Drawing Near After the One Who First Drew Near
By Dawn Lake
I
n Spring 2024, the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) published a report on food insecurity across racial and ethnic groups between 2016 and 2021.
Food insecurity is a measure that captures a household’s ability to afford enough food to eat during the year. The report found that Asian households were half as likely to be food insecure (5.4 percent) as all U.S. households (11.6 percent). Across racial and ethnic groups, the Asian household food insecurity rate was the lowest compared to American Indian and Alaska Native households (23.3 percent), Black households (21.0 percent), multiracial households (19.4 percent), Hispanic households (16.9 percent), Hawaiian and Pacific Islander households (15.6 percent), and white households (8.0 percent).
USDA Definitions:
Asian: A person having origins in any of the original peoples of the Far East, Southeast Asia, or the Indian subcontinent—including, for example, Cambodia, China, India, Japan, Korea, Malaysia, Pakistan, the Philippine Islands, Thailand, and Vietnam.
Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander: A person having origins in any of the original peoples of Hawaii, Guam, Samoa, or other Pacific Islands.
A statistic like this might bring to mind the model minority stereotype. Are Asian Americans truly a model minority? Have they been so successful in “pulling themselves up by their bootstraps” that not only are they less likely to be food insecure than other households of color, but they also have the lowest food insecurity rate of all U.S. households?
If we continue leaning into the data, the story becomes more complex. USDA provides separate food insecurity rates for Asian households and Hawaiian/Pacific Islander households. This is significant because data on Asian Americans, Native Hawaiians, and Pacific Islanders is often lumped together, which overlooks the fact that while some Asian Americans may have good health and social outcomes, not all do. This shows up in the data: Hawaiian and Pacific Islander households were three times more likely to be food insecure (15.6 percent) as compared to Asian households. In addition, there were differences across Asian ethnic groups. While all Asian households had a food insecurity rate of 5.4 percent, food insecurity rates across Asian ethnicities (i.e., Asian Indian, Chinese, Filipino, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, and other ethnicities) ranged from 1.7 percent to 11.4 percent – twice the rate of Asian households when compressed together.
As those who follow Christ, we believe in a God who provided daily bread in the wilderness (Exodus 16); a God who multiplied bread for thousands of people (Matthew 14:13-21), and a God who ultimately became bread to satisfy our deepest hunger (John 6:22-59). We can imagine it grieves God that anyone should be hungry; it should lead us to lament too. How do we wrestle with the weight of these realities and love our neighbors as ourselves (Matthew 22:34-40)?
The model minority stereotype is complicated because some Asian Americans have a lived experience that reflects it. Their parents or other ancestors may have immigrated to the U.S. from difficult circumstances and worked incredibly hard from modest means to provide a better life for their children. It must be said: this is special and deserves to be honored and celebrated.
At the same time, as some at AACC have written, the model minority stereotype is a harmful myth. The foundation of the model minority myth is the American dream, which puts forth that all Americans have the same opportunities for upward mobility—all successes and failures are based on individual merit. The model minority myth presumes that a whole group of people are naturally more likely to be successful and achieve the American dream. It minimizes hard-fought successes Asian Americans have won as well as oppression they have faced. This can create a wedge between Asian Americans and other people of color, and even between Asian American ethnic communities, by pitting them against each other. The model minority myth dares to ask, “If these people could succeed here, why couldn’t you?”
This leaves little room to acknowledge that while some Asian Americans may be able to afford food for their families, other neighbors of color, including other Asian American neighbors, may have difficulty. Some Asian American ethnic groups are also more likely to be unemployed or in poverty, and this is not simply because they didn’t work as hard. The model minority myth glosses over the fact that no matter how many Asian Americans achieve the “American dream,” this will not guarantee their full inclusion and belonging in this country. Asian Americans have long faced racism and continue to be perceived as perpetual foreigners and experience other forms of discrimination, including barriers to home ownership.
If the model minority myth pressures Asian Americans to deny the full gravity of injustice perpetrated against them, it may be difficult to recognize unjust government systems that prevent other people of color from having the same opportunities to thrive. Over the course of the United States’ history, policymakers have passed discriminatory laws that make it harder for Black, Latinx, and Native American people to have flourishing neighborhoods to live in, equal educational opportunities, adequately paying jobs, and quality health care. Each of these relate to a higher likelihood of poverty, which may result in some racial and ethnic groups facing more severe food insecurity.
If the model minority myth is wrong about all Asian Americans being more likely to succeed, then could the American dream also be wrong in claiming that every American has an equal chance of success? Do these beliefs prevent us from naming unfair systems of government and how they limit people’s access to food or other basic needs? Do they encourage us to distance ourselves from issues like food insecurity that we should contend with? How do we keep our eyes open and our hearts soft towards our neighbors who may be experiencing food insecurity and other hardships in our country?
American policymakers would not be the first in human history to create unfair systems of government. When God first gave his people the law, he instructed them to integrate caring for their neighbors in their organization of society. For example, they were to intentionally leave crops for poor people and sojourners to harvest too (Leviticus 19:9-10). They also were to forgive others’ debts every seven years to alleviate the burden on poor people, and to not be exacting towards others with less resources but to give generously (Deuteronomy 15:1-11).
However, God’s leaders took advantage of the people they were supposed to take care of. They were ostentatious in their religious practices, and God reprimanded them for their hypocrisy. Instead of “going through the motions of penance,” he called them to the following: “Free those who are wrongly imprisoned; lighten the burden of those who work for you. Let the oppressed go free, and remove the chains that bind people. Share your food with the hungry, and give shelter to the homeless. Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help” (Isaiah 58:5-7).
Drawing near to issues of racial injustice helps us to mirror Jesus in his love and compassion. Jesus came to us in the most radical way by becoming human and willingly subjecting himself to crucifixion on a cross, one of the severest forms of capital punishment of his day, in order to repair our relationships with the Father for how we have strayed from him and his intentional design of how we should live.
Jesus cared deeply about the sin that separated people from the Father—and he also had compassion for their physical, human struggles on this earth. He did not distance himself from their hardship and brought healing in the many encounters he had with people, even when it challenged the authority of religious leaders (Matthew 12:9-14; Luke 13:10-17; John 9:1-41). He lamented how faulty stewardship of institutions of his day failed people, how leaders took advantage of their power and did not care for others as they were entrusted (Matthew 23:1-36).
Many years before Jesus came to earth, his ancestors were forced from their homes by a hostile nation. During this time, God told them in Jeremiah 29:7, “Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” They were enduring oppression but were called to continue living – to engage in the physical place they were in and to pursue the welfare of their neighbors. In continuation of this, after Jesus had resurrected from the dead and ascended into heaven, the first believers were overflowing with joy in their salvation. Their devotion to their faith led them to give generously to meet people's physical needs, and the people around them could see and feel their impact (Acts 2:42-47).
How do we draw near to our neighbors the way Jesus drew near to us? We can donate or volunteer at our local food banks, but we can also consider the role our government institutions have in this work of neighbor care too. There are intentional, unjust decisions by policymakers that have limited people’s ability to afford food, which should grieve us. There are also policies that increase people’s access to food that we can support. What would it look like for programs like federal food assistance to be administered as God would have designed? Can we preach a Jesus who died to save our souls if our values don’t reflect a Jesus who cares about our physical bodies and the social inequities that impact them? How do we bear witness to the world of our Father’s deep love for us in how we engage in sociopolitical issues? How can our seriousness about our faith shape our political engagement, such as how we vote and the issues we advocate for? Could it make people curious about the Savior we follow? He mirrored us first; let us mirror him now.
Photo by Dan DeAlmeida on Unsplash
Dawn Lake is a 2.5 generation Chinese American with roots in Hong Kong. She dreams of a world where our government institutions reflect God’s justice and compassion—healthcare, food, transit, and beyond—where everyone is one step closer to having all they need to live and thrive.
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