'If Hate Is A Virus, There Is No Vaccine': Asian Photographers Speak Out

The arrival of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month has come at a particularly difficult moment. It has been nearly two months since shootings at three Atlanta-area spas left eight people dead — including six women of Asian descent — and in AAPI communities across the country, pain, tears, frustration and loss continues to reverberate.

For many, the grief has been compounded by a growing sense of fear over facing violence or harassment in their own lives. Indeed, many already have. On the same day as the Georgia shootings, the group Stop AAAPI Hate released a report documenting 3,795 "hate incidents" against Asian Americans between March 2020 and February 2021 — a figure the group said was likely a vast undercount.

To help understand these challenges, we invited a group of AAPI photographers to share their reflections on the violence and on what Asian community, culture and life really looks like. Here is what they had to say.

Eric Lee

For the last year, my ngin ngin (grandmother) and ye ye (grandfather) were confined to their two-story home to protect themselves from COVID-19. It felt strange to ring their doorbell and walk into where I spent many days after preschool. While it felt so familiar, it was also so different. There were no more birds in cages singing in the window, only plants and photos of my cousins Jen and Chrissy in their college graduation gowns. The lounge chair where my oldest cousin, Tabitha, taught me how to catch Pokemon on Gameboy was gone, replaced by a calligraphy station. The three '90s televisions with antennas were gone, replaced by one smart TV.

I worried about my grandparents because of how severe COVID-19 could be on the elderly. It was agonizing to hear that they made trips to Manhattan's Chinatown to buy groceries and food, even at the height of the pandemic. When New York State opened the vaccine distribution, my cousin Tabitha, who is the only