Black Lives Matter: One (White) American’s Reflections on Navigating Distances Abroad
At the time of writing “#WuhanStrong: One American’s Reflections on the Coronavirus and Life in China”, China was just at the early stages of grappling with COVID-19. After traveling to the Philippines, Indonesia, and Vietnam, I returned to Hangzhou on February 27 and life here has settled into a new normal. As the number of new cases has drastically declined, travel restrictions within mainland China have slowly been lifted, and even the once ubiquitous green codes, masks, and temperature checks are less frequently required depending on local regulations.
Four months later, I am no longer writing as an American witnessing firsthand the effects of a mysterious virus sweeping through China and Asia, but as an American witnessing the protests against institutionalized racism in my home country — all set against the backdrop of a global pandemic — through the “black mirrors” of my phone and computer screens.
A 12-hour time difference between China and the US East Coast coupled with an often unstable connection to news and social media have forced me — a “news junkie” — to learn how to catch up as best I can. More importantly, though much easier said than done, is striking a balance between knowing enough to stay informed, but also not inundating myself in such a way that it will overly affect my mood or sleep. Since the end of April, I no longer check the news after 6PM and spend as little time as necessary on social media in the evenings to create a buffer zone between myself and bed.
When I do check the news or receive updates from family and friends, I sometimes feel like a powerless spectator. I last visited the US in October 2019 for a two-week visit, well before the onset of COVID-19, and even then I felt a bit like an outsider, increasingly unfamiliar with what it means to live in the US on a daily basis. Nearly eight months later, the country seems almost unrecognizable as I peer at videos of police cars burning through my phone screen or click on headlines like “Bedlam in Trenton: Peaceful Justice Protest Turns Into Downtown Havoc.”
Despite this disconnect between my own lived experience of returning to an established routine in China and what I am hearing unfold just minutes away from the house in which I grew up, my friends here often ask me for my thoughts on recent and ongoing events. Why are so many people in the US dying from COVID-19? How long will the protests continue and is your family safe? How does it feel to be an American abroad at this time?
There are no easy answers to these questions. Much of what I and the rest of the world are watching unfold is, I believe, a movement to dismantle the systemic and institutionalized racism that defined our nation’s founding and that has continued to define the growth of our country over the last 400 years. The inherent privilege that accompanies being a white male, however, means that the protests giving voice to the intergenerational legacy of trauma and pain that Black Americans and African Americans experience on a daily basis is as far removed from my own life as the physical distance separating Hangzhou and Trenton.
I am, however, still very much affected by recent events, even if I do not or have not counted them as being a part of my own life experience. At times like these it has been tempting to pass myself off as the national of a different country, especially when I am speaking Chinese. Mandarin’s four tones conveniently mask my North American accent, allowing me a freedom to “choose” where I am from as listeners are usually unable to pinpoint it for themselves based on my accent or appearance.
To do so, however, would only serve to further the distance I am already feeling between myself and the US. Yes, this means I often find myself in the unexpected position of representing all of America whether I am prepared for it or not, a daunting reality as representing something larger than my family or university is overwhelming. Like my news consumption, I strive to strike a balance in my responses. I do not shy away from criticizing the many American systems that need to be overhauled — the criminal justice system and the private healthcare system are two that immediately come to mind — to ensure my listeners that not all Americans stand in support of the glaring lack of national leadership. I also make it clear, though, that the basic rights afforded to Americans at birth — most importantly, freedom of speech — have greatly shaped my own concept of national identity and inspired me to speak out without hesitation against injustice in the pursuit of change when necessary, as it is now.
The brief discomfort I face when trying to strike this balance and somehow represent the United States pales in comparison to the discomfort of those who are and have been oppressed. I am therefore deeply thankful those who have taken the time to compile and share resources on allyship on social media. While the recommendations I have seen are mainly focused on what can be done from within the US (running for office or guidelines on peaceful protests), I have learned more about charitable organizations and bail funds accepting donations, book and film recommendations to educate myself further on the history of these complex issues from abroad, and how to feel more comfortable speaking about race and racism in a country that is not my own. Like I have every year, I’ll also be voting from abroad in this year’s election to make sure my voice is heard.
Like many other Americans, my heart is heavy with the weight of the unspeakable tragedies that continue to unfold as much of the nation still grapples with COVID-19 and its long-term effects. In the meantime, I must accept that some degree of literal and figurative distance between myself and current events is inevitable; the extent to which I work towards closing this gap as an American abroad, however, is for me to navigate.
