(i am not just) "asian"

(i am not just)

“asian� a collaborative zine

photo from npr // submission by sam wong

(i am not just) “asian� // page one

"But you're Asian, does it really count?" (i am not just) “asian� // page TWO

Before You Assume,

written by Olivia Thomson

I was born in China.

I do not represent all Chinese people.

I have small eyes and short eyelashes.

I have thick, black hair.

I have pale skin with yellow undertones.

I do not have Tiger parents.

I was adopted.

I have a white, single mother.

I don’t know anything about Kung Fu. I love to eat rice or noodles.

I drink bubble tea.

I hate the term “model minority.”

I am strong and fast.

I am an athlete.

I am opinionated.

I don’t like math.

I barely speak Mandarin Chinese.

I learned Spanish before I learned Chinese.

I am from Seattle.

I am Asian American.

(i am not just) “asian” // page THREE

a•dop•tion(noun): 1. A body that is always a house, never a home. Eyes like windows with curtains that hardly let any light in. Heart like front door that is lock without key. Feet like foundation, like the neighbors know more about where it comes from than you do. There is a coat of white paint over the yellow on the walls. I am no longer Kim Hee Kyung. I am Amy. I am sweeter in your mouth. I am easier to spit out.

2. See: sunflowers grown in a vase of bleach.

3. See: shiny, jet black hair on a playground for blonde and blue and pale and normal.

4. See: nothing I ever asked for. A birthmark, head-to-toe scar that everyone winces at hen I stand beside my mother. questions with no answers. a girl growing in a vase of “what if”.” source: a.v., national adoption month for the almond-eyed girl (via spiritslyrics.tumblr) // submitted by kyle levin (i am not just) “asian” // page FOUR

It begins with a phone call

from my mother “are you dating anyone right now?” she asks “ummm no” I say with doubt “you hesitated, you’re lying!”

My mother knows me too well “well, I’m talking to someone” immediately she responds back with “what ethnicity is he?”

I knew my answer to this question would be critical “he’s latino” a vague answer that doesn’t even begin to explain how he identifies but one that would satiate her question “oh no” she says with dread “why don’t you try dating a white boy?” silence (i am not just) “asian” // page Five

i’m unsure how I should go about this question there are many answers so I chose one “I don’t want to date a racist” it’s truthful but not good enough for mother “not all white men are racist” “there are some good ones, you have to find them” “you dated that Mexican and he was an asshole still!” how how can you sit there and defend the white man? the white man who colonized my ancestors, the white man who forced my queen to give up her sacred land the white man who doesn’t even glance at me little does she know I’ve tried to appeal the white man to give him my love the white man does not want love from the brown girl the white man wants the woman someone who I am not no matter how hard I try (i am not just) “asian” // page SIX

to assimilate to ignore I am not a white woman and even the men who I see as my equal the men who I feel share a connection between the colonization of my ancestors only want my body I see them at the parties talking to the white women but behind the scenes they crave my brown body so either way brown or white man neither want my love the conversation with my mother continues as these thoughts race through my head “I know mom, but I don’t want to deal with that” she continues to defend the white man after every thing I say she still defends him finally I’m screaming at her (i am not just) “asian” // page Seven

“I DON’T WANT TO DATE A WHITE MAN!” (i am not just) “asian” // page eight

she stops “well I don’t want to fight with you sweetie” we exchange goodbyes say “I love you” and then hang up the phone i sit in silence and in tears trying to process what just happened what my mother said to me I’m left stunned how could she say that to me? how could she be so ignorant? how could she not understand me? how could she not hear the pain in my voice? how mommy? how written by Kady Valledor

(i am not just) “asian” // page NINe

DEAR WHITENESS / DEAR WHITE BOY written by Anna Zheng & Danielle Hirano

Dear white boy Who kept telling me I resembled his ex Even though our ancestors fought wars against one another Killed one another Dear Whiteness, i grew up with you, tried to hold you to be close to you. i tried to be your friend. i wished for an invite to sit next to you during lunch and share inside jokes with you, but you told me to go home and look in the mirror, and peel off my skin and bleach it with baby powder. (i am not just) “asian� // page ten

Dear white boy Who’s grandfather is third generation French Served in World War II A soldier, one of many Who came into my grandmother’s hometown without asking and Bombed the shit out of us When “little boy” touched the ground The atom split into two I wanted to split from your grip And get away from you But leaving the abuse The power This cycle Means mass destruction You think I am beautiful

(i am not just) “asian” // page eleven

We are beautiful goddess warriors.

My hair Is darker than the mushroom cloud Bleach my hair, dye it rainbow.

When did men think it’d be okay to touch my hair in Seattle streets?

My lips Redder than the blood you collected from thousands of wars Lips that travel crevices and valleys Of truths and intelligence that you may never travel.

I resembled your supremacy in my features My mother used to tell me To save money for nose surgery In the curves and dips of my body Which you colonized hundreds of times Which we’ve fought hard to love (i am not just) “asian” // page twelve

Fuckable, but never loveable (i am not just) “asian� // page thirteen

Hard to love: Hard to date.

Emotional aggression seen as a detriment to my own humanity, that anger isn’t valid enough for you to see because I may just be a doll for you: Docile. Obedient. Timid.

But let me tell you, I have long since had my mom put me in dresses and ruffle my hair.

I have long since climbed that wall that constrained me to palatability.

I will wipe my lipstick across my face and snip my hair to show you how fearless I am when it comes to sexuality.

God forbid that I have your child How do I tell her She is only the product of a fetish (i am not just) “asian� // page fourteen

Her being brings me pain She brings you burden Although you never nurtured her once And married that white girl But I love her Because you are incapable of loving a woman of color You have loved no one Because you could never love yourself Dear Whiteness, When freedom no longer lets us emancipate, we can only transgress.

I am a cup of bitter chinese medicine, Doused in rock candy, Choking in Imposter Syndrome, And searching for Home.

But this Home strips Me away from my familial blood.

Do you know what it feels like to (i am not just) “asian� // page fifteen

Talk to your mom, but feel Cantonese stuck like phlegm?

The pains of assimilation shown in the homes Of English fluency and Chinese brokenness Tell me that to travel two worlds, I must prioritize one.

“Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” (Chinese) “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” (English) Politicize. Theorize. my personal experiences.

Extotify. My body.

Seeing intimacy and vulnerability as an open door because you’ve sat in classes about Critical Race Theory and think you’re an exception That you somehow betray whiteness just by absorbing disembodied academic masturbation.

Does it turn you on to hear about the complexities of race and sexuality?

Do you get off with the confusion? (i am not just) “asian” // page sixteen

Dear Whiteness, TransgressiontransformationCollaboration with the self only seemed possible when I recognized the perimeters of the world changing me.

“Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” (Chinese)

(i am not just) “asian” // page seventeen

We are: no longer easy to please, no longer acclimating, no longer accommodating, no longer up-talking to the desires of palatability. (i am not just) “asian� // page eighteen

Dear White Boy,

I am *finally* leaving you.

Dear Whiteness, I am *finally* leaving you.

(i am not just) “asian� // page nineteen

(i am not just)

“asian” a collaborative zine

submissions from students in the Asian-Pacific Islander Independent Study during fall semester of 2017, advised by Sociology Professor Helen Kim all submitters identify as Asian-Pacific Islander (i am not just) “asian” a collaborative zine is an act of empowering the multi-faceted Asian-Pacific Islander experiences designed by anna zheng on indesign fonts used: myriad pro condensed and reitam (i am not just) “asian” // page twenty