Last week, I had to explain to my four children why #ChinkVirus was showing up on Twitter.
The last time someone called me a chink to my face was 45 years ago. I was a 7-year-old chubby little kid with thick glasses and a bowl haircut (cut by my Dad) walking in my Queens, New York, neighborhood when two teenage girls whom I'd never met before mockingly sang "Ching chong, chink chong" as they passed me on the sidewalk. I was in second grade and there were two of them — what was I supposed to do? So I did nothing and kept walking home.
Now, "chink" has
made a comeback because of the ignorant association of COVID-19 with Chinese people. "Chink" has been used as a slur against Asians going back
to the 1900s, possibly derived from the word "China" or used to describe narrow eyes or perhaps variations of Asian names. Regardless of the origin, it's used as an insulting and contemptuous term for a person of Chinese birth or descent. I never thought I'd hear the slur ever again, but unfortunately, I was wrong.
In the early stages of COVID-19,
CNN reported that several news outlets — including CNN itself — initially referred to the new coronavirus as the "Wuhan Virus" but stopped referring to it as such after receiving guidance from medical experts. Learn, adapt, evolve. At least it's a start.
But #ChinkVirus is different. It's intended to hurt, shame, damn and accuse. Seven-year-old me had learned that sticks and stones do break bones and that names, in fact, can often hurt us.
Racism exists, I get it. We're not going to eradicate it completely with ad campaigns, platitudes or even empathetic op-eds. These efforts are grains of sand. But as anyone who has tried to get dressed after going to the beach knows, single grains of sand can linger where you least expect them and can actually make an impact.
m.huffpost.com
