This is not okay.

Coping with the recent tragic deaths of Christina Yuna Lee and Michelle Go as an Asian-American woman.

I learned about the tragic death of Christina Yuna Lee earlier this week, and it’s only been a month since Michelle Go died. These are senseless deaths, and whether they were racially motivated or not it reminds me again of how it could easily have been me or someone I know. Historically, women in our community have been seen as more vulnerable and easier targets. In 2021, Stop AAPI Hate reported that hate incidents reported by women made up 62% of all reports.

My heart breaks for what these women went through in those final moments, their friends and family coping with their losses, and how it can be hard to stay positive when this happens.

This is not normal. This is not okay.

This could have been me.

As a young woman moving away to college, I recall the constant reminders to “be aware of your surroundings” and increasing my situational awareness: You know, make sure no one is following you to your car in the grocery store parking lot, don’t wear headphones while you’re jogging in the park, avoid walking alone at night. I do all these things, and I’m sure many of you do the same. Or know that you’re taking a risk every time you do these things. And sadly, this is probably how I’ll be raising my daughter.

Layer that on top of being an Asian, where there were constant reminders of being an other and not belonging, or being seen as less than. I’ve gotten comments about how articulate I sound, like people were genuinely amazed; assumptions that I’m a lot younger than I actually am and being treated as such; retaliation when I would speak up for myself (which took years to do by the way, thank you very much) because people assume that I would be submissive and complacent. We’re not supposed to rock the boat. We’re considered the “model minority” — a very harmful stereotype.

And with the combination of the two: Asian women are fetishized and hypersexualized. They’re seen as docile and submissive. Just last year there was a shooting of six Asian women in Atlanta. An excerpt from the linked CNN article states, “The way their race intersects with their gender makes Asian and Asian American women uniquely vulnerable to violence, said Sung Yeon Choimorrow, executive director of the non-profit advocacy group National Asian Pacific American Women’s Forum.” (And I hate typing this because it’s disgusting and a reality I wish didn’t exist.)

So when I think about the intersection of being a woman and an Asian-American, of Christina Yuna Lee and Michelle Go “doing all the things right,” seeming happy and successful, and still victims in the end…it makes this hit home even more.

These were random and senseless crimes, and I still can’t help but wonder: Was it because they were women? Was it because they seemed like they belonged? Was it because they were perceived as docile and submissive, as easy targets? Whatever it was, the thought haunts me that it could have been me, or someone I knew: my sister, my friend. Someone who looked like me.

This is unfair.

As an Asian-American woman living in the US, a mother, a daughter, a sister…I feel anxiety, fear, and anger.

How unfair is it to wake up every day afraid, thinking that by not taking the subway you’re making the right choice, yet you can still be followed into your own apartment after taking a cab and stabbed to death? Thinking that a day you need to go somewhere is just another day in your life, but it’s not because someone shoves you and you neglect to brace yourself for impact when stepping onto the subway because someone shoves you into the tracks? That you may be unsafe going anywhere alone because you have no idea what assumptions someone is making when you pass by?

Am I supposed to become even more diligent and hyperaware to prevent all of these things? Because frankly, I’m tired of extending even more mental energy and effort trying to worry about all the what-ifs. Trying to prevent bad people from thinking I’m an easy target and doing mental gymnastics to figure out ways to avoid tempting fate.

Maybe, just maybe, there isn’t more we can do to prevent the what-ifs and perpetuate living in fear.

So how can we take meaningful action?

This is what I can control.

For starters, we can advocate for our mental health and the mental heath of others, for our communities to be held accountable, and to look out for each other.

We can only focus on the now as the path forward, and what’s within our control. For instance:

• Acknowledge these events. Be vulnerable, particularly if you’re a leader or are responsible for others in any type of capacity. We think a leader is a leader because of their strengths, but vulnerability is even more brave. If you work with a team, reach out to other team members who might be impacted. Be an ally. Don’t “numb” yourself to the impact of these events. I’ve been guilty of trying to numb my feelings through work or endless social media scrolling, but mental health doesn’t work that way. It will catch up to you, so the most important thing is to allow yourself to process it now. It’s the same as being physically sick: you can try to push through it, but that will make it worse when it finally catches up to you.
• Hold space to process, and take care of your mental health. It’s okay to release the pressure of what you should do, to what you need to do: take care of your mental health. Take the day off of work, social media, your long to-do list, and do what brings you back to yourself. It’s okay to rest.
• Know you’re not alone. Talk to friends, family, and people you trust so you have a lifeline. Even if there’s nothing else you can do together, knowing that you’re not isolated can help. And perhaps, you’ll find ways through this together. You can grieve together, acknowledge anger together, and possibly find a way forward together.
• Join safe spaces and communities for women of color so our voices our heard and amplified. I created Swishie as a form of activism with a level of risk I’m comfortable with. Bringing equality and keeping the door open for other women who want to enter my field, creating content for those who need a little bit more confidence or accountability and support to strike it out on their own. Through community, you can find a safe space to come back to your authenticity, to be creative, confident, and curious about life. To feel like you are making inspired actions in your life, instead of allowing the world to box you in.

Wouldn’t it be nice to live in a world where we didn’t have to worry about random ways we could die, always picking the safer alternative, and simply enjoying our days instead of worrying? Let’s work towards that vision. For everyone.

If you’re feeling this way too, know you’re not alone. Please talk to someone and take time for yourself to process these events. Find community, be an ally, and take care of your mental health.

Lia Fetterhoff is a product design leader, writer, and creator of Swishie, providing content and community for women of color to thrive doing the work they love. Lia’s passion is exploring the intersection of design and life, amplifying the journeys of women of color, and sharing insights as a mom, creative, and woman of color in tech. She lives with her husband and two kids in Roseville, CA.