Dear Racist Teacher
By: Philip Kim
Tags: Education, Stopasianhate, Asian American, Letters, Racism

Dear Racist Teacher,

Being a part of the program you led, Student Government Association, was one of the best and worst experiences of my life. There are so many memories I made and lived experiences I have that I would not trade for anything in this world.

My student government campaign poster in high school

SGA helped shape the values that I have today. Without your awareness, you taught me about racism, white privilege, being the token Asian guy, and, ultimately, you helped me accept the fact that I will never be a white person. So, in a weird way, I sincerely thank you for being the biggest asshole I have ever met.

Our every interaction reinforced my conviction that you are a man not worthy of my respect; it’s crucial to me that you know this. This was your schtick: use tough love, teasing, and inappropriate jokes to build shallow bonds with students that seem deep, so everyone excuses your problematic behavior because, at the end of the day, “he has a good heart.”

I did not buy into that narrative. Every day, your hypocrisy, regular tantrums, and refusal to equally treat people with decency and kindness filled me with rage. I am still angry now.

Trust me, I completely understand if the feeling is mutual. Every day in your class, I would make it my life’s mission to piss you off and to be the most useless elected high school student government official possible. Thinking back, this was my pathetically ineffective way of rebelling against you. The worst part for you is that no matter how hard you tried to get rid of me, the student body kept voting for me every single year until I graduated.

Maybe it was this hatred you had for me that resulted in your open racism towards me, or maybe, as a white person in a position of power, you knew that racism towards certain minority groups would not only go unpunished but would elevate your status in the opinion of those that mattered to you.

I have never felt so dehumanized as when you mocked me in a thick generic Asian accent and said ”Ohhhh Pheeeeerup, do you want to eat some flied lice?” (“Oh Philip, do you want to eat some fried rice?”). I was the only East Asian student in a classroom filled with white kids, and you thought this was a good idea. You found it funny to mock the way my parents and community members speak. You flattened an entire demographic into a stereotype to get some laughs. Did you realize that by being racist in front of the entire class, you gave my classmates permission to also be racist?

Me as a teen

I have trouble letting all of this go because I imagine you continuing to live your life blissfully ignorant, while I’m stuck replaying that memory over and over in my head, wishing I could go back in time to defend myself, my people, and my culture.

I live in constant regret of immediately forgiving you when you insincerely apologized to me in private; a manipulative apology that was intended to appease your guilt. I also regret my cowardice all these years, never confronting you and holding you accountable for your actions.

The powerful thing about stories is that I get to tell my story, and it means just as much as yours. When I was in your program, you crafted the main narrative, but this is my perspective on what happened.

I still remember you making a fried chicken and watermelon joke to our black students.

I still remember you asking me if I needed a microscope in order to find my dick when I asked to go use the bathroom.

I remember you not as endearing or charming or funny. I know you were trying to be all those things, but you never were. It was just pitiful. Just like you and the life you’ve lived.

I’ll never forget these memories I have of you. I hope as you read this letter, you start feeling regret for your actions, like I have always felt. You can hide behind all your awards, accolades, accomplishments, and performative philanthropic actions, but even that won’t be able to erase your past. Although I am a strong believer that people can learn, change, and make amends, for the time I’ve known you — you never did any of those things.

You were a teacher who not only wasted an opportunity to use your intelligence to counter mainstream narratives of race, but used your power to perpetuate racism. You only ever unintentionally taught me important life lessons. In a roundabout way, these experiences led me to work on Make Noise Today, a program that builds empathy and equity through storytelling. I know now that it’s possible for educators to provide a space for racism to be unpacked and resisted. There are countless students out there still going through what I went through and I needed to do something about that.

Writing this letter is personally therapeutic, but I know widespread change happens when many young people across the country are empowered to tell their own stories, resisting racism when it happens to them, and envisioning possibilities that are counter to the mainstream narrative of white supremacy. The narrative that you tried to reproduce in your classroom.

Who I am now, and the work I’m doing, shows that you failed.

Thank you for your failure,

Philip Sungmin Kim