Revisiting a History of
Shared Resistance

1992, Los Angeles was the date and place of the infamous Rodney King riots (also known as the Los Angeles riots) which was prompted by the unjust acquittal of four policemen guilty of beating a black man for fifteen minutes straight leading to skull fractures and permanent brain damage. This assault had been caught on camera and was broadcast nationwide, but seemingly did nothing to change the final verdict of the case and allowed a "not guilty" ruling for all four of the policemen responsible. What followed next in South Los Angeles was what would be remembered as an awakening of sorts for the residents of the neighborhood, and perhaps even an inevitability for the long held tensions and resentments of the community—most of which were Asian-American and Black populations.

The weeklong riot that followed resulted in thousands of injuries and upwards of 63 deaths with an extremely slow response by the local government attempting to control the situation that had turned violent within hours. With the main damages of the riots being done to Korean-American businesses in the area and the news' characterization of Black rioters as committing senseless violence, these events became part of the myth of "Black-Korean conflict," and contributes to this day to a narrative of hostility and hatred between Asian and Black diaspora in America.

(photo credits: Koreatown Storytelling Program)

(photo credits: Orange County Register)

In the case of the Rodney King riots, media headlines that focused on the so called Black-Korean conflict immediately took attention away from the LAPD, especially the majority white police force and the officers that had gotten away with virtually no repercussions at the time (two out of the four were later indicted and served 2.5 years in prison). Sensational pictures such as the ones shown below were quick to circulate across the country, with Korean business owners holding and aiming guns from their shops and Black protestors standing in front of burning buildings. These images further cemented the idea of the riot's origins as being founded in racial tension between Asian immigrants and the predominantly Black neighborhoods in California, with Korean-Americans shown as gun-toting radicals ready to shoot down their neighbors and Black protestors being held responsible for the actions of a crowd that became uncontrollable in the quick escalation of the week's events.

Although this escalation would not have been possible without the LAPD setting the stage for such violence and repressed resentment for years prior, mainstream news was quick to cling to the idea of racial conflict removed from whiteness and police occupation. The reimagination of the unrest that was born out of police brutality on ethnic minorities erases a far more insidious history of the heavy police presence in South Los Angeles, a history that exemplifies the far reaching grasp of white supremacy in our country.

Since the 1980s, the LAPD had been active in aggressively controlling South Los Angeles, an area that hosted the poor minority populations of California and known for its low unemployment rate and frequent drug and gang activity. Abusive police activity and drug busts that led to its inhabitants being unhoused were common occurrences, especially under Chief Daryl Gates who served on the force for a total of forty three years, fourteen as chief. It was also under his supervision that the riots took place, as well as the numerous accounts of similar police violence upon the minority communities of the area that had been taking place for years. The Hispanic community in South Los Angeles were also unspoken victims of the LAPD, who were regularly targeted for deportation during this period, and made up half of the arrests during the 1992 riots (mostly for breaking curfew). By omitting stories of the violence enacted upon Latino immigrants and exacerbating the tensions between two ethnic communities that were intentionally abandoned in a time of need, white mainstream media promoted a story that benefits our white supremacist culture. This story ignores the efforts to rebuild a community among different minority groups in the aftermath of riots, riots prompted by police violence and a racist criminal justice system, and takes away any blame that could be accounted to systemic violence by an overwhelmingly white police force. In the end, the Los Angeles riots that we remember today are synonymous with "Black-Korean conflict."

Creating a more accurate account of the events of 1992 in South Los Angeles is difficult when considering the fact that even at the time, more hopeful news coverage was either outright rejected or added as footnotes to the more scandalous narrative that was pushed to the forefront of the public imagination. A New York Times reporter at the time remembers his interview with a Korean shopkeeper who stopped selling guns at his store in a gesture of solidarity with his mainly Black customers, a story that barely ended up "somewhere in the back end of the story" (Shyong). The Black-Korean alliance in Los Angeles that began in 1986 only received two instances of media coverage, when it began and when in ended. With the failure of traditional law enforcement fresh in their minds, an Alternative Dispute Resolution Center was also formed by the Korean-American coalition in 1992, specifically targeting minority populations of Los Angeles and received equally low media attention. Already from a major event that received widespread public attention and video documentation we can see missing voices and perspectives, all which contribute to a shift in blame from white supremacist history and practices to petty conflict between marginalized groups. Again, we have to ask ourselves: who does this serve? Whose story is the media really telling?

Even from closer look at the riots of 1992, which were mainly concentrated to one county of California and spanned less than a week, it's difficult to gauge the missing pieces that could help us better understand its painful events. Seeing the community organization efforts that had been happening before and especially after the riots amongst the minority populations of South Los Angeles however, give us hope in shifting how we look back at a history so centered around whiteness and preserving its power. Here are some other key moments in the intersection of Asian and Black diaspora in America that deserve to be highlighted for their efforts in building community:

(Illustration created by Monyee Chau)

• The Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which prevented immigration into the U.S. and already established Chinese-American residents from gaining citizenship, was protested by abolitionist Frederick Douglass who argued for a more diverse America, crediting immigrants for the accomplishments and growth of the country
• "Asian-American" as an identifying term for Asian residents of the U.S. rose to prominence in the 1960s in conjunction with the Civil Rights movement. Its original purpose is to put our community in political solidarity with Black and Brown communities and grow our collective power

This phrase gained traction in America particularly in student led activist groups during multiple movements of political activism. These are some of the most prominent examples of the term's use for activist purposes.

• Student protestors in California (Berkeley and Oakland) created liberation fronts involving the Black Student Union, Mexican American Student Confederation, Asian American Political Alliance, and Native American Student Alliance who advocated for more diverse curriculums
• Black and Asian student protestors used the slogan to protest against U.S. support and involvement in the Vietnam war
• Asian Americans again invoked this slogan to protest and advocate for the release of Huey Newton, co-founder of the Black Panther Party who was arrest in 1969
• Increase in Asian hate crimes following a global pandemic and a growing Black Lives Matter movement intersected in 2020, leading to another wave of "Yellow Peril Supports Black Power" and "Black-Asian Unity" posters, protests and merchandise

(Photo cred: Roz Payne)

• The Black Panther Party's goals of international solidarity and a global fight against imperialism led to sympathy with North Korea, which even then was being characterized by the West as a socialist danger to ideals of democracy
• Black Panthers supported North Korea's hopes of peaceful reunification with the South and criticized the devastation the U.S. left in the country in the aftermath of the Korean War
• North Korea called out racial discrimination in America, specifically against Black Americans as "proof of US barbarity"
• Black Panthers took inspiration from the North Korean concept of 'Juche,' meaning complete political autonomy and independence and incorporated these values into their own message of resistance

Since the beginning of Asian immigration into America and the racist conceptualizations of immigrants and diaspora communities, a myth surrounding intrinsic conflict between marginalized communities has been promoted by our white supremacist culture. Even with shared experiences of being victimized by a racist system, our media is hesitant to show historical moments of transcultural and transnational solidarity—this is reflected as well in the parts of culture that touch and influence the general public's every day lives, from the recipes we popularize to the movies that we remember and return to. In my own efforts to create a mini-archive of sorts of said movies and foods that contain themes of solidarity and hope, my following blog posts will feature recommendations for films and discussion that can be used in a wide range of contexts. My only guidelines are that these movie nights are meant to be collaborative activities that begin conversations through film and food, and would be most helpful and fun with a group!