By Joyce Shui
For years, I stayed quiet around my partner’s extended family—not because I didn’t care, but because speaking up was often met with outright dismissal or subtle hostility. I made that choice deliberately—to protect myself from aggression, to preserve my energy, to keep navigating a world that often penalizes brown women for asserting themselves. The events of Jan. 7 make it the time to break that silence publicly and to reach out to in-laws after many years of estrangement.
I live my life as a brown Asian American woman in this country. That shapes how I move through public spaces, institutions, and personal relationships. It shapes how I am seen, judged, and expected to absorb discomfort so others can remain comfortable. Surrounded by people or communities who normalize or excuse discrimination, those expectations leave women of color alone, unseen, and exhausted.
This piece isn’t meant to accuse anyone of cruelty. It is meant to describe the reality of living in a world where silence, neutrality, or inaction often protects comfort over justice. The small slights, dismissals, and ignored experiences that accumulate over years may seem insignificant individually, but together they shape lives in profound ways.
On Jan. 7, Renee Good, a 37-year-old white woman, was murdered by the American government. Her child now faces life without a mother. Her partner and child may have witnessed her murder. Imagining her final moments brings a constriction in my chest that is hard to shake. Alongside that sorrow is a painful awareness—when a white woman is murdered, it has a chance to make the mainstream headlines. And this is why I choose to speak to Trump supporters at this time.
People who support harmful policies or are part of communities associated with them can also show care, generosity, and compassion in other contexts. However, when overt and systemic racism is not acknowledged—or acknowledged only sporadically—the silence elsewhere becomes striking. Even in families or communities that describe themselves as neutral or progressive, silence in the face of hostility, aggression, and anti-Black or anti-Brown policies speaks volumes. That silence is rarely neutral, it leaves those affected to absorb the harm alone.
This dynamic shapes the next generation, too. Children raised in these environments learn whose voices matter, whose pain is centered, and whose suffering can be ignored. For women of color, these lessons compound the challenges of parenting, advocating, and navigating life in a society that often deprioritizes their experiences.
While silence can feel like survival, it comes at a cost—a cost that grows sharper with each moment of inaction. It kills—metaphorically and literally. Speaking up now is about naming reality, making visible the consequences of cumulative dismissals, and acknowledging the labor it takes to survive and advocate in a world that often asks us to stay quiet.
Even partial understanding can make a difference. If one person reading this recognizes the harm caused by silence and chooses to act differently, it matters. Understanding doesn’t require agreement—but it does require looking honestly at who bears the weight of our collective choices.
For women like me, that weight has never been theoretical. We have been carrying it all along. I ask Trump supporters, who previously supported his policies or who remained silent as his policies have killed and who might see things differently after the murder of a young white U.S. American woman, to stand up. Acknowledge, carry, and fight it with me.
Joyce Shui is a lawyer and business executive. She earned her A.B. from Harvard University and her J.D. from NYU School of Law. She most recently worked for SAP, served on the Bellevue School District Board, and engages in pro bono legal work advancing racial and gender equity. Her opinions are her own.