I feel very careful in writing about an incident and a community outside my direct experience. But I don't want to be complicit by remaining silent. There are so many subgroups in America that live their daily lives in fear, and that is unjust.

I don't know what it feels like to be an African American citizen in the United States, but I do feel a deep sense of kinship to the community.

I grew up in South Korea, a country homogenous in race and in culture. A sense of belonging was never in question but rather a given. But scars of oppression from the atrocities committed during the Japanese Occupation Era still burns brightly in our collective psyche. My family immigrated to Indonesia where foreigners and expats were treated with privilege and respect. Then we moved to California, a state so diverse that we were told we would be protected from racism that is rampant in other states.

California did protect us from outright racism, but we were still part of a bigger system. The United States immigration system leaves immigrants to live in fear of deportation and denies affordable healthcare to those who are ill. The most vulnerable, are of course, the low-income, non-English speaking immigrants in temporary or no status.

This kind of fear that immigrants experience is not exactly the same as the one that black community feels and voices. And yet, I feel that these experiences are somehow related. And in suffering, I dare to say, the two communities are united. And if I had to use the word "against", it would be against injustice and needless suffering in the United States, a country that can do better than this with all its resources.

I promise to myself that when I see injustice or action that goes against my values, I will speak up. Even if it's as small and meek as saying, "Excuse me, but I don't subscribe to this view". Just something to make the perpetrator uncomfortable enough to stop and ask themselves some hard questions.