Hyun Jung (Kim) Grant with her two sons

This past week, the Asian employee resource group at my workplace held a healing circle in memory of those killed in Atlanta two weeks ago. I was asked to provide a reflection. Here’s what I said.

I saw my name on the list of victims in the Atlanta spa murders.

In most newspapers, she’s listed as Hyun Jung Grant. But her maiden name, her Korean name, is Kim Hyun-Jung. The same as mine.

The names of the victims from Cherokee County were released soon after the tragedy, but the names of the four Atlanta victims were not disclosed for days, as officials scrambled to notify their next of kin. The Korean consulate in Atlanta confirmed, however, that they were all ethnic Korean women. Just like me.

Before the names were officially released, I learned about Kim Hyun-Jung from an article in The Daily Beast about her two sons. When I saw the accompanying photo of the boys’ smiling faces, their loving mother clutching proudly at their side, I saw myself.

Like my name-twin, I have two sons. Like her, my older son is 23. Like her, I’d do anything to support my family, protect them, provide a good life for them. It’s not lost on me how lucky I’ve been during the pandemic to be able to make a comfortable living working from home, safely sheltering in place. My name-twin was not so lucky. Although trained as an elementary school teacher in Korea, Kim Hyun-Jung worked long hours as a masseuse in the US. I’m pretty sure she did not have the option to telecommute.

In discussing the horrific murders, a friend of mine said to me: “And what about that woman who was just having a date night with her husband? Wow, that one was especially awful.” I was speechless. Why do we have to attach degrees of awfulness to mass murder? Why is the death of a masseuse less awful than that of the woman receiving the massage?

Of course, I know the reason for my friend’s comment. It’s not because she is a terrible person. It’s because she’s human. As humans, we tend to empathize with people, with stories, that we can relate to. My friend could relate to going out for a date night; she couldn’t relate to being a masseuse working in what many called the red-light district. What my friend didn’t realize is that her comment made me feel unseen.

We’re all just human. But being human is not an excuse. It’s actually the solution. The challenge for all of us is to get past our tendency to focus on our shared traits – or yes, even our shared names – and, instead, to focus on our shared humanity. Only then can we effect real change.

In our healing circle, we will discuss the things that have given us comfort and strength during these painful times. For me, it’s been the community of my fellow Asian-Americans and the support of our allies. We truly can’t do it alone.

Last year at this time, 26-year-old Breonna Taylor was killed in her sleep after working a long shift as an ER technician. As I think back to her death and so many others, I ask myself: did I do enough to support my African-American friends? Did I show up? Did I keep showing up? It’s not just one and done. It’s being there for one another day after day.

I am Kim Hyun-Jung. I am Soon Chung Park, Suncha Kim, Yong Ae Yue, Delaina Ashley Yaun, Paul Andre Michels, Xiaojie Tan, and Daoyou Feng. I am George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and countless others.

 And so are you.

Me with my two sons at Christmas