But when they happen here, we’re silent.
IF I WAS an American trying to understand the terrible triple homicide that took place a short time ago in Greensboro, I would want to learn all I could about the background of the alleged shooter and his accomplices. I'd be challenged to go into the Montagnard community, a historically difficult refugee group to reach, and try to make contacts. I could talk to some of the known spokespersons for the community but that's about as far as I might be able to go. Only a handful speak English fluently.
Violence here. When the story broke, reporters contacted American agencies seeking to verify names. Eventually I picked up on the email thread and responded. (“Nie” not the unlikely “Wie” and proper pronunciation of last names, which were botched anyway in the evening’s broadcast.) Graphic from the News-Record.
To broaden my contacts would require interpreters for the several languages spoken by Montagnards, but in such a small and tight knit group it is impossible to ask around without everyone knowing my intention. If community members are used to being tight lipped and are already separated from me by huge language and cultural barriers, then my attempts to investigate would be difficult and probably result in failure.
Violence abroad. From a postcard purchased at the US Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, DC. Easy to talk about when it’s thousands of miles away?
A detective on the case, a public defender assigned to represent the alleged shooter, a policeman who patrols refugee neighborhoods, a school teacher or caseworker who works with the families involved are all severely disadvantaged because of these barriers. I guess that the four defendants in the case will each require a qualified interpreter. That alone strains the community's resources. Unless serious steps are taken now to establish permanent ties, American authorities and public officials will continue to be handicapped in their duties, unable to understand the communities that live here, unable to understand their motives, unable to serve them, unable to anticipate or head off terrible events like July's shootings.
My father was one of just two Asian undercover agents working for the US Department of Justice. At the time, Chinese organized crime syndicates on the West and East coast dealt in drug, prostitution and gambling operations and defied American law enforcement investigation. With no Chinese-American police officers, no relations with America's Chinatowns, and no understanding of the Chinese immigrant experience, local authorities turned a blind eye to crimes inside the Chinese-American community. When police showed up up, people shut up— no sense taking risks since the police weren't reliable anyway. Silence prevailed because of community fear, threats of retaliation, and the general disinterest by most Americans about what went on after the tourists went home. More than a few times my mom alone with us kids got anonymous phone calls. Our family was threatened by guys who were headed to jail, promised a bomb or other acts of violence when they got out. My dad kept a police billy club stowed under the driver's seat. He also had a set of brace knuckles. He took this job, going against prevailing community attitudes, because he was a war veteran with combat experience and PTSD, still looking for adventure. He was also a pretty tough guy able to hold his own.
This happened back in the 1950's. Today Chinese-Americans have been in America for over one hundred years. Only in the past couple of decades have we begin to see real progress. Here in Greensboro we behave as if it was still the 1950's. Our ignorance is staggering despite the monumental shifts in demographics reported by the city in the latest census. Today, advocates are quick to spout reams of information about refugee camp conditions, the history of government repression in refugees’ home countries, whether they're animist or evangelical Christian and talk about individual stories from individuals and families who underwent extreme brutality and loss before their arrival here. Such stories appear almost regularly in local news media. And they almost all end the same way: The family is glad to be here in beautiful Greensboro and thankful to us for our help. We love such stories. They confirm we live in a great place and we're such good people to help them. Organizations that work with refugees have no problem promoting celebrations like the Mosaic Festival in downtown Greensboro. But we have practically nothing to say when tragedies like the July shootings take place, just when our voices and material support are needed.
We probably know more about refugees' past lives in foreign lands than we do about their present circumstances and struggles here in Greensboro.
The Montagnard community is not so large that positive changes can't be made quickly. Like you'll find in most refugee and immigrant communities, its members are genuinely interested in becoming part of mainstream community life.
Here's a story I once heard about an Asian business here in the region. I won't name the ethnic group or nationality or other details, but it goes like this: A certain business needed investors and funds — a very large sum — were raised from many community members here in the area. The owner fled overseas with the money until tracked down by that group's mafia. The business eventually opened and is doing well.
What's the point?
You'll never read about it in the News-Record or anywhere else, for that matter.
