Yellow Peril 2.0

I am a naturalized American citizen. I came to this country legally. My slate is squeaky clean. I have no rational reason to be afraid. Yet I am.

1886 ad for washer, urging Americans to stop using Chinese laundries.

I WAS WALKING along the south edge of Central Park when I saw a woman in handcuffs. I usually pay scant attention to this type of scene (hey, I’m a New Yorker), but this time I stopped.

She was a middle-aged Asian woman in cheap, nondescript clothes and sneakers. She didn’t look threatening. Flanked by officers in plain-clothes, she seemed terrified, as she was pushed into an unmarked SUV.

What did this woman do to merit such ceremony? Assault someone in the park? Run a drug cartel? Offer illicit services?

None of those possibilities felt right. Quickly, I wondered: Could this be an ICE raid?

It’s only logical. Immigrants, including legal residents, are now being hunted down, getting detained at airports, picked up off the street, held without explanation, or speedily deported. Just like that. Gone.

To be clear, I have no idea if this woman’s travails had anything to do with immigration. But her arrest touched a nerve, tapping a vein of insecurity I didn’t know I had.

I am a Taiwan-born, naturalized American citizen. I came to this country legally. My parents came here legally. My slate is squeaky clean. I have no rational reason to be afraid. Yet I am.

Soon after taking office, Donald Trump resuscitated the Alien Enemies Act of 1798 to carry out his mass deportation agenda. Under this rarely invoked law, immigrants can be quickly expelled without due process. (So far, the administration has sent at least 137 Venezuelan nationals, alleged gang members, to a notorious maximum-security prison in El Salvador, without any kind of hearing.)

Trump is also stymying legal immigration and throwing a monkey wrench at established routes to citizenship. He’s ending DACA, which protects immigrants who grew up in this country from deportation, and revoking the protected status of political refugees, including Afghans who served the U.S. government. And, of course, he’s hellbent on ending birthright citizenship.

I am not affected by any of these measures, but I am jumpy. If established rights, such as birthright citizenship, can be stripped away, are naturalized citizens like me vulnerable as well?

Lately, my imagination has been running wild. Did my father make a mistake in his immigration paperwork (mind you, that was over 50 years ago) that could jeopardize my citizenship? Could I be deemed a security threat for something I’ve written or said? Am I naive to assume that my rights as an American are unassailable?

You might think I’m paranoid. Yet, history shows I’m not completely nuts.

Yung Wing, the first Chinese to graduate from Yale College (class of 1854), was a naturalized American, yet his citizenship was revoked under the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. (Interestingly, the Supreme Court later ruled in United States v. Wong Kim Ark that the Exclusion Act did not prevent the children of Chinese immigrants born in the U.S. from acquiring birthright citizenship.)

Yung Wing, the first Chinese graduate of Yale.

Once again, Trump is making China the boogeyman. He’s launched an all-out trade war against China, blaming that nation for America’s economic woes. While there are legitimate reasons to go after China on trade, what’s disturbing is the jingoistic language Trump deploys in his attacks.

“China is ripping us off,” he’s ranted. “They’re killing us in trade. They’re killing us in manufacturing. China is eating our lunch.” In sum, China is not just a rival but an insatiable monster that gorges on what belongs to America.

Yellow Peril 2.0, anyone?

Give Trump credit for not hiding his racism. During his first term, he labeled Covid-19, the “China virus” and the “Kung Flu,” fueling a torrent of racial hate in which Asians were viciously attacked and even killed across America. (Studies show a correlation between Trump’s anti-China rhetoric and incidences of Asian hate.)

The tentacles of xenophobia extend beyond trade. The latest example is the sweeping travel ban on citizens of 12 countries who happen to be mainly Black, brown or Asian.

Then, there’s academia where China gets extra attention. Recently, Secretary of State Mark Rubio announced that the U.S. will “aggressively revoke” the visas of Chinese students, and that those “with connections to the Chinese Communist Party or studying in critical fields” will be targeted. (Though Trump throws out the welcome mat to buyers of his cryptocurrency with ties to the Chinese Communist Party.)

It’s totally unclear what constitutes “connections to the Chinese Communist Party” or what defines “critical fields.” But that hardly matters. Because the message is clear: The Chinese are a threat to America and need special scrutiny.

What’s insidious about all this is that it blurs the line between the Chinese government and Chinese people. And that’s precisely the cruel genius of Trump’s rhetoric — it erases distinctions. Between Asians and Asian Americans. Between immigrants and citizens. It makes all Asians suspect.

At heart is the idea that Asians in America are secretly loyal to their country of national origin – that they can never be true Americans. That was the rationale for the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II, which too was based on the Alien Enemies Act of 1798.

Until recently, I thought imprisoning Americans based on race could never, ever happen again – that it’s as unimaginable as reinstating segregated bathrooms or taking away women’s right to vote. But perhaps it behooves us to think outside of that box.

I can still see that woman in handcuffs in Central Park – her bowed head, her look of fear. And her shame. There's no reason for her to have this pull on me, but she does. Because that’s the thing about being Asian in America right now: you’re suspect, even when all you’ve done is walk through the park.