I'm filled with frustration, anger, and disgust.

I don't speak for all Asian Americans in America, but I know I'm not the only one that has had a conversation with elderly parents about the dangers of going outside — signaling this insane message that living in a quiet suburb in California is no longer safe.

I'm distracted all day and night on most days. I think about all of the elderly Asian parents and grandparents whose most treasured times were taken away from them when the Covid-19 pandemic took over America and they were no longer able to see their children and grandchildren in person.

I think about how they best express affection through quality time and cooking and how that has not been possible for over a year. I think about how they love to spend time outside, walking with their arms swinging wildly to get exercise as if there was a guidebook on how to be Asian after 60. I think about how public parks in America no longer have huge gatherings of elderly Asian grandparents doing tai chi. And I think about how their biggest fear is no longer just the global pandemic, but also the fear of getting murdered, slashed, lit on fire, and beaten for simply going outside.

It's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when it feels like Asian Americans are treated like another commodity — a labor resource for tech corporations, for ethnic cuisine, for re-appropriated entertainment, or sick sexual fetishes.

Because in truth, how bright is a future for Asian Americans when, despite the hard work and the "model minority label," we have to be fearful for our parents’ lives and our own?

A condemnation of our society and government is not fair and this message is not that. I might even say the majority of non-Asian Americans don't have harbored hatred against the growing Asian population in American, but that's not saying it’s enough.

I had a hard time figuring out what to do during the height of the BLM movement. Transparently, I didn't do much to help the BLM movement prior to the death of George Floyd last year, but I spent the time to learn, educate, start a dialogue with family, and donate.

If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude.

- Maya Angelou

So you might empathize with me when I say that it's been hard for me to listen to endless counts of anti-Asian crime and brutality only to find my Twitter and Instagram feeds silent — droning on about the next big thing in NFTs or simply how major brands keep posting a business-as-usual update, showing us they won't take a stand until it becomes aligned with their bottom line.

Your silence is loud. It delivers a message of willful acceptance and pulls a sheet over our voice. We've never felt so invisible.

If you see my Instagram posts or my Tweets about things you can do to help the AAPI community, don't scroll/swipe/tap past it. If you can't donate, share it. If you're too worried about disturbing your brand with a share, then just read it. Maybe something will stick and you'll try harder next time.

I'll leave you with this message from Eugene Lee Yang, prominent writer, director, actor, and producer:

We're all American. Please help us.