My Mother Was a Victim of the Rise in Anti-Asian Crime—Here's What You Can Do To Help

“Mom’s been robbed.”

My sister told me this over the phone on Wednesday afternoon.

I had a million questions, but I asked only one: “Where is she?”

My mom and dad immigrated to the United States in 1979 as refugees. They arrived with a single suitcase after escaping Viet Nam and made their home in San Jose, California, which has the greatest number of Vietnamese residents in any one city outside of Viet Nam. Her day began like any other: She went to work at her manufacturing job in Silicon Valley, then set out to prepare for Lunar New Year. My mom has leaned into all of the holidays as an American by way of the Vietnamese diaspora, but Lunar New Year is her favorite. She went to her local bank to withdraw crisp new money for giving out in red envelopes (to wish recipients good luck and wealth for the year) and then made a last stop by her local Asian grocery to pick up all the holiday essentials.

Particular dishes are presented to our ancestor’s altars to pray for their support during the new year, and we get to devour these afterward. Bánh tét—a savory dish consisting of glutinous rice and a mung bean or mung-bean-and-pork filling rolled in a banana leaf to form a thick, loglike cylindrical shape—demonstrates the importance of rice in the Vietnamese culture as well as its historical value. An elaborate fruit tray is also displayed with a specific selection that plays on words for an auspicious poem: soursop (mãng cầu), fig (sung), coconut (dừa), papaya (đu đủ), and mango (xoài). Put together, the names of these fruits form the phrase: “Cầu sung vừa (dừa) đủ xài (xoài),” or “[We] wish that the money in the new year will be enough for consumption and a fulfilled life.”

And so that day fruit was on my mother’s shopping list. She brought the shopping bags back to her car, and a dark car with tinted windows suddenly blocked her. In a flash, a man opened her passenger door, grabbed her purse, and disappeared. Her credit cards, ID, phone, checkbook, keys, and photos of her granddaughters were gone.

My sisters and I are grateful she was unharmed and what she lost can be replaced. We did what we could: We canceled credit cards, called the bank, made the DMV appointment, erased her phone data, and changed the locks on the house. But, of course, she lost more than just her purse in that moment; it’s much more difficult to replace her sense of security and trust.