Every couple of months, I see the same group of Korean American men and women gathered in the Fulton County Courtroom in Atlanta, Georgia, where they watch as judge, prosecutors, and defense attorneys try the case of a shooting suspect accused of killing eight people in 2021.
When we get together, Korean Americans here in Atlanta don’t talk about what’s happening in the courtroom, about the complex legal theories — such as challenges to the constitutionality of the death penalty or a grand jury challenge. We also avoid discussion about the shooting suspect.
My guess is we prefer not to bring up tragic memories with each other.
Instead, we make small talk. We talk about which restaurants in Korea Town make the best cold noodles or which serves the best kimchi stew. When this trial is over, we suggest going out for some delicious Korean food.
We don’t have to ask each other’s names. We don’t need to introduce ourselves to each other. However, when we walk into the courtroom, the judge, prosecutors, and lawyers already know who we are and where we’re from. Because we are the only people in this courtroom, or in the entire courthouse, whose skin color is not white or black.
We don’t speak English very well, but our presence in the courtroom speaks volumes. We are watching this trial, and we are asking that important decisions about our safety and livelihood not be made without our presence.
‘Rediscovering’ Asian Americans in the Deep South
In 2021, eight people, including six Asian Americans, were shot and killed in Atlanta, Georgia. Elected officials and journalists from as far as New York and Washington, D.C came down and “rediscovered” Asian Americans in the Deep South, even though we have lived here for decades.
They talked about Asian Hate, gun control, and racism. Politicians promised to protect us and ensured more safety. Journalists from mainstream media promised a story. After a week or two, most of them left.
Korean Americans and Asian Americans in the Deep South now realize one thing. The only time we are “discovered” is when one of us is killed, or when election season comes around.
With Georgia now a battleground state in this current — and deeply divided — 2024 election season, politicians and the media have once again “rediscovered” Asian and Korean communities in Atlanta.
NBC News noted that “Asian American turnout in Georgia surged last election, playing a larger role than ever.” Politico called Korean Americans in Georgia a “Key Demographic.” CNN reported that Asian Americans in Georgia had become a “critical piece of Harris’ game plan.” NPR stated that Asian Americans in Georgia are now “a larger share of the electorate.”
The trust gap
Asian Americans in Georgia, meanwhile, are more bewildered than pleased.
It’s strange to see high-profile politicians campaigning in Atlanta’s Korea Town, shaking hands and asking for votes. We wonder, what have they done for us? How have they contributed to our lives?
Since the 2021 Atlanta Shooting, not much has changed in Georgia.
Media coverage of the shooter’s trial and memorial services for the victims has dwindled. And while executive orders on gun control came out of the White House, the Georgia legislature passed a permitless gun carry law just one year after the shooting.
Then, this past September, another mass shooting occurred at a high school here, killing two students and two teachers. The day after, my daughter’s high school announced it was installing metal detectors at the entrance.
Of course, there have been political breakthroughs, policies that have made an impact — even if on the edges — of one issue or another. But for the immigrant Asian American community, those impacts are often lost in translation, leaving a gulf that gets filled with hateful political rhetoric targeting immigrants, on the one hand, and concerns over the economy on the other.
The point is, neither side has established trust with us.
Asian American voters make their presence known
In the runup to election day, mainstream media has once again descended on our community, wanting to know which side Asian Americans in this battleground state will lean.
What they miss entirely is that we go to the polls for the same reason we go to the courthouse: to let those in charge know that decisions about our safety and livelihoods will not be made without our involvement.
“The first time I saw the judge in the courtroom, I was scared, but after seeing him over and over again, I got used to his face,” one Korean American man told me recently while leaving the courthouse. At a nearby polling station, another Korean woman remarked, “I don’t speak much English, and I was scared to vote for the first time in my life, but I got used to it.”
Baekkyu “Rodge” Kim is a familiar face. He is a constant presence at court, attending the shooter’s trial with clockwork regularity. On the eve of Election Day, he posted the following message to an online Korean chatroom. “Everyone, everyone, please get out and vote. Voting is our last resort to live in America.”
Korean Americans in Georgia are getting out and voting this election. Not for a specific party or for a candidate who only shows up during election season. We are voting to protect ourselves, to make sure we are not overlooked.
Jongwon Lee is a practicing lawyer and Korean media reporter covering Atlanta’s Korean community.
