The Ritual of Civic Apology

Cities across the American West are issuing belated apologies for 19th-century expulsions of Chinese residents, but their meaning and audience remain uncertain.

It was a moment when many Asian Americans asked to be recognized as victims of racial violence and police brutality, both past and present. “Stop Asian hate!” became a rallying cry. Viral videos circulated, many showing violence against Asian people by Black people. Some Asian Americans called for new laws and more policing, unaware or willing to set aside the fact that Black Americans face higher rates of police violence and systemic discrimination.

That spring, I spoke at a local rally. Looking back at my notes, I see that I never mentioned anti-Blackness, or Black Lives Matter. It seems strange now. But for a brief time, we were too focussed on our own racial grievances to see past them.

Mayor Hernandez-Thorpe had a broader, bolder view. Following his lead, the Antioch City Council passed a resolution in May. It began:

WHEREAS, during “The Driving Out” period, Antioch officially became a “Sundown Town” . . .
WHEREAS, in order to get from their jobs to their homes each evening, these Chinese residents built a series of tunnels . . .
WHEREAS, in 1876, Chinese residents were told by white mobs that they had until 3 p.m. to leave Antioch—no exceptions. . .

In light of these and other offenses, the city apologized “to all early Chinese immigrants and their descendants,” declaring that “a genuine apology and seeking forgiveness are an important and necessary first step in the process of racial reconciliation.”

The national media picked it up. Soon, Hernandez-Thorpe was leading cameras into a basement downtown, pointing out sealed doors to the “Chinese tunnels” mentioned in the resolution. The Antioch Historical Museum claimed that an 1851 county ordinance had barred Chinese residents from Antioch’s streets after dark—and that they’d responded by burrowing under the city.

“I can’t believe we did this to people,” Hernandez-Thorpe said after descending underground. It reminded him of when he once visited the Amistad. The sight of the slave ship made him sick.

Journalists didn’t question Antioch’s recounting of its history. I did. The 1876 expulsion and fire are part of the historical record. The tunnels are not. Nor is there any evidence of a sundown ordinance in Antioch. When I wrote to the museum asking for documentation of either claim, they backtracked: there was nothing about any such law, and serious questions about the tunnels.

The myth of Chinese tunnels has circulated for more than a century. In the nineteenth century, it was a racist fantasy—Chinese men sneaking through city sewers “like rats,” kidnapping sailors, enslaving women. In Antioch’s version, the tunnels stand for Chinese ingenuity and survival. But myth is still myth.