An
Asian man was also shot dead by a Minneapolis cop
"Fong
was probably feeling the same way, too," she said in Hmong, her eyes
filling with tears. "He was probably asking for me, too."
In
2006, Lee's 19-year-old son Fong - who was born in a refugee camp in Thailand -
was shot eight times by Minneapolis police officer Jason Andersen. The officer
remains on the force to this day, a fact that the Lees were not aware of until
told by the BBC. The officer was terminated twice, but has apparently since
been rehired.
Although
security footage showed Lee was running away at the time, Andersen claimed the
teenager had a gun. A grand jury declined to indict him and the police
department ruled the shooting justified. The family sued in civil court
claiming excessive force and brought evidence the gun found beside Fong's body
was planted. An all-white jury found against them
Youa
hadn't spoken publicly about her son in over a decade, not since the family
came to the end of their legal road with nothing to show for it. But after Lee
saw Floyd's death, she began asking if anyone knew of marches she could
attend."I have to be there," she said.
Although
no one directly discouraged her, some members of her community questioned the
decision. The Twin Cities, as Minneapolis and St Paul are known, are home to
the largest urban population of Hmong in the US, many of whom came to the area
as refugees in the 1980s and 90s.
The
Hmong are an ethnic group from South-East Asia, with their own language, mainly
drawn from southern China, Vietnam and Laos.
Within
that community, there has been heated debate about how to respond to the Black
Lives Matter and Justice for George Floyd movements, which are demanding
systemic change to policing
For Youa Lee, however, there was no debate. She
wanted to get involved for one reason - when Fong
died in 2006, the first people to show up in support of her family came from
the black activist community.
"They were the loudest voices for
us," recalled Shoua Lee, Fong's older sister. "Even before we asked
for help from other communities, they had come to us and offered their
help."
Although four officers have been charged with
the murder of George Floyd on the 25th of May, the viral video of the incident only
captures two of them - former officer Derek Chauvin, who kneeled on Floyd's
neck for nearly nine minutes, and former officer Tou Thao, who kept the crowd
back, rather than going to Floyd's aid.
"Don't do drugs, guys," Thao said
at one point to distressed onlookers. Thao, an 11-year veteran of the
department, has been charged with aiding and abetting second-degree murder. He
is also Hmong.
As soon as Boonmee Yang, a fourth-grade
public school teacher in St Paul, sawthe video, he knew things were going to get complicated in
the Hmong community.
"Oftentimes,
it's always been black victims at the hands of white officers. But now that
someone else who looked like me was also involved in this, it made me really
concerned," he said.
As
a Hmong activist, Yang said that it hasn't always been easy to publicly express
solidarity with the black community. He said some suffer what he calls
"sheltered Asian syndrome", meaning they rarely interact with others
from outside the Hmong community, and that their knee jerk response was to
defend Thao's actions.
There
is also a history of conflict between the two communities, particularly in the
early days of resettlement, according to rapper, artist and activist Tou SaiKo
Lee. Refugee families often wound up in the Frogtown neighbourhood of St Paul
and in East St Paul, areas that have historically had large African American
populations.
"There
was conflict between youth. Fights between new immigrants, new refugees and
those that are currently living in the neighborhood - I was a part of that,"
he recalled. "There's some that still hold that tension."
Unlike
the more broadly defined "Asian American" demographic, the Hmong
community has a much shorter history in the US. Almost half of the Laotian
Hmong fled their country in 1975, after the fall of Saigon in the Vietnam War.
For 15 years, the CIA recruited thousands of Hmong soldiers to fight a
so-called "secret war" against the North Vietnamese, but after the US
pulled out without providing an evacuation plan for their allies, those who
cooperated with the Americans, or were perceived to have, fled. Some were
killed by the communists, thousands wound up in Thai refugee camps.
Tens
of thousands were resettled in Minnesota, an overwhelmingly white state with
few resources for the new immigrant population. Without the ability to speak
the language, many could not find work. Today, the Hmong population in the US
actually has much in common with the African-American population in terms of
socioeconomic and other quality of life factors.
According
to figures from the Southeast Asia Resource Action Center, one in four Hmong
Americans lives below the poverty line. While 50% of the broader category
"Asian Americans" have graduated university, only 17% of Hmong
Americans have a college degree. And while 72% of white families own a home,
less than half of Hmong Americans and African Americans do
Andersen was back on the street two days
after Fong's death. The Minneapolis police chief later awarded him the
department's "medal of valour" for his actions that day.
The Minneapolis Police Department tried to
fire Andersen twice after that - once after he was arrested for domestic
violence, and once after he was indicted by federal investigators for kicking a
teenager in the head during an arrest. The domestic violence case was dropped
due to lack of evidence, and a jury acquitted Andersen in the assault on the
teenager, despite the fact that other officers had reported his actions that
day as excessive. Minneapolis' powerful police union helped get Andersen rehired.
The union is often cited as the reason why it
is so difficult to fire officers with problematic records. In the aftermath of
George Floyd's killing, the city of Minneapolis is trying to take on the union
by withdrawing from negotiations.
Andersen is still an employee of the
Minneapolis Police Department, and serves as the chaplain coordinator. Social
media posts show him handing out donations, like car seats, bed sets and
kitchen supplies to needy families in Minneapolis.
In a brief phone call with the BBC, Andersen
confirmed that he is the same officer from the Lee shooting and referred all
questions to the department's media spokesperson.
"It's something that's been put in the
past and I know that was very, very hard for them because they lost their son,"
he said of the Lees. "I care for the family a lot and they went through
something traumatic.
"Both of us had to live through this so
when this gets dug back up, it's probably - it's something they never want to
hear about again."
It was Tou SaiKo Lee who asked Youa if she'd
like to come to the state capitol, march with Hmong 4 Black Lives and speak
about her son. It'd been almost 10 years, and Tou was also worried that
bringing the case back up might be too traumatic. But her answer was instantly,
yes.
That day, as they walked towards the capitol
steps to join the larger Black Lives Matter group, Youa was in front, walking
silently as the younger Hmong participants chanted around her.
At
some point, someone handed her the microphone. Even though she couldn't do it
in English, she spoke passionately about supporting George Floyd's family and
the movement that was born in his name. She promised to do anything she could
for the Floyd family.
"We
have to join hands with them," she told the crowd. "We come here to
beg for justice and righteousness."
She
wept openly, bringing many gathered around to tears as well, even those who
could not understand her.
"Without Fong Lee's family it
would just be Hmong people bickering back and forth," said Tou SaiKo.
"Many people see their own mother in Fong Lee's mother, many Hmong people,
and so to see her in that emotional state, with those empowering words calling
for solidarity, I thought that was a breath of fresh air."
When
told that Fong's mother had joined the George Floyd protests, Flowers was
pleased. "I'm proud that she's out there supporting," he said.
"My memory is watching her have to go through that and not understanding
the law, not understanding what was really happening in the United States -
that this could happen.
We
as African Americans, we knew what was the possibility and we knew that could
happen. That was sad because we lost another case. That was another case we
lost."
And
although not everyone in the crowd for the first ever Hmong four Black Lives
march could understand her, according to Annie Moua, the person who took the
microphone immediately after Youa summed it up perfectly. "You don't need
to understand since the Hmong to know
what this pain feels like."
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