Superheroes. We admire their extraordinary strengths, victories, failures, and struggles. When it comes time to doing battle there’s no holding back, and they will unleash their powers with brutal force! As an Asian woman, I’ve looked up to superheroes over the years: Wonder Woman, She-ra, Supergirl. I loved Wonder Woman’s invisible jet and her magic lasso, She-ra had that magical sword, and Supergirl could fly! But even with these fond memories of grandeur, it didn’t occur to me until later in life when I’d had a few more struggles, that none of those superheroes looked like me. Sure, they were cool, battling evil with their magical weapons and powers, but where were the female Asian superheroes to look up to? (besides Hello Kitty, obviously! LOL) As I’ve grown older, I’ve noticed that girls (and women), will hide how smart they are because they don’t want to stand out. If you were too determined or aggressive, you were labeled “difficult.” It’s long been a joke among friends about being a “determinasian,” but more recently I’ve been thinking on this more; why was this such a bad thing? Why can’t we be free to reach for the stars without criticism? More importantly, why do we not have any superheroes to model ourselves after. I thought about this some more and came up with a list of personality traits I admired in my successful Asian female friends: determination, concentration, motivation, and education. From there, I started formulating what I wanted these characters to look like. I had recently gotten some colored streaks in my hair and really liked the extra boldness it gave me (one less fear of doing something out of the “norm!”), so I decided the characters would all have a color streak in their hair! I wanted them to be a “regular” size, not too thin, not too busty. And, of course, they had to have awesome outfits! I started asking my graphic design friends who they would recommend to illustrate the characters. I only wanted someone who was female or Asian (or both). One of my friends in NYC suggested someone she worked with at Sesame Street—Evan Cheng. I reached out to him, and after a few conversations, I knew he was the real deal. He came up with some initial sketches, and as we went back and forth, the characters for The Cre8sian Project (Determin8sian, Concentr8sian, Motiv8sian, and Educ8sian) were born! The next step in the process was to find a way to have these newly created superheroes make a difference in the world. As a big believer in arts education and community service, I started reaching out to Asian-focused arts organizations. I decided to have a portion of the sales from The Cre8sian Project go towards the P.E.A.C. Program at East West Players (EWP) in Los Angeles and set up a scholarship for a student of Asian heritage with Positively Arts in Las Vegas! P.E.A.C. (Partners in Education and Arts Collaboration) is a residency program that brings EWP programming to local schools, especially those without other arts education funding. Positively Arts uses the arts to empower, inspire, educate and heal and offers a variety of programs like Broadway Dreamers, Arts in Action, and Get Launched to give students instruction, performance, positive leadership, and mentorship opportunities throughout the year, no matter their financial status. Supporting Asians in the arts starts at the local level, and that was exactly what I intended to do! My next and final step was to set up my blog, Amazing Asians in the Arts, which features Asian women in all aspects of the arts industry: performers, writers, directors, artists, tech designers, musicians, and more! Each Saturday, I publish a new post featuring a new Asian female in the arts! Past features have included Satomi Hofmann (actress—Phantom of the Opera Broadway), Jennifer Betit-Yen (Asian American Film Lab), Marina Kondo (actress—Frozen National Tour), and Maxine Gutierrez (Audio Engineer—Dear Evan Hansen Broadway)! With the shutdown happening just as I was ready to launch my website, this blog was a much needed lifeline for me to not only stay connected to the outside world, but to also meet other Asians in the theater industry and be able to share their careers, accomplishments, and volunteer work with the world! The Cre8sian Project is also a proud sponsor of the Outstanding Female Content Creator Award for The 72 Hour Film Shootout, put on by the Asian American Film Lab! I hope these newest superheroes resonate with you, and you wear your “superpowers” proudly! Because, after all, WE are the artists, the dreamers, the cre8tors! Angela Chan is a musician, composer, and lyricist living in Las Vegas. She has performed on national tours all over North America (“Cats,” “Phantom of the Opera,” “Sound of Music”), as well as Broadway shows on the Las Vegas Strip (“Phantom: The Las Vegas Spectacular,” Disney’s “The Lion King,” “Jersey Boys,” “Mamma Mia”), Cirque du Soleil’s “KA,” The Las Vegas Philharmonic, and is currently the Asst. Bandleader/Keyboard 1 at “Le Reve the Dream” at Wynn Las Vegas! Angela is also an active volunteer for Positively Arts, a local performing arts non profit, a notary public, wedding officiant, and T-rex enthusiast! www.AngelaChanMusic.com

In a time when racism is at the center of many conversations and there is a rise in Asian awareness, this film addresses the human struggle of how one’s identity is questioned and challenged in response to the subtle discriminatory words or actions of others that we now know as microaggressions. Synopsis: In Paris, a difficult choice has to be made when a Chinese tourist who desperately needs the toilet barges into a vintage book store, with a French-born Chinese book shop assistant stuck between doing the right thing, or getting into trouble with her boss. This short nine-minute drama film is expected to be released at the end of 2020, in French, with English and Mandarin subtitles. You can keep up with the latest by following @welookthesamefilm on Instagram

May 31, DTLA (Downtown Los Angeles): Black Lives Matter protestors make their voices heard on the steps of City Hall in L.A. June 5, DTLA: 13th day of protesting in L.A., on the steps of City Hall. June 5, DTLA: protesters made their way from City Hall to Police Headquarters in L.A., carrying a hand painted mural of Breonna Taylor. June 5, Boyle Heights: protesters against ICE meet in Boyle Heights to march to City Hall, led by traditional dancers and drummers of Mexico. May 31, DTLA: protesters marching from Pershing Square to City Hall were met with military and law enforcement. Sharon is a Korean adoptee who currently resides in L.A. Sharon has been shooting professionally since 2010. Most of her work is shot on film and focuses on the female form. You can read more about her and listen to interviews on her website and Instagram. Photo credit: Sharon Jung

Asians in Britain (AIB) is a platform that I created back in March 2018. Having lived in the U.K. for the past 10+ years, I have observed how Asians in the U.K. are seen as a homogenised group of people despite our diverse cultural backgrounds, religions, languages, and food, etc. People also tend to look down on Asians or make assumptions about us based on how we look. When I was in Bristol for high school, I remember people, especially teachers, used to make passing comments like: “No offence, but English is not your first language, so you might find English literature a very challenging subject” or “No offence, this is too well-written, are you sure you wrote this?” On top of that, I’ve also realised there’s not only a lack of Asian representation on screen or in the media, but also a lack of platforms for Asians to share ideas. This was why I felt the need to create some sort of space for Asians to share their stories and experiences in hopes to amplify Asian voices while also empowering and inspiring younger generations. Interviewing so many different talented, inspiring, and hardworking Asians, who are not only successful in the financial or science fields, but also in the creative industry, was eye-opening to me. I also have to thank my amazing team whom I met along the way that has made AIB what it is today. To make this a little more interactive, below is what my team has to say! I promise I didn’t bribe them! Teresa Fan: “Asians in Britain is a place that is very close to my heart. First of all, it’s about aspirations and breaking out of the mould. It’s a place to have your own story laid out, and told how it is. Asian people are often seen as quiet and less vocal; I wanted to be part of something which breaks those stereotypes. When I first met Steph, I was being interviewed and we had a mutual friend who suggested we hit each other up. Next thing you know, fast forward a year later, I was growing with my photography and I wanted to give back to something which gave me a lot of warmth and encouragement. My aspirations for 2020 is to keep doing what we’re doing, develop quality content, and see the fruits of our labour. I’d love to organise a fundraiser or an event involving Asians in Britain! That would be the dream. One word to describe AIB is community.” Sanil Patel: “Asians in Britain provides a platform for people to share their stories of success and struggles. It’s a community for people to be open and positively engage with others. For me, it’s important to have diversity and create a strong community for people to find inspiration, courage, and comfort. I joined Asians in Britain because I think I am able to help this community grow and give people a chance to share their stories. It’s important for people to have a place where they can share their experiences and thrive in a community with similar backgrounds.” Krishna Balasubramanian: “I joined AIB because the mission of creating a network to support Asians and enable their smooth transition into the cultural and social constructs of the new place they immigrate to, resonates with me. To me, Asians in Britain celebrates a sense of belonging to the Asian community and a platform where inspiring stories, culture, and positive assimilation are shared. My aspirations in 2020 for Asians in Britain is to push for more diverse stories. To help grow a safe community that touches on different types of success and struggles which in-turn will help people to engage with each other.” Stephanie Lam: “I joined AIB because I love the idea of being able to share stories of people from different backgrounds in the British-Asian community. There’s often the misconception that Asian culture is very rigid and it’s time for that to change. The careers that are considered respectable shouldn’t be confined to only: doctors, lawyers, and bankers. We want to showcase how diverse the British-Asian community really is and how future generations could make use of their talents in many different types of careers. Asians in Britain means so much to me. I’ve been able to network with so many types of people with different passions and have this platform showcase and share what they have to say. A lot of people out there can relate to the hardships that we go through as Asians in Britain. I hope to invite even more people to be a part of this community!” Since starting Asians in Britain, quite a few people have asked me how I envision AIB in the future. Other than wanting to create a platform to uplift Asian voices, I have always wanted to create a mentorship programme where I would be able to use the network we have built to help youths in building their careers and inspiring them to pursue their dreams. We have now also launched our very own podcast called High Expectations (sorry! shameless plug) where we explore certain topics on a deeper level. Especially in light of COVID-19 racism and the Black Lives Matter movement, we believe that now more than ever is the time to speak up and ensure that our voices are not silenced. You can read wonderful stories here: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/asiansinbritain Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/asiansinbritain If you would like to listen to our podcast, you can check out: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/highexpectasianspodcast Anchor: https://anchor.fm/asiansinbritain

The Korean American Adoptee Adoptive Family Network (KAAN), is a non-profit organization founded in 1998 to build a national Korean adoption community with adoptees at its center. Through the work of its volunteers, KAAN aims to improve the lives of Korean-born adoptees by connecting the community and providing opportunities for dialogue, education, and support. Mission Statement: To  enrich the lives of Korean-born adoptees and transracial adoptees, and their families, by connecting the community through dialogue, education, and support. Vision Statement: We envision an adoption community that is empowered, connected, vibrant, inclusive, and equitable. Community Values: We create a welcoming environment that brings people together from across the adoption community, valuing diverse perspectives while cultivating respect and healthy boundaries. This includes, but is not limited to people from the Korean-American community, adoptees, adoptive family members, biological family members, and those who work within the adoption industry. We believe this synergy deepens our insights and builds mutually transformative, dignifying relationships, many that last long after the conference. Current Activities: Community Conversations: October 14, 2020 @8pm ET: Parenting as an Adoptee (adoptees only) November 11, 2020 @ 8pm ET: Adoptive Families, Holidays, and Big Emotions (adoptive parents) December 9, 2020 @ 8pm ET: Taking Care of Ourselves During the Holidays (adoptess only) Virtual Happy Hours: Oct 8, 2020 @ 8pm ET November 12, 2020 @ 9pm ET December 10, 2020 @ 5pm ET Current call for proposals for KAAN 2021 Conference: From Dialogue to Action: Identity and Intersections in Our Community Connect with KAAN: For more information, visit their website. Or check their social media: Facebook, Linktree, Instagram

It goes without saying that 2020 was a challenging year for many as we coped with isolation, forced social distancing from family and friends, loss of employment, and more. Although social media images might have suggested that we should do and be more, it is important that we learn how to give ourselves permission to focus on self care. Adjusting to the “new norm” further requires that we learn how to grieve for the life that we used to have. Through it all, in the end, we may find a craving for authenticity in ourselves and a redefinition of who we want to be in this new world. Mental health challenges have nothing to do with being lazy or weak. Many people need help in this area, but it is often not talked about openly. Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the United States. It accounted for the loss of more than 41,000 American lives in 2020—more than double the number of lives lost to homicide. The @theuniversalasian will be hosting a 5-part series on "#MentalHealthTalk With TUA" to help our Universal Asian community start the new year with a great mental spirit to make 2021 a year of healing and growth as we come out of the pandemic bubble. Meet the three coaches:

In starting the online platform/magazine, The Universal Asian, I was determined to create a safe space for others like me to turn to when wanting to know more about what was possible in our community. The main story I tell others is the story of growing up as an adoptee in a predominantly white farming community. Despite my family’s best attempts at using love and humor to make me feel like them, I struggled. Multiple issues aside, the common desire as a teen was just to fit in. This left me flipping through magazines like Sassy trying to find an example of someone who looked like me with everyday make-up, hair styles, fashion, and jobs. In the '80s and early '90s, it was rare to see even a Black teen in a non-target publication let alone an Asian face. With the onslaught of social media, it has definitely become easier these days as my 40-plus-year-old self watches 20-somethings show me how to do my eye make-up in a classy, subtle way rather than a wild, exotic, “different” way. Still, from what I have found, these influencers are scattered lacking a larger presence in the community that their shares would likely benefit. When I considered our target audience, I knew I wanted to address adoptees from Asian countries, but felt it important to expand out to those who may identify as Asian, yet grew up outside of a typical Asian culture. These people are more easily labeled (not boxed in!) as #hyphenatedAsians in being Asian-American or British-Asian, etc. While this is not meant to limit how they identify themselves, it is one that can be more easily understood in the mainstream when using the hashtag #hyphenatedAsians. In developing that tag for those who related to it in our Universal Asian community, it was a smooth acceptance to include those from around the world. As more stories are shared, the overlap in the experiences of growing up in a world that does not fully represent the one of our heritage or traditions of our lineages becomes abundantly clear. So, targeting this part of the Asian universe posed little challenge as long as we can tap into their willingness to share experiences with our readers to potentially connect with those who also relate. On the other hand, due to the very nature of adoption, targeting adoptees from Asian countries and describing them in the most apt way became more complicated. “Transracial” didn’t work for me, as it suggests one is of different races, but we are still “Asian” racially. “Intercultural” didn’t suit because many adoptees have no connection to their native culture. So, as someone who treats words neutrally until clarification can be had through conversations, I started to consider literal wording to apply to international adoptees. By choosing a term that can have strong interpretations, the opportunity for a dialog can be created. By choosing a literal term, a conversation to balance out understanding can be had, which reflects the mission laid out for the platform I wanted to create. So, #importedAsians came to represent the adoptee population. Neutrally speaking, a child from another country is paid for, whether it’s for the services surrounding the crossing of international borders, or paperwork completed for the child to enter a new country. When that child then remains in the new country, the “transaction” is complete. If you did not know that this process refers to a person, you would understand that it is a product of some sort that is being imported to another country. If we remove the emotional or human element, the adoption of a child from one country to another is similar to the importation of a product. In the true spirit of journalism, I remain neutral in how I use this hashtag to refer to our adoptee population. While I understand that not all within our community, nor those outside of it, might be able to maintain an emotionally neutral perspective, it is my hope that we can have a conversation around it, at the very least. So far, not many have taken issue. However, for those who have, the unfortunate thing is that they have been unwilling to present their perspective or participate in a dialog. Instead, they perpetuate an unnecessary and unintended interpretation of a term that they are unwittingly accepting as a negative label of who they/we are despite their protests as otherwise. Words only have the power that we allow them to have when we use them and when we fail to converse on their mutual understandings. Our application and interpretation are always open to negotiation—that is the beauty of language and words—but it requires discussion to come to a common understanding. Even if we agree to disagree, at least we took the time to respectfully hear each other out and challenge our differing stances. This platform/magazine is meant to be an open and safe space for everyone to strip off the labels, and to have the freedom to explain why some labels might not fit who they are. Rather than continue to limit our Universal Asian community, which is done on a regular basis outside of the community, it is my hope that this be a space where we can respectfully share, uplift, and inspire each other and those around us to hear us, see us, and know us.

A re-imagining of "Romeo and Juliet" taking place in 1926 Shanghai, two gangs are at war. Juliette is a member of the Scarlet Gang. Her first love, Roma, now oversees the White Flowers. When an unknown contagion rears its head in both gangs, Juliette and Roma must come together to stop the deaths or else the entire city will end in ruins. Wow! I was unsure about a Romeo and Juliet retelling, but this was fantastic. Despite this being a retelling, Gong added original spins to "Romeo and Juliet" that made it an entirely new story. The sci-fi twists were welcomed and kept me intrigued the entire time. Along with the sci-fi spin, the book takes place in Shanghai and features Chinese and Russian characters. The rival gangs each have their own cultural customs and traditions, and I appreciated the representation shown. It didn’t feel forced and helped me connect to "Romeo and Juliet" in ways that I couldn’t before. There was not as much romance as in the original story, and I preferred this. I appreciated how the characters were older and more mature. While there was some romantic tension between Juliette and Roma, there was more emphasis on them coming together as allies to save their home. There was more to them than just being star-crossed lovers. Juliette definitely had a lot more depth and I loved her independent nature. She was spunky and fierce. I rooted for her the entire time and could see many readers relating to her character. There was more gore and violence than I expected, but I didn’t find it to be an issue. If you are wary about violence, this might not be the book for you, but I recommend trying it out anyway. The ending was a bit ambiguous, but we can expect a sequel and I truly hope it comes soon!

What are you willing to do for love? Roma is stunned by Marshall’s death, and he is out for revenge. Juliette will not spill any secrets in order to protect the people she cares about most. A new monster now threatens the city and Roma and Juliette must again team up to try and save Shanghai. I had really enjoyed Chloe Gong’s retelling of Romeo and Juliet in "These Violent Delights" and was very excited to see how she would continue their story in "Our Violent Ends." This book did not disappoint. I actually enjoyed it more than the first because the characters were well-established and we could jump right into the drama and action. I didn’t pick this up immediately after finishing its predecessor, but as I reflected on both, I found "Our Violent Ends" to have more adventure throughout. This was a fast-paced book that kept me turning the pages. There was a lot to follow, and I did have to re-read some parts to take mental notes of everything going on ensuring I didn’t get lost in the story. I went into "Our Violent Ends" reminding myself that I think this duology is more sci-fi than fantasy. Knowing that made it more enjoyable. Even with monsters and traitors, I was more invested in Roma and Juliette and how they would end up saving Shanghai. The sci-fi elements added suspense and a common enemy, but it wasn’t my main focus for this book. While Roma and Juliette are still fiercely independent characters, we finally get to have some romance! I was wondering how their relationship would develop since this was such a unique and creative retelling. I was pleasantly surprised with their relationship development and felt there was enough tension and build-up to make their love story satisfactory. Like with "Our Violent Delights," I was very impressed with this book. As an extension of a retelling, I had no expectations for where the story would go. I loved how Gong remained true to the Romeo and Juliet plot while making the characters more complex and relatable. Overall, this was a fantastic end to a thrilling story. It offered representation in classical literature that I hadn’t had before and showed how with a little imagination, characters could have many more layers of depth to them than previously written.

The Universal Asian had the privilege of speaking with Rick Kiesewetter, a Japanese American adoptee now living and working in the U.K. as a stand-up comic and actor. You can connect with Rick on Instagram and follow him on Twitter or checkout his Facebook. Rick Kiesewetter was born in Okayama, Japan as Tokihiko Kawate and adopted when he was 3 in 1967 by a U.S. military family stationed there. At the age of 5, the family moved back stateside, where Kiesewetter eventually grew up in a small town near New Jersey during the '70s. He comments on how the times were different, “I was one of few Asians, if not the only Asian. This was at a time during the '70s where it’s not like it is now… There’s been a lot of progress in role models, in entertainment, in films, in politics and in sports, generally.” Still, as it was a period when international and interracial adoptions were not common, Kiesewetter reflects that with a German-American father from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and an Italian-American mother from Columbus, Ohio, his family just accepted him as one of their own and treated him without any thought toward the issue of race at home. He emphasizes the difference in the times where there weren’t books, social media, or accessible information on issues or concerns that might arise from raising a child from another country and culture. In high school, he recalls trying to fit into a predominantly white school with around 4,000 kids. He recalls learning about Pearl Harbor and having to face the halls of kids when they studied about the Japanese surprise attack, “there was no woke sort of element of saying Japanese people died too and war is horrible.” Kiesewetter also knew that he wasn’t like other Asian American kids who had their culture at home. However, he points out that “anybody who is, whether you’re adopted interracially or not, young like that, you’re trying to figure out who you are and where you fit in society and how you can contribute.” So, he just felt that he was a normal kid from New Jersey. After high school, at the age of 17, Kiesewetter didn’t know what to do, so his options were to join the military or go to university. Following his father’s footsteps, he decided to join the army. Being stationed in Germany, he was able to meet a number of people who were highly trained or well-educated in various areas like linguistics or special operations. After serving his time and saving up money, he completed his four years and used the GI Bill to eventually attend Rutgers University. Kiesewetter says he decided to do political science because of his interest in history and stories. He says he might have been influenced by his learning about Pearl Harbor in high school and the national interests of countries to do the things they do. Upon finishing his degree, Kiesewetter decided to move to the U.K. thanks to meeting an English woman during his time in Germany and finding an interest in graphic design. “When I discovered graphic design, I thought, ‘oh my gosh, this is great because it draws together both the things that I like—telling stories and drawing,’ which has a bit of practicality and also creativity.” So, he attended the University of Leicester, fell in love, and got married. When comparing his time in Leicester doing a number of jobs with studying and growing up in New Jersey, Kiesewetter says that the U.S. is a bit more advanced or mature, in the sense of being more developed around issues of racism because the U.S. has been having this kind of discussion much longer. Still, through his experiences, he found that he would try to find ways to extend details so that people would find them funny and relate to him on a human-to-human connection rather than based on his race or identity. In 2015, after spending about 25 years in a creative agency, Kiesewetter moved into the stand-up comic scene full-time with the aim of really wanting to show that he, like all Asians, are human beings and there is more than one way to be Asian. Even though he knows different Asian groups, he still finds that the majority of their stories aren’t like his, so he tries to focus on sharing the feelings and sentiments of all types of Asians, whether adoptees or not. It’s not a matter of talking about race per se, but rather to share that he has these experiences that can be humorous. In 2013, he created an event titled “Yellow Christmas” highlighting emerging U.K. Asian comedians. “I thought about it being a bit like Monet’s studies of haystacks, there’s hundreds of studies of the haystack. [Instead,] you could concentrate on the light of each of them, not on the details of the subject itself. So, when you have a lineup who are all Asians, you think, oh, my God, we’re all different because we all have different experiences. It’s so beautiful to see. I’ve been into these shows where I’ve had Asians come up to me, and one young Asian man, in particular, said, ‘thank you very much. I’ve never seen anything like that. Just somebody standing up and speaking and being intelligent.’ I’m telling you, there’s so much value in that. There’s value in people knowing that there are other people out there like them.” The event continues to draw attention to Asians from all walks of life, but the main message is that we are all human beings. About ten years ago, Kiesewetter started to search for his biological mother. Though he says it was mostly for his kids, due to needing information for their birth certificates in France, he admits to his own curiosity in finding his origins. Upon looking up his family registry at the Japanese embassy, he was able to get in touch with a man who married his birth mother, Kasue Kawate, but hadn’t known anything about him. Kawate’s last husband, Mr. Matsushita, sent him photos of his birth mother which gave him a sense of connection in seeing someone who looked like him. It also resonated with Kieswetter that his children now have an understanding of where his family history is and he feels a sense of responsibility, as an adoptee, to be able to get as much information as he can for his own family. While his birth mother has passed away ending any ability to connect with her, Kiesewetter admits that he may decide to connect with other relatives later, or if his own kids decide they want to explore that side of their heritage. While he feels there’s a lot more work to do because there’s still very few Asians who are in entertainment that are just people who are talking and telling their stories, he’s happy there is a lot more education available now on parenting, interracial/intercultural adoption, birth family searches, etc. Ultimately, though, Kiesewetter focuses on the fact that ”when you appreciate the strength that you can find from whatever people are going through, you can find that a lot of people are stronger than they think. So, when you’re undergoing challenging times, it’s a storm—and like all storms, it will pass.”

Alice Stephens is passionate about writing and adoptee voices. She’s spent her life honing her writing skills and adoption knowledge, making her an essential figure in both spaces. Her debut novel, "Famous Adopted People," challenges the traditional adoption narrative. As part of the first generation of intercountry adoptees and a well-traveled adoptive family, she offers a unique perspective through the lens of someone intimately familiar with what it feels like to be an outsider. But, she didn’t always possess the awareness and skill she has now. Alice knew she wanted to be a writer from an early age, saying, “I had the desire to be a writer before I had the ability.” She loved to read and wrote silly stories throughout high school. Continuing to pursue her love, she majored in English in college, then got a job in academic publishing in New York City. After a time, she realized it wasn’t the profession for her and decided to take on writing her own novel. She and her partner moved to New Mexico, where she wrote that novel. “It sucked. It was really terrible. But I did it, and it was a very good learning experience. It was also very discouraging. I stopped writing for a long time, but I didn’t stop having the desire to write,” she confessed. In addition to needing space from the discouraging experience, she started a family, which consumed all of her time. While Alice took a break from writing for herself, her work was always based on writing. Once her children were older, the family moved to Japan. Alice’s husband gave her the idea for a historical fiction novel based on a mixed-race Japanese man. After seven years and a lot of research, she had a product she was proud of. They moved back to the United States, where she got in on the ground floor with the Washington Independent Review of Books. She started writing book reviews, her first public-facing pieces, and to date, has over 100 reviews and her own column, Alice in Wordland. “I think that’s a really important first step: to have that confidence to say ‘I wrote this!’ and be really proud of it,” she reflected. Her success with the book reviews and column did not translate into success for her historical novel. She got two agents, who believed in her and her work and sent her novel to some of the top publishers in the U.S. None of them picked it up. She decided to tuck that away and write about what she knew: adoption. Unlike the historical novel that took seven years, her novel came out in only 10 months. Alice’s agent relentlessly sent her book out, but couldn’t get anyone to publish it. In a last-ditch effort, Alice sent the novel to an independent publisher, Unnamed Press, on her own. In what felt like a fairytale, Unnamed Press published her book, "Famous Adopted People" (read more about the journey here). This achievement not only validated that her story was important and she had the skill to tell it but also prompted her to write more about adoption. Born in 1967 to a Korean woman and an American soldier father, Alice’s fate was cast before memory could capture what was happening. She was adopted by a white family in the United States, to whom she attributes her solid self-confidence. “I was a lucky adoptee. I was adopted into a family that told me that I was very smart and always gave me confidence in my mind. In fact, they told me I was the smartest one in the family. That’s an incredible gift to give an outsider child.” Although her confidence in her capabilities was high, like many adoptees, her confidence in her personality and ability to gain friends was not. She experienced the same types of racism most Asians face in America. Writing provided a refuge because she could get her words out into the public without being physically present. Alice’s family traveled extensively when she was growing up. Those experiences, in tandem with her transracial adoptee identity, gave her a fearlessness in exploring the world and discovering how vast the range of human experience is. “Traveling the world is wonderful because it opened my perspective on life, so I understood there’s more than just black and white. Like adoption, there are so many nuances and complexities to everything.” Speaking of nuances and complexities, although Alice said, “I’m a lucky adoptee,” she by no means subscribes to the traditional adoption narrative. She owns that her life couldn’t exist without adoption: If she had been a mixed-race baby left in Korea in the '60s, she wouldn’t have the life she has today. She said, “I’m not anti-adoption; there is a need,” but she also believes, “the more you learn about adoption, the more rotten it becomes.” The first thing that set her alarms off were all the stories she read about adoptees that painted them as helpless objects. “It’s not that adoption is wrong; the narrative around adoption is wrong.” That’s why she wrote "Famous Adopted People." She was tired of all the fairy tales, sappy stories, and false narratives. The adoption landscape has changed quite a bit since Alice was a child. As part of the first wave of adoptees, she was incredibly isolated and didn’t come across another self-identified adoptee until eighth grade (around 14 years old), or a Korean adoptee until her 20s. All the social media communities, conferences, books, and podcasts we have now weren’t options then, so she had no support or reason to wonder why she felt bad about herself; she just figured she was a rotten kid. Looking back on it, she recognized the deep sense of alienation, self-loathing, and desperate attempts to get people to see her the way she wanted to be seen. She had no idea the adoptee community existed until she published her novel, which connected her to this community that provided more context, language, and support for her experience as an adoptee than she ever had before. Alice admitted that "Famous Adopted People" didn’t garner the grandiose success she hoped for, but she also knows she shouldn’t have been surprised, possessing the knowledge of the publishing world as she does. Her novel doesn’t follow the traditional narrative, which makes people uncomfortable. But, Alice isn’t concerned with making those who uphold the status quo comfortable; she’s on a mission to shift the narrative—both through her own writing and helping other adoptees publish their stories. Writing has shown her how people think about and interrogate their past. She mused, “One of the gifts of being an adoptee is that we can look at our lives and say, ‘oh, I’ve changed my mind,’ and that’s ok. The world is changing all around us all the time, every day.” After perusing Alice’s work, it may not seem like she runs into creative blocks like the rest of us, but she assured me that she does. A lot. Working through them includes being part of a writing group, where prompts help to either spark something for her current work-in-progress or simply give her a nice piece, temporarily assuaging the frustration of not making progress on the main piece. Another way she works through the writing block is to not write. She suggests, “Take in other art, not just reading but movies, media, painting, sculpture, nature, whatever. Just kinda let your mind wander, but wander in a good way, in a way that focuses your mind on what you’re trying to write through.” Swimming also helps her empty her mind, making space for ideas to come up. Writing presents numerous challenges, including motivation to get going, finding a balance between being disciplined and too tough on oneself, and perhaps the hardest of them all, rejection. Alice notes, “The rejection is really hard. It happens a lot, and it happens even to famous writers. That’s the most difficult, but that goes back to self-confidence. You always have to have some sort of confidence if you want to be published.” While there are challenges, writing is also immensely rewarding. Alice’s face lit up as she enumerated the myriad benefits: it’s great for introverts because all she needs is power and the Internet, she loves creating stories and seeing them take shape on the page, having a finished product she’s satisfied with, seeing her work out in the world, reading what others write, and she especially loves the writing community and nurturing those fruitful exchanges. “That helps as a writer to know you’re not alone, having others who support you and genuinely want to see you succeed.” Due to countless situations, many adoptees are afraid to tell their stories. Her advice? Write your story and worry about the fear after it’s written. Just get it out of you first. If finding the words is the hard part, she said, “That’s a little trickier. The big thing about writing is organizing your thoughts, and the way to organize your thoughts is to write. So it’s kind of a circle, but the only way you can start that is by sitting down to write. You have to sit down and write and refine it and refine it and refine it until it makes sense and flows well. That takes time. Don’t get discouraged. Take writing classes, become part of a writing group, submit your work and see what people say when they return it. There are lots of ways to get better just by practicing, but really, you have to sit down and do it. That’s the first step.” Practicing what she preaches, Alice not only participates in writing groups, she’s also a co-facilitator in one, Adoptee Voices Writing Group, founded by Sara Easterly. Alice got looped into the group after Sara heard her on Haley Radke’s podcast. She admits she was skeptical at first, but after the first cohort, she was blown away by the adoptees and their stories. Though she facilitates, the experience helps her as a writer too, providing a broader view of the adoptee experience, which translates into her ability to write fuller characters. As a participant in this group myself, I get to witness the empathetic support, strategic feedback, and profound value she brings to the table, providing a safe place for adoptees to learn how to effectively tell their stories and hone their craft. Aside from her role as a co-facilitator in the adoptee writing group, Alice always has several irons in the fire. Her goals moving forward are to get two historical novels published, complete the current novel she’s working on, and maybe, just maybe, write a memoir. She also partnered with poet Marci Calabretta Cancio-Bello to facilitate the Adoptee Literary Festival on April 9, 2022. The full details are still in the works; however, you can look forward to hearing from the keynote speaker, Nicole Chung, during the event. Alice is an inspiring example of an adoptee who’s boldly shifting the adoption narrative while guiding and supporting other adoptees to do the same. She’s already made a profound impact, and she’s nowhere near finished. Cover photo: Bruce Guthrie

The Universal Asian got to know Mai Young Øvlisen, lead singer of Meejah. The Danish-Korean band recently released their debut album Queen of Spring (2021) which is available to stream on Spotify. Follow them on Instagram here! Tell us about yourself. All right. My name is Mai Young Øvlisen, and I live in Copenhagen, Denmark. I grew up in Aarhus in Jutland. It’s the second biggest city in Denmark. And I’m adopted from South Korea. So I was born in Seoul, and then I came to Denmark when I was two months old. How did you get into music? When did you start playing? I started playing when I was about 7 years old. I started playing classical piano, but before that, I started dancing classical ballet as well. My father is very passionate about music, so we were listening to a lot of classical music and also a lot of American singer-songwriters, like Neil Young and some other bands and acts like Janis Joplin—people with big voices or big emotions. I was playing the piano for several years, but at some point I felt the need to express some of my inner emotions more, and I started singing and playing with bands. When I was about, I don’t know, 16–17 years old, I started writing music on my own. How would you describe your sound or genre? It’s definitely alternative. It comes out of alternative rock music. I like acts like Radiohead, Nick Cave—some have large soundscapes and some have a sort of melancholy through them. Then, I also like bands that think of their album as a whole piece of art, a concept album. Our sound and my band, Meejah, is a combination of singer-songwriting and big soundscapes, but also various inspirations from electronic music, from edgy, gritty hip hop, post-metal (new genres that have evolved from artistic metal in the last decades), experimental music, and then I also combine Tibetan singing bowls. I’ve also taken inspiration in Korean Pansori singing. Like the concept of the album, it’s a mixture of the North and the East. We also try to do it with the sounds. Is there any significance to the name of your band? Yeah, it’s called Meejah, and it’s a paraphrase of the romantic period that thinks of the artist as a medium for divine inspiration. I also learned that it’s similar to a Korean female name. That was by mistake, but it makes a fine story: that I carry some of my unconscious Korean heritage with me. Do you have a songwriting process? I can tell you about what happened when the album started taking form. I was in a very heavy sorrow process at the time. There were a lot of feelings of loss and also feelings of—I think you can call it [urgency]. It felt like it was bigger than my body could contain. And then, it happened in this sort of overspill state. In just over a weekend, 2–3 days, I created four songs. It was a crazy weekend. It was almost like I couldn’t be inside myself, but I could create music. They just came one by one. And they were quite significant. It felt like that “medium” thought, like they called me in or something like that, like “It’s time!” Then it became very clear that there was sort of a concept to them. They were created over the four elements in the Korean flag: fire, heaven, water, earth. After that weekend, I felt quite relieved. I think that’s how I write songs in general. I think it’s when I’m in a process and things are just about to land or transform themselves, it’s then that I use the music to take them further. I also just think of all these emotional states as states of energy. It’s a way of molding the energy, changing it, building something with it, instead of it being a heavy weight. Can you tell me more about Queen of Spring (2021)? It’s the philosophy of the elements of the Korean flag. Also, I have been lucky to go on some trips back to Korea with other Korean adoptees—not just from Denmark, but from Scandinavia, Australia, Europe, and the U.S. Sometimes, the adoptee story is very much a fairytale story. Somebody goes into the woods to find something or to slay the dragon and returns and lives happily ever after. But, I don’t think that’s how an adoptee feels in real life. It’s an ongoing inner discussion or dialogue you have with yourself, and that can bring really beautiful things if you want to interact with that part of yourself. So, I think I collected experiences and questions that I wanted to translate into sound, into songs, and into a collaboration with my bandmates, Daniel and Andreas, because they weren’t as involved in the inner conversations. They just hear the sounds and the songs and the structures, and use their ability to understand and to translate stories into music. So maybe it’s not a direct inspiration, but it is an artistic rite for me to collaborate with others and to be in that space where you create something new. Is there a significance to the order of the tracks? Yes. After I created the first four tracks on a composition, I found out that there were other tracks that wanted to be written. They felt a little bit like bridges between the four big elements. I looked into Korean philosophy and found out that there are not just four trigrams, but eight trigrams. The others are thunder, wind, lake, and mountain. So, the album is built over these eight trigrams, and the philosophy is the unity of all opposites. And also, the only principle is the principle of change—which is also from Chinese Taoism. The album is called Queen of Spring because, as I understand it with my Western mindset, you have to go through a full circle of these heavy elements—and some of them are challenging and some of them are beautiful—and then you purify, and the next time you play the circle, it will have changed and you will have elevated your understanding and your level of enlightenment. I just like the way the album, and the way we have planned the eight tracks, sort of transforms your inner emotional state. What do you want listeners to take away or experience from your music? I want them to feel the change. I want them to feel the elevation. It is an exploration of how you can tell stories in sound. And, I think the Asian-European narrative is not that known. I also think we have other stories or other nuances to tell than the Asian-American community, and I think that we can interact with each other and inspire each other. I’m from the North, from Denmark and Scandinavia, and I’ve also spent a lot of time on the Faroe Islands, which is a very small group of islands north of Scotland, just before Iceland. The Faroese culture tells me very much about old historical roots. It tells a story just in how they are, how the culture is about how it was before in other Scandinavian countries. So, I hope that the listener will try to connect to all these historical movements that we have tied together in a new sort of story. I also hope they will get inspired to think about their own heritage—it’s not just about ethnicity or different continents coming together, it can be just the meeting of any two cultures. It can also just be your mother’s line and your father’s line and how they’re different and how they influence who you are. What advice do you have for aspiring musicians? First of all, I think that they should believe in their own expression, and insist on their own expression. Find playmates, soulmates that they really enjoy spending time with. I think communication outside the music is very important as well. Because, you can have different opinions on genre, and you can have different musical inspirations, but if you can understand each other on that existential level, then it can really be a benefit. So, the communication also means to me that you are able to translate your ideas and thoughts, and understand them, of course. I have tried to be very mindful about what I wanted to tell, and I wanted to build something new. I wanted to build a new line of stories, and I think it’s also very cool if you just want to spread good vibes or party or be the coolest person in the room. I just think you have to be honest. It is some kind of change you want to create, because when people press play on your music, it immediately affects the body and the brain. So yeah, just some kind of honesty. Be honest with yourself. How do you feel when you perform your music? Do you still get nervous from time to time? I try to stay open to that particular evening and that particular audience. Also, our own states. Because then every concert feels different when you perform it. I also try to have a rooted connection to what each song wants to express, and it’s a lifelong rehearsal to do that, to be that medium, to step aside and be an instrument for that story to tell itself. I try to be as good as I possibly can on my instruments. I think a lot about what I want to say between songs, and how I can compose the concert as a whole. If I stay focused, I don’t get nervous. I just get excited. It’s a good thing, because then the energy rises and you have something to send out. A big congratulations to Mai, who was nominated for the Danish Music Critic’s Award “Steppeulven 2022″ as the first Asian Female leadperson/frontperson in a band ever in the category "Hope of the Year."

In her daring and confrontational artwork, An Laurence Higgins explores transnational identity as an adoptee of Chinese origin. “My teacher once told me that I should not go into music because it’s a very hard life, and I was almost convinced that I was not going to lead my life as an artist,” says An Laurence Higgins, 安媛, from her flat in Montreal, Canada. “I could give everything up tomorrow and very easily, do a degree in whatever, but to not be able to do Music would be very depressing,” says the Canadian musician, performance artist and guitarist. An Laurence recalls the hesitation she had before deciding to pursue a degree in music: “I was never afraid of not being able to see what to do with my life. So, it was always in my mindset that if music doesn’t work out then I just do something else.” “I was not very confident about my skills. And, in Quebec, it was pretty affordable to just reorientate yourself.” However, when she started to play music when she was 12, she found a love for it. “I always was a very introspective person even as a child and I feel like music was really helping me to cope with loneliness and not being able to connect so much with a lot of people around me. I was able to really dive into the music I was listening to.” She also describes how she started to play guitar because she wanted to play “electric bass in rock bands.” Now, An Laurence is a specialist in new and experimental music whose works often address human relationships, memory and transnational identity. She says, “New music is a dissonant branch of classical music, of contemporary music. In the 20th century, there were a lot of experiments around classical music as a performance, in visual art or some other form.” For An Laurence, sometimes she uses visuals or electronics to make different narratives of music. She tells me she also likes to collaborate with other artists. “I like to enter into the dialogue with other artists and to find common points that we share, that we can recognise ourselves in,” she says. As a Chinese adoptee, she was brought to Canada by a French-Canadian couple when she was very young. Her transnational identity has since played a significant part in her works. In 2018, she created a multimedia installation “Confidences en trois temps” and in 2021, the interactive performance “Approchez, je vous raconterai ce que j’ai oublié/Come Closer, I’ll tell you what I forgot.” In “Come Closer, I’ll tell you what I forgot,” which is the latest performative installation that An Laurence has done, she shared monologues about her birth, her mother’s struggles due to China’s birth planning policy, and how she was finally given up by her mother due to pressure from her in-laws to have a son. An Laurence remembers the disconnection she had when producing this piece: “It was a question I had when I started working on it as I had already been doing research on it for about a year and a half talking about adoption. But it was not really associated with the story of adoption, I felt that there was a strong disconnection between when I was talking about my own adoption or just adoption in general; I felt I was talking about something else.” She added: “There was no music in the performance because I didn’t feel like any music would belong there.” An Laurence also recounts the struggles she had in telling a personal story she had no traces of. “When I started working on this project, my research project question was ‘how can we or how can I relate to a story that I don’t remember, that I don’t have traces of?'" “And I had no idea how to answer this question.” After reading a book in which real accounts of adoption were documented, An Laurence suddenly felt a connection. “When I was reading them, it was, for me, really, really strong, because it was the first time I ever felt a feeling of belonging. Before, my birth parents were just concepts; they were not really people in my mind.” When she read the stories about other people who were adopted just like her, An Laurence felt that her birth and her birth parents were real. “It could not have happened any other way. When I was reading them, I kind of found an answer.” Therefore, in this multimedia piece "Come Closer, let me tell you what I forgot," An Laurence depicted a very original story behind its very interactive components. “I wanted also to create a relationship with the public, and also I was a bit confrontational.” If it wasn’t for COVID-19 where social distancing must be followed, An Laurence says she would have invited people to come into a space and sit around a table. She says: “Every time a person would sit in front of me, I would start telling this story of adoption. It would be a different story every time a different person sits. “So, all of those stories are adapted from stories I’ve read from the books. And the idea there is that I’m not telling my personal story but I’m embodying the room, a collective narrative that belongs to all of us.” Now, as an avid collaborator, An Laurence collaborates with artists of various disciplines, and thrives in settings that stretch the limits of traditional music performance. Her performance style ranges from contemporary classical to electronic music, as well as spoken works and sung performances. An Laurence along with Annie Tong Zhou Lafrance have also launched a collaborative zine UP CLOSE, detailing their creative processes that led to the creation of their works “Come Closer, I’ll tell you what I forgot” (An Laurence) and “From China, To Canada” (Annie Tong Zhou Lafrance). You can read more about how to get a copy here.

The Universal Asian had the privilege of interviewing Moses Farrow as he shared his adoption story, surviving an abusive and chaotic adoptive home, and his journey to becoming an advocate for mental health, more adoptee research, and the telling of adoptee stories to maintain a living history of the adoptee experience. Moses Farrow was born in South Korea with cerebral palsy. He believes this is telling of the condition and situation that his birth mother must have been in during her pregnancy and his birth. At about 2 years old, Farrow was adopted into his high-profile family—though at the time his adoptive mother was recently divorced—as the youngest of seven children in the house but the first to be adopted into the family. His adoptive mother would later adopt another seven, mostly disabled, younger children over the years. Most of his early childhood memories are centered around physical and speech therapies to address his disability. This created in Farrow a need for control and ownership, especially over his own body. He struggled to accept that he couldn’t musically or athletically join in with his older siblings or peers. Still, he said he was fortunate enough to not feel that he suffered from teasing or ridicule at school, though he felt his challenges internally. This lack of confidence was further exacerbated by the abuse he experienced at home. He described growing up in a New York City apartment with his seven other siblings, who were all a wide range of ages, as being chaotic where everyone shared rooms and spaces. Underneath the hubbub of life was a growing sense of fear and anxiety for Farrow as he grew older and gained more independence with his disability. He shared that he was constantly having to be on high alert as to when he might get yelled at, in trouble for some unknown offense, and blamed for things. He worried about what might be said or what he had unwittingly said. Initially, he thought this was a normal way to live. One early memory, Farrow recalled, was when he was about 5 and was abruptly awakened by his adoptive mother dragging him to her bathroom accusing him of taking her pills despite his half dazed denials. He second-guessed his own denials and received the punishment of a bar of soap in his mouth for an unknown period of time until his adoptive mother decided it was enough for him to go back to bed. Another example Farrow gave was when he was playing with a Speak & Spell and the sound became garbled. He took it to his adoptive mother, and she immediately blamed him for breaking it. “The next thing I know, I’m laying across her lap getting spanked. It was just a switch; from playing, bringing it to my mom to find out what’s up with it, and the next thing I know there is screaming and crying and getting blamed for it.” In the end, he found out that all it needed was a new battery. While independently these examples may seem benign, the consistency of such behavior took a toll as he felt the environment was always unsafe and unstable. Although some are able to survive these kinds of situations, like Farrow has, there are others who do not. Within Farrow’s own family, the lack of safety and trauma experienced was unbearable for three of his adopted siblings, who are recorded to have been lost due to suicide or suicidal decisions. Because he was (still is) estranged from his adoptive mother’s side of the family, which includes many of his adopted siblings, Farrow sadly acknowledged that it still weighs heavily on him that he was not there for them as an older brother. Despite the difficulty and stigma around suicide, Farrow believes that it is important to talk about it and address the pain. He admitted that there have been points in his life where he also felt suicidal. Farrow believes that although one could argue that anyone who is raised in an abusive home can feel tremendous isolation and loneliness, which are often the catalyst for a suicide victim, he also emphasized the additional weight of adoption trauma. “You can’t undo lived experiences. You can’t undo relinquishment. You can’t undo a forced separation. You can’t undo something that might have happened to you during pregnancy.” Adding on to the trauma of adoption, abuse and external lack of validations are pieces that challenge the survival of adoptees. Farrow feels it is important to understand that “too many of us wonder what is wrong with me, and am I really to blame?” and that there is more to the overall context than just the individual. Farrow expressed that adoption itself stems from a series of losses that causes trauma to the adoptee that moves beyond just needing to survive, so his own experience is multilayered with the chaotic nature of his adoptive home. When he became a young adult, Farrow was able to make a change for himself. He was asked by an adviser, “Who is Moses?” This started him on his journey to self-discovery and created his ability to live fully rather than react to life passing by. He had to deactivate the survival instincts, or fear of threats, that he had developed, and learn to feel safe within himself and his social environment. To achieve this, he had to change his physical environment, which included distancing himself from his family. Farrow found friends who offered support and care. These friends became like family, which led him to redefine what family is. He also has a renewed relationship with his adoptive father that he still maintains. This change provided him with examples of love, compassion, and what it means to trust; thereby giving him a new perspective where he has been able to find emotional security and safety. He shared that it is still a constant exercise and effort to be aware of his past and of the activation points that set him off as a reaction against the imprinted traumas of his childhood. Furthermore, he found a way to survive by discovering a sense of purpose and giving back to the greater good so as not to give in to the personal suffering and weight of his own pain. Still, he shared that he continues to struggle with confidence, but a Ted Talk by Kristen Neff on self-compassion gave him inspiration to continue on his journey toward healing and advocacy. According to Farrow, there needs to be a stronger understanding of what it means to be adopted and about the types of adoptions. In other words: “Is a child abducted and adopted? Or, is a child trafficked and adopted? Is the relinquishment forced and then adopted? More research is needed around adoption origin stories.” He believes there will continue to be more interest, funding, and information available as more adoptees’ stories come out and are talked about. Farrow left us with this message: “We need to come together and have these platforms to acknowledge amongst ourselves our unique but shared experiences of being adopted. It is important to have these spaces as modern day historians to record our experiences as more children continue to be adopted so that we can continue to move forward and change the trajectory of experiences. No matter where one is on their own journey, whether a positive one or not, all that matters is that we have a historical record. The more that we share our stories, the more accurate a picture we create so that we know how to shift the conversations, adjust the adoption experience, and avoid repeating previous mistakes.” Everything in his life has culminated into now and what he can uniquely offer. As such, Farrow actively advocates for human rights, suicide prevention, and mental health. He is dedicating his life to raising awareness and representing the voices of those who are no longer with us.

I sat down recently for a virtual chat with 양 천식 (Yang Cheon-Shik), who is also known by his adopted name, Jeff. He was seated comfortably on the floor of his home in NYC, dressed in a beautiful wine-colored modern hanbok with a plaid pattern made from 12 yards of silk and taffeta. There was also a 망건 (manggeon) adorning his head, a headband traditionally topped with a Korean hat known as a 갓 (gat). Tell us a little bit about yourself, your childhood, how you came to the U.S., whatever you want to share. “My Korean name is Jeff, or my Korean name is Cheon-Shik. I am a Korean American adoptee. According to the birth adoption records that I have at my disposal (whether or not those are valid is to be determined), I was pre-arranged for adoption by a single mother, a factory worker in Korea. I came over [to the U.S.] at six months old, was adopted by a white family, and grew up in upstate New York in an idyllic, country town. For the most part, the only other Asians I knew were adopted kids, and all of us were within a year or two of each other in age. I played oboe in school. In music classes, there were always other Asians kids, which I didn’t think was unusual; it was almost…expected. I continued to pursue music through conservatory, and found a new community in the musical theatre circles of NYC.” That road to various creative communities eventually led Jeff into Asian design. He is known for designing and wearing modern hanbok every day. He owns a few t-shirts, a pair of jeans, and an emergency back up suit, but says he primarily dresses in 19th century (1800s) Joseon Dynasty–inspired hanbok. Jeff commonly puts on the traditional amount of layers and wears the garments everywhere—to work, to Starbucks, to pick up lunch, and anywhere else he goes in the city. I want to touch on something I heard you say in your introduction; you mentioned “Asian,” “Korean,” and “adopted.” Can you tell me more about whether you agree with, or use these sort of categorizations, given the way the world can sometimes use them as labels? “I use specific labels at certain times now, because [before], I didn’t know what they meant. I used to sort of go with it, like an ‘indifference mentality’ in order to survive. But now, as I am almost forced to explain it [wearing daily hanbok], my current self image is a product of being an adoptee in America embracing my Korean heritage, but also being a part of the ‘monolith’ of Asian-Americans in the West. I know the link between ‘adopted’ and ‘Korean’ is intertwined. I identify so strongly as Korean, that ‘-American’ is almost an afterthought—used only because I am in this environment. I was born in Korea. I was adopted from Korea. I am the immigrant. I am the first one to cross, so in my mind, I have always thought of myself as a Korean, contrary to what purists and gatekeepers may say. I was born to a Korean family with generations of Korean ancestors on Korean soil. I was the last person with any choice in where I was brought. My Korean-ness is an undisputed fact. Being adopted leads me to be as aggressively Korean as I am now.” Your social media bio includes that phrase you just used, “aggressively Korean.” Can you go into more detail about that? “My Hanbok twin, as I call my friend, shared that sentiment once, and I liked it. This journey is solely for me, and furthering my relationship with Korea. I’ve been trying to build that separate from my search for my birth family. I didn’t want how I feel about being Korean, my Korean identity, and my self [identity], to be affected by whatever outcome might happen. I am entitled to every hurt, rage, and anger from that outcome, but I want to still love Korea and who I am at the end of the day.” As fellow adoptees, we went on to talk about the idea that we do not need permission to be what we are: Korean. Jeff went on to share that native Koreans, and maybe some Korean Americans may not understand the adoptee lens we look through. He articulated that many of them simply do not know what it’s like to not be surrounded by Korean culture, customs, and norms. He did not eat kimchi until his 20s, nor meet a Korean elder until his 30s. He often wonders if the relationships he has with elder Korean mentors and friends are projections of what it might be like to have a Korean father or mother. Let’s talk about your journey into studying about and wearing hanbok. “I stumbled across others on YouTube living their daily lives in historical wear, and I wondered what the Korean version of that was. So, I bought a used hanbok set and learned how to use a sewing machine. I copied the exact pattern off of the one I bought and also started with a few pieces from various modern hanbok outlets in Korea.” Jeff uses traditional patterns and garment types that are traditionally layered with the proper accessories and silhouettes, but he makes them with Western fabric and execution due to availability, cost, and personal design preference. He purchases fabric from his connections in the garment district of NYC. For example, instead of sheer silk, he might use organza. His patterning is not the same as those that are more traditional to Korea, but his designs are inspired by the Joseon Dynasty era. He finds modern inspiration that sometimes has nothing to do with Korea, but then looks at that through the lens of hanbok, such as a Sherlock Holmes look he completed a few months ago. You are someone who really appreciates the details of hanbok. What are your favorite details or components about traditional wear that impress you most? “The sheer genius of how they do not waste fabric is what fascinates me. Traditionally, a bolt of fabric would be much thinner, so the patterns are based on how wide that bolt is. Everything [in hanbok] is long rectangles; the front is one long rectangle and the second is stilted at an angle. My sleeves are giant rectangles and curves are sewn into it. Traditionally, they wouldn’t cut any fabric. If a sleeve got dirty, they would flip it inside out and use the non-sun-dyed side. Historical stitching is hand done, and so [it is] light and non-permanent. If it’s a nice silk, they’ll undo that, clean it, and stitch it back up. If the sleeves of a garment are too tattered to be worn, maybe they cut them off, and refashion it into a vest. That is a common thing for men’s robes. The scraps can make their way down to being baby diapers. In terms of textile use, and the Korean process of that, the garments are also so free (moveable). The pants are drawstrings so they can grow and be comfortable with the body, like when we eat a big meal. The seven layers were made to not feel like any pressure on the person. For women’s wear, the empire waist is often thought to not be flattering by Western perception, but the Korean historical silhouette is beautiful regardless of one’s accurate body shape. We are essentially crafting body silhouettes from the garmenture, rather than being self conscious about what our body actually looks like.” Are there any other exciting, upcoming projects that you are excited about? “With the return of 'Game of Thrones: House of the Dragon,' and the almost complete lack of East Asian representation in that show, I love the idea of a Targaryen hanbok. Leather, fur, and heavy embroidery. I also think [I’ll work on] a more simplified black linen with white peek-out underskirt (based on Chanel inspiration) to wear over my louder outfits while I’m in transit.” Is there any advice you would give from your own experiences (you’ve mentioned identity in music communities, connection with Korea through everyday hanbok, etc.) that might help others to begin embracing culture, heritage, or identity? “We are universally visually inspired people, so [use] whatever means you have. In my case, I searched for ‘Hanbok Fashion’ or ‘Asian Modern Style’ on Instagram. I also think visibility is helpful, universally in itself. To look more, to see yourself more…to be inspired. You won’t know you need or want it until you see it being done. Maybe it’s reading a book on history or tradition. Learning more, taking peeks into where you come from. It may ground you and enhance what is already inside. One question can take you somewhere even further. Be curious, I guess. Universally, we can all tap into that curiosity of where we come from. In my case, it’s Korean, but really, [we can do that] from any background.” A few years ago, Jeff purchased a Leesle brand modern hanbok jacket and paired it with jeans, thinking it was scandalous and new. Now, he is unabashedly afraid to embrace fully-inspired Korean hanbok wear as a part of his daily life. You can connect with Jeff on Instagram @yang_cheon_shik. He hopes to restart his YouTube channel, Cheon-Shik Yang, soon, as well.