involve all groups in the discussion. We can’t call ourselves anti-racists until we acknowledge all marginalized people, including Asian Americans.

在我們繼續(xù)踐行反種族主義，努力實現(xiàn)更多的多樣性和包容性的同時，我希望我們能夠做到這一點(diǎn)，讓所有群體都參與討論。在我們承認(rèn)包括亞裔美國人在內(nèi)的所有邊緣化人群之前，我們不能稱自己為反種族主義者。