Tapioka Magazine - Fall 2024 | SONDER

TAPIOKA SONDER Fall 2024 ISSUE 12

Photo by Angela Lor Edited by Emily Nguyen

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Editor’s Letter

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To Embrace Sonder: Realizations from the Unfamiliar

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Gaze of a tenant with overdue bills.

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Chai and Colliding Universes: Moments of Connection

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The Vibrant Complexity

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This Is How Vietnam Moves

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Crossroads of Identity

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The Threads of Her World

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Beyond the Label: Conversations with Asian voices across OU's campus

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tapioka magazine ISSUE 10 SONDER

Tapioka Magazine is Oklahoma's first publication with a focus on APIDA-MENA culture and identity. Through written and visual media, we hope to highlight Oklahoma's APIDA-MENA community and celebrate its rich heritage and history.

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EDITORIAL BOARD

FALL 2024 COMMITTEE

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Angela Lor

Emma Nguyen

Angelina Lang Ariana Sayeed

ASSISTANT EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Washy Yang DIRECTOR OF WRITING

Anusha Fathepure

Cindy Le Emily Nguyen Erik Phan Grace Simmons Isabel Reed

DIRECTOR OF MARKETING

Janes Le

Lauren Vongthavaravat

Joseph Vu Kaella Glenn

DIRECTOR OF LOGISTICS

Koi Longcrier

Thao Tran

Nhu Van Sanika Navalkar GUEST CONTRIBUTORS

Heba Assi Meghana Nuthi

CONTACT Email: ouaasa.magazine@gmail.com Instagram: @tapioka.mag TAPIOKA · 5

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EDITOR’S LETTER

The release of our twelfth issue represents a milestone that never ceases to amaze me. I’ve been at OU just as long as Tapioka, previously known as the “OU AASA magazine” has been in production. As this publication has grown, I’ve grown alongside Tapioka.

My belief in this magazine has become a central part of my identity at OU, and I am endlessly grateful to find a dedicated team behind me.

Our passions drive this project, shaped by personal encounters and beliefs that connect our experiences. Tapioka represents the countless stories that weave our lives together within the APIDAMENA community at OU. Sonder reminds us of the brilliant tapestry formed by our cultural ties.

Notice an emphasis on boldness, originality, and color in this issue, which have inspired our team to expand beyond singular stories. Our committee spent time conversing with prominent figures of the OU community, created art showcasing the individuality of our peers, and reflected on our own impact in a narrative larger than we can imagine.

Emma Nguyen 2024-2025 Editor-In-Chief

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To Embrace Sonder: Realizations Found in the Unfamiliar Words & Photography by Kaella Glenn Since the beginning of 2024, I imagined myself living as the main character. It was my phrase of the year, so what else would I try to be except the one thing I planned my entire year around. I was the center of my own world like many of us are at certain points in our lives. I followed every online selfcare video and my Pinterest vision boards were ever-increasing. I had a lot planned, and I was going to make this possible by building the world I envisioned in my head, piece by piece.

In the months leading up, I’d started to do this in small increments as I took chances like joining OU Asian Royalty (OUAR) and stepping up in the organizations I was invested in. It wasn’t arrogance, but more of an unconscious belief that the problems I cared about, the dreams I chased, and the experiences I lived would be the things that mattered the most. I tapped into this entirely when I joined OUAR because the whole point of the pageant is 8

to make people believe that the problems you care about are problems they should believe in too. You are representing an entire community of people, and if you were going to win, you had to show that you were prepared to create change and be a distinct voice that was confident enough to prove so.

The entire process of OUAR felt almost necessary to live by the main character mentality or else I’d fall into a dreary, depressive state of comparing myself to others who were just as qualified.

I was deep into this rhythm and slowly, I became more connected to the rich life I’d created that made it easy to forget there was anything beyond my own arc. It was at this point that God had answered my prayers and gave me the opportunity of a lifetime to travel abroad and study in the country I’d always wanted to go to.

Every scholarship, program, and scenario I could’ve ever imagined became true thanks to His blessings and I was going to enter into a role worthy of a coming-ofage film.

But life, as it often does, introduced a shift—a moment that would make me reconsider everything.

It came in the form of studying abroad.

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When I left for Japan, I thought I was walking into another chapter of my own grand story. And in the beginning, it felt like that. I spent the first two weeks of my time in Asia going between Japan and Korea. I visited all the hot landmark spots and somehow landed on a programmed show in Osaka that I never would’ve imagined to be a part of. I carried out some of my dreams– climbing the Fushimi Inari Shrine, wearing a kimono and hanbok, and eating some damn good food. But after that, once my family went back home and I started my journey alone for the next two and half months, I failed to remember one important detail in my study abroad program.

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The language pledge.

The language pledge was a blessing and also a curse in many ways. Essentially, I went to a program that encouraged this agreement between staff and participating students to agree to a commitment where students are expected to speak the target language for the duration of the program.

For some locations, repeated violation of the language pledge that would damage the language learning environment for other students could result in disciplinary action and/or including dismissal from the program. It was intense to say the least.

And so, my classes were taught entirely in Japanese. The students I was with (whether they were foreign exchange students or not) were also speaking in Japanese.

The people we lived with had no knowledge of English and not a single paper was printed in English. I was fully immersed and I lived those two months as if I were a local in the country. This was exactly what I wanted but I hadn’t realized that with this pledge,

It’s not good to compare - after all, comparison is the thief of joy.

But I was humbled (to say the least) when I saw first-year students at a higher level than me.

So naturally, when one is forced to shut up, there is only one thing you can do.

I had basically signed an agreement to just shut up.

And that was hard.

I struggled with this a lot and didn’t think I would so significantly. As a certified yapper, this was the opposite to living out my main character dreams. When you’re “forced” to only build and speak on the words you know for a language you’re unfamiliar with, self-expression is limited to simple greetings and shallow conversations. I was surrounded by extremely talented students and many of them came from distinguished schools with some of the best teachers. Many also lived in incredibly diverse communities where they could carry out conversation practice daily.

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I met a lot of different people while studying abroad, and I’m incredibly blessed now that I look back that I humbled my heart enough to just purely listen. I was also the first person from OU to enter into this program so I had no alumni to rely on, no friends that joined me on the trip, and no one that I could meet directly (without extensive planning) because the curriculum was just so intense.

The interesting thing is that when you remove yourself from the world you build, you’re a guest in other’s and suddenly perspectives change.

Sure, I had my own problems. I struggled with solitude, detachment, feelings of homesickness and frustration with the growing pains of language learning.

This wasn’t a continuation of the familiar—it was a forced immersion into solitude. But my skills were so limited and I quite literally couldn’t express those thoughts without breaking the language pledge (and feeling guilty about it).

I called my friends… a lot… sometimes crying about these thoughts and how I ached to get better by the day. My days were a blur of trying to communicate with people who didn’t understand me and trying to navigate situations I didn’t yet grasp. At first, I thought about the struggles I was facing as though they were mine alone. I was the one facing loneliness, the one struggling with the language, the one having to adapt to a new life.

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But because I shut up and the summer in Osaka was so unbearably hot, people’s stories unfolded one by one and I found myself at a crossroads of many different personalities. I was no longer the central character, and suddenly, everyone else was living their own lives with just as much depth and complexity as mine.

These realizations came after I asked so many questions as I was curious enough to poke and prod with their permission.

Many of the other students came from very different backgrounds than mine, each with their own unique motivation as to why they even joined this program. This was what I found most interesting as some saw this trip to be more than just “completing degree requirements” and “improving their language skill.” To some, this trip meant starting fresh and turning away from a community of people that didn’t accept them for who they were back at their school.

To some, this trip meant strengthening their foundations and building connections to bring themselves closer to their dream.

For others, this trip was a fun getaway with people that they could hold onto for memories. And for one, this trip was a way to just make a friend.

I spent a lot of time with this one person over the summer. I think this person became the most interesting to me because they shared the most with me, willing to have those deep conversations that were unfortunately in English a lot of the time. It wasn’t the cultural differences or the language barrier that struck me so deeply; it was the raw, unapologetic contrast in our priorities and why we were there, in Japan, in the same program.

What he was looking for was something most of us took for granted: connection. A place to belong. A community. He wasn’t hoping to find deep, lifelong friendships—he just wanted to make any kind of friend at all, someone to talk to, someone who would notice him. Even if the friendship was shallow, even if it was temporary. He needed that feeling of being seen, of being part of something. His story isn’t mine to tell.

Neither is the story of many other people I had the privilege of meeting during this two-month period. When you’re abroad in a remote country, you see people go through a series of very real emotions, especially when the environment you’re in is as intense as it was. Many struggled with their finances, what life would look like when they went back home, but most of all, the same problems I was facing myself. Solitude, detachment, feelings of homesickness and frustration with the growing pains of language learning. Their stories made me reconsider the idea of sonder.

Recognizing that everyone around me had their own complex lives made me see the depth of each person’s needs and desires and how those desires run deeper than we can comprehend ourselves.

The man whom I spent time with had a desire to love and be loved (platonically and romantically) that wasn’t just a fleeting wish but was the core of who he was. And in that realization blossomed a new kind of respect for the silent struggles people fight every day.

We are a complex species that all come to life with different needs, different desires, and different stories. It’s not enough to think that the problems I’m facing in my own life are things that a bunch of NPCs are reacting to without their own perceptions and thoughts. I also wonder how this entire story is being perceived by the reader right at this moment…

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But no one’s journey is superficial– not unless you take the opportunity to shut up, listen, and maybe fly to another country signing away your English-speaking rights. Your story may be different from mine, but it is just as important. This is a profound lesson I’ve continued to learn in many ways since I’ve studied abroad. Study abroad changed me in ways I could have never imagined and I believe it transformed me for the better because I no longer feel attached to the goal of the main character. It was a blessing to play as the cast of many people’s stories and I hope that when we all grow old and ache in every bone, whether I’m part of a significant memory or not, I hope I’m something that can be remembered.

Sonder.

Oh, how I’ve learned what it truly means to embrace the feeling of sonder.

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「月がきれい。」

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Gaze of a tenant with overdue bills.

“Wait” Crosswalk signs should stick to body language, I lock eyes with an American, She tells me my necklace is pretty It’s a butterfly charm necklace That I haggled from a vendor in Berlin We spoke the same language Worlds apart, Yet the way I adjusted my accent to his Brought the distance to a couple miles.

I knock on my wood pen, Her stare echos in the hills separating us She never saw how my mom Would sneak her hand under her wooden chair To perform Three Subtle Consecutive Knocks When praised for her patience, Or as we say in Arabic, her “saber” We were taught to be wary of love, Like a prickly fruit we call saber, A fruit wrapped in armor, yet tender inside, Its thorns a warning, its heart a forbidden hymn, A delicate balance of danger and grace.

But the American would find it exotic, and she will feel inspired, to pay a palm reader, At the shop down the street, To tell her if the guy from yoga likes her, Or if he notices how she always positions herself, Right in front of him every class, Hoping he likes the view.

If she chose to sit behind him, She would’ve seen the Sisyphus tattoo, 18

by Heba Assi

And how he carried the weight of his family, Like a craven puppet, Since his dad left him and his mom, To go back to his roots in Palestine, Because to him, Love is sacrifice, Love is, his wife perfecting his mom’s recipes, Making sure not a single Western flavor enters his palate, Except when he kisses her, His son is a product of this selfish love, And he wore it like a cape, But he was no superhero, And I guess that Palestinian kabab they had, Prior to his tattoo, Tasted like mac and cheese, Or maybe love gone stale, Is fed to the birds.

He tried to pull the land out of him, Like a wine cork, But he leaked all over the dinner table.

As any other Palestinian, Me and him grew up being taught, That we teach life sir, Yet we have a so called sir, That won’t grant us the honor, Of being buried whole.

Diaspora extends her arms, But her sweater pokes through me, I still see a story, In the eyes of a passersby, Some have shining stars for pupils, Some are due to pay the electricity bill, I wish the little light of hope in me, Can fit the whole world, For me to yell and say, “All of you, come in!”

Before the landlord kicks us all out.

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Moments of Connection Words & Photography by Ariana Sayeed

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*TING!* The sound of two chai cups clinking fills the air as these girls sit and chat on an unusually warm yet inviting fall day. Chai - a fragrant blend of spices, milk, and water - is a staple in various cultures spanning from Asia to the Middle East. It translates to “tea” in Hindi and many other languages. Depending on the region, the mix of spices and the style the way the drink is curated differs.

Yet, regardless of the language, custom, or region, the simple act of offering a creamy, aromatic cup of chai with a warm smile and the question, “Chai?” is universally understood.

The drink holds an essential place in the social scene of many cultures. It can serve as a companion over excitable news, comfort in sorrowful times, or a pause amidst the chaos of daily life.

Whether it be over a joyful toast to a job promotion or offered in quiet solace after a heartbreak, chai is more than a drink it’s a gesture of connection. Amidst the hustle of a city street or the end of a long day in the fields, anyone can stop by a chai stand to take a break, sip a cup, and let the world slow down for a moment.

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In this brief pause, where individual stories and busy lives intertwine, chai becomes a bridge”

Over streaming cups and the clink of glasses, strangers and friends alike find a shared moment of connection and warmth, enabling universes to collide.

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Models: Salma Waheed, Pakistani Aleena Kappen, Indian 24

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THE VIBRANT COMPLEXITY

Words & Photography by Isabel Reed Model: Liliana Pecina

Sonder is the realization that everyone, everywhere, is living their own unique life. For this project, I wanted to visually capture the core of Sonder. Combining photographs I took from Hong Kong and images of Liliana Pecina, I created layered compositions. These help symbolize how we view our surroundings. I depicted Liliana as a towering figure to embrace the contrast between how we see ourselves versus how we perceive others.

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THIS IS HOW VIETNAM MOVES

Words & Photography by Emma Nguyen

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I visited Vietnam in July 2024, traveling by bus throughout the central and southern regions where both sides of my family are from. The streets glistened from the sunlight shining from quick mopeds and helmets. On sidewalks, tin carts and short plastic stools line the roads. Smoke wafts out beneath colored letters, faded from the hot sun. Even still, there is quiet, a calmness that meanders in green fields at noon.

To me, Vietnam is a color story. And this is how Vietnam moves.

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Stories of Cultural Rediscovery and Belonging Words and photography by Joseph Vu

In the midst of a bustling world, it’s easy to overlook the depth and complexity of the lives of those around us.

The feeling of sonder—the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and intricate as our own —resonates deeply with those who navigate the delicate balance of cultural disconnection and identity.

For many, the journey to find a sense of belonging can be both challenging and enlightening, filled with moments of feeling left out and the struggle to reconnect with one’s roots.

Through their unique experiences, these stories explore how

individuals

backgrounds,

have

found

embraced

acceptance

their in

diverse

unexpected

communities, and ultimately discovered that the true essence of belonging transcends cultural boundaries.

Join us as we uncover their heartfelt narratives and the profound lessons they’ve learned along the way, illuminating connection.

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the

universal

quest

for

identity

and

With love,

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Christina Huynh grew up feeling like a stranger in her own home. While many of her Vietnamese peers followed Catholic or Buddhist traditions, Christina’s family was devoutly Christian Baptist. This difference set her apart and created a sense of cultural disconnection from an early age.

Language barriers only deepened this divide, leaving Christina feeling isolated and adrift.

But Christina's story is not one of resignation; it's one of resilience and discovery. When she ventured into the healthcare field, she found a new kind of community—one where empathy and compassion were the common languages. In this environment, Christina felt a profound sense of belonging that transcended cultural boundaries.

Embracing her diverse influences, Christina sees them as enriching rather than conflicting. She believes that understanding various cultural perspectives makes life more beautiful and unique. Her journey has taught her the importance of self-acceptance and authenticity. To anyone feeling disconnected from their roots, Christina offers a piece of hard-earned wisdom: be proud of who you are, and never mask your true self.

love,

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By: Meghana Nuthi

The Threads of Her World

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This photography project explores girlhood and the multifaceted experience of being a woman, featuring individuals from diverse cultural backgrounds within the Asian diaspora. The subjects include women of Thai, Vietnamese, Korean, Indian, Bangladeshi, Palestinian, and Hmong heritage. This project aims to capture themes of empathy, childlike joy such as gossip and play, resilience and beauty, and the enduring significance of cultural identity.

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Models: Andrea Shah Lauren Vongthavaravat Megan Phan Meghana Nuthi Sarah Kim Washy Yang Yara Ketaneh

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Lighting: Erik Phan Primary Photographer: Meghana Nuthi Assistant Photographers: Emma Nguyen & Erik Phan Creative Director: Meghana Nuthi Photo Editing: Meghana Nuthi

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INTERVIEWS BY KOI LONGCRIER

What you?

does

being

Asian

mean

to

“Being open to change and being flexible with how you perceive your culture and your community is what I consider being Asian means. Being Asian is such a fluid idea. It’s so broad; you can’t characterize it as being one thing because that’s stereotypical. There’s just so many ways people grow up and have different experiences. Being able to understand that your perspective and your understanding of being Asian is different from the person next to you, that comes with adaptation and being open to difference.”

What about your Asian identity is important to you?

“The sense of community that comes with my Asian identity is the most important to me. I think many of the family gatherings and cultural celebrations I have experienced throughout my life have shaped me into who I am today. While time and distance often make it difficult to see my family and close friends, there are usually a few times during the year where I am able to spend time with them, and it is always during these times where I feel and witness the most love and support. Seeing how my loved ones are always there for one another makes me extremely proud of my Asian identity, and I hope that one day I can embody those traits of kindness and compassion as well.”

when it comes to different organizations and events on campus and also learning more about my grandparents. Learning more about some of the things they went through in their past and how they still keep in touch with their Asian culture has been really inspiring to me. All that to say, the main reason I identify as Asian is because I am proud of it now being able to witness a lot of the difficulties and challenges that my family had to go through for me to get where I am today.

That resilience is something I want to be proud of. To me, that resilience is tied to our Asian culture and collectivism.”

So that family element and family orientation are things I want to carry over and are things I want to embody. I identify as Asian because of the strength I’ve witnessed in those around me and I would like to portray that as well.”

Why do you identify as Asian?

“For some context, I was really out of tune with my Vietnamese culture growing up, not because I wasn’t proud, but because I just didn’t care much about my history or background. I think the main thing is growing more aware of my Asian culture and Asian community, especially 70

Chloe ngo

What about your Asian identity is important to you?

David Song What you?

does

being

Asian

mean

to

“I don't know that I thought deeply about being Asian until I became an academic and engaged with Asian American studies, but I think that one thing that I would stress especially teaching Asian American studies now at OU is that so often Asian is a category that's imposed from the outside, and that Asian American is surprisingly a relatively recent invention from the late 60s that in some way is developed and articulated in response to that imposition from the outside. So for me, being Asian and Asian American is to deal with that entire history, not only of particular ways that Asian immigrants and Asian Americans live through race in the United States, but also the particular histories of activism and political struggle that they've accomplished over the last 60 to 70 years. So I think I would start off in that respect, that Asian and Asian American didn't become significant to me, until as an adult, when I was working my way through academia, and realized that there was this entire body of scholarship, but also activism that I had to engage in if I wanted to do research about and write about, in my case, Chinese immigrant communities. So I think for me, that's a starting point.”

Asian identity, or Asian American identity, is this constantly moving object that some people can be happy to and are happy to wear that identity. Some people aren't seen as Asian, but want to wear that identity.

And other people are seen as Asian but don't really want to wear that identity, or are uncomfortable with what it implies, or what or what they think it implies. I think I'll give you one example to finish it off. I remember teaching a Hmong American student who had come from Tulsa last year, and we talked significantly about how she was very reluctant to identify as Asian American. She looked South or Southeast Asian. However, you might see that, I think that she looked like members in my own community. She had a first name, at least that I took to be Chinese, but most Americans can have Chinese or similar to Chinese names. But my point is, she said that, because of how her family had come to the US as refugees through the Vietnam War, about the socio-economic position, the religious background that they had had, you know, she, and much of this was in reference to basically growing up in poverty or growing up very working class, she was very reluctant to affiliate with Asian America. And it took this whole semester of this class where I had to explain, Well, there are all kinds of different classed Asian American experiences. Some other Asian Americans both Hmong and not, do grow up in poverty and do grow up in an impoverished, urban neighborhood. Others don't and do fit the I wouldn't say fit the stereotype, but are the children of doctors or engineers or, I don't know, accountants.

That is a feature that's been very much noticed and discussed in contemporary scholarship. So again, the point is just that Asian American identity is this constantly moving target. It's hard to pin down and define because the different struggles in defining it to make it what it is.”

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Why do you identify as Asian?

“Because I have a job in Asian American Studies.

And I guess that's a cynical question, but I'm not trying to dismiss the idea of Asian American studies or having a job. Obviously, I'm interested in it. But, you know, to kind of recap my point, I think I'll just say there are different ways in which people can be invested in Asian American identity. I don't know necessarily that I would be able to articulate how I would be invested in it if I were working outside academia, quite possibly I might not be. I might be invested in Chinese identity or some other different kind of identity.

But to me, what I’m invested in here at OU is being part of a conversation that talks about redefining or moving Asian American identities.”

What you?

does

being

Asian

mean

to

“Having grown up in a predominantly white country, I often felt out of place and “wrong” for being Asian. I felt ashamed and never associated myself with being Korean until I went to an international boarding school. That’s when I got to know my first Asian friends who helped me connect with my Asian identity. They showed me recipes, dances and many other traditions from their countries, including me like I was never before. That’s what being Asian means to me —although one may sometimes feel lonely, we always have a community to connect with.”

In ways that's congruent with the experiences of the people who have to live through diaspora and racialized differences. To me, a practice of Asian America and a kind of institutionalization of Asian America, is not worth it if it doesn't connect with ordinary people and young people's new immigrant experience on the ground. That kind of Asian America is now, I would just say it would be a relic.

It would be an antique, right? And so that's the main thing that motivates me to be involved in Asian American studies, that it's something that's dynamic, and that's something that is still changing, is still being shaped.”

my heritage and that is when I actively started to introduce myself as both from my adoptive country and South Korea.”

I learnt to not hide that part of my identity and proudly present it.”

What about your Asian identity is important to you?

“To me, my Asian pride became the most important aspect of being Asian and a minority. As mentioned before, I was always ashamed for being who I am and I promised myself to never feel like that again.”

Why do you identify as Asian?

“My friends taught me how to be proud of

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shona meyer

I may have been born and raised in the U.S. but my cultural heritage and familial connection comes from the Indian subcontinent.”

I guess you can interpret this question in two ways, one is the physical location of where you come from and then the cultural aspect.”

Aniketh koneru What you?

does

being

Asian

mean

to

“If you asked me what being Asian meant ten years ago, I certainly wouldn't say that it represented South Asia because media representation of Asia often included only East Asia, leaving out Southeast and South Asian cultures. Now, I feel included in the Asian diaspora; being Asian means my identity, heritage and culture, it's an essential part of my life because it is who I am.”

What about your Asian identity is important to you?

naoto masunga What you?

does

being

Asian

mean

to

“When I was in my home country, it meant nothing special. However, after I came here in the United States, I realized being Asian means being ethnically minority and I felt fresh feeling.”

“More specifically with an emphasis on being South Asian is what is so important to me. I don't think people realize that being Asian is not just a fact, it plays a part in the way your life runs. From food, to language, clothes, holidays, family structure, cultural norms, etc. being Asian is not just an identity but a way of life.”

“When I was in my home country, it meant nothing special. However, after I came here in the United States, I realized being Asian means being ethnically minority and I felt fresh feeling.”

Why do you identify as Asian?

Why do you identify as Asian?

“I identify as Asian because the land where my ancestors and family comes from is in the Asian continent.

“Because I was born and raised in an Asian country, and speak Asian language as my first language.”

What about your Asian identity is important to you?

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Jhanvi Patel What you?

does

being

Asian

mean

to

“Being Asian to me means embracing my culture and understanding that while I may not look the same as some of the other people I surround myself with, or in the spaces that I'm in, I can still be proud of my culture and where I came from.”

What about your Asian identity is important to you?

“For me, I’ve always tried to stay super true to the values that being Asian has provided me with. Sometimes when you separate yourselves from, or when you're not surrounded by people who are entirely Asian, who have Asian values, it can be difficult to hold on to that. And so when I try to think about my identity, I try to keep my values the same because I don't want those to change depending on who I'm surrounded by. On top of that, I would say, cultural traditions are incredibly important to me, and my religion is incredibly important, but being Asian American changes your identity slightly. So I think just maintaining my core values and kind of meshing it with being an Asian American.”

Why do you identify as Asian?

“I am from India, which is on the subcontinent, South Asia specifically.

Asian

But in the broader sense, I don't want to lose a piece of my identity that's so vital to who I am as a whole.”

And despite the fact that I was born here and raised here, and by all means, I'm definitely American, but I identify as Asian, because I think who you are is more important than where you're born. It's more of that than where you're born. And obviously culture is incredibly important to me, so I identify as Asian as a way to keep my culture close to me and ensure I’m not forgetting my culture while I grow up in a different country.”

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Meet the Tapioka Fall 2024 Committee

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tapioka magazine