Big Straw by Allison Tran

Volume 6, Issue 1

Big Straw March 2010

Page 1

Boom! KABLAM! Pow! Cheers can be heard across the room. “Yeah Batman! Get those bad guys!” or “No Pikachu! Don’t give up!” Remember the times when cartoons used to air in the morning? That was the childhood. Despite all nagging from my mother, I would sit in front of the television from morning until noon. What is so special about these cartoons that attract us all? To be honest, it is only now as an adult that I realize there’s more to these moving colored drawings. I can recall the times Ash Ketchum taught me the power of teamwork and faith to overcome difficulty. I can still see Clark Kent saving my Saturday mornings. What all of these television “distractions” have in common are the superheroes. Every child needs someone to take after, a role model. Our Saturday mornings cartoons provided us just that in the forms of superheroes. After almost three generations of settlement, the Asian community has only started to take its foothold in America. Since the ending of the Asian Exclusion Act in 1921, Asians of multiple cultures have established communities in the United States hoping for a share of the American dream. Asians now make up 5% of the American Population, but the original problems from when they first arrived in America still exist. Chinatowns and other Asian are considered dangerous and unsanitary. There’s a lack of Asians portrayed in media and taking part in leadership positions. The literary world has heard of few Asian American authors, save for Amy Tan (The Joy Luck Club). Like a growing child, the Asian community needs role models. Addressing these problems, this issue’s theme is superheroes. The main character of The Catcher in the Rye has impacted Korean university students and created an academic counterculture. Asian leaders have come to Carnegie Mellon in hopes of motivating our community. All these stories and much more is in store within these thin pages. If you’re feeling the nostalgia of a Saturday morning on the sofa as you read through, we’re doing our job. Big Straw is here to see our community grow, and we want to make a lasting impact. As editor, I’ve been challenged by my peers who commonly point out the decline of print magazines. Starting the year with a staff of seven people, we had our doubts, but since then we have overcome our struggles and grown. Our progress as an organization motivates me not only to continue, but also to overcome expectations set by my peers. From working on the railroads, Asians have moved on. Now, immigrants and their children engineer the roads that are being built, connect networks of people together through technology, and lay the path of large corporations in America. Big Straw will guide and perpetually provide. I am proud to say, that this will not be the last straw. BS. Break Stereotypes. Bull S. Big Straw - Charles Leung

Asian American Interest Magazine Carnegie Mellon University May 2011

Table of Contents

Power and Privilege in the Presence of Spaceships by Audrey Tse 4

Dying for Dining by Bonita Leung

Hidden Agenda, Asians Coming The Hidden Agenda, Asian ComingOut Outof ofthe the Clockwork Woodwork. by Kenny Kenny Zhu Zhu by

History of Rock in China by Eddie Lu

ASLC Series

Wong Fu Takes the World

by Jennie Tang and Hyein Kim

Mina Pi: A Vision by Charles Leung

Ali Wong

by Sandra Yeh

Suon Cheng by Kenny Zhu

y Tse by Audre

I was out for blood. My eyes must have been twitching from the sheer anger festering within me, I was literally ready to bust a cap in someone’s ass. Three Shanghai Expo shuttle buses that were transporting people across the HuangPu River had already passed, and despite initially being in the front of the line, the crush of humanity pushed me further and further back with each shuttle’s arrival. It was quite a spectacle to see parents whacking nearby passengers with their strollers to get their children on the bus, couples in matching outfits linking arms as they pushed forward, and members of elderly tourist groups with matching neon-pink hats from rural China shoving themselves in-between any gaps left unoccupied. When the forth bus came, I had to disregard all recollection of politeness, civilization itself, and elbow towards the bus doors. If one were to combine thousands of aggressive Chinese people, painfully long lines dotted with foldable stools, and the suffocation of humidity mixed with smog, you would get the Shanghai Expo 2010: one of the most jarring experiences of my life. I was staying in Hong Kong for the summer, and decided to embark on a ten-day trip with my uncle to see the muchhyped-about Expo. Like the Beijing Olympics, the Expo validated China as a bourgeoning nation on par with its Western counterparts—an opportunity to highlight future aspirations of this great nation. Instead, I was accosted by a city that was the shadow of my expectations, and being knocked around by a lot of belligerent, post-Mao Chinese citizens who were taught to fight for everything and anything in life. The Pavilions with their never-ending lines also failed to impress. Their purpose to commercially appeal to the Chinese population in hopes of potentially hacking into one of the biggest consumer markets in the world caused most of their presentations to be advertisements. The few countries whose Pavilions served a solely aesthetic purpose were Northern European countries. I fell in love with Finland’s Pavilion that was endearingly called the Fish Bowl, Netherlands’ whimsical playtoy-like structure that looked like box houses strung together with Christmas lights, and Denmark’s Pavilion that let you borrow bicycles to ride up-and-down

on the circular walkway that curled around Copenhagen’s famed Little Mermaid statue. Their consciousness design that focused on truly making the audience into city participators won be over. In stark comparison, the U.S. Pavilion was a simple dingy gray box, and the walls of the first room people would enter into were completely plastered with American brands. The highlight of the Pavilion was a video presentation that featured celebrities ranging from Kobe Brian to Hilary Clinton preaching the gloriousness of American values. Scoff! I went. Jackie Chan’s brief appearance on the video to claim cultural ties between the two nations received adamant applause from the audience. The feature story of a white girl who gathers an African American man, an elderly Asian woman, and other neighbors of uncanny racial diversity to help her plant a garden in a deserted corner plot literally made me spittle blood. What propaganda. The experience of going through the U.S. Pavilion as an Asian American, specifically a Cantonese American in mainland China who does not know Mandarin made me feel like the doubly misplaced - the Other’s Other. I was uncomfortable to say the least as I exited through the gift shop at the end swarming with Expo attendees basking in plethora of Disney products and Apple gadgets, capitalism galore. My expectations of the World Expo, Shanghai, and its inhabitants were probably impossible to begin with. This was my first Expo, and while my well-traveled uncle was more wary, I suppose I didn’t fully prepare myself for the political purposes behind such a large globalized event. Films like Shanghai Triad following the demise of a gold-digging mistress and The Goddess starring the immortalized Ruan Lingyu had engraved an image in my mind of an alluring cosmopolitan city with unrivaled glamour. Shanghai’s architecture and urban planning in lieu of China’s industrial sprawl was the issue of most contention for me. Shanghai’s growth is evident in the development around the HuangPu River. The Bund located on the West side of the River holds the honor of claiming the historical rich and quintessential section of the city with its landmark buildings that invoke the prestige and seductiveness of Shanghai’s golden

age in the 1930’s. But upon closer inspection, even the Bund’s architecture is marred by floods of yellow lighting, its already verdant trees has green spotlights that make them look artificial. The once historical landmarks that made the Bund famous such as the first flagship HSBC neoclassical building is now a government building, and the art deco Sassoon House has been divided into two different hotels. The other side of the HuangPu River is Pudong—a symbol of not only Shanghai’s pride, but as China’s success as a rising global power. Pudong is lined with tacky financial buildings, the two main egregious structures that exuded an entitled awe and dominated the skyline was the Shanghai World Financial Center that looks like a bottle opener, and the Oriental Pearl Tower that broadcasts TV and radio programs looks like a spaceship about to liftoff into outer space. The few days that my uncle and I took exploring the city outside the Expo were somewhat lackluster. After the first few hours of walking around exploring the French Concession and touristy Yuyuan Gardens, it dawned on me that my expectations were overly romantic, yet even with lowered expectations, the realities of the city still disappointed. Shanghai didn’t match up with the films, nor the reflection of New China depicted in documentaries and New York Times articles predicting the nation’s road to world domination. The first night we walked along the famous Bund and the nearby Nanjing Road known as shopping heaven—a cheaper version of 5th Avenue in New York. My uncle and I split up since the shopping interests of a 19-year old female and a mid 50’s-year old male are just slightly different. We planned on meeting an hour later at a certain tree. I wandered around alone in search for bargains, lingering on the odd feeling of solitary shopping in a foreign place. As the end of the hour approached, I began to walk back to our agreed meeting spot empty handed. While exiting a department store, which was really just a maze of small stores, I was approached by this young guy dressed in club attire, slinky silk shirt and polished shoes straight out of an Asian drama, completed with a helmet of orange hair. He initiated conversation in Mandarin, asking me if I wanted to spend

time with him. I responded that I only knew how to speak Cantonese tried to walk ahead, but he remained adamant and started following me. He must have been some sort of male hooker or something, because he attempted to flirt and told me that my Mandarin was pretty good when I know Beginners Chinese, 82-132 at Carnegie Mellon did not adequately prepare me for situations like these. I finally told him off, yelled I wasn’t interested, and practically ran away. Needless to say, by day nine, I was exhausted and was ready to leave. I was even home sick for Hong Kong, and that was just my temporary home for the summer. But it was on the last day in Shanghai that remains the most memorable for me. Since my uncle and I had already seen most of the major Pavilions, we planned an unambitious tour of Zone E to see the Expo’s smaller attractions—the Theme Pavilions that highlighted 5 city-related themes: Urbanian, City Being, Urban Planet, Footprint and Future. This section’s introspective nature naturally made it less popular in comparison to the grander country pavilions, but there were still plenty of people to brush shoulders with. At the entrance of the Theme Pavilions, we asked a somewhat small-framed guy working the front desk for further information. He was dressed in a smart suit, appeared to be in his mid 20’s, youthful with a slight air of impudence appropriate for a bro of his age. The moment we told him that we spoke English, he automatically offered to give us a walking tour of the exhibition. He enthusiastically stated that all English speakers receive a private tour, and he quickly ushered us farther into the Pavilion. I forget his name now, but the broken conversation sporadically

exchanged between the three of us made me think retrospectively. The tour started out awkwardly, and while he spoke English with a certain amount of command, his social mannerisms mixed with his eagerness to interact with “Americans” made things strange. He would tell other Chinese visitors that they couldn’t take flash photos in a somewhat demeaning way, slip a comment about how some Chinese people don’t know how to follow rules, and speak to some mysterious person on his Bluetooth. He was charismatic despite the awkwardness in the beginning, and he told us that he came from a small village near Nanjing, went to college where he majored in Economics, took Business English, and landed this job at the Expo—name dropping how he gave a tour to famous actress Maggie Chueng. He exuded ambitiousness and it was clear that he was confident in his future full of high profile VIPs and slick technology. His underhanded insults to the non-college educated visitors who ignored the signs that stated No Flash Photograph and obvious desire to make networking connections was a strange comparison to the rest of my Shanghai encounters. The path that he went on seemed to echo the millions of other youth who worked hard for their education to migrate into a bigger city with more opportunities, with the knowledge of English as the gatekeeper. By the end of the tour, we both said our goodbyes, and I was left with an alternative perspective of China. On the ferry across the Bund after a long day at the Expo, I began to reflect upon the acquaintance of the tour guide, and Shanghai itself. In my eyes, the city’s skyline was tacky. I was very much convinced that the majority of the city consisted of building that looked like spaceships and UFOs—I even compiled a collection of pictures as evidence. Neon lights were everywhere, and buildings blinded you with never-ending metamorphosing light displays. It would be6 torture to live behind the windows that flashed light every other 20 seconds. But the more I thought about the tour guide with his bright aspirations, and the diverse types of Chinese citizens from all regions and socioeconomic positions coming to the Shanghai Expo to precariously visit the world—basically participate in a type of cosmopolitanism that would otherwise be impossible—and even the

questionable guy on Nanjing Road, the more I began to understand the city’s purpose for these ostentatious bright lights. Amongst the city’s spaceship architecture, my random encounter with this one dude humanized China’s internal migration. These individuals are demanding their share of success, trying their best to engage in an upward mobility taken for granted in the U.S., and just living their lives the only way they know how. Placing a face on this new China I had only read about in articles on BlackBoard as a member of a private, elite college that trains its students to be professionally successful made me step back and evaluate my own assumptions and quick judgment as presumptuous, how silly I was! Who am I to visit a city for ten days, be confronted by aggressive individuals who could no way represent an entire country, and deem it as below my “standards” and expectations? I bet you the tour guide had no idea I would be writing about him almost a year later, as a literary device in this short story written for a campus magazine. Hah! From where the ferry dropped us off, we hailed a taxi to return to our hotel. My eyes were alert knowing that this was the last ride I would take in Shanghai for at least a few years. Gazing out the taxi window was cathartic after an entire day of waiting, walking, and standing, I even welcomed the water droplets that started falling and making patterns on the windowpane. It reminded me of the smooth dark car rides back home during my childhood, the comfort of recognizing the route’s turns and red lights, of security of having my dad behind the wheel. I used to stare at singular droplets as they raced across the windowpane, conglomerating with other smaller droplets only to disappear out of sight when the wind would push them out of view. I suddenly felt a warm sense of comfort and familiarity overtake me in a faraway place all the way across the world from where I grew up, with a stranger driving the car. The water pixilated the blue, purplish glow that lighted the underbelly of Shanghai’s highways, making them appear to be a neon vessels. There was a sign that said Welcome to Shanghai, in of course, neon lights. It was only at this moment when I finally realized the beauty of this urban metropolis, and felt a pang of desire to stay just a bit longer.

DYING TO LEARN

ABOUT

DINING?

Let’s say you’re taking a trip around Asia and decide to stop by China,

South Korea and Japan. Of course, there are plenty of things to keep you entertained. You’ve already traveled through tons of shops and karaoke bars and can’t wait to visit the famous monuments. But then you arrive at a restaurant, sit down to eat...and realize that you have no idea what to do.

Don’t worry, you’re not alone! Many people not accustomed to the

culture commonly make such mistakes in etiquette. The following hypothetical situations are those of tourists (just like you) who have traveled to distant Asian countries (just like you) and have made numerous dining errors — which you won’t be doing when it’s your turn 9

JACK IN BEIJING

Jack spent the entire day touring the popular tourist attractions in China with a few of his friends. Exhausted, they decided to take a break and eat at a local restaurant. After being seated at their table and receiving their order of sweet and sour pork, fish, Peking duck, fried noodles and cabbage, Jack and his friends were more than ready to eat. And that’s when all the trouble began. “Wow you guys have to try the Peking duck. It’s awesome!” said Jack, picking another two pieces from the serving plate. They even give us little saucers to put food in, nice! He dumped the duck on his saucer and took two more pieces. He waved his chopsticks at his older (by 10 years) brother, Peter. “Why aren’t you eating yet? It’s delicious!” “I’m trying to find something I like,” Peter answered, sifting through the plate of sweet and sour pork with his chopsticks. He popped a piece in his mouth, licked his chopsticks with satisfaction and attacked the serving plate again. “You should try this too.” He picked up a piece of pork and moved it to Jack’s bowl, who nearly dropped the pork halfway between the bowl and his own mouth. Clink, clink. At the end of the meal, their friend Kathy tapped her chopsticks against her bowl to get everyone’s attention. “This place is amazing! Too bad I’m too stuffed to finish anything.” That’s okay, because no one else seems to have finished their food either! She picked up the hot towel next to her plate and gently patted her face. “It’d be great if it wasn’t so hot over here, but that’s okay. We should definitely come here again!” “No, you definitely should not!” Mrs. Li had been watching the obnoxious group of diners for quite some time, and she had been getting more irritated by the second. They had to have been the 10

most ill-mannered group of people she had ever met, tourists or not. She is a regular at this restaurant, and it was therefore up to her to straighten out these rude intruders. She walked closer to the still shell-shocked group and pointed to Jack. “You have done so many things incorrectly, I don’t even know where to begin! Firstly, the eldest and most superior eats first. This means that the older man eats first, followed by the second most superior and so on. I have never seen so much disrespect towards an elder. Waving your chopsticks at him like he is your servant? Second, you must be the most selfish boy on Earth! You hover around the Peking duck like vultures circling their prey. What if your friends also decided the Peking duck was their favorite dish? They would not have a chance to eat their fill because you took it all. And as for that saucer, you are to use it for bones and shells. Regular food goes in your rice bowl, which you evidently do not know how to use.

CLINK CLINK KATHY TAPPED

HER CHOPSTICKS AGAINST HER BOWL TO GET EVERYONE’S ATTENTION

Or maybe you do not have hands? That would explain why you are incapable of holding it closer to your mouth so you don’t drop food around your plate like a wild animal!” At this point, Jack looked absolutely bewildered and possibly on the verge of tears. Peter and the others were laughing silently until Mrs. Li turned her gaze on the older brother. “I’m not even sure if you are worse than your fool of a brother or just impolite! Are you an archaeologist? Are you digging for something hidden among the sweet and sour pork? You should never pick and choose between morsels in the same dish. Just eat the one you touch! Even worse, never use the chopsticks you disgustingly slobbered over to serve other people from the serving bowl. There was a serving spoon: you should have used it. And if anything, you should have used the other end of your chopsticks to serve your brother. Have you no manners?” By then, Kathy was trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible. Unfortunately, this infuriated Mrs. Li even further. “You! I am surprised that you can even afford to be eating at this table. After all, beggars eat their meals on the streets—if they are lucky enough to have any!” Now, that was slightly uncalled for. “Who are you calling a beggar? Do I look homeless to you?” Kathy retorted. “Only beggars knock chopsticks against their bowls like they are begging for money. Only beggars are uneducated enough to leave their chopsticks sticking straight up out of their rice. This restaurant is probably cursed because you created an altar for the dead with incense sticks in your bowl with your chopsticks! And only beggars would wipe their faces with towels meant for your hands. Is this what poverty reduces you to?” Mrs. Li took a breath and noticed their partially filled bowls in the process. “Aiya and what is this!? None of you finished your rice or the dishes! How despicably rude! Was this restaurant not satisfactory? Does it not meet your high standards?”

Jack, Peter, Kathy and company were now thoroughly ashamed. The worst part was that they hadn’t even known there were specific rules! Now their fond memories of China were tainted forever. If only they had known...

HANNAH IN

HANGUG

Hannah was incredibly excited to see her best friend, So-Ra, during her visit to Korea. She was also looking forward to eating with So-Ra’s family at a popular Korean restaurant later that night. Hannah was a bit anxious about that night’s dinner, as her friend Peter had told her about his Chinese dining experience and consequentially scared her for a good two weeks about eating in Korea. Luckily, she still remembered a lot of the tips Peter and Jack told her before she left. She would be fine...right? 11

“Ah thank goodness we get to sit down. My feet are killing me!” Hannah exclaimed, plopping down on a cushion and stretching her feet under the dining table. Wow, these tables are so low. Hannah didn’t notice the raised eyebrows of So-Ra’s parents nor SoRa’s soft kick under the table. Nevertheless, So-Ra’s parents continued to give their order to the waiter, who set down their silverware and various sauces in the process. “So how has college been for you, Hannah?” So-Ra’s mother asked politely. As So-Ra poured tea into Hannah’s cup and filed her dish with soy sauce, Hannah didn’t notice and enthusiastically answered the question — in great length. After a long time, So-Ra eventually filled her father’s cup and dish as well, who was sitting on the other side of Hannah. Hannah continued to talk about her experiences as the meal progressed, moving from her classes to her professors to the variety of activities she participated in after classes. Meanwhile, So-Ra and her parents listened quietly over their bowls of rice and made noncommittal noises throughout the conversation. I should probably bring my bowl closer so I don’t drop food like Jack did, Hannah 12

thought to herself. She picked up her bowl and almost dropped it because it was so hot. How are they holding their bowls? I think my fingers nearly got burned! She glanced around the table, only to discover that no one was holding anything aside from chopsticks or their long spoons. That would explain things... She also noticed that So-Ra’s parents were starting to look at her rather oddly, so she tried to divert the attention from herself. “Hey So-Ra, are you going to eat that last slice of beef?” “Uh...no.” So-Ra was reaching for a piece of potato when Hannah reached in front of her chopsticks to take the beef. She watched in awe as Hannah finished the beef, as well as her rice, and...well...everything else she had in her bowl. This signaled the conclusion of the meal and they all went to shop for the rest of the night. A week later, So-Ra asked her mother if she could go out to dinner with Hannah. At this, her mother basically erupted like an irritated volcano. “Hannah? You want to eat dinner with her? She has no table manners whatsoever! I will not have you consorting with negative influences. I raised you to be better than that!”

“But Mom—” “But nothing! Hannah is rude and impolite. She did not show us respect when she sat down. Who splays their legs out like they own the entire table? She should have tucked her feet under her when she sat, and you know this! She did not pour tea or soy sauce for your father, when he was very clearly sitting right next to her. She talked incessantly throughout the meal and ruined what could have been a quietly pleasant dinner! And did you see when she tried to hold her bowl to her mouth? So uncouth! I’m not even going to get into how she intercepted your chopsticks as she finished the last piece of beef. Does her mother not feed her enough or was the restaurant inadequate in their serving portions? I have NEVER seen anyone eat so much, not to mention a girl her age and of that size.” “Mom, Hannah is from America. She doesn’t understand—” “I don’t care if she understands or not! I didn’t understand things when I came to Korea, but I learned! I learned so that I could make a place for myself and establish a living here! Do you know how hard I worked? I used to walk to school in the snow uphill BOTH WAYS just to receive a decent education. For someone educated in America, Hannah is a very poor example indeed!” “Mom, I don’t think you can walk uphill both ways—” “Do not contradict me! How dare you talk to your mother like that!” And so, So-Ra was never allowed to eat with Hannah again —all because of Hannah’s failed dining etiquette.

WHO

SPLAYS THEIR LEGS OUT LIKE THEY OWN THE ENTIRE TABLE?

MIA’S

LOVE IN A

SUSHI ROLL

I can’t believe I’m finally in Japan! I can’t wait to see all of the hotspots...and I especially can’t wait until I get to see Akio! Mia and Akio had been maintaining a long-distance relationship for...the entire duration of their relationship, actually. Mia met Akio through BigFish, an international dating site (“They say there are many fish in the sea. Why not try the ocean? Go across the ocean and find your one true love right now!”) and they instantly bonded. After three months of dating, Mia finally got the chance to visit Japan and see her boyfriend face to face for the very first time. In fact, he was planning to take her out to a very expensive restaurant for their first date that night. “Mia, you look beautiful” Akio said later that evening. “Your webcam surely does not do you any justice at all.” “I could say the same about you,” Mia replied, blushing. She was overcome by 13

the incredible sights and sounds of Japan, especially the mouth-watering aromas wafting from the kitchen of the high-class restaurant they were currently sitting in. She was feeling a bit shy and nervous, especially since she caught a tiny cold from the plane and had to spend the entire bus ride next to someone with a whooping cough. And now she was sitting across from what she thought was the most gorgeous boy in the world. Japanese boys were so pretty, she thought to herself. “How was your flight? How are you doing?” Akio asked, momentarily stunning Mia with a ravishing smile. Then she realized she would have to say something interesting and funny in order to entertain him. “Well, it was enjoyable for the most part, but I actually think I might have caught a slight cold. It was so chilly on the plane and the person next to me kept blowing his nose every five minutes and dumping his tissues in the barf bag he put right next to me! Laughs nervously. It was quite the experience. And then I sat next to someone with a horribly disgusting cough on the bus. There were probably a lot of germs floating around there too. Laughs again. But otherwise, I’m great! Japan is amazingly beautiful!” Akio looked slightly taken aback for a moment, but was distracted by the waiter setting their food on the table. He reached for the teapot, only to discover that Mia had already poured her own tea and was now pouring his as well. Then she picked up a piece of sushi, submerged it in soy sauce and dropped it in her mouth. Her eyes widened with delight. “Akio, this is delicious! You must try some as well!” She picked up a piece and put it in his bowl. “Do you want soy sauce too? I’ll help you put it in your rice!” “No, it’s fine—” “Oops! So sorry about that!” Mia was terribly embarrassed. Half of the soy sauce had emptied into his rice bowl, making it look like a pile of sludge. Akio looked mildly irritated (or so she thought). She hastily tried to hide behind her bowl of noodles and took a

bite. Mmm..so good! Better not slurp or he’ll think I’m some weird American girl with bad manners. She ate quietly until most of the bowl was empty. “How are your noodles?” Akio inquired politely. He moved his rice around with his chopsticks. Guess I’ll be sticking to sashimi... “Oh, they taste marvelous!” Mia caught sight of the sushi and immediately picked up a piece of tuna roll with her chopsticks. Hm this looks kind of big...I wonder if I can cut this in half somehow. She dunked one half in soy sauce, leaving the other in her bowl on the table. “Have you eaten the tuna roll? I’ve never tasted anything quite like it before!” “Yes, many times before,” Akio answered. He sighed inwardly. Why did every

Do you want soy sauce too?

I’ll help you put it in your rice! American girl he met assume that eating sushi was a rare phenomenon? He was about to reach for the teapot when Mia suddenly sneezed loudly, and then three times more. Akio quickly pulled his arm back as she reached for her napkin and blew her nose even more loudly, crumpling the used napkin and setting it to the side. As Akio watched in small wonder, she ate several more items before settling back in her chair, leaving the rest of her rice in her bowl and burping (not so quietly) into her hand. “Check. Please.”

Two days later, Mia eagerly logged on to BigFish and saw a message from Akio waiting in her inbox: Dear Mia, I must say, seeing you for the first time in person was definitely a surprise — though I cannot say it was an extremely pleasant one. I am writing to inform you that I cannot continue in our relationship any longer. Before you leave for the States, however, I would like to provide you with reasons as to why we cannot be together. I have heard of cultural differences, but I have never quite experienced them to the degree that I endured at dinner two nights ago. To begin with, you chose to discuss the most disturbing things before the meal. Although highly unpleasant, that could have been forgivable had you not ruined the meal in various other ways. I must say, one of the highlights of the evening was watching you blow your nose, leave the napkin wadded on the table and proceed to eat as though nothing had happened. And then there was that burp — so unseemly! One aspect that I look for in a relationship is the enjoyment of pleasant company while I dine. What I do not consider pleasant company is a girl who chooses to soil my pure, white rice with a flood of soy sauce. A girl who chooses to drown a precious piece of sushi in soy sauce is not ranked any higher. Another feature I look for is enjoyment of my own company. But there were times when you seemed utterly unsatisfied by the restaurant I chose. I have yet to meet another person who does not slurp their noodles in delight at that restaurant, not to mention a person who divides their sushi in half before consumption. You seemed eager enough when you commenced the meal without waiting for my offering, as well as pouring your own tea. And yet you did not finish your food, which leads me to believe that you were not as pleased as you appear to be.. As you can see, we have many

differences. Our relationship was simply not meant to be. I wish you a safe flight back to the States and best of luck on your future dining endeavors. -Akio Mia was now out of a boyfriend, all because of her poor dining etiquette.

So how do you prevent restaurant banishment, friend abandonment and a broken heart? One of the ways you can do this is to learn how to dine properly in the above Asian establishments. Hopefully, you can draw a few lessons from the above situations. If you somehow missed all of that, here are a few key things to keep in mind: 1. Never suck on your chopsticks and use the same end to serve other people food 2. Depending on which country you’re in, remember whether or not you should finish all your food 3. Hot towels are for your hands, not your face 4. Always, always, always fight to pay for the meal The next time you go somewhere overseas to eat, stick to these rules and you’ll probably end up better off than Jack, Peter, Kathy, Hannah and Mia. This is unless you’re eating at an Asian establishment in America... In that case, everyone abandons all rules anyways. Bon Appetite!

The Hidden Agenda

Asians Coming Out of the Woodwork by Kenny Zhu

On a lazy weekday afternoon as I recall, I was attending a lecture on American Politics and Government. Like any other self-respecting student, I was sleep deprived and dozing off to the soothing sounds of electoral debates and gerrymandering. Just as my professor bellowed something about the makeup of our voting pattern and I was on the verge of losing consciousness, out of a sea of yawning heads and half-attentive blank stares, a tiny voice cried out, “What about the Asians?”

It was then that the all-powerful Goliath beheld this tiny David with a slightly bemused look on her face. After studying him for what seemed to be an hour, her expression shifted from a look of amusement to a wide grin. The words escaped her mouth like a gust of wind, “Asians don’t really care about politics, they’re satisfied with just making money!” Sending the class into guffaws and hilarity.

It is not uncommon to note the lack of recognition for Asian Americans in politics. While numerous references were made to “Black”, “Latino”, and even the “Cuban” minority votes during the presidential elections, I can’t remember the last time anyone mentioned the “Asian” vote in paying attention to specific interests. Rarely is there any particular interest paid to the numerous Cambodian, Korean, or any group of AsianAmerican or Pacific Islanders as a whole. Even now, the Asian vote has been underrepresented and has remained that way for years. While Asians in general have been considered to have a huge role in our country’s political agenda, as seen over the past century with advances across the board in cases like United States vs. Wong Kim Ark and U.S vs. Bhagat Singh Thind, they have systematically been ignored in the world of politics. If we truly are to be represented in America, what is our responsibility as Asian Americans in politics? Where do we fall in this giant jigsaw of democracy? To some, Asian political apathy seems to be the case among the Asian Americans of our generation, with obvious reasons. The presence of an Asian political action committee seems to be small in comparison to those of other ethnic minorities. After all, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored Peoples remains one of the most powerful lobbies in Washington today. Roughly half of those who have the ability to vote in the United States don’t, and that’s alright. The United States is the worldwide champion of democracy; in addition to protecting the right to vote, it protects the right NOT to vote as well. The question then is, why does a group making up 4% of the total US population pale in political numbers compared to other groups? Immigrants across all backgrounds are likely to express some level of political apathy. Disregarding it altogether, many Asians read not the New York Times, but the Duowei Times; choosing not the Washington-Post but instead the Chosun Iibo at the newstand. Immigrants identify themselves not yet as Americans du jour, but instead as transplanted Chinese, Indians, and Southeast Asians that do not see themselves as having a stake in this new society. What happens here does not hold as much weight as what happens in the

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...what is our responsibility as Asian Americans in politics? Where do we fall into this giant jigsaw of democracy?

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motherland, because in their hearts they are still immigrants in a foreign nation. Language, cultural, and societal barriers inevitably enforce these divisions. It is not atypical for people to stay within the environment that they feel most comfortable in, resulting in ethnic communities. We are most comfortable with those we can communicate with; that’s a universal commonality.

Many Chinese Americans of the east coast started coming to the United States sometime from the seventies to the eighties. Numerous civil wars and conflicts throughout Asia led to the displacement of many Southeast Asians throughout many parts of the US. The new economic policies of the People’s Republic of China and other Asian nations resulted in hugely increased Asian immigration during that time. The numbers of already established Chinatowns and Asian American communities swelled throughout the United States. This story is the classic immigrant’s story. I recall a time when I worked as a busboy in the hot blistering confines of a Chinese restaurant. I was on my lunch break and waiting for the evening rush. Much like every other day on the job, I was tired and bored. The head chef, Zhang was a character, with a gold tooth, chains, and a cigarette behind his ear. We didn’t really have much in common except that we both originated from Shanghai.

He started off our exchange by commenting on my exceptional grasp on the Chinese dialect of Shanghainese, which he followed up with his much-appreciated commentary of how lacking my grasp of Mandarin was. For our purposes this conversation is a rough English translation of what transpired in Chinese. “So tell me why did you come to the States?” “Isn’t it obvious? There are no jobs back in China. I can’t find work back there. I didn’t have a college education like you have today.” “Isn’t it pretty much the same deal being a chef back in China?” “Let me tell you something kid. Even if I could get a job back in China, I still wouldn’t have it as good as I do here. The pay they give me here may not be that much but it’s enough to live on, and life in America is pretty good. Sure I have to work hard, but you have to work hard wherever you go. There’s no such thing as free handouts. At least in the US I can save up my money and help my son get an education here with it. There’s a lot more opportunity here than I can probably find back home.” “That’s all and well, but given the choice, where would you want to retire?” “I like it here and all, but my English just ain’t the same as yours. All I can do is be a chef. You guys got your whole life here, but Shanghai is where I grew up. After I save up some money, I’ll probably 18

go back into retirement there. It’s the place I’m used to kid, simple as it is.” All our differences aside, after talking to him for a while, I realized that his story was a lot like those of our fathers. In some ways for those of us who are children of this immigrant social group, we grow up without a true sense of identity. One divided between two worlds. For the rest of us, it’s a constant struggle to find a proper image of who we are as a group of Asian-Americans within this grand society. All soul-searching and self-defining aside, that doesn’t indicate that we aren’t participating in politics. A popular notion of Asians not being involved in politics is widespread, and some blame can be given to the media. Confused? Here’s the case: our beloved news networks paint the pictures of national events based on what they choose to air. News networks and journalists choose the focus of the agenda, where attention will most certainly be diverted to. What the media chooses to show the nation in terms of Asian Americans is close to nothing. Besides the Lunar New Year celebrations and therapeutic herbal remedies that Channel X health news loves to dwell upon, there’s not really much coverage at all. There are no mass political rallies to see on Nightline. When the media chooses not to focus on a certain group, politicians tend to follow suit. You have just observed public opinion being shaped before your very eyes. So what’s the beef? Are we not a “sizable” population base worth considering in the political

spectrum? Are we all a bunch of lab-obsessed engineers and introverted programmers? When immigration rates have never been higher and the first generation of offspring is taking their place in society as adults, I am perplexed as to how long it will take for us to lose these stereotypes. It seems that the media still considers Asian Americans to be a marginal political base, and whatever the media thinks is not worth their time the politicians won’t even begin to give a rat’s ass. Take a step back and check out the bigger picture. Many Asian-Americans have been elected to popular office across the United States. The media rarely focuses on the likes of popular local candidacies like Senator Bill Inouye of Hawaii, Secretary of Labor Elaine Chao (R), and Secretary of Transportation Norman Mineta (D). Congressmen like John Liu (D) of New York and Mayor Edwin M. Lee (D) of California have all taken levels of high office. Even family dynasties have been created in government like assemblyman Jimmy Meng (D) and his daughter assemblywoman Grace Meng.

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When the media chooses not to focus on a certain group, the politicians tend to follow suit.

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Organizations like the Asian American Legal Defense and Education Fund and the Asian Pacific American Institute for Congressional Studies are groups that strive to influence increased participation across all levels of political institutions. They have established their footholds within Washington and have their own lobbyists and fundraisers working around the clock on their behalf. They host summer programs and drives dedicated to increasing the scope of

Asian-Americans and Pacific Islanders within the government. We can even see it on a personal collegiate level. In addition to the major populations of AsianAmericans within American Universities, cultural organizations have sprung up in universities across the country. Asian-American fraternal organizations have chapters spanning almost every major college across the country. These organizations found get out the vote drives, and contribute to the quality of life on campuses. In many schools they are a major recognized force across campus. All this established base and what of it? Asian Americans are a small but rapidly growing political base. With 4% of population representation within the United States, the numbers when it comes to the polls are highly disproportionate to the number of those who actually vote. For one thing, many of these polls are conducted only in English and fail to account for the number of immigrants who though unable to communicate well, still follow American politics and make informed decisions by reading foreign language newspapers. Never make the mistake of assuming ignorance based on the lack of English ability. Nowhere is there more hypocrisy than in labeling lack of a grasp on language as lack of intellect. The future is always uncertain. But let’s take an educated guess shall we? Where do you think the level of participation in politics will go for those of Asian and Pacific Islander descent in the future? Being one of the groups with the highest rates for immigration in the United States, the Asian American group is growing, and within fifty years there should be major increases in participation across the board. That is not to say that those who don’t vote should leave it to their peers. Voting is a constitutional right, regardless of who it is. When you don’t exercise your right to vote, you silence yourself in the political spectrum. The Latinos have learned that and the African Americans have thrived on overcoming that barrier. It’s time for the Asian-Pacific Islanders to join the great party that is our American political institution.

A Brief History of

Rock in China and its Current Motivations Written by Edward Lu Every teenager in our generation has gone through a rebellious phase or a time when they tried to distance themselves from society’s norms. At a certain age, we yearn to discover self-identity and change, and as a result create our own coming-ofage stories. Likewise the same can be said about Chinese rock music, developing from a dissident society where the public is held over the individual. The defining ideals of Chinese rock and its origin is a story that we can all relate to. The current prevailing trend in Chinese music, by and large, is pop. From Jay Chou to Cantopop to the growing popularity of Korean pop, China's music scene is in general dominated by catchy hooks, ballads, and singalong tunes. There is an unimaginable amount of artists and groups that sing in Chinese, all having similar aspirations of making it big in the pop industry. What of rock music? Ever since Chuck Berry's timeless staples in the 50s, rock music in the United States has enjoyed periods of immense popularity, and the U.K. has had countless influential bands come up in heaps. When it comes to Asian music in general, rock has taken the backseat to pop. An independent music scene exists, but gaining popularity 20

often requires yielding to record labels' demands in image and sound. Breaking into the mainstream has not been the main focus of China's underground rock scene, but rather to reflect thoughts of China's dissatisfied youth and in the process emulate the popular British and American rock acts of the 80s and 90s. The roots of rock music in China are no different to that of 1970s rock music from Manchester, England. In the mid-1970s, the post-industrial grimy and ugly city of Manchester reflected upon its youth with a sense of dissatisfaction. “I don't think I saw a tree until I was nine. I was surrounded by factories,” recalls Bernard Sumner, the former guitarist of seminal British band Joy Division. Sumner and a few friends formed a band after seeing a Sex Pistols gig; they were taken by the harshness and politically charged vibes given off by the performance. Called “yaogun yinyue” in Chinese (literally “shake and roll music”), rock in China traces back to the 1980s. The emergence of rock is most closely associated with the Beijing native Cui Jian, who is commonly dubbed the father of Chinese rock. His style commonly reflected distinct characteristics, at least for his time. Specifically notable were his “pinched, rough vocal style; a

foregrounding of rhythmic elements, both in the accompaniment (which borrows heavily from Western Rock music) and in the melody […] lyrics often interpreted as politically oppositional in content; and occasional use of traditional Chinese instruments.” This style was increasingly followed by Beijing youths, whose “rock n' roll parties” vary by location each week and were spread by and large through hearsay. Cui Jian's primary listeners at the time were intellectuals and young, male blue-collar workers. The former would find

"Protestors found common ground in the sense of dissatisfaction and disillusionment the lyrics give off." interest in the political criticism apparent in his lyrics while the latter mainly enjoyed the aggressive sound of his music. During the Tiananmen protests his most popular song, “Nothing to My Name,” was used as a de-facto anthem of sorts, and Cui Jian himself even performed the song there. Protestors found common ground in the sense of dissatisfaction

and disillusionment the lyrics give off, which especially spoke to Chinese youth in the 1980s. Cui Jian's popularity reached its height here and it marked the beginnings of Chinese rock. Although he was banned from playing in major venues throughout the 90s, he also found a huge level of popularity with his distinct sound and lyrics in the post-Tiananmen era. Interestingly enough, though political tensions remained high during that time, his relationship with the government was not one of cat-and-mouse; his popularity essentially kept him safe although he treated his lyrics with more care. Cui Jian currently resides in Beijing, where government attitude towards rock music has become more tolerant. As a cultural force rock music has not taken China by storm. It still remains very underground; chances are if you asked a Chinese student on campus if they have heard of any rock bands in China you would receive a blank stare. But of course, popularity is not the main goal of the rock movement in China. In general the attitudes and patterns of rock music can be divided into the 80s/ early 90s generation and the mid-90s/00s generation. The former is “strongly influenced by idealism, heroism and individualism” and “they expressed their feelings and their mood within their music and used it as medium 21

"Artists remember why they became musicians in the first place: that is, they want to pursue a rebellious career, true ot the nature of rock."

of choice to criticize the social and political situation they're living in.” The latter generation, however, sprung as a result of wanting an alternative lifestyle to the standard model of success touted by Chinese parents everywhere, and is characterized more by its focus on technique and virtuosity as well as having influences from western rock. As rock in China becomes increasingly commercialized, artists remember why they became musicians in the first place: that is, they want to pursue a rebellious career, true to the nature of rock. Beijing-based band P.K. 14 (Public Kingdom for Teens) formed in Nanjing in 1997 out of a love for cassette tapes and a desire to “make noise” while the rest of the country was “busy making money.” While Cui Jian and his contemporaries did not have much of a forum 22

to broadcast their ideas and music, P.K. 14 hit jackpot when the Internet came along. Being able to have access to an increasing amount of Western music gave them more than enough inspiration to directly incorporate their favorite sounds into their music. Their music can best be described as urgent. With singer Yang Hai Song's panicky yelps and the other members' fast-paced instrumentation, they became the vanguard of a serious and energetic punk movement. Their sound is also punctuated by introspective lyrics. As an example of his writing about youth in urban environments,

Cui Jian, pictured here, is widely regarded as a pioneer in Chinese rock. He was born to a musical family in Beijing and was introduced to rock when friends smuggled in recordings from Hong Kong and Bangkok. Now, he's often labeled as "The Father of Chinese Rock."

» Beijing-based band P.K. 14 (Public Kingdom for Teens) formed in Nanjing in 1997 out of a love for cassette tapes and a desire to “make noise” while the rest of the country was “busy making money.”

consider some sample lyrics from “Some Surprises Come Too Soon.” “Your first meeting downtown now a blur Voices resonate from torn throats Mocking you behind your back The street sweeped spotlessly And you say to yourself, nevermind I won't be surprised again.” The above refers to adjusting to life in the city, which is difficult and often requires a thick skin to survive. There is a subtle tone of serious and examining nature, a direct result of growing up in modern China. Despite being a relatively popular act, touring in Europe and China extensively since the late 90s, their performances in China remained underground. They were limited to pubs and other independent venues. When asked what their goal of remaining underground was, bassist Shi Xudong stressed “sticking to our thing and not being controlled by all the commercial stuff.” Yang adds that they were born in the “Rotten Generation” of the 70s and 80s, a satirical term referring to how he believes his parents think of him. From an interview with James Bollen of U.K.-based Artrocker magazine, he shares his thoughts on the idea. You ought to refuse the mainstream. By that I mean we want to do our own thing [which is] neither for money nor to conform to a standard or value. I'm probably a nothing in my parent's eyes: [adopts nagging tone] “you haven't got a job, you don't earn any money, you're over thirty, you have nothing but you're still making music.” If you don't make money you're useless, they think you're rotten, you have no worth in this society. He breaks off, then adds defiantly, “then I will be rotten. Don't bother us and we won't bother you. We're not willing to enter your lives, we're not willing to enter your value system. We

have our own perspective.” The idea of parental disapproval when pursuing such a career is especially prevalent today, where finding a well-paid job is stressed more than ever in China's growing economy. Millions of students are struggling with the job market. As the number of degrees outstrips the number of jobs available, anxiety increases and China's youth become more disillusioned about their future. Yang himself was studying to be an engineer in Nanjing when he dropped out of school. He writes for a minority, wanting to prove that there is something worthwhile in being “rotten.” Even though the band has been around since 1997, Yang still maintains a youthful attitude, and puts himself in the shoes of the disaffected urban youth he writes so much about. When it comes to influence, Chinese rockers will readily admit that much of it is western. One of the most prominent acts in Beijing, Hedgehog, enthusiastically list popular British bands that formed in the 80s when asked what bands they would have liked to play with. They also state that much of what they listened to as teenagers were from

Nirvana's influence was not only limited to the United States and the U.K. abroad, citing Nirvana as a major example. In fact, the death of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain prompted writer Hao Fang to publish Radiant Nirvana: The Life of Kurt Cobain in 1997, which, coupled with increasing globalization and the onset of the internet, influenced scores of Chinese youth to form bands and revel in an underground scene. Especially notable was the Do-It-Yourself (DIY) work ethic that had come to define punk rock in the United States and which had begun to influence Chinese bands in the late 90s.

The idea of controlling their own path in any career – not just music – appealed to many young rebellious Chinese. The motivations of Chinese rock have certainly changed since its onset in the 80s. When Cui Jian and contemporaries were beginning to bring up political and social issues in their music, little did they realize what effect they would later have on young Chinese bands. The 80s and 90s were merely a breeding period for Chinese rock to truly develop, and these forefathers set the stage for a new ideal of Chinese music, that of self-motivation and self-expression echoing Yang Haisong’s “Rotten Generation” concept. Currently Chinese rock has much more outlets to spread their work, including the web-magazine Neocha, and Chinese bands are touring abroad more than ever. Music venues have sprung up in China over the past decade, several rock festivals were hosted, and an independent record label was also established. While major cities like Beijing and Shanghai still dominate the rock scene in China, other cities also have unique features, like Wuhan's punk scene and Tianjin's metal bands. Whatever the background, they all have one thing in common: their desire to rock out and, much like the western bands of the 70s, make their own marks on rock in China. And much like a teenager going through his

or her rebellious period, Chinese rock bands embrace an alternative lifestyle, one that our parents most likely won't approve of. “[We play] that little old thing called rock 'n' roll – the one with electric guitars, bass, drums and amplified vocals – churned through a Chinese dictionary.” – Yang Haisong, lead singer of Chinese rock band P.K. 14.

The

w Hyein Kim e i v ter ng & e Ta

enni by J

“We believe we can have a positive influence in this industry, and on our audience…and if we can do this, then we know we’re doing something right.” - Wongfu Website Wesley Chan, Ted Fu, and Philip Wang started out as three UC San Diego students making videos as friends. Now, as Wongfu Productions, they are an independent film production company that has earned their place in the hearts of millions of viewers. Although not their original intention, they now understand the responsibility they carry when millions of young Asian Americans look up to them. Their unique and intimate production style coupled with their intense drive to create empathetic and humorous stories makes for a strong case that they are at the vanguard of the independent filmmaker movement.

Phil: We’re – I’m Philip. Ted: I’m Ted. Wesley: Wesley. P: And we’re known, I guess, as Wong Fu Productions. We started making videos when we were in college at UC San Diego, before Youtube, and now we’re known for our short films and music videos and video blogs that we produce. And it’s very strange because we never set out to become “popular,” we just like to make stuff and, apparently a lot of people gravitated towards our work or whatever message we had, or themes or voice that we were giving, and now we have a fairly large fan base around the world and just trying to keep it going and positive.

So, can you be more specific on how you got the idea for starting Wong Fu Productions? P: The thing is that it wasn’t that specific. We were just making stuff for fun. I guess if you want to go back to the very, very beginning there’s me and my dorm-mates. This is before Youtube so making online videos was a very novel thing, and we were bored and we had a video camera and I was like, “Hey, let’s do a lipsync video,” cause one of my friends really loved this Justin Timberlake song because his solo CD had just came out. Senorita. So we made that,

and then we released it. It took like a long time, because we weren’t really focused on it, but then we released it, you know, [during] finals week, and it got around really fast because people were avoiding studying. And, yeah, just a small fan base started growing from those kinds of videos and then when we started working together it just grew even more.

It’s very strange because we never set out to become “popular,” we just like to make stuff.

T: Yeah, I think it got serious after we came back from our A Moment With You tour. A Moment With You was a feature film we shot, just the three of us, our senior year in college, and we went on a seven month tour around the country and Canada to screen the movie, and it wasn’t until the tour ended at month seven that we realized, “Oh, what are we going to do now?” So we definitely put our foot down and said, since we saw so many support from all these campuses and venues that we went to, we decided there’s no way we can stop, we just have to keep going. So, where do you guys find your inspirations for your videos? P: Life, you, people like you guys. Most of it’s just like life experiences, or, I mean, I guess we all have our own types of humor, like you know among your own friends. T: And if not our own experience, a friend’s experience.

W: I think, I mean I feel like you guys get into that question just by watching our videos, right? Like, you guys have seen some, hopefully. A lot of the stuff is like, “Oh yeah, I could have talked about that,” or “I’ve felt that way before,” and that’s primarily where it comes from. We just have to find ways to acknowledge it.

So, what ideas do you have for the future of Wong Fu? T: So 5-year plan or 10-year plan? We like this question because we lived it, we lived the experience, we kind of realized that these plans are useless unless you’re a fortune teller. Like, 5 years ago, Youtube didn’t even exist yet, so, if you asked us back then when we were just starting to make videos, “What’s your guys’ plan?” it would have been something totally different, so we kind of just realized, once you make the plan it’s going to change anyways, at least in our industry. Other industries are different, but for us we can have goals [and] guesses. I guess our goals are to keep creating content - we want to make feature films, we want to make a webseries, we have a t-shirt brand/line that’s growing really fast right now, we have a concert series that we started with Far East Movement. There’s a lot of different departments and I guess we just want to see them all grow and hopefully we can influence more people and reach more young people.

How do your parents feel about your career choices? W: I would say that on the whole we’re pretty fortunate, because our parents have seen how hard we’ve tried to make it work and that it’s growing. We’re successful in keeping the business going. In the beginning my parents, they always wanted me to be happy. So, in that sense, I guess I’m different from a lot of Asian parents who push their kids to do what they want, which is just to have stability from what they know but, they’ve always said that if you’re not doing what’s making you happy then what’s the point? With that said, I feel like I’ve been given a great privilege, so I have to live up to it and try my best. T: My parents just wanted me to be happy. I started college as electrical engineering and I switched when I found computer animation. I did that one summer

and loved it, so I decided to change it and I talked to my dad. He said, “If it makes you happy, then do it.” P: I think they want us to be happy, but it’s because they know that we’re not taking advantage of that privilege, it’s because we show them that we’re taking it very seriously, that we didn’t choose art as a cop-out major. Like when I first told my parents that I wanted to be visual arts they thought, “What are you going to do with it? It’s not secure,” and I gave them this whole spiel about, “You don’t know, I have a plan, art is still business so it’s kind of like I’m going in business.” But, now they see[...]how hard we work, they actually told us that we need to slow down, that we are hurting our body. I think they just wanted to make sure that we weren’t messing around, and I think that we’ve definitely proven to them that we aren’t. What would you say is the hardest part of videomaking? W: I think for Wong Fu Productions, the hardest part is juggling everything and finding out what we should continue to do and what we should’nt. Which avenues to explore more and which to not. W: Yeah, because we are – I’ll say this in the least cocky way - pioneers. We don’t have a track to follow. We don’t have a previous road to guide us because it’s a new field and it’s un-chartered territory, so we’re kind of putting out feelers out and seeing what works and what doesn’t. At the same time we’re trying to satisfy our own goals, and the audience, and this greater Asian-American expectation for us. So there’s a lot of stuff that makes it hard, but if it wasn’t a challenge, then it wouldn’t be fun. P: And for video-making, like the actual process of video-making, every stage has its difficulty. Like pre-production is really difficult when you’re trying to gather all the resources and schedule everyone together. The actual production, when you’re actually onset or shooting, is always difficult because it never goes according to plan, there’s always some sort of obstacle. And then post-production is a pain in the butt because editing takes forever. So I guess video-making in general is just difficult. What are your favorite videos and why? P: I don’t like any of our videos. I like different ones for different reasons, you know, so I don’t really have a favorite. For instance, so many people have seen Yellow Fever. I don’t think it’s the best produced film, but I’m

very proud it is what got around a lot and what a lot of people gravitated towards, but I wouldn’t say it was my favorite. I can see value in each video for what it’s brought us. You guys? W: I will say That Girl. I don’t know if it’s my favorite but, David Choi’s music video for That Girl, just because the song is good. I think it speaks to a lot of people, and I think the product was very refined and a solid piece. I like the work that we make where people will watch it either because they just laugh and feel good, or they just watch it and say, “Wow.” If they’re just speechless at the end, I think it’s something that you can really be proud of.

They’ve always said that if you’re not doing what’s making you happy, then what’s the point?

T: I think as the content producers, we kind of look at our work very differently from our audience. I feel like each short has kind of a milestone for us like, say, A Moment With You, which was released in 2006, a long time ago, it still has a lot of meaning for Wong Fu Productions because that was our first feature film. We just released Alyssa Bernal’s music video Cali, Cali, Cali. That’s a huge milestone for Wong Fu Productions because it’s our first artist signed to a major label, Interscope. So there’s that and small milestones in each project we work on. W: I think if you name a video we can tell you why it’s our favorite. That would work because, like Ted said, each one has its own reason.

How do you feel about all this attention that you guys have been getting? P: It’s still weird, because we really don’t feel that different from any of you guys. I think it would be different if we were performers, like if we were a singer or a rapper or a dance group or something, and it’s like, “Yeah, we have this thing that we can show off,” but it’s like, “We just make stuff,” and usually, the people that get the most acclaim are the actors. They’re the faces. But everything we do, the first thing everyone talks about is, “Oh, yeah, WongFu Productions! This was a great job!” but no one ever really talks about the actors in it. It’s very strange. Sometimes I compare it to like it’s as if we were musicians and each short is a song. I guess that’s the best way I can reason it to myself. But when we get stopped and stuff, it’s nice, we do our best to be nice, but it’s still very strange. P: When we first left college and were just getting recognized in restaurants people used to come up and say “Hi” and we’d always kinda shy away from it. And if we were with friends, like after the fans left, our friends would tell us, “You know, you guys come off like dicks when you act like 32

that”. I’m glad they were honest because we actually changed the way we interact with fans, because we thought we were being modest, like, “Oh no, we’re not,” but our friends made a good point. They were like, “These people are excited to see you. You should match their excitement.” What would you guys be doing if not film production? T: WongFu Productions isn’t just film production, it’s a lot [more]. Unless you mean what would we be doing if we weren’t Wong Fu Productions? Well, I don’t know if I’ll be doing this, but this is what I wanted to do, I wanted to be a 3-D computer animator, work on video games, make models. P: I don’t know, I think sometimes I feel like I’d be fetch job or a PA or something, getting coffee for real directors and being spiteful and bitter. I’m just kidding – I think I probably would have gone the more normal way of trying to get into entertainment which is getting an internship somewhere and started off getting coffee and trying to work your way up, I guess. Which isn’t such a bad idea. W: I wanted to do graphic design, and I applied

here(Carnegie Mellon). Didn’t get in. I heard it’s hard. I’m not one of them (Graphic design students), but I got in for architecture but not graphic design. So I went to UC San Diego and still tried to do it there but ended up taking a lot of film classes. But if I didn’t meet these guys, I’m pretty sure I would maybe be at some kind of creative agency doing that. Or maybe freelance. Can you tell us some of the lessons you learned from your experiences as leaders in the AsianAmerican community or the Asian community in general? P: I would say first that there definitely is a glass ceiling that needs to be broken. A majority of America still looks at Asians as foreigners, I think that’s definitely the case. I think it’s changing, and I think it’s a great thing, it’s slowly changing. And if we’re a part of that change in mindset, I’d be really glad. T: We’ve learned that there’s an amazing amount of support for Asian-Americans, or AsianAmericans that are in the arts, too. And that there are a lot of very talented Asian-Americans out there who are doing what we’re doing, or acting,

or drawing. Yeah, if we never did this, we probably wouldn’t have met a lot of cool, very talented people. And a lot of this is thanks to Youtube. I think Youtube definitely just totally changed the scene for AsianAmerican artists because it gave them a place to be seen, whereas before I think there was a lot of wasted talent that didn’t have any audience and could have had an audience. W: I think that we never tried to be leaders, and I feel like the leaders that people want to follow are the ones that don’t try to be. We’re trying to be who we always were and if they latch on to that, then it makes it easier for us, too, because we don’t adopt a certain agenda as soon as we know we’re leaders. We see that we have followers and we just maintain what we’ve been doing and lead by example. I think the fact that they latched onto whatever we represent just shows that something was definitely missing before, and us really believing that we’re just normal Asian-Americans is a testament to the fact that before there was normal Asian-American representation just for normal people. P: We’re just trying to maintain that normalcy I

guess and just keep people happy T: If I were to go back to high school and tell myself that I’d be doing this, it just wouldn’t make sense to me. It’d be like, “Wait, so you’re going to be a role model for people by making videos? And there’s a community that wants this to happen?” It didn’t make sense. But now it makes so much sense. Are there any conflicts between members and how do you guys solve problems? P: Contrary to what people may think, we don’t argue or fight or whatever, and it’s because we communicate a lot. I always make the joke relating what we have as a relationship, and they hate it, but it’s true, and communication is key when we work this closely, spend this much time together, you have to communicate,

Like what we do for fun? I play with my cat.

and there also has to be a lot of respect for each other, and it think that’s what it’s all rooted in, we have immense respect for each other and there’s no egos. I think once you get egos, that’s when everything falls apart, because that’s when one person thinks they’re better than the other or more right than the other, and that’s when you’re never going to get conclusions to disagreements and things like that. So whenever we talk, it’s pretty chill. So, what do you guys do outside of film? T: Outside of WongFu Productions, you mean? Like what we do for fun? I play with my cat. P: What is fun? I haven’t had fun in – T: I try to play video games when I can. P: There’s not much time [to have fun]. T: I like to go driving in the mountains, just whatever, go watch movies. 34

T: Everything I’m listing off we do very little, except me playing with my cat. P: I find a lot of value in just sitting down with friends and just talking, like over dinner, over drinks. I guess we do have hobbies, we just don’t get to explore them a lot. Like, you know, I like to play basketball but I don’t get to play like ever. Or like dancing. I used to dance in like college, but I never get to do that anymore. W: It’s tough, because I don’t have my eye on Phil and Ted and thinking, “How many hours did you put in?” and they’re not doing it to me – I don’t think. But it’s hard to take time to do those things when you feel like everyone is still working T: Well, we kind of work to the best of our ability. We work our butts off, individually sometimes, and just, once we feel like we’ve accomplished something, then we reward ourselves with something else. W: I like to travel. I think we all do. But that’s like the most satisfaction I get out of our world by going somewhere else. Where do you guys like to go? W: Anywhere. T: Traveling is great for creative people because it opens up your mind, takes you away from your normal setting. I go to NY a lot because my fiancé lives there, but when I go there it’s just like moving from an office desk to another desk, and, well, she’s there so that’s bonus. What are your roles in production for producing films? P: Oh, just the filming stuff? Because there’s only three of us and there’s so much to do in the business, we kind of all had to split our roles in terms of the business T: I handle more of the business areas of WongFu Productions, and running the store, and some tech-y stuff P: And usually Wes or me are the ones editing or shooting, writing or stuff. Kinda had to split it off that way. Who thought of Nice Guy designs?

P: I came up with just the idea to make that short, and then we were talking about how we could product place our own stuff, because we had made something before – like Yellow Fever, I wore a shirt in that and people were all wondering where we got it, and we were just like, “Dude, why don’t we make our own shirt?” and so we asked Wes to make the design. W: Three designs were made in one night and that has been the most popular one. And it’s not that much – a lot of thought went into it, but timewise it was right before we needed it. It’s just surprising that it caught on like that. The designs are fun. It’s hard to make stuff that’s cool but cute at the

same time. That’s the constant struggle that I have; something cute enough for girls to want but cool enough for guys to want. P: Ted keeps the store going, though. Like there would be no store if it wasn’t for Ted. We used to ship stuff out of our living room, it was a huge hassle. W: We used to individually note to each person that bought the stuff. P: Now there’s too many orders, so we have it somewhere else. W: We shipped the t-shirts in tubes that Phil cut himself, and then I would draw on each tube, a little picture. That stopped after about 50.

A Vision: A Story of Optometry and Goals by Charles Leung

That night, the sky was painted a deep blue with no stars to pierce the clouds. Only the lampposts at the corner of Forbes Ave. and Beeler St. lent their amber lights to break the darkness. Looking at the tall and heavy perimeter walls of the Doherty Apartments, the average pre-med student Mina Pi grew more and more tired as she stared at the light, waiting for it to change. Another man was waiting for the light to change, and she briefly smiled to him in acknowledgement Finally, the crosswalk light turned white. They both started to walk across the asphalt; Mina was a little ahead. Ready to take a break from the long day, she was eager to go back home. She moved a little faster. As she was about to touch ground on the pavement, she heard a loud honk and saw bright headlights gleaming. As she turned around, the sound of a collision resonated through the intersection. The person behind her was hit. Time itself appeared to stop. She was speechless. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Her dream was to save lives. A feeling of inability came over her and she had never felt so nervous.

Mina grew up in New Jersey and lived there for the majority of her life. Much to her parents’ joy, she made the decision to become a medical practitioner when she was a teenager. A promising child with determined attitude, Mina went to high school specializing in medicine and had her eyes set on going to medical school. She saw herself in the future as a pediatrician, in a white coat with a stethoscope around her neck, treating her patients with care. Her vision eventually led her to Carnegie Mellon University to study in their pre-medical program. She became part of CMU’s Emergency Medical Services team. She volunteered at University of Pittsburgh Medical Center (UPMC)’s emergency pediatric unit. She was part of a research team at the UPMC children’s department. She had her life laid out before her, until one day someone died before her eyes. “Hello? Mom?” Mina decided to call her mom a month later. She had to tell her. The dream she was following since high school did not go as planned. Maybe her mother would be okay with it. Mina had her doubts and feelings. As she began jogging on the treadmill, a soft and comforting voice came on the other end of the dial. “Yes dear?” Mina felt a lump in her throat. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t know if I still want to be a doctor.” Mina continued by telling her mother everything that happened and how she didn’t really know what she wanted to do anymore. Tears began falling down her eyes. “M.. Mom, I…” Before she knew it, a dial tone droned her voice out. Her phone had lost signal. Panicking,

she quickly got off the treadmill to find better reception. Mrs. Pi constantly called her, worried something may have happened to her daughter. After no success, she decided to call all of Mina’s friends, the school housing, and the local electricity company in the area. Thankfully, they finally got in touch. “What happened?!” her mother asked. Mina felt heart warmed and laughed at the uncanny reunion. Despite much lack of sleep, I was as alert as ever. My eyes darted across the room. The Saturday morning sun shone in the Baker Hall basement, lighting the marble floor. Today, I was meeting the founder of the Asian Student Leadership Conference. Of course I would be nervous. I wanted to be prepared when I interviewed Mina, who came back to Pittsburgh to give a keynote lecture on having visions. I was led into a small room by the ASLC escorts. “Oh! You look familiar; Have I met you before?” Mina curiously stared at me with lifted eyebrows. I replied with a nervous chuckle, “Uhhm, I believe we met last year at the pep talk you gave ASA before their culture night skit. I was the dead lion, hahaha!” We both laughed at the statement. About 5’4’’ tall, Mina wore a long grey tunic over a black shirt. Despite her small stature, she exhibited an experienced and confident atmosphere. Long black hair flowed down from her left shoulder onto her arm, which grasped onto a black notebook. Standing in front of me was Asian Students Association president of ’08 and founder of the Asian Students Leadership Conference. She started the conversation casually, warming the ice for breaking. I opened with the question, “How did CMU shape you into who you are today?” I wanted to hear interesting stories from her experience in college, and I received plenty. “I originally intended to become a pediatrician when I was in high school.” She recalled her experience volunteering at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, “I slowly discovered that I didn’t really like it. I hated seeing children really sick, dying, and with third degree burns. The atmosphere was too intense. Even as EMS I felt that students couldn’t really do much. For me, it was not a really good experience.” Mina trembled as the words came from her mouth. “During my sophomore year, something happened that really made my decision. I saw someone die before my eyes in front of Doherty Apartments. As I crossed the

street, all of a sudden the person behind me got hit by a car. I realized then, that it wasn’t for me. Being a doctor, needing to save lives just didn’t work for me.” The emptiness of the blue room made the distance across the wooden table seem much further; but even then I could see from her expression how intense the moment was. “I think the hardest part for me was telling my parents, because they were expecting. They didn’t really push me; it was something I decided for myself. I eventually told my parents that wasn’t what I wanted.” As she painted stories with her words, she would search through her notebook, occasionally jotting notes down. I held my unwavering attention as she created her scenes. I felt many Carnegie Mellon students as well as I could relate to this story. Many of us are unsure of whether or not our path is the right one in college. She drank some of her water and continued. “At the time, I was actually doing a research project with ophthalmology for children. During the project, I found that I had an interest in studying the eye. I heard about Mr. Rogers’ optometrist in Pittsburgh, and I really wanted to shadow him. I sent them and email saying, ‘hey, I wonder if I can shadow you’ and it just so happened that they recently let someone go and were looking to hire part-time students. I worked there for two years and I really loved it. The community, the patient care, everything; it was like family.” Reflecting on her experience, she added, “College is the most important time of your life. It’s when you learn the most about yourself, meet the most diverse people, and change the most.” After a short pause, I asked, “So what inspired you to take on leadership and start the ASLC?” Mina laughed, and then replied, “Everyone says that I’m the one who started it and I feel really embarrassed because for me, it’s just a 37

vision. You can’t carry it After a moment, I asked “As we try to adapt to college, out alone. I had a vision. I her my closing question. we tend to lose ourselves in the thought as students, we can “What advice can you do a lot besides studying. give to future student studying and the expectations The reason I wanted leaders?” Mina smiled and from parents. We totally forget to be president of ASA responded, “I really feel like to look into what we like. Most was because I had many encouraging students to just visions, and one of them of the keynote speakers, they’re like look back on to their was the Asian Student there because they followed their passions and why exactly Leadership Conference.” they’re in college. As we passions.” Mina’s posture asserted try to adapt to college, poise and experience. With we tend to lose ourselves a pen in hand, she motioned back and forth as she in the studying and the expectations from parents. projected her inspirations. We totally forget to look into what we like. Most of the keynote speakers, they’re there because they “There’s this huge east coast Asian leaders followed their passions.” It then came to me that conference called ECAASU (East Coast Asian having visions is a product of doing what you love. American Student Union), and every year we try to The will to take something to another level only go there but funding just so hectic. So then I asked, comes with passion. She continued, “Having visions why can’t we bring it here? Why don’t we plan doesn’t mean the vision has to be huge. Now that I’ve a similar leadership conference, especially since graduated and met a lot of people, I hope to write a there are so many Asian students in campus? The book in the future. I hope to lead a team to a rural conference would have students really look into country and provide eye care. I hope to record a CD. their cultural identity and find out what other leaders I hope to become an entrepreneur and start a charity are doing; this will motivate students to do better in life café. Learning about yourself and finding your school and be active. I felt not many students at CMU own passion can only happen right now, so you guys are active on campus; a lot of people feel college is should definitely take advantage of that.” about studying. There’s more to college than that.” About half an hour later, Mina was at the front of I had a nervous laugh on the inside. I myself am Porter Hall 100 Auditorium, giving her keynote guilty of being one of these students. She’s right. speech at the breakout session. With her eyes looking CMU is so diverse, and we may never have the ahead, she delivered her visions and her inspirations. chance to work with a multidisciplinary team again. Many student… no. Many leaders filled the seats. I’ve met engineers, artists, and writers here, yet many That didn’t make her nervous. I myself was inspired are caught up with the dark aspects of the college by hearing her story. She gave up her promise of life: the sleepless nights and the stressful exams are becoming a pediatrician to start over and become an not what CMU is about. The diversity of the students optometrist. Because she was doing something she here are definitely an opportunity one cannot find at loved, she was able to become a leader and follow any other school. She pointed her eyes skyward for a through on her visions. It made me realize, that doing moment. what you love is important. Many people cross out “The first step for me was sharing my vision. I shared their passions on their career lists because of wage my idea of ASLC with my board and wanted to hear comparisons and promise of stability. One can truly their insight. Obviously, if there are many people grow as a leader, by learning about themselves, and that against it, there’s something wrong… but most following their true passions. everybody was for it. In the end, the turnout wasn’t “Oh my gosh, I was going to this party, and I found that great; we only had about 50 people attending, this painting. It was like, you know the optometrist’s but definitely the speakers and the event overall more chart with the letters? There was one that said, ‘Do than compensated. We really felt like our vision of What You Love,’ and it made me SOOO happy! So ASLC was fulfilled.” that’s going to be my quote, ‘Do what you love.’” - Mina Pi 39

ALI WONG Written by Sandra Yeh

The young Asian woman peered from behind the curtains to watch a steady flow of people pour into the auditorium. Her heart swelled with some unidentifiable emotion at being part of the reason so many people had come to watch the theater group’s show. Years later, at the age of twenty-eight, she realized that was when she had fallen in love. She’s a small Asian woman who loves cooking but took her passion for comedy with her to New York to challenge herself and to become something more. Ali Wong first entered the world of comedy when she was in a theater group at the University of California, Los Angeles. Her experiences with directing, acting, and “putting butts in seats” developed her passion for entertaining others. Even though she isn’t some hotshot Comedy Central comedian, her appearance at the Asian Student Leadership Conference (ASLC) was a testament towards her success. Later, she sat down with an interviewer to describe her journey that led her to becoming the person she is today. The interview started with the typical line of questioning: how did you get into comedy? Ali smiled nostalgically as she recounted her time in an Asian American theater group at UCLA. “It was a theater

group that wrote, directed, and produced their own material,” she said. “It was very much... the same as ASLC [knowing] how to produce and put butts in seats.” When she was asked if it was hard to be successful, Ali leaned back in her seat to think. Her brow furrowed, she answered slowly, seriously considering her words, “You have to really love and be really good at it. Some people, no matter how hard they try, just—straight up—aren’t funny.” She shrugged regretfully. “Sure it’s hard, but… if you’re doing something you love… it’s hard, but it’s really not that hard. Raising your child is hard, but if you love your child it’s really not that hard.” The truth in these words was very understandable, especially for college students who devote an incredible amount of

"All these people that succeed -- they don’t worry about safety first; they just go out and do whatever they want." passion, focus, and motivation towards their work. Ali’s parents were just as accepting of this truth. “At first, they were really upset about it and discouraging,” Ali admitted, “but as I got more recognition, it really helped. I got into the paper in San Francisco really quick. And that got them excited like if they see me on TV. They’re really ‘whatever’ now.” But how did Ali become such a successful comedian? She explained that her strategy depended on how she was feeling, and she used those feelings to create her set list really quickly before the s h o w.

But for the students at Carnegie Mellon University, she had a special plan in mind. “My thought process,” she described, “was just, well, these students are gonna be shy. Start with stuff we could be comfortable with and making fun of CMU students and Asian stuff, then move into the dirty.” Of course, there is a limit to what a comedian uses to get the audience to laugh. Ali confessed that she avoided accents and racist Asian jokes, which was somewhat surprising since so many comedians use them for their jokes. “I don’t like accents, I don’t do them that well,” she confessed. “They’re not funny if they’re not challenging to me. They don’t provide any new insight into anything. It’s been done; I really don’t like it when people make fun of Asian women being prostitutes or Asian men being small. I really can’t stand any of that; it’s not funny, it’s cheap and cliché.” Clearly, Ali Wong has no desire to fall into any of the various stereotypical labels for Asians. She draws inspiration from people like Louis CK, Bill Burr, Patrice O’Neil, and Maria Banford. Before the interview closed, Ali gave some parting advice: “There’s a reason there aren’t a lot of Asian Americans in the media. You can’t wait for the media to come and grab you. You gotta go out there. I wanna get CMU students to get out there. You guys have the ability to do something here. Do something to put Asian Americans in the media. You guys should all get out there.”

Suon Cheng

From the Ground Up by Kenny Zhu

This is a man who has traveled the world and lived it, one who calls parts of Latin America, Asia and the United States “home,” and one who is international in every sense of the word. He is someone who ran away from home as a youth, went through periods of rebelliousness and difficulty in school as a teenager, and ran odd jobs as well as worked fast-food counters. He rose through the ranks of academia from a dilapidated community college all the way up to the grand halls of Harvard and MIT. This is a man who ended up with the position of a lifetime working at Google as a chief architect. This sounds like the epic saga of a hero that many can only imagine. But he is no superhero; he is merely a man who dared to pursue his dreams. The day of our interview was a rush of papers and people rushing from one room to the next. This was part of Big Straw Magazine’s contribution to the Asian Student Leadership Conference for what it was: extraordinarily confusing when it came to scheduling interviews in the right rooms. Adding to the chaos was the bustle of jumpy escorts herding their assigned speakers to their next showings. The entire place was a whirlwind of movement.

What I expected of Suon Cheng was someone about as high-strung as the entire ASLC staff put together. What I got couldn’t have been farther from the truth. The man who walked in exuded an air of calm and collectedness. He was neither a large imposing figure nor a man of miniature stature. With his easygoing personality in hand and a few jokes later, we got straight to work. Suon Cheng’s family relocated many times during his youth. He learned Spanish, Portuguese and English, in addition to his native Chinese. Identity crisis was an understatement to describe his sense of self. He put it this way: “At first for me, it was trying to assimilate and become one with the locals… Are you a foreigner or are you trying to blend in?” If he stayed in one location, it would have been a matter of learning the local culture and language and eventually fitting in. But for him, it wasn’t as simple as that. It would have been easier if his family did not relocate every few years just as he began to get used to the culture of his surroundings. This line of questioning naturally led to the issue of whether he ever wanted to call specific countries “home.” His face took on a faraway look as he dug through his childhood memories. “When you’re younger and not yet ten or

eleven, you want to belong, you want to feel that… hopefully we’re not gonna move again. You want to feel like maybe I’m Brazilian and you start to get comfortable. You really want to settle and belong.” Being unable to settle down comfortably in one place is a challenge for anyone, but for Suon Cheng’s childhood it was at least partially responsible for how he matured. Many could even argue that he was able to prosper and become successful in spite of his hardships. There must be some truth to the saying that our challenges shape us into who we are.

“You learn a little something from every interaction… even in a process no matter how mundane. It’s the experience of interaction with people that makes a transaction so interesting.” When questioned about his heritage he responded, “I was always reminded that you spoke Chinese at home and Spanish or Portuguese outside… It was at home where I came to the reality of where, oh I have this other part of me.” How difficult must it have been for a child to adapt to not only a new environment, but to have to do so every few years? The people around you do not even speak your same language and your face would always appear to be that of an outsiders’. For Suon, this was the struggle to come to terms with his own sense of identity as he grew up among faces that were ultimately different from his.

you.” Regardless of where he lived, one thing remained constant: “The different values in each country you went to all had some basic similarities — the rituals that Asian families go through. In every country you had to work three times as hard as everybody else because you never lived in this country. You had to take your values from place to place.” Nevertheless, it was a persistent struggle to face the stress of moving into a new home when he had just settled into the previous location. And above all else, his traditionally Asian household emphasized the need to succeed. A buildup of all these pressures drove Suon to run away to a high school friend’s place during his teenage years, where he also worked in a rental shop. “The constant pressures… When you eventually reached a limit of being passive and being told what you wanted to do. In my head there were all these factors that I wanted to explain and these challenges that weren’t heard very well by my parents… I caused a lot of pain through this decision. [running away] And I also did what I did. I regained control for my actions and my decisions.” By regaining control over his decisions, Suon managed to turn his life into something that produced extraordinary accomplishments. Despite having troubles in high school, Suon moved on to a community college and later a state school in the United

Despite Suon’s difficulties adjusting early on in life, he does attribute much of his fortune to the influence of his family. “In Asian American families they drone certain things into you over and over again. That background mantra that plays over and over in your head… Even if only for periods of time when they interact with you, [parents] really have an effect on 43

States. It was during his college years that Suon made the decision to pursue his dream of studying architecture. He followed this dream throughout the course of his education, which brought him to Cal Poly and eventually Harvard and MIT. In less than a decade, Suon achieved a complete about face, growing from a troubled youth into an academic success. In the working world, success after success at various architecture positions helped Suon eventually attain his dream job— working as an architect at Google. Our interview ended with one last question: what did he learn after going through life and overcoming so many obstacles? With a grin, he left us with a few parting words: “You learn a little something from every interaction… even in a process no matter how mundane. It’s the experience of interaction with people that makes a transaction so interesting.” His sense of diversity in culture and diversity in lifestyle shines through in the work he does today. As a Google architect, performing projects for clients requires great understanding on his part of various cultures and a knack for interaction with others. He recalled a specific project involving hospital construction: “I was helping to consult for the building of a hospital dedicated to combat veterans who had returned from Iraq and Afghanistan… To us a hospital would just be a hospital, but to veterans who had lost a lot during the war, it meant a lot to them. It would be the place they see as a refuge and can be very symbolic for them.” Combining his variety of experiences with determination and intelligence, Suon took what he learned from each endeavor and created his own prosperity. And despite his achievements, he still retained his self-identity — something that can be admired by anyone pursuing success.

Thank you, Superheroes of ASLC!

Final Word B

ack in the Spring of 2004, I was a postdoc in the English Department after finishing my Ph.D in Literary and Cultural Theory. I had spent the last five years or so turning my dissertation into a book that focused on U.S. imperialism in Asia and the Pacific. I had also been teaching courses on Hong Kong cinema and Asian American literature for several years. Students at Carnegie Mellon wanted the opportunity to talk about issues that mattered to them in their everyday transnational lives and were hungry for courses that dealt with contemporary Asian and Asian American culture. While there was a large population of Asian and Asian American students on campus, their cultural presence was mostly invisible, limited to yearly celebrations of “traditional culture” and of course food. While these forms of culture are important, they run the risk of reproducing rather than challenging stereotypes. At the time, I was, and still am, a big fan of the magazine Giant Robot. One day I woke up and thought, let’s make a local version of Giant Robot that reflects the trans-Asian/Pacific/American cultures at CMU. I also wanted the magazine to avoid stereotypical examples of culture and focus instead on the underground. CMU has a large population of otakus – gamers, anime heads, indie film freaks, etc – and I hoped the magazine would gaze at culture from the side and from the below. I brought up the idea in class and the students were down with it. I was lucky to have a class that possessed diverse talents; they really did all the work of creating, writing, designing, graphics, etc. We often met outside of class over bubble tea, and that’s how the name Big Straw was born. But all of our hard work would never have been realized without support from Indira Nair – she provided the financial and moral support that enabled the first issue to see the light of day. I’m overjoyed that BS has become a regular part of CMU life, and look forward to watching the magazine continue to grow and evolve over the years. John Eperjesi Founder of Big Straw