UAAO Zine Ed. 7 — Queer Courage

ABOUT THE COVER

The cover is a compilation of media, mythology, and typography that celebrates the beauty of queerness in terms of Asian culture.

NOTE FROM THE EDITOR

Through this zine, Queer Courage, the United Asian American Organizations (UAAO) wants to uplift queer Asian American voices. Mainstream LGBTQ+ spaces often have not provided room for people of color. As an organization focused on supporting the Asian American community and furthering equity in the world, we seek to offer queer Asian Americans the opportunity to engage in a space that we have historically lacked. But at the same time, we also hope to pay homage to queer Asian American activists of the 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s — a generally underrepresented history. Calls for submissions to queer anthologies exist across items from UAAO’s digital collection at U-M Library. By sharing the work of queer Asian Americans in print today, we echo our past.

Like all other editions of UAAO’s zine, this zine has been made with so much time, love, and care from everyone who worked on it — the zine team, con-

tributors, and members of UAAO’s 2022-2023 Executive Board. As you read Queer Courage, I ask you to think about history and the role zines have played in our world. Think about how they have brought people together across states and across oceans. How pages full of writing and art create community, bound together by staples or glue or the creases of folds.

With love, Chelsea Padilla Editor-in-Chief

TABLE OF CONTENTS

QUEER HISTORY

INTERVIEW

queer Asian American activism creating community: queer Asian American publications in the ‘80s and ‘90s reflections of queerness in michigan and the modern authentic expression — Mori Rothhorn

Angelica Noelle Fandino

SUBMISSION

Yoon Kim discernment — Melodie Wong

ching chang chong — Julia Zhou

notes on the scales of sexuality (a column) — anonymously submitted

untitled— Sara Fang

selected poems — Rojin Shirwan 24

frequent occasions — Esther Park

untitled— zeyuan hu

selected poems — so jung shin

ugly things — anonymous

another time — anonymous

self control (borges) - frank ocean

— Yoon Kim

stray dogs — Gina Liu

a clumsy ritual (of place)

— Mira Simonton-Chao

phantom — Sonia Xiang selected poems — Aditi Khare

CONTRIBUTORS

queer

QUEER ASIAN AMERICAN ACTIVISM

WRITTEN BY SANIA SRIVASTAVA

History is constructed. The narratives we recognize today come from accounts of people who once decided them important. But unfortunately, countless communities and

stories are lost to time in this struggle to record and preserve what people want to remember.

One such community was the LGBTQ+ Asians in the 19th century.

With the first immigration wave in the 1850s, many Asians — primarily men — settled on the West coast, searching for employment. Most of these immigrants came from countries where there was a widespread acceptance for same-sex sexualities and intimacy.¹ As they also brought their cultures, they often conflicted with the American heteronormative narrative of the time. A lot of being an Asian queer at the time was navigating this struggle — to voice their identity in an environment that wasn’t listening. For example, many of the Chi-

nese men resided in ‘Bachelor Societies,’ where they lived in close proximity with other men. But with historians in the 19th century viewing queerness as morally wrong, these housing conditions were phrased as just “sharing the companionship and responsibilities usually dispersed across a family unit,” mislabeling their real stories and relationships.¹ Another such example was how San Francisco Chinatown’s majority of females were prostitutes. With such a high prevalence of sex workers, both females and males, Chinatown established itself as an entertainment district at the time that attracted many queer individuals from across the country.¹ However, history only remembers it on an old color-coded map: green for Chinese prostitutes, yellow for opium dens, and pink for

gambling houses.² The place and the people in it were merely reduced to a ‘bad neighborhood.’ And due to this image, many historians — especially Asians — simply erased, or worse ignored their perspectives.

But even going beyond written history, and coming from a social perspective, many immigrants had to trade their identity for a ‘better life in America.’ For the Asian LGBTQ+ community, that meant a lot more to give up due to their intersectional identities. Racial and heterosexual divides became much more prominent in the late nineteenth century when the idea of ‘civilized’ families’ started emerging.¹ A perfect family became defined by the standards of a heterosexual white woman’s marriage that still plagues today.¹ And as it became the mainstream idea, immigrants started conforming to these values to be accepted in the white man’s America. Also regulations such as the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 created a sense of fear among the residents — it was scary to be ‘deviant’. As Suyeoshi and Yogi said, “As same-sex sexuality in America came to be per-

ceived as deviant through the 1930s, the Japanese American press also represented queerness as troubling, creating a mirror in which Japanese in America increasingly viewed white American values about same-sex sexuality as their own.¹ Even those who opened up about their sexuality found themselves entrenched in this narrative. One example is Kosen Takahashi, which can be found in San Francisco’s earliest Japanese American newspaper. While he openly declared himself queer and in love with a man named Charles Stoddard, Takahashi was also engaged to a woman.³

But even in such circumstances, many individuals managed to define their identity through their accomplishments. Margaret Chung for example was the first American surgeon of Chinese descent. Chung is often remembered for supporting Women Army Corps, establishing the Women’s Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Services (WAVES), and more — all dressed in men’s clothing.³ Also speculated to be in a relationship with actor Sophie Tucker, she was known for both her parties and

her kind spirit in serving the soldiers across the globe.³ In an otherwise oppressive society, she managed to speak volumes by choosing to lead her life the way she wanted. And just like Chung, many Asian LGBTQ+ members found themselves trying to find the best fit in the situation, and slowly making a place for themselves in history.

SOURCES

Final Project, 21H. Student-8-A-Brief-QueerHistory-of-Asian-Americans.pdf. Accessed March 15, 2023. https:// history.mit.edu/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/ Student-8-A-BriefQueer-History-of-AsianAmericans.pdf.

Schulten, Susan. “This ‘Vice Map’ Shows San Francisco before the Pour-over Coffee Bars.”

The New Republic, March 16, 2023. https:// newrepublic.com/ article/118508/map-sanfranciscos-chinatown1880s-shows-brothelsopium-dens.

Sueyoshi, Amy.

“BREATHING FIRE: REMEMBERING ASIAN PACIFIC AMERICAN ACTIVISM IN QUEER HISTORY.” Essay.

In LGBTQ America: A Theme Study of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer History, 11–12-11–38. Washington, DC: National Park Foundation etc., 2016.

Artwork by Aditi Khare

CREATING COMMUNITY: QUEER ASIAN AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS IN THE ‘80S AND ‘90S

WRITTEN BY CHELSEA PADILLA

A lot of the inspiration for this zine, Queer Courage, was inspired by ads seeking written work for a lesbian and bisexual women-focused anthology nestled in old Asian American student publications from the 80s and 90s at U-M. When I stumbled upon these ads myself, I was immediately excited. I’d never heard of a collection like this centered on Asian Americans in the present day, so it felt really unexpected to find evidence of one in an archive. I remember taking a picture of the ad to send to my friends and the rest of UAAO. The ad itself was a small, rectangular box that took up only a quarter of a column. Bold text at the top of it read, “Call for Submissions: An Anthology of Writings by Asian Pacific Americans Lesbians. Deadline: Dec. 15 1991.”

This anthology, primarily edited by Sharon Lim-Hing, ended up being published as “The Very Inside: An Anthology of Writings by Asian & Pacific

Islander Lesbian and Bisexual Women” in 1994. Looking up the title on the Internet reveals that the anthology is over 400 pages long and features about 100 pieces of writing written by individuals from East, Southeast, and South Asia.

Although “The Very Inside” is definitely a massive, significant collection, it’s not unique in its focus on queer Asian Americans, even for the time. Alongside queer liberation movements, many different newsletters, magazines, and anthologies created by queer Asian Americans began to circulate across the country in the 80s and 90s. Through the circulation of these publications, queer Asian Americans were able to achieve a sense of community and support, which was incredibly vital at the time, considering that the Internet was nowhere near the same level of operation as it is

today.

One of the most well-known newsletters is Trikone, which started as a newsletter and eventually became its own magazine under the same name. Trikone was founded by Arvind Kumar and Suvir Das, two queer South Asians, and was dedicated to LGBTQ+ people of South Asian descent in the San Francisco Bay Area. Trikone as a magazine had an international subscriber base and ran from 1986 to 2014.

On the other side of the country, Anamika was published in Brooklyn, New York, in 1985 — one year earlier than Trikone. Anamika was a newsletter dedicated to South Asian lesbians and bisexual women and was sent to women in South Asia for free, with its first issue being supported by Asian Lesbians of the East Coast — a group formed in 1983 in response to the LGBTQ+ community being dominated by white men. Asian Lesbians of the East Coast also published its own newslet-

ters.

Often, many of these queer Asian American publications were self-published. For example, “Between the Lines: An Anthology by Pacific Asian Lesbian of Santa Cruz California” was self-published by C. Chung, A. Kim, A. K. Lemeshewsky in 1987. The preface of this anthology highlights the scale at which it was published, describing the anthology’s group as “small but growing” as they held weekly meetings at a local pizza place. The writers take care to mention that they all “talked story, planned, edited each other’s work, wrote proposals till 3 a.m., laughed, cried” and watched as their anthology came to be. In this sense, “Between the Lines” created community on the local level through meetings and the national level through circulation.

I’m sure that the nature of self-publishing has unintentionally obscured the names of many different newsletters and anthologies created by queer Asian Americans from this specific moment in time. I’m also sure that there are zines like this one out there somewhere, hidden in cardboard boxes or

underneath dusty stacks of paper. Although their names might be unknown to us, I want to acknowledge their existence and impact on our community, and I hope that this zine follows their lead.

SOURCES

Bi Pan Library, “The Very Inside: An Anthology of Writings by Asian & Pacific Islander Lesbian and Bisexual Women” Trikone.org, “Magazine” Anderson, Shelley. Out in the World: International Lesbian Organizing. p. 20. Chung, Kim, Lemeshewsky, Between the Lines. p. 5

REFLECTIONS OF QUEERNESS IN MICHIGAN AND THE MODERN

WRITTEN BY SO JUNG SHIN

I have debated for weeks how to write this historical section. For one thing, I am not from the midwest, nor was I raised as an Asian American. The context I grew up in exists halfway across the world, far from here, and so this Asian American “lens” that I will use to sift through the articles on queer activism in Michigan and our campus is adopted, not inherent. Moreover, I am unfortunately unfamiliar with queer history, more specifically, queer Asian American history, in the United States. But as I chat with peers about queer Asian American activism, I realize painfully that not many of us are. The intersectionality of queerness and Asiannness is not taught to us, especially when these two identities

pg. 7

are proposed as diametrically opposed. Self-education then becomes an active choice, and self-liberation is dependent on social location and access to resources. These are the heavy thoughts I carry as I write.

Queerness in Michigan has recently faced a win under the law with the Michigan house passing an amendment that “explicitly includes protections for sexual orientation and gender identity” with a bipartisan vote of 64-45 in favor (Human RIghts Campaign, 2023). This massive success can be attributed to decades of activism and grassroots movements, which dates back to the Christopher Street Detroit Celebration of 1972, “the first large public demonstration for gay and lesbian rights in Michigan.”

Its inception was organized under the Michigan Gay Coalition, including the Ann Arbor Gay Liberation Front and the famous Michigan queer activist, Jim Toy, who had previously established the Human Sexuality Office at the University of Michigan, what we now know as the Spectrum Center. Since then, historians have recorded, anthologized, and written about queer activism and art across the decades, as part of a “collective assertion of visibility”, as Retzloff would say.

Ann Arbor itself has also left its legacy in queer activism. In 1972, dozens gathered to celebrate one of the first Gay Pride weeks in the country. That same year, Kathy Kozecho was the first queer candidate elected to Ann Arbor City Council. Decades later in 2014, the city passed an anti-discrimination ordinance. Ann Arbor boasts their historically queer friendly spaces, through inclusive bookstores like Literati, gay bars including The Flame, and queer-owned restaurants such as Eat.

I suppose where I struggle to go now is where Asian Americans existed in these momen-

tous occasions. Even under “Activism, Organizing, and Leadership within U-M Asian American + Pacific Islander Communities and Space” (2022), an ongoing collaboration between the United Asian American Organizations (UAAO) and the UM’s Asian/ Pacific Islander American Studies Program that aims to document the political history of Asian American and Pacific Islander students in our Ann Arbor campus, just one (1) article appears when one types “gay” or “lesbian” in the search bar – the word itself does not appear on the newspaper clipping, rather as a contributor. No results come up when one searches “queer”. This isn’t to say queer Asian American students did not study at the university, nor that they have not organized together, nor that they have not made any contributions. Rather, this is to say that the works of this demographic have been largely undocumented and underrepresented. Perhaps this is because many of us are not “out” to the public, to our families, a fear that is deeply entrenched in heterosexist traditions and a model minority myth that

demands cisheteronormativity.

With this in mind, members on the board of UAAO realize the importance of documentation and remembering our history, especially as a coalition that centers on racial justice and social advocacy. Through our digitization and oral histories project, UAAO attempts to bridge the gap of what we know of queer Asian American history today, and what was forgotten not too long ago. This seventh edition of our zine focusing on queerness within our community emphasizes this goal even more so.

A number of board members identify as queer, and this intersectionality in our identities guides much of our programming and events in order to create a safer space for those who carry similar labels. Think: UAAO’s Desi Divine event during the Fall semester, a celebration of queerness within the South Asian community; semesterly open mics, where many of our performers identify as queer; graphic novel book club, including stories of queerness in Asia. These forms of activism, however, are not solely from UAAO. Queer in Color (2022), a special editorial

pg. 9

curated by queer staff members of Michigan in Color, is a declaration of the creativity and voices of a much underrepresented minority. South Asian Awareness Network hosted workshops surrounding South Asian queerness, both in 2022 and 2023, together with UAAO to raise awareness on the experiences of queer folks. We maneuver around these spaces and these special programs, acknowledging that it is broadcasted to a predominantly cishet audience. We do so, knowing that not many of us have the vocabulary, the understanding of nuances, the community, for queer Asian Americans. And perhaps that is why we constantly demand for space. Why we intentionally, thoughtfully, and bravely cater our events with a forgotten group in mind. It is with this awareness that we create UAAO’s Zine Ed.7, as a celebration of our existence in our community.

SOURCES

Destination Ann Arbor. “LGBTQ+ Ann Arbor: Historic Firsts & A Look Ahead.” Ann Arbor, 20 June 2022, https://www. annarbor.org/blog/post/lgbtq-ann-arbor/. Studies, University of Michigan, 2 Sept. 2022, https://lsa.umich.edu/ap “Queer in Color.” Mic.michigandaily.com, Michigan Daily, 2022, https://mic.michigandaily.com/ queer-in-color/.

AUTHENTIC EXPRESSION — MORI ROTHHORN

Interviews with queer Asian Americans Angelica Noelle Fandino and Yoon Kim on intersectional musicality.

Angelica Noelle Fandino

“So dramatic

All this magic that I thought we had

I’m an addict to this madness That we call our past”

-Gin and Juice, Angelica Fandino

Angelica Fandino grew up surrounded by music. It streamed in the windows from her uncle’s band, blasted through the car speakers, and echoed across her high school choir’s stage. As a sophomore at the University of Michigan, Angelica has continued to keep the music of her childhood alive, as she continues to sing, produce, and perform her music both with U of M acappella and in her solo career.

“Music is a very prominent part of my personality,” Angelica said. “It’s also a very big part of my culture as a Filipino American. As Filipinos, we love music and performing, so I’ve always grown up with music.”

Many of Angelica’s musical roots lay in her family, but her

inspiration also comes from artists like Lizzie McAlpine and Dodie, whose emotional story telling influenced her growth as an artist.

“I think for me songwriting is just a way of verbalizing a lot of emotions that I can’t other wise can’t express in conver sation with someone,” Angelica said. “Growing up, I was never able to have that conversation. But instead [now] I’m turning to these creative outlets to kind of just put my voice out there.”

Angelica’s performance of “Gin and Juice” on January 4th at the UAAO POC Open Mic, captured the storytelling and emotional maturity of Angel ica’s music. The song is the fourth track off of her first EP titled “what have we become?”, released in January on all streaming platforms.

“The song I performed was called Gin and Juice,” Angelica said. “I wanted to show the cy cle of liking someone, to loving them, to having to let them go

and this cycle of closure that I had to deal with myself… I was able to write about those emotions better, and I think that’s why I really value storytelling in my songs. Having a narrative that’s easy to follow as if you’re reading a book or something.”

While she still continues herself to be a new artist, her music and approach to making art has shifted as she has grown.

“If you’re writing songs for the right intentions, it’s supposed to be scary, and it’s supposed to be vulnerable,” Angelica said. “I think what makes the best music is when you’re honest with yourself, and when you’re able to put it out there for everyone else to hear, even if it’s scary at first. I feel like it’s been very therapeutic for me to use songwriting as a way of finding closure.”

Yoon Kim

“Forrest green, Forrest blues I’m remembering you If this is love, I know it’s true I won’t forget you”

— Forrest Gump, Frank Ocean

The stigma that often surrounds homosexuality in the church can be confusing, and for those who don’t fit into sexual and biological binaries, the intersections between the two can be incredibly complex. For queer, Christian, Korean American, Yoonjim Kim, her existence at these intersections shaped her experience as she navigated her identity.

“It’s really rare to find or hear about people who identify as a Queer, Christian and Korean American,” Yoon said. “I think It’s definitely been a lot of navigating. It’s been a really interesting and weird experience being in the middle.”

As she’s come out to more people in her spiritual community at U of M, she’s found power in the intersectionality of her identity. Her faith and queerness inform one another

to shape both her experiences.

“I’ve kind of been able to live more authentically, and still hold onto these spaces,” Yoon said. “I would say the biggest intersection I have found between queerness and faith has been the idea of grace, and how important grace is.”

As she grew up in the church, Yoon would play piano and drums during services and came to value playing music with and for her community.

“I really like to share music with people,” Yoon said. “It’s never a private act. I think that’s something I have really experienced, [is] playing music spiritually with my spiritual family, There’s musical synergy that kind of happens. There’s that community building that’s present, even if it’s not articulated in any other way.”

Yoon still values playing with others and often jams with her friends on the electric guitar. Her values and identity continue to inform her creative process and music.

clears everything for you. Everyone takes on so much more complexity, and there are so many more nuances,” Yoon said. “Whether that’s music, any other kind of art, or in the relationships I have, being queer has informed them. It’s given me a new set of eyes that has helped me recognize that there is more than one dimension to any craft, person, or relationship.”

At the January UAAO POC open mic, Yoon performed a cover of Forrest Gump by Frank Ocean, using her electric guitar and looping pedal. She took inspiration from musicians like Justice Der, and played his arrangement of the piece.

“[Forrest Gump] has been a special song for me, especially the version that I played,” Yoon said. “It captures a very sweet, innocent kind of love that brings me back to this special moment. It’s a really cool experience to be able to fill a room with my own sound. With the loop pedal, I feel like I’m actually completing a song even if it’s just me, myself, and I.”

“[Exploring sexual identity]

Having safe spaces where she could explore her racial, sex ual, and spiritual identity was integral for Yoon in her journey with identity. She highlights how important it is to have grace, transformative advoca cy and patience when navigat ing the intersections of who we are.

“I’m really grateful for UAAO and queer spaces on campus, especially Asian American ones,” Yoon said. “It’s been really pivotal for me as some one who’s still coming out to a lot of people. It’s helpful to other people who are maybe still questioning, or don’t know their queer identity yet. Things

DISCERNMENT — MELODIE WONG

i’ll be turning twenty-one soon and i still feel like i’m eighteen.

maybe my brain wants to stay in moments

i shared breaths with her.

i remember those days;

i remember thinking i would gladly take Hell

if being with her is what put me there.

for fear of creating something ugly,

i don’t usually write about her.

if i could put into words something that accurately depicted how i feel, i would.

and it would maybe go something like this:

something about how she’d never let me in her parents’ house,

but i could guess what her room looked like anyways.

something about opening the door to find the bed, her dresser, the mirrors —— everything missing. about how i’d open another door

and find where she’d been hiding.

about how she lived and died and was buried in that closet. and i lived a similar life, but escaped the darkness of my own closet sooner. and how life outside was greater, and brighter, and maybe i escaped, but maybe we have different definitions of escape. and how maybe, just maybe, we weren’t all that different if at the end of our lives we’re just bones and bones. and how the strings of our lives lay intertwined for a moment or two.

but in the end i don’t write. and in the end she could never be something ugly. and in the end, i would never know her until she died, and i’m not sure if she ever really knew me.

Melodie is a queer Chinese American woman.

CHING CHANG CHONG — JULIA ZHOU

Julia identifies as Asian American and American Born Chinese

Ching-ching is the sound: the sound of a cash register; the sound of money; the sound of success; the sound of an American dream, being achieved by this Chink.

Chang is the name: the name of a family; a name that paved the way. No, not for railroad tracks, but for the glistening yellow of gold, being rushed on by this oriental freak. is an insect: an invasive species you sought to exterminate; the rising tide of yellow peril across the Pacific. Weak.

NOTES ON THE SCALES OF SEXUALITY (A COLUMN) — ANONYMOUSLY SUBMITTED

The Michigan Marriage Pact. I sighed and got comfy on my bed, thrilled I had found a new way to procrastinate. On a scale of 0 – 5...

How satisfied are you with life?

Do you go with your heart or your head?

How spiritual are you?

I was zooming through each question with less than a minute of thought. Maybe I’d get back to my essay sooner than I’d hoped.

What is your sexuality?

My finger hovered. [ ] Straight [ ] Bisexual

big elephant of my religion, Christianity.

I knew that I’d been through several stages of on-and-off questioning since high school, but whenever I thought I came to a conclusion, like a duct tape over a black hole, the thing opened up again.

Where was the option for unsure, fluid, or at least mostly heterosexual? But I knew leaving it open ended would only tweak my results, they were here to make matches afterall. I settled with

[X] Straight

and went on my way. There were still fifty questions to go, and my essay was tapping its foot at my desk, waiting.

I reeled at the sudden stop in my brain’s sprint. What was my sexuality? They say that sexuality is a spectrum, but I never quite determined where I really stood.

This is probably due to the

When the results came out, I was in a study session with my friends (all church people), and they were all pestering each other to reveal our results.

And as everyone snuck

behind my shoulders and creeped a peek at my inbox, I knew picking straight had been the right call. In my spam folder, I tapped open the email and scrolled down.

Now without further ado, your optimal Michigan Marriage Pact match is:

Colby Hopkins.

As I stared at the whitest, straightest, blandest name I’d ever read, I knew this couldn’t be it. It was just a game, and I had taken the quiz for fun, but the algorithm determined that this was the type of person I was meant to be with.

There’s no way.

—

This weekend, in my diary, I wrote:

“Hmm. Maybe I should stop being so apologetic. Today at the VJin1 cupsleeve event (1) at the Korean dessert cafe, a girl called me hot. And I straight up malfunctioned, then she malfunctioned because I malfunctioned, and during the short-circuit, she probably deducted something along the lines of, “oh shit, she’s straight and I’ve made her uncomfortable, abort.” And I could not look anywhere, not at her or Jinny or Anna, my straightTM church friends, if I ever had any, and I’m not even sure if I can say any of this right now, not because I’m afraid of getting canceled but because the guilt is like black quicksand slipping into my chest, slowly, silently, eating away at me. And I already told Poulson-Bryant that I’m writing my essay about Christianity x LGBT even though I’m not even LGBT like confirmed, so I’m sooo imposter syndrome right now,

(1) Members of BTS whose birthdays are in December

(2) An event at a cafe run by fans of a celebrity / band, typically on an anniversary for the group or for a member’s birthday. Any drinks ordered will come with a special cupsleeve for the event. Additionally, fanmade merch and freebies are typically sold.

pg. 19

probably the most I’ve felt in my life, ever. It feels impossible, like I’ll never overcome this, nor figure it out. I’ve realized it’s only myself that’s stopping me, really. I don’t even feel super bogged down by people around me, at least explicitly. I think.” —

Where it all started, was Twitter. BTS Twitter.

I joined this circle in early high school, and expected to scream about some hot boys. What they don’t tell you before joining the fandom is that everyone is gay. Or at least, that’s what it feels like.

I was starting to question my sexuality at the time, and was coming to a conclusion, or so I thought.

There were these things called carrds, which are like pages where people can share bits of information about themselves, so you can learn a little about them before following their profile. Everyone and their mothers were making carrds and putting their sexualities in them.

I opened the website to create one, but stopped before even choosing a layout. If this were to change somewhere along the way, would someone notice? I couldn’t claim I was bi and then take it back, right?

What if I get canceled?

Carrds went out of style a year later, but the thought never left my mind. —

“Here’s my hot take: Jesus couldn’t care less if I’m gay!”

We were sitting on the curb outside of my dorm, and I had just been walked home by Jae (who was also my bible study group leader, and had been my designated older sister last year). She had just come out to me.

I, in all honesty, had not seen that one coming. Mostly because I didn’t realize that was allowed. There were a few flamboyant, confidently out, unapologetically themselves gays in ourchurch, but none who I could identify much with. Seeing Jae – Korean, grew up in the church, quite similar background to that of my own – felt groundbreaking. The

concrete beneath us shattered and I had entered a new layer of this earth.

“Does anyone else know?” I asked.

“My roommates, Xavier, and now you.”

Xavier was one of those quite obvious, full face of makeup, singing-the-high-notes gays who was a part of our church.

“Did he know?” I asked.

“He was like oh yeah, I’d figured.”

I liked considering sexuality as fluid, always changing, evolving – like scales a snake could shed and redon. I guess somewhere down the line it unfortunately became a matter of density, of standing on a scale and seeing how far the number could go.

“Do you know what I mean by queer?”

I shook my head.

“Queerness is just — living out of a binary — and how it doesn’t have to be one of these two set things that have been boxed off for us.

Maybe we were both about to get zapped, but I was feeling more enlightened than ever (aside from certain spiritual

encounters).

I liked the way she kept repeating the word queer. —

I, quite frankly, feel like a kid when I go to my younger sister of four years for romantic / sexuality advice. She is fifteen and bi and receiving confessions from girls over the phone, while I cannot even decide if I am or not. A bouncer is standing at the pulsing rainbow doors, and holding it a crack open. I can hear music and dancing inside. He gives me a look under hisheavily polarized sunglasses. Am I in or out?

I am the only one in our fam ily my sister has come out to and we are still unsure if she will ever tell my mom. She grew up in San Francisco, her best friend in college was gay, but she’s told us before that she doesn’t “agree with homosex uality” and will agree with God’s opinion (which is a bit ironic considering she’s the one I have to nudge awake during service, while the first thing I do on waking up most days is read the Bible) – It’s hard to predict

reaction, you know?

My sister sat at the edge of my bed. She had just told me about her latest confession, her first time receiving one from a girl, when I told her, “You know, I had this thought when Jae came out to me, wondering if Xavier could tell, or if he would think to classify me as gay, if hisgadar would pick up on anything, or meep a flat “STRAIGHT.” And I really thought for a second, that that was how I could close the case once and for all: If the magical 200% accurate, exclusive to

gay people Gadar picked up on something. Enough to say I’m actually bi, for real.”

But the thing is, I don’t really feel like anything. Not this, nor that enough. I feel stuck in a place between. In between in between.

But maybe I can get behind the idea of queer, or of having no label at all. According to Jae, isn’t that its definition, after all?

The illustration on pg. 23

UNTITLED— SARA FANG

SELECTED POEMS — ROJIN SHIRWAN

Melodie is a queer Chinese American woman.

MY GIRLFRIEND WHOSE NAME I DONT KNOW

The strobe lights turn my eyes inside out. The splatter of rolled ankles and flat sweaty backs mark the air. A nervous girl screams, her eyes fleeting back and forth among the mass-covered bodies.The clock clicks another and loosens its grip until all the time has run out and w e are left sitting on a cold metal Montreal bus stop, bladders full. I flew that night, my feet didn’t reach the ground until your arms caught my flat back and the loose collateral of split ribbon black buttons embraced the dented floor. Glimpses of your hand move with mine, our eyes shielded and all I feel is your hot breath. Your name rests forgotten on my tongue and I know mine on yours. Perhaps I’ll never see your black box hair dye except in the eerily similar tones with other girls mouths. And you don’t speak french the way I do, but in men’s eyes, we are the same. And I’ll never hear you laugh again, but all I wrote from that night........as i sit under the stoned montreal moon smoking shitty canadian cigarettes...

Vest broken Hot girl gave me her pin Now i’m her girlfriend.

When you hold my hand, I want to die. A confuddled muddled-up mess of emotions spark from your hand that causes my short-circuited brain to hardwire.

Slam that splintered wood door on my peach jam hands. Ask me the question, I dare you.

I’m sick of flirting in morse code, always tiptoeing.

Tell me what I am to you, I dare you.

I am unmedicated, free

pg. 25

range. The eggs in my fridge age by another day, their golden orange yolk becomes more muted to fade into that sickly yellow. Those muffled eggshells shatter under the weight of your unspoken words. I wish I could make you listen to the crunch over and over again.

I’m not proud of me. I write confessions in a TJ Maxx discounted black book.

The dull thud of my empty head rings loud on this Chicago bus. You pull the red string.

“DO I WANT TO HOLD A HAND OR DO I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND”

Released from your hold, my hands pulse from the sweltering heat.

Empty orange pill bottles haunt my dreams. Your touch clicks open the white plastic lid of the blackhole squatting in my mind.

The joints in my right big toe don’t fit together like a puzzle piece, my doctor told me, “that’s why you’re in pain.” I almost cry in relief, “so there is pain, it’s real.” So typical for my deeformed joints to never fit together. No cure for me or you, my pain is a little bump on thoseshitty Ann Arbor sidewalks.

300 miles away from you blaring beeps from a passing by Blue Bus fill me with nostalgic joy.

I can smell my panic attack fostering in my empty single baby blue or was it teal iron pill stomach. “What’s wrong with you,” you ask me with those endearing eyes.

I flashback to that dark room with my bowl of cherries and blurry vision. I sigh and sigh. I love sighing, it’s so relieving. I wish I knew what I wanted to say. I wish I knew I wish I knew

that you knew I wish I knew what I knew I wish I knew I wish I knew how to count inside I wish

I knew I wish I knew sooner rather than later I wish I knew I wish I knew I wish I could tell I wish I knew I wish I knew that I didn’t like you I wish I knew I wish I wasn’t so lonely because loneliness distorts my emotions I wish I knew wish I knew how to tell the difference between love and a distraction I wish I knew I wish I knew oh how I truly wish I knew.

JELLYFISH

My hair springs back to life here.

The air settles down easier in my lungs here.

I am meant to be here. But my mother says no one else in my family has ever been like me.

BUT my body resides here (meant to be), but my heart cannot.

FREQUENT OCCASIONS — ESTHER PARK

On the frequent occasion I ponder off into different realities. Then mourn those thoughts.

Those attractions.

“What could have been” is my middle name.

Just kidding.

Due to tireless tradition, it was created by my paternal grand father.

But I am grateful that at least it was cute. Jee-Ae. Look at me, veering off again.

In line with the nature of previous internalizations, it took an eon to accept my daydreaming.

But look at me now.

These frequent occasions are what I live for.

UNTITLED— ZEYUAN HU

Zeyuan identifies as queer gender-nonconforming chinese.

Illustration to right.

SELECTED POEMS — SO JUNG SHIN

SJ identifies as Korea-born, Indonesia-raised queer.

WOMEN LIKE HER

The gentle fold of her skirt in the cold

Small pointed feet in flowered shoes

She sits in the back of the house silent and resigned.

The woman my people are ignoring

hidden from the golden days of the three kingdoms obsolete during the birth of the tiger is almost forgotten.

A son is born

Bless his wretched mother

For he has brought great fortune

He has chosen money

On his ceremonial first birthday

Nimble, sacred hands grab the gold

He drinks up the bright cheers and laughter

Climbs up the thousand steps to

conquer the next kingdom while his sister is nowhere to be seen.

All a woman is are eyes and lids and eyelids pinched nose bridge a cupid’s bow too large for an angel and lips lined with feigned delicacy plastic V and then the flowers of her breasts too many veins on her leaf scars

the pour of her belly drips of nectarine

“Do you want to come home with me?”

None of her voice

Blooming with hibisci

Bursting with strength

She is nothing but a used heart Has nothing behind her name except that of her husband her father

Who is she?

That woman is a god.

They cannot move these ladies of the morning calm are not given the twitch of eyelids

God is dead. They are given no answers forced to take the hard role as mother and wife. Women like her have their hearts bleeding to death.

POMEGRANATE SEEDS

carnal hunger rests on a stomach, a drive to chase and hunt

scavenge and seed

gnaw on a ripe

fruit of seeds

rip and tear

the fleshy skin

piling seeds

pressure under teeth

crunch and crackle

euphoric in liberation

who am i?

skin on skin

a drip of red

down my skin

ooze with juice

rest my skin against the earth from which it came

i came down under dirt under nails back to earth mother reborn

UGLY THINGS — ANONYMOUS

the slices of your love are not scarlet and silky or crimson or ruby or unfettering or even beautiful. they are gashes of dried brown and red. deep, but unseen and everlasting.

not to be mistaken for an undying sunlight falling on my melanin skin but more like a rotten, and somehow unmolded big mac on the side of the pavement which may be rejected by vultures

and doesn’t decompose but just sits there for all of time.

for, how must I turn this grim plight into a graceful metaphor that equates darkness to the beauty

of my grandmother’s iris as a galaxy of constellations and fluctuating supernovas with the strength of a thousand ballerinas, dancing among her shadows?

the harsh realities are too sorrow to turn into a lesson, an art, or a story. instead, I must write ugly things.

tales of sorrow, betrayal, distress; things that cannot ripen or blossom, for the chaos of my mind cannot be filtered, through a Large Water Pro Brita 5000 so I just sit and write ugly things.

ANOTHER TIME — ANONYMOUS

To write like this is to reopen my wounds

But I’ll gladly split my chest

If it lets someone else feel seen.

The day I decided to come out To come out to you another time

I knew I’d have to split my chest to you.

It’d already happened before, Sitting shotgun as you drove me, Asking what would happen if I wasn’t straight.

That day I took that same car out for a drive, I took it out to get away from our house

If not forever, then just for these moments.

I had to run every option, every time I had to run them all through my head, Looking at every option I had or could have.

I imagined a time where you just accepted

Accepted me the first fucking time,

And I didn’t spend all these years waiting.

I imagined a time where you lashed out instead

Instead of what you said, you drove me away

The way my deepest anxieties thought you would.

I imagined a time where I spent high school out, Not trying to decipher who I could trust with myself, Whose loose lips wouldn’t destroy my family.

I imagined a time where I lost my home, Where I lost even more than that, All because I couldn’t wait those years.

I spent so long just driving that day, Driving and looking for somewhere to pull over,

As my eyes began to blur the rolling snowfields.

White queer men screamed on the stereo

Because that was the closest possible way I could try to feel heard

The times I was imagining bore down

Alternate timelines, entire universes

With all their contained mass weighing

My shoulders started cracking,

Tears squeezed from my eyes

And quiet sobs escaped my mouth

Every timeline collapsing on to me, Shattering me across time and space

My tears and wails to fill the void.

In another time, I could be someone else I could love in a different way I could be part of a different family.

But those universes had evaporated, And I was stuck to the skin this world

This world and my family had given me.

Stuck with the realization that What has always hurt me the most

Is the influx of identities that form me.

And what I’d been mourning all that time

Was less what could and couldn’t have been But the years of my queer teenagerhood already lost.

And so I had had enough. A quick text to you And I was on my way back home.

I sat you down and tried my

SELF CONTROL (BORGES) - FRANK OCEAN

— YOON KIM

Yoon identifies as a queer christian Korean-american woman.

STRAY DOGS — GINA LIU

Gina identifies as a second-generation bisexual Chinese-American.

in peru, hunkering pups sprint alongside mopeds

cattle dogs weave through dirt-road traffic to nobody and nowhere in china, skinny white hounds roam near squid kabob stands

danes bob and beg for food from everyone and everywhere

the concept of a stray dog has become so novel to the American people and their ideals

which consist of domesticated dachshunds and docile dobermans here, when dogs run free, we chase after them

and the white lady down the street yells at my mom when my dog pees on her pristine lawn

“your dog’s pee turns my lawn yellow”

we looked it up –yes, there is a trace amount of nitrogen in dog urine yes, nitrogen does turn manicured grass yellow but only in atomic concentrations in the same spot, over and over

two years later I saw the for sale sign up on white lady’s lawn oh man. did we do that?

even though that lady has left, we still live in a truman show-esque neighborhood even my purebred dog is on a leash but where my mom is from, dogs run free.

A CLUMSY RITUAL (OF PLACE) —

MIRA SIMONTON-CHAO

Mira identifies as a second-generation Asian American queer creative & maker.

PHANTOM — SONIA XIANG

if you watch the horizon as the brute force of curdled summer air burned through the smell of feces

you might just find a boy, limbs sawed off.

you see, no one ever mentioned that the plaster he so desperately slathered onto his collapsing frame

oozing over exposed bone started rotting his skin like the poor excuse of his laugh or the bird he found two summers ago tucked in the shadows of his treehouse flesh gurgling.

every time their gaze stole his body, molten he could not help but flail–the glue never dried after all, mucus trailing his steps swallowing everything he touched, strange

Sonia identifies as queer and aa&pi. pg.

what an odd boy.

he reeked of desperation decay spilling from his bloodied knees empty pleas to a sky bleached barren for pieces to fall together the way the rain molds into snow pierced flesh to dust even rotten was something he could never become.

if you watch the horizon as the frost starts to pierce the curdled summer air, you will begin to notice the boy that was reaching for the sun never had limbs at all.

SELECTED POEMS — ADITI KHARE

Aditi identifies as Desi and queer.

WOMB

Sunlight streaming from in between closed window blinds

A beautiful shade of soft orange

Illuminating the creases in my white silken sheets

My mother’s face in my nightmares

AMOEBAS IN MY ROOM

Bookmarked at the first chapter, unconsumed Sheepish

Dancing across my mind before I’ve “evolved” into you

Subtle Gradation

Of lambs, bugs, birds, and frogs

Of 50 snakes and frozen rain making their way in

Now I cannot take in the cool winter breeze Because This is my Greatest fear For today and the next 30 seconds

CONTRIBUTORS

ADITI KHARE

Studies: Computer Science Major with a minor in Gender, Race, and Nation.

Hometown: Rochester Hills, MI

Contributions: Design - Back Cover, General Design / Doodles

Throughout Zine

“I’m a queer desi artist. I think of zines as a queer form of storytelling. Also, making a community-based little art book by queer POC and giving it out for free is quite radical.”

SANIA SRIVASTAVA

Studies: Public Health / PreMed

Hometown: Mumbai, India

Contributions: Writing!

“I am an Indian immigrant and a future physician! [Working on this zine,] I loved the aspect of sharing our stories in the context of friends and peers.

UAAO’s mission for increasing Asian representation really reflects in these Zines and I wanted to be involved.”

SO JUNG SHIN

Studies: Psychology, Arts & Ideas in the Humanities

Hometown: Jakarta

Contributions: write history section, edit, creative writing submission

“[I am a] queer asian creative. i love the concept of being able to write our own histories and understandings of it, documenting our place on campus, and sharing our experiences in a messy intersection of queerness <3 it’s rare to find a safe and understanding space of queer identifying folks, one that especially reflects similar cultural upbringings and values, even more rare that we get the privilege of celebrating it, and so i hold this zine close to my heart.”

MIRA SIMONTON-CHAO

Studies: Arts & Ideas in the Humanities and American Culture (Ethnic Studies)

Hometown: Ann Arbor, MI

Contributions: Design! & submission.

“I identify as a second-generation Asian American queer creative. I love the way that zines and alternative print mediums bring community together and create space for self-definition and -determination. If that makes sense... and this edition... is amazing. It is really a culmination of all the reasons I love this community and why I am so grateful to have been a part of UAAO for these past three years <3”

CHELSEA PADILLA

Studies: Political Science & Creative Writing double major Hometown: Grand Rapids, MI

Contributions: Editor in Chief - I wrote a few things and organized the theme, content, and team!

“I’ve been working on UAAO zines since I first got involved with the org a couple years ago. But this edition is something I’ve wanted to do for a while. When I was working through old print issues of Asian American student publications for UAAO’s archive digitization initiative (check out “Activism, Organizing, and Leadership within U-M Asian American + Pacific Islander Communities and Spaces” on the U-M Library website!!!) with Mira and Aarushi, I found a couple ads calling for submissions to an anthology for “Asian Pacific American Lesbians. The deadline listed was December 15th, 1991 -- not too long ago, but still almost ten years before I was born. Finding those ads made me really eager to learn more, and that curiosity is ultimately what sparked inspiration for this zine’s theme.”

HANNAH SALAMEH

Studies: Computer Science

Hometown: San Diego

Contributions: Graphic Design