The Fight Against Invisibility

By Amy Yee ’96
Illustrations by Nicole Xu
Fall 2021

A memory from the start of the COVID-19 pandemic remains indelible. It was early March 2020, and schools and businesses were yet to close down. But already a gnawing sense of foreboding loomed, apart from the virus itself.

My fears were confirmed by a LinkedIn post from an Asian American friend. He was in Central Square in Cambridge, Mass., when a man menaced him on the street, blamed him for the virus, and continued threatening him even when police arrived on the scene.

I was already worried about the potential impact on Asians in the U.S. who might be irrationally targeted because the virus had originated in China. Thousands of innocent people in China itself would be sickened by COVID-19 or die, but those tragic facts could be overshadowed by ignorance, anger, fear, and knee-jerk racism.

I was especially concerned because my mother, an immigrant in her 70s born in Hong Kong, takes the T to work in Boston’s Chinatown every day. She has continued to do so throughout the pandemic.


Ways to boost Ga.’s vaccination rate

 
Georgia, like much of the country, is in the midst of a cresting “fourth wave” of the COVID-19 pandemic, and finds itself among the states seeing the highest jump in hospitalizations over the last two weeks.

With only four in ten Georgians fully vaccinated against the virus, and a new school year upon us as the delta variant continues its relentless blitz through our population, there has never been more urgency to protect our communities from further illness, injury, and death by taking bold moves to help more of our population get vaccinated.

Yet in a press conference last month, Gov. Brian Kemp, while acknowledging the importance of statewide vaccination, seemed to have all but given up on any further efforts to reach the eligible Georgians who remain unprotected.

Opinion: How to investigate the lab-leak theory without inflaming anti-Asian hate

A woman holds a sign supporting an end to hate directed at Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders (AAPI), as seen at the Logan Square Monument in Chicago on March 20. (Nam Y. Huh/AP)

By Leana S. Wen
June 1, 2021 at 4:05 p.m. EDT

The lab-leak hypothesis has emerged as one of two leading theories for how covid-19 began. As a physician, I believe it’s crucial to understand the origin of the pandemic and prevent future ones. As a Chinese American, I worry that unproven speculation could increase racist attacks against Chinese people and further fuel anti-Asian hate.

This is not a hypothetical concern. Since the beginning of the pandemic, people of Asian descent have been blamed for coronavirus, and harassed and assaulted as a result. In Texas, a man allegedly stabbed three members of an Asian American family, including children ages 2 and 6, because they were “Chinese and infecting people with the coronavirus.” A medical student was assaulted near her hospital in New York City, with the perpetrator shouting “Chinese virus.” In Boston, a doctor taking care of covid-19 patients was followed as she left the hospital by someone who shouted profanities and asked her why the Chinese were killing people. According to the nonprofit Stop AAPI Hate, more than 6,600 anti-Asian American and Pacific Islander incidents have been reported between March 2020 and March 2021.

President Donald Trump fanned the flames with his repeated use of “China virus,” “Chinese plague” and “kung flu.” He and his allies claimed the virus was “sent over from China.” Research has found that the proliferation of these terms over social media directly led to a rise in racist posts against Asian people. It’s not hard to imagine that increased rhetoric about careless or even reckless Chinese scientists could provoke more acts of harm against AAPI communities.

 


Universal pre-K is not government overreach or massive subsidy

 

In a guest column, state Sen. Michelle Au, D-Johns Creek, applauds the push by President Joe Biden for universial pre-K.

In his first formal address to Congress five days ago, Biden said, “The great universities in this country have conducted studies over the last 10 years. It shows that adding two years of universal, high-quality preschool for every 3-year-old and 4-year-old, no matter what background they come from, puts them in the position of being able to compete all the way through 12 years and increases exponentially their prospect of graduating and going on beyond graduation.”

Investments in early childhood programs not only improve outcomes for the children who participate but for Georgia and the nation as a whole, says Au.

By Dr. Michelle Au

Perhaps the most surprising thing about President Biden’s call for universal pre-K in his American Families Plan is that anyone is surprised at all. Universal pre-K — that is to say, broad access to quality preschool education — is the norm in most wealthy nations.


Op-Ed: Fight the gun violence epidemic like we fight cancer — one small step at a time

Women at a March 27 candlelight vigil in Monterey Park pay their respects to the eight victims of the spa shootings in Georgia.
(Damian Dovarganes / Associated Press)
By Michelle Au
APRIL 14, 2021 11:14 AM PT
Georgia, like much of the country, is in the midst of a cresting “fourth wave” of the COVID-19 pandemic, and finds itself among the states seeing the highest jump in hospitalizations over the last two weeks.

With only four in ten Georgians fully vaccinated against the virus, and a new school year upon us as the delta variant continues its relentless blitz through our population, there has never been more urgency to protect our communities from further illness, injury, and death by taking bold moves to help more of our population get vaccinated.

Yet in a press conference last month, Gov. Brian Kemp, while acknowledging the importance of statewide vaccination, seemed to have all but given up on any further efforts to reach the eligible Georgians who remain unprotected.

Opinion: Georgia Republicans were quiet about their attack on voting rights, but, oh, did they laugh

People wait in line for early voting at the Bell Auditorium in Augusta, Ga., on Oct. 12.
(Michael Holahan/The Augusta Chronicle via AP)

By Michelle Au
March 27, 2021 at 11:06 a.m. EDT

Michelle Au, a Democrat, is a Georgia state senator.

What struck me the most was the noise coming from all the wrong places.

Thursday afternoon, I sat in the chamber of the Georgia State Senate and watched as my colleagues, one after another, went up to the well to speak out against Senate Bill 202, a true Frankenstein’s monster of voter-suppression measures. It was clearly designed to ensure that a record Democratic turnout like the one in November — and in the state’s U.S. Senate runoffs in January — never happens again.

This hastily sewn-together bill is a broad attack on voting rights. It includes imposing limits on the use of mobile polling places and drop boxes; raising voter identification requirements for casting absentee ballots; barring state officials from mailing unsolicited absentee ballots to voters; and preventing voter mobilization groups from sending absentee ballot applications to voters or returning their completed applications. The list goes on.

 

The Thing with Feathers

By Michelle Au ’99
Endnote, Spring 2020

Last spring my family found a bird’s nest in our garage. We noticed it by chance, high on a shelf 10 feet up, a packed swirl of twigs and pine straw about the size and shape of a catcher’s mitt. One of my kids had broken a window in our garage months before (to this day, both the projectile and culprit remain at large) and it must have been through this breach that the bird gained access. It was unclear how long the nest had been there—for all I knew, it could have been months and I’d just never noticed it. We have a way of walking right past things we don’t expect to see.

Though she was rarely sighted, we were further surprised one day to find our mysterious tenant had delivered a clutch of five Instagram-worthy speckled eggs. We cooed and marveled over this development, but when nothing happened after a few weeks, we figured the eggs had either been abandoned, or else were duds.

YOUR SMARTWATCH

High-tech Health Tracker or Talisman?

By Michelle Au and Andrew Bomback 
Spring 2019

Think of the stereotypical representations of medicine, as they might appear on a television show: the crisp white coat, of course, and the stethoscope dangling at the ready. Syringes and intravenous lines, maybe. An X-ray or a CT scan slammed theatrically into a light box.

But any medical scene is incomplete without an electrocardiogram (EKG) machine running in the background, its jagged line tracing across the screen.

The EKG is the backbeat of many hospital scenes on television. Important medical things are happening here, it says.

The wearable EKG offers the comforting weight of medicine itself, worn on the wrist like an amulet warding off evil.

To tap into that potent association, many private medical practices, urgent-care clinics, community hospitals, technology companies, and health care-product designers use EKG imagery in their advertising.

Most of those images bear little resemblance to actual EKG tracings. The spikes and bumps generated for signs or emblems (like the logo of the daytime talk show The Doctors, for example) mostly amount to arbitrary peaks and valleys. They do not reflect the output of a human heart, healthy or diseased.

MEDICAL EXAMINER:
There’s a Proven Public Health Strategy We Could Use to Encourage Vaccination

As we learned with smoking, showing people visceral possible health outcomes effectively scares them into behaving differently.

By Michelle Au 
March 8, 2019 8:00am EST

In 2012, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention launched “Tips From Former Smokers,” its first-ever paid national anti-tobacco campaign. “Tips” featured real people suffering real medical conditions resulting from their exposure to tobacco smoke. The campaign gave them a direct platform to share their experiences, which the CDC thought would encourage current smokers to quit and dissuade future smokers from ever starting.

What distinguished this public health campaign was its visceral intimacy. In one poster, a former smoker named Shawn is posed with a lathered face, facing the camera as if it were a mirror while shaving his neck with a safety razor. The gaping orifice of his stoma—the breathing hole in his trachea surgically created after his larynx was removed—gapes at the viewer, the rim ragged with radiation scarring, a glistening red plane of muscle clearly visible under the skin. “BE CAREFUL NOT TO CUT YOUR STOMA,” the bold print reads.

SMARTWATCHES ARE CHANGING
THE PURPOSE OF THE EKG

Wearables help cast the medical test as a talisman
of health-care competence. An Object Lesson.

By Andrew Bomback and Michelle Au 
February 22, 2019 11:30am ET

Think of the stereotypical representations of medicine, as they might appear on a television show: the crisp white coat, of course, and the stethoscope dangling at the ready. Syringes and intravenous lines, maybe. An X-ray or a CT scan slammed theatrically into a light box.

But any medical scene is incomplete without an electrocardiogram (EKG) machine running in the background, its jagged line tracing across the screen reassuringly, or alarmingly to cue a dramatic threat. The EKG is the backbeat of many hospital scenes on television. Important medical things are happening here, it says.