A struggle that deserves attention

Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Chinese attacked …

Does this sound familiar, like your favorite childhood television show about an air-bending monk-boy? That’s because it is.

For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m referencing the old animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender, or, as I call it, “The closest modern media will get to reporting on Tibet’s issues.” As the Fire Nation Army in the animated series destroys Air Temples and kills the entire air-bending race in search of the Avatar, I sensed a strong resemblance to the Chinese invasion of Tibet in 1949-50 and the bloody rebellion in Tibet in 1959.

People who love the show as much as I do probably grew up laughing at the character of Sokka’s awful jokes and Toph’s dry humor before turning off their TV sets, no doubt content with the show’s happy ending and the peaceful reunification of the four nations.

I was left staring at the screen, realizing that except for the ending, this is Tibet’s reality.

I could relate to this show. I saw myself in Aang, the boy with no nation; I was the Tibetan girl with no country. In my mind, the show was evidence that an ending to the pain Tibetans everywhere feel was possible.

Avatar ended with peace, unity and no death: all things I needed as I watched Dorjee Tsering, a real teen my age, set himself on fire one day in 2016 in protest of the genocide in Tibet. I needed to believe in unity and peace while reading that he self-immolated because he believed it was the only way to get people to notice what was happening in Tibet. It was still something I needed four days later when he died. Avatar was my escape.

I wanted him, this 16-year-old boy, to be on mainstream television, but he wasn’t there. It was as if he had disappeared with the smoke. I began to wonder if people would ever care.

And although we shared similarities, deep down I hated the character of Aang. I hated that he achieved his happy ending, but my people and I had not. I hated that his friends, Katara, Toph and Sokka, were willing to die to help him on his mission, while some of my peers still ask me if I celebrate Chinese New Year. (To put it simply, we don’t, so stop asking.)

I was jealous and bitter of a television show character. Sounds ridiculous, right? But is it? Tibet has been under political control of China for the last 58 years, and millions of Tibetans have died, hundreds have selfimmolated and much of Tibet’s rich wildlife has been wiped out.

So yes, in my ideal world, Aang’s ending would be ours, too. But this isn’t Avatar. The likeliness of the Chinese prime minister’s son siding with the Dalai Lama and returning Tibet to its people is probably less than 1 percent. So instead, I ask for awareness. Growing up in a world where I’m greeted with confused stares when I mention Tibet’s issues or explain that I’m not Chinese is tiring. A change is long overdue.