Staying Silent Was No Longer Enough
Nobody comes for my child.
Silence is golden, but not when staying silent costs you too much.
I never took myself as someone who was political. Sure, I voted, but I tend to ignore the news a lot. I’d passively read about what each candidate stood for and maybe watch a debate or two (listen, I have an early bedtime and the broadcasts for these dang things are way too late for my liking). Want me to sign a petition to give overworked medical staff more time off? Sure, I’ll take two minutes to click over to the link you sent me and type my name and email address in the boxes with the red asterisks. And like many folks, I too donate regularly to nonprofits and organizations in the hopes of making a difference.
(FUN FACT: I close my eyes as I press the ‘donate’ button and wish all the people who will put this money to good lots of love. It still feels a bit silly doing it, to be honest).
The pattern which I’m hoping you sense here, is that my version of making a positive difference was through a more passive means. Any of the above actions I’ve mentioned are totally fine, but for years I felt it in my bones that I wanted to take a more active role. Yes, there are practical reasons why I didn’t for the last few years, like sorting out the logistics of my dad’s death, juggling a full work schedule, and taking care of my family.
The real reason I stayed passive though, was fear.
I didn’t want to face uncomfortable conversations, nor did I want to speak to people in positions of power. The truth was that I would walk into spaces (and heck, even for a walk down the street) and be confronted with situations where my body would freeze. It felt better to be silent — I didn’t have to risk showing the people I was engaging with that I wasn’t as worthy as them.
Take, for example, the dreaded “where are you from?” conversation.
I was standing at the end of my neighbor’s driveway chatting with them when another walked up. Introducing himself as my neighbor’s friend, we all started chatting about the weather and when would we finally feel some relief from the Florida heat. This person then turns around and asks where I’m from. Confused, I told them I lived several houses down.
“No, where are you really from? You know, your heritage?”
It was not the first time I’ve been forced into these conversations. I usually have a snarky answer, but this time I froze. I told him my parents were from Hong Kong and proceeded to talk about the new restaurant that opened in our neighborhood hoping to change the subject.
I walked back to my house angry, feeling like it wasn’t enough for me to simply exist. He reinforced the fact that I wasn’t someone who belonged.
Dearests, if you’re on Substack and like what you’re reading on Searching For Enough please consider recommending this publication. Your readers can come to a safe space where in a world asking you to strive for more, I help them champion for living life on their own terms by listening to and acting on your inner voice.
Staying silent was no longer enough when the world around me told my son he didn’t belong either. My mission in life is to teach my son he is enough as he is, and some jerk was going to make that mission virtually impossible to accomplish.
On what seemed like a perfectly innocent day, I took my son to the playground as we waited for a friend’s store to open. The purple monkey bars looked way too enticing to ignore. We walked along the short pathway lined with Gumbo-Limbo trees. I sat down at a wooden bench while my son smiled in delight at figuring out how to climb to the top of the bars.
Hearing a voice, I tried hard to ignore exactly what it was this man said. I won’t repeat it, but let’s just say it was several phrases reiterating that I didn’t deserve to exist. Seeing that I ignored him, he started screaming obscenities at my son. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him getting closer to the monkey bars.
I stood up. He started to repeat a phrase with the words “Come on Bruce Lee!” in it (there are also obscenities involved, so I will leave it up to your imagination what he really said).
Calmly, I called out to my son to let him know we were leaving for my friend’s store. He climbed down, grabbed my hand. I suggested we skip down the path because I didn’t want to alert my son that someone was becoming aggressive towards us so I wanted to run as fast as possible. I started giggling because I didn’t want him to hear the man following us, continuing to shout. The truth be told, I too wanted to drown out his voice with our happy giggles.
Thankfully, our skip/run got us slightly ahead of him and we got inside a coffee shop in the nick of time. Seeing how frazzled I was, a barista got us a drink and another called the police. While my son drank his lemonade, I knew I wasn’t going to let some stupid person tell him that he wasn’t worthy because he supposedly didn’t belong.
Several weeks later, I started volunteering for an organization that advocates for Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) education in schools.
My initial tasks as a volunteer were to email legislators (aka elected officials in government) asking for their support for a bill the organization was hoping to pass. This bill would require AAPI history to be part of the curriculum in public schools across the state of Florida.
What I didn’t expect was doing any actual speaking in front of said legislators.
When asked if I would testify in favor of the bill, I hesitated. I knew I wanted to talk about the turning point when I finally had enough, but couldn’t relive the incident with my son without tearing up. If I didn’t take this chance though, I would probably regret it for the rest of my life.
Taking a day from work, I drive 2.5 hours each way to Tallahassee, Florida’s capital city, to speak for all of 60 seconds. The whole thing was televised and you can see that I was trying hard to fight back tears.
But I did it.
Dear Chair Simon and distinguished members of the Education Pre-K-12 Committee,
My name is Sarah Li-Cain and I’ve been a resident of Jacksonville, FL for 6 years.
I am proudly standing here today in favor of SB 294.
As a parent, it has been heartbreaking to see the rise of anti-Asian hate, especially as my seven year old son has personally experienced this. Most recently, an adult stranger shouted racial slurs and chased us while we were running to find refuge at a local business.
I know he is not the only child that has experienced this form of hate.
I believe the passing of this bill is important because it acts as a long-term solution to foster empathy and for AAPI children in Florida to feel included and safe in our schools.
All of our children deserve to learn about the wonderful civic contributions from the AAPI community that have moved our nation forward. We are all here for the same goal: to be proud of us as Americans.
I urge you to please vote yes to SB 294.
Thank you.
I still donate to worthy causes. I still sign petitions. And if I’m not acting too much like a curmudgeon old lady about her early bedtime, I still watch political debates.
Now I can add advocating for future generations to that list.
Amazing, Sarah. What a scary experience you and your son had. I’m proud of you for taking a stand and fighting for yourself and others. Thank you!
What a brave, powerful and wonderful thing to do.. Well done! You will have made more difference than you might realise ✨🥰