The Herstory of "Bamboo Girl" Zine (2000)

Sabrina Margarita Alcantara-Tan

The Herstory of Bamboo Girl Zine

I do a zine that speaks from my point of view as a queer mixed-blood Asian girl who confronts issues of racism, sexism, and homophobia in an in-your-face kind of way. I started my zine five years ago for many reasons: I couldn't find publications that spoke to me; I was getting totally disenchanted with the punk and hard-core scene; I was sick of explaining my heritages when fielding the constant "Where are you from?" or "What are you?" questions; and I was experiencing way too much harrassmentin the streets of New York City, which took the form of catcalls based on racial stereotypes. I didn't have a constructive way of expressing my annoyance, anger, and rage, and it surely didn't help that I was brought up in a traditionally Pilipino household where I could only speak when spoken to, and where young women are groomed at an early age to just sit and look pretty. That kind of upbringing does not build much of a backbone, especially when faced with people who step over the line or when exploring or questioning ideas I'm not supposed to question in the first place.

I would search like crazy for publications that spoke to me, and since I did not find any, I figured that my voice was either too specific or wrong. Mostly, I found an overwhelming number of martial arts magazines published by white guys with gigantic egos and Asiaphile fantasies. These magazines showed Asians as kitschy, cute, funny, as porno sex kittens and martial artists. I was sick of it. I was looking for a fierce Asian woman to look up to so I could read and feel validated, and it would have been even cooler if she was of mixed race like me.

But no luck.

At the time, I was still hard-coreinto punk, which seemed reallyto speak for me. I was rebellious, and for a long time I wore expressive clothes to match my "fuck everything" attitude. The punk scene just became a tired one for me after hearing all these straight white guys whine about their oppression, while mocking gays and lesbians and excluding many people of color as part of the "regular Copyright@ 2000 by SabrinaMargaritaAlcantara-Tan

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SabrinaMargaritaAlcantara-Tan scene" at shows. These are the same guys that eventually grow up to be middleaged white yuppies who head large companies and make that glass and bamboo ceiling hard to break through for women like me. I was incredulous that these people who labeled themselves punks, mainly because it symbolized and celebrated difference, were making fun of others who were different from them. It became a total double standard. When punk began it was truly an artform;now it's just a mutation of nostalgia that seduces the young. Now its focus is all on clothes and looking the part. I remember marching at Take Back the Night a year or two ago, and as we passed St. Mark's Place, a haven for many New Yorker punks, I saw a punk jump through his friends on the sidewalk and scream at us, "You'rethe freaks!"I was taken aback, because if this kid reallyknew what he was talking about and was being a "real"punk, he wouldn't have been mocking queers, especially on a night that we were protesting violence and gay-bashing against our community. So it wasn't too long until I got disenchanted with punk in general and disappearedfrom the scene altogether. I used to be a regularin nightclubs, but now I hardly go to shows anymore.

In terms of my ethnic identity, I grew up in a culture that was totally white.

Most of the minorities who were my age were trying to be white in order to fit in, and I just felt out of sync with everyone because I felt like I was the only one proud of who I was. I wasn't even sure of who I was, or what the countries of my ancestry were, but I knew that I was "different,"and I was proud of it. I always remembered when my mom would say, "I like that" or "That's different" about certain clothes that I thought would be too risque or strange. Although it was such a simple thing to say, I now hear myself often saying that things that are different are beautiful, perhaps because of my mom's influence.

Later,I found out from my parents that I am Pilipino, and not only that but that I am mestiza as well, which usually means that you're mixed with either White, Spanish, or Chinese blood. In my case, it's all three. Some people became confused, even obsessed, trying to fit me into tight neat boxes, as the "checkone" crap didn't fit with me. "So what are you?" became a constant question I'd be asked.Although it can be annoying, I understand people's need to categorize, but a few years ago I wasn't so tolerant when I was questioning what it meant to be mixed myself. Although I still question my heritage sometimes, it's important for me to validate my identity and help others who identify themselves as a persons of mixed race.

At this time, too, harassment on the streets became a big issue. My blossomfeminism came with my daily use of miniskirts, and many men felt the need ing to vocalize their Asian fantasies to me while I was walking home or to work.

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SabrinaMargaritaAlcantara-Tan Needless to say, I would seethe with rage, especially since, for a time, some even invited themselves to grab my thighs or arms as I passed. So I took up Pilipino martial arts and gained some confidence and control in situations where I would normally feel helpless. Although it didn't cure my apprehension of harassment on the street, it made me feel more at peace. I thought, "Why should I even deal with this crap?"Some people say that I'm "asking for it" because of my hefty tattoos and because of "how I look." Although I don't wear miniskirts as often now, I think it's a bunch of bull that men can use that excuse to feel free to say things to me or to touch me without my permission. What makes them think I'm attracted to men in the first place? Is that something they have ever considered?I have no doubts that many of these men felt entitled to touch me and get in my personal space without asking because I'm Asian. They think that I won't mind and that I may even like it, or even that I may be grateful for the attention.

When I open my mouth to tell them that their advances are not appreciated, their rose-colored shades are ripped off and they spout hatred my way, calling me bitch or dyke.

All in all, the invalidation that's been shoved down my throat-people telling me that I shouldn't feel what I feel, that I can't be such-and-such because I don't look like it, that I must look a certain way, that I'm not "feminine"enough if I get tattoos or cut my long locks-all this invalidation I've wanted to break for so long. And since I have kept a diary since my first communion (second grade, for those of you who can't remember that far back), it was easier for me to write on paper than to vocalize. Although someday I wanted to be good at speaking up, I thought I should at least start somewhere. And that place was through writing.

A friend of mine at the time (who does a zine called Plotz) finally said one day, "Ifyou can'tfind something to read that addressesyour issues, why don't you do your own zine?"I was like, "No way. I can't do that," but then one day I just started cutting and pasting and writing on my computer, and Bamboo Girl issue number one was pushed out of the oven. It turned out to be one of the most cathartic things I've ever done, and I haven't stopped publishing it since.

When I started doing my zine, it was mainly a selfish act. I just wanted to write stuff down to get things off my chest because if I didn't, I'd end up doing something heinous and end up in jail. I didn't even think that anyone would want to read my writings. But I just passed a few issues out to friends of mine who were all reallysupportive, and by word of mouth it became something some people, especiallyAsian and mixed-race women, could relate to. I was amazed at the thought that other people agreedwith some of the things I was thinking, and

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SabrinaMargaritaAlcantara-Tan then the mail started coming in. That's when I started making friends with all types of people who read or wanted to read my zine, and it wasn'tonly mail from women of color. The spectrum included straight guys who wrote to me too.

Most were supportive and interested in what I was publishing. Then one day I reallylooked at what I had written and realizedthat I'd created my own truths by printing my zine. Now, finally, there was some validation for myself and other women and men who held similar views.

Now that my reader base is somewhat larger, I try to keep in mind that I need to focus a little more on exactly what I'm talking about. It'sstill more or less a collection of different things: herstory, cultural facts, exercises (to keep your queer feminist colored gal self in check), interviews (with Asians and mutts who are doing significant things but may or may not be getting much press in the mainstream), and articles for self-empowerment, no matter if you're a queer colored woman or a straight white guy.

What started off as something to do on the side at my boring day job, where I copied my first couple of issues, became something that is now printed professionally. Although my format is constantly changing and growing in different ways, I've alreadyresolved not to give in to the "divazinester attitude" that some people who publish small press zines have. I've met some reallygreat people who do zines, but I have to admit I've met a couple of nutcakes and egomaniacs who I definitely don'twant to be caught in a darkalleywith, let alone a zine convention.

In addition to a change in the layout and design of the past two issues, the content and the tone of my voice has changed as well. I think I will always have that anger at injustice and that determination to want to do something about it, but at least my rage has been tamed and redirectedso I don't fall off the deep end and physically attack someone like I used to. When I didn't have control over things in my life and was feeling the most powerless, physically attacking others became second nature. I wouldn't say that writing Bamboo Girl has given me control over all aspects of my life, but it definitely has helped me get things off my chest in a more constructive way. And in the process, I've been growing inwardly as well. To know martial arts and to have that confidence that comes with knowing your own culture is a strong power to have. That is, in its distilled form, not being hambog.There is none of this Tiger Shulman show-off let-me-breakboards-with-my-head-to-show-my-virility crap. In Tagalog (the main Pilipino language), that's called being hambog.

I still have a ways to go to achieve inner peace and all those shenanigans, but in the meantime my zine has been a wonderful way for me to work through my mental clutter as well as to help me hook up with others who share similar and different views.

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SabrinaMargaritaAlcantara-Tan I am constantly accused or praised for things I say in my zine. I guess the bottom line is that I'm always pushing the envelope because there needs to be dialogue. But I don't bring up certain issues just to create controversy,which is something I think some people misunderstand; it's just that some of my viewpoints are innately different from others, and that's fine. In fact, I celebrate the fact that I can learn from others' viewpoints, and, as long as they're open to hearing mine, I'd like to exchange ideas with them.

You can reach me at: P.O. Box 507, NYC 10159-0507 BambooGirl@aol.com Bamboogirl.com

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