TAPIOKA Magazine - Spring 2024 | ECLIPSE

TAPIOKA ECLIPSE Spring 2024

CREDITS

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Editor-in-Chief Anthony Nguyen

Creative Director Washy Yang

Asst. Editor-in-Chief Emma Nguyen

Director of Design Janes Le

Director of Writing Anusha Fathepure

Director of Logistics Grace Simmons

Angelina Lang

Dana Ta

Emily Nguyen

Erik Phan

Ivan Ma

Jason Asombrado

Kaella Glenn

Kaly Phan

Kathie Nguyen

Koi Longcrier

Mahlinee Chonlahan

Nhu Van

Sanika Navalkar

Thao Tran

Lauren Vongthavaravat

TAPIOKA TAPIOKA · 3

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 APIDAMENA community and celebrate the rich heritage and history that comes with it.

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Photography by Erik Phan

CONTENTS 07

Letter from the Editor

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Between Spaces

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Cinnamon Doughnuts

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Eclipsed Histories: Avatar: The Last Airbender’s Dark Sun and Chinese Culture

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Let the Light In (Cia Hlub Hnub Ci Dua)

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Gần mực thì đen, gần đèn thì sáng

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Resilience

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Asian Royalty

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TAPIOKA 2024 Seniors

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Sponsors

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Photography by Emma Nguyen

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Letter from the Editor An eclipse represents the juxtaposition of light and dark. A sign of gradual transformation, signaled by the short-lived moment of beauty between the Moon and the Sun. Our lives are defined by this perpetual state of flux. We exist in an everchanging positionality in America as Asian Americans, while simultaneously experiencing the smaller hidden transformations of the everyday.

The friends, who have gradually grown up and may never see again. The parents, who have slowly acquired gray hairs as our days with them become glaringly more finite. The intergenerational trauma and guilt, as we begin to understand that our parents are people too. The memories of the “good old days,” as we waited for the future to happen instead of living in the present.

As I approach the end of my time at the University of Oklahoma, I cannot help but be so grateful to everyone that I have had the opportunity to meet through Tapioka. From the bottom of my heart, please know that it has truly been an honor to serve as your Editor-in-Chief. This magazine has transformed my life over these past few years, and I hope that our work and our stories will impact you in the same way.

Signing off,

Anthony Nguyen | Editor-in-Chief

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BETWEEN SPACES Photography & Words: Emma Nguyen Lighting: Grace Simmons Talent: Sarah Hwang

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Set across the cityscape of downtown Oklahoma City, “Between Space” is an exploration of an eclipsing soul, shining with bright dreams restrained by sluggish suburbia. The struggling mind remains occupied by late night reflections, equal parts lucid and mystifying.

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When I turned four years old, my life changed in the best way possible. My dad had accepted a job offer in Hyderabad, India, and my family and I were on our way from the States to live there.

My formative years spent in India effectively changed my brain chemistry; I went from a shy, reserved, and short-tempered young girl, to someone full of personality and passion.

The first time I ever tried a donut was on the way home from school in the first grade. My mom and I sat in the back of the rickshaw, and I steadily awaited seeing the neighborhood bakery’s bright red sign. The wind tousled my braided hair as I tapped my black shoes against each other—the glossy sheen of them reflecting the hot/boiling sun. Every day after that, I bought a cinnamon donut on the way home from school.

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From ages four to eight, my days were filled with vibrant rickshaw rides to school, festive celebrations of Holi and Diwali on our neighborhood patio, and sipping refreshing coconut water under the piercing Hyderabad sun rays. During the school year, I indulged in golden cinnamon donuts and spent my summers in the rejuvenating monsoon rain, drenching the earth, and my simple life, in a symphony of joy and renewal.

One of the best parts about living in India was being able to live so close to my extended family, especially my grandparents. Much like a cinnamon donut, the mornings I spent with my grandma learning Marathi felt like the warm embrace of opening the oven, as well as the comforting sweet spiced aroma of my grandpa’s masala chai filling the air.

These became my fondest memories, but suddenly a storm, unlike the monsoon I had grown to love, hit me in ways I would have never expected. When I was eight, my family was moving back to my hometown, Omaha, Nebraska. However, it didn’t feel like home.

Hyderabad did.

When I moved back to the States, life didn’t feel real. The academic system was the largest culture shock. I struggled with my bilinguality, code-switching every time I spoke to my grandparents over the phone. Middle school brought struggles with my dual identity. Like my Asian peers, I dealt with navigating stereotypes, micro-aggressions, and isolation. The difference was that it wasn’t like this before.

On one hand, I had my bright and unforgettable childhood, on the other, I had my unknown but burgeoning adolescence. I understood that life in America brought more opportunity to my family, but I couldn’t help but feel lost. I tried to avoid change and mimic the life I used to have back home in Hyderabad. The cinnamon donuts here were too sweet and often left me feeling parched.

This unsatisfied feeling spread to my personal life, as I continued to struggle with fitting in.

Around high school, I had come to terms with the fact that my American identity had eclipsed my Indian one. I was proudly Indian American, and I was not afraid to showcase that. My school nurtured our Asian population with festive holidays, community exposure, and an overall sense of being seen – nothing short of the poignant feeling AASA fosters at OU. As I stay in touch with my grandparents, extended family, and overall heritage, I am not ashamed to say that I continue to indulge in the delightfully sweet cinnamon donut.

Now, as a college freshman I think of my childhood in India as a developmental experience, a core memory, and an integral part of who I am. It is not a period of time that I have lost, but an emblem of identity that I have gained. My American identity does eclipse my Indian one, but much like an eclipse, the shadow is fleeting. It creates a mark, defines, and sparks awe, but doesn’t remain permanent. It is fluid, but profound, and provides me with boundless happiness.

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Eclipsed Histories:

Avatar: The Last Airbender’s Dark Sun and Chinese Culture by Thao Tran On April 8, 2024, North America experienced

members of these nations to wield their

its first total solar eclipse since 2017. For those

element. The Avatar, capable of mastering all

who had the chance to witness the total solar

four elements, is tasked with maintaining

eclipse, I have both good and bad news. The

peace and balance. When an Avatar dies, they

good news is that firebenders lose their power

reincarnate cyclically: fire, air, water, and

during a solar eclipse. The bad news? Well, if

earth. Avatar: The Last Airbender’s story

you’re a firebender, you’ll lose your power

revolves around Aang, a twelve-year-old who

during a solar eclipse. I’m sure that if you

happens to be the Avatar of his generation.

watched Avatar: The Last Airbender (ATLA),

The Fire Nation, aware the next Avatar will be

you know exactly what I’m talking about. A

an Air Nomad, annihilates the whole race,

total solar eclipse occurs every 18 months or so

leaving Aang as the last airbender and the

across the world. When this happens, the

series' focal point. The show is about Aang and

moon will pass between the sun and the earth,

his friends as they try to defeat the Fire

completely blocking the sun. As a result of the

Nation.

sun's blockage, the sky will darken, much like dawn or dusk.

For those unfamiliar with the show, it is set in a world divided into four nations: the Water Tribe, the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation, and the Air Nomads, each with unique “bending” abilities. These bending abilities allow the

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In Avatar: The Last Airbender, Team Avatar finds the lost library of the all-knowing spirit, Wan Shi Tong. There, Sokka uncovers an event the Fire Nation tried to bury. They discover on the darkest day in Fire Nation history: the solar eclipse, also know as the Day of The Black Sun,firebenders will temporarily lose their bending abilities. Firebenders rely on the Sun for their power, so when it’s blocked during the solar eclipse, so is their power. Team Avatar used this newfound knowledge to their advantage as they planned on attacking the Fire Nation and taking down Fire Lord Ozai to end the war.

Avatar:

The

influenced

by

Last

Airbender

Asian

is

cultures,

heavily

especially

Chinese traditions. In the series, as stated, firebenders draw power from the Sun while waterbenders are influenced by the Moon. This mirrors the Chinese belief in the balance of opposing forces represented by the Sun and the Moon. The Sun is linked to yang energy, which is embodied by warmth, liveliness, and brightness. Conversely, the Moon is linked with yin energy, related to coolness, calmness, and receptivity. This concept of balance is central to Chinese culture, emphasizing the harmony between natural elements. Chinese astronomer Zhang Heng said, “The fire gives out light, and the water reflects it.” This reflection

of

traditional

Chinese

wisdom

illustrates the importance of Asian culture to the show’s storytelling.

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In Avatar: The Last Airbender, the first recorded solar eclipse was famously known as “The Darkest Day in Fire Nation History.” It happened on the nineteenth day of the seventh month of the cultivate rule of the Year of the Dragon. In Chinese culture, a solar eclipse symbolizes a bad omen. Ancient Chinese folklore believed that solar eclipses happen because a celestial dragon is trying to devour the Sun. In fact, the Chinese word for eclipse is

日 食 (re shi), which directly

日食

ECLIPSE ”

translates to “sun-eat.” Within the show, dragons

are

the

original

firebenders,

responsible for teaching bending to the Sun Warrior civilization and Wan, the first Avatar.

Chinese culture believes that a solar eclipse will lead to the end of the world.

To prevent this, they traditionally would try to scare the dragon away by making loud noises.

This can be anything from banging drums and pots, firing firecrackers, or even shooting arrows into the sky to chase the dragon away.

In the show, Fire Lord Sozin started the first Dragon Hunts. In the beginning, only a few were killed. However, over time, there were rumors of rewards and prestige bestowed upon dragon slayers. It was told that whoever killed a dragon would earn an honorary title, and their firebending powers would increase a thousand-fold. Such encouragement escalated the killing until it was believed they had all died. In the last season of the show, it was revealed the species had survived but went into hiding.

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There

are

many

interesting

correlations

between Avatar: The Last Airbender and Chinese culture. I definitely encourage those who are interested to look more into the different cultural inspirations the show pulled from. I haven’t watched ATLA in years, but when I heard about the solar eclipse, it immediately reminded me of the Day of the Black Sun. This is such an important part of the story, and I’m sure many Avatar: The Last Airbender fans remember this scene as well.

Unfortunately, Team Avatar failed in this important operation. However, this sets an important personal development for Aang and the team. In the show, the solar eclipse was an important day for everyone as it was their chance to attack the Fire Nation when it was at its lowest. Like Team Avatar, the eclipse this year is just as important to us too (since the next one over the U.S. won’t be until 2044).

Unlike Team Avatar, luckily, we don’t have to save the world. We can just appreciate the event for what it is.

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Let the Light In (Cia Hlub Hnub Ci Dua)

by Washy Yang

When I’m alone, I like to lay in my bed and stare at the ceiling.

I usually lay there to ponder about what I did that day or my plans for the next.

But this time, I thought about you.

A mother who would laugh at my cooking skills rather than scold me A mother who said, “when you go to college, I will start working again so that it won’t be so hard on you.”

I thought about how distant we’ve become.

It was as if I was blinded by this darkness that I would never be enough for you.

A darkness that continued to eclipse into full totality.

I didn’t realize that I stopped looking at your face. Your youthful face that people would praise.

This face is now tired, dull, and filled with lines of aging around your eyes and forehead. Your sharp jawline no longer exists as your cheeks now hang at the sides of your face.

I didn’t realize how much you have aged, how much time that has passed, and how privileged I am to have such a loving mother like you.

Why did we ever let the distance between us get this far?

A mother who woke up at 6 a.m. every morning to do my hair and cook me breakfast.

A mother who would wait for me outside in the rain after school A mother who was sad and not angry when she found out I was eating less 22

“You did the best you could mom, Thank you so much, ua tsaug os mom.”

If only I had said this to you more often then.

How would we have been like now?

Let us tear away this curtain and let the light shine in again, Thank you for loving me so much mom.

“Kuv zoo siab hais tias koj yog kuv niam, I’m glad that you are my mom.”

Love, Koj tus ntxhais nkauj ntxawm (your youngest daughter), Washy Yang

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Gầ n mực thì đen, gầ n đèn thì sáng.

by Angelina Lang It is in love alone that carries light to all things.“Gần mực thì đen, gần đèn thì sáng” is a Vietnamese folk saying that translates to: When you are near the light, you become it; when you are near the dark, you become it.

Growing up, my immigrant father devoted his parenthood to making sure pieces of his life in Vietnam were part of the pieces of my life in America. He mainly did this by teaching me short sayings that often equated to life lessons. The one about the light in particular stuck with me.

I interpreted it as referring to one’s chosen family, or the people in our lives that we choose to keep around. There is something so special about two people saying yes to one another: in friendship, as kin, or as lovers.

In choosing the relationships that held dear to me, I kept in mind what my ba told me all those years ago.

I deserve to be surrounded by people that embrace me as the sun does the Earth and as the stars do for dusk’s sky.”

This piece is a reflection of the analogy to light and dark. Hands reach out to the light— choosing it. The aura bleeds right back into the fingers, for light chooses the people that welcome it first.

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RESILIENCE

by Yara Ketaneh

Resilience is hereditary It is passed down through generations

The goats and roosters in the pit of the house The patio that separates the farm from the rest

It is evolutionary It is a means to survival

My sitta sitting on the stairs Her cane right next to her A platter of doallea on the top step

It has been passed down to me Along with the shape of my eye And the curve of my mouth My town is on a hill in the west bank You enter by a taxi with no seatbelts We are two minutes away I know because I see the gates to my uncle’s home We are right outside of town We race through the winding path There are no speed limits here We are almost at my sitta's house Resilience is formed through hardship There is always talk about generational trauma But never the resilience that is born from it Time and time again I hear ”They are so brave”

Resilience is hereditary It is passed down through generations But they’ve uprooted my olive trees They call my keffiyeh a terrorist symbol And my nationality is now a political statement There is no such thing as an heirloom because you cannot Keep material things when your own home is not even planted The only thing you can pass down is strength It is the only thing you can carry It’s 2016, me and my dad are watching the news It’s a contentious debate, who is the lesser of two evils I ask out of all places, why did he immigrate to this one

My cousins rush out to grab our bags I stumble up the stairs, the two-day journey is too much for my eight-year-old body

“Yara, America is the best country on earth” “Baba, how? There is so much to fix.”

“Yara, listen to me. I am right.

You may not be able to understand why right now, but I promise you this is the case.

There is no other country where you can own land like this one.”

The first thing I always notice is the grape vines that wrap around the terrace Protecting my sitta’s home from the outside

In America, you own your land And you can pass it down generation by generation by generation

But it’s not about bravery If one falters, one ceases to exist

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In Falstin, you never know how long that land or lineage will last

It is evolutionary It is our means for survival

When my sitta passed away She took her goats and roosters with her Her grapevines withered away and the doallea she made from them

My Falstin, I’m so scared for you You’re losing your people, your olive trees, your rivers and seas

When I return to Falstin the house is not the same

I’m afraid you will only be mentioned in history books

But there is still a pomegranate tree that bears the most delicious fruit It is the tree my sido and father use for shade while they talk politics

That I will only be able to show my children pictures of you That you will be too far deep underneath the rubble

When I list my greatest fears I never talk about my loss of land

But I should not be scared Because Falstin You have given my people strength You pass down the resilience rooted in your soil

I mean, it’s so selfish to think about When most of my people have already lost theirs I am so privileged to have this fear Because the bombs and bulldozers have still not met my land They’ve only whispered their arrival The same summer my sido passed away The tree had stopped bearing its fruit I have not gone back yet but I don’t know if I can bear it The grape vines were cut down years ago The goats and roosters sold And now the pomegranate tree has dried up My uncle moved in It is not the same

No matter how many maps they erase or burn Falstin, I know your name has been there for thousands of years 75 years is nothing to you Falstin my feet may be planted here But I assure you the roots beneath me are outstretched They extend through the oceans and rivers and seas between us Falstin you may be tired But resilience is hereditary It might not be the same But you are still there And so are we

Resilience is hereditary It is passed down through generations

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Asian Royalty

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Talent: Yara Ketaneh Grace Lam Interview: Kaella Glenn Sanika Navalkar

Photography: Erik Phan Lighting: Dana Ta Makeup: Laura Nguyen Lina Thai Hair: Syeda Sayera

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Yara Ketaneh

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We rarely delve deeper into advocacy for people who don't come from the same country that we're in. Through my platform which advocates for refugee women internationally, I want people to see situations that are happening around the globe and see that they can also contribute and try to fix those problems.

I want to increase the quality of life that these refugee women are enduring. I want to make their lives just a little bit better.”

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Grace Lam

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On campus, it's hard for women to see themselves represented in spaces like leadership or even in their desired career paths.

I wanted to create opportunities for girls to mentor each other and also be mentored.”

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TAPIOKA 2024

SENIORS

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Interviewed by Anusha Fathepure

IVAN MA

Environmental Science, Class of 2024 Writer

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How did you get involved with Tapioka Magazine?

I heard about it from Anthony.

I’ve known Anthony since freshman year of college, so when I heard that he was making the magazine I decided to help around.

Honestly I’m very creative so writing appealed to me.

What have you learned in your time here?

It’s not easy to run the committee.

There are a lot of moving parts to make the magazine come together as a whole. During my time here, I’ve learned a lot about different perspectives on Asian culture.

Definitely things that I probably would have never really thought about unless I joined the magazine.

It opened my eyes to different forms of cultural content out there right now for the Asian American community.

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What is one of your favorite memories?

When I first joined, there was a pretty small group and we did monthly magazines instead of semesterly. That was pretty stressful but it was also fun because we bonded in those moments.

What’s a favorite piece you did?

I think it was in the “Rebellion" magazine. I did an interview with one of my friends from high school. It was about his experience with moving from STEM to other ventures.

He dropped out of college to pursue other things.

I feel like that it was a good piece because I personally feel like Asian culture can be very focused around STEM. Just having a different point of view on education and life was a nice and was an interesting story.

What do you plan to do postgraduation?

I will actually take a gap year and try to figure out what to do from there. At the moment, I'm looking towards grad school after the gap year, but it’s pretty half and half between either grad school or just working full time.

It really depends on what grad schools are out there and funding. It's really up in the air at the moment.

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Journalism, Class of 2024 Writer

KALY PHAN

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What have you learned in your time here?

This is gonna sound so cheesy, but it showed me that I really want to do this as a career.

Tapioka is a little more fun and less strict than my work at the OU Daily and the OU Nightly, but everyone still cares about the messages they are putting out. The stories they are writing, the art and photography pieces that they are putting together.

The Asian American community is a very big thing to encompass, but we’ve done it. It really showed me, like even if I wasn't actively writing things, that I still wanted to be a part of journalism. In Tapioka, we’re telling the stories of Asian American students and Asian American people in the community. It really solidified for me that this is where I want to be, this is what I want to do. Even if I'm not actively writing myself, telling stories is where I want to be.

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How did you get involved with Tapioka Magazine?

Anthony asked me. He cornered me, I say affectionately, at an AASA meeting. I remember because I had just become assistant video editor at the OU Daily but I was still writing my big spring magazine piece about affirmative action and Asian American students.

He asked “Do you think you could do this?” At this time the magazine was monthly publications, so I asked if I could start in March. In my time here, I’ve written a few pieces, I’ve helped copy edit and I’ve taken photos.

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What is one of your favorite memories?

It was at a Vietnamese Student Association meeting, and I was hanging around Anthony Nguyen, the editorin-chief, and Emma, the assistant editor-in chief.

They were workshopping ideas for a new name because at the time, it was just called the “AASA Magazine.”

They were throwing out names and Emma was like, “What about Tapioca with the ‘oc’ spelled with ‘ok’ to stand for Oklahoma?”

Anthony was immediately like, “That’s a stupid idea.

Don’t do that.”

I laugh a lot when I think of that moment because it ended up being the one that we used.

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What’s a favorite piece you did?

The piece I am most proud of is when I interviewed my mom. It was a piece for “Trauma.” I know my mom has told me before that she doesn’t really feel like what happened almost 50 years ago during the Fall of Saigon impacted her when she came to the US, so I asked her “would you be willing to do a phone call and just talk about it?”

My mom and I are close but I was surprised that she said yes. For me, personally, growing up in America I did not know any Viet because my mom watched how her sister’s children had such a hard time in school. Having a Vietnamese first name and having a distinctly Asian accent made their lives hard, so she didn't do that with me. I felt very disconnected from that part of me.

My first name was actually legally changed.

My first name used to be my Viet name then my middle name my English name, and my mom swapped it. I don’t blame her for it, because if I were in her position, I probably would have done the same thing, but I feel like that part was ripped from me without my consent. During the interview I got to talk to her about what happened to her and have her further explain to me, “I did that for you all, so you guys wouldn't have to go through what I went through.

You would be American.” That was really healing for me.

What do you plan to do post-graduation?

I want to either produce or direct for broadcast television, specifically broadcast TV. I’m currently talking with several broadcast stations for jobs, so I personally don’t have a job yet, but that’s where it’s going and I’m hopeful.

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ANTHONY NGUYEN

Computer Engineering and Mathematics, Class of 2024 Editor-in-Chief 48

How did you create Tapioka Magazine?

In the summer of 2022, before my junior year, I was talking to the AASA organization advisor, Cody Thach, about some things I could do as secretary. One of the roles of the secretary was to create a newsletter, informing our general body members of what's going on with our organization, events, etc. We started talking about magazines, and he is a big fan of zine culture, so we thought it'd be cool to do something like that.

It was a bit rough in the beginning because I didn't really know what I was doing nor did I really think that it was going to be such a large shift. When the first magazine released, a lot of people were like, “Oh, what is this new thing? It's awesome!” People started to talk to me about how they could get involved.

I think that this year, we’ve really found that place where we’re happy with how the magazine has grown. I think the biggest difference between last year and this year is that we take a wider approach to Asian American stories and narratives.

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What have you learned in your time here?

First and foremost, I think perfectionism is stupid and useless. I used to think I had to make the best product, the perfect magazine, and that's a lifetime away from the things I want to prioritize in life. I think the most important thing is to focus on the connections that form in Tapioka. I learned to just focus on growth. You don't have to bother with perfection, you just need to be constantly wanting to become better for this magazine.

I also learned to just do what you're passionate about. I am an engineering major, I’m a big STEM kid, and I know I'll probably work in STEM and get a good job. But this magazine has been one way I can pursue my own passions, and I hope I've been able to provide that to OU’s Asian American community. I shouldn't be afraid to pursue the things that I would like to do — whether it's career, hobbies, whatever creative pursuits — because you know, the Asian American stereotype as the “model minority.” I think having this artistic medium from the Asian American community is important because it shows that we are more than a stereotype. Other students have told me they really enjoy seeing the artistic side of Asian America.

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What is one of your favorite memories?

One of my favorite memories was the November 2022 AASA Freshman Representative photoshoot. I had barely met these freshmen before, and we had this plan to do this super cool modern photoshoot. In that photoshoot, we got to talk and interview them for this piece. It was the first time that I got to meet new people through Tapioka, and they were all people with fascinating and unique perspectives.

I’ve also had really great memories from this year. It’s not just one individual moment but rather a series of moments.

I’ve been able to see my team become more connected and that has been really satisfying and fulfilling for me. Tapioka is half “making the magazine” and half “the people you meet and the relationships you form.”

As I say to my friends, the real magazine is the friends you make along the way.

Meeting these people, hanging out with them —that’s the thing I love most.

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What’s a favorite piece you did?

In the "Passion" magazine, we worked with an Asian American ballerina, Alayna Wong. I could gush about that interview all day. She had this immense passion for her craft and an aura of dedication. It was also very eye-opening to see how her Asian American identity intertwined with her ballerina career.

What do you plan to do post-graduation?

I currently have plans to attend graduate school to get my Master’s at the University of Washington. I would love to work in the field of data science to use data to tell the real stories of Asian America. I hope to take my experience with Tapioka and use my computational skills to hopefully do good for, do right by, and help out Asian Americans like myself.

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THANK YOU TO OUR SPONSORS

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