Daoyou Feng, 44-year-old woman
Xiaojie Tan, 49-year-old woman
Hyun JungGrant, 51-year-old woman
Yong Ae Yue, 63-year-old woman
Sun Cha Kim, 69-year-old woman
Soon Chung Park, 74-year-old woman

I had to Google “Atlanta attack victims” to find these six of eight names. The syllables are also foreign to my American tongue. Ages and gender help me to form a picture of their forms, and the wrinkles on their skin. They shared their locale, the bond of womanhood, and that they were of Asian descent—like me. We have the same jet-black hair and almond eyes. We carry the genetic XX code, which produced the fairer and more delicate sex.

Our families journeyed, full of dreams, with hopes of a better life.

They went to work on a normal Tuesday and kissed loved ones goodbye, likely reminding them of homework and of homecooked meals in the fridge. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong color of skin. And a young, white man decided it was time for them to die. Racism took the form of bullets, and away they flew into bodies. Blood soaked shirts as hearts stopped beating, the light left their eyes, and they were gone. They left this earth. They left behind friends, neighbors, husbands, children and grandchildren. An incredible void and gaping wound was opened in those lives—and in this country.

The blame and hate has overheated in a time of great depression and fear. It has taken the form of scapegoating. Venomous talk has overflowed to beating fists, and now to bullets.

My heart has been numb and heavy. The future feels tenuous and fearful. I struggle to mourn, instead of pushing through my day. My protective instincts are now heightened. It is difficult to want to engage with conflict. I seek to walk through this with the broken body of Christ, but it is a hard and lonely place to be right now.

I long for justice and righteousness to shine, for the church to rise up and defend the weak. When will this happen, Lord? My heart aches with waiting. In this place, again, Jesus, turn my eyes to You. I grieve with You, Lord, at the murder of Your children, at the rise of racism and fear. Hold and protect us. Help us cling to You and be transformed by Your fierce love.

Amen and amen.

Aimee is an Asian American physician, recently married to the love of her life. She loves deep, honest conversation, being silly with her husband, and pondering God’s presence in this broken world. She is honored to contribute to Red Tent Living but requests anonymity in respect for her personal and professional privacy. b