Reflections on the “Rooftop Koreans” of 1992 Amid New Protests

LOS ANGELES – Over three decades ago, Yongjik Lee took a stand, armed with a shotgun atop a furniture store during the tumultuous 1992 Los Angeles riots.

Recently, as protesters confronted police in L.A. over federal actions affecting immigrants, the idea of “armed vigilantes” protecting the Korean community has resurfaced.

The term “Rooftop Koreans” has turned into a viral meme, drawing concerns about violence in L.A., while Mayor Karen Bass has suggested that more needs to be done.

Donald Trump Jr. shared an image on X showing an armed individual on a rooftop amidst the recent riots.

Lee stated that the memes circulating online fail to capture the true fear that characterized the atmosphere back then, emphasizing that the current protests are markedly different from those in 1992.

“All Koreans were focused on safeguarding our businesses, but also preserving the dignity and spirit of our community,” Lee reflected. He moved to the U.S. in 1981 and served in both Korean and American military forces, insisting, “We didn’t seek conflict. We wanted peace.”

Historic photos from that time depict armed Korean individuals stationed on rooftops while chaos unfolded in May 1992.

The riots erupted after four white police officers were acquitted in the brutal beating of Rodney King, resulting in over 60 fatalities and property damages nearing $1 billion.

During the unrest, Lee noted that law enforcement largely neglected Koreatown, prioritizing affluent neighborhoods instead. “The police didn’t respond. They used Koreatown as a buffer,” he explained. “I was just watching the destruction unfold on TV.”

Amidst the turmoil, Lee took matters into his own hands, picking up fire extinguishers and a shotgun before joining others on their rooftops to protect local businesses.

He observed that nearly every shop owner on his block was armed, each having served in the military.

No one, Lee argued, desired violence. “We weren’t out to harm anyone. Our goal was peace. We wanted to defend our property without resorting to aggression,” he recalled.

“It wasn’t just about safeguarding my assets; it was about my very foundation. Losing them would mean losing everything I had built here.”

By the end of the riots, over 1,800 Korean-owned businesses were either looted or destroyed, as reported.

As the narrative evolved, “Koreans on the Roof” became viewed in the media as allies of law enforcement.

Kyon Heely, who moved to the U.S. in the 1980s, recalled witnessing her tire shop being ransacked. “We did what we had to do,” she said in Korean.

“We were fighting for survival because, honestly, the police weren’t helping us. They abandoned our community,” she added.

Many Korean Americans support the recent protests in Los Angeles. After Trump Jr.’s post went viral, the Korean-American Freedom Federation criticized it, saying that it invoked painful memories from the past.

“What gets posted online often revives traumatic memories,” said Winil Kim, recalling his struggles during the riots. “While we admire those who protect our communities, that time was incredibly harsh.”

Today, things differ in Koreatown, where residents say police presence is still inadequate. Yet the community, once a struggling minority, has since flourished. “Nowadays, with insurance in place, people aren’t rushing to the rooftops,” Kim quipped.

Tony Moon, a “rooftop Korean” who was 19 during the riots, embraced his past, calling himself the “OG Roof Korean” and advocating for Second Amendment rights.

After recent protests, he shared a meme urging California Governor Gavin Newsom and Mayor Bass to respond to the situation.

As for Yongsik Lee, he finds himself somewhat in agreement with the protesters, seeing their actions as more peaceful compared to the violence of the Rodney King riots.

Interestingly, Lee sees parallels between the struggles of Koreans in the 90s and current Latino immigrants. However, he acknowledges that views on the “rooftop Korean” legacy vary widely within the Korean community. “Not all Koreans see it the same way,” he admitted. “When you’re on the roof, perspectives can differ greatly.”