existing between worlds - ISSUE 02

PORTRAIT

issue #2 : spring 2019 existing between worlds

PORTRAIT issue #2 : spring 2019 existing between worlds

front cover photo by Christa Haryanto design by Am Chunnananda

photo by Alex Kim

Welcome to Portrait, Vassar’s Asian Students’ Magazine

We are thrilled to present the second issue of Portrait: Vassar Asian Students’ Magazine! This semester has been very eventful for us, especially with more writers, editors, and designers joining the team after the launch of the first issue. When every member sat in a circle in Rose Parlor and briefly introduced themselves for the first time, I was struck by the differences in backgrounds and experiences. Yet, there was one common experience that brought us together – Existing Between Worlds.

In our second issue, our talented writers and artists share their voices and expressions based on their very experiences of being part of more than one culture: growing up as an Asian adoptee in America, reflecting upon the concept of “home” in Thailand, finding one’s identity and comfort in a dragon boat, and visually expressing complicated feelings of being asked ‘where are you from?’

Some delved into a variety of topics and issues within Asian/Asian American society: stereotypes, jobs, discrimination, activism, misrepresentation, immigration, speech, and many more. In addition to all the phenomenal written and visual pieces, Portrait also includes professor spotlights (featuring Sophia Harvey and Hua Hsu) and journals (in Vietnamese and Hindi).

As the semester comes to a close, it is hard not to get excited about the long summer break that is awaiting us. During the warm months that will be filled with people you love, vacations, work, and breaks, we hope you continue to ask yourself what it means to be Asian, or what it means to be amongst those who choose to consider themselves Asian, in the current world.

Thank you for all your support. Portrait would not exist without you.

Yours truly,

Founder / content editor jiwonkim@vassar.edu

photo by Am Chunnananda

Portrait Family Content Editor Ji Won (Alex) Kim Design Editor Am Chunnananda Writers Jane Ahn Matthew Au Emma Chun Elena Furuhashi Yijia (Yvette) Hu Ji Won (Alex) Kim Nicole Kormendi Petch Kingchatchaval Charlotte Meng Miku Migita Isabelle Paquette Taylor Stewart Hikari Tanaka Frances Tian Tamika Whitenack

Editors Ji Won (Alex) Kim Petch Kingchatchaval Alexandra Lau Jessica Li Khanh Ly Nguyen Designers & Artists Am Chunnananda Joy Freund Christa Haryanto Sunmin Park Griffin Wells River Zhao Publicity Grace Han

Joy Freund

Jane Ahn

Emma Chun

Matthew Au

Am Chunnananda

Elena Furuhashi Grace Han

Christa Haryanto

Yijia (Yvette) Hu 6

Ji Won (Alex) Kim

Nicole Kormendi

Petch Kingchatchaval Jessica Li Alexandra Lau

Isabelle Paquette

Charlotte Meng

Sunmin Park

Miku Migita Khanh Ly Nguyen

Taylor Stewart

Frances Tian Hikari Tanaka

Family portrait illustrated by Sunmin Park

Griffin Wells

Tamika Whitenack

River Zhao 7

contents 10

Uh, Do I Sound Asian?

30 Dragon Boat: Home Kong

13

We Own the Right to Choose What Language We Speak: A Response to Duke Professor Sending Discriminatory Email to Urge 100% Commitment to English

32 Living Insurance

16

35 Professor Spotlight: Sophia Harvey, Hua Hsu 40 Ethinic Niches & the Pursuit of the American Dream

His-tories

19

Exploring Stereotypes

22

Where’s Asian American Studies, Vassar?

42 Charitable Art: Multicolour and “Junction-Making” 46 Growing Up Adopted 50 Migration Stories

24

Extraterrestrial 65 Snapshots of Asia

25

h.b. floating palace 68 Journals

28

Homecoming

photos by Am Chunnananda

Uh, Do I Sound Asian?

CHARLOTTE MENG

EDITED BY ALEXANDRA LAU DESIGNED & ILLUSTRATED BY JOY FREUND

For the monolingual speaker, language is a banal

fact of life: I speak English, you speak English, we all speak

Judging from past precedents, it seems that when an

English. But the instant one steps into a foreign-language

ethnic minority breaks new ground on foreign soil, they

speaking country, language transforms from the air one

are caught between two ways of life. Like an astronaut

breathes into a viscous marsh swamp where fine nuances

floating helplessly in space, the individual finds themself

are lost and rough crudities remain. Language is no lon-

in a groundless space, without orientation nor the slightest

ger smooth and effortless, but instead becomes something

indication of how to orient themselves. To deal with this,

that makes self-expression a chore. All of the possibili-

they create something new to anchor themselves to—a

ties for self-expression suddenly diminish. And with this

new culture, a new language. Thus, shouldn’t Asian Amer-

limiting of expression comes a sense of self-inhibition. In

icans have evolved their own “Asian American Vernacular

turn, one’s identity disappears too.

English”?

At the very core, Asian Americanness is about

identity. Hybridized identity, to be exact. We straddle the artificial line between Oriental and Occidental. We are the metaphorical Bering Strait that links Asia to America. We find ourselves in positions as translators for our parents, mediating not only between languages but between cultural values—Confucianism or “Life, Love, and the pursuit of Happiness”? And given the tight connection between identity and language then, wouldn’t it make sense for language to enter the conversation as well? Take African Americans, and how the group has evolved African American Vernacular English (AAVE). ‘Why hasn’t a distinctly Asian American way of speaking emerged?’, I find myself wondering.

It turns out the research says yes, sort of. The re-

sults are in, and Asian Americans are not “linguistically white.” Although not as obvious nor as distinct as AAVE, it’s definitely there. There are signs of it. Interestingly, research says that in some ways, it’s influenced by the varying Asian languages that Asian Americans come from, but in other ways it seems to be more of a “race” thing than a “nationality” thing. Sounding Asian is sometimes a phenomenon that “crosses national heritage lines” (Newman 2011).

10

For Asian Americans, language is a strong com-

The question of Asian American identity doesn’t

ponent of cultural identity. Some second generation im-

just stop at language, either. Lo and behold, moments of

migrants hold on to their original language; others forget

a distinctly Asian American culture are piercing through

it and as a consequence lose touch with their culture. But

too, thanks to the mediating presence of the Subtle Asian

even in those cases, the traces remain, and at a rate higher

Traits Facebook group. Bubble tea, “uwu” texts, raves—

than chance, listeners are able to identify a native English

though geographically disconnected from the Asian cul-

speaker as Asian purely by voice recordings (2011). Tip-

tures we come from and implanted into a new culture that

offs include an “upward tilt” in speech, and a “lack of as-

alienates us, we find comfort and solace in sharing these

sertiveness” (which may be the result of Asian Americans

cultural practices that are coming to define the Asian

being faced with, and thus conforming to, stereotypes of

American experience. It may not look like it, but this is

being weak-willed and non-assertive) (Hanna 1997).

culture in the making. And it is uniquely ours. We, the col-

Some other indications found are a “breathier voice,” more

lective of immigrants’ children, who feel neither complete-

“syllable-timed speech,” and “lower /ε/s and /r/s” (New-

ly Asian nor completely American.

man 2011). Moreover, the more Asian American friends the speaker had, the more identifiable they were; Asian Americans were better than white counterparts at identifying Asians.

So we have culture, standardized and expedit-

ed through Subtle Asian Traits, and we have—not quite language—an “ethnolinguistic repertoire.” No longer does

It’s significant that Asian Americans are identifi-

able by certain linguistic markers, because this is not at all noticed in everyday life. It’s also significant because rather than being a “systematic racial dialect,” it manifests more so as what linguists call an “ethnolinguistic repertoire” (2011). It is slight, subtle, but noticeably present enough to distinguish Asian Americans from other native English speakers. What matters is that these subtle differences exist, perhaps lending new sense to the phrase “subtle Asian trait”—there’s plausible deniability, but internally a consensus that these are defining Asian traits. And the greatest takeaway from all of this may be that the instant click we feel with other Asian Americans is not just a matter of looking alike, but perhaps even subtly sounding alike.

“sharing a language” mean knowing an Asian language (you know, those times when a group of Chinese Americans friends spontaneously breaks out the Chinese). It also means sharing a particular way of speaking English that has evolved from the various Asian languages we come from. This may ultimately be the result of our existence between worlds; at this crossroads of identities, we are doing our best to use our inherited cultures and languages to give life to a unified sense of Asian American identity. The hodgepodge of Asian cultures and languages is coming together in America and melding into a general Asian American culture and language. Subtle Asian Traits and Asian Americans’ “ethnolinguistic repertoire” are the emerging signs of a strengthening Asian American identity.

11

As exciting as this all is, however, we don’t want

Subtle Asian Traits/language to become not just markers of our identity but the sum total of who we are. The human experience is rife with love and loss, irrespective of race, religion, or ethnicity. So as we find material ways to anchor our senses of self in the world, I stress that we must not lose sight of what make us soft and human, either. We ought to allow for expressions of vulnerability and authenticity into our daily lives, so that we don’t find ourselves reduced to our Asianness. However, I believe there is a caveat. And that caveat is this: the groups in power must be the ones to create space for vulnerability to happen. Vulnerability is shared strength when met with compassion and unconditional acceptance, but it becomes weakness in the face of the powerful majority. Until society advances to the point where vulnerability can happen in safety, minority groups will feel impelled not to lay their honest selves bare for others to take advantage of.

References: Hanna, David B. (1997) “Do I Sound ‘Asian’ to

You? Linguistic Markers of Asian American

identity,” University of Pennsylvania Working

Papers in Linguistics: Vol. 4: Iss. 2, Article 10.

Newman and Wu. (2011) “Do You Sound Asian When

12

You Speak English?” American Speech 1 May

2011; 86 (2): 152–178.

We Own the Right to Choose What Language We Speak A Response to Duke Professor Sending Discriminatory Email to Urge 100% Commitment to English YIJIA HU EDITED BY KHANH LY NGUYEN & ALEX KIM DESIGNED BY AM CHUNNANANDA

In late January this year, an email by Duke University Professor Megan Neely containing discriminatory content has aroused online outrage and debate.

In her email, she explicitly asked international students to speak only English in the department building, after two of her colleagues told her about a group of students who, in their words, spoke Chinese “VERY LOUDLY” in the student lounge. The two faculty members intended to record the students’ names in order to bar them from interviews for internships or master projects in the future. According to Neely, “they were disappointed that these students were not taking the opportunity to improve their English and were being so impolite as to have a conversation that not everyone on the floor could understand”.

In response to Neely’s email, a considerable number of social media users, especially those of international backgrounds, expressed feelings of being hurt, offended, and unwelcomed. A Duke undergraduate from China directly pointed out that Neely and her colleagues’ behavior was “racial discrimination and cultural imperialism” (Krueger, “Duke Professor Apologizes for English-Only Email to Chinese Grad Students”, WRAL.com) in an interview by WRAL News. Nevertheless, some defended her in various ways. One of Neely’s former students, for instance, wrote an article in an effort to prove Professor Neely’s nice and helpful character, suggesting that she did not mean spite in her email.

Retrived from https://twitter.com/siruihua/ status/1089219853725122561

13

Whatever Neely’s real intention, whether innocuous or sinister, her action does not excuse her from inflicting hurtful feelings upon international students.

The discrimination, whether by Neely or her colleagues, may not seem evident to all but incontrovertibly exists.

First of all, the two faculty members mentioned in the email didn’t intervene or communicate openly with their concerns. Instead, they went behind the students’ back to try to deny them equal access to academic resources and opportunity. If their conduct were not exposed by the email, the students would not even be aware that they were discriminated against. Additionally, because the email was indiscriminately sent to all biostatistics students in the department, Neely publicly shamed those students for a situation where she could have intervened individually so that the students could feel more respected and comfortable. Ironically, Neely acknowledged that “I have no idea how hard it has been and still for you to come to the U.S. and study in a non-native language” and yet she chose an inconsiderate and disrespectful way to handle the issue.

It is not the first time that Chinese students have become the target of such discrimination. Not being raised in the Anglosphere, they usually face language barriers and additional pressures when they come to the States. Neely and the other two faculty members not only failed to show empathy but instead manipulated a stereotype in order to discriminate the students. If it is a language that “not everyone on the floor could understand”, how could they even be sure that it was Chinese? In addition, it is fairly prejudiced and single-minded to randomly catch people communicating in a non-English language and assume that their English is not good enough. To speak one’s mother tongue when going abroad is a way to combat homesick and loneliness as well as to seek a sense of community. The students might be talking about something intimate and private that professors don’t have the right to intervene.

14

Even in China, Chinese international students only hanging out with one another are also stigmatized by a majority of society that is ignorant of the reality of studying abroad. Based on a societal expectation, the more one gets along with the local students, the more one succeeds in social life. Therefore, when we, Chinese students, go abroad, we feel self-conscious when we speak in not only English but also in our mother tongue. It feels as though speaking Chinese uncovers our weakness and makes us think we are not trying hard enough. However, we, as individuals, have every right to choose who we want to hang out with. If we feel shameful of ourselves when we speak in our mother tongue, then how could we have the courage and power to break out of our comfort zone to make friends with people who don’t speak the same language as us?

When looking at the spectrum of society’s acceptance of international students nowadays in America, we see Trump on one end, saying “Let’s make America great again!” and curtailing the acceptance of STEM students from overseas who “steal” American technology to bring back to their countries. Yet on the other side, conversations around building a multilingual environment and promoting pluralism are emerging and small steps are being taken to make the idea into concrete, tangible service to the campus. For example, the Writing Center here at Vassar recruited more internationals last year to help students with problems more specific to their language background.

To integrate well isn’t as easy as spelling out “A-B-C”. It requires one to stay as whole as possible while navigating through a foreign culture. There are many things that stand as impediments to that goal such as language barriers, cultural differences, personalities, and all other possible unforeseen elements. To integrate well is also not a one-sided effort. It requires both sides to embrace differences with welcoming arms, appreciative eyes, and open minds. Yes, international students should be encouraged to integrate into a new culture to broaden horizons, but it will never be done in the way Professor Megan Neely or her colleagues did.

If the environment is discriminatory, how can international students be part of the community?

References Krueger, Sarah. “Duke Professor Apologizes for English-Only Email to Chinese Grad Students.” WRAL. com, 27 Jan. 2019, www.wral.com/duke-professor-apologizes-for-english-only-email-to-chinese-grad-stu dents/18152148/.

Mervosh, Sarah. “Duke University Apologizes Over Professor’s Email Asking Chinese Students to Speak English.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 27 Jan. 2019, www.nytimes.com/2019/01/27/us/me gan-neely-duke-chinese.html.

Zhi, Long. “‘杜克生物统计系的我，理解大家的愤怒，但不认为教授是「种族歧视」”.” INSIGHT视界, 28 Jan. 2019, mp.weixin.qq.com/s/0WnLcj3bKB-vtBFy3iidoQ.

15

His-stories

EDITED BY JESSICA LI / ALEX KIM DESIGNED BY SUNMIN PARK ILLUSTRATIONS BY RIVER ZHAO

Anyone who’s had a conversation with

on them - one of the most infamous camps was known

me on campus knows much how I love my international

as Unit 731, where Korean (and Chinese) victims were

politics class and idolize Professor Muppidi. And what’s

subject to torture in the name of “science.” In addition,

not to love about it? It’s a challenging but fun class with a

Japanese soldiers would force young and poor girls out

professor who makes me question everything I’ve known

from their homes and into the sex service. These girls,

and experienced. We talk about concepts ranging from

called comfort women, were sexually assaulted, tortured,

government and nuclear weapons to time. But what makes

and imprisoned.

this class even more engaging for me is the emphasis on

the invisible connections that tie us together.

government is justified by claims of a lack of proper

redress and apology, many overlook the involvement of

As s o m e o n e w h o d e e p l y v a l u e s t h e l i n k s

Whi le Kore an anger towards t he Jap anes e

between multiple entities, I thought it fitting to link

American soldiers in the Korean

histories, especially the stories that shape Western and

comfort women “industry.” In

Eastern countries. If I have learned anything through

a March 4, 2017 japantimes.

international politics with Professor Muppidi, it is

co opinion article, writer Jeff

that no one person or event exists in a vacuum and

Kingston includes a photo of

that no one action is isolated - yet, history is taught

a 1996 student protest that

as a series of detached points on a linear timeline. In

d e m a n d e d U. S . t r o o p s

reality, history is more complicated than we may realize.

leave South Korea. This

Likewise, South Korea, Japan, and the United States

protest was sparked when

also have complicated histories that are entangled with

an American soldier

one another that continue to have lingering effects decades later, from the World War II era to current day.

From 1910 to 1945, Japan imperialized Korea,

considering the small nation not as an autonomous country but as part of Japan. According to a February 27, 2018 history.com article written by Erin Blakemore, “Schools and universities forbade speaking Korean and emphasized manual labor and loyalty to the Emperor”.

The Korean language was replaced by Japanese, and more than 200,000 historical documents were destroyed to wipe out Korean culture. Korean people were also taken to special camps where human experiments were performed 16

JANE AHN

mu rd e re d a pro st itute. Fu r t h e r m ore, t h e prote st

Two days later, more than one thousand Japanese

highlighted an important aspect of comfort women in the

civilians were in custody. Okihiro continues to explain

mid-20th century - the hypocrisy of the South Korean

that two-thirds of the internees were American citizens,

government. Anger was directed at Japanese soldiers, but

but underage, American-born Japanese lacked voting

few resent America for its crimes against Korean women.

rights and were still considered threats. The other one-

Professor Walter Hatch of Colby College argues, “Why

third was barred from naturalization by federal law.

should gijichon (camp towns) for U.S. troops be different from comfort stations for Japanese troops?” This does not mean that Japanese treatment of Korean women should be excused, nor does this mean that the Korean government is completely disregarding victims of rape and other forms of sexual assault. But it does emphasize the need to know all sides of an event, bringing into this conflict in Eastern Asia the West Coast of the United States.

O n Fe b r u a r y 1 9 ,

1942, President Franklin D. Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066. Hundreds of

The mindset surrounding this terror against Japanese

thousands of Japanese were rounded up, forced out of

families can be best summarized in a quote from the Los

their homes, and detained in internment camps scattered

Angeles Times: “A viper is nonetheless a viper wherever

across the western half of the United States. It began

the egg is hatched - so a Japanese-American, born of

with, as Gary Okihiro, a former Columbia University

Japanese parents - grows up to be a Japanese, not an

and current Yale professor, writes in Imp ounded,

American.” Japanese soldiers who were removed from the

“that ‘day of infamy, December 7, 1941.’” After the

military were kicked out for being potential spies. Yet, a

Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, American racism, white

mere few years later when they were asked to rejoin the

nationalism, and suspicions launched into a full-scale

army, many refused. Why would they fight for a country

attack against an imagined “fifth column,” a phrase used

that denied them of their rights? When they presented

to describe spies and conspirators within a country.

this argument to the government, they were jailed on 17

18

various grounds, including disloyalty to the United States.

on the government, very much overdue and a result of

public attention, not due to recognition of mistakes.

After the war, many Japanese families found

themselves dislocated - their homes had been given out to

History

is

neither

a

timeline

nor

is

it

white farmers, their belongings sold or abandoned. Despite

straightforward. You may get one narrative, but there

success stories of Japanese “thriving” in their conditions -

will always be multiple others waiting to be heard.

a valid statement as Japanese families made the best out

In my experiences, I never learned about Japanese

of their situations - the cruel treatment they suffered

internment except for one unit in my history class

through went ignored until the late 1980s. According to

that romanticized and sugar-coated the camps, nor

an August 9, 2013 NPR article, “in 1988, President Reagan

did I realize the U.S.’s complicity in the exploitation of

signed the Civil Liberties Act,” which offered a formal

Korean women. Understanding that a story is not two-

apology and $20,000 to each surviving person (Qureshi,

dimensional but rather multifaceted is the first step in

2013). However, this apology came after about 20 years

tackling ignorance we are not aware of and preventing

of ignorance and 10 years of Japanese-American pressure

ourselves from repeating the dark events in history.

S

E

X

P

L

O

R

I

N

G

T

E

R

E

O

T

Y

P

E

ELENA FURUHASHI

S

EDITED BY JESSICA LI & ALEX LAU ILLUSTRATED BY RIVER ZHAO DESIGNED BY GRIFFIN WELLS

“Well, that’s because she’s from Ja-

a chuckle. Growing up in Bangalore,

enthusiastic, about playing with

pan.” It was the summer in second

India, Shreya says she did not

some of the stereotypes, especially

grade when I was at a swimming

face Asian stereotypes

pool with my American cousins,

until she came to

attentively listening to their inter-

college.

esting conversations. After a while,

ing to Vassar

ing a lot, having to call

one of them told me I was quiet

was a whole

parents,

and my other cousin told him it

new dynamic

ring Asian food.

was because of where I was from.

for Shreya. She

This incident strangely stuck with

had not interact-

me for a long time, and I may have

ed with a foreigner

internalized some of it along the

to an extensive level,

way. Existing between worlds, spe-

and while having been exposed to

The usage of “Asian” seems to be

cifically being Asian in another

some stereotypes within regions of

centered mostly around East Asia,

world, can sometimes be confus-

India, none of them were related to

leaving her wondering if she really

ing. The only way to fill in the gaps

race. Once she came to the States,

is Asian or whether she is entitled

of a stereotype is having more peo-

navigating through her minori-

to play with the “Asian” stereotypes.

ple share their stories and thoughts.

ty, Asian, and POC identities was

Shreya pointed out that while the

all new to her. One stereotype that

broad stereotypes of “Asian” can

hurts, she told me, is being asked if

create a sense of unity, they also

she speaks Hindi. Shreya speaks

collapse the diversity behind them.

I

interviewed

Shreya

Suresh ’21 on her experience with

ican friends. These jokes

Com-

Tamil, one of the 22 official

stereotypes.

when she is with her Amerare mostly about studyand

prefer-

Shreya also talk-

ed about how she feels she is “in murky waters” about being Asian in the US.

Though bound with so

languages spoken in the

many labels now, Shreya told me

tells

south of India. Having

how she finally is able to appreciate

me that she

to explain why she does

the fresh perspectives she can bring

is delighted to

not speak Hindi “brings

to the table. She

be asked the

back all of the history of

Shreya

stereotypical

conflict between languag-

question of what her

es” she experienced growing up.

told me her experience her

at

home

name means — “the best” or

On the other hand, Shreya

“toughened

“divine pleasure” — she told me with

feels comfortable, even sometimes

[her] up.” I

was very inspired

time passed, she gradually came to

sics,” mostly tied with the stereo-

she

accept that being herself, if it falls

typical

taken

into certain stereotypes, is noth-

are definintely underrepresented,”

the best out

ing but a mere coincidence. She

Carina says. Conflict arises when

of her expe-

pointed out that microaggressions

Carina, an Asian girl with no Eu-

rience

and

definitely decreased as she became

ropean lineage, couldn’t justify her

sees the way

older but misguided assumptions

passion. However, the fact that the

in which she can

still happened. Incidents like be-

concept of race didn’t really ex-

make it valuable.

ing called by a different name or

ist in the Roman Empire inspired

being recognized as another girl

her to think that nobody is born

by

how

has

Carina Leung 22’ is from

was

not

San Francisco, a

diverse place where being Asian

Eurocentracism.

“Asians

uncommon.

with the qualification to love this

With a long-root-

field. It is not surprising that not

ed interest dat-

as many POC continue in the field

ing back to

and she still gets excited when she

highschool

sees a POC in the field. “It is hard

was not

in

Greek

when you’re in a place when you

so rare

and Roman

have to fight for being there and

while

Studies,

when people may question the

grow-

a field she

reason you are there,” Carina says.

found to be

She also talked about the stereo-

ing

up.

She

faced

dominated

by

types she was put into from her

white men, Ca-

family’s side. Growing up, she did

rina never hesitated

not pay so much attention on read-

in carrying her interest a

ing and writing in Cantonese and

being told her lunch smelled bad or

step further. Privileged by the en-

she did not have a strong preference

that she was pretty for an Asian. One

counter of two amazing teachers

for Chinese food. She also valued

time in 8th grade, a boy even told

in high school, she recollects that

friends in comparison with family.

her to go back on a boat to China,

“They were the ones that lvooked

This resulted in her grandmother

the country her parents are from.

out and saw opportunities in me.”

calling her “the white girl” or hav-

The typical stereotype she found

She points out that she

common in school was Asian girls

thinks positive-

being quiet, submissive and nerdy.

ly of Vassar’s

Being aware of the media stereo-

department

reduced when I

types, she tried not to fit into those

in that it

acknowledge my

about Asian girls. She wasn’t afraid

manage d

growth but other

of speaking up. In high school, she

to

sepa-

people still see

realized that she over-internalized

rate itself

me only through

such stereotypes, restricting her-

from

self to be the way she wanted. As

word “Clas-

some microaggressions when she was younger, such as

the

ing arguments with her family due to different values.

“Sometimes I feel

the framework of stereotypes.”

Ste-

reotypes are hard for everyone

commented that this was what she

to overcome. Her courage of not

loved about Asians-- the respect

letting others take over her per-

and politeness. This was

sonal values is very admirable.

another able

but when you reexamine intentions, they may not seem as different from what is

uncomfort-

natural to you.

experience

Seung Beom Brian Hong ‘19, an

for him, yet the

Though

international student from Yongin,

discomfort

was

the

sam-

Korea, a city near Seoul, went to

hard to pinpoint

ple

might

an International school in

at that moment.

be

small,

On

I was fasci-

Indonesia when he was 8 years old.

His elementary

the

other

hand, Seung Beom

nated by the

mentioned about the

range of stories

school expe-

stereotype he had about

rience, before

Americans when first arrived

he

returned

in the US. He would take people’s

impressed by the collective con-

to Korea in 4th

“what’s up?” greetings very serious-

sciousness shared by all the Asian

grade, shaped a

ly, feeling unresponded and unre-

students. From their personal expe-

lot of him. He does

spected. This impression developed

rience, I have more material to grasp

not remember noticing so

into a negative stereotype of Amer-

what existing between worlds could

many stereotypes in Internation-

icans being “fake.” When he went

mean and how much hurt/joy one

al elementary school. “Probably,

back to Korea for break, he noticed

single phrase could bring. Bringing

kids were not as sensitive to dif-

the presence of similar greetings.

myself back to the pool where I was

ference as to shared identities.”

That’s when he realized that a ques-

confused by how quietness was as-

One of the most common stereo-

tion as such can be a good check-in

sociated with my hometown, I now

types he experienced might be

among the community members.

feel more comfortable in embracing

deliberate assumptions about per-

The interview reminded me that

personal qualities not as influenced

sonal wealth (i.e. “international

at least one part of stereotypes is

from others but as personal charac-

students are rich”). Another com-

about being ignorant of individual

teristics that can be taken positively.

ment he gets a lot here is being

situations or not being able to make

told that his English is very good.

connections within the limited in-

Even

formation one possesses. Some ste-

compliments

can

some-

times be bothersome when they are directed to a fantasized identity or the result of unaware-

that came up in

reotypes

also

may come from dif-

ness or one’s circumstance.

ferent

He recalls a scene in

social

a classroom where he reached

values

out with two hands to receive

in com-

a graded paper. The professor

munities

the interviews. I am very

WHERE’S ASIAN AMERICAN STUDIES, VASSAR?

NICOLE KORMENDI

EDITED BY PETCH KINGCHATCHAVAL DESIGNED & ILLUSTRATED BY JOY FREUND

Silence is a funny thing. It’s the biting of

the cheek, the forced quiet, the invisible hand over mouth, split tongue, absence of voice. But the isolation really gets you — the uneasiness of it. It’s the smallness and the illegitimacy that are so discomforting.

Not learning Asian American Studies was

its own sort of silence. Classroom rulers filled my head with blank spaces and skewed histories. They didn’t teach me about the racialized immigration bans against brown and yellow people, the internment camps, or the lasting effects of US war and empire. Nor did I learn the geopolitics of ethnic enclaves or the Asian American movement of the 60’s and 70’s. My teachers didn’t talk about race. Or when they did, they taught progress narratives of equality and embraced diversity on a surface level, only when it was fun (think cultural dance festivals), only for their own gain (think admissions booklets).

We formed the Vassar Asian American

Studies Working Group (VASAM) out of the conversations we had among ourselves, within communities of color, and with alumni and professors. We dug around and came to the conclusion that Asian American Studies (AAS) has been largely undervalued and ignored at Vassar: the AAS correlate sequence is underdeveloped, we have few professors who teach AAS on campus, and depending on the semester, anywhere from zero to two courses center AAS material.

VASAM is the result of us politicizing our

feelings and by historicizing our politics. We have realized that our frustrations are collective, and thus warrant collective activism. We’ve become familiar with the continuities of isolation within Vassar’s bureaucracy—the sterile committee meetings, the rat race, the empty statements of support—while challenging the systems that seek to divide us. In this environment that fails to represent our histories, we teach ourselves. We draw on past student movements for Critical Ethnic Studies, including the Third World Liberation Front’s strike of ’68, the thirty-four black women who took over Vassar’s Main building in ‘69 to demand a Black Studies program, and Vassar’s Ethnic Studies Coalition of the 2000s.

22

Although VASAM was started last year, in 2018,

this is hardly the first time students have advocated for the establishment of an Asian American Studies program on campus. The first known iteration of our movement traces back to 1979. It’s been forty years since activists first called for Asian American professors to teach Asian American Studies classes. And where have we come since then?

With the resurgence of white nationalism, threats to affirmative action, and increased militarism and surveillance of black and brown communities in the US and abroad, we need Asian American Studies and the context that the field provides us with now more than ever.

23

JOY FREUND, Extraterrestrial, pen on paper, 10.8cm x 8cm, January 2018

h.b. floating palace h.b. floating palace h.b. floating palace h.b. floating palace h.b. floating palace h.b. floating palace h.b. floating palace h.b. floating palace h.b. floating palace h.b. floating palace MIKU MIGITA

EDITED BY PETCH KINGCHATCHAVAL

DESIGNED BY CHRISTA HARYANTO

giving a voice to the silenced theatre makers One night, my friends and I decided to order Chinese food

h.b. floating palace focuses on an elderly Indian couple

and watch a Netflix stand-up called Losing It by Vir Das. The

Sher and Puja who, having lived in the suburb of Massachusetts

hour-long show made me laugh so hard that I choked on my

for 25 years, move to a houseboat in a scenic Himalayan valley

dumplings for most of the time, but there was one particular

of Kashmir. Through their interactions with their son Rohan,

scene that I keep thinking back to.

daughter-in-law Maya, and granddaughter Tara, Sher and Puja

discover the challenges of existing in these two very different “Did you see Black Panther? …It made me so happy to see

African voices, and African perspectives, and African fashion

worlds.

packaged together beautifully to make money for nine white

What makes the play so special is how South Asian cen-

people. It made me so happy guys! …But my point is they still

tered it is. I was fortunate enough to stage-manage this play, and

got their movie. They got Black Panther. Where is ours? Where

I remember my biggest impression was how insistent Rahul was

is Brown Cow?”

on centering it around South Asians. He made it a point to have as many South Asian actors and production team members as

Of course, it is not like every ethnic group must have their

possible. Because of this, the majority of the people on our team

own superheroes and that Avengers must be a racial battlefield.

have had little to no theatre experience, which has made this a

But he does have a point. It’s almost as if Americans are slowly

fascinating collaboration. During auditions, I met so many stu-

beginning to realize that this country does not just consist of

dents who had never auditioned for a Vassar theatre production

white people. I love how the non-white demographic of this na-

before. “This is a new experience, and I’m really nervous,” said

tion, which is roughly 40% of the population, are slowly coming

one, “But I wanted to audition for this show because this has

out of their shells saying, “Wait, it’s okay to be not white?” and

never happened before. It’s exciting that finally, there’s going to

Black Panther and Crazy Rich Asians are standing there with

be a South Asian play at Vassar.”

open arms saying, “Yeah, it’s ok,” and everyone is so bewildered and flattered that they don’t really know what to do about the

It’s easy to blame the lack of Asian representation in

whole situation.

theatre on the lack of interest from Asian students. There’s the

stereotypical Asian idea that theatre should just be a hobby, not It’s sad. It’s sad because films are a medium that reaches a

a career (I myself am responsible for giving my family members

wide audience. The power that drama has on people is immense

many heart attacks by declaring Drama as my major). However,

– it subconsciously sculpts the way we look at our people, our

we must also look at the other side of it: the lack of opportunities

community, and our world. Asian representation has especially

for Asian actors. I don’t know how many times I reluctantly had

been slow in the progress. Take Crazy Rich Asians, for example:

to close an audition application because it required the actor to

we waited 25 years for an all-Asian cast movie to come out since

be white.

The Joy Luck Club. 25 years.

h.b. floating palace is a cultural milestone for Vassar and a Our campus is not much different. How many Asians do we

brave step that Rahul is taking – but it also has its risks. One dis-

see in the Drama Department? How many shows feature Asian

cussion that we have continued to have throughout the rehears-

topics? Rahul Makwana (Class of 2020) is trying to break down

al process has been about how we might convey the context of

this barrier with his original play, h.b. floating palace.

the play without alienating the audience.

26

Should the actors have an accent? Do cultural references need explanations? Additionally, working with people outside the theatre world was a challenge. Why did Rahul decide to take on this difficult project?

“Most plays that are produced at Vassar He says:

are Western stories. I am trying to create space for a non-Western narrative.

Since it’s a story set in India, I am trying to get as many South Asians to be a part of the creative team (and the cast) as possible. I want to make theater accessible for everyone. Many of them will be engaging in theater for the first time and I would to love to see more non-Drama students taking part in student theater.

I have always empathized with elderly people’s desires, dreams, regrets and failures. Hence, I want to spread more love and understanding towards that section of the population. And there has been a shocking rise in intolerance (religious, political, social) in India. Therefore, my principal goal is to talk about this situation through the lens of an elderly couple.”

Courtesy of Mika Migita

What I love about h.b. floating palace is that it is not a play

white audience to consider our works as art? Art should be art,

that screams, “Asian representation!” It is not a play about rac-

and this, I believe, is what Rahul accomplishes through his play.

ism – it is so much more. It is a story about religion, politics, relationships, age, and love told through the perspectives of an old

It is not the content of the play that is political, but the very

Indian couple. Just because the creator of an art piece is a mi-

existence and production of it that makes a statement. Rahul’s

nority, it does not mean that the artwork always has to be politi-

play says, “Hi, we exist. We deserve a platform just like anybody

cal. Why is it that when a white artist produces art (which, as we

else does.” It gives voice to the theatre creators that have been

all know, is the majority of the art pieces put out in the world),

silenced without anyone knowing.

people say, “Wow, what a beautiful piece of art,” but when an artist of color produces art, people shed a tear or two and say, “I can feel the pain”? Why do we have to struggle in order for the 27

HOMECOMING PETCH KINGCHATCHAVAL EDITED BY KHÁNH LY NGUYỄN DESIGNED BY CHRISTA HARYANTO

I was born and raised in Bangkok, Thailand — also known as Khrung Thep Maha Nakhon, Siam, The Land of Smiles, or winner of “Number-One Global Destination for International Tourists” for the past three years, depending on who you ask.

Coincidentally, I’ve spent the majority of those three years far away from home. I’ve spent them reading Foucault, eating dining-hall scrambled eggs, and driving on the right side of the road. I’ve spent them talking about Congress and pre-registration and The Bachelor, drinking Blue Moon IPAs from My Market and writing Moodle posts about the male gaze.

Being from the “Number-One Global Destination For International Tourists”,

I get my fair share of messages from friends/acquaintances/one-time classmates who are worn out from their summertime backpacking adventures across Southeast Asia.

They’re tired of sharing hostel bathrooms with perspiring boys in elephant pants and white women with dreadlocks, and are just wondering if they could possibly stay with me for a couple days and meet my family and you know, catch up and everything?

I tend to say yes. I always find it an interesting experience — sometimes

cringe-inducing and other times eye-opening — to bring visitors through my city, to lift them out of their context and into mine. I like seeing familiar places through their eyes and hearing how their expectations of Bangkok match up to the all-too-often sweaty reality. One summer, after visiting the shopping centre that’s been a second home for me and my siblings, where my mum has run her jewelry shop since before I learned to read, my friend asked if we could visit somewhere “more authentic, like a spice market or something?” I’ve never been to a spice market in my life.

Image courtesy of Swann Galleries

Sometimes I think Thailand’s reputation precedes it too much. The visions of

golden temples, orange-clad monks, palm trees and The Hangover 2 often loom too large, like a tracing-paper sketch that doesn’t quite line up with the original drawing.

Can authenticity even be found in a place so built up in the popular imagination, in a place that’s been specifically curated and rebuilt to appeal to tourists?1

I love my home. Three years of a liberal arts education and the occasional

political podcast have taught me that nationalism is a nasty thing, but I can’t help the little thrill of pride that zips through me when I tell someone I come from Thailand. I live where you vacation. I love my home, but I didn’t always appreciate it. Sometimes I think I’ve never loved it more than I do now. Strange paradox: the longer I am away from home, the more connected I feel to it. When I’m in New York City, I strain my ears listening for the familiar singsong tones of Thai voices. I’ve started drinking Heineken instead of IPAs. It reminds me of home, reminds me of my dad, even though he gave up drinking when I was fourteen, well before my first real sip of alcohol. According to Spotify, most of my ‘Top Songs of 2018!’ are by Thai artists, even though I never listened to any Thai music when I lived at home. When I’m eating tepid scrambled eggs for the fifth breakfast in a row, my thoughts drift to custardy bowls of โจ๊กหมู heaped with coriander and ginger, a classic Thai comfort food, with the power to soothe upset stomachs, hangovers and heartbreaks... and one that I used to refuse when I was little.

I wonder whether the Thailand I have come to love really exists: whether it

is just something that I’ve constructed for myself, not unlike the spice markets and meditation retreats that tourists dream of. The dream might be different, but the intent is essentially the same. Am I just creating a vision of home that serves my needs? One where my presence is a positive thing; a place that fits me, that I fit into.

I am displaced by choice. Voluntary diaspora. I decided to leave. But what does

that mean for my return? Each time I take off from JFK, where am I going? Bangkok, Thailand. Khrung Thep Maha Nakhon. Siam. The Land of Smiles. Home?

1

And their generous contributions to the floundering economy.

29

dragon boat: home kong Everyone has a different way

of celebrating their culture.

to convince me, and a week

Within the Asian diaspora,

later, we headed to Lake

there is incredible variety in

Parsippany. I don’t remem-

the ways that we choose to

ber a lot of what happened

make meaning of our iden-

during that first practice, but

tities and find connections

what I do know is that I fell

with our roots. For me, I feel

mysteriously in love with the

most comfortable in my skin

sport. Today, after spending

and proud of who I am when

six seasons on the water and

I’m in a dragon boat.

winning three world championship medals, I still feel

I first discovered the tradi- the same love and connection tional Chinese/Hong Konger

to my heritage that I experi-

sport of dragon boat seven

enced on that very first day.

years ago, when my father mentioned to me that he had

In January of 2018, I was

found a recreational dragon

lucky enough to have the

boat club close to our home

opportunity to study abroad

in central New Jersey. He

at the University of Hong

used to race with a team in

Kong. My being there was

Queens, where he grew up,

strange for a lot of reasons,

but quit after he moved. Now,

but most of them stemmed

he wanted me to join him

from my positionality, which

at a practice with this new

felt awkward and full of

team, which met about half

contradictions: I was coming

an hour north of our house.

from the West, but my fam-

After some spirited debate,

ily is originally from Hong

which mostly consisted of

Kong. I looked the part, but I

me protesting over and over

identified most with Western

again that “I don’t like sports

culture with everything from

and exercise,” he managed

pop-culture to gastronomic and political references. I spoke somewhat passable Cantonese, but couldn’t

MATTHEW AU read characters and had to constantly ask (in Cantonese) for English menus. Finally, and most shockingly to other Asian-Americans I met in Hong Kong, I hadn’t ever been to Asia before. In fact, this was my first trip outside of the Western hemisphere.

This somewhat uncomfortable in-betweenness was made especially apparent to me when I joined a recreational dragon boat team in southern Hong Kong called Buzz Dragon 霸士龍, which was an eclectic mix of locals and expats. I bonded most easily with the expats from the UK and Canada, because of our cultural similarities and shared pop culture, but also felt a certain kinship with my Hong Kong brethren, particularly because we used Cantonese to communicate and ate very similar foods at home.

As I spent more time on the water that semester, I learned a great deal about dragon boat racing in its purest,

most traditional form. In Hong Kong, there are two dragon boat circuits: one for the expats, and one for the locals. Expat teams are occasionally corporate, but are more typically recreational and are composed of predominantly white expats, who race almost exclusively against other expat teams.

One very famous example is the team informally known as the “Beasts of the Island”: the Victoria Recreation Club, or VRC. It was founded by Britons in 1849 during the British occupation of Hong Kong, and is now a feeder for Great Britain’s national dragon boat team. Local teams, which have even longer histories, have been formed for generations by fishermen villages, and since dragon boat racing runs in their veins, the competition on this circuit is fierce. Fishermen teams are usually named after their places of origin: for instance, a famous team from the island is called South Eagle. However, not just any team can choose to

30

to hold onto for the day, to represent that each team was competing in the races. After all the races were finished, our flags were given back to us during the splashing ceremony, signifying the official

race in the local circuit; only fishermen communities are allowed. Luckily, because of some connections that members of our team had, and the fact that half of our members were locals, Buzz Dragon had the unique honor of racing in both the expat and local fishermen circuits.

As someone who had been paddling for many years, the coolest part about dragon boat in Hong Kong was that competition wasn’t everything. Who won and who lost wasn’t nearly as important as

as it was nicknamed by our

end of the race day.

team, where all of the teams

would finish racing, join

Though it did feel like a

boats and splash each other

homecoming of sorts, my

for at least ten minutes, with

experience of studying and

formed before or after a race;

the unspoken intention of

dragon boating abroad in

the sport has become sterile

sinking the other boats, all

Hong Kong truly made

and detached from its history

in good fun, of course. Some

me ponder my place in the

and origins with Hong Kong

teams brought water guns,

world and the aspects of my

fishermen. It was incredibly

some brought buckets, others

identity that are caught in

eye-opening for me to im-

used water bottles, and others

between different parts of it. I

merse myself in these long-

simply splashed with their

know that my second home,

held traditions and rites, and

paddles; it was the single

second family, and second

learn more about the origins

most purely joyful experience

dragon boat team are just a

of the sport that has long tied

of my five months in Hong

sixteen-hour flight away, but

me so directly to my heritage.

Kong, and it was made even

my connection to these two

better by the fact that this

worlds is something that will

My most standout memo-

practice had ancient origins

always stay with me.

ry of a ceremony that has

of great cultural importance.

now been lost in the West

At the beginning of race day,

occurred at a race in Stanley,

every team would also bring

a part of the island best-

their special village/team

known by tourists for its

flag to shore for race officials

winding markets, picturesque beaches, and oceanview bars.

It was at this race that I first participated in the “post-race closing splashing ceremony,”

having fun, being together, and keeping traditions alive.

In the West, none of the traditional ceremonies, rituals, or superstitions are per-

EDITED BY PETCH KINGCHATCHAVAL DESIGNED BY GRIFFIN WELLS

31

Living Insurance HIKARI TANAKA EDITED BY ALEXANDRA LAU DESIGNED BY SUNMIN PARK ILLUSTRATION BY RIVER ZHAO

“Natsumi!”

The girl slid across the creaky wooden floor in her Hello Kitty socks and rounded a corner to the only door in the small hallway. The paper sliding door was slightly ajar, and thin strands of icy air breathed into the otherwise cinderblock of heat. The girl paused slightly, one hand on the door before — “Natsumi, come in now!”, and she jerked the door to the side. She slipped in.

The girl sighed as the cool air greeted her. She spread out her toes like a chicken on the clean linoleum floor, so different from the worn, warm wood in the hallway. Natsumi glanced up at the large, cylindrical, up-right capsule before her; noodles of gray, black, and the occasional red, wires writhed from the capsule to connect to a mound of blankets on a hospital bed. At her mother’s beckoning, Natsumi obediently came forward between her mother and grandmother to the bedside. The grandmother sniffed contemptuously and leaned forward, straightening out the creases in Natsumi’s sundress before taking the girl’s hand and drawing her closer towards her. Natsumi’s mother stiffened, a polite smile plastered on her face. The grandmother ignored it and turned to the young girl with a kind smile, reaching up and stroking the hair stuck to her forehead.

“You are a very, very good girl, Natsumi,” she said gently. Natsumi nodded.

“It is a family’s duty to properly raise their child, and it is the child’s responsibility to support the family for caring them. This is how it has always been and how it will always be. You understand this, of course, yes?”

Natsumi nodded again.

“Without your parents, you wouldn’t have been born. And in turn without your grandparents, your parents.

This is very important,” her grandmother said solemnly. “We bestowed on you your life.”

32

Another nod.

“I took care of my parents and grandparents too. We all use… we all spend time for the most important people.

For family.” The grandmother said, more to herself than anyone else, but Natsumi nodded anyway.

“Ah yes, in the past-” “May we please start?” Natsumi’s mother interrupted, and the grandmother shot her an irritable glance. Mother forced a tight smile that threatened to freeze into a glower. The grandmother glared before turning back to her granddaughter, all smile with a hint of crocodile.

“Oh Natsumi,” she cooed. “In the past people were not all so impatient or rude to their elders, as your mother Minori can attest to. Promise me you won’t become like your mother, Natsumi?”

Natsumi paused. Her mother’s eyes moved from behind her daughter to fix onto her mother-in-law, the painted smile disintegrating to a look drenched in poison as her daughter slowly nodded. Grandmother threw Minori a triumphant smile over Natsumi’s shoulder.“Well but, I suppose we may begin, Natsumi,” she mused casually, opening the door to the upright capsule and guiding Natsumi in. The girl sat down in the metal chair inside. The door closed softly behind her.

“I don’t know what my son saw in you, but at least a child came out of it.” The grandmother watched Natsumi put on the headset inside with a practiced hand. “We can still get some more out of her yet.”

Minori finally snapped. “You monsters!” she hissed. “How you can do this to your own family, your own granddaughter, as though—” “You answer to me, the mistress of the house,” the grandmother stated matter-of-factly. She stared down her nose at the seething woman. “My son had never loved you, had divorced you for heaven’s sake; you’re lucky my husband and I didn’t abandon you and your child.”

Minori’s jaw dropped. “Love- I became pregnant because your son-” The grandmother snarled, “I will not hear of this, not in this house and not by some cheap woman!”

Minori choked as hot tears stung her eyes. “I never-”

33

“Silence.”

The two women froze as the hospital bed shifted. A frail voice drifted over the faint beeping of the instruments.

“Kimiko. I do not want to hear you scream.”

The grandmother bowed her head. “Please excuse me, I have allowed my emotions to overcome me.” She exited the room without a second glance.

“Minori.”

Minori swallowed. “Yes, father?”

“How are Natsumi’s grades?”

“She secures very good grades, father. The teachers have high expectations-” “Minori.” He repeated slowly. “How. Are. Natsumi’s. Grades?”

Minori sucked in a breath. The room tilted sharply. Her vision focused in and out even as she numbly answered, “She is second in her year.”

“I see. Well then, we shall continue the operation as per our agreement, yes Minori?” “... yes.”

“You understand that this is very fair. Our country depends on traditions, and yet I was still very generous with this contract…” A deep sigh came from the bed. “I do not want to do this either, you must know. She is blood-related.

If only Natsumi could have used that time wisely.”

Minori struggled to swallow. She stared hard at the spotless floor.

“Just like with money, only people who are hardworking and show results, people who are first, deserve good things,” father said. “The elderly suffer much for the young, and we have proven our hard work for this nation. I wonder who would bring more back to the family given the same time?”

“Please father.” Minori’s voice cracked into a whisper. “Just, just a little more, please let her be a child for a little longer, even if it’s just tomorrow, she’s, she’s only-” The frail voice replied kindly. “I am sorry Minori, but Japan runs on results and family. That is how it has always been and I must do what I can to support us all. Now, if you please, the switch.”

When Minori didn’t move, the patriarch’s voice became sterner, although no less gentle.

“Minori. If you do not obey, neither you nor Natsumi will have a place in my house. We are a family of hardworkers and those who are lazy do not deserve anything, nor are a part of our household. You simply must understand.”

Minori robotically willed her body to the capsule, staring at her daughter inside, etching the image of her tall pig-tailed daughter into her mind. The pink sundress Minori herself wore in high school was the only dress Natsumi wanted out of all of her clothes that would fit. Minori swallowed as she thought of just this morning when the seventeen year old girl reluctantly wore the dress, her face pulled into a disgruntled frown.

“Oh Natsumi,” her mother whispered, touching the glass door with her fingertips. It was freezing cold. “I’m so sorry.” As if in a daze, Minori pressed the green button on the side of the capsule. An electronic voice beeped as the glass slowly began to cloud over. “Operation commencing… “ Minori desperately stared into the fog before she found Natsumi, the internal five year old staring out blankly from the seventeen year old body.

“Ten year life transfer from Natsumi Kureno to Atsushi Kureno commencing now.”

34

PROFESSOR SPOTLIGHT featuring Sophia Harvey and Hua Hsu

35

Sophia Harvey | Interviewed by ALEX KIM Department(s): Film, Asian Studies | Vassar since 2008 Other careers: documentary co-producer/associate producer (Food Network, National Geographic, Discovery Times) Where did you grow up? Tell us a little bit about your background.

I am from Singapore. My father is Singaporean Indian and my mother is from Montana; they met at the University of Montana and got married in 1968. After their marriage, my mother moved to Singapore with my father, but we lived in Indonesia and Germany as well because my father was a diplomat for the Singaporean government. The high school I went to in Germany had television studios and production classes for students, and I became very interested in media after the exposure. Before university, I took a gap year in Singapore; the year shaped my trajectory as a student and eventually as an academic.

What did you do in your gap year?

I was very lucky to have interned at the television station in Singapore and had access to unedited satellite footage of the Gulf War. It was impossible not to be caught up in the whirlpool of politics, social justice, and the simple adrenaline of being an intern, and by the end of my internship there, I produced two stories for Singapore television.

Courtesy of Alex Kim

At the same time, I very much enjoyed exploring different kinds of theater in Singapore. This again was serendipity and I encourage everyone to remain open to the magic of everyday life — my friend and I were walking past the sign “try out for this play!”, and I got my first role!

I also took film production classes whenever I could and met friends who I still keep in touch with, who are currently working in the film industry.

That year was immensely impactful because I was completely immersed in television, theater, and the arts. After my gap year, I enrolled in University of Southern California (USC) and double majored in Film and Anthropology. My undergraduate studies set my path and affected the way I teach film. When I teach film, I not only look at aesthetics but also examine how the films function as cultural texts, how they speak to or engage with cultural and political moments. I went back to Singapore for another internship at the National Archives of Singapore after my graduation, and conducted art history interviews, which set me on a firmer path to a doctorate.

I received my PhD from the University of Southern California School of Cinematic Arts and wrote my dissertation on Singapore cinema.

What brought you to Vassar?

When I was looking for a job, Vassar was looking for faculty in the film department as well as someone who could teach about Asia. This was an incredibly rare gift and opportunity because at the time there were few jobs that would have allowed me to explore Asian cinema. I applied, fell in love with the beautiful campus — even in the bleak month of February — and came to also love the department, my colleagues, and especially the students I’ve met; I am always struck by how intellectually curious and passionate the students are at Vassar.

36

What classes do you teach at Vassar?

I teach a number of courses that majors have to take, but my speciality is contemporary Southeast Asian cinema. This semester, our focus regions are Vietnam and Thailand, and the other class I teach is Asian Horror from Southeast Asia and South Asia. I’ve also taught Indian national cinema before.

How did your Asian/Asian American identity play out in your career as a professor in the United States? Did your Asian identity determine your career choice at all?

Certainly. My Singaporean identity and my exposure to the arts in Singapore and films from Southeast Asia from a young age played a huge role in determining my career choice, and I have never really considered areas of research and writing that do not involve Asia in some way. Living and teaching in California, however, opened my eyes to the complexity of diaspora and Asian American identity, and the whole kind of Southeast Asian diaspora. When I was teaching a course on the variations within Southeast Asian cinema at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), I had Cambodian American students whose parents fled from Cambodia during the genocide. The course became almost a conduit for the students, who began to open up conversations about their own histories and families using these films. It was an incredibly powerful experience in my teaching career and I learned that films matter in more visceral ways than we imagine in terms of human emotion and reconciliation. My Singaporean identity has shaped my scholarship, but the way that I teach about Asia and the kind of students I had also shaped me as a teacher.

Tell us about your research! How did you become interested in your research areas?

My primary area is contemporary Singapore cinema. The genres I enjoy teaching and writing are Asian horror and Global Science fiction (Indian/Thai sci-fi films). I am currently working on writing a manuscript that explores contemporary Singaporean cinema, and the relationship between the senses, cinema, and belonging. I examine a number of films that emerged in the early 2000s that used the senses to explore what it meant to be Singaporean at that particular point. The other project is going to be another book on horror — especially Asian horror. Sometimes, I also work on documentaries, and one of them is going to be about the aftermath of the Cambodian Genocide.

What are some things you like to do outside work?

I like to cook (mainly Indian food) and knit. I am a terrible potter, but I am taking classes now! I ran a 5k and have tried short distance triathlons before, and I sometimes hoolahoop. At heart, however, I am a couch potato.

Do you have anyone whom you consider a role model or someone you look up to?

I have three people that I look up to, and they are all family members. My mother is a sociologist and published a lot on Southeast Asian religions and Singaporean cultures (particularly the representation of race and ethnicity in Singapore), and I learned what it meant to live a life of the mind. From my father, who was a diplomat, I learned the value of lifelong service — education naturally drew my attention because it combined both lessons from my parents. My grandmother on my mother’s side was an English teacher in High School, and we bonded over teaching. From her, I learned the commitment and dedication to being a teacher.

Last question. If there is any, could you share one goal you want to achieve?

I have two! I want to learn two languages: Spanish and Khmer, the official Cambodian language.

Flip the page for Hua Hsu’s inte rview!

Hua Hsu | Interviewed by GRACE HAN Where is your family from? Tell us a little bit about your background.

My family is from Taiwan and China. I was born in Illinois at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, where many Asian Americans were conceived and born in the 70s and 80s; I was born in 1977. We lived in Texas and then Southern California, but I spent most of my formative years in the Bay Area.

What brought you to come all the way to Poughkeepsie, New York to Vassar College and become a professor?

I went to Berkeley for college which was a change [from the South Bay] but not too much of a change because so many people from the South Bay ended up going to Berkeley. It was a really great place, generally, and I really loved college.

But I dreamed of moving to New York. I think a lot of it had to do with the music that I was listening to, and just this fantasy of what life on the East Coast was like. I read a lot of music magazines and they were all based in New York. And, it just seemed like culture was somewhere else.

Courtesy of Karl Rabe Department(s): English, American Studies | Vassar since 2007 Other careers: staff writer at The New Yorker, author of A Floating Chinaman: Fantasy and Failure Across the Pacific

So, I graduated from Berkeley and then I went to grad school at Harvard and I mainly went for the novelty of going to Harvard. Again, the East Coast is a weird concept for someone who’d always lived in California, so I just wanted to go to the East Coast and Harvard happened to be the East Coast school that I got into–which, it’s weird to put it that way, but I figured if I never finish then I’ll at least have this really novel experience of having gone to Harvard which I knew from, like, Good Will Hunting and all these movies. So, I went, and I remember just being really unprepared for the weather. I had this military parka that I would wear in California and look really out of place. But the minute I moved to the East Coast, I would just wear it as soon as it hit 40 in October, and this older grad student pulled me aside and said, “You’re going to want to put that away for a couple of months because it’s going to get much colder than this.” And it was this moment where I realized, I’m not an East Coast person. Anyhow, I went to grad school and I eventually moved to New York during graduate school and then I applied for a job at Vassar because it was pretty close to New York and I just wanted to stay in the area.

Do you feel as though your Asian American identity influenced your career choice at all? If so, how did your Asian American identity play a role?

So, I grew up with a lot of Asian American people and I was going back to Taiwan all the time, and I don’t think I ever felt the sense of alienation that people who grew up in predominantly non-Asian settings felt growing up. When I got to college though, I took a lot of Asian American studies classes and that really focused a lot of things that I felt and understood but had never truly articulated.

You have this inventory of ways of being and speaking and laughing and thinking that scramble any sense that there’s an authentic Asian American: you just know that authenticity resides in this eclectic mix of people.

Also, when I was young, I realized that I was bad at math and science. But I was okay at writing and I liked the idea of being able to do this thing that my parents couldn’t really do. Not because I wanted to show them up or anything but because I wanted to advocate for them. And so, I think I just really got into the idea of writing and having opinions. I thought I would just become a lawyer because I didn’t think it would be possible to become a writer or professor.

When you don’t see people doing the things you want to do, you just assume that it’s because it’s impossible. I think my identity has influenced my sense of what’s possible in a way that used to be really, perhaps, self-limiting but now I’m more comfortable with that.

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So growing up, if you didn’t see a lot of people doing the things that you want to do, who would you say you were able to look up to and consider as your role models?

I feel like the people I look up to, I look up to for very intimate reasons. You know, my grandfather was really involved in the senior citizen community in Sunnyvale. After he passed away, we found all his notes from when he took the citizenship exam and he learned ceramics and he just had a really vibrant life as a senior citizen. And, I really admire that.

Professionally—there were people who I saw as mentors, like my friend Oliver Wang and another friend Jeff Chang. It was really important for me to have these guys who cared about me but also wanted me to flourish. They lived their lives with curiosity and integrity, and that’s meant a lot to me.

When I was in college, I really looked up to my professors. I’ve always really appreciated people who took their work really seriously but didn’t take themselves seriously. I think that’s why even though what it means to be a college professor is very different from what I thought it meant when I was a student wanting to do this, it’s a privilege to talk to people and share ideas. So, I take that part really seriously. It’s born out of the people who inspired me.

What classes do you teach here?

Asian American Literature; Literary Nonfiction; a 6-week lecture course called Imagining the City; first year writing seminars on different topics; I really enjoyed teaching this class called Musical Urbanism with Leonard Nevarez but we haven’t taught it in a while. The past few years, I’ve been chairing American Studies, so I’ve been trying to teach the same classes.

Your research and academic interests include Asian American Studies, Transpacific Studies, Critical Ethnic Studies, Popular Culture and Subculture, Essays, Literary Non-fiction. How did you become interested in your research areas?

Berkeley has an Asian American Studies department—not just a program, but an actual staffed department, so there were a lot of classes that you could take. I majored in political science for reasons that I am still trying to wrap my head around. I had this incredible professor named Michael Rogin who really changed my life. He was the one really radical mind in that department and he got me interested in the core of US History. He helped put America into this framework that I found incredibly exciting and where I could see myself as a part of critical tradition. That’s why when we talk about ethnic studies on campus, it’s always important to anchor a lot of those inquiries in more traditional or historical perspectives that you may not think are that interesting. They give you the surface against which to project these ideas that excite you more. You have to learn the canon in order to figure out what you don’t like about it or what kind of power you can draw from it.

When I started writing as a journalist, I wrote a lot about hip hop.

Primarily because writing about popular music was just a way of writing about race, class, culture, and identity without writing

about race, class, culture, and identity—it was just a proxy for these political ideas that I was interested in.

You mentioned you were putting together an exhibit at MOCA; how’s that been going and what has the process been like in pursuing such a project?

It’s one of the best things that I’ve ever been a part of. As someone who’s been working as a journalist for twenty years, I sort of forgot that there are other ways to communicate information and ideas.

And so, a friend of mine who’s a curator at MOCA named Herb Tam asked me if I could give him some feedback on this exhibit that he was putting together. I was really excited about this music show and I thought, “I can’t wait to write about it!” And then I had this moment where I thought, “Wait, I think it’d be more fun to be a part of it than to write about it.” So, I asked him, and he was shocked that I would want to do something like that, and I was like, “I’m shocked that you would let me do something like that.”

For Chinese Americans, there are these different musical communities. So, the question was how to put together a show that honored that eclectic mix while still telling a coherent story.

So, it was a really fun challenge. We ended up creating a bunch of basically mini-exhibits where we would juxtapose things that didn’t seem like they were meant to be together. I’m just thankful that they let me be a part of it.

Last question. Could you share one goal you want to achieve?

This sounds really lame, but I just want to continue living. The idea of achieving a work-life balance has always been elusive to me and it was always something that I was actually disinterested in achieving because, for whatever reason, it was easier to be busy all the time. But I want to be more deliberate and present, which sounds kind of banal, but we live in such a hectic and fast time that I kind of want to slow down.

When I was young, I really wanted to just be somewhere else—not in a desperate way. It just always seemed like exciting stuff was happening somewhere else or I just missed out on something.

People here talk about the good old days of Vassar and I’m just like, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it sounds good.”

I think it’s important to think about what’s worth your energy, and to know what you’re using your energy to do. I think back to when I was in college and how I was really eager to move to New York or to do whatever I thought I would do in life, and now when I think back, I really cherish these things that I’ll never be able to do again. Like, I taught at this youth center for Mien and Hmong kids and took them to see R-rated movies; I interned for the Black Panther newspaper. I would spend a lot more time than I had to editing the Asian American student paper. At the time, I thought all of it was in order to position me to go somewhere else. But now, I’m like, no, the value was just doing those things at the time that I did them. So, sometimes when I talk to students, I feel they’re eager for a kind of change that they’re actually living inside. It’s probably the most 41-year old thing about me that I think more about being more attentive to the present and appreciating the moment. It’s a real thing, though.

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Ethnic Niches & the Pursuit

of the American

Dream

FRANCES TIAN EDITED BY JESSICA LI & ALEX KIM ILLUSTRATED BY RIVER ZHAO DESIGNED BY GRIFFIN WELLS

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With almost 40 million views, comedian Anjelah Johnson’s “Nail Salon” stand-up bit is one of Youtube’s most popular stand-up videos. In this video, she describes her experience getting her nails done at the salon, mimicking the technician’s Vietnamese accent and mocking the language. The video has received mixed reactions, with some praising the accuracy of Johnson’s accent, while others call out the problematic nature of these jokes. Anjelah, who is of Mexican and Native American descent, reduces these hardworking Vietnamese nail salon workers to caricatures for others to laugh at.

In America, there are other jobs that are commonly held by people of a certain ethnicity - called an ethnic niche (Zhou). The association between Vietnamese immigrants and working as nail technicians is perhaps the most well-known example of this. However, many are unaware of the history behind these stereotypes, choosing to make fun of them and their jobs. Despite facing immense challenges in a new country, these people have persisted and put in the hard work to achieve the American dream.

After the end of the Vietnam War in 1975, some Vietnamese refugees took shelter in Camp Hope, which is located in Sacramento.

On a visit to this camp, actress Tippi Hedren’s (known for Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds and Marnie) manicured nails attracted the Vietnamese women.

Hoping to aid these refugees in finding jobs, Hedren decided to call her personal manicurist over to Camp Hope. A group of twenty women learned the ins and outs of being a nail technician every weekend, eventually graduating from beauty school and becoming licensed beauticians (Bates). These refugees had escaped Vietnam, leaving behind family, friends, and jobs. Some were highly educated, holding well-respected positions back in Vietnam. However, because of the language barrier and the urgent need for a steady income in America, these women became nail technicians. Eventually, these women would change the nail polish business in America. With the influx of nail salons, the prices of manicures dropped and became accessible to all classes. Today, the nail business in America is worth around 8 billion dollars, and around half of the nail technicians in the United States are from Vietnam (Morris). Many second-generation Vietnamese-Americans continued their family businesses, while others, because of their parents, were able to explore other career opportunities.

This ethnic niche is also seen with Indian immigrants and owning motels. Today, almost half of all hotels in the United States are owned by people of Indian descent. Tufts Sociology professor Pawan Dinghra sought to find the origins of this phenomenon in his book “Life Behind The Lobby: Indian American Motel Owners and the American Dream”. In this book, he explains how the first motel owner in the United States was a man named Kanjibhai

Desai, from the state of Gujarati. As his business flourished, he encouraged other immigrants from Gujarati to open motels, often providing loans and advice. The idea of running a motel was appealing to Indian immigrants: fluency in English was not required, nor was it expensive.

However, in order to make motels seem appealing to American customers, Indian motel owners often made efforts to hide their culture and heritage. If they could afford it, owners would hire White or Hispanic workers to tend the front desk. When Indian food was cooking, they would make sure to turn on fans so that the smell wouldn’t turn away customers. A lot of hard work was put into running this business, and the lack of a clear boundary between work and home made it difficult to fully relax. Nonetheless, these sacrifices paved the pathway to the American dream, providing stability and future opportunities for these immigrants and their children. Just like the Vietnamese nail salon businesses in the United States, the entrepreneurial spirit is passed down to the lower generations, as some continue to run their parents’ motel businesses or decide to buy their own hotels to run.

Although there has been a decline in recent years, in the 1980s the presence of Korean-run grocery stores was ubiquitous in cities, especially New York City. After restrictions regarding Asian immigration were lifted in the Immigration Act of 1965, the Korean immigrant population in the United States increased swiftly. Like other immigrants, Koreans faced a language barrier when searching for jobs. Pyong Gap Min, a sociology professor at Queens College, studied the history behind Korean immigrants’ dominance of the grocery store business.

Despite being in highly-respected professions back in Korea, the only jobs that were available to Korean immigrants paid minimum wage. Owning a business, such as a grocery store, was a more practical choice because of the relatively low rent and constant cash flow. Fresh fruit and vegetables were hard to find during the 80s, so this made these grocery stores especially popular. And like the other stories, the community of Korean immigrants played a vital role in achieving the American dream. Friends would combine their funds or offer loans to newly arrived immigrants looking to open a business of their own. They would offer advice, helping others work towards success.

Owners of these grocery stores would often get up before dawn and close at 10pm, devoting their lives to their businesses. This gave second-generation Korean-Americans the opportunity to attend college and become even more

successful than their parents. Today, running a brick and mortar store is much more costly, so most second-generation Korean-Americans choose to pursue alternative careers. Still, a majority of Korean immigrants are of high socioeconomic status and considered one of the most successful immigrant groups in the United States (Zong).

All these ethnic niches that are present in today’s society are a result of ambitious, brave immigrants that wanted a taste of the American dream. Choosing to leave the familiarity of home for a completely foreign environment requires a certain kind of grit not everyone possesses. These immigrants have played an integral part in transforming the economic landscape of America, yet are still laughed at and seen as un-American. I hope that by exposing the stories behind these ethnic niches, the next time you walk into an immigrant-run business, you can appreciate the history behind what led them to this point. More importantly, I hope that we can think twice before we make fun of their accent, their job, or their culture.

Sources: Bates, Karen Grigsby. “Nailing The American Dream, With Polish.”

NPR, NPR, 14 June 2012, www.npr.org/2012/06/14/154852394/ with-polish-vietnamese-immigrant-community-thrives.

Ferdous, Ismail. “How Indian Americans Came to Run Half of All U.S. Motels.” National Geographic, National Geographic, 4 Sept.

2018, www.nationalgeographic.com/culture/2018/09/ south-asia-america-motels-immigration/.

Morris, Regan. “How Tippi Hedren Made Vietnamese Refugees into Nail Salon Magnates.” BBC News, BBC, 3 May 2015, www.bbc. com/news/magazine-32544343.

O’Connor, Allison, and Jeanne Batalova. “Korean Immigrants in the United States.” Migration Policy Institute, 10 Apr. 2019, www. migrationpolicy.org/article/korean-immigrants-united-states.

“The Korean American Success Story.” BBC News, BBC, 30 Mar. 2011, www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-12888908.

Virani, Aarti. “Why Indian Americans Dominate the U.S. Motel Industry.” The Wall Street Journal, Dow Jones & Company, 11 June 2012, blogs.wsj.com/indiarealtime/2012/06/11/why-in dian-americans-dominate-the-u-s-motel-industry/.

Zhou, Min. “Ethnic Enclaves and Niches.” The Encyclopedia of Global Human Migration, 2013, doi:10.1002/9781444351071 . wbeghm201.

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In a recent interview with The Art Newspaper, Hans

Ubrich Obrist, artistic director of the Serpentine Galleries and a super-curator of sorts, said that “I believe in this idea of junction-making. We can only solve some of the big challenges of the twenty-first century if we go beyond the fear of pooling knowledge […] I am also driven by the importance of memory.” Obrist explains that he wants to save writing and, in turn, prevent the extinction of cultural phenomena through his use of Instagram. Scroll through his profile and you will see several dictums in several handwritings: “Change and difference are the key components to appreciation,” “Always strive and prosper,” and “Migration is older than language” written by the sculptor Conrad Shawcross.

Migration predates language, since the history of

humans is the history of migration. But it can also facilitate language, in all its forms, including visual art. Migrate is a fund created in 2016 by Simon Butler to help fight the global refugee crisis. In the face of an issue so broad as to seem unbeatable, and unlike many of the dubious charity organizations that have cropped up in response to the crisis, Migrate’s stated goal is to “aim for simplicity”. They have four main charity partners, including RefuAid, which provides language tuition and family reunification to refugees in the UK, and The Lotus Flower, which helps displaced women and children become financially independent.

Charitable art :

Multicolour and “junction-making” in the refugee crisis TAYLOR STEWART EDITED BY PETCH KINGCHATCHAVAL DESIGNED SUNMIN PARK ARTWORK BY SARA SHAMMA, ALEIN: TWO HEADS, 2019 42

They are an unconventional charity, not only because of their status as a pro-

fessedly simple organization in “an industry full of red tape and bureaucracy,” but also because they make their profits through contemporary art sales. They have worked with Christie’s, a British auction house which, in 2017, sold da Vinci’s rendering of Christ Salvator Mundi for a record-breaking $400 million. They also sell donated works to private clients. After these sales, Migrate sends their profits to their charity partners.

We rarely think of the art world in tandem with hot-button “political” or hu-

man rights issues like the international migrant crisis. In fact, I might have said the two are totally incompatible: why and how can people be eating pâtés at a Sotheby’s auction house, where there is a single painting going for half a billion, whilst there is such a staggering outpouring of refugees from conflict zones? How can collecting da Vincis and Modiglianis be a hobby for some when whole countries—when whole groups of countries—struggle to accommodate billions of displaced people?

But art—and the art industry at large—is more complicated than that: not only

is art inherently political, and always reflecting the biases of its creator, but it can also be a tool to raise money, facilitate dialogues (no matter how quippy and simple, as on Obrist’s Instagram), and bolster efforts like Migrate, in which aid flows from buyers to sellers to charities, with art as a byproduct. Migrate Art illustrates Obrist’s commitment to “junction-making,” connecting donors to the needy and preserving the handmade.

Calais Jungle was a refugee camp and migrant center outside the northern

French port city of Calais. At its peak, the camp housed around ten thousand people.

Since 1999, Calais, which is close to the main ferry route between France and England, has contained a series of migrant reception facilities: when the first camp got overcrowded, it was shut down in 2002. Likewise, the most recent camp was demolished in October 2016. With news of demolition came several photos of piles of suitcases, people in thick layers hauling their bags—one picture shows a man spraypainting a tent at the camp with the date everyone was to be evicted. There was also much outrage concerning unaccompanied children at the Jungle, many of whom sought asylum in the UK. Even before the eviction the Jungle was protested by anti-immigration groups, its facilities even subject to arson attacks.

Multicolour, a new exhibition and auction organized by Migrate Art, showed at

Cork Street Galleries in London until the end of March, and featured the works of artists such as Anish Kapoor, Zhang Huan, Michael Craig Martin, and Rachel Whiteread.

The auction was on April 11 at Phillips. Unlike the previous efforts of Migrate, however, Multicolour involves the products, the material, of the refugee crisis.

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Migrate visited the Jungle after its destruction and looked through what was left.

What they found were the echoes of a vibrant community: remnants of bathrooms, toothbrushes on the ground, debris, and various colored pencils and crayons scattered at the site of a children’s school. The camp saw great extremes in just a few days: bustling with evacuees, then completely devoid of them, with only debris to mark their presence. A recent press release from Migrate reads, “From the rubble and dirt of a former school, a number of colored pencils and crayons were salvaged. Continuing the Migrate Art ethos of developing positive, fundraising responses to the global refugee crisis, these pencils and crayons were collected and brought back to London.”

After collecting the pencils and crayons, the organization sent them to tens of artists,

who created artworks with them. They allowed participants much creative discretion, asking them to make something with their pencil or crayon in any way, whether that be “drawing with them, photographing them, incorporating them into a sculpture[,] or even breaking them apart.” For example, graphic illustrator Michael Craig-Martin drew a column of colored pencils in his characteristic flat and playful style, a pleasing spectrum of the Jungle pencils he received; Rachel Whiteread, whose works mostly consist of ghostly and cool-headed casted sculptures, assembled broken pencils into a little house-shaped structure. Kapoor drew what seems to be a hallway in reddish crayon. The fruits of their labor were sold at auction and all profits went to charity partners. Ninety percent of the proceeds went to charity partners while ten percent was allotted for future Migrate Art projects. Raqib Shaw, an Indian-born, London-based painter, said, “Whether or not today’s refugees are fleeing from political or economical trouble, I identify with, and have great sympathy for the sense of displacement they must feel. The only way I can express my true feelings is through my art—as a means of release and escapism—so I am happy to be contributing to the Migrate project in aid of this worthwhile cause.” He donated a painstakingly detailed pencil drawing of a child reclining on a flowering branch, reading a book.

Another artist involved in the auction, and closely tied to its cause, was Sara Sham-

ma, a Syrian artist based in the UK. She grew up in Damascus, which she said cultivated a “burgeoning art scene that was trying to find its way.” When the Syrian Civil War erupted, she moved to Lebanon; now she works in London. All galleries she visited in her university days in Syria have closed down. In her 2015 exhibition World Civil War Portraits, she brooded over her emotional experience of the conflict and displacement. Shamma’s paintings are colorful and corporeal, wavering between the real and the symbolic: she switches between careful photorealistic renderings and broad, blotchy brushstrokes, and incorporates surreal imagery like a pantyhose pulled over a woman’s face, or meat hanging from a hook. The looser brushstrokes

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When Migrate sent Shamma crayons from the Jungle, she gave them to her children

so that they could draw with them. Her children’s drawings inspired her own submission for Multicolour, an oil painting called Alien: Two Heads. There is a green surface, in the middle of which is a crude oblong hole. A child peeks from the hole, eyes glistening. Superimposed over the image is a child’s drawing in red, a chicken-looking thing, out of their purview. In their hand is a colored pencil, translucent at the end as if it were disappearing from the child’s grasp. The child’s eyes are huge and glistening and meticulously rendered, giving Shamma’s submission far more emotional weight than a row or stack of pencils or the sketch Kapoor made. While I imagine participating artists concerned themselves more with the proceeds of the works rather than their artistic merit or how much work they put into them, the Syrian artist seems to draw more attention to Migrate’s cause by putting a face to the crisis. She does not simply depict the rendering tool in a fashionable and concise, easily-digestable way. Pencils are only a symbol of Calais Jungle rather than a portrait of its residents. They are just as much a logo, something easy to look at, as they are a means of charity. So although buyers know where the proceeds go, they are far removed from it.

With Alien, Shamma personalizes the refugee crisis, which warrants more media cover-

age with a focus on its victims rather than on policy. Seeing photos of the Calais Jungle evacuees is far more harrowing than, say, just reading about eligibility conditions for people seeking asylum in England, and reminds us of the human cost of the demolition of the Jungle, or the border control strategies of UK government members like home secretary Sajid Javid, who, in January, mobilized the Royal Navy in response to asylum seekers’ crossing the English Channel from France in small boats. We should focus on the people behind the bureaucratic byproducts of the migrant crisis, like the hundreds of thousands of asylum application circulating around the EU and, critically, the profits of organizations that mobilize around their problems only in name. Changing attitudes by media and Migrate towards migrants themselves rather than their displacement, their asylum status, could perhaps encourage the same by policymakers.

Migrate is honorable and I greatly admire the reciprocal results of their work as they

push creative boundaries and raise funds simultaneously. Concerning the former, however, they perform “junction-making” between buyers and artists and charities, with refugees going largely unrepresented at the Phillips auction. Perhaps they should consider making junctions between artists and migrants themselves by encouraging them to make portraits or collect the artistic and creative work of evacuees. This is key to recalling the people affected by the migrant crisis, who are the root of its urgency—to, like Shamma, invoke both the pencil and its user.

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Growing Up Adopted ISABELLE PAQUETTE EDITED BY JESSICA LI | DESIGNED BY JOY FREUND

I was adopted from Southeastern China when I was a little over a year old. If you were to ask me

how I felt about that before college, I would have responded with indifference. For so long, I did not want to nor felt the need to build a bridge between my Asian heritage and my American culture. Now, I realize there is so much more to this part of my identity that has affected how I view the world and interact with others.

Sometimes I don’t know which one I truly belong to, sometimes I feel pressure to associate myself with one in particular and not the other. This confusion is part of what I believe to be a normal part of the mentalities of a lot of Asian adoptees struggling with how to identify themselves. It is a topic not talked about in the media or pop culture. Choosing to talk about it is, for me, a step in the right direction towards thinking about how existing between two worlds has changed me in both positive and negative ways.

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When my sister and I were little, my parents made sure to integrate adoption both as a concept

and a part of our identities as soon as possible. We were just like any other family, except for the fact that we looked different. A lot of children’s adoption books were mixed into nightly reading time before bed, and I still remember having casual conversations with my parents when I was as young as three or four and they would explain to my sister and me the story of how we became a family. The most important thing I learned and still strongly believe in is the saying,

“family is greater than blood.”

Of course, my parents did not attempt to ignore the fact that my sister and I were Asian. They

would tell us about Chinese New Year, buy Chinese educational children books (in English), and take us out for Chinese food often. Yet there were a number of factors both inside and outside the home that affected my mentality about race. Before moving to Providence, I lived in Cumberland, Rhode Island until I was seven, which was made up of predominantly white families. That is why my parents decided to put my sister and me in a city school, where there would be more diversity. Even though my Kindergarten class had two other Asian girls, interestingly also both adopted, that did little to change anything going on in my head at the time. In the best way I can put it, I knew I was Asian on account of what I saw in the mirror, but that was the extent of it. “Chinese” was a fact about me, or a label, but there was no pressure to have pride in it or learn what it even meant on a personal level. I guess in a naive way I believed I was just like every other girl. I did not let being Asian affect my self-esteem in any major way. Nor did my environment require me to even think about my Asian identity: I was not naturally interested in Asian cuisine, culture or language. I didn’t like when my mom suggested I buy Ivy, the only Asian American Girl Doll, because she wasn’t a normal doll being bought compared to my friends. I was raised to think about the word “Asian” as if I was a white child thinking about the word “Asian.” I don’t mean to primarily blame my parents. In reality, however, they were a small yet valid part of my ignorance towards my race. They stressed me being adopted as more important to understand and have pride in at a young age rather than where I specifically came from. At that time, Race was not something I needed to be educated or warned about in my relationship with society.

As I got older, my “white washed” personality started to dominate my thoughts on how I should

be acting and expressing myself to others. High school, specifically, was the turning point in my identity.

I rejected a lot of aspects of Asian culture, thinking to myself ‘that is not my family, so therefore, it is not important to me’. As a consequence, I felt pressured to make it apparent to others that I was not a regular Asian girl, but instead, I was a cool Asian girl, the one that is friendly and doesn’t only hang out with other Asian girls and can have a good time instead of constantly studying and getting good grades. I was far from the model minority a lot of my Asian classmates upheld, yet I never felt alone in choosing to act or look more like the “white culture” around me. I had a few Asian friends, all non-adopted, who also shared the same mentality. My school wasn’t great on facilitating progress towards the empowerment of minorities in

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the community. They only began implementing Racial Affinity groups in my senior year. If you ever showed you were “fully” Asian, you were considered an international student, which was true in most cases, yet always constituted a slightly negative tone than those who acted white. This assumption wasn’t entirely false, because I partly blame my fear of being associated with “full” Asians on how some of them were not friendly or even accepting of the fact that we looked the same. It was the first incident where I felt rejected by my own race, yet I was more focused on using my race as an advantage, or a card I could play; pride would be too positive a word. High school was when I would make slightly ignorant if not racist jokes about Asian people, as a way of separating myself from who I was talking about. It was also the time where I used my identity as a tactic to be more well liked or welcomed. I would convince myself that I added diversity to a group, or that I could look cute in any situation just like an ABG (Asian Baby Girl), the Asian version of a wild party girl. I never hated being Asian, but my reasons for why I liked being Asian were not necessarily genuine.

A few days before Orientation, I was telling my mother how nervous I was about how people would

perceive me as an Asian girl. Coming from a school that was predominately white with a very American culture, I presupposed people at college would be just like my classmates: they wouldn’t talk to me or come up to me if they assumed I only spoke an Asian language. I had this goal to make sure I could still fit in with people I wanted to fit in with, and at the same time be a part of Asian organizations and communities. This is where my 180 happened. Not only was I surprisingly happy to be surrounded by people who looked like me, I genuinely liked being around and connecting with such a big amount of Asian people compared to where I grew up. They were a tight, warm community, and within all of the emotions I was experiencing, I found myself wishing to be like them. Almost immediately, I started to regret the mentality I have carried with me for so long. I wanted to be a part of an Asian community, I wanted to eat more Asian food and learn about it, I wanted to speak an Asian language: I wanted to be only Asian.

There was an intense amount of pressure I felt that I put on myself to rethink my life. This was

mostly due to how uncomfortable I felt not being able to connect with so many Asian people on campus.

Not growing up with daily exposure to the culture, I did not understand a lot of topics being tossed around casually during meetings. It made my self esteem fall quickly, because I now felt like I wasn’t Asian enough and that was a bad thing. There was jealousy rooted as well, because I didn’t have Asian parents, or at least parents I didn’t know, who could teach me all of this. Trying to tell my parents only fueled my growing anger towards how race has affected our family: I didn’t want to talk to my parents because I felt they could not understand what I was going through; they were neither Asian or adopted. I felt stuck in limbo between two worlds, one where I didn’t feel fully a part of and one that I was now trying to ignore. After expressing my thoughts to others, I realized this sudden desire was more a boiling point of my increasing confusion surrounding my identity rather than a real desire to connect with my race. By the beginning of the second semester, I began to focus more on what about being a Chinese adoptee makes me happy, which didn’t involve comparing myself to any standards.

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frame photo credits:

first page: photo by Anthony Garand on Unsplash fourth page: Photo by London Wood Co. on Unsplash

Learning to balance being Chinese adopted and how I interact with others is probably some-

thing that I will never stop. What I know now is that there is no “right” way to be Asian, just as there is no “wrong” way. I am incredibly lucky to live the life that I live, and I wouldn’t change it or the culture I’ve been brought up in for anything. But I no longer attempt to think of my race through another person’s point of view. I also am not ashamed for not liking or knowing of elements of my Asian identity that other Asians like. Existing between worlds is a part of me, and I couldn’t be more proud of it.

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migrati stories TAMIKA WHITENACK & EMMA CHUN

EDITED BY KHANH LY NGUYEN PHOTOS BY ALEX KIM DESIGNED & ILLUSTRATED BY AM CHUNNANANDA

featuring Chris Chang ’20 Tommy Tomikawa ’20 Tasha Hescock ’21 Greer Hoffman ’21 Tamika Whitenack ’21 Janice Song ’21 Sarah Park 20 Ella Xiao ’21

on In 1587, less than a century after the “discovery� of the New World, a Manila-built ship landed on the California coast, bringing with it the first documented Asian arrivals to the Americas. Since then, Asian immigrants, fleeing from persecution and dreaming of better lives, have fought for the opportunity to come to America, facing uniquely restrictive and discriminatory obstacles with regards to immigration.

Asian immigrants in the 1800s faced hostility and violence from white America, culminating in harsh legislation designed to keep Asians out of the United States. At its height, this included the Immigration Act of 1917, which passed through Congress with an overwhelming majority and, in addition to creating a broad category of undesirables that included sex workers, impoverished people, and gay immigrants, banned immigrants from a zone that stretched from Afghanistan to China. It was as late as 1965 when the remaining legal barriers towards Asian immigration were lifted, finally clearing the path to America, at least in name. The tumultuous and troubled history of Asian immigration to the United States is seldom explored and seldom acknowledged, a disservice to the millions of Asian Americans whose contributions to American society go unnoticed, and a loss of the rich and varied histories that every person who comes to America has to share.

For this project, we have collected a series of migration stories, each one of them unique, valuable, and important, and a testament to the immense power that we as a community have within ourselves.

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themes / waves

timeline

1815 First records of Chinese merchants

1830s First wave of migration to Hawaii Chinese beginning in the 1830s Japanese beginning in the 1880s Korean and Filipino beginning in the early 1990s

1850s

events 1848 Establishment of first Chinatown

First wave of migration to the continental US Chinese, Japanese, Korean Early 1900s First South Asian immigrants arrive

1880s Beginning of immigration exclusion

1875 Page Act (Chinese exclusion specifically against women) 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act

Chinese exclusion 1910s General Asian exclusion

1892 Geary Act (extended Chinese exclusion) 1898 Kim Wong Ark vs. US supreme court case establishes birthright citizenship 1907 race riots along the Pacific coast, Gentlemen’s Agreement with Japan (Japan prohibits emigration to the US) 1910 opening of Angel Island 1917 Asiatic Barred Zone Act bars immigration from most of Asia 1922-23 Ozawa vs. US rules that non-white people are ineligible for naturalization 1924 Immigration Act establishes immigration quotas

1941 Pearl Habor/World War II - Japanese interment under Executive Order 9066 1943 Magnuson Act ends Chinese exclusion with transition to quota-based immigration and allowing naturalization

1960s Reopening of immigration Increasing migration from Asian countries from here onwards, primarily Chinese, Indian, Filipino Wars in Asia drive immigration to the US

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1946 Luce-Celler Act establishes quota-based immigration and naturalization for Filipinos and Indians

1965 Immigration Act ends race-based exclusion and quota-based immigration

Chris Chang

(he/him) | South Korea My family immigrated from Seoul to New York after I was born. I think my family believed that I would have a higher chance of “success” in the US compared to Korea, and that “success” was defined as greater academic and career opportunities. I was very fortunate to have been raised in a way that I never forgot my cultural heritage. The usage of Korean in my house was heavily emphasized, and we communicated a lot with my grandparents on my dad’s side, who still resided in Korea, which also contributed heavily to the retention of my cultural identity. Without a doubt, however, the distance from my country of origin has its tolls. While I still retained much of my culture, many aspects of it were inevitably experienced in a diluted way due to the distance, such as celebrating Korean holidays.

Getting our green cards was such an arduous and cumbersome process. It took much longer than expected, but I was fortunate that my green card was literally accepted and distributed right on time; if it had been delayed any longer, I would have faced significant hurdles in obtaining my education.

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My name is Thomas Koji Tomikawa. My last name and middle name are blatantly Japanese, but I’m just your run-of-the-mill, white-passing, mixed race kid. My grandma and her family came here from around Kyoto. My grandpa comes from a coastal northern city in Japan called Aomori. My grandma, Aiko, is nissei, meaning she’s the child of Japanese immigrants, while my grandpa, Koji, was an immigrant himself. Grandma Aiko’s parents moved to San Francisco, during the Taisho Period of Japan, sometime around 1916-1920. Papa Koji moved from the significantly smaller city of Aomori to Hawaii. This was during the Showa Period of Japan, a time where strong militarism and nationalistic views started to develop. His parents wanted to leave Japan before something cataclysmic happened, so they left around 1928. Grandma Aiko’s parents left during a time of social progress and westernization in Japan because they wanted to follow this “American Dream” that started to become prevalent. They moved to San Francisco to start a new life separate from older connections, almost to prove themselves. Both sides of my Japanese family were getting well adjusted to life in America around the 1930’s, Grandma Aiko’s family running a very successful flower shop and Papa Koji’s family establishing themselves as skilled local fishers in Hawaii. You probably know what happens next, and that is WWII and the internment of Japanese Americans in America. Papa Koji and his family were part of the 15,000 Japanese Americans forced off the islands and sent to one of the largest internment camps, Manzanar by Mt. Whitney in Eastern California. My grandma and her family were sent to the same camp. This definitely affected how they approached their heritage and culture, deciding to not teach their kids, my dad and uncle, Japanese. They still had fluency in their respective dialects and in time would reclaim their culture more, but it seemed like being “American” should come first for their kids. Like I said, they did end up embracing our heritage again.

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Sometime in the late 60’s, Grandma Aiko went to Japan a few times after the war, but when her mother died, she had a falling out with her sister, her main travel companion.

Around the 80s when the rapid increase in Japan’s economic growth was “concerning” to the American Markets, my grandma said she started to speak more in Japanese with her neighbors and return to the traditional activities she did as a child. In all honesty, I know less of my grandpa’s story and what happened post-war, mostly because he passed away before I really showed any interest in their stories. (However, I know my Grandma Aiko’s story better, because in middle school, we had to find someone who was a veteran in our families. The story goes, I said “my family has no veterans,” only to be met with a harsh critique and being told of how all “American families” have a veteran, like grandparents or great grandparents.

I then responded with the true and honest fact, “All the family I know were victims of war or too young for the drafts.” I was then questioned on the concept of a victim of war, which seems pretty obvious—at least to me—that they were civilians who had their lives ripped from them because of war. So instead of writing on a veteran, I talked with my family and I chose to write about my Grandma Aiko, because she lived through a war where she was directly affected.) I feel like her speaking Japanese again and returning to a Buddhist temple and shrine was like a way for her to rebel against what she thought was “All-American”. She ended up mending her relationship with her sister at this time as well, because she felt alone.

Her friends’ relatives from Japan started to move into the area, and seeing all these happy families I guess made her want to reconnect with her sister.

If I were to make this big ass paragraph coherent, I would say, coming to America gave way for a lot of opportunity for my family, but also came at a really high price—one which they, and their neighbors, wouldn’t know they would have to pay.

Tommy Tomikawa (he/him) | Japan

Tasha Hescock (she/her) | Malaysia

My mom first came to America as an exchange student to Clarkson University during college, and then moved permanently to Shoreham, Vermont from Malaysia in 1996. My parents were open to living in Malaysia, but my dad, an American, couldn’t find a good job there as an engineer, so they decided to live and raise a family in the US. I think the hardest thing my mom has faced is finding people like her in Vermont that she can relate to. I think it would’ve been much easier had she immigrated to a large city with a larger Asian population, but she and my dad stayed in Vermont because it’s where most of my dad’s family lives. For me it has been hard to relate to my Malaysian heritage because my mom is the only person around me who is Malaysian. It was also difficult for me to identify as half Asian growing up because Vermont is predominantly white (95%) so I

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feel like only my white identity was apparent, or that it mattered more. I didn’t learn to speak Malay when I was younger so I am unable to communicate well when I visit my family in Malaysia or even talk to my mom in Malay at home. The hardest challenge that I have faced has been allowing myself to identify as half white AND half Malaysian, because I do not feel that tied to the culture, nor do I look like I am anything but white.

Being a part of SEASA (Southeast Asian Students’ Alliance) at Vassar has helped me explore my Malaysian side and meet people who feel like they are often caught in between two worlds, too. I wish that my mom had something similar to SEASA back in Vermont so that she could be around people who understand her and her culture.

Greer Hoffman (she/her) | China

I was adopted as a baby from Guangdong, China into a family with a white father and a Chinese-American mother. I think the greatest challenge I’ve faced has been identity struggle. I didn’t relate to other first or second generation immigrants, I didn’t relate to “normal” Americans, and I didn’t relate to China Chinese. Knowing that I was born to a poor family in China made me feel ashamed. For most of my life, I detested being Chinese and Asian. I wanted nothing more than to be white and “normal”. I resented celebrating Chinese New Year or eating Chinese food. Then, last year, I dramatically swung the other way. I desperately wanted to be China-Chinese. Fortunately, I think now I have struck a balance, and am proudly an American of Chinese descent.

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Tamika Whitenack (she/her) | China & Japan

My mom’s family came from small villages in Jiangmen in Guangdong province, China and my dad’s mother (my paternal grandma) is from Wadahama, Japan. On both sides, it was my great-grandparents who immigrated to the United States.

My maternal grandparents’ families came to San Francisco Chinatown in the 191020s, during the time of the Chinese Exclusion Act, but my grandfather’s family were merchants, so were permitted under the exceptions in the Exclusion Act. My grandmother’s father, mother, and older brother had to spend many weeks at Angel Island immigration station under a series of interrogations in order to be allowed into the country. In many ways, I would say actually getting to the United States was one of the biggest challenges of immigration for my family. However, my grandparents also grew up in the Great Depression and in pre-Civil Rights era United States, so there was plenty of hardship and overt racism/ discrimination. Growing up in Chinatown definitely offered a sense of community; for example, all of my grandma’s kindergarten class had to learn English together.

My Japanese grandma’s father had a long journey to come to the United States, and he arrived shortly before his 20th birthday. At age 18, he left Japan as a stow-away on a ship that was bound for Europe. He landed in Copenhagen, worked for his passage, and finally arrived in Los Angeles.

My grandma was born in Los Angeles, but spent three years of her childhood back in Japan with my great-grandfather’s family, which helped her to maintain her Japanese

identity even when she returned to the United States. She says that she loved being Japanese American. She credits this to the love of “Grandma” (actually her aunt) who consistently reminded her, “never forget where you came from, don’t pretend to be who you’re not. Be strong.” My grandma says she did not feel self-conscious about her identity until WWII when they were forced to leave home, and sent away to an Internment Camp, which was definitely the greatest challenge for my grandmother’s family.

However, my grandmother herself actually did not go to camp. She went to live with a white family in Colorado and spent most of her high school years there.

As a third-generation American, I think my connections to my countries of origin are different from other more recently immigrated Asian Americans. We have no family connections in China or Japan, so all of my connections are more to cultural aspects of the countries rather than the places themselves. Knowing my family history and extended family is also a huge part of my connection to my Asian culture. We eat and cook Chinese and Japanese food and celebrate holidays, and my parents were very intentional about exposing my sister and me to our Asian heritage (i.e. children’s books, cultural summer camps). I have always felt Asian American, but I think as I have gotten older and learned how my experience is different from a lot of other Asian Americans I have reconceptualized what it means to be Asian American. I feel I grew up with a lot of privilege as a result of my family’s hard work and struggles, and I am very grateful.

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Janice Song

(she/her) | South Korea

My family is from South Korea and we migrated to La Mirada, California in 2001. We came for my dad’s job, as well as for educational opportunities. Since coming to the US, I have had different stages of growth in interacting with my culture, from feeling like I don’t fit in enough as an American, not enough as a Korean, and learning to embrace the unique mix of being Korean-American. It makes me very proud to be in a different country and represent my heritage, yet I am also aware of the differences in myself as a person and the values and traditions of my heritage. It felt confusing at first, but now is something that I would not change or ignore. My family upholds connections to Korea through language, food, traditions/values, and also phone calls to our family in Korea! The greatest challenge for my family has been the language and cultural barriers of being in a strange country, especially for my parents, who had to learn to fit in and raise three kids despite minimal knowledge of the language, discrimination, and being low-income.

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Sarah Park

(she/her) | South Korea My dad was offered a post-doc position at Penn State, so my parents and my older sister immigrated in 1995.

My brother and I are the only ones in our extended family who were born in the U.S.. I think it’s safe to say that growing up in the U.S. has affected interactions with my culture and heritage in every way. I mostly grew up in Connecticut where there is a relatively limited Korean American population. There was barely any Asian American representation in media, never mind Korean American. My family sought the limited opportunities we had to keep in touch with the culture. When I was younger, I vividly remember going to the only tiny Korean supermarket nearby and renting videocassettes every week. We would watch Korean shows and learn a little bit of history through historical Korean dramas, and then we discovered Youtube.

If it wasn’t for the internet, I don’t think we would have been able to keep in touch with the culture through mainstream media. The internet and technology also

play a big role in keeping us connected to South Korea. The majority of my extended family is in Korea, but my grandma recently got her first smartphone and learned how to do video calls so we’re able to do that with her now. At least one member of my immediate family tries to visit Korea every other year or so.

My dad passed away when I was six years old. Instead of taking us back home to Korea where all of her family was, my mom decided to raise us here to give us the best education she could. She raised the three of us alone as she went back to school for seven years to get her Pharm.D degree. She had to navigate through higher education, the job market, and just society in general in a country and language that were foreign to her. For me, I think some of the most frustrating times as a part of an immigrant family are when people don’t treat my mom well or don’t take her seriously because of her accent. But all in all, my family is so fortunate, privileged, and blessed to be where we are today. saranghae, umma ♥

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Ella Xiao

(she/her) | China

My family is from Hunan, China. When Mao threatened all Chinese Christians with violence and political persecution, my Nainai and Yehyeh (paternal grandparents) fled to Hong Kong, which was still under British rule, where they lived in Tao Fung Shan and raised my father. In the late 70s, talks began of Hong Kong coming under Chinese control, and so my grandparents feared our family would be persecuted again. My father and his brother were sent to the United States as young adults to escape this, to rural Minnesota to be with the only family friend my grandparents had in the states. My father worked for and lived above the one Chinese restaurant in his area. Later, more family related to my Nainai migrated to the greater Seattle area so my dad, now married to my mom, left Minnesota to be with family (also he just really hated Minnesota).

Although my mother is white, she is the only of her family to leave the Netherlands and come to United States. Thus, the only family I’ve grown up with is from my dad’s (Chinese) family. For me, culture, food, family, and religion have always been deeply ingrained. My dad is the cook of the family (and an amazing one!) and he makes almost exclusively Chinese dishes; either ones he grew up with or ones from other regions in China he learned how to make in the United States. Most of our family gatherings are centered around food. We have big pot lucks for Christmas/Easter, Hot Pot or noodles on birthday, and one of the biggest traditions is all generations of women sitting down together to hand make huge batches of dumplings for Lunar New Year. We also stay connected to both Chinese culture and Chinese American culture by our membership in an intimate Chinese Christian Church community. I grew up with a lot of friends who were also the first in their family to be born in the states. However, because of the conservative/traditional combination of Christianity and Chinese culture, when I came out to my family/community, it was considered a “foreign” thing and a sign that I had succumbed to immoral American culture. There was always a balancing act of being “American” enough in order to be successful in this country and being “too American” in the sense of being queer, politically radical, or disagreeing with elders.

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The theme of this issue of Portrait is “existing between worlds.” Every person who has come from one place to live in another understands that feeling of being caught between two different cultures, and that experience is, in some ways, indicative of the Asian American experience. Our ties to each of the places we are a part of are all important, and so we want to take this time to recognize the equal importance of both our lives in America and our histories in Asia.

The purpose of this project was to share a diverse set of stories reflecting the different journeys and experiences of Asian Americans. Through the similarities and differences present across all the stories, we hoped to capture the complexity of what it means to be “Asian American;” we want to illustrate that although we are often lumped together as a single identity, the notion of an Asian American monolith is false. We recognize that the stories here do not fully cover every region or time period of Asian migration to the United States and that there is much more to Asian American history and identity beyond the history of immigration. We also want to acknowledge that Asian migration to the United States did not occur in a vacuum, and that there are numerous other systems, institutions, and movements around the world which interacted with Asian migration.

Finally, we want to extend our sincere gratitude to each and every person who shared their story with us for this project. Storytelling is powerful – it allows us to provide an alternative to dominant narratives of history and assert the worth of our individual lived experiences. The stories in this series both overlap and diverge, reflecting that although we all belong to the Asian American community, each one of us is special. We hope that through reading these stories you may feel a stronger sense of connection to others and to yourself.

The first collection of Migration Stories was presented in the previous issue of Portrait (‘the beginning’).

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JOGJAKARTA, INDONESIA 2018, 35MM FILM PHOTOGRAPHED BY CHRISTA HARYANTO

BALI, INDONESIA 2018, 35MM FILM PHOTOGRAPHED BY CHRISTA HARYANTO 65

WONG CHUK HANG, HONG KONG ISLAND, 35MM FILM, PHOTOGRAPHED BY CHRISTA HARYANTO

TSIM TSA TSUI, KOWLOON, HONG KONG, 35MM FILM PHOTOGRAPHED BY CHRISTA HARYANTO 66

JAKARTA , INDONESIA 2018, DIGITAL PHOTOGRAPHED BY CHRISTA HARYANTO 67

What does it mean to exist between worlds? between languages?

Find your answer in

journals

(provided in Vietnamese, Hindi, and English)

photo by Alex Kim

Khanh Ly Nguyen | Designed by Alex Kim | Vietnamese

my father writes from louisiana after ocean vuong emơi em khoẻ không/ em đang ở đâu/ tối hôm qua anh nằm mơ em có bầu/ there are things i can only say/ when i get home/ if it’s a girl i think/ i want to name her kimberly/ i have spent/ an entire breath/ trying to get out/ of the ocean/ only to return to it/ like a soldier/ reporting for duty/ like war is all/ this ocean has ever known/ em ơi em ơi/ anh nhớ nhà nhớ em/ somewhere you are waiting for me/ the ocean parts/ before the dawn/ to show me/ her/ tucked inside the waves// em ơi em ơi/ trời ơi em ơi/ anh về liền/ and when you see me/come to the door/ con ơi ba đây/ con ơi, daddy’s home//

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Nitasha Giran | Designed by Alex Kim | Hindi

दोगला पिछले कुछ महीनों से एक शब्द है जो मेरे मन में घुसने के बाद, घड़ी-घड़ी हाज़िर हो कर मुझे सताता रहता है, ‘दोगला’। बचपन से लड़कपन तक, दर्पण में मुझे हमेशा एक शेरनी का प्रतिबिम्ब नज़र अया है, पर अब यह दोगला शब्द कहाँ से आकर मेरे ज़हन में पनाह ले रहा है? मैं दोगली थोड़े ही हूँ, या हूँ मैं? जब मैं यहाँ रह कर वहाँ के सपने देखती हूँ, क्या वह दोगलपन्ति है? एक आधुनिक जग में जब मैं भक्ति की खोज करती हूँ, क्या वह दोगलपन्ति है? या फिर जिसको मैं उसी दर्पण में देखा करती हूँ, शायद वह कल्पना ही मेरे दोगलपन्ति करने का सबसे बड़ा प्रमाण हो? जहाँ वह रहती है, वहाँ जुगनी की चमक-दमक है और कौरों की चहल-पहल। वह ही है मेरे नानी के सुरमे-दानी के लायक और मेरे दादा के केसरी खेतों की हक़दार। वह ही है मेरा दोगलापन। काश मैं उस से एक बार मिल पाऊँ। काश मैं उसकी एक बार जगह ले सकूँ। कभी यूँ भी तो हो। कभी यूँ भी तो हो ।।

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Nitasha Giran | translated by Nitasha Giran | designed by Alex Kim

Hypocrite For the past few months, there is a word that has crept into my mind and torments me by appearing from time to time - ‘hypocrite’. From my childhood to my adolescence, I have always seen the reflection of a lioness in a mirror, but where has this ‘hypocrite’ word come from and taken refuge in my mind? I am certainly not a hypocrite, or am I?

When I dream of living there despite living here, is that hypocritical? When I search for devotion in a modern world, is that hypocritical? Or perhaps, whom I imagine to look at in that very mirror may very well be the greatest proof of my hypocrisy.

Where she lives, there is the glow and flare of Jugni and the brilliance and merriment of Kaurs. Only she is worthy of my grandmother’s kohl holder and entitled to my grandfather’s saffron fields. She is my hypocrisy.

If only I could meet her once.

If only I could once take her place.

May this happen someday.

May this happen someday.

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Thanks for reading our magazine.

Portrait would not exist without you. sending love, the Portrait Family

Interested in getting involved?

Email us at jiwonkim@vassar.edu photo by Am Chunnananda

PORTRAIT

ISSUE 2

brought to you by Vassar College Asian Students’ Committee (Fall 2018-Spring 2019)