Sunday Read: Cross country trip uncovers a country of fear ... and hope

TAKING A trip across the United States is something that I've always feared doing. It is not the unknown I was afraid of, it was what I know.

I know that most of the country is not like the San Francisco Bay Area where I make my home. 

Encounters with people of other races is an everyday thing in the Bay Area. And here, diversity means more than the black-and-white paradigm that dominates our national conversation. It is impossible in the Bay Area not to meet, work with, interact with Asians in everyday life: fellow commuters, your favorite barista's, doctors and nurses, lawyers, airport security, bus drivers, everywhere and in almost every line of work. We're just ... here.

When tourists wonder at the "diversity" of the region, what they really mean is "There're are a whole lot of Asians around here." Indeed. a walk down San Francisco's main drag, Market Street and you'd swear you're in some Asian metropolis. Visiting UC-Berkeley, the rumors of Asian and Asian American students dominating the campus turns out to be true - or so it seems. Whether it be Filipinos in Daly City, Hercules and Vallejo, Vietnamese in San Jose, South Asians in Fremont, Hawaiians in South San Francisco, and Chinese Americans everywhere, in the Mission, North Beach, the Sunset, East Oakland or in the suburbs of Pleasanton, Dublin and San Ramon.

The Bay Area is far from being a paradise, but compared to other parts of the country ... it's where I feel comfortable. My experiences in my few trips to the South -- Arizona, Texas, Georgia, Florida and Virginia -- was enough to increase my appreciation of the uniqueness of the Bay Area -- and coastal California, in general.

The Donald Trump era has brought my paranoia to a new level. Recent stories of border guards asking for ID's, increasingly gestapo-like tactics by ICE agents, and the growing boldness of white supremacists make me ask myself: is all that angst and increased blood pressure of a cross-country road trip be worth it?

When I was younger, I was too busy pursuing other dreams to embark on such an adventure. Alas, I wish I had, especially after reading the journey of Arvin Temkar, a Filipino-Indian-American, who took a cross-country trip on his motorcycle. The freelance writer and editor, who is of mixed heritage -- Filipino and Indian --  wrote about his journey that was published in the Washington Post, titled "How I fought fear and found faith ib a motorcycle trip across America."

Here's a sampling:

During my three-month journey across the United States, I noticed something unsettling about the American people. We are afraid.

On an Illinois freeway, I passed a series of gun-rights signs with dire messages like: “Dialed 911 and I’m on hold, sure wish I had that gun I sold.” In an Arizona suburb, as I circled a neighborhood block in search of a friend’s house, a man tailed me in his truck and took a photo of my license plate. In Alabama, a store owner told me that he’s afraid immigration will change the white, Christian culture of the nation.

As for me, at every gas station, motel and diner I entered, I couldn’t help but wonder whether the color of my skin was going to land me in some sort of trouble.

During my three-month journey across the United States, I noticed something unsettling about the American people. We are afraid.

On an Illinois freeway, I passed a series of gun-rights signs with dire messages like: “Dialed 911 and I’m on hold, sure wish I had that gun I sold.” In an Arizona suburb, as I circled a neighborhood block in search of a friend’s house, a man tailed me in his truck and took a photo of my license plate. In Alabama, a store owner told me that he’s afraid immigration will change the white, Christian culture of the nation.

As for me, at every gas station, motel and diner I entered, I couldn’t help but wonder whether the color of my skin was going to land me in some sort of trouble.

While I’ve always been self-conscious about my looks, now — as hate crimes against brown-skinned people are on the rise and white supremacy has returned to the spotlight — that awareness has turned into anxiety. How easily, I wondered, could that neighborhood incident in Arizona have turned into a Trayvon-Martin-like situation? Would I become the next Srinivas Kuchibhotla, who was told to “get out of my country” before being shot and killed by an angry white man at a bar in Kansas?

This was my first time driving across the country, and my first time visiting most of the places I found myself in. I was alone and often afraid.

Noam Chomsky has said that fear is a characteristic part of the American identity.

“The United States is an unusually frightened country,” he said in an interview on the progressive website Alternet. The fear, he said, “goes back to the colonies.”

Americans have always been afraid of something — Native Americans attacking, slaves revolting, Mexican immigrants “bringing drugs” or “bringing crime.” The irony though, is that white Americans often brought this paranoia on themselves: The Native Americans were defending themselves from invasion, the slaves were fighting for their freedom. And new immigrants — including illegal immigrants — are less likely to commit crimes than native-born citizens.

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Writer, editor and mmotorcyclist Arvin Temka

I know that in my reluctance to undertake such a journey, that I, too, live in fear.  

I know that playwright David Hwang wrote about the time he was attacked on a New York street -- steps from his home, minding his own business. He was stabbed in the neck for no other reason than he looked Asian.

I know two Indian Americans were just sitting in a restaurant -- as what happened in Kansas City -- when some random man began shooting at them -- fatally wounding one of them -- yelling at them to go back to their country.

I know that Syed Ahmed Jamal, a respected teacher in Lawrence, Kansas was getting in his car to bring his child to school when he's approaced by ICE agents and arrested for deportation. 

I know I could be driving down a street in any suburban town and someone can pull up alongside me and begin yelling epitets at me, or, "Go back to your country!" or pull their eyes back, or yell "Ching, chong ..."

I know I could be getting off a freeway exit ramp and a cop could stop me because I have a beard and I'm wearing a baseball cap ... and my skin is brown.

I know I could be riding a commuter train on my way to the city and someone could start cursing me for "taking over" "their" country.

I know I could walk into a restaurant and everyone, from the waiters to the customers, stop what they are doing and stare at me. Or, the host could simply don't acknowledge my presence, as I wait to be seated.

I know that fear can manifest itself in any number of ways, anywhere, anytime ... by anyone.
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