Chai Soua Vang - lemme get this striat

So ............Chink-o-rink-o boy guns down 8 helpless people and he is the good guy? ggeee what if he were black?

jessey jaksun would be all over his assz.

horkey Mcdorkey.


Columnist

Why did Chai Soua Vang, a Hmong hunter, kill six deer hunters in Wisconsin? As soon as the shooting occurred, on Nov. 21, 2004, I received emails and phone calls from friends as far away as New York, asking me this question. They think I will know the answer because I am also Hmong. When I told them I haven’t the slightest clue, they then asked me if he was a relative. All of my Caucasian friends let out a sigh of relief when I answered “no.” One proceeded to tell me she knew I couldn’t be related to a “monster” like Vang. After all, I have a sweet and pleasant nature, as do most Asians in her eyes.

It was interesting to see which lens the community used to view this case. We turned it into race/culture, but couldn’t it just as easily have been covered as “U.S. Military Man Snaps”? Chai Soua Vang served in the California Army National Guard, after all.

Why didn’t the media say “Gun-nut Shootout?” Too afraid of crossing the NRA?

We could have seen “Rageaholic Conflagration” or “Trespasser Turmoil.”

Or an unbiased: “Men Shot After Dispute.”

Instead, we sensationalized it as “Hmong on a Rampage.”

Would we tolerate it if the same kind of coverage was applied to any other culture? What if we said “Muslim Mass Murder” or “Latino Slaughter”? We’d never get away with saying “White Folks Kill Again,” to cover something like the BTK killer or Jim Jones at Jonestown.

But back to race it goes, and people will be surprised that Vang and I share more than the same last name and heritage. We both have been victims of racial violence. As a victim of racism, I’ve often felt my life was threatened. I wonder now: What would I have done if I had had a bat or a gun?

Headlines such as “Hmong Hunter Kills...” imply that Hmong culture is responsible for Vang’s actions, fermenting violence and mass-homicide. But America’s unremitting racism pushes people until they snap, and it can’t be let off the hook.

From the time I came to this country from the refugee camps of Thailand until today, I’ve been jumped, punched, beaten, bullied and intimidated by America’s children, teenagers, adults and even pushy senior citizens. I’ve been called every name in the book—“gook,” “chink” and others.

I find racism even when I’m doing something as simple as applying for a job. People have questioned whether I could really read, write and speak English. My brothers and sisters, my parents, aunts and uncles, and all my friends have their own stories of the terrible things America’s racists have done and said to us. I’ve seen people die or be sent to intensive care units because of it.

There are feelings of rage, embarrassment, sadness, inadequacy and disappointment I can barely express. And fear.

How much racial harassment can one person take in a lifetime?

Thankfully, I’ve not yet reached my threshold, but I can understand those who have.

If I was in Vang’s position, surrounded by Caucasian men calling me names in the backwoods, and one of them shot at me while I was walking away, I would defend myself without regret or hesitation. I’m not going to wait around to find out how far a racist is going to take their hatred against me, and I would expect no less from anyone else.