Ethnic insult poses dilemma for Anchorage TV reporter

On May 18, my photographer and I are invited to a conservative radio talk show to get behind-the-scenes video of a debate on a divisive issue. We accept.

The radio station has two guests whose views differ from the host. It is a fiery show, and listeners queue up to sound off. As part of the discussion, the talk show host brings up race and begins to imitate an Asian accent: "Ah, you like, ah, you know, you like a rice."

Both his guests, neither of whom is Asian American, groan disapprovingly.

Seconds later, he interrupts his guest with another Asian imitation.

And then again:

"I can dog Koreans because I'm married to one."

THE MANAGER APOLOGIZES

Back in the newsroom, I get a phone call from the station manager. He wants to personally apologize for the host's comments and mentions something about internal disciplinary action. I'm thrown off-guard; I'm at my desk, working on a different story and setting up interviews for a third one.

Without much thought, I tell him I didn't take the host's comments personally; his job is to get people riled up. But, yes, now that you mention it, the comments were very offensive -- whether the listener is Asian or not, I tell him.

The manager sounds relieved, laughs and thanks me.

'WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?'

I discuss the issue with my co-workers and the response is almost unanimous: Why didn't you say something right then and there?

My response: I'm a reporter. I was there to observe. Never in my decade-long career in journalism have I ever been the story, been in the story or been part of the story -- nor do I wish to be.

But wasn't I offended as a Korean American? The host disrespected you personally and professionally.

Honestly, I respond, I hear that kind of stuff so much, it becomes white noise. Especially from a conservative radio talk show.

Later, at home, I wonder: What would I have done had I been a listener in my car? Would I have said something? Was I hiding behind my profession?

How many of us have friends, acquaintances, coworkers who have adopted the same line of logic as the host: "My wife is Korean so I can dog on Koreans" or "My best friend is black so ..."

One remark about Koreans today, another remark about Natives tomorrow, yet another about gays ... they all add up. A cheap laugh at another's expense. Each and every remark chips away, just a little bit, until you get to a point when you're numb to it. Desensitized.

WHEN DID I CHANGE?

For the past few days, I've been chastising myself for not having done things differently. But mostly, I wonder: When did I change?

Many years ago, my college newspaper kindly (and foolishly) bestowed upon me an opinion column. I was 19, 20 years old, my mind brimming with rhetoric from various ethnic studies and women's studies classes. I saw discrimination everywhere, and I duly pointed out the egregious offense of each and every incident in my columns. I got involved in rallies and demonstrations and I always, always called out the local radio and television stations for airing anything remotely offensive.

Once I got my first real newspaper job, a mentor advised that I keep my politics to myself, out of the newsroom and definitely out of my stories. It was a challenge but, over the years, I learned the fine art of using my liberal arts education to add depth to my stories without slanting them.

Now, more than a decade and several jobs later, I sit here, wondering: Have I sold out? In the quest that every working professional undertakes to "pick and choose battles wisely," have I grown into a passive people-pleaser?

A RESPONSIBILITY TO SPEAK UP

You have a responsibility, my coworker tells me. You have a responsibility as a Korean American working in the media to speak up.

Yes, I do. I am the only Korean American on-air in Anchorage. But should the burden of representation be solely mine? Shouldn't we all be offended and speak up?

I have a card on my desk. It's a quote from Pastor Martin Niemoller, a German pastor who was imprisoned by the Nazis.

"First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out because I was not a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me."

The remarks made by these radio hosts or shock jocks or DJs are not killing anyone. But words have the power to incite rage, quell fear, propagate stereotypes, spread hate.

Isn't it time for someone to speak up and say "Enough"?

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Grace Jang is a reporter for a local television station. The opinion here is her own and does not represent the views of her employer.