Overachiever Magazine: The Mixed Issue

With articles on: Biracial fetishization White privilege and losing it Biracial Asians in Western media And interviews with: CEO of Tasneem Cosmetics, Tasneem Shahidullah Musical artist, August Wahh Actor and dancer, Ciara RIley Wilson

Editor’s Note Dear OM readers, This is an issue I have been wanting to create since the magazine began. My staff and friends are probably tired of hearing me say diversity - but it’s just as much an issue in the Asian community as out of it! And in the push for diversity within the Asian community, all too often, mixed Asian women are left out, under the ridiculous statement of them not being “Asian enough”. It’s really, really quite simple: if you have significant Asian ancestry and identify as Asian, you are Asian. Not to mention the absurdity of saying someone doesn’t look Asian - with the incredible diversity of Asian women (look no further than the latest edition of Female Gaze for evidence), there really is no way to look Asian. To our mixed ladies, we don’t do enough for you - but this space is a start.

Yours, Rehana Paul Editor-in-Chief and Founder

Tasneem Shahidullah is the founder and creator of TASNEEM Cosmetics, a beauty brand focused on celebrating all types of people, cultures and colours.

Website: www.tasneemcosmetics.com/ Instagram: @tasneemcosmetics Facebook: Tasneem Cosmetics Youtube: Tasneem Shahidullah Kate Anderson-Song is on the editorial team at Overachiever Magazine. She is a NYC-based writer, artist, and performer, with a background in Cinema Studies & Drama from New York University. You can find Kate on Instagram @k8andersonsong and @thek8pages where she posts her art, and you can find more of her work (and tons of other great stuff) here at Overachiever Magazine!

Interview with Tasneem Shahidullah, CEO of Tasneem Cosmetics Written by Kate Anderson-Song

Introduce yourself!

My name is Tasneem Shahidullah and I am the founder and creator of TASNEEM Cosmetics.

Where did the idea for your company, Tasneem Cosmetics, begin, and how did you start making that idea a reality?

I started TASNEEM Cosmetics when I was 26 so roughly a year and a half ago. My reason to develop the brand was actually quite spontaneous, I’m a lover of makeup especially lipsticks and I would find myself mixing and matching different lip products to create the perfect shade and also formula. Specifically, I would love wearing a matte lipstick base and then topping it with a liquid lipstick because it feels and looks really hydrating but then would last all day. I would also get so many compliments and questions on my lip looks and I would always have to list so many products to people to explain how I achieved the shade or the texture. Then I started researching if there were any products that offered matte lipsticks and liquid lipsticks in one. Having done that research and not finding anything, I was like why don’t I just create this 2-IN-1 product that is completely colour matching, in a killer shade range for skin tones like mine and even deeper.

That then kick started the development process, which was extremely new to me, but super exciting to learn everything from scratch. The process really gives you a sense of patience and achievement.

Tasneem Cosmetics works to celebrate “all types of people, cultures, and colours” because of your personal identity as a South Asian woman - how did you come to the decision to center your identity and cultural inclusivity in your business? And how has it affected how your company runs today?

I’m Bengali Australian and British and I would describe myself as a complete mix of the 3 backgrounds which is really prevalent in the visual, tone of voice and product development of the brand.

It is important for me to focus on various backgrounds and cultures and also experiences, as for too long mainstream media and the beauty industry simply defaults to typecasting/stereotyping and even worse excluding people from being correctly represented and celebrated.

When people shop TASNEEM Cosmetics, I want them to feel heard and included throughout the entire process.

What would you say is your biggest accomplishment? Personally & work-wise?

Honestly, for me it would be starting TASNEEM Cosmetics and finding the self-confidence and drive to turn my passion project into a full-fledged business that promotes positive change and action in the beauty industry. Also the products are amazing so I’m pretty proud of the tangible too (lol not to boast).

Who inspires you? Do you have any role-models in your life?

I’m inspired by different people every day I don’t just have a select few people that I look up to. I’m inspired by the notion of tenacity and facing adversity and still powering through with positivity and hopefulness.

Your celebration of cultural inclusivity is so exciting to see within your business. What advice would you give other women who want to connect their identities and uplift diversity in their business endeavors?

GO FOR IT! It has been a really cathartic experience for me and I’ve been able to learn so much about myself and other cultures and people. If you genuinely want to embrace diversity, open it up to your business, think about it in every step from product development to who you work with and how you market your business.

Now, for some fun rapid fire questions!

Early bird or Night Owl?

Early bird, it is when I am most creative.

What’s your go-to coffee shop order?

Cappuccino with soy milk (eeehhkk I know soy milk isn’t that good for you but I love the taste).

Favourite comfort food?

All of them! (lol if I had to pick, it would be something spicy).

Anything you’ve recently watched or read that you recommend?

Lovecraft Country—Horror meets sci-fi meets civil rights.

Thank you so much for sharing your experience and work with Overachiever! Our final question is: what is upcoming for you?

Haha can’t give anything away just yet BUT be sure to follow @tasneemcosmetics and check out www.tasneemcosmetics.com for some exciting announcements in the near future.

Interview with August Wahh Written by Charlotte Drummond

August Wahh debuted in the late 2000s and has since become a force in the Philippine music scene, opening for the likes of Daniel Caeser, RAC, and Erykah Badu.

Born and raised in a militarized province in the southern part of the Philippines, August grew up around nature and danger. Being half-Filipino, half-Chinese, and identifying as Bisaya, she moved to Manila in 2007 to pursue her passion and calling in music and brought her a unique worldview shaped by her multifaceted upbringing experiences. Over the years, she has collaborated with a diverse selection of musicians from around the globe.

Charlotte Drummond is a part of Overachiever Magazine’s Editorial and Outreach teams. She is an Indian-American student and writer from Los Angeles, California. She is currently attending Emerson College, and studying Writing, Literature and Publishing. At the moment, she is working for multiple on-campus publications as a part of their writing and copyediting teams. In her free time, she loves reading, taking pictures of plants, getting emo over female singer-songwriters, and hanging out with her dog.

INSTAGRAM: @charlotte.drummond

Hi! My name is August Wahh. I’m a songwriter.

Introduce yourself!

How has your musical journey evolved over the years? What motivated you to start, and how has your music changed since then?

My musical journey has evolved - and still is evolving - with me, as I grow and mature. I guess it evolves as I grow up and become more self-aware. The R&B / Soul genre has always been a big influence since starting out, but I tend to explore things sonically as I take in new discoveries in life. I’d always been motivated to pursue music because of how liberating it is to express my inner world in a way that other people can vibe with.

How has your Southeast/East Asian background influenced your music/love of music and songwriting?

I’m not sure if it does, at least not consciously. But growing up with a traditional Asian upbringing, I would say that it built me to be driven and focused on goal setting. If anything, I worked harder to bring my inner world into existence. I was motivated to challenge the idea that I can’t do certain things because I’m a girl or that being a creative won’t take me anywhere. I was told writing music is just a hobby and that working a real job and getting married to start a family is the “sure way” to having a good life. That kind of upbringing affected me in a way where I became more resilient, more hard-working, and if anything, it made writing music more appealing.

Your latest single, “Hue,” which emphasizes the shades and “hues” of love reflected in yourself and in others. What inspired the vision behind this work?

“Hue” was written during lockdown, at a time when I was craving new experiences and new sceneries, but couldn’t have them because of the pandemic. And this resulted in me getting inspiration from my daydreams instead. In a way, being void of those experiences enhanced my imagination and creativity. And having the time to think and ponder on things, what came out was actually a reflection of what I wanted in my life and in my relationships. I thought about the people I have in my life and how I’m connected with them because I accept all of them, with no judgment and vice versa. I guess that’s what I was speaking about in “Hue.”

What do you think are the biggest challenges facing Asian women today?

From a Filipino passport-holders perspective, I’d have to say immigration is still a challenge! When it comes to my music, I feel it’s still hard to be taken seriously sometimes. Other issues I see women are tackling today have to do with outdated, problematic laws that oppress women. So I feel like a lot of the work is in breaking traditions of older generations.

You also have your new EP, Vivid, that’s coming out soon. Why did you choose the three tracks on the record—what do you love about these songs?

My team and I thought the order made sense. I’m not a control freak in deciding on what order my songs should be in. When it comes to the people I work with and trust, I’m very open to ideas. I’m sitting on a lot of material at the moment, and I have my team help me piece my songs into plans, into a narrative. There were a lot of ways we saw for the music to come out, but these three stood out together as something like a short story, and we saw a kind of character development and plot progression going on, lyrically and sonically. Hearing each song individually, written and recorded, made me feel a sense of focus towards who I was becoming. “Eyes,” “Hue,” and “Press Play” expressed different realizations and showed a part of me that I met during the lockdown.

What are some of the most fulfilling things about being a part of the music industry? What can be frustrating?

Sometimes the question of value, money-wise, is a frustrating thing to deal with.

Some people in the industry who book artists don’t know how to value your music, so they don’t pay you what you deserve - or think you deserve. The time and effort and love put into your art are often overlooked when it should be taken into consideration just as in any other field of work. Because so many artists are hungry to express themselves to an audience, it’s easy to capitalize on that hunger and, sadly, easy to be taken advantage of. But artists and creatives continue to strive to sustain their careers - the best thing about being an artist for me is simply being able to express myself freely, celebrate my creations on stage, and share that sense of liberation with others around me, with an audience that’s tuned in.

Who are some amazing Asian female artists you want our readers to check out?

You guys should check out Grace Nono and Armi Millare - these women have a voice that they use so powerfully. I also love Yaeji’s productions and .gif’s lyricism.

I’m finding more and more artists from this region, as more platforms and projects make music-digging more accessible.

Do you have any advice for the young Asian girls who want to pursue a singing career?

Be willing to go the extra mile. Pursuing your passions isn’t an easy ride. Let each experience teach you to be better and grow thicker skin. You’ll need it. Work smart and set goals. Most importantly, for artists that write music like me, just play and remember that boredom is your best friend.

What’s next for you? Any exciting projects?

Unlimited possibilities! We’re already working on releasing more music and expanding into more creative outlets. At this point, where the world is shifting, everything can be exciting.

Interview with Ciara Riley Wilson Written by Charlotte Drummond

Ciara Riley Wilson is a nineteen-year-old multifaceted actor and dancer raised in Portland, Oregon. At the age of eleven, Ciara began to pursue her passions in Los Angeles and went on to work on a variety of exciting projects from Disney and Nickelodeon (Bizaardvark, Henry Danger, It’s a Smackdown) to ABC (Speechless). Outside of acting, Ciara is extremely passionate about fashion. She enjoys sewing her own designs for photoshoots and red carpets as well as up-cycling thrifted pieces to help promote sustainability.

Social Media Links: Instagram: @ciararileywilson TikTok: @ciararileywilson Facebook: Ciara Riley Wilson Charlotte Drummond is a part of Overachiever Magazine’s Editorial and Outreach teams. She is an Indian-American student and writer from Los Angeles, California. She is currently attending Emerson College, and studying Writing, Literature and Publishing. At the moment, she is working for multiple on-campus publications as a part of their writing and copyediting teams.

In her free time, she loves reading, taking pictures of plants, getting emo over female singer-songwriters, and hanging out with her dog.

INSTAGRAM: @charlotte.drummond

Introduce yourself!

Hi! I’m Ciara Riley Wilson. I’m a 19-year-old actress, dancer, and fashion enthusiast originally from Portland, Oregon, currently living in Los Angeles. :)

What made you fall in love with performing? Are there any specific memories that illustrate the love you have for it?

Ever since I was little, I’ve always been a performer. I’d put on shows for my family so much to the point where my dad would say, “how can we get this girl on TV already?” I also grew up in competition dance, which definitely made me fall in love with the rush of being on stage. Looking back, there wasn’t a single moment, movie, or actor that inspired me to go into acting specifically. I’ve just never imagined myself pursuing anything else, and I’m so grateful for that kind of clarity at such a young age.

You’ve been on lots of different TV shows throughout your career. How do you get yourself comfortable on a set, and how do you approach each job?

The cool thing about acting is that every single job is different. Every set has a different vibe and process, so it’s difficult to approach each one a certain way. One thing that definitely makes me more comfortable is to try to get to know all of the cast and the crew’s names right away. The best part about sets is meeting the amazing people who run the show, so I make it a point to get to know them right off the bat.

When it comes to roles, I have a very academic approach to acting. I do extensive journaling and scene work to really get into the head of the character and create a diverse and multifaceted world where they live. When I know my character inside and out, it helps calm my nerves in a stressful set environment and reassures me that I’m completely prepared.

Not only are you involved in acting, but you also are an accomplished dancer as well as being a singer, guitarist, and fashion icon (seriously, your outfits are so cute)! Do you consider yourself a creative person, and why do you think you love trying all kinds of things within the realm of the arts?

Thank you!! That’s so sweet. I definitely consider myself a creative person and have drifted towards more artistic fields in every area of my life. I’ve also always approached acting as the study of life. To be good at emulating what it is to be human, you have to experience as much as possible. I guess that’s why I have so many little creative hobbies. I’ve always loved the arts and strive to experience as much or as little of every facet of it as I can. Quarantine has really helped me focus my creative energy into new outlets. Sewing & fashion has been my most recent and most exciting endeavor, and it’s definitely something I want to pursue further.

What are some of the most fulfilling things about being active in the entertainment industry? What can be frustrating?

The most fulfilling thing about being in this industry is the people you meet along the way. Filming the live-action Kim Possible movie a couple of summers ago introduced me to amazing friends I will have for life and people in the industry that I can lean on whenever. It’s incredible to be a part of something that so many people are collectively working toward. The most frustrating thing is the amount of rejection.

There can be years when you’re continually told no in every audition. Especially being Filipina, there aren’t a lot of roles tailor-made to me. But the moment you’re told yes makes all of the hard work and rejection worth it.

Who are your greatest inspirations in the arts and everything?

One of my main inspirations is Zendaya. She made such a flawless transition between being a child in the industry to a thriving and respected adult. She’s multifaceted (actress, dancer, fashion icon, and musically gifted), so she’s shown that you really can do it all and not be boxed into a certain category. I also really admire those who push the envelope when it comes to what people normally expect from young women. I’ve always looked up to Haley Kiyoko (also an Asian-American queen!!!)

Kelsey Karter, and Taylor Ortega. My work ethic is influenced by my mom, brother, and my acting coach, Cynthia Bain. I am also influenced by my inspiring group of friends in the industry who are going full force after their dreams.

As a Filipina and white woman, has your mixed identity ever felt difficult or frustrating for you, and if so, how have you reconciled those feelings?

I feel like this topic of mixed race isn’t talked about enough in the industry, yet it’s something I think about constantly. All throughout my career I’ve found it difficult to connect to my ethnicity because jobs are so rooted in looks. Although I am half white and half Filipina, I can’t pass as white. When there are roles for Asians, I’m often not seen as Asian enough. People of color are also often grouped together as the token minority character. I appear Hispanic but have refused roles that specifically call for it, as I would never want to take an opportunity from somebody who can genuinely relate to that culture. As for dealing with these frustrations, all I can do is have hope for the future of casting. I wish for an industry where more stories are written for people from all different backgrounds, and people can feel enough in their own skin. Above all, I always tell myself that there is a place for everyone in this industry, and I should never want to change who I am.

What do you think are the biggest challenges facing Asian women today?

Hands down, the biggest challenge facing Asian women today is the lack of representation in the media. Film and television is the most powerful tool to reach the world, and the stories of amazing Asian females can’t be respected if they aren’t heard. An article I read recently in the New York Times stated that Asian Americans represent only 1 percent of all leading roles in Hollywood. More surprisingly, over a one-year period, of the 242 scripted shows on broadcast, cable, and streaming TV, just one-third had a series regular who was Asian-American or Pacific Islander. These are statistics detailing Asian-Americans alone, not even Asian-American women. This issue stems from lack of Asian Americans behind the scenes as writers, directors, and producers who choose which projects are made.

Do you have any advice for the young Asian girls who want to pursue a career in the arts, whether it be acting, singing, dancing, etc.?

I would love to say to young Asian girls pursuing a career in this industry is to use the inevitable rejection that a career in the arts will bring as fuel for your passion. Perseverance is key in this industry! There is a place in entertainment for Asian-American women, and you are needed more than ever. If you never saw somebody in music, acting, or dancing that looked like you, be that person! I love you, and you are seen!

What’s next for you? Any exciting projects?

As for acting, you can catch me as Letti Remirez in the Bad Boys spin-off “LA’s Finest,” starring Jessica Alba and Gabrielle Union, airing Monday nights on FOX! On my social media, I’ve been posting a lot of upcycled sewing projects and tutorials. Follow my Instagram and Tik Tok (@ciararileywilson) to see my journey in fashion and design!

Artist: Vidula Karthikeyan IG: @flaunt.the.weird Title: untitled

Tasneem Cosmetics Review Written by Rehana Paul

Rehana Paul is an Indian-American journalist and food blogger. She founded Overachiever Magazine in 2018 to give a voice to Asian women from all over Asia, living all around the world.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to try out some lipsticks from Tasneem Cosmetics. I’ve been a firm believer in the magical powers of lipstick for years, and honestly, my only problem with masks is that I can’t wear lipstick in public anymore. Plague rats (read: anti-maskers), if you’re trying to take this as a license to not wear a mask in public… don’t. There are still plenty of opportunities to wear lipstick in the house, on Zoom calls, to impress your dog, or just to feel alive for a minute, and remember that there is something left to live for.

We took a dark turn for a moment there, but we’re back. These lipsticks are really unique in that they are both in bullet and liquid form! I used the edge of the bullet to line my lips, and the liquid to fill it in. I personally cannot apply liquid without a liner, I always “color outside the lines”, and it’s great to have a two-in-one. Another option is to apply the bullet normally, blot with a tissue, and then apply the liquid on top for lipstick that lasts all day. The staying powder of this formula is incredible; I am constantly drinking coffee, talking, and applying lip balm, and it lasted through all that and a croissant!

I sampled Viola, a brick-red, Wewak, a fireengine-red, and Ishtar, a smooth terracotta brown. I’ve been a sucker for red lipstick for years - I tried it out when I was 14 for the first time and never went back. My shade of choice was always Nars’ Cruella, but I think Wewak may have converted me. It’s the perfect, brightening shade for a Zoom date (or an in-person one, if you live outside the US and aren’t still living in constant fear of the virus). Viola is an excellent confidence booster. While Viola is a bright, pure red, Wewak has those blue undertones that make your teeth seem brighter, and your face a little bit less exhausted, which I could definitely use these days. If you’re looking for something a little bit more subdued, Ishtar is HERE for you. It’s difficult for me to find a cool-toned nude lipstick that doesn’t completely wash me out, which is something a lot of my Asian ladies struggle with. Our skin has yellow, almost golden undertones, so cool tones can sometimes make us look like, to put it lightly, we’re undead. Ishtar doesn’t play that. It’s the cosmetic equivalent of a blazer - it makes you look, and more importantly feel, polished, put-together, and professional.

I honestly adored these lipsticks. They’ve been added to my daily rotation, and whether I’ve got a class, a meeting, or am just flexing on Snapchat, they’re the first shades I reach for. Here is the link to shop the full line!

Eyes Pried Open by Kristina Robertson Crescent moon eyes gazing into the Red Lotus Sea, petals propagated by hints of uncertainties.

A lost American millennial, searching inside a mother’s womb for identity.

Face mixed with hesitation, hidden beneath a father’s redwood tree. privileged name yet mocked and shamed, blending fusion with confusion, presumed adoption is to blame.

A merciless small town, filled with slant-eyed gestures, stereotypes and slights cut right to the core until it festers.

I am a canvas, painted into a camouflaged question mark, a tsunami rippling through my ribcage.

Curves shaped into pink lotuses, freckles connect me into an exclamation point.

My crescent moon eyes meditate behind a reserved smile.

Bashful of my overbite, an oversight, but tonight, I fight, to just be.

Simply hers and his, mixed, without the division or betwixt amidst a lunar eclipse seen in my eyes pried wide open.

Half

Ostrich Ost Written By Leili Arai Tavallaei

The air is buzzing time passes and life is still warm skin knows nothing

۲۰۲۰年۰۸月۱۲日

〇 一 二 三 四 五 六 七 八 九 十 ۰ ۱ ۲ ۳ ۴ ۵ ۶ ۷ ۸ ۹ ۱۰ 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 It’s scary forgetting things I should know. sefr ichi nii san chaar panj shish shichi ate kyu da. #?電話 ばんごう は 何 です か ۲۰۲۰ 年۰۵月۲۹日 1 時 ۵1 分 AM

ハーフですか。

I once ran across a reaction to a poem. It’s strange to think that I’m exactly like this discovery, I’ve been filtered not once but twice or three times. I guess that’s what being 2.5 gen is like. I’ll get back to that in a minute. So this poem, I don’t connect with all the pieces of this source material, but I connect with everything in the reaction to the poem.

I’d recommend taking the time to read it before I spoil the good bits throughout this post. I’ll link it here. It’ll take you five minutes, promise, but it’s important to understand where I’m coming from before we proceed with my stream of consciousness. You might (read: definitely) cry. I cried. I am crying as I read it to formulate this post. And I’ll probably cry when I reread it in a few months for my thesis research. Sarah Heikkinen is the author of the reaction and Mary Hope Whitehead Lee is the author of the poem, it’s called “on not bein.” Sarah Heikkinen beautifully illustrates something I think many mixed kids feel, an absence. We all aren’t enough in varying degrees but when you’re mixed, man that “not enough”ness drives most of your actions. At least, it drives most of mine.

。ちょっと。。。母はハーフですから 私は二十五パーセントです。 ۲۰۲۰年۰۲月۱۴日

Let’s break down my mixedness shall we? I’m the eldest daughter of a post-revolution Iranian immigrant muslim father and a biracial / haafu christian mother. My mother is the youngest daughter of a white American army vet and an issei / Japanese expat mother. So that makes me a confused individual in terms of identity politics. Let’s also sprinkle in the fact that I grew up in the American south as a raging queer, just for added depth. My existence is at a thousand and one intersections and honestly, that weight is a lot sometimes. When I step back and answer the question “What are you? No really?” a part of me wants to divulge the depth of my mixedness, because I’m finally proud of it. But also f*ck you for asking, because my mixedness is worth much more than your passing (ahem racist) question. I exist between every label and it’s confusing and exciting and painful and spiritual and guilt-ridden and joyful and I finally, finally, think I’m starting to get it. Heikkinen asks “Why can’t I just fit in with the people I feel so connected to? Why can’t I just belong, and not have to exist in this f*cking weird middle space where nobody really understands how you feel because everybody experiences it differently?” And I think I’ve gotten to a point where that anguish doesn’t matter as much anymore. I have bad days, but I’ve accepted my difference. Not only have I accepted it, but I feel proud because of it. My experience is a singular anomaly but it won’t stop me from participating and connecting with my people (or at least trying to). And my people come from so many walks of life. They come from Vietnam, and India, and Puerto Rico, and Georgia. Their voices are sometimes covered in glitter and other times muddled by

smoke or even still, spoken in the beautiful timbre of mixedlish (well known variants are chinglish, spanglish, finglish, or pidgin). My people are all the people who have harbored these inexplicable feelings of otherness. People who are in between and who’ve felt the weight of absence, who’ve failed to fill it. I won’t be able to connect with everything they’ve experienced and I won’t need to because we still have the bond of not fitting in perfectly. So yes, I’m a haafu / mixed Iranian Japanese queer muslim from the American South but I’m also just Leili.

“Too westernized for the homeland too fresh for the brits.”

- Deba Hekmat

۲۰۲۰年۰۹月۲۰日

I’ll end this self discovery with a final (long) diary entry. Originally I wasn’t going to include any of these entries within this post. But I think they capture my inbetweenness much better than any of my coherent writings. Can you tell I’m a little obsessed with language yet?

あ いうえ お I’m learning things my mother was never taught.

I never called her baachan but now that she’s gone I find myself using words I never knew. What was your mom like? It’s been taken from me. We don’t talk about ourselves like that.

日本語をべんきょうしています。 I couldn’t remember 語 So I used google again. It feels like cheating. I’m so American. Some people don’t think I’m Asian.

「Acceptance inshallah」But it’s so far away and I’m impatient. Maybe they’re right. Dramatic I know but a part of me

dies when someone mistakes that, when someone sees yellow fever instead of a frightened scramble to catch even a sliver of what my grandmother once held. My grandmothers.

I’m lucky. No one ever called me a t*rrorist. No one ever called me a j*p or a ch*nk. But a morbid little voice in my head is begging to hear it so i can at least find another family instead of always being on the outside all the time. Am I on the outside all the time? I’m not anything yet I am something. Is it better to be beaten instead of iced out?

No. I hate feeling sorry for myself. I’m happy mostly but sometimes guilt swallows me. But i’m guilty for things I have no control over. I can’t blame myself for not learning about

まmaめmeまmaきki until I

was ۲۱ 21. Catching up is the only thing I can do so I’m gonna catch up.

I

get

sad

when

It’s

the

same

es

away

pain

I

realize

sadness but

it’s

I’ve

that

forgotten

fuels

washed

my

away

important guilt.

more

Time

than

things. wash-

that

too.

I’ve cried more than usual this year.

I’m longing for something that I don’t have access to. It’s lonely but there are more shotor So maybe I’m not so lonely.

‫ غرمرتش‬morgh than I know.

۲۰۲۰年۰۶月??日 〜 Translations

۲۰۲۰年۰۸月۱۲日

in

order

of

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

appearance.

2020 / 08 / 12

Note: In my day to day i’ve been using farsi numbering systems and japanese date markers. It connects me to languages I never fully learnt, languages that are mine but at the same time aren’t. It seems arbitrary at times and it’s something that only I can read for the most part (lol who reads japanese and farsi anyway??) but it makes my chest feel warm to know I remember something as small as numbers. Because if I’m being honest, I’m terrified of losing the smallest amount of my history that I’ve gained to the fallibility of memories.

sefr ichi nii san chaar panj shish shichi ate kyu da

. . . . . . . 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

alternating between farsi, japanese, and english

電話 ばんごう は 何 です か . . . . . . . . . . . . . . what is your phone number? ۲۰۲۰年۰۵月۲۹日 1 時 ۵1 分 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

2020 / 05 / 29 1:51 AM

ハーフですか。 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Are you half?

ちょっと。。。母はハーフですから. . . . . . . . . . . . . Um… my mom is half so 私は二十五パーセントです。 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ۲۰۲۰年۰۲月۱۴日 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Note:

I’m 25%.

2020 / 02 / 14

ハーフ read “haafu” is a Japanese specific mixed race term used to de-

scribe the child of a Japanese national and a non Japanese. I personally define myself as haafu because in the States the lines between mixed race terminology is blurrier and there’s less need to specify how Japanese you are. But in Japan your degree of distance from the nation holds value. This can be seen in terms like isei, niisei, sansei, yonsei, which translates roughly to first, second, third, fourth generation Japanese expat versus the general term nikkei. So while I’m haafu in the states, I found that while in Japan it somewhat confused people / gave the wrong impression. Was I haafu? Was I not? No one had an answer for me. And sometimes i regret my over explanations about it. Haafus in Japan right now are tokenized as having the beauty of the west with the sensibility of the Japanese. It was strange to be glorified for searching for my Japaneseness while also being separated from it because I was seen as palatably exotic.

۲۰۲۰年۰۹月۲۰日 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2020 / 09 / 20 あいうえお . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . AIUEO the first letters in the Japanese alphabet baachan

...............................

日本語をべんきょうしています。 . . . . .

Inshallah

grandma

I’m studying Japanese.

..................................

as Allah wills

まめまき . . . .

.................................

Mamemaki, a holiday to ward off demons by throwing roasted soy beans the night before Setsubun / Lunar New Year

‫غرمرتش‬

..................................

. . . Shotormorgh means ostrich; shotor means camel and

morgh means bird.

The ostrich cannot carry water like the camel nor can it fly like the bird. It is neither and yet is both and its place is unknown to it.

۲۰۲۰年۰۶月??日 . . .

..........................

2020 / 06 / ??

(In)Adequately Asian Written by L. O’Flaherty

Lily was born in North London and raised by her Irish mother. Having been brought up without her Japanese father, she grew up struggling to feel comfortable in her ‘hafu’ identity. Only in recent years has she begun to untangle the mess of emotions and identities that have been strangling her sense of self. This unearthing of her heritage coincided with her studies in archaeology during her undergraduate degree. She is currently studying science communication at Imperial College London and hopes to merge her love of understanding the past with communication.

Phrases that I feel best suit me are ‘whitewashed’, ‘fake Japanese’, and ‘a disappointment to my heritage’. I’ve spent most of my memorable life not feeling like I deserved to call myself Japanese or Asian. Throughout primary school, the other Japanese children - including fellow hafus - made it a habit to tell me that I’m “not really Japanese”. They told me I wasn’t allowed to eat Japanese foods, namely the onigiri loving made by my Irish mother who tried to give me some connection to my lost other heritage. Most notably, I remember being in my primary school library with my class.

As I put back my books another student came up to me and asked if I could translate a sentence written in Japanese.

I couldn’t. Or at least not fully. The girl said, “Ashley said you wouldn’t be able to”. It may come as a surprise that other hafu children were part of the bullying.

Even though they were mixed-race, they had their Japanese parent present in their lives - or they had a non-Japanese parent who had enough disposable income to send them to private Japanese weekend school (though even if my mum had been able to afford this, I’m certain I would have made every possible effort to avoid giving up my weekend). Their household culture and better grasp of the language allowed them to be Japanese. I was not. Though my mum tried her best as a single parent to give me

. I wasn’t raised to say, ‘itadakimasu’. I was raised to say, ‘never forgive and never forget what Oliver Cromwell did to the Irish’.

After primary school my relationship with Japan and Japanese identity continued to be rocky. I carried on learning Japanese throughout school, though struggled to feel comfortable and confident in a classroom of mostly white faces who seemed so much more in love with the culture that I thought I should inherently already be a part of. My indifference towards manga and anime only made me feel less deserving of calling myself ‘Japanese’ when I sat next to white classmates who spent their weekends watching and drawing it. Their attachment to that particular aspect of Japanese culture - the ‘kawaii’ that I’ve never felt comfortable in - somehow made my connection to the culture and my own heritage feel inadequate. I realised some years ago that I was berating myself for not measuring up to a cultural stereotype. And to one that I was not even raised in. I had to start forgiving myself for not being born in Japan, and for not having had autonomy over my country of residence as a toddler! That’s why films such as Big Hero 6 and To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before hit me emotionally. To see a character like Gogo, a woman of East Asian descent be a strong, intelligent badass - and not one wielding a katana or nunchucks - had me in tears.

Similarly, Lara Jean is a mixed-race East Asian woman, raised mostly by her white father who tries his best to keep some of her Korean heritage alive in their house; like my mother, with food. I had to wonder if Lara feels the same disconnect to her heritage as I feel to mine. If she too feels like she has had to measure up to some idea of Asianess which she has no control over. Does she feel ‘Asian enough’? The real tear jerker for me was that her crush liked her back - and not once was there a hint of fetishization!

ASIAN WOMEN CAN BE DESIRED WITHOUT IT BEING FESTISHISED?! This really felt like a rarity to witness in pop-culture. What both Gogo and Lara have in common is that their Asianess is not at the centre of who they are, or of how their stories unfold. Sometimes, I think, it’s good to be reminded that your relationship with your non-white heritage doesn’t determine who you are. Only you can do that. Having a more diverse representation of Asian and mixed-race Asians would be beneficial by showing our diversity. I can’t help but think that the times I’ve been misidentified as fully white, or as a different type of mixed-race POC is down to people’s inability to recognise East Asian features that extend beyond dark eyes and ‘slanty’ eyes. When these features are mixed with that of another race or ethnicity, they can get lost to an untrained eye which can only identify us by our hair and eyes. Even Asians have mistaken my identity and called me ‘white girl’ - though perhaps that’s more to do with gatekeeping the Asian identity. I also forgave my mother for not being Japanese, as a white Irish woman. It was never her responsibility to teach me how to be Japanese, or to show me how to navigate the world as a mixed-race woman That was what my dad should have done, and in the absence of him she did the best she could with the resources she had available to her..

In Reni Eddo-Lodge’s book, Why I’m No Longer Talking To White People About Race, she interviewed a mixed-race Black woman, Jessica. Talking about her experience as a mixed- race woman, she said “I used to worry about not being black enough, but I’m starting to feel that I’m part of the diversity of blackness. There’s more than one way of being black.” Just like being mixed-race is being part of the diversity of Asianess. There’s more than one way of being Asian. Despite the above paragraph, to this day I struggle deeply with my identity. Between the cooking of Japanese foods and my long-standing Duolingo streak, I can just about muster up the courage to admit I have some connection to Japan, without fearing immediate backlash from some unseen Asian gatekeeper (though that still does happen). I’ve been fortunate enough to have met some like-minded mixed-race Asians who reassure me that an on-going identity crisis is normal, and that you can still claim your mixed-race heritage whilst understanding that it is not your primary culture. Eventually I hope that I’ll be comfortable in my ‘hafu’ identity, but first and foremost I’m a Londoner. That’s where I’m comfortable.

Isa Cunanan

Title: “Make peace,� 2020 Medium: ink wash on acid-free watercolour paper, 5 x 7 inches.

IG: @isacunanan // W

Website: isacunanan.com

Title: “Art lives,� 2019 Medium: pen and ink on acid-free bristol paper, 5 x 7 inches.

On White Privilege and Losing It Written by Marina Sano

As a child I was never taught white privilege and thus was never able to verbally recognise it. But that didn’t mean that I didn’t feel it.

On trips to Japan, I’d be revered and awed at for my ability to speak English. My Japanese is fluent but conversational at best, primary-school-level at worst. So these same family members, friends, general members of the Japanese public, would be praising and fawning over my English, holding this particular skill in a level of regard I never quite understood, when I knew that this same ability to speak poorer Japanese was one that would not bring the same awe, and one that I thus hid from English-speaking peers without understanding why.

In that same vein, this proximity also caused difficulty. In Japan, I would be asked in a tone of reverence, if I was hāfu in a tone of reverence, when conversations with western friends only reached such a point if they saw my white father and couldn’t piece together that he had supplied half my gene pool. Despite my Japanese mother being my primary caregiver, I compulsively tried to hide her from sight in some vague hope that they may have seen my dad and view me as white only. I knew that to be seen as equal, I needed to be seen as the same, as white.

I did not realise that this was because of the privilege assigned to whiteness that my peers and I had been raised into.

In Japan, I was doted on and constantly complimented by family, friends and strangers, told how tall and beautiful I was. Despite the fact that in western society I am of incredibly average height and do not receive such compliments. The same features that marked me as negatively different among my western peers and family marked me as special. The global infiltration of white beauty standards meant that with half of my genes, I could be brought closer to this idealised beauty. But what I did not understand as a child, is that it is my proximity to whiteness that elicited these positive reactions.

It is this same proximity that confounded me the first several times I was asked if I identify as a person of colour. It was this proximity to whiteness that caused me in simultaneous waves of white guilt and internalised racism to answer no multiple times to this question. But it was my distance from whiteness that led me to ask friends for a second opinion, and that when asking western friends how I should answer, resulted in them responding that I’m not “Asian Asian” and given anecdotes about racism inflicted upon their other peers who were ‘truer’ people of colour.

Embarrassingly recently, I have been able to learn of constructs such as white privilege and the broader definition of a person of colour. I have been able to learn and find for myself these ideas and understandings that eluded me as a child and caused me twenty years of never knowing why I always felt like I was on the outskirts not knowing what category I fit into, even when no one else thought they were asking me that.

Being biracial, with the key element of half of that mix being white, is confusing at best and emotionally damaging at worst. Realising you are treated differently in different places but not having the vocabulary or ideological structures to actually explain or understand why is alienating and painful.

Growing up in a way that causes you to accidentally and unknowingly internalise constant doublethink and boundary crossing leaves you with questions in its aftermath.

Education can help ease so many of these pressures on individuals in a society that shows no signs of changing soon. Education can help us combat the indoctrination of these ideals globally, and it can help parents better assist their children in navigating these worlds that they cannot

escape, so that hey do not have to feel alone.

Being biracial often includes being white adjacent and this needs to be understood. But with your white privilege waxing and waning with the whiteness of those around you, it is not something I can afford to keep ignoring.

Written By Brianna Chu

Asian My Ambiguity and the Search for a Cultural Home

face is very ambiguously Asian. You can tell I’m Asian, but you can’t tell if I’m full or half, or what kind of ancestry I have; and this ambiguity plagues me wherever I go.

“Where are you from?”, “Where are your parents from?”, and “No, where are you really from?” are all questions I’ve gotten not only abroad, during the four years I lived in Scotland, but also at home in Los Angeles. So many people have asked me “what” I am…but I don’t really know myself. Even in Asian spaces, I stick out. Some Filipino folks have told me it’s obvious I’m “Intsik”—a somewhat pejorative Hokkien-borrowed word that colloquially means Chinese—but my Filipino side shows clearly enough when walking the streets of Taipei, receiving odd glances in my direction. In Filipino markets, clerks look surprised when I thank them in Tagalog. In Chinese

markets, everyone assumes I can’t speak Chinese. My lack of belonging to either cultural group makes me stick out like a sore thumb, and possibly as a result, I’ve had mostly non-Asian friends my entire life.

Both of my parents immigrated to the US in their mid-twenties: my dad from Taipei and my mom from Manila. I’d describe my father as part of the Chinese diaspora: his maternal grandfather was an academic in China, and both sides of his family fled China to Taiwan as Mao rose to power. As such, he considers Taiwan his home but also considers himself to be a “traditional” Chinese: glorifying traditional Mandarin, older Chinese culture, and pretty much everything that came before Communism came to China. He insisted I go to Chinese school for traditional Mandarin on the weekends from the age of five until the age of 14, when the school started teaching pinyin. At home, though, I never practiced speaking Mandarin with my father since my mom is Filipina; English was the main language in our house. When he first immigrated to the US, he had barely any money to his name and even less English proficiency. He still has a bit of an accent, and pronouns definitely still confuse him.

My mom, however, speaks impeccably fluent, unaccented (read: American accented) English and writes just as excellently, too. A fair bit of her closet comes from shops like Talbots. She’s integrated extremely well, to the point that Filipinos we know, like our hairdresser, will say flippantly about my mom: “Oh, she’s not really Filipino.” White folks have told her to her face that “she’s not like those other foreigners” or even that she’s “one of the good immigrants.” My mom excelled

at assimilating; as she puts it, she came to the US having already assimilated, having attended an American school while in the Philippines and consuming a fair amount of American media and products. So while I grew up around her sometimes speaking Tagalog, usually around family, I never learned myself. I spent Saturdays at Chinese school, and my mom never pushed me to learn Tagalog in the way my dad pushed me to learn Chinese. As a result, I can understand Tagalog well enough to guess conversations and respond to them in English, but if I had to string together even a basic sentence, I couldn’t. My aunts laugh anytime I say “salamat po” because I can’t even pronounce ‘thank you’ properly. I have a fear of trying to learn or practice the language because I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to speak fluently by this point. On the flipside, the exclusion and ‘othering’ I experienced as the odd duck out over about a decade in Chinese school—with only one friend there to speak of, who thankfully was more fluent than me and could help me out—makes me reluctant to this day to speak Chinese in any setting.

In both Chinese and Filipino spaces, I flounder from a basic inability to communicate.

Growing up, Chinese influences dominated our household: from celebrating Lunar New Year to the boxes upon boxes of mooncakes stacked in our kitchen in the fall to the piano my dad bought for me before I was even two years old. This power structure—other than following gender stereotypes—strikes me as almost reflective of both cultures: the imperial and authoritarian history of China juxtaposed with the long history of colonization that the Philippines has borne. The stereotypes of careers for Chinese and Filipino folks showcase the classist undertones between the two as well: doctors and lawyers

versus maids and nurses. From what I understand, both the Philippines and Tagalog reflect the colonial powers that imposed their presence upon the islands since the mid-1500s. Just looking at Tagalog as a language, you can notice influences from Spain, China, and the US. An uncomfortable part of growing up in my household was recognizing the inherent racism Asians hold, not only towards other races, but also to other Asians. Asia is a big continent, with a lot of different cultures, backgrounds, and faces. The colorism and the elitism holds strong, even to this day. My late paternal grandmother apparently disapproved of my mom because she wasn’t Chinese.

If you had asked me as a kid how I identified, I probably would have just said Chinese. But after spending a fair amount of time in Chinese-dominated spaces, I don’t really feel like I belong there. But my Filipino side? I’m not too sure I know what it means to be Filipino. And since my parents are both immigrants, I don’t quite feel American, either. I’ve never felt like there was any geographical place where I would feel like I was culturally home, and I think I might never find that place.

However, there might be another place for me to feel culturally at home. When I left the US to go to uni in the UK, I learned how to cook meals that reminded me of home when I was feeling out of place, and that food was inevitably Asian. I grew up with beef noodle soup and dumpling-making parties and adobo dinners and wrapping polvoron with my Lola. Miles and miles away from home, I realized where my closest connection with both of my heritage cultures lay: food. I bumped into my fellow Asians in the closest Asian market to campus, a mere

14 miles from the university town’s center.

There was wordless camaraderie in each of our thorough inspections of the familiar staples stacked on its shelves. Cultural societies established through the Student’s Union often had food sales of popular dishes, and in my last year of university, several Asian societies joined up to host an Asian food potluck dinner open to all students. More and more, I look to those moments in the kitchen, bursting with the excitement of making biko from scratch or nonchalantly eyeballing ingredient measurements for the sauce for cold noodles, as the place I feel most in touch with my inner Filipina or Chinese.

Female Gaze

“Hi, I’m Audrey, a Thai-American photographer based in Brooklyn, New York.

I love learning about other people’s mixed race experiences and try to capture all cultures and subjects with a collaborative, empathetic gaze.

My instagram is @ audreymelton.

I’d love to capture any more Asian Americans if any readers are interested in being photographed!”

Proprioception by Macy Summer Punzalan where are you from? by the beach

I was everything short of who I thought I wanted to be

I grew where the waves kiss the shoreline .

blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin,

“no, where are you from?” ––he’d add, with a toothy grin, wide and white.

beautiful.

from? my mother, her womb. my father.

exotic, maybe a token conditioned to believe in the wrong things about who I am because of who I am perceived to be by a stranger who strokes my “Japanese” hair, her mouth foaming.

I still hear her ask If I am a mail order bride.

from? Saigon, or what was, now fallen, my mother, tall in the wreckage, she is strong to have made a home here with my father satisfied, “I knew I saw something foreign in you” Did you see a reflection?

My round face, almond eyes that glint, caramel skin I never caught on the silver screen. at eight years old

they never said it could be me, only

she says that she knows where I am from: anywhere, but here. if I am anyone, at all I am not anything passed along this fine line between what is socially acceptable, and what is wrong.

I am not a target that you can pin down with the viral shame you have tried to create in me.

you bask in my culture but silence my stories, strut to make it your history. subtle, this display, perhaps it was yours all along. excuse me for blowing off steam, but after your vacation in China, “Are you holding your chopsticks right?”

I am going to scream. where I am from the top of my lungs: I belong here in this space. it is my own, too.

Biracial Asians in We s t e r n M e d i a Written

By

Tasia

Matthews

The lack of racial diversity in Western media is an ongoing pain point, especially when it comes to roles for BIPOC* (1). Thanks to the amplification of voices on social media, casting directors are starting to understand that the public desires more and more authentic representation, especially for racial minorities whose only roles thus far seem to be ill-fitting caricatures based on harmful stereotypes. But even though new media is being rightfully evaluated for its contribution or lack thereof to racial diversity and representation, there remains the clear presence of bias and colorism in Western media, where casting directors choose to meet the call for racial diversity by casting lighter-skinned or white-passing BIPOC. The reality is that white people tend to view mixed and biracial people according to their racial minority, thereby adding them to the pot of potential actors for BIPOC roles. In the eyes of the white casting director in Hollywood, the half-Asian, half-white actor is fair game.

This is not to say that every biracial Asian person is white-passing. Quite the opposite, as the physical diversity of mixed-race people is extremely varied. However, the white-passing biracial woman has a distinct privilege against other minority Asian women whose physical features are not so familiar to the white audience. Even with this advantage, a white-passing biracial Asian actress might not make the cut for white

roles, because their racial ambiguity makes it challenging for them to fully present as White. They can feasibly be an Asian person, but they cannot be an acceptable White person unless they can physically pass so well that their Asianness is essentially removed from them entirely. It often comes as a shock to people that Keanu Reeves, whose father is Hawaiian-Chinese, is Asian American, as so many of his roles have completely erased any semblance of his physical otherness. He has been in the industry for so long playing canonically white roles as a white-passing person that now he’s seen as just White.

So then what is the issue with casting white-passing biracial women of color (WOC) in non-white roles? The playing field for WOC is already so small, that now they have to deal with colorism from the casting staff further hindering their ability to find success. We then have WOC competing against white-passing WOC for a limited number of roles. Neither group can win, and this competition can foster dissatisfaction amongst minority actors towards their white-passing counterparts, such as actress Jamie Chung’s frustration at learning that Henry Golding, the male lead for Crazy Rich Asians, was biracial (which she apologized for) (2). Even roles that are canonically biracial haven’t been given to an actual biracial person (Emma Stone as Allison Ng, anyone?). This experience is worse for Black-Asian women, whose defining roles are fewer and far between. Just as white people view biracial people according to their racial minority, when a mixed person comes from two racial minorities, that view is often tossed up to the minority that is more subjugated. In this case, despite an actor being both Black and Asian, they will be confined to being ‘just another Black actor’, competing with other Black actors for Black roles. In many minds, Black-Asian people cannot play an Asian role, because Asians are not Black. Asia Jackson, a biracial actress and content creator of Black and Filipino descent, said this in a 2017 interview with NBC News: “I’ve only had one audition for a character that was halfBlack, half-Asian. With the roles in Hollywood, ‘Asian’ really means East Asian…South and Southeast Asians are often erased from the whole conversation when it comes to Asian representation”(3).

One of the most prominent examples of this was the casting of Naomi Scott, a white-passing biracial woman of Indian and British descent, as Princess Jasmine in the 2019 Disney live-action remake of Aladdin. This isn’t to disparage Scott, because she is clearly a talented actress who played the role well, and I was personally elated to see such a big role given to a Eurasian woman.

But something still didn’t feel quite right. There are so few roles out there that are canonically for a WOC that for Disney to have casted a light-skinned, white-passing Asian woman who questionably physically passes as Princess Jasmine likely meant that the opportunity was taken away from another Asian actress.

To take it a bit further, Scott’s performance was praised for bringing “more agency and less passiveness” to the original 1992 animated

version (4). This is in part due to the writing of the film providing more depth to her character, even giving her a solo where she sings about not wanting to be silent. But at the same time, the animated Princess Jasmine was not passive or unspoken. Despite Aladdin being given more screen time and character development as the hero, she is remembered fondly as one of the first and few Disney princesses who openly challenged her role in life. She pranked all of her suitors and ran off with a stranger, for god’s sake. I have to wonder if this sort of praise is partly due to Scott’s whiteness, and how much easier it is for a Western audience to digest a brown woman’s dissent when she physically presents as Western (read = white).

Is the only palatable princess a light-skinned one?

So how do we advocate for racial diversity in media, without biracial Asian actors only being able to ‘make it’ by taking roles that are potential opportunities for other minority Asians? As much as I also want to see myself on the screen, I have to acknowledge that the casting of BIPOC roles through a white lens pits mixedrace people and their corresponding minority groups against one another, contributing to Asian Americans being less likely to see biracial Asian Americans as belonging to their group. Just as East Asians cannot be the sole representatives of all Asian Americans, the casting of only light-skinned and white-passing biracial people for Asian roles should not be the half-hearted compromise we accept from western media.

But perhaps there is a way forward. In casting a large and realistically diverse group for a coming-of-age TV show focusing on the experience of an Asian American girl, Mindy Kaling’s Never Have I Ever is, to me, one of the most successful examples of racially diverse casting. Paxton Hall-Yoshida, the canonically half-Japanese love interest of the show’s protagonist Devi, is played by actor Darren Barnet who is – get this – actually half-Japanese. In intentionally writing in a biracial Asian character, Kaling created a space for a biracial Asian actor to obtain a role without infringing on the opportunities available for minority Asian actors. Although Barnet is white-passing, this intentional feature of his Asian background does not erase his biracial identity. Unlike Keanu, Barnet will not be whitewashed. With mixed-race people quickly rising to be the largest racial group in America, maybe it is time to look at Kaling as an example of how to promote biracial Asian representation without taking anything away from the Asian minority.

So, to the white writers and casting directors of Hollywood and beyond, hear me out. You have the ability to create these spaces. Biracial and white-passing actors – Asian or otherwise – should not be lumped into competing with BIPOC for representation because you are too lazy to recognize that the emergence of a significant racial identity means shifting expectations from your consumers. It is your responsibility to adapt to these expectations and to showcase the multiple authentic experiences across all identities and all colors of the Asian American spectrum. If you write and cast roles that intentionally provide access for a multitude of racial identities (or even better, if you hire BIPOC who tend to meet the demand for racial diversity more readily), you make room for biracial Asians and minority Asians to work alongside each other in your stories, rather than against.

Footnotes 1 *BIPOC stands for Black, Indigenous, People of Color. The term is inclusionary of all people of color while also intentionally acknowledging that not all people of color face the same levels of injustice.

2 Chung, Jamie (jamiechung1). “I am sincerely sorry about the ignorant comment I made earlier in the year. Hope to meet you one day so I can say this in person. I am truly looking forward to the movie and hope it’s a huge success so that...Hollywood and the powers that be will realize that we the audience are hungry to see more shows and movies that truly represent our diverse and colorful society. @henrygolding Hope you can forgive me.”

1 Dec 2017, 11:57 AM and 12:00 PM. Tweet.

3 Escobar, Allyson (31 May 2017). “Actress Asia Jackson Wants to Take On ‘Colorism,’ Redefine Filipino Beauty”. NBC News. Retrieved 29 May 2020.

4 Oleksinski, Johnny (22 May 2019). “Live-action ‘Aladdin’ is way better than its awful trailer”. The New York Post. Retrieved 29 May 2020.

Hands Like Mine by Jordan Nishkian Hands like mine

have pink palms,

are dark around

knuckles and cuticles.

They are creased,

foreseeing love,

a happy life, how many babies to bear.

Hands like mine

are soft, but not

without callouses

or scars from years of use.

They have raw

patches from picked skin,

divots from nails

clenched too tight.

Hands like mine

always choose “Other,�

and transition from white

to brown when writing their name.

They are pretty

for being exotic,

for being stained

by spices hard to say.

Hands like mine

claw at the whitewash,

revealing color

generations have buried.

They have dirt,

caked heavy

from the archaeology

of having cultures in America.

Insipid by Camryn Chew I wake in the dark Warped with implication And try to be what no one has told me I am yet It's no use I'm a stranger again I measure myself in how far I can break

Female Gaze Female Gaze Female Gaze

Julie Nguyen // IG: j.o.l.i.e.j.u.l.i.e “Model. Landscaper. Adventure chaser. Friend of the cats. Not talkative. But assertive. A kickthem-in-the-gut type.�

Female Gaze Reeti Roy

initiative called the Legislative Assistant to Members of Parliament (LAMP) Fellowship. I founded Aglet Ink, a creative content services firm that focusses on storytelling and research to help individuals and organizations with resumes, cover letters, linkedin profiles, speaking points, as well as strategizing for interviews.”

“I have a first degree in English Literature from Jadavpur University, Calcutta and a Master’s Degree in Social Anthropology from the London School of Economics and Political Science.

I was chosen as one of 40 young Indians to assist Members of Parliament in a unique

both/and by Melissa Cottle We are both/and people Seers of all sides Human bridges of connection Claiming “other� with pride We are both/and people Our identity is ours to decide On a journey of rediscovery

To B e S ee n A s I S e e Mys el f Wr it t e n B y S i e n a Iw a s a k i M i l b au e r

Last autumn, in a time before Covid, I was strolling the streets of Italy. It was my first time traveling outside of the United States. I was all by myself, with only a handful of memorized Italian phrases to aid me. And it was spectacular.

Japanese and half white isn’t one of the usual “pick a race” checkboxes.

Still, it is frustrating to be constantly perceived falsely. There’s little I can do about it, too. If I shout my ethnic heritage at every new person I meet, well then I’d be the rude one.

There were so many reasons to be happy, including long evening walks down centuries-old cobblestone avenues, brief but memorable encounters with fellow travelers and many incredibly gracious Italians, and enough gelato to satisfy even my ravenous appetite. Another powerful factor was that, for the first time in my life, I felt like I was being perceived by others as I perceived myself. Whether I was ordering enough pasta to feed a small village, or checking into a succession of charmingly shabby hostels, each person I met saw me first and foremost as a traveler. I think it was the dazed and confused look that gave me away. Or maybe it was the small suitcase that was practically attached to my arm. No matter. The point is that they thought I was a traveler, and so did I. We were in perfect agreement.

As irritating as these incidents are, I can accept them. Strangers are strangers for a reason. Their misconceptions might sting, but they can usually be swatted away like pesky flies. What cuts deeper is that some people who know my racial makeup, and who supposedly know me, still fail to see me as I am.

A friend of mine once casually remarked “I forgot that you were Japanese.” I wanted to ask them if they had forgotten that I existed as well. As the sum of my parts, I am incomplete if I am missing even one. So to forget a part of me is to forget all of me.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, did it make a sound? If a person exists as a multi-faceted blend of identities and no one sees it, does that person really exist? These are the questions that haunt me when I’m feeling philosophical. Then I get angry and I ask, what on earth is wrong with people? Why is it so hard for even those closest to me to accept my complexity, to cast aside the urge to provide basic answers to intricate questions?

This is not an experience I am used to. When you aren’t an obvious fish out of water, people tend to judge you by mundane and limiting labels, like race and gender. As a cisgender woman, I am privileged to not have gender dysmorphic events regularly inflicted upon me. When it comes I think it’s because we live in a world to race though, it’s a little trickier. that adores simplicity. It teaches us to make generalizations, to categoI am multiracial and look, for lack of rize and label and sort people into this a better term, ethnically ambiguous. box or that one. It teaches us to look People like to play a guessing game away when something challenges our with my race, which is a bit rude. Even neat and tidy assumptions. It teaches if they don’t ask me directly, I can us that if we encounter a person who see it in their eyes. They’re scrolling stubbornly refuses to fit into a box, through options in their head, almost we should squish them until they do. always settling on an inaccurate one.

It’s hard to blame them. After all, half Well, I don’t want to be squished. As

hopelessly naive as this may be, I hope to one day live in a world where no matter the context, I am seen as I see myself. Which is to say, a world that embraces the complexity that is me and the complexity that is you. After all, I am far from the only multi-layered person. My complexity might be literally manifested in blood and bone, but we are all full of glorious contradictions, the products of miraculous marriages of seemingly incompatible elements. We do ourselves a terrible disservice by tolerating a society that forces us to twist ourselves into knots to fit inside cages of easy understanding. Each of us deserves to sprawl free, in all our paradoxical glory.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, did it make a sound? Maybe, but wouldn’t it be nice for the tree if someone listened? So, let’s listen when people tell us their stories, and let’s look when people show us who they are. I think we’ll find that when we start to see others as they see themselves, instead of how we might perceive them within the limitations of our inevitably biased perspectives, our world will become a much more honest, vibrant, and compassionate place.

Female Gaze

Alyana Castro Alyana Castro is a half Mexican & half Filipina student who takes pride in her craft of journalism and marketing. She has aspirations to build her career by starting with the foundations of business and expanding her expertise in order to venture into a multitude of career ambitions. In her free time, she enjoys playing tennis, reading about fashion, and spending time with her family. She also enjoys meeting others and taking every opportunity to connect with the people around her. She hopes to dedicate her life to helping others and spreading positivity in everything she does. In the future, she aspires to have a solid platform inspiring many that

Fully Mixed: A Change in Perspective

Wr i t t e n B y S a r a R ö s c h

When I first started writing this article, I began recounting all the racist encounters I had with non-Asian folks in Germany. My classmates referring to the Onigiri (rice balls) I had for packed lunch as “smelly brains”, asking me whether I could speak Chinese, and telling me I was “pretty even though I’m Asian”. I would respond “I’m only half Japanese”, clinging onto my German side as much as possible. I thought about the amount of time I spent in front of the mirror trying to make myself look more White. Opening my eyes as widely as possible, flexing my nose to make it look taller, and biting my lips hoping they’d become thinner. It wasn’t a good look. However, something about listing all these negative experiences to highlight the struggles of being a mixed Asian didn't sit right with me. I felt like I was merely feeding into a collective victim mentality where I can bathe in self-pity. Yes, I experienced everyday racism and of course it wasn’t nice. Yes, I have had complications and frustrating conversations that I would not have had if it hadn’t been for my “confusing features”. Yes, I had to shut down White boys approaching me in clubs, proudly yelling they love Asians. But I refuse to be this poor little Germanese girl who’s only ever halfway there. Who’s 50% privileged, 50% disadvantaged and 100% confused.

Growing up in Germany, I didn’t quite understand the relevance of culture and belonging, I just wanted to make friends with anyone and everyone. I thought of my Japanese side as more of an added extra that allowed me to eat delicious homemade food, watch fun anime, and visit Japan once a year. However, the older I got, the more I started to despise every little thing that reminded me I wasn’t “fully German”. All I wanted was to fit in with my friends, so whenever I felt like I didn’t I became angry and frustrated. There was a time when I stopped speaking in Japanese to my mom because I hated it so much. Still, she made me attend Japanese school every Saturday. This meant I couldn’t have sleepovers with my regular school friends and had extra work to do. The older I got, the more I refused to go. But my mom was stubborn and kept saying “Deliberately skip Japanese school once and I’ll never let you go there again”. Somehow, that was enough to make me keep going. Because as much as I hated it, a part of me liked being around other Germanese people. It was one of the few places where I felt fully understood and accepted. Now, I am beyond grateful for my mom’s persistence.

Long story short, there was some sort of turning point. Many turning points, in fact. As a child, I wasn’t offended by racist comments because I was too young to understand. As a teenager, I was my own worst critic and neglected my Japanese side. One could say I was racist towards myself, which sounds ridiculous.

Now, at 22 years old, I am finally wise enough to choose to accept and embrace my mixed features instead of letting them limit me. I made the conscious decision to celebrate both of my cultures equally instead of choosing one over the other. It’s awesome to be multicultural. If people make stupid comments about it in the future, whether knowingly or unknowingly, I don’t want to get offended anymore. Why get offended about something that simply isn’t true?

Why get upset about something I am proud of? I don’t expect everyone I meet to hide their confusion when I tell them I’m from Germany without looking the part. I don’t want to get annoyed at people for asking me where I’m from.

Instead, I want to be able to have open, honest, and insightful conversations with them so they know better in the future. Without talking about it, nothing will change. I hope this piece contributes a little bit to that conversation.

EyeWr i tt e n B y J u l i a Poke. Slide the bobby pin under.

I’m doing it again. I furrow my eyebrows and contort my face as I stare back at my reflection in the mirror.

And I do it again.

Taking a deep breath, I take the bobby pin and slide it harshly under my hooded, epicanthic folds. Surprisingly, the action itself doesn’t hurt as much as my sense of self-worth. Is this what I’ve come to? Sliding bobby pins underneath my hooded eyelids, silently hoping that by tracing my eyelids insistently, they would come to resemble the thick, Caucasian eyelids.

Growing up, I constantly felt like I was lacking in something. My jaws didn’t soften around the English syllables, causing my words to come out jagged and awkward. I stumbled over my words in grade school, and at the weird glances from my classmates, I stopped raising my hand as often, keeping the rough syllables to myself. At lunch, I hastily swallowed Mom’s piping hot wontons and Chinese broccoli as fast as I could, thinking that the sooner I polished off my meal, the sooner I could ward off the dirty glances from my classmates. I tried to erase the Asian parts of myself, tucking away my Hello Kitty pencils and traditional Jade pendant necklaces in favor of Ticonderoga pencils and glittery Justice necklaces. I purposely fell behind in Sunday Chinese school, pretending like the Chinese syllables were foreign to me even though they comfortably rolled off my tongue. I sat in the back of the classroom, clutching onto my copy of The Magic Treehouse instead of the Mandarin workbook. Before I reached fourth grade, I stopped attending Chinese school altogether.

For a while, this pattern of rejection continued—I did everything I could to hide the most Asian parts of myself and replaced them

with scraps of American culture. The worst part was that I truly believed that I could reconstruct my identity until every trace of Asianness was erased from my skin.

In high school, I started experimenting with makeup. By then, I was old enough to notice that my features didn’t resemble my peers.

Experimenting with makeup was the catalyst that made me acutely aware of the nuances of my features and how they differed from my peers. Whereas my friends had pointed noses and deep set eyes, I had a flatter, smaller nose and uneven, hooded eyelids. I turned to mainstream YouTube makeup tutorials, ignoring the fact that the makeup techniques were geared towards those with Caucasian features. Drawing on eyeliner, it didn’t take long for me to realize that instead of accentuating my eyes like the tutorials showed, the eyeliner swallowed up my eyes. Frustrated, I would scrub it off and reapply the eyeliner, convincing myself that the next try would be better. I continued mindlessly, scrubbing at my tender eyelids, but with each try, I grew increasingly desperate. What was wrong with my eyelids? Why did my right eyelid fold over more than my left eye? Was the unevenness my fault?

Staring at myself in the mirror, the same feeling of lacking something resurfaced—I saw my eyelids as yet another thing that I lacked in comparison to my Caucasian peers. My eyelids were proof—no longer how much I tried to suppress my culture, there was no point in erasing it. After all these years, my “Asianness” would always stay with me even if I desperately tried to erase it.

It wasn’t until I read Ruth Ozeki’s memoir The Face: A Time Code that I truly realized that I wasn’t the only one who struggled with my “Asianness”. Rather than spending my energy suppressing the parts of myself linked with my culture, I decided to own up to my “Asianness”. I drew my eyeliner the way that suits my eyelids instead of Caucasian eyelids. I unabashedly ate my Chinese food in front of my friends, and I now regularly wear my jade pendants. So what if my eyelids are uneven? So what if they weren’t the size of Caucasian eyelids? When I look in the mirror, I no longer see my eyelids as symbolic of my lackingness. I see them as the parts of myself that are wholly unique to me.

Splat.

I chuck the bobby pin into the metal wastebasket next to the bathroom countertop. I don’t need it anymore.

Tainted by Mia Midori To be black and Japanese Ridiculed by your own people Name-calling, judgmental stares, mean glares I am dirty, tainted, impure The kids don’t want to play with you The parents can barely look at you They all avoid you Everywhere I go, it’s the same Keeping their distance from me Maybe they feel safer that way Does my mom know?

She seems to pay them no mind How can I? I’m tired of being alone and feeling left behind So I try and try and try but to no avail I can’t fit in I can’t make any friends They reject me They won’t accept me I can never be them Because I am a mixed Asian girl with curly hair and brown skin

Female Gaze Kristina Robertson IG: @kristina_robertson18 Kristina Robertson is a confessional spoken word performer and writer residing in Morgan Hill, California. She was a member of the San Jose Poetry Slam Team in 2009 and 2010. Her work has appeared in “Better than Starbucks, Not Your Ordinary Poetry Magazine” and was featured on a podcast publication for “Chopsticks Alley Art.”

Biracial Fetishization &

the World of Racial Breeding—

No, Mixed Kids Are Not the ‘Future of Diversity’ Written By Jessica Youen-Diggles

The fetishization of mixed-race peo-

mixed race, but when you reference

ple is an odd phenomenon seen in so-

someone as mixed race, most people

cial media and beyond. Let me fill you

already have an image of what that in-

in on the latest controversy: a TikTok

dividual may look like. They envision a

featuring a white woman, who, after

person with features that are associ-

scrolling through pictures of (ador-

ated with both races — a “soft” middle.

able) mixed white-Asian babies, flew

But phenotype isn’t always 50/50, and

to an East Asian country in search of

it’s harmful to impose that expectation

an Asian partner who could fulfill her

on biracial people. It furthers the idea

Pinterest-fueled, baby-fever dreams.

that, when a mixed individual “pass-

And, that’s exactly what she did.

es” or expresses features associated

If

with one race, they are “too much” of

the

creepy,

dehumanization, isn’t

one thing and “too little” of another.

too convincing, there are numer-

This is not only demeaning to the bi-

ous social implications of this fe-

racial individual that these comments

tishization of mixed-race children.

are directed at, but more important-

dog-like

breeding

factor

ly, to those of a single race, as well.

As a biracial girl, being of both African

American

and

Cambodi-

So, when somebody tells me, “You’re

with

pretty, you must be mixed,” I recog-

race is both unique yet shared with

nize it as a backhanded compliment.

an

heritages,

many

other

my

experience

people

who

struggle

with having more than one identity.

This is biracial fetishization, and buys into the notion that mono-racial Black,

I generally pass as Black or simply

Asian, and other women of color are not

enough — n ot soft or feminine enough,

our multiple backgrounds also creates

not “spicy” or interesting enough, too

disconnect. The feeling of disconnect

far strayed from “averageness”. It im-

is all too common among mixed peo-

plies that there are women whose ap-

ple. But in the world of fetishization,

pearance and identity are considered

this very issue manifests as privilege.

extreme on account of their single

When others are not able to identi-

race. As a result, they must be either

fy us with a singular monolith, we

“diluted” or “augmented” by the ste-

are perceived as less extreme, and

reotypical features of other races. In

thus, more approachable, attainable,

summary, the mixed identity is treated

and “neutral”. This is especially true

much like a Build-a-Bear workshop.

for those who are racially ambigu-

Scrolling

thousands

ous, or mixed with white. At the same

of images posted under ridiculous

time, we experience the exoticism

hashtags

that comes with being non-white.

through like

the

#BiracialBabies

#KardashianKids,

it

becomes

and ap-

parent that having racially ambig-

The truth is, this knowledge is not

uous babies is the ultimate goal for

new to mixed people. Mixed people

a number of people, to the point

tend to indulge in this fetishization,

where some people will simply refuse

knowing that it sets them apart from

to take a partner of their own race.

the mono-racial members of each of

This desire for racial ambiguity is the

their identities. And though belong-

intersection of exoticism (which, of

ing to multiple ethnic groups is defi-

course, is a form of racism) and priv-

nitely something to be proud of, we

ilege. For centuries, the “otherness”

must acknowledge the privilege that

of non-European women has been

comes with neutrality, ambiguity, and

depicted as seductive and alluring.

in some cases, proximity to whiteness.

These very concepts are the bridge

So when people describe multiracial

connecting fetishization and desir-

children as “the future of diversity” or

ability

and

indicators of a post-racial society, it

dehumanization. Most BIPOC have

is harmful to the children belonging

experienced this in some manner.

to a single race. They are being told

to

hyper-sexualization

that their fully non-white identity is Yet, for people of biracial identity,

one of extremism, that the future of

Female Gaze Shraddha Punja “Born and bought up in Mumbai and having lived in Singapore for years now. Let me tell you, stigma prevails equally in first world countries as it does in third world countries.

Mental health stigma is insidious and stigmatisation is pervasive. As a mental health expert, I thrive to create awareness with education, and without belittling someone for their conditioned stigma. I envision a society that knows the basic science of the human mind, to ensure mental health is never an option but an absolute priority.�

Clash and Burn by Kailani Tokiyeda // IG: @ kai.laniii We paint the skies a color of our own I see you light it with your tangerine tones My lemon drop colors drip onto the page Our vibrant little lives stepping up onto the stage I blend out the patches you see in your skin You accent my valleys, my canvas within I dream of a lifetime of color with you From the darkness of drawn to the trees’ leafy hue Sometimes when we fret, our colors turn grey We mix and we stir and we clash day by day But our fire burns bright, and we’ll turn to new shades It is in us to be colorful, to be rainbows portrayed Let’s make new colors from the colors we are But don’t forget, you, are the rarest color by

Phuong Linh Ngo

Title: “Home” Medium: acrylic paint on wood Artist note: “It is a divider which can be converted into a bench (self- built)”

Title: “I Am Gold” Medium: acrylic paint on canvas

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