Growing up in a diverse household meant I was surrounded by discussions centered on tensions between various groups. Most notably, I remember an auntie recalling the beating of Rodney King in 1991 and the initial acquittal of the four LAPD officers.
This historic ruling sparked the 1992 Los Angeles riots. Although the movement raised awareness for the horrific actions and history of police officers against Black citizens, it was the most destructive civil disturbance of the 20th century.
Even more devastating, the riots harmed Korean American communities. Korean-owned businesses suffered roughly half of the total $1 billion of damages, furthering historic tensions and mistrust between Korean and Black communities.
My auntie recalled “seeing images of Korean Americans perched on top of shop roofs, pointing and shooting at Black Americans that were attempting to steal or physically harm their property.”
Korean-owned businesses weren’t initially targeted at first, but economic tensions and recent violent grievances between the communities resulted in devastating damages. Most notable amongst this devastation was the 1991 death of Latasha Harlins, a young Black teenage girl who was killed by a Korean American shop owner over stolen orange juice. This fueled mistrust and resentment.
The 1992 Los Angeles riots were born from advocacy against historic mistreatment of Black Americans, but devolved into harming another minority group in the process.
Rather than blaming each other for racist inequities, people of color must recognize how the system conditions us as enemies.
Divide and conquer
White supremacy doesn’t divide people of color through violence. Instead, it uses more nuanced approaches that reward silence and punish solidarity.
For example, before the Los Angeles riots, the Civil Rights movements of the 1950s and ’60s shone as a beacon for interracial union. My family has recounted how both Asian American and Black advocates were united through intersectional struggle in housing and labor spheres.
However, during this period of solidarity, the phenomenon of the “model minority” poisoned the wells of progress.
This myth, crafted by white media, portrayed Black and Brown populations as problem minorities. Essentially, passive populations that don’t fight the “white man” are falsely rewarded with prosperity, success and equity.
Unfortunately, some Asian Americans bought into this myth, sharing racist rhetoric that Black Americans needed to improve their behavior. The “model minority” myth serves as a tool in pitting Black and Asian American communities against each other and it worked.
The role of media
One of my most profound discussions was on the formation of the Stop Asian Hate (SAH) movement with a close friend of mine. My friend, a Black woman, always empowered and validated my experience as an Asian American. Having attended school together all our lives, we understood the difficulties of being a minority in Utah.
When we were young, she said, “I told my grandma about you, and she says that we have to stick together because we’re both colored kids.”
That memory is still tender and important to me today.
Our bond allows us to discuss contemporary issues, like the SAH movement in regard to both of our communities. In our conversation, my friend explained how she supported the SAH movement, but was saddened by the shift in coverage that the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement was facing.
However, we didn’t blame each other’s communities for holding the media’s attention at variable moments, noting how growing social justice movements don’t automatically sustain other movements. Instead, we recognized that power systems and capitalist news are responsible for the carousel of minority struggles presented and supported in the media.
The current white-dominated media only allows for coverage and support when it is profitable and fitting of a preferred narrative that keeps communities of color down.
Rather than highlighting the intersectionality and continued suffering of minorities, the media keeps our communities in rotation rather than resolution.
Puppets of politics
While media manipulates when community efforts are visible, political parties also use our struggles to raise support. This is a bipartisan issue. Both the Democratic and Republican parties have a history of using minorities as buzzwords.
For example, Hawaii has been a steadfast Democrat-led state since 1954.
This is largely due the party’s appeal to labor unions, which Hawaiian citizens have been advocating for since the U.S.’s historic worker abuse. However, polls after the 2024 election show a gradual shift toward growing support of President Trump and the Republican Party in elections. This shift may result from growing discontent of the Democratic Party’s failed promises for the state.
Both of my parents from Hawaii complain about “the lies of demolishing and improving the Aloha Stadium, which was initially promised all the way back in 2019. Nothing has been done to that stadium for 14 years.”
The Democratic Party promises Hawaii improved infrastructure, lower housing costs and environmental protection.
However, living conditions aren’t improving for natives. In 2019, Hawaii had the highest cost of living and home affordability is getting worse as of 2024. Despite Democratic rhetoric, Native Hawaiians and longstanding citizens are still suffering. Political loyalty doesn’t always equal genuine change and priority.
Political parties use communities to advance their agendas and secure votes, leaving communities of color stuck between two evils that inaccurately address their struggles. However, if we decide to work collectively, solidarity blossoms.
We, the U
The University of Utah submitted to the Utah Legislature’s crucifixion of diversity, equity and inclusion by closing the Black Cultural Center last year. However, student organizations proved that social reform and solidarity can’t be trusted with institutions that turn on its proponents.
Last year, the Pacific Islander Student Association and the Black Student Union decided to cut ties with the U after they were limited by the administration. This led to the development of the Legacy Alliance, in which the Asian American Student Association and Latinx Student Union joined in solidarity against President Trump’s recent policies.
This is a monumental declaration that the U’s communities of color won’t compete for an institution’s less-than-pleasurable treatment. Together, we have modeled that social reform is loud, collective and not limited by one community’s success.
Instead, white power is threatened when our communities unify with purpose.
