beginning - ISSUE 01

issue #1 : winter 2019

PORTRAIT the beginning

issue #1 : winter 2019

PORTRAIT the beginning

front cover Minsuh Park

photo Alex Kim

Tell me,

what does your portrait look like?

Welcome to Portrait, Vassar’s Asian Students’ Magazine

Dear Reader, As the Asian Students Committee (ASC) Chair for 2018-2019 academic year, I am very pleased to present to you the first issue of Portrait: Vassar’s Asian Students’ Magazine.

In the past years, ASC has been a space for Asian-identifying students to bond through large scale events and community-building activities hosted by the Asian Students’ Alliance (ASA). As much as I love getting to know new people and forming a new community, I also feel attached to old things: old friends, old film pictures, old journals. That is how the idea of creating a magazine came to my mind.

past

inspires

portrait

inspires

future

Inspired by the archives of all the work ASA has done in the past, Portrait is an honest portrayal of voices, of lived experiences, and of artworks by Vassar's Asian/Asian American community, in hopes that it will serve as an homage that we can all look back to in generations to come.

As such, our first issue features interviews with Asian immigrants at Vassar, articles about Asian food (yum!), the Asian American identity, ASA’s history, the boom of contemporary Asian trends throughout the US, and Asian artists. Along with these outstanding articles, we bring to you a couple of fascinating projects: journals and Vassar alumni spotlight.

I would like to thank every ASC member and contributor for all the hard work put into this magazine, and express special thanks to Mr. Fritz Friedman for all the advice and guidance. Hope you enjoy our first issue!

Yours truly,

Alex Kim

Founder / editor-in-chief jiwonkim@vassar.edu

Letter from

President Bradley Why is understanding so difficult to accomplish? It seems power is always in the room, and the key to understanding, which is learning, changes the power balance. Political, economic, and social hierarchies have been upturned over millennia through education; and in some cases, education has been used to advance ideas and customs that solidified existing power structures, embedding them into future generations. Delving into how power has been used and navigated in our intersecting and diverging histories can bring us face to face with ungracious, embarrassing, guilt-inducing, and challenging stories about ourselves, each other, and our world. But, the emotional discomfort of these topics should not dissuade us or slow our progress toward engaged pluralism; rather it should energize us with a sense of urgency to tackle these issues as challenges of our time, and integrate the realities of the histories and stories we come to know into our lives going forward. For every moment of difficulty, many moments of connection and joy also emerge when we share even the difficult parts of our intergroup relationships.

Courtesy of Gladwyn Lopez

Dear all, I am delighted to offer this letter of encouragement to the Asian Student Committee, as it works to build a strong community for Asian and Asian American students on our campus. One of the most exciting parts of Vassar is the diversity of students as related to culture, histories, and dreams, as these infuse the educational experience at Vassar with the dynamism and challenges that we face, as global citizens, in our era. When we engage in ways that open ourselves to each other and new perspectives, we undertake the key practice of learning: listening to understand. Not to defend or attack but simply to understand. As if understanding were simple. We know it is not, and sometimes the work of explaining one’s personal past or patterns of history can be frustrating, especially if it seems others do not absorb or accept the information.

I see the enormous potential in the Asian Student Committee’s work for embodying engaged pluralism, where we do not assimilate (to erase difference) or segregate (to isolate from difference) but rather we engage learning about how our differences are related, inviting diverse voices to the table, and creating an environment in which every person and every social group can contribute their perspectives and histories to the shared task, and in which conflict and discord are channeled into learning. And when we have the personal power and self-confidence that comes with deep and broad education, we can share that power with others—making room for new voices to shape our collective future. Such a process promotes authentic community and offers the possibility of not only important deconstruction but also synthesis and hope for a new way forward together.

I wish you a year of adventure and discovery. Thank you for your commitment to community and learning, and good luck!

President Bradley

contents

photo Am Chunnananda

5

7

West Meets East

9

Hotpot

11

You Are What You Eat

13

Tracing Back the ASA Footsteps

18

Alumni Spotlight

21

Colorful, political, and pertinent, these Asian artists are painters of the future

27

Migration Stories

39

Hovering in Between

41

Journals

illustration Sunmin Park

Ethan Ebesu River Zhao Josh Kim Jane Ahn Grace Han Johnson Lin Alex Kim Am Chunnananda Emma Chun Sandra Yu Tamika Whitenack Taylor Stewart Katherine Niu Sunmin Park

Editor-in-Chief Alex Kim

Treasurer Johnson Lin

Lead Designers Alex Kim Am Chunnananda

Writers Josh Kim Jane Ahn Johnson Lin Alex Kim Emma Chun Sandra Yu Tamika Whitenack Taylor Stewart

Designers Sunmin Park Johnson Lin Publicity Manager Grace Han

Artists Ethan Ebesu River Zhao Am Chunnananda Sunmin Park Katherine Niu Contributors Elena Furuhashi

6

West Meets East JA N E A H N

“common” background. The movie is monumental in film history—in an August 20, 2018 Washington Post article, If you walked into a movie theater over the

columnist Michael Gerson points out the immigrant

summer, you most likely saw posters for Crazy Rich

experience and the clash of cultures. Gerson writes, “the

Asians. Maybe you’re more of a homebody with a well-

product of the American immigrant experience proves

used Netflix account and have seen commercials for To

every bit as tough and resourceful. . . . [Asian Americans]

All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. Or perhaps you’ve seen

are seeing their story reflected not in a tragedy but in a

ads for certain brands while scrolling through Instagram

brilliant comedy of class and manners.” The love story

or Facebook, with styles you haven’t encountered before

between Rachel Chu and Henry Golding introduced

in American fashion.

Eastern ideas about family, love, and sacrifice that were

otherwise foreign to the individualistic societies of

From media to fashion, there’s no doubt in

the presence that Eastern markets have had on Western

America, broadening perceptions of other cultures.

culture. With the proliferation of social media, Asian

trends are able to more easily access the Western world.

Young—the movie To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before is

Movies, such as Crazy Rich Asians, especially gain traction

much more realistic and relatable, while presenting a twist

quickly. As the highest-grossing romantic comedy with

in the beginning. Originally told through a book, To All

a $325 million global profit, the movie was praised for

the Boys I’ve Loved Before presents a unique and unusual

its representation of Asian actors and actresses in a

love story. While it follows a normal teenage girl’s crushes,

white-dominated Hollywood. Although controversies

our protagonist Laura Jean writes romantic letters to

surrounded casting decisions, many critics commended

each crush, addressing them but never sending them. She

the all-Asian cast as a step towards proper representation

chooses instead to keep them hidden in her closet, until

in a historically racist and exclusive industry.

her sister mails them out for her and exposes her feelings.

Crazy Rich Asians stars Constance Wu as Rachel

Once the letters are out, Laura Jean must face her feelings

Chu and Henry Golding as Nicholas Young. It tells the

and learn to deal with problems she’s never dealt with

story of a professor whose boyfriend turns out to be from

before.

one of the richest families in Asia. Rachel must then earn the approval of Nick’s family, who looks down on her

7

But we’re not all rich and powerful like Nicholas

Released on Netflix with a

Unfortunately, issues of cultural appropriation have also manifested.

96% Rotten Tomatoes rating, To All

According to Cambridge University, cultural appropriation is defined as “the act

the Boys I’ve Loved Before garnered

of taking or using things from a culture that is not your own, especially without

much positivity from the public, even

showing that you understand or respect this culture.” With stars such as Got7’s

catapulting an Asian yogurt drink,

Jackson, EXO’s Kai, and BigBang’s Taeyang and GD all having sported dreads

Yakult, to popularity. However, this film

at one point in their careers, many fans have been quick to point out ignorance,

received criticism for a lack of diversity

calling for apologies and an end to “borrowing” cultures, specifically Black culture.

in its characters, with four of five love

With the increasing globalization of Asian music, fans are calling for artists to

interests being white. While the author

“educate themselves” and understand historical and racial backgrounds to culture

refused to allow filming of the movie

before indulging in it. The cultural appropriation runs the other way, with shirts

without an Asian female lead, she

and tattoos of words and phrases in Chinese and Japanese perpetuating in the

made no assertions on the identities

fashion industry. While the extent to which these two types of appropriation run

of the love interests. Perhaps the four

are not entirely clear, it is important to consider the consequences that cultural

love interests were not as important

appropriation can have on society, whether it be angry arguments over Twitter or

to the storyline, but this remains a

“bans” on certain products or even defamation of a popular icon.

controversial aspect of the movie.

Despite being in the limelight

for the majority of the summer, movies weren’t the only Asian influences on Western culture. With the emergence of K-Pop and Asian skincare methods, fashion in t he United St ates has also evolved. As stars such as BTS, Blackpink, and NCT 127 are releasing music in English and collaborating with American artists, the Korean music industr y has picked up on international fans. Known for distinct styles, icons in the K-Pop industry

illustration Ethan Ebesu

have influenced fashion, especially high-end brands. Such brands include Gucci, Balenciaga, and Burberry, but

Although it’s exciting when cultures come into contact, the connections

it is important to note that K-Pop has

between—and sometimes, a fusion of—two distinct lifestyles create controversy

been known to appropriate and imitate

as a byproduct. From major films, fashion trends, and globalized music, eastern

aspects of American hip-hop, a genre

influences are brought into a western world. It is important in this world linked

of music that also imitates high fashion.

by social media and technology that societies are connected with and aware of

This results in a circular movement

others. However, it is equally pertinent that as two contrasting societies meet,

of influence, which has only recently

caution is taken to ensure a world that knows no exclusion.

materialized with the worldwide integration of Korean music.

8

Collaborative Artwork

9

10

Ethan Ebesu & River Zhao

You Are What You Eat

would immigrate to America for work, but they would send money home and go back occasionally to see family. After the Chinese Exclusion Act, which

The restaurant felt as oily as the food. It wasn’t ex-

cracked down on Chinese immigration, there was a

actly clean, but I couldn’t really call it disgusting. It

decline in Chinese population in America because

just left you feeling a little dirty when you were done.

immigrants were forced to choose between going

I usually brought a book to read, often whatever the

back to China or leaving their family behind. Even-

latest young adult fiction craze was. I would bring

tually, the difference in gender ratios began to even

Percy Jackson or Katniss Everdeen or Harry Potter

out as Chinese people were forced to immigrate as a

with me so they could distract me from the ring-

family in America and settle down in order to stay

ing bells as customers went in and out of the door

here. Around this time, America began to get its first

and the constant sounds of frying food and yelling

taste of chop suey as newspapers were publishing

coming from the kitchen. My mom needed me to

recipes due to popular demand. The Chinese popu-

be babysat. Plus I came to like my aunt’s restaurant

lation began to open take out restaurants which was

more than my mom’s store, namely because my aunt

supported by the growth in Chinese families settling

and uncle fed me. I never ate anything but General

down in America. Chinese Americans and their take

Tso’s Chicken. I would then hear my aunt or uncle

out restaurants quickly became a prominent part of

yell into the kitchen: “Chuǒ-chōng giē!” Those were

American society.

the first words I learned in Fujianese, my family’s lo-

cal Chinese dialect.

ference between the two cultures was that Americans

Growing up in a family that owned several

couldn’t replicate the food accurately at the time, de-

Chinese take out restaurants, I became very familiar

spite all of the attempts. Chinese culture rarely had

with what it meant to be Chinese American. Chinese

cookbooks; everything was passed down through

take out has been such an essential part of the Chi-

family. If white people could not communicate with

nese population integrating into American society.

Chinese immigrants, then they had no access to their

But because Chinese food had to adapt to American

cooking secrets. Unlike most European languag-

tastes, the Chinese American identity had to adapt

es, Mandarin and Cantonese, the dialect spoken by

too. To be Chinese American was to be General

most people from the Southern part of China, name-

Tso’s Chicken: not quite Chinese, but also not really

ly Hong Kong and the Guangdong province, had

American.

very little common ground with English. Not only

Chinese people first started immigrating

is it very difficult to learn Chinese, because there is

around the 1820s, but there was not a large influx

no alphabet, but instead a system that is logosyllabic,

until after the Opium Wars when Britain forcefully

but back then, it wasn’t guaranteed that every im-

opened up the Chinese market. Before then, China

migrant could speak Mandarin as most came from

mostly kept to itself. Most immigrated to California

Southeastern provinces and spoke their own local

to work on the railroads. In Chinese culture, there

dialect instead. There are huge differences between

is a huge emphasis on family. But, Chinese families were not immigrating to America; Chinese men were. Men, the breadwinners in Chinese culture, 11

JOH N S ON L I N

One of the greatest benefits of the large dif-

Southeastern dialects and Mandarin so knowing one did not mean you understood the others. This helped maintain the exoticness of Chinese food since white people couldn’t start their own Chinese take out restaurants. The Chinese take out industry belonged solely to Chinese people and as more and more of the American population came to love Chinese food, there were more and more opportunities for the Chinese to settle down, make a living, and integrate into American society. Thus, Chinese food gave birth to the Chinese American identity.

Despite Chinese take out being so

adored by the American people, Chinese people are still discriminated against by the food we eat. Chinese people have been stereotyped to eat cats and dogs and other abnormal foods that are disgusting in the eyes of Americans. In middle school and elementary school, I had classmates who were legitimately concerned that I or my family was eating dogs or cats. There was always a huge sigh of relief when I reassured them that no, in fact, we did not eat dogs or cats. While Chinese people are certainly more open to eating “odd” foods, these sorts of dishes are rarely eaten outside of a few provinces. The stereotypes hold little truth in terms of Chinese in America.

Regardless,

Chinese

Americans

are scrutinized for having different cuisine.

Americans are comfortable with the Chinese American cuisine that has developed, but the idea of authentic Chinese food is way out of their comfort zone. I remember people giving me looks of disgust back in elementary school when I had mentioned eating squid or mussels, not particularly weird foods. My family was big on seafood because they lived in a village by the sea with a huge fish market. Once my friends convinced me that that was weird, I became less and less adventurous

with food. I started to question my parents on everything we ate. I was disgusted by the idea from eating pig tongue because that sounded even weirder. I only ever ordered General Tso’s Chicken. General Tso’s Chicken, arguably one of the most famous Chinese take out dishes, has its roots in the Hunan province.

The documentary, The Search for General Tso, explores the origin of American Chinese food with a focus on the dish, General Tso’s Chicken. The documentarists trace General Tso to Hunan. General Tso is another name for Zuo Zongtang, a famous general during the Qing Dynasty, who—surprisingly—was a real person. He was born in Hunan so there are a few things named after him, such as hotels or even foods. But there is no General Tso’s Chicken in Hunan. General Tso’s Chicken comes from a famous chef, Chef Peng Chang-kuei, who was also from Hunan.

He cooked for Chiang Kai Shek, the leader of the Kuomintang (KMT). So when the KMT lost the war to the Chinese Communist Party, they were driven to Taiwan. There, Chef Peng opened up his own restaurant and he created the dish General Tso’s Chicken. It gained a lot of popularity because there were a lot of veterans in Taiwan at the time, the Hunan inspired dish felt nostalgic, and Chef Peng was a household name at the time. Another chef was so inspired by the dish, he brought it over the United States.

But he changed the dish to suit an

American palate. Instead of the spicy Hunan cuisine the dish resembles, the Americanized General Tso’s Chicken is too sweet, its spicy origins buried underneath layers of sugar.

The traditional Chinese dish has lost its roots but it is still distinctly Chinese. Few Chinese locals have heard of General Tso’s Chicken.

But in America, General Tso’s Chicken is distinctly Chinese food. Chinese Americans are put in a similar dilemma. We are disconnected from our roots. We are always foreign. In America, we are Chinese, but in China, we are American.

12

Tracing back

the ASA footsteps ALEX KIM & JOSH KIM PHOTOS BY ALEX KIM

Night Market. Lunar New Year Dinner. Collaborasian Week. In an attempt to accommodate a constantly growing Asian and Asian American population on campus, the Asian Students’ Alliance (ASA) strives to create a welcoming affinity space for all Asianidentifying students through various cultural events. Although at least 20% of the current student population is comprised of Asians and Asian Americans, it has only been 45 years since Vassar had its first Asian American male graduate—Fritz Friedman ’74. With the help of Asian-identifying alumni and the archives compiled by past ASA leaders, this article explores the history of ASA and the alumni’s experiences as Asian/Asian Americans at Vassar.

13

Learning about the past and people are my two

identity organizations just for Asian-identifying students,

quirkiest passions. On a Monday night, Josh and I rolled

namely the Asian Students’ Alliance (ASA), Southeast

up our sleeves determinedly and dug into the ASA closet.

Asian Students’ Alliance (SEASA), South Asian Students’

Dusty scrapbooks from the 1990s. Hand-drawn posters

Alliance (SASA), Chinese Students’ Community (CSC),

for the cultural events in the 1980s. Old letters mailed

and SORI/Korean Students’ Association (KSA).

to other universities that hosted a conference for Asian/

Asian Americans. From the archives, we discovered that

I also contacted four Asian-identifying alumni, three of

the ASA was open to all students and was previously

them having served as Executive Board members of ASA.

named Association of Students Interested in Asia (ASIA).

Michelle Zhao ’16, President of ASA in 2014-2015, said

We haven’t found out when ASIA changed to ASA, but it

“the entire year being ASA president of an amazing EB

has been more than 20 years for sure, as Ken Wong ’00,

team” was very memorable because she not only learned

a former executive board member of ASA, referred to it

a lot from other members of ASA but also grew a lot as

as ASA instead of ASIA. One huge difference from the

a person. Michelle added “my time in ASA stuck with

past is that the members of current ASA mostly identify

me after graduating … ASA influenced me to constantly

as East Asians, whereas ASA had more diverse Asian

check myself and other people to make sure that I stay true

population in the past. Right now, Vassar has five separate

to my values.”

In addition to going over the archives, Josh and

14

15

Delia Hom ’00 and Ken Wong ’00 were both on the

and has been very active in the Asian American and Pacific

executive board from 1997 to 1999. Ken served as President

Islander (AAPI) community and events. Fritz said “back in

and Delia as the Vice President in 1998-1999. According

the day, the political issue of diversity and inclusion was not

to Ken, “ASA was focused on being both a political and

a hot topic… I think AAPIs were looked upon as almost-

social force on campus in the late 1990s. From a political

white, high-achievers and the perfect minority.” Despite the

standpoint, they spent a good amount of time trying to

lack of presence of Asian population at Vassar in the 1970s,

push for expanded Asian and Asian American academic

Fritz’s career was centered around his Asian American

lines, including lobbying for more tenure track positions,

identity: he co-founded the Coalition of Asian Pacifics

preserving need-blind Admissions and defending the

in Entertainment—CAPE—which is the oldest and most

justification for safe spaces.” As a social force, Delia shared

influential organization for AAPI executives and talent

that the Big/Little Sibling program is an important part of

in the entertainment industry, and he has been especially

community building. The Big/Little Sibling program is a

active in raising the profile of AAPIs in the political and

mentorship program that pairs an incoming freshman with

media space.

Asian-identifying upperclassmen. The main purpose of this

program is to help asian-identifying freshmen transition to

provided insights into the history and experiences of the

college for freshmen more smoothly. During the four years

Asian and Asian American community at Vassar College. It

they were at Vassar, new identity groups such as SASA and

is easy to get caught up in the things happening right now,

a small Korean American group started to emerge, and she

but taking some time off and looking back on our own past

felt that “ASA needed to step up on issues of explicit and

and roots allow us to appreciate what we have now. I feel

implicit racism on campus [and] raise awareness about the

extremely grateful for those who have fought for advocating

need for Asian American studies.” The student efforts to

Asian representation at Vassar and worked through all the

make Vassar offer Asian American Studies courses are still

hardships to build a strong Asian and Asian American

in the works; the Asian American Studies Working Group

community. Every person who has been a part of the Asian

meet regularly to work towards advocating for more Asian

and Asian American community at Vassar is therefore the

American Studies courses at Vassar.

history of ASA.

The responses from the alumni and the archives

The last alumni I reached out to was Fritz Friedman

’74, the first Asian American male graduate, the founder

* I express sincere gratitude to Fritz Friedman ’74, Kenneth

and the first president of the Asian Pacific Alumni of Vassar

Wong ’00, Delia Hom ’00, and Michelle Zhao ’16 for sharing

College (APAVC). Although ASA was not yet founded when

their experiences and being a part of the inaugural issue of

Fritz was a student at Vassar, Fritz majored in Asian Studies

the magazine.

16

a small gift for ASA OGs :p

17

interview

ALUMNI SPOTLIGHT featuring Frtiz Friedman’74 and Ken Wong’07 photo by DESIGNECOLOGIST on Unsplash

18

Fritz Friedman ‘74 Industry: Film, Media, Entertainment Where are you from? Tell us a little bit about your background.

I was born in Manila but raised in Boston, Massachusetts where I attended Boston College High School, a Jesuit private school for boys.

When did you graduate and what was your major at Vassar?

I was an Asian Studies Major and graduated in 1974—the first class of men who attended all four years. I was the first Asian American male to graduate from Vassar.

What is your current job?

I co-founded the Coalition of Asian Pacifics in Entertainment (CAPE) which is the oldest and most influential organization for Asian American Pacific Islander (AAPI) executives and talent in the entertainment industry. My company has worked with Sony Pictures Entertainment, where I was a senior executive at; Dean Devlin/Electric Entertainment; and Parrot Analytics. I have also associate produced several films including The State of Marriage and Kid Kulafu.

Additionally, I am very active in raising the profile of AAPIs in the political and media space.

Courtesy of Fritz Friedman

How did your undergraduate experience at Vassar help or hurt your career track?

Vassar provided a creative and nurturing environment which helped to expand and develop my interest in the arts, media and the humanities in general. With outstanding professors, an aesthetically pleasing campus and a stimulating and interesting student body, I was truly in my element.

How did your Asian/Asian American identity play out at work?

Being an Asian American was never a problem for me. I was always rather confident and felt I belonged anywhere. Vassar helped to reinforce that confidence because all my classmates were very supportive. Vassar has always been a unique place where differences among the students and colorful personalities were celebrated rather than suppressed. I remember the Vassar catalog I got when I was applying had the tag-line “Vassar College is not unique. But every Vassar student is.” And when I entered the entertainment industry, I flourished.

Almost everyone I knew said that the fact that I went to Vassar—which had been historically a women’s college—was so quirky that it made me interesting!

And God knows the entertainment industry loves unique personalities.

Any advice for current Vassar students?

Follow your passion and be careful from whom you take advice. There are a lot of people who will want to squelch your dreams because they think that that is what is best for you. But I always tell people to take a look at where their advice has led them. Never take advice from a loser. And surround yourself with smart, kind, ethical people who will support you and your dreams.

19

Kenneth Wong ‘07 Industry: Finance, Private Equity Where are you from? Tell us a little bit about your background.

I was born and raised in Queens, NY. I am a first-generation Chinese American. My parents immigrated to the US and I was born here.

What your major at Vassar? Graduating class?

I double majored Econ and Chinese. I graduated with honors and Phi Beta Kappa in 2007.

What is your current job?

I work in finance/private equity. After graduating in 2007, I took my first job as an investment banker with Bear Stearns. After experiencing firsthand the dramatic Bear Stearns sale to JP Morgan, I switched from investment banking to principal investing—first through making debt investments during the recession/debt crisis from 2008 - 2010 and then transitioning to private equity.

I currently work at Centre Lane Partners, LLC—a middle market private equity firm.

How did your undergraduate experience at Vassar help or hurt your career track?

I think Vassar played an integral role in helping me achieve my career goals.

First and foremost, if not for the advice of my major adviser, I would probably have continued down a pre-med track versus making the switch to Economics.

Secondly, Vassar has a very strong CDO/Career Advisory/Alumnae/i network with a lot of resources (books, interview prep, resume writing, mentorship, etc.) that I think everyone should take advantage of. Through the CDO, I was able to apply for my first paid internship and able to set up a several informational phone calls with recent alumnae to make sure I knew what I was talking about.

Lastly, there are a lot of intangibles that come from graduating with a Vassar degree/being a part of the Vassar community, which include but are not limited to: (i) being able to articulate your thoughts eloquently both orally and on paper, (ii) being able to work well in groups, and (iii) having an open mind and thinking outside the box. Academic rigor not withstanding, I think Vassar students benefit from being able to take a variety of interesting classes (vs mandatory courses, etc). At my first job, I met a lot of people who had only taken Accounting, Finance, or some derivative thereof and that did not always translate into being able to do the job well. However, it did make for onedimensional non-work related conversation.

Courtesy of Kenneth Wong

How did your Asian/Asian American identity play out at work?

I think finance has a greater representation of Asian/Asian Americans than other industries. Occasionally, speaking Chinese was helpful on some cross-border China transaction. Probably the only drawback from being Asian/ Asian American (for me) is that at work happy hours, everyone would know how many drinks I’ve had based on the intensity of my “Asian Glow.”

Any advice for current Vassar students?

Vassar makes an extreme effort to try and ensure that the VC community is diverse from a variety of perspectives. Definitely take the time to draw upon/ learn from the experiences of your classmates because everyone at VC is pretty cool/interesting.

20

Colorful, political, and pertinent, these Asian artists are the painters of the future

TAY L OR ST E WA RT

There’s a tendency to perceive fine art as immobile. When we think artist in the most traditional or

archetypal sense—a painter in a studio, perhaps, surrounded by brushes and tubes and half-filled canvases, working wildly or agonizing over an idea—we think of these nebulous visual principles like harmony (what the hell is harmony and how do you achieve it?), or the Western exercises through which fine artists are expected to learn them, or Western artists and movements. Raphael serves as the exemplar for depth, while Picasso reigns as king of Cubism, color, shape. Impressionism is synonymous with light and color theory and perception. Realistic landscapes and the Arcadian and Romantic traditions on canvas still resound in popular culture: the Bob Ross phenomenon would cease to exist if we didn’t have John Constable’s rural scenes so impressed in us, whether we know his name or not (Constable’s Hay Wain has inspired whole documentaries, endless reproductions, claims about universality in his depictions of rural England).

21

I’m sorry you had to read this last paragraph. Undoubtedly you rolled your eyes or yawned or snorted

at my tired artistic references. But now you understand my own weariness towards Eurocentrism, and, worse, the corresponding idea that there are standards to be met, that European works have set these standards.

Despite increasing internationalism in the art world, Western tastes continue to dominate media coverage of visual art, perceptions of art in pop culture, and the curricula of burgeoning creatives. Why do realism and charcoal studies, the brood of the Renaissance realist tradition, remain the image of fine art, or some kind of rite in becoming a fine artist? I don’t mean to devalue European works or professors at Parsons or the Royal Academy. The Hay Wain is really beautiful and perfect. I might have teared up at MoMA finally seeing Water Lilies in real life. The problem is by considering these pieces representative of all fine art, we don’t learn to consider fine art the newsworthy, political, entertaining, and diverse body of work it is and should be.

Hendra Gunawan, Yue Minjun, and N.S. Harsha are contemporary painters I believe illustrate

these characteristics. They are Asian, and their careers are considerably tied to their cultures; not only do they depict national landscapes both natural and political, but their styles also evoke the rich artistic traditions of their home country. The paintings, though pictorial, are so pretty and whimsical and demonstrate what’s best about fine art in the globalization age: they draw heavily from both their countries and the Western tradition, they aren’t scared to address contemporary political and economic issues. Some might even deem their works propaganda. I hope by just mentioning them I can help bring much-needed attention to not only Asian fine artists, but the idea of fine art as something dynamic, as change, just as they show change of style and culture and technology in their paintings.

22

"Ali Sadikin Pada Masa Perang Kemerdekaan," 1978, by Hendra Gunawan (Courtesy of Sotheby's Hong Kong via www.blouinartinfo.com)

Hendra Gunawan was born on June 11, 1918, in Bandung, Dutch East Indies. Sometimes it’s

disheartening to learn more about an artist’s life and person then look at their art because they end up being bad or dull and again we mull over the tired argument, should we separate art from the artist?, like it matters and their art is ruined. But Gunawan is a fascinating figure, his art paradoxical when considered in context of his life. It seems he drew inspiration from his subjugators. He joined the Bandung Group of Five, a kind of painting study group chaired by Affandi, in 1950. During the Japanese occupation of Indonesia, he taught painting and sculpture to younger students. He was incarcerated during a national anti-communist purge because he painted for the Institute for People’s Culture, affiliated with the Communist Party of Indonesia. He made Ali Sadikin Pada Masa Perang Kemerdekaan ("Ali Sadikin During the Independence Struggle") immediately after his release in 1978 because Sadikin, the famed former governor of Jakarta, supplied him with materials during his imprisonment. Ali Sadikin is a huge oil on canvas depicting the namesake figure straddling a Harley Davidson and surrounded by a group of guerrilla fighters. His wrist is loose, his colors varied (the fighters’ complexions range from bright orange to blue), the scene dreamy and confusing and brimming with little details like a glowing sword tassel, a stray dog.

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"Vegetable sellers," 1980, by Hendra Gunawan (via www.artnet.com)

Whereas here Hendra plays the political activist and grateful patronee, hell-bent against Dutch colonialism, the idyllic Vegetable Sellers is actually a callback to both German Expressionism painting, vibrant and chunky, and Indonesian aesthetics—line- and detail-heav y, oblique. It takes place against a lush Indonesian coastline. We see two women and two baskets of vegetables. The woman on the right holds an eggplant. Her toes are curled, multicolored like everything Hendra paints. In contrast to Ali Sadikin, which is Hendra as activist, Vegetable Sellers is peaceful, dreamy, and plush.

His work spans the political and the pastoral, European and Southeast Asian aesthetics, with deft.

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"Armed Forces," 2009, by Yue Minjun (via www.artnet.com)

The Cynical Realism movement of China has claimed Yue Minjun for its own, and this excites me

greatly because there is a whole movement supporting his disturbingly funny works. Cynical Realism originated in the 1980s and 1990s as a reaction to the Tiananmen Square protests and Socialist Realism, the only kind of painting approved by the government then. In fact, it doesn’t have a unifying aesthetic, but instead points out the disparity between the individual’s psyche and the system, how rapid urbanization and the echoes of the Communist regime butt heads with people’s wellness, through humor and satire and caricature. But Yue himself has rejected the label for a style more self-deprecating. His muse, in fact, is himself. Always he includes these mad grinning likenesses with pink rubbery complexion and too many teeth—a character that makes me smile because he reminds me of MAD Magazine but also runs a shiver down the spine. Yue’s grins are too wide not to be cynical. Armed Forces, from 2009, is a lithograph of three of these figures. They sport horns and red stars on their headgear, a jab at the People’s Liberation Army, and pose manic in front of a pretty blue sky and red curtain, a background that recalls the utopian Chinese art of the revolutionary era.

While it is easy to say Yue’s career relies on Chinese politics, he would never say so himself, and his work is not just a mockery of the regime but of humanity in the modern age. The grinning figure doesn’t just sport the Liberation Army star, but also a Batman mask, a fedora, a construction helmet, a mining helmet, a policeman’s cap—motifs of the modern worker and pop culture. Living in the modern age is laughable.

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I visited N.S. Harsha’s exhibition Charming Journey at

Mori Art Museum in Tokyo years ago, and his work still thrills me. Based in Mysore, India, he draws from Hindu culture and the geopolitical climate of his native India, which is globalizing rapidly. For example, his drawings are marked by the thin light lines, springtime colors, and two-dimensional, graphic quality of Indian miniature art. His figures resemble the stylized silhouettes of Mughal Empire paintings. At the same time, he tries to avoid staying in a Hindu “framework.” His work addresses global issues like environmental degradation and war, even universal issues—his Punarapi Jananam Punarapi Mananam (“Again Birth Again Death”) is a huge acrylic on tarpaulin of the cosmos, dotted meticulously with stars and planets and shaped like a snake. His influences are just as diverse, ranging from the Indian comics of his youth, Japanese comics and anime, and Hieronymous Bosch, famous for The Garden of Earthly Delights. Harsha said in an interview with The Japan Times, “The more you pin things down, the more the paint wants to flow around the pin. I wish none of my paintings will become just one thing—I feel they should be flying, having the liberty to speak to anyone and everyone differently….triggering all kinds of things inside them.”

Star of Mysore tabloid, by N.S. Harsha (Photo by Justin Egli, via www.tokyoartbeat.com)

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migrati stories TA M I K A W H I T E NA C K & E M M A C H U N PHOTOS BY ALEX KIM

featuring Rachel Kim ’20 Kelly Zhang ’21 Gabor Ptacek ’22 Sylvia Peng ’20 Johnson Lin ’21 Spencer McGrath ’21 Tammy Wang ’21 Emma Chun ’21

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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

Events

1815 First records of Chinese merchants

timeline

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

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 (even more 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 basically all 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

Rachel Kim (she/her) | South Korea

My dad moved to America from South Korea in his early-mid twenties. He came for more and better opportunities, believing that America was “the land of hope, the land of the rich.” My mom followed her parents to Brazil, where my grandpa had a fresh start to his carpentry business, but my grandparents wanted their children to have better lives, so they moved to America only five years later to follow the American dream. When I talked to my mom about challenges she faced as an immigrant, she said she struggled with language, both English and Korean. This language barrier prevented proper conversation with anyone, even her own family. She really felt the generation gap with her parents. I remember my uncle telling my aunt that “it’s difficult to talk with others” because “it sucks that [he’s] not perfectly fluent in either language.” My dad found being an active participant in America’s workforce to be the most difficult experience as an immigrant. He didn’t have an American education and came alone, and had to support himself by setting up his own shop, which eventually

failed severely. The language barrier and cultural differences were obviously there, which added to his difficulty of having any sort of income. He told me that his confidence dwindled every time he thought about his chances of surviving in America.

I’m well connected to my cultural heritage even though I was born and grew up in the United States. It was kind of impossible for me not to because my parents spoke Korean and cooked Korean food almost all the time. Korean humor, beauty, and lifestyle was embedded in me just by interacting with them. My family made sure I didn’t lose connection with my Korean culture: they made sure I learned the Korean alphabet as soon as I knew how to talk (I learned Korean first before I did English), and I still have the memory of my mom teaching me chopsticks for hours at the kitchen dinner table burned into my mind. I was very distant from my American identity during some of my childhood because of this.

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Kelly Zhang (she/her) | China

My parents immigrated in the early 90s from Fujian, China to Brooklyn because they sought better opportunities and a better future for their children. As immigrants, they did not know how to speak English and found it difficult to interact with non-Chinese-speaking people.

Neither of my parents completed high school, so their limited level of education was another barrier. My dad was a math teacher in China, but due to the language barrier he became a sushi chef after coming to the US. Similarly, my mom started working at a nail salon. My parents have worked hard and struggled to provide a comfortable life for my older sister, younger brother, and me.

My family celebrates several Chinese holidays by cooking and eating traditional dishes, and we go back to China every few years to visit family there. I was born in Brooklyn, brought to China at a few months old, and came back to the US at 6 years old. Though I did spend a portion of my childhood in China, after being in the US for many years and learning English, I became less and less fluent in my native tongue and unable to form fully Chinese sentences when communicating with my family.

I am now taking Chinese so that I can better communicate in my native tongue.

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My mom came to Ohio from Taiwan in the 1980s for her PhD at Ohio State. She’s told me that she faced two great challenges as an immigrant: one was learning English and facing discrimination for not being able to speak English completely fluently and without an accent, and the second was discrimination because of her name, race, and gender. This is especially present in her research work in the neuroscience field, where she continually struggles to receive funding or recognition for her work, and when I compare her experience to my white father; her identity as an Asian woman immigrant makes it much more difficult for her to receive recognition for the same type of work. She also has faced prejudice in the lab, for instance someone in her lab once told her to go back to where she came from.

Gabor Ptacek (he/him) | Taiwan

I was born in the United States and grew up in San Francisco, CA. I definitely felt like there was a connection to my broader Asian culture in the Bay Area; I was always surrounded by people who looked like my mom, but as I grew up I began to realize that I actually wasn’t fully represented.

The Cantonese population in San Francisco far outnumbers other regions of China or Taiwan, and I only really saw people who identified as Taiwanese or Taiwanese-American when visiting my mom’s family. This has made it hard to feel connected and I often talk to my mom about what it’s like being Taiwanese in America so that I don’t lose the weak connection I do have. We also go back to visit Taiwan roughly once every two years, and my mom will FaceTime her sister in Taiwan multiple times a week. Also, my mom has recently received recognition from her undergraduate university and got inducted into Taiwan’s Academia Sinica so will be visiting Taiwan much more.

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My brother and I were born in China (him—Jiangsu province, me—Guangdong and Hunan province, a countryside village to Changsha). My sibling and I were both given up due to China’s one-child policy, and we came to the US in the late 90s (technically 2000 for me). My dad is from Waterbury, Connecticut and my pa is from Buffalo, NY. My parents are both cis-gay men who wanted children and decided to adopt. I definitely rejected my heritage at a young age because I lived in a very white area where being Asian made me different in an uncomfortable way. Despite my parents’ best efforts to keep me and my brother connected to being Chinese, I rejected my heritage at a young age because I lived in a very white area where being Asian made me different in an uncomfortable way.

(they/he) | China

Spencer McGrath

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Tammy Wang (she/her) | Taiwan

My family migrated from Kaohsiung in southern Taiwan to Chinatown in Manhattan. We came in the 1990s and are the first generation to come to America. I believe that my identity integrates two types of cultures: individualism and collectivism. Growing up in the West, I am taught to be self-reliant and independent by American culture. If I didn’t have a sense of autonomy and depended on others, my actions would be considered shameful. As a result, I see myself separate from others, leading to my belief that building relationships with others isn’t absolutely necessary. My Taiwanese mother helped me reconstruct the way I think about myself and my relationship with the world. I was inspired to be like a constellation that creates meaningful connections in the celestial sphere by her calling every day when I was still in high school and asking me, “Mei mei, what do you want to eat for dinner tonight?”

To her, relationships were further solidified through eating a hot, home-cooked meal together; one of my favorite dishes she cooks is braised pork over rice with cilantro. During Lunar New Year, my family would eat shuizhu yu (tender filets of carp marinated, brined, and slipped into a bowl of hot spicy broth flavored with a thick layer of chili oil, dried chilies, and sichuan peppercorn) out at Sichuan restaurants. This annual get together holds a special place in my heart—not only am I able to have a numbed tongue from all the spicy dishes we order, I am able to create endearing autobiographical memories and connections with my family despite infrequent encounters. As an Asian American, I’ve learned how to embody collectivist culture while living in an individualistic environment.

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My family first immigrated to Vancouver, Canada from Taiwan. My parents actually did not want to move, but my dad got a very good job offer for the company he was working with. We moved to Long Island, NY shortly after moving to Canada, when I was about seven years old. While I definitely had some identity confusion growing up, I think I have always held on to my Taiwanese identity, even as I feel very American. I have a community in Taiwan with friends and extended family, which I think makes a big difference in feeling closer to my heritage.

Sylvia (Juo-Hsi) Peng (she/her) Taiwan

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I think my family had a lot more choice in coming to the United States because my parents are both college-educated. We did encounter a big challenge getting mortgage loans to buy a house since we didn’t have any credit because Taiwanese society doesn’t prioritize credit. The American System rewards people who borrow and spend, which is really different from Taiwan, so we didn’t really have anything to transfer. The only reason we were able to get the loan was because an Asian bank that was family friends helped us get a mortgage deal, and otherwise we would’ve ended up paying a lot more. I always tell my friends that something that defines my life is learning how to speak English, and even now that I’m fluent and comfortable speaking it, it’s still a big part of my identity, because it was a kind of lonely but rewarding process that I didn’t really expect to go through, so at times it was alienating.

(he/him) | China

Johnson Lin

My grandpa first arrived to New Jersey in 1981. My grandpa had a job offering (not a great one, just a busboy at a Charlie Brown’s) because his sister had already migrated here earlier. They figured America was a better opportunity than China so they made the decision to immigrate. My grandma and their children, including my parents, all came a few years later. My grandparents just thought that as a whole, adapting to an American lifestyle was really difficult. They didn’t speak much English and it was just an entirely different environment for them.

Growing up in the US, I definitely felt disconnected with my cultural heritage. My parents forced me to attend Chinese school for a few years and raised me with some traditional values, and we still celebrated Chinese holidays, but I never really identified as Chinese. I was consistently told I was American.

My cousins called me a banana or a twinkie because I was yellow on the outside and white on the inside. It wasn’t until high school that I started to make an effort to reconnect with my cultural heritage.

Fun fact: my grandma messed up my cousin’s birthday so he has three birthdays now: his real birthday, his Chinese birthday (aka on the lunar calendar), and his legal one that isn’t actually his birthday.

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In the early 20th century, my paternal grandfather’s father, along with his brother, got into trouble with the Korean army for some reason or another, and ended up immigrating to Hawaii, bringing with him his wife.

My grandfather and his siblings grew up low-income, working the sugar plantations and picking pineapple for less than a dollar a day, until he joined the army, went to Europe during World War II, and ended up not having to fight. He came back to Hawaii, where he met my grandmother, likewise a child of immigrants.

My grandmother’s father, born in Pyongyang, similarly came to Hawaii in the early 20th century shortly after the annexation of Korea by Japan, coming to join his own father, who had immigrated in search of better job opportunities. In Hawaii he met my great-grandmother Siberia, named for the boat that she was born on as her parents traveled to Hawaii, and they were married and had two children, my grandmother and her sister.

Emma Chun (she/her) | Korea

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I don’t know a whole lot about my family. I suppose that my dad’s family isn’t really the type to share a lot of family history, and it was only in high school when it was required of me for a school project that I started asking about it. As a third-generation American who grew up in Hawaii, I surprisingly have few points of connection to my Korean heritage. My father didn’t speak Korean growing up, which means that neither did I or my sister, and the only real connections we had were at the New Year, spending the day making mandoo with our grandparents and extended family. Growing up in Hawaii presents an interesting dilemma of identity, one that I’ve only really become cognizant of since leaving. Hawaii is majority Asian, and my friends were primarily Chinese and

Japanese, so as I attended school and started studying Chinese, I was increasingly surrounded by different aspects of those cultures rather than my own. I felt more “generic Asian” than I did “Korean”, and never questioned it. As I grew older I became more aware of my own vague definition of myself, and I wanted to be closer and know more about my culture; I started studying the Korean language, for example, even if I haven’t gotten very far. I also became more aware of the underlying racial dynamics and tensions that are present in modern Hawaii, such as remarks made by classmates with grandparents who still supported Japanese imperialism. One of the things that’s become more perplexing the more I think about it is how little we were educated about our own selves and our own

history; in high school we had a compulsory semester of Asian history that only discussed China and Japan, which now seems backwards and kind of pointless.

The differences between my life, comfortable and middle-class, and the lives of my migrant ancestors are stark. I am the culmination of the hard work and struggle of so many people, and I think it is powerful to hold that knowledge within me, and to know that just my very existence in this country is, in some ways, already a success.

The theme of this inaugural issue of Portrait is “the beginning.” Migration to the United States is the signal of the beginning of a new life for many Asian families, and for this reason we wanted to collect a series of migration stories to show our different beginnings.

The purpose of this project was to share a diverse set of stories reflecting the different journeys and experiences of Asian Americans. 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. The stories presented here begin to shed light on the diversity of Asian experiences, yet we acknowledge that Asian migration also includes many other regions and time periods 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 each individual of the collective Asian American community is special. Regardless of your story and identity, we hope that through reading these stories you may feel a stronger sense of connection to others and to yourself.

Migration Stories will be continued in the next issue of Portrait.

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In the warm and suffocating air of Davi’s MPR, we, a group of

freshmen going through orientation, crowd around. House team hands out sheets of tables full of blank spaces for us to fill out. Across the heading is a word box with terms like “white,” “able-bodied,” “Christian,” and “black,” “disabled,” and “Jewish.” We sit in silence, filling in small boxes with dried up highlighters. My friend leans over and whispers: “What does

HOVERING IN BETWEEN S A N DR A Y U

genderqueer mean?” The question is jarring. I grew up with terms like ableism, transphobia, and capitalism brought up in discussion casually, but her question reminds me that not everyone has had that same experience.

These orientation workshops set the conversation of Vassar terminology and culture, and for some people, these workshops will shape their impressions of race, politics, and sexuality for the rest of their Vassar career.

One voice breaks the silence: “where is Asian on this list? Are

they oppressed or privileged?” House team looks flustered, a couple murmurs, voices overlapping, nervousness hanging in the air. Our house fellow finally responds: “this list was only a sample of oppressors and oppressed. But Asian would be on the oppressed side, though Asians as a group have not been oppressed perhaps as much as Black Americans or Latinx Americans that are listed on the sheet.”

The division of oppressors and oppressed, summed up into a

small neat table, cannot possibly capture the tensions between racial groups or development of oppression. The concept of grouping racial groups into these neat divisions is especially relevant to the Asian diaspora, whose specific cultural groups has had such vastly different societal development over the course of American history. The construction of Asian-ness as a fusion of many different identities rather than highlighting distinct characteristics of each culture was a definitive choice. Claire Jean Kim in 1999 hints at this in her article: “The Racial Triangulation of Asian Americans.”

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The idea of racial triangulation, in which privilege is ranked and thus so is oppression; white people as most privileged, black people on the bottom, and in Kim’s article, with Asian Americans hovering in the middle ground.

The historical implications of hovering in between are not accidental.

Asians were once seen as lazy, docile, and irresponsible, traits that were often also attributed to Black Americans. The transformation of Asian status in society came when the Citizens Committee To Repeal Chinese Exclusion Act recognized the fear of “yellow coolies” was dangerous in the tumultuous times of World War II. And thus, Chinese Americans were recast as “law-abiding, peace-loving, courteous people living quietly among us.” The reconstruction of the Asian American image in the public’s eye was highly intentional: it was a way to bring Asians up and other minorities down – an ideological scapegoat.

Therefore, it’s strange to be called oppressed. My idea of oppres-

sion is being shot for making a harmless motion in the presence of law enforcement, and as an East Asian American, I have never experienced fear of any law enforcement or felt my culture criminalized systemically.

Perhaps I would have experienced that 100 years ago with the Chinese Exclusion Act when San Francisco city government officials characterized Chinatown as “a constant menace to society” and “a slumbering pest.”

Now, Asian Americans are the highest-income, best-educated, and fastest-growing racial group in the United States. It’s easy to look at statistics and think about how I’ve experienced the world as an Asian American and conclude Asian American indeed belongs in the middle ground. However, statistics do not speak for all; in many cases, the difference between class-privileged Asians and many other Asians comes down to the time at which they immigrated and the situations from which they immigrated. In many conversations, that nuance in socioeconomic status and background is never considered; instead, Asians are painted to be one overachieving, well-adjusted monolith. To regard Asian American as simply hovering in the middle ground between oppressor and oppressed, fighting to become “honorary whites,” would be to ignore the diverse experiences and relationships between other minorities that represent the Asian collective experience.

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Want to take a peek into more personal stories?

Finish your read with Journals

provided in three languages (Japanese, Korean, and English translations)

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journals:

theme_ beginning

Elena Furuhashi Ji Won Kim

photo Alex Kim

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古橋 エレーナ 今日、 おばあちゃんに会いにいった。 私と弟が先週のようにケアハウスのダイニングに迎えにいくと、 目をパッと輝(か がや)かせて、頬(ほお)の横で手を振(ふ)ってきた。 わたしたちが誰だか分かっているか定(さだ)かではない。少なくと も名前は分からないし、関係性(かんけいせい)もあやふやになっている。 それでも、 おばあちゃんにとっては嬉(うれ) しい 「始め」 らしい。私たちは、 おばあちゃんを真ん中にして面会室(めんかいしつ)まで一緒(いっしょ)に歩いて行く。 おばあちゃんの手は乾(かわ)いて鰹節(かつおぶし)みたいにパサパサしていて、 でも私の何倍も暖(あたた)かかった。 「あら、手え冷(つめ)たいわねえ」 と心配(しんぱい)してくるおばあちゃんは、 とてもかわいい人だ。面会室(めんかいし つ)に着くと、 おばあちゃんにとって 「始め」 のオンパレードが待(ま)っている。改(あらた)めて私たちを上から下までな がめながら、 「まあ、大きくなったわねえ」 と嬉(うれ)しそうにする。 これが、 いつもの始まりだった。大人という生き物は どうやらそう言うことがとても好きみたいだ。 それから、 「ちょっと、 どっちが高いか、背比(せいくら)べしないと」 と提案 (ていあん)してくる。 どう見ても弟の方が十センチ以上高いけど、 もちろんそんなことは言わないで、 うんうんと相槌(あ いづち)を打つ。弟が壁(かべ)の細い鏡(かがみ)に、 おばあちゃんと背中(せなか)合わせになって立つ。 「あらあ、 負け ちゃった。 おばあちゃん、 もっとがんばらなきゃねえ」 と彼女はくすくす笑う。 自分の歳(とし)も、 もう何百回と聞いた、 た いして面白くもない父の冗談(じょうだん)にも素直(すなお)に驚(おどろ)き喜(よろこ)ぶ。不思議(ふしぎ)なことに、昔 のクラッカーのコマーシャルの歌詞(かし)だけはいつも覚えている。 「始まり」 には色々な種類(しゅるい)があるけれど、私は瞬間的(しゅんかんてき)に感じる 「始まり」 の感覚(かんかく) が好きだ。一瞬(いっしゅん)の 「始まり」 は、何の予兆(よちょう)もなくやってくる。私の 「始まり」 は、 きゅうりのばりりん という音と夏の砂埃(すなぼこり)と鳥肌(とりはだ)と一緒(いっしょ)に急にやってくる。 とても威勢(いせい)がいい。 だ けど少し心細くもある。肺(はい)にあさりでも詰(つ)まってしまったんではないか思ってしまう。 「始まり」 の感覚は、新学期(しんがっき)に最初に教室に足を踏(ふ)み入れたときの感覚(かんかく)と似(に)ている。 窓(まど)から差し込む夏の日差(ひざ)しが白いブラウスを反射(はんしゃ)して、 目が慣(な)れるのに時間がかかる。 前 髪(まえがみ)を作って新しい雰囲気(ふんいき)を漂(ただよ)わせている友達を目にする。表情(ひょうじょう)が、別人( べつじん)のようにぴんと張(は)っていて、初々(ういうい)しい。 とても新鮮(しんせん)ですてきに思えるのに、 同時(どう じ)に、 ぎごちなさも間違いなく天井(てんじょう)近くで漂(ただよ)っている。 それはいくら言葉にしても伝わらない空白 (くうはく)の塊(かたまり)であって、 でも少しすればどろどろになって消えてしまう。 始めから何もなかったように。 そうい うものだけど、 それはその時の自分には分からない。 「始まり」 は色々な形でやってくる。鼻歌(はなうた)を歌いながら待っていればひょっこりやってくるのもあるし、努力 して行動しないと姿(すがた)を現(あらわ)してくれない 「始まり」 もある。 そうそう、行動を変えようとするより、考え方を 柔軟(じゅうなん)にして自分らしく行動するといいと最近教えてもらった。 自(みずか)ら追うことで得られる 「始まり」 が あるなら、 いくら苦痛(くつう)を伴(ともな)っても、私はそうしたい。 ただただ、 その 「始まり」 を肌(はだ)で感じる瞬間(し ゅんかん)を増(ふ)やしたい。 そうすればきっと、 おばあちゃんのようにきらきらした目をしていられる。

photo Evie Shaffer on Unsplash

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Elena Furuhashi Today, I went to see my grandma. When my brother and I enter the common room of the care house she lives in, just like last week, her face lights up and she waves her hand by her cheek. No one is sure how much she knows: at least not our names, perhaps not even how we are related. Still, she welcomes us as a pleasant beginning.

We walk alongside her to the visiting room. Her hands are dry like shredded fish flakes, yet several times warmer than mine. “Oh, your hands are so cold!” she remarks, and I just think of how sweet my grandmother is. A series of beginnings are awaiting her. When we arrive in the visiting room, she turns and examines us from top to bottom. “You’ve grown so much!” This is how it usually starts. I have learned by now that most adults like to say that. “We have to see who is taller,” she says enthusiastically to my brother. Although it is apparent that my brother is at least 10 centimeters taller, we smile and nod at her. My brother stands by the thin mirror on the wall, back to back with my grandmother. “Oh my, you beat me. I guess I have to try harder!” my grandma chuckles. She cannot remember the jokes my dad has told her hundreds of times or even how old she is, but hearing these things still delightfully surprises her each time. She can, however, still completely recite the words to an old cracker commercial.

There are many types of “beginnings,” but I especially enjoy the feelings that come and go in the blink of an eye. They can be so sudden. My beginnings come with the sound of the bite of a crisp cucumber, with the cloud of dust in the summer and a few goosebumps. It is brisk, but also unsettling. It feels like a clam is clogging my lungs.

The sensation of a beginning is like stepping in the classroom on the first day of a new semester. The summer sun from the window reflects off white blouses and it takes a while for my eyes to adjust. I spot friends that have cut their hair or have grown bangs, creating an unfamiliar atmosphere. Their expressions are pulled up tight and they seem like a different person. It is so refreshing and wonderful, yet the awkwardness is unmistakably there, floating near the ceiling. That block of blankness is impossible to make into words, however hard we try. It will eventually melt away like there was nothing there in the beginning. But I did not know this at the time. I would only understand later on.

Beginnings come in all sorts of shapes. Sometimes you are lucky enough for them to come along as an act of providence; sometimes they do not show unless you actively seek them out. It is not as simple as trying to change your action though; someone told me that acting your way into a new way of thinking could do the trick. If there are such beginnings that require chasing, I will do it however painful it is. I want to have the most beginnings I can. That is when I can be like my grandma, with her sparkling eyes.

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김지원 에세이를 쓸 때 서론을 쓰는데 한두시간을 허비하는 건 내가 너무나 흔히 있는 일이다.

우리가 글을 쓸 때 첫 문장은 훅(hook) 이라고 많이 애기하는데, 글을 읽는 사람의 시선을 사로잡아야 한다는 부담 때문인가 내 첫 문장은 늘 어렵다.

한국은 특유의 나이 시스템이 있다.

전세계 대부분의 나라가 생일을 기준으로 한 살을 더 먹을 때, 한국은 한 해의 시작을 기준으로 나이가 바뀐다.

예를 들면, 1월 1일날 한 해의 시작과 함께 우리 또한 다같이 한 살을 더 먹는거다. 그래서 그런지 시작이라는 개념의 무게가 두 배로 무거워 지는 거 같다. 이 글의 완벽한 첫 문장을 위해 책상 앞에 앉아 보낸 긴 고민의 시간은

일 년 일 년 지나가며 모든 시작의 순간 앞에서 자꾸만 망설이게 되는 나를 닮았다. 시작이 설렘을 뜻하던 때가 있었다.

모든 일의 시작은 내게 새로운 세계였고 발견이였어서 시작은 내게 놀라움을 안겨주었다.

새로운 세계에 발을 들이는 거 만큼 짜릿한 게 없었으니까. 그 때를 자꾸 돌아보게 된다.

이제는 시작이라는 첫 걸음의 무게를 조금 줄이려 한다. 더 이상 시작이 내게 설렘만을 뜻하진 않지만,

여전히 날이 갈수록 시작이 두려워지는 나지만, 그럼에도 불구하고 나는 그냥 시작하기로 했다.

photo Alex Kim

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Ji Won Kim Spending hours merely to write up an introduction of any writing is a very common thing for me.

we often call the first sentence a “hook�

Perhaps, it is because of such a pressure that I feel that writing the first sentence is always a struggle.

Korea has its own age system.

While most people in the world gain a year every birthday,

Koreans gain a year on the first day at the turn of a new year On January 1st, with the beginning of another new year,

we all become another year old—no matter our varying birthdates Maybe that is why the burden of each beginning doubles.

Long hours spent in front of the desk to write the perfect first sentence of this writing resemble the moments of prolonged hesitation as I face a new beginning every year.

There once was a time when I felt a thrill with new beginnings.

Every beginning was a new world and discovery.

Every beginning filled me with fascination.

Nothing was more thrilling than stepping into the new world.

I seem to constantly look back on those days.

I hope to reduce the weight of each beginning.

Although the beginning no longer only signifies pure excitement, and although beginnings become scarier day by day, I have decided to just begin.

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photo Am Chunnananda

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Portrait would not exist without you. sending love, Portrait Staff

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P O R T R A I T

ISSUE 1

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