Outdoor Reflections of a Post-COVID Asian
Leading a backpacking course on ancestral Ute Land
I sat on the side of a gravel road in southern Arizona leaning against my dog and my bike. We were both parched after pedaling uphill for the last few miles. In the distance, the peaks of the Patagonia Sky islands were visible. It was my first bikepacking trip since the pandemic started and I was stoked. I had delayed the trip for weeks due to my cycles of depression.
I made it.
A few deep inhalations and camera shutters later, I looked up to see a white truck blazing down the road. As a person of color, when you’re alone in a rural area and you see a truck, there is automatic fight or flight response.
Okay, Deep breaths, it will be fine. I told myself. You’re overreacting.
I smiled and waved at the driver. The truck came to screeching halt a few feet from where I was resting. “Oh great” I thought. The driver was a middle-aged white man wearing a brown cowboy hat. He rolled down his window and then spat his tobacco at me with enough force and vitriol to send me scrambling backwards. Afterwards, he drove off laughing, in a cloud of dust and seemingly without a care in the world.
I’ve been sitting on this post-COVID reflection for months and wasn’t sure how to finish but here I am. It’s been just two weeks since the March 16, 2021 Atlanta shootings where eight people were killed—six of whom were Asian women, four of whom shared my Korean heritage. My family lives a very short drive away from where these incidents occurred. This was PERSONAL.
Two months before the first COVID cases were documented in the U.S., a friend came to visit me in Colorado. We were riding the snow-covered slopes of Aspen shouting “bet we’re the only POC’s up in here!” The moment felt light-hearted.
My friend Ellis shredding on ancestral Ute Land.
Little did I know, my racial reckoning was rapidly approaching. Throughout my life, I’ve been placing cheap band-aids on the hate, fear and microaggressions I’ve experienced as a Korean American kid growing up in the U.S unsure of how to respond to the racism of my peers. That uncertainty followed me into my teenage years and now adulthood.
“China Virus”
“Chink”
“Get the fuck out of my country”
Pointing, cursing and never-ending microaggressions. All of the racist bullshit I’ve experienced throughout my life compressed in a matter of weeks and throughout the pandemic.
But who’s counting?
Who is listening?
Is the Asian American and Pacific Islander community (AAPI) being heard?
Or are we being silenced, as we’ve always been throughout U.S. History?
Acknowledge us and acknowledge this:
We are not monolithic
We are not your objects of desire
We are not a model minority
We are the global majority
We are resilient
All things considered, I wasn’t affected greatly during the pandemic. At its inception, I was living and working at a wealthy private boarding school in a small mountain town in Colorado. I had my doubts moving here, knowing full well that there were far fewer POC’s than I would have liked. Ultimately, I left the school because of the racism I experienced and because of the lack of diversity. Diversity, Equity and Inclusion work was not prioritized at the school. I doubt my experience is much different from other POC working in the outdoor and education industries.
While the COVID pandemic was rampant, I was scared, enraged and distraught but it also gave me perspective and fueled my rage. Rage for justice and peace for myself and my students. So, I did the only thing I know how to do when I’m angry. I was working on my Masters in Education, and began consuming as much content as I could on abolitionist teaching and history.
Before COVID, my norm was outdoor guiding and living out of my car but in Colorado, I was boxed in a new city, not knowing a soul, staring at a computer for 14+ hours. I felt separated from the things that kept me mentally and physically grounded. The blessings of sun and dirt were a distant memory—a distant privilege. Luckily, I was able to piece myself together with time off from school, a rescue dog, therapy and many bike rides.
So where am I in all of this? I’m still processing, learning, struggling and grieving. During a mountain bike ride with a white friend, I told him my plans of bikepacking the Great Divide Trail from Mexico to Canada this summer with my 17-year-old little brother. He asked me if there was anything that was keeping me from going. I said that I was hesitant about going on such a long trip because of the pandemic. Truth be told, I was hesitant to travel across the country as a Post-Covid Asian.
Back in 2015, I was preparing to embark on a two-year bike trip from Europe to Asia. It had taken me years to save up. The flights were booked and the gear had already been purchased. Then I canceled—weeks before departure—due to excuses and fear. Not going on that trip was one of the biggest regrets of my life. So I told myself that on my 30th, I would do an epic bike trip with my little brother no matter what my life circumstances were. Never would I have imagined that a global pandemic and its aftershocks would be one of our planning considerations.
My little brother and I backpacking on the Ancestral Quileute Coast.
Although there has been a huge spike in hate-fueled attacks against Asian Americans across the country, it will not stop me from pursuing my dreams and my joy.
I will be creating a documentary of our Great Divide bikepacking trip in the summer of 2021.
You can follow me and our future adventures on Instagram: @bikepak
If you’re a BIPOC in Tucson, let's connect!
How can you help the AAPI community?
1) Check up on your Asian friends. Invite them outside. Offer to help cook or deliver their favorite comfort foods. Remember they are in pain and show them that they aren’t invisible.
2) Consider making a donation to one of these AAPI organizations:
3) Recognize that AAPI history is U.S. history and do some reading!
4) Support local Asian businesses, creators and artists:
If you would like to donate to my little brother’s adventure joy fund, you can do so on Venmo: @eugene_pak or Paypal: @pake1.
5) For my fellow Asians seeking Asian therapists: https://www.asianmhc.org/apisaa
Rest in Beauty
Xiaojie Tan,
Daoyou Feng
Soon Chung Park
Hyun Jang Grant
Suncha Kim
Yong A. Yue
Paul Andre Michels
Delaina Ashely Yuan
Thank you, 감사합니다, 谢谢, ありがとう, ขอบคุณ, Cảm ơn, Terima kasih, ေက်းဇူးတန္ပါတယ္။, Salamat, धन्यवाद, tànvād, நன்றி , ధన్యవాదములు, आभारी आहे, shukriya, 多謝, 谢谢, 多謝, 多謝, shukraan, motshakeram, manana, Sipas dekem, ຂອບໃຈ, សូមអរគុណ, ཐུགས་རྗེ་ཆེ་, Рақмет, شكراً
You look up to see street signs in Chinese characters and a beautiful decorative arch. It’s time to do a quick Google Maps check or to text your friends to let them know you’ve arrived in Chinatown—one of the unique immigrant enclaves found in cities across the United States.