by Lisa Yuen-Umfurer
The pandemic has been hard for Asian Americans in a way that a lot of our neighbors don’t understand. Everyone around the world is suffering, but Asian American small business owners have had to deal with the twin crises of running a business while navigating COVID restrictions, and growing racism and xenophobia, which has contributed to significant drops in customers.
Brutal murders of eight people at Atlanta spas one week ago today in acts that appear targeted to the victims’ Asian heritage are terrifying, and I worry about the safety of my employees every single day. There have been nearly 4,000 acts of violence directed toward Asian Americans over the past year in our country, and those are just the ones that have been recorded.
That’s part of the reason why I’m deeply troubled that there are politicians in Chicago who are trying to run businesses like mine out of their neighborhoods — especially when I’ve finally come across an opportunity to succeed during these challenging times.
I am an Asian American woman and third generation chef and restaurateur. Due to COVID, I had to shut down my standalone restaurant business after 18 years. I decided to open a small restaurant called Dai Yee’s in Cloud Kitchens’ space in the North Center neighborhood. Launching in a ghost kitchen has allowed me to carry on the traditions and recipes my dad taught me growing up.
The ghost kitchen has also been a blessing for me in more ways than one over the past year: For one thing, I can still run a business even as other standalone, brick and mortar businesses have shuttered as a consequence of COVID-19 related restrictions. Other restaurants have been crushed, but this new chance has been a godsend for my livelihood.
And especially as a woman, I have also been comforted by not having a retail storefront. There have been countless accounts of Asian American-owned businesses being vandalized in the last year: windows smashed, racist graffiti, dead animals left on doorsteps. For me, working without a retail storefront means avoiding vandalism and even violence. This gives me the safety and peace of mind that I’ve badly needed over the past year. I have acquaintances who have been victims of anti-Asian violence. It’s frightening. And it’s a double whammy for those of us who own restaurants, because many people no longer want to be seen patronizing Asian American establishments — as if business over the past year hasn’t been hard enough.
I’m proud to bring my culture and my cuisine and an important service to the neighborhood where I operate. I’m grateful for the strong reception my restaurant has gotten this year and the success it’s brought that has enabled me to employ staff from my previous restaurant and ensure they’re continuing to get paychecks during this tumultuous time.
I understand that success leads to more traffic in the neighborhood where we work. Certainly, a little extra traffic is worth saving small businesses like mine and the much-needed jobs we strive to create. Of course we want to do everything we can to be good neighbors, because we want all of the residents of the neighborhood to enjoy our great food. We want customers, and we want strong relationships with everyone we serve. We want our neighbors to be proud of us, our employees, and the economic impact we have in the community.
The same is true for my colleagues. I’m glad I’ve gotten to know other food entrepreneurs who work alongside me at Cloud Kitchens, because there’s strength in building bridges in the industry across lots of communities and cultures. When we break down barriers and forge new connections, we have a better chance to bring an end to many of the terrible problems our various communities face. It’s deeply disappointing that local politicians are more interested in cutting off our livelihoods instead of seeing the value of our work and our contributions to the neighborhood and the city.
