Being Asian American in a Pandemic

Submitted anonymously, April 2021

Part I.

I am afraid to go outside because

I am riding my bike

A man is in his front yard playing with his son

The man has a toy gun.

He points it at me.

Time

Stops

And I freeze.

Then he laughs

As if to show his son

It's all in good fun

My bike

Swerves

A man passes me in the street.

“Ching chong,” he says.

I do not respond.

“Oh, you don’t speak English?”

Part II.

I am tired of being inside because

The soundtrack of the pandemic

March 2020 - the sound of my labored breathing in a mask

August 2020 - the rustling plastic of takeout bags, squeaking styrofoam containers

December 2020 - my fingers tapping my keyboard alone in my room

March 2021 - my mace against my keys. snapping both locks on my front door closed.

I get a text from a friend I haven't talked to in years.

"I just want you to know that I'm here for you"

I picture him scrolling through his phone looking for Asian contacts

And feel nauseated

I am not your token.