- Chinese restaurant numbers in the US, which have been falling for years, are dropping off a cliff due to fear, ignorance and racist associations with contagion, a product of the pandemic and even, perhaps, a sad reminder that old prejudices linger
I am a food fanatic " I love to eat and my close friends know that, as part of my dining ritual, I snap photos of the dishes and share them on my social networks. Food is not only a necessity and a platform for socialising, but also provides a deep connection to my personal history and cultural heritage.
And Chinese food remains my favourite as it reminds me of home. As a first-generation Chinese-American, food is a powerful link to the language, holidays and celebrations that I have worked hard to hold on to, knowing how fragile it can all be.
In recent weeks, I have watched in dismay, sadness and now anger, as Chinese food became a springboard for exorcism with the stereotypes and, at times, racism that has emerged with the Covid-19 crisis. Chinese restaurants in the United States " already steadily declining in number due to the lack of younger people who want to take over the business from their parents " have rapidly diminished due to the virus.
The closures " many likely to be permanent " have less to do with health risks and food safety than a perception that Chinese food is unsanitary and the cause of a virus that is now global. The perception has little basis and has been further stoked by US President Donald Trump, who has repeatedly referred to the coronavirus as the "Chinese virus".
Hurtful comments that come from fear and ignorance, or border on racism, have surfaced on social networks including food-centric Facebook groups. I have seen comments from educated and professional folk on everything from why anyone would request information on Chinese restaurants, considering what has happened, to how the Chinese government should better feed their people so they do not need to eat wild animals such as bats.
As a result, most Asian restaurants and markets are suffering. The irony is that Chinese restaurants and Asian food markets are known for reliably serving people of all races and ethnicities. The Chinese chain supermarkets that began opening in New York's upscale suburbs in recent years draw a robust Caucasian population attracted to the fresh foods and diversity of produce.
Chinese restaurants are the go-to for my Jewish and atheist friends on holidays when almost every other restaurant is closed. The Chinese friends I have are hardworking and have put their children through college and professional schools in the hope of giving them a better and brighter future. They are the classic immigrant story.
There is also the wrongful perception that Chinese food is dirty and unclean. Having worked, lived and spent substantial time in Hong Kong, and having travelled throughout Asia, I can attest that Chinese food is mostly fresh and healthy, often more so when compared to what is consumed here in the US. The diet is soy- and vegetable-based and there is a premium placed on freshness.
Looking back, though, food was a critical connection to what little culture and personal history my sister and I retained as first-generation Chinese Americans. My father, an immigrant from Hong Kong, cooked his way through college at a Chinese restaurant and even worked at the World's Fair in Canada.
When I was little, we spent every weekend in Manhattan's Chinatown where my father got his fix of Bruce Lee movies, and my mother her wonton soup. We packed the car boot with an assortment of Asian leafy greens, tofu, fish and crab, and handmade dumpling skins, and everything was fresh. The excursion to Chinatown was a reminder of home for my parents who were adjusting to a new world.
All this said, I cannot help but wonder if Chinese food has become a scapegoat for an already prevalent racism " after all, in hard times, everything rational is tossed out. There will come a day when the infection curve begins to flatten and folk begin to return to Chinatowns and their markets, and perhaps, their craving for Chinese food will return.
But this latest chapter is a stark reminder that many things that we thought had changed, sadly, remain the same.
Amy Wu is a writer who lives in Hudson Valley New York; she worked as a journalist and educator in Hong Kong from 1996-2001 and 2010-2013
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