After three decades of avoiding cardio, I started running this year. Now I’m one of those weird people who actually enjoys running and looks forward to my every-other-day routine. I love being outside (especially these stay-at-home days) and feeling like a part of my community.
So the death of Ahmaud Arbery has hit me in a particular way. Like him, I jog around my neighborhood, not at the gym. But unlike him, I do not run with the fear that my skin will make me a target of violence. Most people I see on my run give me an acknowledging nod. Ahmaud was shot.
How do we respond to this devastating event? One that seems to repeat with different names but with the same tragic ending?
As fellow Americans, we must first mourn. We cannot look away or close our eyes. We must also remember that racism has been a part of our country’s founding. Rather than being extirpated, its roots have infiltrated all levels of our society, and its tangle of vines continue to strangle the lives of those not part of the white majority culture. We can see from the slowness of the judicial process following the shooting that this event is not just about the violent actions of individuals. It is also the racist system that protects white citizens at the expense of Black citizens and other minority groups. Finally, we must condemn all forms of racism and demand change.
As Asian Americans, we must not cling to our hope that our status as the “model minority” will save us. We cannot fall into the trap of pitting our racial identity against another and try to compete for the scraps thrown down to us from above. If anything, this COVID-19 pandemic has shown us that too quickly, the white majority culture will turn on us, telling us to “get out.” To many, we are still foreigners. So we must stand with our Black brothers and sisters to demand systemic change and that every person is treated equally under the law.
As Christians, we must not stay silent when there is injustice. We must be compassionate towards the victims and those who feel loss and pain. We must carry their burdens, as Christ carries ours, and advocate for them. If anything, it is we who should be the loudest voices condemning racism. We are the ones who believe that God has made us all in his image.
We can and we must take the boldest and most courageous stances. We must be willing to lay down our lives for our Black brothers and sisters. That means putting our finances, our political voice, and yes, our “model minority” privilege on the line. And we can do that with love.
This past Friday, I participated in the #irunwithmaud movement. That day would have been Ahmaud’s 26th birthday, and participants ran or walked 2.23 miles, referencing the day he was killed.
As I ran in the streets of my Los Angeles suburb, I was overwhelmed with feelings. I was alive, able to hear the birds in the trees, see the flowers blooming, and breathe the morning air. But Ahmaud was dead.
So I ran — mourning the life of an almost-26-year-old. I ran — angry at the racism still alive and well in our country. I ran — frustrated at the broken justice system that was exposed so violently this week. I ran — desperately hoping for justice.
But I will admit that I didn’t run with much hope. Will there be justice? Will there be change? I don’t know. The only thing that brings me any hope is God, our righteous judge.
I know that God does not ignore sin and he hates perverted justice. I know that God saw Ahmaud running that day and hears his blood cry out from the pavement. I know that God will make things right.
I hope we as Americans, Asian Americans, and Christians can choose to pursue justice and fight racism together. We do this because we are the ambassadors of Christ, proclaiming and building his kingdom here on Earth. So let us cry out to our God who is just and good, and run together, pursuing justice and freedom.