The Virginia Tech Murders and Its Implications
I originally wrote the letter below to a group of Asian American activists urging change. Now I share it with you my friends.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
As I grieve and reflect about the tragic events at Virginia Tech, I wanted to share some thoughts.
It is my hope that our community leaders go further than seeking superficial answers to this tragedy. Clearly, it not only raises the issue of gun control, but also illustrates what happens when necessary mental health interventions fail to happen. Based on what I have read in the press, it is very likely that Seung-hui Cho suffered from mental illness without receiving the proper care and attention he very desperately needed. There were many socio-cultural factors in motion that aided and abetted these failures, beginning with the collective denial and shame surrounding the issue of mental illness in Asian American communities.
Unfortunately, as a Korean-American, I know all too well what some Korean Americans with mental illness have to go through. My step grandfather suffered from paranoid schizophrenia for decades before his death in 2001. My sister and I were the only family members who sought to help him as he became helpless and deteriorated both physically and mentally. Most of his other family members wanted nothing to do with him. His own brother who coincidentally lived in the same town, Centreville, VA, as Seung-hui Cho, ruthlessly abandoned him. I can only speculate what Seung-hui with his emotional difficulties might have gone through in that Korean community.
The stigma of mental illness in traditional Korean society brands all the members of the family in the eyes of the community. "Chae-myun," which loosely translates into family honor or pride, is to be maintained at all costs. In certain situations, it is more honorable to commit suicide than to expose something shameful about their family. It is an unspoken code of honor, steeped in Confucian morality. Though some Korean families have become more Americanized living in the states, some families, I have heard, hide their kin with mental illness and even denying their existence. Several studies report that Asian Americans exhibit more severe disturbances compared to non-Asians, suggesting that they are more likely to endure psychiatric distress for a long time, only coming to the attention of the mental health system at the point of acute breakdown and crisis.
And unfortunately, because of the violent nature of Seung-hui's acts, this tragedy reinforces the stigma and negative stereotypes of people with mental illnesses. The fact remains that the vast majority of people with mental illnesses are not violent and this case is, indeed, an isolated one. 48%, nearly half the American population, will experience a mental health issue during their lifetime. 1 out of every 4 Americans experiences a mental health issue during any given year. Most experience anxiety and depressive disorders, and are for the most part pretty harmless. The most aberrant and violent cases receive the most media coverage and, regrettably, are the cases that leave the deepest impression.
In our communities, leaders do not want to talk about this issue because it makes people feel uncomfortable. In order to instigate the dialogue about this taboo subject, I have been working on a film about mental illness in the Asian American communities for 2 years. When I bring up the subject, some people visibly become ill at ease, and change the subject. No matter how evident the signs of mental health issues are, it seems that certain people rather sweep the elephant under the rug and pretend that it doesn't exist. I hope that community leaders will address this issue now that the herd of elephants has stampeded out from under the rug and the model minority cover has been blown. I hope that there is something the Asian American community can take away from this horrific event that will forever be etched into the American consciousness. The time to break the silence is long overdue. We lost the beautiful and beloved Iris Chang to suicide because of this silence. And unfortunately, she is one of many Asian American women who take their lives every year.
There have been many mental health tragedies in the Asian American community; none with the exception of Iris Chang's suicide that have received the barrage of mass publicity that this massacre has. Why? Because most of these people weren't harmful to others, only to themselves. Elizabeth Shin, Anna Guo, my step grandfather, Hyon Joon Shin, and many, many college suicides, most recently at Stanford, to name a few. Elizabeth Shin who had a history of psychiatric problems died by fire under ambiguous circumstances in a MIT dormitory. 14-year-old Anna Guo was shot 3 times by the Ventura County police while she was attempting to commit suicide. (As strange and contradictory as that sounds, it is true) My step grandfather who was limited-English proficient died because his caretakers failed to understand he needed emergency help in part due to the language barrier. Sometimes I wish Asian American mental health had an advocate like Al Sharpton who would incite the crowds for the cause, fearlessly wreak havoc every time an mental health tragedy occurred and point fingers at all the potentially guilty parties, whether it's the government, the culture, the neighborhood or the family, leaving no stone unturned. We need someone to be vocal, even if obnoxiously and impetuously, as long as he or she didn't remain silent. You heard it first in the AIDS campaigns, but it also applies here: silence equals death. Whether you are an activist or an apathetic, a parent or child, an Asian or Caucasian, young or old, healthy or ill, as long as you are just another breathing, living human being, don't be complicit in the conspiracy of silence. Please talk about the huge elephants under the rug and don't look the other way. And conspire to create hope.
There are many things that could be done at a policy level. Two of the largest mental health advocacy organizations are headquartered in Arlington, VA, not too far from where Seung-hui Cho grew up. They incidentally do not offer many programs geared toward people of color. Though we live in a multi-cultural society, most establishment mental health organizations are Euro-American-centric even when the social need exists among other ethnic groups. Even though Asian American women 15-24 have the second highest suicide rate in the nation (Native American women have the highest) and Asian American women over 65 have 10 times the risk of suicide as their white counterparts, the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is ninety-something percent white in their staff and the support programs that they offer. The model minority myth has worked against Asian Americans in nearly every arena of mental health. The facts tell a different story from the overall perception that we have few, if any, problems.
Based on Seung-hui Cho’s creative writing samples exposed in the press, I think he may have been a victim of some heinous abuse. This is purely speculative, but a valid hypothesis based on the scant facts presented in his case. In both his plays, the protagonists are sexually abused by a figure of authority and want to kill their abuser in a macabre manner. This kind of intense rage is consistent with that which I have seen among sexual abuse survivors. Mr. Cho, if in fact was abused, probably never dealt with what had happened to him. When victims go without expressing their grief and pain over the abuse they suffered, they will most inevitably become perpetrators.
Had Seung-hui sought counseling or psychiatric help, he probably would not have received help from a therapist with whom he could have forged genuine trust. Most therapists in this country are trained in Western psychology, which is based on individualism and existentialistic theories, with little meaningful exposure to Asian American cultures. With that kind of academic background and clinical training with primarily Euro-American patients, most therapists are ill-equipped to understand Confucian culture and the emotional experience of walking the fine line between 2 very different cultures which is what most Korean Americans have to do. Often times, when there is a cross-cultural relationship in therapy, the patient who is from the minority culture actually has to adapt to the therapist's culture if it is the more dominant one of the society they live in. Most mental health graduate programs offer little, if any kind of training, in culturally competency. To further exacerbate the issue, there is a grave shortage of bi-cultural, bilingual mental health professionals that some Asian American mental health organizations have resorted to training bilingual paraprofessionals. Even though we model minority Asian Americans are entering med schools in droves and comprise 25% of the medical doctors in this country, proportionally fewer Asian Americans are entering psychiatry than other medical specialties because the stigma of mental illness. And the fact that a clinican is Asian American does not make him or her culturally competent to work with Asian Americans. Because of their Western-biased academic and clinical training, they are often taught to treat Euro-American patients. Furthermore, some Asian Americans have internalized the racism they have experienced in larger society and, consequently, will oppress other Asian Americans who don't conform to Euro-American cultural norms. For example, if they grew up among peers who taunted them for not speaking English or eating "weird" foods like kimchee without properly working through those traumas, they may insist that other immigrant Asian Americans speak English and eat Euro-American foods. The lack of culturally competent care has consequences not only for Asian Americans, but for all of society.
As far as Cho is concerned, there remains many unanswered questions. And any analysis on my part and the pundits of this very complex case is pure speculation. That fact doesn’t seem to deter the experts who never met Cho from diagnosing him posthumously. They say he was a sociopath; another expert says he was probably a paranoid schizophrenic, like my step grandfather. If in fact he suffered from paranoid delusions like my step grandfather, he surely must have been a tormented soul because this disease grips the mind like vise and doesn’t let go. But unlike Cho, my step grandfather, Hyon Joon Shin left this world namelessly without harming a soul. Most of his days living in the Bellamy Home for Adults in Richmond, VA were spent being scared, sitting, sometimes pacing, quietly being suspicious of people around him. He was more like a 5-year-old who needed to be comforted constantly, than the 63-year-old man that he was. Dosages of Haldol diminished, but did not eradicate, his delusional beliefs that the CIA was chasing him and that the tap water was poisonous. He restlessly lived in this delusional world nearly all of his waking hours until one warm Spring morning, when he was found dead in his sleep. The night before I had urged the administrator of the home to take my grandfather to the hospital because he had told me that he couldn't breathe. Mr. Bellamy responded to me in disbelief and told me that my grandfather appeared fine. Though I was saddened by his death and troubled life, I hoped that he finally found the peace he so deserved.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
As I grieve and reflect about the tragic events at Virginia Tech, I wanted to share some thoughts.
It is my hope that our community leaders go further than seeking superficial answers to this tragedy. Clearly, it not only raises the issue of gun control, but also illustrates what happens when necessary mental health interventions fail to happen. Based on what I have read in the press, it is very likely that Seung-hui Cho suffered from mental illness without receiving the proper care and attention he very desperately needed. There were many socio-cultural factors in motion that aided and abetted these failures, beginning with the collective denial and shame surrounding the issue of mental illness in Asian American communities.
Unfortunately, as a Korean-American, I know all too well what some Korean Americans with mental illness have to go through. My step grandfather suffered from paranoid schizophrenia for decades before his death in 2001. My sister and I were the only family members who sought to help him as he became helpless and deteriorated both physically and mentally. Most of his other family members wanted nothing to do with him. His own brother who coincidentally lived in the same town, Centreville, VA, as Seung-hui Cho, ruthlessly abandoned him. I can only speculate what Seung-hui with his emotional difficulties might have gone through in that Korean community.
The stigma of mental illness in traditional Korean society brands all the members of the family in the eyes of the community. "Chae-myun," which loosely translates into family honor or pride, is to be maintained at all costs. In certain situations, it is more honorable to commit suicide than to expose something shameful about their family. It is an unspoken code of honor, steeped in Confucian morality. Though some Korean families have become more Americanized living in the states, some families, I have heard, hide their kin with mental illness and even denying their existence. Several studies report that Asian Americans exhibit more severe disturbances compared to non-Asians, suggesting that they are more likely to endure psychiatric distress for a long time, only coming to the attention of the mental health system at the point of acute breakdown and crisis.
And unfortunately, because of the violent nature of Seung-hui's acts, this tragedy reinforces the stigma and negative stereotypes of people with mental illnesses. The fact remains that the vast majority of people with mental illnesses are not violent and this case is, indeed, an isolated one. 48%, nearly half the American population, will experience a mental health issue during their lifetime. 1 out of every 4 Americans experiences a mental health issue during any given year. Most experience anxiety and depressive disorders, and are for the most part pretty harmless. The most aberrant and violent cases receive the most media coverage and, regrettably, are the cases that leave the deepest impression.
In our communities, leaders do not want to talk about this issue because it makes people feel uncomfortable. In order to instigate the dialogue about this taboo subject, I have been working on a film about mental illness in the Asian American communities for 2 years. When I bring up the subject, some people visibly become ill at ease, and change the subject. No matter how evident the signs of mental health issues are, it seems that certain people rather sweep the elephant under the rug and pretend that it doesn't exist. I hope that community leaders will address this issue now that the herd of elephants has stampeded out from under the rug and the model minority cover has been blown. I hope that there is something the Asian American community can take away from this horrific event that will forever be etched into the American consciousness. The time to break the silence is long overdue. We lost the beautiful and beloved Iris Chang to suicide because of this silence. And unfortunately, she is one of many Asian American women who take their lives every year.
There have been many mental health tragedies in the Asian American community; none with the exception of Iris Chang's suicide that have received the barrage of mass publicity that this massacre has. Why? Because most of these people weren't harmful to others, only to themselves. Elizabeth Shin, Anna Guo, my step grandfather, Hyon Joon Shin, and many, many college suicides, most recently at Stanford, to name a few. Elizabeth Shin who had a history of psychiatric problems died by fire under ambiguous circumstances in a MIT dormitory. 14-year-old Anna Guo was shot 3 times by the Ventura County police while she was attempting to commit suicide. (As strange and contradictory as that sounds, it is true) My step grandfather who was limited-English proficient died because his caretakers failed to understand he needed emergency help in part due to the language barrier. Sometimes I wish Asian American mental health had an advocate like Al Sharpton who would incite the crowds for the cause, fearlessly wreak havoc every time an mental health tragedy occurred and point fingers at all the potentially guilty parties, whether it's the government, the culture, the neighborhood or the family, leaving no stone unturned. We need someone to be vocal, even if obnoxiously and impetuously, as long as he or she didn't remain silent. You heard it first in the AIDS campaigns, but it also applies here: silence equals death. Whether you are an activist or an apathetic, a parent or child, an Asian or Caucasian, young or old, healthy or ill, as long as you are just another breathing, living human being, don't be complicit in the conspiracy of silence. Please talk about the huge elephants under the rug and don't look the other way. And conspire to create hope.
There are many things that could be done at a policy level. Two of the largest mental health advocacy organizations are headquartered in Arlington, VA, not too far from where Seung-hui Cho grew up. They incidentally do not offer many programs geared toward people of color. Though we live in a multi-cultural society, most establishment mental health organizations are Euro-American-centric even when the social need exists among other ethnic groups. Even though Asian American women 15-24 have the second highest suicide rate in the nation (Native American women have the highest) and Asian American women over 65 have 10 times the risk of suicide as their white counterparts, the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is ninety-something percent white in their staff and the support programs that they offer. The model minority myth has worked against Asian Americans in nearly every arena of mental health. The facts tell a different story from the overall perception that we have few, if any, problems.
Based on Seung-hui Cho’s creative writing samples exposed in the press, I think he may have been a victim of some heinous abuse. This is purely speculative, but a valid hypothesis based on the scant facts presented in his case. In both his plays, the protagonists are sexually abused by a figure of authority and want to kill their abuser in a macabre manner. This kind of intense rage is consistent with that which I have seen among sexual abuse survivors. Mr. Cho, if in fact was abused, probably never dealt with what had happened to him. When victims go without expressing their grief and pain over the abuse they suffered, they will most inevitably become perpetrators.
Had Seung-hui sought counseling or psychiatric help, he probably would not have received help from a therapist with whom he could have forged genuine trust. Most therapists in this country are trained in Western psychology, which is based on individualism and existentialistic theories, with little meaningful exposure to Asian American cultures. With that kind of academic background and clinical training with primarily Euro-American patients, most therapists are ill-equipped to understand Confucian culture and the emotional experience of walking the fine line between 2 very different cultures which is what most Korean Americans have to do. Often times, when there is a cross-cultural relationship in therapy, the patient who is from the minority culture actually has to adapt to the therapist's culture if it is the more dominant one of the society they live in. Most mental health graduate programs offer little, if any kind of training, in culturally competency. To further exacerbate the issue, there is a grave shortage of bi-cultural, bilingual mental health professionals that some Asian American mental health organizations have resorted to training bilingual paraprofessionals. Even though we model minority Asian Americans are entering med schools in droves and comprise 25% of the medical doctors in this country, proportionally fewer Asian Americans are entering psychiatry than other medical specialties because the stigma of mental illness. And the fact that a clinican is Asian American does not make him or her culturally competent to work with Asian Americans. Because of their Western-biased academic and clinical training, they are often taught to treat Euro-American patients. Furthermore, some Asian Americans have internalized the racism they have experienced in larger society and, consequently, will oppress other Asian Americans who don't conform to Euro-American cultural norms. For example, if they grew up among peers who taunted them for not speaking English or eating "weird" foods like kimchee without properly working through those traumas, they may insist that other immigrant Asian Americans speak English and eat Euro-American foods. The lack of culturally competent care has consequences not only for Asian Americans, but for all of society.
As far as Cho is concerned, there remains many unanswered questions. And any analysis on my part and the pundits of this very complex case is pure speculation. That fact doesn’t seem to deter the experts who never met Cho from diagnosing him posthumously. They say he was a sociopath; another expert says he was probably a paranoid schizophrenic, like my step grandfather. If in fact he suffered from paranoid delusions like my step grandfather, he surely must have been a tormented soul because this disease grips the mind like vise and doesn’t let go. But unlike Cho, my step grandfather, Hyon Joon Shin left this world namelessly without harming a soul. Most of his days living in the Bellamy Home for Adults in Richmond, VA were spent being scared, sitting, sometimes pacing, quietly being suspicious of people around him. He was more like a 5-year-old who needed to be comforted constantly, than the 63-year-old man that he was. Dosages of Haldol diminished, but did not eradicate, his delusional beliefs that the CIA was chasing him and that the tap water was poisonous. He restlessly lived in this delusional world nearly all of his waking hours until one warm Spring morning, when he was found dead in his sleep. The night before I had urged the administrator of the home to take my grandfather to the hospital because he had told me that he couldn't breathe. Mr. Bellamy responded to me in disbelief and told me that my grandfather appeared fine. Though I was saddened by his death and troubled life, I hoped that he finally found the peace he so deserved.
posted by Pearl Ji-hyon Park at
1:05 AM
1 Comments:
I appriciate your point about the fact that second-culture therapy cannot be as effective as threpy offered from a person's original cultural perspective.
However. I don't feel Cho was mentally ill. I believe he was spiritually ill. Perhaps even demon-totured, or possesed.
That's my crazy idea to throw into the ring.
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