Over the past few weeks, the media has latched onto anti-Asian American racism after a surge of anti-Asian hate crimes across the nation. Ever since COVID-19 struck the United States, the rates of these violent and discriminatory incidences have skyrocketed.

Stop Asian American and Pacific Islander Hate, a reporting database for these incidents, recorded more than 2,800 cases of anti-Asian hate from March 19 to Dec. 31, 2020. This uptick is no longer new — it has been prevalent for almost a year.

So, why is it just now being brought to our attention?

These movements — such as the current #StopAsianHate movement and the Black Lives Matter movement that was popularized this past summer — have only gained traction in mainstream media recently, despite years of xenophobia, systemic racism, violence and anti-Asian and anti-Black sentiment.

The fact that these conversations fall in and out of fashion is indicative of a larger problem with the way our society functions.

Generally, we struggle to reconcile and focus on multiple issues at once — be it a result of the way these discussions are structured or the desensitized fatigue from hearing about innumerable, never-ending issues — and often don’t realize these issues can exist in tandem.

It may be easier to digest and focus on one matter at a time, but doing so sets a dangerous precedent. We continuously treat racism toward different marginalized communities as solitary conversations when there’s more nuance and intersectionality to take into account.

Sensationalizing movements, reducing them to individual moments — such as George Floyd’s death — and boxing them into their own categories comes precariously close to treating issues like trends.

If we move quickly from one issue to the next without building on previous discussions, we interfere with our ability to recognize the full extent of systemic racism.

Both in and outside of oppressed communities, this black-and-white perspective serves as a barrier to progress. If we compare very different experiences of oppression and rank them in a hierarchy, we essentially pit victims of white supremacy against one another rather than fostering an environment in which communities can unite against discrimination and work toward restorative justice and liberation.

Of course, some communities — despite having a history of solidarity — have normalized racism and prejudice against one another, and it may be harder to dismantle this mentality. 

This binary point of view forces communities into monoliths and labels them with certain struggles, dismissing the multitude of other problems they face and identities they have. With Asian Americans and the model minority myth in particular, it has become a misconception that Asians are protected from the effects of racism.

Viewing racial minorities as a collective rather than individually also allows them to be easily turned into scapegoats.

In times of crises, the United States has consistently found a way to blame invisible or incomprehensible tragedies on minority groups: the AIDS epidemic, 9/11 and now COVID-19.

Many may pin these consequences on the media — after all, doesn’t mainstream media shape what we read and are told to care about?

However, newspapers typically strive to be neutral, balanced and well-rounded. Mainstream media and the news we specifically consume are simply reflections of our own behaviors and priorities.

Journalists have been covering a vast range of topics and social injustices for years. Instead of putting all of the responsibility on an industry that is already providing us with the information we ask for, we must focus on knowing where to look and being intentional about what we consume.

We need to avoid gathering all of our information from Instagram or Snapchat or even The New York Times. Subscribing and paying attention to — credible — international news outlets, news organizations that lean to the opposite side of the political aisle and local news sites will give us a more comprehensive scope, featuring less well-known or “clickable” topics.

Placing all of our trust in one news source only further alienates us from the important news that is not in our immediate bubble of comfort and familiarity.

Part of the movement toward increased societal awareness involves educating the public on media literacy, so citizens know how to research and find reliable, objective news sources — ones that lie outside of curated lists and convenient posts that only amplify their pre-existing opinions.

Just as we must make the effort to be intersectional, so too must we push ourselves to confront our biases in what we read and pay attention to.

But being aware of our media consumption is only the first step.

It is crucial that we take action ourselves and acknowledge the long-established organizing efforts of these movements — such as between Black and Asian communities. These resources, people and networks weren’t created once it was popular or trendy to be socially conscious. They have always been there.

We should also acknowledge the history of racism in our country. When we discuss how the pandemic has exacerbated hatred toward the Asian American community, we must recognize that before mainstream media highlighted these hate crimes and even before the coronavirus, there was already a foundation for xenophobic rhetoric in our country.

When the Chinese Exclusion Act was implemented in 1882, immigrants were quarantined without consent for diseases they didn’t actually have. Officials and leaders of the country spread misinformation that Chinese immigrants were carriers of disease to justify a xenophobic law.

Today’s sentiment toward Asians, spurred by COVID-19, is a modern adaptation of fear-mongering that was sowed centuries ago.

Without organized and individual action, as well as intentional education — recognizing the pattern of behavior throughout history and examining the intersectional nature of oppression — we will never be able to address the root of these issues.