Embrace Difficult Conversations to Foster Understanding and Change
Hello, another Chinese person here. It may seem ironic that I’m addressing the fear of speaking out, especially since I work as a journalist, but please bear with me.
If you’re a Chinese person reading this, you likely know that race and racism have been prevalent topics in the news recently. Perhaps you’ve come across some commentaries or seen viral posts. You might have your own thoughts on these issues but haven’t expressed them. Maybe you feel the Nair siblings were justified but hesitate to engage in a debate with friends. Perhaps you recognize that brownface is unacceptable but prefer to avoid confrontation. Or maybe you’re just puzzled by the anger surrounding these discussions.
If any of this resonates with you, this piece is meant for you.
Discussing social justice topics, whether online or in person, is daunting for many, including those of us at RICE. It often feels overwhelming, as though you need to master terms like “microaggressions” or “intersectionality”—academic concepts that have yet to gain mainstream traction—to participate meaningfully.
To clarify, this discussion is not about dismissing these terms as “American liberal SJW language.” Debating cultural contexts is one thing; instantly rejecting concepts because they originated elsewhere is another. We’ve never dismissed megachurches, self-care, or McDonald’s for being American imports. Using “American” or “the liberal West” as a blanket term to disregard unfamiliar or uncomfortable ideas is poor reasoning, so let’s leave it there.
Beyond accessibility, these topics are inherently nuanced. They invite strong opinions and intense debates, which can make many Singaporeans reluctant to engage—especially if they hold a potentially controversial view, have a question they fear might seem foolish, or disagree with someone else’s perspective.
You may worry that you don’t know enough to contribute or fear you won’t articulate your thoughts clearly. More often, you might be concerned about saying something incorrect, sparking a heated debate, and facing backlash from the online community, leaving you feeling overwhelmed.
So, many choose silence.
While it may sound like I’m justifying inaction, the truth is that few individuals feel confident discussing race, online or offline. Expressing one’s thoughts is a skill that develops with practice, and it’s easier to feel secure when you wholeheartedly believe in your stance. However, it’s more challenging when you’re uncertain of your correctness.
This may seem like an unusual focus, but speaking up—whether to ask questions, challenge a perspective, or make a point—distinguishes passive non-racism from active anti-racism. The former allows discrimination to persist through complicity, while the latter actively seeks to combat it through action. It’s the difference between feeling uncomfortable when your uncle cracks a joke about “Indians and their funny accents” and questioning why he thinks that’s funny.
To make progress, we can’t allow discussions about race (or class, or sexual orientation, or any social issue) to be a battleground for a mere 5 percent of people while the other 95 percent watch in intimidated silence.
This brings us to how we can effectively engage in activism and encourage more people to join the conversation. However, there’s a fine line between exploring how to make activism more accessible and using the claim that social justice is “inaccessible,” “intimidating,” or “only for Western-educated liberal elites” as a rationale for inaction. Unfortunately, we (meaning any majority group, specifically Chinese people) often lean too heavily on the latter.
There are numerous pathways to learning about racism and social justice—and none require a “liberal Western elite education.”
Ruby Thiagarajan, an activist and editor of Mynah magazine, shared that there are countless free resources available. She attended The School of the Arts (SOTA) before studying abroad, but her “awakening” began long before she left Singapore or encountered these topics in school. “My parents aren’t activists, and they have no liberal arts or humanities background, so I didn’t get exposure to it at home,” she explained.
“While some may find their interest in social justice through the arts and humanities, for me, it was the other way around. I was interested in social justice issues before entering SOTA. It provided a great environment to explore these topics, but it definitely wasn’t a bubble.”
Ruby credits watching Live 8 on TV as a pivotal moment that ignited her interest in social justice issues, leading her to “click around on [her] own” and engage with platforms like Reddit. While at university, she started a campus feminist discussion group to explore topics in a judgment-free environment.
Despite a university education (especially in the arts, humanities, and social sciences) promoting the study of these issues, it’s by no means a prerequisite for showing interest.
Today, there is a wealth of material online—commentaries, videos, news articles, social media posts, and more—from a variety of perspectives, leaving no excuse for anyone (unless you’ve been in a decades-long coma) not to encounter these topics. Coupled with offline avenues, like conversations with friends, there are ample resources for individuals to take charge of their learning.
Visakan Veerasamy, known for his straightforward commentaries, exemplifies this: “I didn’t go to uni; I picked up the language organically from conversations around me—Twitter, Facebook, friends, news, etc. If I wasn’t sure about something, I just Googled it.”
In essence, not having formally studied these concepts is not a valid excuse for inaction.
Moreover, there’s no need to dwell on the notion that social justice terminology can be intimidating. It’s true that terms like “intersectionality” may alienate some, and discussions around social justice should aim for clarity rather than academic jargon.
Nonetheless, Ruby points out, “There’s no rule stating that discussions on social justice need to involve complex terminology. Some people do use them—typically writers or scholars—and they have their place in the discourse, but we don’t expect everyone to be part of that world.”
Or, as Visakan succinctly puts it, “Don’t speak like some intimidating, condescending smartass.”
Ultimately, blaming minorities and activists for not being more persuasive misses the mark—and this was a mistake I made in conceptualizing this piece until Ruby and Visakan enlightened me. While discussing communication strategies is one thing, it’s victim-blaming to assert that racism continues because activists fail to present their case convincingly (or “nicely”). Racism persists because individuals lack the motivation to address it.
At its core, social justice embodies the belief that no group—whether based on race, gender, sexual orientation, or any other identifier—is superior to another, and that everyone deserves equal and fair treatment.
This is a cause that everyone should care about. The idea that participating requires intellect, specialized resources, a Western education, or exceptional confidence is flawed and dangerous. As long as majority groups use these as excuses for our inaction, no meaningful change will occur.
Racism, and all forms of bigotry, exist on a binary: you either believe that all racial groups are equal, or you do not. There is no “neutral” position.
While it’s true that individuals rarely act in accordance with our beliefs, leading to a spectrum of harmful behavior (though it is fundamentally all still racist), the absence of a middle ground in racism does not preclude us from seeking common ground in discussions about it.
Part of this involves avoiding shaming those who “don’t get it” or who refuse to engage with opposing views, provided they are expressed in good faith. Saying “It’s 2019; why aren’t you with the program?” only serves to make others defensive.
We also cannot rely solely on empathy. While it can be powerful, it is not a cure-all. Imagination—even when coupled with good intentions to understand another’s perspective—cannot bridge all gaps in lived experiences.
The only way forward is to learn to speak out.
If we aim for a more equal and respectful society, all of us—particularly Chinese individuals and other majority groups, given the privilege that comes with our positions—must overcome our fear of difficult conversations. We need to ask questions, even if we’re apprehensive about doing so. The foundation of racial harmony, a cherished ideal, is not merely tolerance; it is understanding, which can only be achieved through reflection and active participation.
It is the responsibility of majority groups to educate ourselves, initiate discussions, and examine our assumptions and biases. Importantly, we must encourage others—friends, family, or colleagues—to confront their biases as well. Privilege often blinds individuals to its own existence, and many Chinese people may not recognize the advantages they hold until someone else explains them.
There are numerous ways to facilitate this process, none of which need to be hostile.
For instance, when discussing race with your parents, consider introducing examples of casual racism as they arise in conversation and ask for their thoughts. For example, point out a rental ad that states, “Indians not allowed.”
If they don’t see the problem, inquire about their reasoning. Engaging in a mutual reflection process often yields more meaningful insights than simply being told what to think. Conversely, if you find the ad justifiable, express your view and seek out a non-Chinese person’s perspective, being open to their response.
As my colleague Grace noted, we must accept that we will misstep. We will make mistakes and be corrected. This process may not always be comfortable, but stumbling is an essential part of learning to improve.
Fear is not a valid reason for inaction. We have no excuse for remaining silent. We are no longer in school, and we cannot look down at our books when asked a question, hoping someone else will provide the answer. We must not let fear of failure or criticism prevent us from doing what is right.
As Ruby wisely stated, “If I’m wrong because I didn’t understand enough about the issue or was ignorant of a group’s needs, then that becomes a learning experience for me. When you genuinely care about something, it becomes easier to ignore your discomfort.”
In the grand scheme of things, for majority groups, any discomfort or criticism we face while learning pales in comparison to the oppression others endure. If that isn’t sufficient motivation, consider this: constructive criticism—the only type worth heeding—is never personal.
“People might worry about being shamed for ignorance, but I get shamed for who I am,” Visakan emphasizes.
“Perhaps the real question is, how can individuals learn to overcome their fear of shame? I believe the answer lies in recognizing the bigger picture: it’s not about any one of us.”
