Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Rohan Zhou-Lee. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Rohan, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. It’s always helpful to hear about times when someone’s had to take a risk – how did they think through the decision, why did they take the risk, and what ended up happening. We’d love to hear about a risk you’ve taken.
In the lockdown of 2020, I went through anti-Blackness in Asian organizing (as well as some homophobia) as well as seeing how the invizibilization of Asians impacted me as a Black Asian in BLM spaces. I formed the Blasian March to not only combat all the isms, but also celebrate and bring visibility to Black Asians. We are the fastest growing Black mixed race community in New York City and yet we remain widely invisibile. After October 11, I realised that this work was still needed, so I launched our Instagram page, and wanted to keep using it as a platform for information and education.
Then the news about anti-Asian violence began. Some Asian femmes approached me and said they wanted to do a rally. Within two weeks, we put together with a coalition of Latina, Native, and Black women what would be the End The Violence Towards Asians: Let’s Unite Against White Nationalism on Feb 20, 2021. Blasian march contributed PR resources to spread the word like making a press release, collaborating with our Mexican collaborators to make social media content. That moment felt like a huge risk for me as an organizer. I didn’t think Asians would turn up for an Asian like me. I also would learn later that “coming out Asian” would result in getting a lot of anti-Asian hate from some local Black leadership. Regardless, that action drew a crowd of hundreds in person. In the digital realm, photos of attendees would go globally viral, including one of a friend who held up a sign that read “Love Our People Like U Love Our Food.” Of course, in a lot of mainstream media that team of women and I, a queer non-binary person, never got credit. Several news outlets even used photos of that action to call on Black solidarity, even though Black people were speakers, medics, safety marshals, and key organizers. We femmes probably never will. That’s what comes with living in a patriarchal imperial society built on enslavement, genocide and erasure.
These two moments in a time when protesting was dangerous (and is again,) especially for Black people, now West Asian people, were monumental. They changed my life. My dancing now has to be rooted in what I firmly believe in. I’ve become a public speaker, journalist, and DEI consultant, all because of my ongoing community organizing. In 2022 I was flown to Zürich, Switzerland, where I performed my poetry in solidarity with the police killing of Nzoy, a South African Swiss man who died while experiencing a mental health crisis, danced my own choreography about the police killings of Asian Americans, gave my first lecture on solidarity building (which today has become one of my most popular workshops, Merging Movements), and even spoke on a panel with one of the Black members of parliament. I gave that lecture again at the University of Tokyo last summer.
I’m proud that I never stopped from what I learned in 2020-2021, and that’s to be the commander of your narrative and never let go of who you truly are.
As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?
I am a Black Asian community organizer based in New York City and the founder of the Blasian March, a Black-Asian-Blasian solidarity initiative rooted in education and celebration. It now has chapters in New Haven, Chicago, Los Angeles, Sacramento, and more on the way.
My writing, which initially was only fantasy novels, shifted in 2021 when Nico Lang, then at them magazine, commissioned me to write my essay “Why Abolition Is Essential for Black-Asian Solidarity” during AAPI History Month. That launched my career as a journalist, and since them I’ve written for Truthout, Prism Reports, Reckon News, Newsweek, and others. In 2023 I became a Open City fellow at the Asian American Writers’ Workshop for journalism.
My activism and writing have fueled my public speaking. I speak on and facilitate workshops, topics ranging from solidarity building to LGBT rights, anti-Asian policy history, Black-Asian solidarity history, and more. I am also now a DEI consultant, even in the twilight of the field, with a focus on education.
Honestly, the proudest moments I’ve had are when I see an action and people are doing the work without me. In Los Angeles, I burned out while moving the rally, and the community took over the chants. In Chicago, I had to switch to safety to block traffic and fell to the back of the protest; even in the back, the community took it up and kept on chanting in solidarity. In New York, I organize the annual Blasian Pride. At last year’s rally, which was climate justice-themed, a queer/trans Korean drumming ensemble danced in a circle around Afro- and Indo-Caribbean trans people. I cried, and I realized that people are hungry to build community but they often can’t because white supremacy has taught us things like segregation and auto-segregation. They just needed to give themselves permission. My part in these moments were so small, and these results were so meaningful.
I want to feel that with all my public speaking, consulting, and journalism, for people to give themselves permission to abolish the barriers in their minds created by colonization. I want people to give themselves permission to love.
What can society do to ensure an environment that’s helpful to artists and creatives?
Until money is abolished, fund the arts. Artists are, whether we like it or not, a moral compass of society. It is why when dictatorships or extremist governments take over that educators, journalists, and artists are the first to go, be controlled, defunded, or persecuted. Any way to allow us to speak truth to society is incredibly important for its betterment.
Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?
I am not a machine, like capitalist society has taught me to be. The leader must know when to step back and follow, or even step away from the work entirely.
In 2022, I helped with the Blasian March Los Angeles and barely two weeks later I was running the Blasian Pride in New York. I didn’t realize how burnt out I was until I unintentionally gaslit the LA Chapter lead. We had an honest conversation about it, and after hearing their side realized my errors. My initial inability to apologize, I realized later, was deeply rooted in the capitalist society that demands that produce only perfect products with my imperfect being. I also concluded that that pressure to be perfect is also unfairly imposed on people of color, especially Black women, other femmes, trans and Disabled folk. Any deviation from perfection means that we are unworthy of the work. It took me a while to understand that I was working while burnt out, and so I was operating without processing, a burnout trap I see a lot of activists fall into when they’re constantly on the ground.
I am worthy. I am always worthy. I have always been worthy. But sometimes, I need to step back, reflect on my mistakes, see what can be done better, more efficiently, and remember that I am always held, even if I don’t see it.
Contact Info:
- Website: www.diaryofafirebird.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/diaryofafirebird/
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/rohan-zhou-lee-11745027
- Twitter: https://twitter.com/DiaryOfAFirebrd
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@blasianmarch2146
- Other: www.blasianmarch.org
Image Credits
Stas Ginzburg Erica Lansner Steven Herzog Cindy Trinh