Was Like, Is Like

edited by Ashley Leung Issue #1 /

W A S

I S

L I K E

L I K E

,

lived experiences of Chinatown

TABLE OF CONTENTS

4 Obsession

6 Time and the Sky 10 Gentrification — thoughts by Meilani Mandery 周秀明 & Cameron Yee Chang — "Bush Garden" by Meilani Mandery 周秀明 16 Memories (of the good and the bad) — thoughts by Benjamin Woo — "Chinese Daughter" by Meilani Mandery 周秀明 — "Chinatown Skeletons" by Meilani Mandery 周秀明 24 A Silent Story

EDITOR'S NOTE Was Like, Is Like is a publication bridging the past and the present of anything and everything — places, people, trinkets, emotions, whatever, wherever, whenever. In this first issue, I selfishly divulge in a personal interest and relation: Chinatown. There are nearly 50 Chinatowns in the U.S., and as different as New York City is from LA, these Chinatowns are collectively homes to many immigrants and their families — predominantly but not limited to Chinese Americans. Behind the tourist facade of looming paifangs, dangling red lanterns, ethnic eateries, modern cafes, trinket shops, and Instagrammable murals are the mundane experiences of actual residents. Their physical labor and mental toll; defiance and compliance; Cantonese, Mandarin, Vietnamese, Khmer, pidgin English, hand gestures, mouth sounds; haggling; fevered ambition and immobility; true and intangible sense of home; loneliness; happiness; thoughts; memories — to acknowledge them is to air our dirty laundry. So instead, we come and go. We dine and pay. We stroll in and out. We pose, take pictures *click*, post, and Uber back home. The editor of this publication is guilty of all the above.

Nonetheless, this is a humble attempt to capture the lives, emotions, and memories of Chinatown residents. Permeating through poetry, photos, and thoughts are a mix of nostalgia, warmth, shame, and anger. Every photo—including the cloud designs and even the red/green tinge on the cover page—was taken in a Chinatown. Those who haven’t read this note won’t know that, but it’s enough that we know.

Inevitably, the hideous beast that is gentrification unveils itself as Chinatown residents — many of whom are elderly — struggle to pay the surging rent of their homes and businesses. In 2020, when an affordable rent agreement expired, the tenants of Hillside Villa Apartments in Los Angeles Chinatown were faced with rent increases by as much as 300%. Walking through Chinatown, you’ll see that many shops are closed and gated. What used to be some of the busiest corners and streets are now deserted.

With the impact of COVID-19 and the racial discrimination that has always targeted Chinatown and other ethnic enclaves, it seems as if now, more than ever, what is left of Chinatown is merely commodity.

But that’s not true. Chinatown is still very much alive. It is simply alive in a way that is not — by our standards — aesthetic, artistic, beautiful. I want to step away from romanticizing this perfectly “Oriental” packaging of Chinatown — with modern fusion restaurants and Chinese architecture at its forefront. By focusing on personal memories and reflections, dilapidated but functional spaces, this publication reminds us of the existence of these Asian immigrants and Chinatown residents — with the sincerest hope that they will thrive.

We always try to find beauty in things, and this zine itself may be an act of gentrification — a romanticization of dire conditions. But I hope that art and storytelling brings out the best in people and that in our search for beauty, we won’t leave behind the subjects — or rather, the true artists — of our works. And this zine was only made possible with the vulnerability of past and present Chinatown residents, the creativity of the youth and elderly, and the untold stories of people I’ve never met.

Please gently devour this collection of Chinatown’s past and present — and everything in-between.

— Ashley Leung

Obsession

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are so lost in this world that we must seek depth in the creases of their aging faces and warmth in a patch of land that was once bustling with voices, thoughts, fears, hopes of our people. And by romanticizing the dirtiest of streets and oldest of stalls, we are declaring a loud “fuck you” to modern beauty and reassuring the bygone that amid their silent labor and stifled cries for justice, they, too, can be beautiful.

Time

Time passes, and so will we.

Let us stay a little longer, lest we find something more valuable than longevity.

and the Sky

A century ago today at 12:43 p.m., the sky was so very different from what I’m seeing.

But somehow, just five minutes ago, the sky was also so very different from what I’m seeing.

perfectly Oriental aesthetically lethal silently concealed

GENTRIFICATION

"I live, work, and organize in Seattle's Chinatown International district. As the neighborhood gentrifies, many Asians are being displaced and replaced with white and affluent people without ties to the neighborhood. It's frustrating to see predatory developers treat the neighborhood as 'close to downtown' or as having 'unique character' when they buy up properties and increase rent...

My neighbors on both sides and across the hall are all white 30-somethings.

Why are they here?

Are they respectful of and interested in the history and current cultures of the neighborhood? Even among Asian residents and business owners, there is a lack of analysis when it comes to poverty, racism, mental illness, and houselessness."

- Meilani Mandery 周秀明

"Chinatown is for Chinese people.

Why are these men with beards coming here?"

- Cameron Yee Chang (words of her grandma)

such as Save Bush Garden and CID Coalition."

"Bush Garden is a staple of the neighborhood, an icon. Before the property was bought by a gentrifier and closed by the greedy landlord, Bush Garden was a community hub for generations. The restaurant was the first in the country to have a karaoke bar and neighborhood folks would sing their hearts. As the Chinatown International District continues to be swallowed by predatory developers and sellout landlords, neighborhood spots like Bush Garden are quickly disappearing. The radical legacy of Bush Garden lives on in community organizers

"Bush Garden" - Meilani Mandery 周秀明

Memories

(of the good and the bad)

“1990s. I forgot which gang group was having issues with another gang group (Wah Ching).

So as a teenager, my folks would always worry about me walking from our apartment (531 Alpine St) to Chinatown Library, which was a block away. There was a barber shop right underneath our apartment complex."

“There was also a huge family that lived on 522 Alpine St. The older person of the household was kind enough to give a recently immigrated family a chance to babysit his grandkids. Pretty soon, due to some good luck, my mom found a job at the nearby Cathay Bank."

“There used to be a place called Bamboo Plaza (toward the end of Chinatown, near the 110 freeway). Back then, it had the biggest dimsum restaurant inside. At that time, any fancy/big/huge banquets would be hosted there. My ‘fondest’ memory, however, was the owner of this restaurant singing out of tune.

However, all his waiters/waitresses were clapping as loud as possible.”

- Benjamin Woo

Chinese Daughter

For Halloween you’re going to be American.

Halloween is every day.

You’re already a skeleton, knobby knees, chronically underweight.

With no skin, no hair, no eyes, No tongue, You’re no longer Chinese.

These bones could be American, they don’t know.

You’re seventeen and sneaking out of your parents’ house again. Fall in LA is tricky. You swore it was summer last time you blinked but now you wish you brought a jacket as you climb down from your window.

There’s nothing to do tonight but drink and smoke and maybe kiss a boy.

You keep trying to escape your life but every time, you wind up here: your father’s grave 40 years from now.

You got out, but you didn’t go far.

Your Chinese daughter cries at your Chinese father’s grave and you wonder where you got lost.

Your Chinese daughter can’t even pronounce her Chinese name.

She lives in Chinatown now, praying aunties forgive her for English.

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Sorry, my mother never taught me.”

Decorated in hand-me-down jade, your Chinese daughter begs for a recognition You always avoided.

Your Chinese mother sends your Chinese daughter a letter in Chinese.

Your Chinese daughter gets her Chinese friends to translate and cries the entire time.

Letters sent home with nothing but tears The only thing that doesn’t need translation.

- Meilani Mandery 周秀明

"Chinese Skeletons" - Meilani Mandery 周秀明

contact artists/editor: ashwoodmeadow@gmail.com Instagram: @ashleyl.g7

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