who is left behind
I titled this zine “who is left behind” to reflect on when I have felt left behind within my own community, and times I have left others behind. I left North Carolina to go to school in New York City. In doing so, I left behind my mother, father, aunt, uncle, sister, grandparents, and more. In doing so, I left behind an Asian American community that had been looking after me even when I didn’t even realize it. This summer I’m working with CAAAV in New York City. I’m working with low income immigrants, refugees, Korean folks, limited English proficient folks. I’m working with people like my family who I left behind. I left North Carolina and am happiest when I am not in North Carolina because of my trauma. Who have I neglected by doing so? Who do my parents have to find community with, receive love and care from, besides each other?
Who do we leave behind while running away from our own trauma? Recently I’ve been pushed to think about how schooling and the education system has shaped my identity. I’ve thought a lot about how it’s almost always been in schools where I gained most of my shitty experiences with white people. I realize that these are both common and uncommon experiences. Asian people are everywhere and we experience wildly different things. As a kid I would’ve never given a second thought to how gang violence might affect my life. Others would’ve never given a second thought to driving through their own neighborhoods where people display the confederate flag proudly on their front doors. We come together with different histories. How do we move forward with weaving them together in order to build community and power? I want to reflect on my experiences more and validate how they have affected the person I am today - but not let it dictate the person I am today. It is simply a part of me, not all of me!
this zine is basically about my two moods growing up in the south it’s fine i’m chilling peace
it’s not fine let me leave lol
photo cred: my aunt model: me
anyways friends, let’s get to the trauma
growing up ASIAN in the SPOOKY SOUTH When I was younger I assumed all Asians in America were living life like me. And then I heard about C A LI F OR NIA .
Asian friends? Non-white friends*? What is BUBBLE TEA? (Or boba... sry CA friends, I know ur cringing) I had a fixation on California and other highly Asian populated areas for so long in my childhood. But it wasn’t even that I necessarily wanted to move to the 626 in California. I remember begging my parents for us to simply move to the city 40 minutes from my hometown because at that point I would’ve been happy with just one Asian friend, or not having to drive an hour to get to the one Korean restaurant in our vicinity. Once I reached the end of high school and especially after I started college in New York City, so many of my friends would look at me with a face of horror when I would tell them stories about growing up in the South - stories that were so mundane and common to me. To me, what seemed to be meaningless daily interactions were seen as small acts of violence I had experienced through my peers’ eyes. Maybe I preferred thinking of these experiences as “normal”, because thinking of them as violent acts made me feel victimized or weak. At one point I began denying my desire of wanting to have had a childhood in California, by telling myself that growing up in rural North Carolina was “good” for my political consciousness and personal growth because it hardened me. But I know now that that isn’t necessarily the truth. I am still really jealous of people who grew up with a community that looked like them and accepted them. I don’t consider myself a victim, but I don’t think I was really lucky either. I’m trying now to feel comfortable talking about my childhood and not constantly framing myself as simply a victim or victor. I both grew so much as a person from experiencing what I have, but it is also kinda unfortunate that that’s what it took. I also want to share my experiences out - and maybe everyone can begin to think about the forgotten Asian-American narratives. A narrative that didn’t grow up with boba lol
I asked my friends to caption this “...---... (morse code for SOS)” - fran “me n all my demons” -jane “me, when I moved to america” - atrianne “hehhehw” -alani “single boba ball” -matt
Yes. It started in preschool. Whenever there were “What is the meaning of your name?” activities in school, my presentation would always be a little awkward, cause it goes like this:
preschool isabelle
My white woman preschool teacher did not know how to pronounce my name, Yeleen, and so instead of trying a little harder to pronounce the kid’s god dang name, she asked my mom for an English name. My mom liked this French actress named “Isabelle” so yeah here I am. Isabelle.
My name is 이예린. Probably since I was 8 or so, if my class ever had a substitute teacher I would approach them before class began to ask them to say “Isabelle” instead of Yeleen when they called my name for role call. Surprisingly, I don’t think it was simply because I was embarrased by my name, although that was definitely a part of it. I hated when my white classmates would butcher the shit out of my name and then laugh at it like it was some kind of meme. Like, okay Sheldon Sylvester. I am definitely the meme here. I’ve thought about going back to Yeleen at some point like some people with “ethnic” names do, but also... I realized that sometimes it’s not that deep. Isabelle or Yeleen, either is fine with me now.
kindergarten isabelle Okay this story is going to be a little yikes. So my elementary school always had these nice young white women college students from Elon University come to my school to be student teachers as a part of their education program. In kindergarten this little white boy spit in my eye and I told my nice white lady student teacher about it and then she told me not to be a tattle tale(!!!). I felt super betrayed in that moment like I literally had spit in my eye but sorry I guess I won’t tattle again. Yeah so I never really trusted the student teachers from Elon ever again and I always felt a bit of FOMO whenever our class would get one and all my classmates would get so excited for a new friend, and all I could think about was the time I was betrayed with spit in my eye.
fourth grade isabelle Skipping forward to my dark ages. Around this time all of my white friends dropped me (I think because I got ugly lol.) ((I’m like 91% sure that’s why)) (((Or maybe we just all grew into our racial consciousness))) My closest friends then were Mexican, but none of them were in my class because I was in the ““““accelerated”””” aka rich white people class. So basically I always felt super alone. And so I was really excited for our class field trip to Philly where I would spend 4 days with my BFFs!! No.... I wasn’t :’) So on this field trip I was assigned to this friend group where all these girls were friends with each other and their moms were all friends with each other because they probably did joint barbeques in their picket fence grassy backyards together after playing a round of tennis at the local country club. Anyways, on this trip we were at some kind of shopping/tourist center and the moms and classmates literally ditched me lol. I was wandering around alone in some mall in Philly until my teacher found me and was pissed. This was the same teacher I cried to after being followed around at recess once by random boys using racial slurs. For the first time ever in elementary school I finally trusted and felt protected by a teacher, so shout out to Ms. Curran.
but tbh jokes on my fourth grade enemies cause ya girl got a pink nintendo DS after beating all ya’ll asses at the spelling bee. yeah i’m looking @ u white boi who couldn’t spell the word bagel. bzz bzz bitch
seventh grade isabelle In middle school I confided to my friends that I was bullied and felt ostracized due to my race in elementary school. It was a big moment for me, since I never really spoke to my friends at school about this as I was too busy trying to assimilate to their whiteness. I was then told by one of these friends (who was the only other WoC in this group) that our white friend had confided to her that she thought I was lying about it. I remember crying immediately after hearing this, feeling betrayed and completely denied of my lived experience. I think this marked the moment of when I felt like I couldn’t fully trust and befriend white women as friends - friends that I truly love with my heart and soul, not just acquaintance level friends. While it might sound petty on the outside, this was a long time coming of betrayal, desertion, and ostracization by white girls for me to lose my trust in these friendships. Aaaaand I was never friends with white boys lol. They threw a bottle of hand sanitizer at me across the room once because I defended my white friend against another white girl that for some reason they were militantly protecting at the ages of 11 and 12... Cause she’s pretty?
why i’m thinking about this This summer I’m a part of a fellowship on Asian American community organizing and civic engagement with Seeding Change. I spent a week in Berkeley, California, meeting all the other fellows and learning from some really amazing people with varied experiences. And although the orientation was extremely meaningful to me, it has also made me feel the most isolated I have ever felt in a while. At one point I questioned how I could sit inside a room full of people who look and think and feel like me, but will never fully understand me, specifically my relationship with whiteness. I grew up surrounded by white men who carry guns in their back pocket, bared open for everyone to see like a constant threat reminding me and others to keep our mouths shut. White people in positions of authority have made me breakdown in public and have let me become bullied and ostracized by my white peers since I was young. I barely have any patience left in my heart for white people who commit any level of violence against any people of color. I don’t think it’s my responsibility to help or teach them. But this is not a shared feeling across communities of color, and the Asian American community... And that’s okay. That’s what having a community is all about, right? We fill in each others’ gaps when others simply don’t have the emotional, mental, or physical capacity for something. Because we love each other and envision the same change, despite our different strategies and energy. At this point I think a lot about how lucky I am that I moved to New York City for college, and to have become a real part of a community that loves and nourishes me. But I wonder at times what would’ve happened if I hadn’t made that move. I wonder a lot about my parents and family I left behind.
Around half of this year’s Seeding Change fellows are from California, my childhood dreamland. Additionally, a lot of Asian American organizations are based in California or other cities with large AsAm populations, so it makes me think about all the Asians who are left behind in this movement. I would argue that these isolated Asians who are left behind need to be remembered and prioritized. Honestly, I don’t even know how my family ended up in North Carolina and why my parents and grandparents decided to immigrate there out of all the possible cities in the U.S.. But that isn’t the problem. The problem is that these people are left out to dry with absolutely no access to resources and communities to help sustain their lives here. Some older immigrants have that striking resilience to fight through every battle that comes their way, but when I think of Asian-American youth who grow up with no real connection to their home country or to their immediate environment that invalidates their existence - who’s there to support them? Who is there to show them that they aren’t alone and that they belong to a greater community?
special thanks to My MOM, who sent me all the photos of myself that were included in this zine. I gave her an oddly specific list of yearbook years and she came thru, thank u for entertaining my hobbies. Danica, who made me feel less alone in Berkeley and also (probably unknowingly) pushed me to think about why I avoid and am so afraid/sad about NC. Heavy shit. Alani, you didn’t really do much this past week in my life (lol) despite exist as my friend but I’m thinking of u just cause I know you will always be there to listen to and provide rants on white people in a way no one else can. Seeding Change fellows! Cause ya’ll have really challenged me to self-reflect and just dig up my past and question everything. It is kinda stressful ngl but also I feel a lot better now. Also thanks for not saying the word ‘trauma’ our last night together that was wholesome.