Asian America & Palestine: How I Apply Abolition Principles Today

In November 2023, I was driving to a book talk when I received an email inviting me to attend the annual Filipino American History Month celebration at the White House. I immediately texted my wife a screenshot of the email which read:

Good afternoon Tony, 

On behalf of the White House, we hope this email finds you well. As a part of the Filipino American History Month Celebration in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, we look forward to celebrating with you on Tuesday, November 28.

She immediately called me and said, “You manifested this! But what are you going to do?” Her voice went from joyous to reflexive in a heartbeat because we had been discussing divestment from the Biden administration due to its complicity in Palestinian genocide. I kept thinking, “What if I attend and start a protest from within the White House?” That thought soon dissolved knowing that I would not be joined by many of my Filipino peers. After a day of reflection, I turned it down. I wanted to Tweet something like this:

“I’m on my Rupi Kaur.” #boycottBiden #BDS

Something short, punchy, and relevant. An Instagram content creator famous for her short-form poetry, Rupi Kaur had just posted that she was denying her invitation to celebrate Diwali because of the genocide. I’m not as big or mainstream as Rupi Kaur, so I felt like it had little impact.

After deciding not to attend, I called my mom and told her about the news. My mom shouted, “Oh my god, wow! Are you going?” For my immigrant parents, this invitation was as much a manifestation of their dreams as it was mine due to their immense sacrifices. Because of their labor and my work up to this point, I became a “Super Saiyan model minority” — I graduated from Harvard University with a master’s degree in education, became the first in my family to get a college degree in the United States, wrote an award-winning book before finishing my Ph.D., and now I was being invited to the White House. Akin to the Saiyan in Dragon Ball, I had acquired the power and cultural capital to ascend to the “highest” level. At the end of the day, I told my mom that I was using my platform to decline because I condemn genocide. Her face showed confusion.

Reflecting on that moment, I’m disgusted at myself for thinking over the decision while Palestinians continue to be murdered in the tens of thousands. Even describing Palestinians in aggregate is inhumane as it renders each precious and singular life invisible, and perpetuates the telescopic effect that renders the men, women, and children less human.

Israel’s official declaration of war in October 2023 has led to Palestinian genocide, and responses from our nation’s leaders have been feeble at best. In late October, Biden held the position that “Israel has the right to defend itself,” while his office has shifted recently to embrace a ceasefire resolution. Seeing the irreparable destruction of a people on social media warrants more than a ceasefire; it demands abolition. 

“Abolition is a movement for the dissolution of police and prisons and the restructuring of public safety through investment in housing, healthcare, and education” and was started in the 18th century. What is abolition? Read more here.

On the subject of Palestine and Israel relations, abolition means fighting for Palestinian self-determination and rejecting notions of safety that require the military-industrial complex. As I write this during Asian American, Native Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander month, this is a call for Asian Americans to adopt this stance as more of us continue to speak out and engage in Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS).

When I apply abolition to the contemporary Asian American movement that grew out of the rise of anti-Asian hate crimes in 2020, I consider organizations and companies like The Asian American Foundation (TAAF), Make Us Visible, Kundiman, and other Asian American organizations and groups as they continue their day-in and day-out programming, events, and strategic planning, despite the flood of reports describing Palestinian genocide and calls to divest from the U.S. empire. These are the leading organizations shaping the contemporary Asian American movement through the arts, literature, education, government, pop culture, and more.

Despite being named TAAF’s inaugural “Community Trailblazer” in 2023, I’ve lost much of my trust in the foundation. TAAF’s entanglement with the CEO of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), Jonathan Greenblatt, who sits on their board, is detrimental to the Asian American movement. 

In Dylan Rodriguez’s recent article “How the Stop Asian Hate Movement Became Entwined with Zionism, Policing, and Counterinsurgency,” he outlines how TAAF’s existence is contingent on Greenblatt and the ADL as a key incubator for the foundation. Rodriguez writes, “eJewish Philanthropy describes TAAF’s mission and operations in terms that portray it as an emergent Asian American analog of the ADL.” By adopting ADL’s leadership and structure, TAAF also adopted the ADL’s methodology of “analyzing hate” to market the oppression Asian Americans face. Adopting this methodology hinders how Asian Americans find solidarity with Palestine during this genocide. Moreover, the ADL and Greenblatt conflate anti-Zionism (a political ideology) with antisemitism (a system of oppression). 

Zionism as a political ideology led to the creation of the state of Israel through the Balfour Declaration, a policy from the British government in 1917 that established a Jewish homeland in Palestine after World War I. According to Jewish Voice for Peace in their statement on Zionism, the creation of the apartheid state was a “failed answer to the desperately real question many of our ancestors faced of how to protect Jewish lives from murderous antisemitism in Europe.” It has caused “profound trauma for generations, systematically separating Palestinians from their homes, land, and each other.” Thus, anti-Zionism is “criticism of the current policies of the Israeli state, and/or moral, ethical, or religious criticism of the idea of a Jewish nation-state.”

So when Greenblatt and other Zionist leaders conflate anti-Zionism with antisemitism, it fuels the fear of showing any solidarity toward Palestine during this genocide for fear of being labeled “antisemitic.” This conflation also hinders any form of global accountability toward Israel’s settler colonial project because it markets the popular “self-defense” narrative which calls for more policing and military support. With Greenblatt’s hand in the Asian American movement through TAAF, one must question how his leadership impacts its priorities. 

Fortunately, this is not true for all Asian American organizations driving the public narrative of the contemporary Asian American movement. Recently, the Association of Asian American Studies (AAAS) published a statement refusing a $50,000 grant from TAAF to be in alignment with their BDS policies. 

In a statement on Nov. 3, 2023, the organization shared: “The AAAS unequivocally supports Palestinian freedom and self-determination.” Their recent rejection of TAAF funds as an action of support for Palestinian freedom and self-determination is powerful and desperately needed. It signals to the Asian American community that we don’t have to accept White House invites or blood money to lead, enact solidarity, and define ourselves.

After reading Bianca Mabute-Louie’s article in Reckon News, I learned that the term “Asian American” was coined by Emma Gee and Yuji Ichioka during the Third World Liberation Front and Vietnam War. “Asian American” is a term that was birthed by the ethnic studies movement, a movement started by the Black Student Union at San Francisco State University. And so the term inherently functions as a product of collective liberation and abolition. 

Author Viet Than Nguyen writes, “Asian Americans were once called ‘Orientals,’ a term we rejected partly because we heeded Edward Said’s argument in his classic book ‘Orientalism’ that the Oriental is an object and an opportunity manufactured by the Occident, a fantasy with very real consequences.”

The contemporary Asian American movement is a reckoning to remember and “re-member” ourselves to our roots. “Re-membership” can mean embracing knowledge and wisdom from our bodies, understanding our proximities and boundaries in relation to colonization, and understanding how histories of resistance inform our collective solidarity. 

The contemporary Asian American movement is a tale of two coalitions as described by Palestinian author Rasha Abdulhadi as “a group who wants representation in empire and who is ready for another world.” Those who seek representation in the empire remain silent on Palestine to maintain their ascension in the empire’s hierarchical structures. As a Filipino American for abolition, I seek another world that abolishes notions that we must rely on the military-industrial complex for safety, that understands my personal ties to histories of colonization and resistance, abolishes notions that collective liberation is impossible (when we’ve seen it successful at college encampments across the U.S.), and that abolishes notions that we must assimilate in order to define ourselves. 

For this journey toward another world, we have guides and models to learn from such as: Bianca Mabute-Louie, Jenny Dorsey, YK Hong, Michelle MiJung Kim, Kim Saira, Jeff ML, Viet Than Nguyen, Francesca Hong, Rohan Zhou-Lee, Alice Tsui, Allyson Tintiangco-Cubales, Dylan Rodriguez, and many more embedded in our communities. Beyond individuals, organizations and companies that embody abolitionist principles include: AAAS, The Malaya Movement, Asians 4 Palestine NYC, Anakbayan USA, Yu and Me Books, and the Asian American Justice and Innovation Lab.

Being an Asian American during this genocide of Palestinians changed me forever. October 7 (which happens to be my birthday) pushed my sense of abolition as I work on shedding every semblance of empire within me. I have to radically imagine a world that can hold multiple truths: the truth behind who defines “safety,” the truth behind settler colonialism and genocide, the truth of a divided Asian American movement, and more. As a public scholar, my responsibility is to curate and usher in pathways to freedom dreaming that wield impact from cradle to critical consciousness, for our children and inner children. Will you join me?

Cover Credit : Image by Pok Rie / Pexels