Remembering 429
Disclaimer*: Most names and any identifying details have been changed for the sake of anonymity.
With the recent George Floyd Riots, tens of thousands of people across the United States exercised their First Amendment to protest against the unjust death of George Floyd, which highlighted the years of police brutality, racial inequality, and oppression against African Americans in the United States. The right to protest is protected by the First Amendment in the U.S. Constitution and it is one of our most fundamental rights of democracy in the United States.
For most Gen Zs, the George Floyd Riots were the first demonstration of civil unrest that they had experienced. “I’ve lived in Koreatown my entire life and I’ve never experienced anything like the George Floyd riots. I’ve never experienced mandatory curfews, seen the National Guard roaming the streets…it was my first time seeing the government exercise its power and living through it,” says Nicole Tanaka*, a 17-year-old resident of Koreatown. “I actually went to protest peacefully with my family in Hollywood.”
The right to protest is embedded in the Constitution of the United States, and has been exercised more than once against police brutality. While many characterize the George Floyd Riots to the Rodney King Riots in 1992, which is the closest historical event of police brutality and civil unrest on the timeline, the George Floyd Riots pales in comparison in terms of violence.
On March 3rd, 1991, Rodney Glen King who had been intoxicated and caught speeding, led California Highway Patrol officers and LAPD officers on a high-speed chase along highways and residential roads that lasted a little over eight minutes, with speeds ranging as high as 117 mph. King pulled up to an apartment in San Fernando Valley was apprehended.
George Holliday, a resident in the apartment who had been awakened by the noise, videotaped four white LAPD officers tasing, kicking, and hitting King with their batons. This video was later turned over to a local news station, and went viral, sparking violent outrage all across the country.
Sergeant Stacey Koon and officers Theodore Briseno, Laurence Powell, and Timothy Wind pleaded not guilty after the Los Angeles County Jury charged the four officers with felony assault and other offenses.
On April 29, 1992, a little over a year after Rodney King had been brutalized by the police, the police officers were acquitted for almost all charges, which became the tipping point that set off the historical 1992 LA Riots. The Los Angeles 1992 Riots became one of the worst civil disruptions in the United States with an estimated $1 billion dollars in property damage, 50+ people were killed, 2,300+ injured, and 12,100+ arrests made.
North of South Central is small stretch of 2.7 square miles called Koreatown, where the Korean-American population refer to the Los Angeles 1992 Riots as 429폭동 (Saigu Pok-dong), translating directly to 4/29 Riots. “429” refers to a dark period in the history of Koreatown, where racial tensions were dangerously high, violence was rampant along the streets, and the town had been abandoned.
While the riots had destroyed property all around Los Angeles county, Koreatown was especially impacted by the 1992 LA Riots, which many have characterized to be an ethnic conflict. Some refer to the murder of Latasha Harlins as a rallying cry for the 1992 Los Angeles Riots, as rioters “called her name as they set fire to hundreds of Korean-owned businesses.” Latasha Harlins was a 15-year-old African American teenager who had been shot in the back of the head with a .38-caliber handgun by Soon Ja Du, a Korea-born convenience store owner, only 13 days after the beating of Rodney King. Harlins had gone to buy orange juice from Du’s Empire Liquor Market in South Central, when Soon Ja Du, the Korean-born convenience store owner, accused Harlins of shoplifting for having the orange juice in her backpack, even though Harlins had the money in her hands. Earlier that morning, Harlins’ grandmother had warned her not to enter Du’s Empire Liquor Market unless she planned on purchasing something.
Many African Americans in the community were outraged and protested outside of Du’s Empire Liquor Mark, until Du was taken into custody. Months later, Du was taken to court and the jury convicted Du guilty of voluntary manslaughter and recommended a maximum of 16 years in prison. Judge Joyce Karlin, however, only charged Du with five years of probation, 400 hours of community service, and a $500 fine and Du walked free.
This tension between the African American and Korean American community had always existed; Grace Lee, a filmmaker who created an interactive documentary called KTOWN ‘92 to cover the Rodney King Riots, says that, “I interviewed a few people, African American and Latino, who were born and raised in South LA. They were middle schoolers or high schoolers [during the ‘92 Riots], and they talked about their experiences growing up in South Central with Korean business owners, who owned most of the businesses there; they [spoke about their] experiences of feeling disrespected going into these stores.”
Tensions were high enough in South Central, a predominantly African American community, with the beating of Rodney King having been less than two weeks ago, and Harlins’ murder and Du’s release only escalated the racial tensions and negative emotions between the Korean-American and African American community in the neighborhood.
“Koreans made money in black neighborhoods, lived in white neighborhoods, drove nice cars…With the money they earned there, they should have served the community back, but they didn’t. When you put Koreans into the scene, this must have made them think, “Yes, that owner of the liquor store only took money from me, but never gave it back,” states Jung Hui Lee in an interview with ABC News, as she tries to explain the rocky relationship between Korean Americans and African Americans.
A year later, with the acquittal of the police officers who beat Rodney King, the black community could no longer endure the injustice and blatant discrimination, setting the ‘92 Riots into motion.
In Koreatown alone, damages exceeded $200 million and 300+ businesses were burned and looted. “When [my boss and I] came back to the store the next day, there was nothing there. Only the hangers. [The rioters] threw the register through the glass window. There was nothing left. Not even one pin. My boss fainted when she got there. When she woke up, she kept crying and crying and crying,” says Jennifer Lopez*, a Hispanic woman who worked as a retail store worker in Koreatown in ‘92.
“Without any political clout and power in the city, Koreatown was unprotected and left to burn since it was not a priority for city politicians and the LAPD,” states Edward T. Chang, a professor of Ethnic Studies at UC Riverside in an article by HuffPost.
It was a hard, painful truth for the residents of Koreatown: the town and the people within it had been abandoned and were left to fend for themselves. “As the days progressed, my disbelief, shock and pain for the victims turned to anger and frustration. I felt the community was totally ignored. The police that were supposed to “serve and protect” did/could not respond to the community’s cry for help. After the Riot, I saw many police officers personally apologizing to many Korean store owners for not being able to protect them and leave them with ashes and rubble. As individuals, those officers were good people, but police as an institution was absent when it was needed the most,” states Justin Won, a Korean-American volunteer for the LAPD and a member of the Koreatown Watch Team, a mobile crime watch project.
Jane Doe*, a Korea-born immigrant who came to Koreatown in 1982, states, “Koreatown was ruined by the riots. I could hear gunshots, see the fires in every direction. Koreatown was on fire. The state governments were telling us to stay at home. I remember thinking, ‘This is how America is.’ I didn’t want to live here and I wanted to leave immediately.”
When Koreatown recognized that the violence within their community would continue to be perpetuated without intervention, and that they had been left to their own qualms, the residents turned to more spontaneous measures.
The Rooftop Koreans, perhaps the most notable implication in the Korean American community, were a group of Korean-Americans who banded together and exercised their Second Amendment in order to protect Koreatown from looters. The self-defense group would bear arms and watch over the city on the rooftops of buildings — hence the name — and protect their family, their friends, and their property.
John Doe*, who was 16 years old during the LA Riots, has a personal connection with these Koreatown protection groups. “Because of the riots, in my brother’s case, he and his friends made a gang. They used to call themselves KPB, which is an abbreviation for Korean Playboys. Because they were gang members, they had guns and other contrabands,” states Doe. “They were like, “”We have to protect Koreatown,”” from the riots they met older people at the center of the town. I remember they used to patrol the streets and they were even willing to kill the mobs who threatened Koreatown.”
The residents of Koreatown also mobilized a Koreatown Watch Team, which was “a mobile crime watch project organized by Korean-speaking amateur radio operators (also known as “ham”),” according to Won. “Every night, we drove around Koreatown and radioed LAPD for any possible criminal/suspicious activities. See, it was years before cell phones were available, so being able to communicate via radios and directly report to the police made crime prevention/intervention efforts unique and more effective. Some days, LAPD officers patrolled with us.”
“We had to fight back. We had to protect ourselves. That was a mutual sentiment: everybody had to take care of each other. Without any hesitation, everyone grabbed their weapons and they were united and they were willing to protect each other,” states John Doe*, a resident of Koreatown as he recollects his memory of the LA 1992 Riots.
Shots were fired, buildings were burned, stores were looted, and lives were lost. Edward Jaesong Lee, a 18-year old Asian male, died on Thursday, April 30th when he reported to a restaurant called Wonsan Myeonok, which had been notified to Radio Korea to have been taken over by African American rioters. “My son was shot by someone who had fired from the roof, and it turned out that the people on the roof weren’t blacks, but Koreans,” says Jung Hui Lee, the mother of Edward. Lee had been caught in the crossfire and died soon after being shot.
According to CNN, by May 3rd, 1,100+ Marines, 600 Army soldiers, and 6,500 National Guard troops patrolled the streets of LA, marking the end of the LA Riots. While the looters were no longer on the streets, the echoes of their actions were long perpetuated after.
“Twenty-five years ago, we learned a lesson in what the lack of political power and cultural misunderstandings between minority groups can do,” says Chang Lee in an article by CNN. “It can destroy us.”
The ‘92 Riots were not just about Rodney King; they were a part of a larger unrest, one that lied within a heavy intersection where multiple factors crossed. The Rodney King Riots is an extremely multifaceted event that we cannot afford to generalize: there is no one real cause, one real solution, one “right” side…We need to understand the dynamics of the Rodney King Riots and everything that had built up to reach the point: it was the centuries of racial discrimination towards African Americans, police brutality, systematic oppression, racism within minority groups, distrust between communities, the lack of civic engagement, the debilitating stereotype of being the ‘model minority’…While we can never fully understand the true scope of this historical event and the domino-effect that it’s had, the most powerful thing we can do is to work together as a unified community — with no qualms of race, socioeconomic status, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, you name it — and combat this issue together.
(August 29th, 2020)