Dear Asian Youth, As a young history enthusiast I often pinned my faith on the ceaseless classroom sessions and textbook readings procured during school level education. However, now as a prospective history major I’m forced to question the legitimacy of the past that we inherit as students. It all began with reading Antonia Fraser’s Marie Antoinette: The Journey. Often in classroom sessions Antoinette had been portrayed as a vain aristocrat infamous for her remark, “Let them eat cake!” signifying lack of empathy towards the plight of the starving citizens. However, Fraser’s book left me gaping as I realized this was an elaborate myth like many others! In fact Antoinette though continuing to exhibit some side effects of aristocracy was a seemingly kind-hearted individual, much concerned about the plight of her people. There’s no historical record of her making the infamous statement, the last mention of which dates back to Rousseau’s memoirs written prior to Antoinette’s arrival in France. Coming back home, Shah Jahan has been wrongly accused of chopping off the hands of the Taj Mahal workers which has been deemed as another myth. This doesn’t end here, Yasmin Khan in her book The Great Partition, points out the blame game going on at an international scale where both Indian and Pakistani curriculum continues to spin their own version of partition history where the hunter and the prey keep fluctuating. So, is the past we learn about in textbooks and classroom lectures actually legitimate and unbiased or the author or teacher’s personal perspective? Romila Thapar in her memoir: Writing History Textbooks, talks about the harmful policy of historical negationism rooted in Indian Education System. With the changing regimes be it state or national education, the ruling government continues to distort history in order to mould it into a version that seconds their ideology. Be it the ruthless subversion of history textbooks in Rajasthan threatening to alter the outcome of Battle of Haldighati among many others by the then BJP government or the Congress’ plea to put greater emphasis on the role of Congress leaders during the freedom struggle, thus overshadowing others; history is slowly becoming a battleground of politics rather than foundation truth of our society. With the mingling of so many myths, nation-wise perspectives and most importantly ideological perspectives, history as a discipline is slowly losing its credibility. In this scenario it is essential to constitute a think-tank of accomplished historians free from political bias to restructure history books. Instead of force-feeding students a rigid perspective, they should be supplied with ample facts enumerating not just the country’s triumphs but also its defeats and then allowed to formulate a personal opinion. Students at very few schools are encouraged to participate in classroom debates and are mostly left to the devices of rote learning. This is a long drawn struggle as some communities are still fighting to make their history known. History of many tribal and regional communities doesn’t even make it to textbooks under the pretext of them not reflecting a pan-India outlook or are sometimes even blatantly deleted to make the curriculum more ‘examination-friendly’. As someone who aims at pursuing research in the field, the question lingers: how do we contribute to a nation’s history without it falling prey to fallacious myths and biases? -Avishi As I was preparing for my college interview I came across this book called The Past as Present : Forging contemporary identities through history by renowned Indian historian Romila Thapar. Thapar talked about an extremely important and widespread issue that no one is interested in talking about i. e. distortion in history taught at school level as a result of interpolation of various myths, political and social biases. This article is an attempt to highlight the said issue. Biography: I'm an 18 year old high school graduate with a passion for poetry, literature and history.

Dear Asian Youth, Long ago, the four nations of water, earth, fire, and air lived together in harmony. But everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Only the Avatar, master of all four elements could stop them...but when the world needed him most, he vanished. After a hundred years, Sokka and Katara, a pair of Water Tribe siblings, uncover a new Avatar- an airbender named Aang. it’s up to him to master all four elements in order to defeat the Fire Lord. I remember when I first started the series. “Avatar: The Last Airbender”, or A: TLA, swept me away with its vivid and intricate worldbuilding, stellar characters, and magnificent storytelling. I feel like every kid is obsessed with something really niche during their preteen years. It could be horses, space, or Harry Potter books. Those phases feel intense and, in retrospect, are more often than not a little embarrassing. For me, that phase involved A:TLA. I was obsessed with the show, and I genuinely think it sparked my desire to create visual media. As a kid, you sort of latch on to any character that kind of looks like you. Seeing Katara, A:TLA’s leading lady, was one of the first times I felt that. It’s a brown girl! Like me! And thus began my spiraling obsession with the water tribe (though nowadays, I feel like I’d be an earthbender, ha!) and by extension, the cartoon’s universe as a whole. But A:TLA is more than that. It is a complex story, it is brilliant character arcs, it is so, so much more. The show has garnered a lot of attention these days due to its newfound place on Netflix. It makes me happy to see that so many people are appreciating such a gem. It’s a show for everyone, and if you haven’t seen it yet (or are still stuck in the slower pacing of season one), this is a sign to pick it up! It’s a fantastic show for so many reasons, from its fantasy world to its narrative relevancy. **Mild spoilers ahead, so tread carefully. Worldbuilding: the Value of Inspiration How many fantasy franchises can you think of that utilize Asian culture for their worldbuilding? I know that sounds super specific, but bear with me. The typical fantasy world (at least, in the Americanized scope that I’m familiar with) tends to take its themes from medieval Europe. I’m talking about castles, greedy dragons, elves. Imagine if we gave regions outside of Europe the same treatment. We’ve been deprived of fantasy Mesoamerica, fantasy Middle East, fantasy Africa! But I digress. A:TLA’s worldbuilding is special. Asian influence is infused into various facets of the show, including the hard magic system that has correlating martial art styles for each element. Airbending is based off of BaGua circle walking, a martial art that’s light, flexible, and...well, airy. It’s even based in monastic tradition. Earthbending is influenced by Hung Gar stances, which emphasize strong rooting to the ground. Firebending aligns with Northern Shaolin Kung-Fu, which is strong, dynamic, and powerful. And the gentler art of waterbending (though powerful in and of itself) echoes Tai Chi movements, which are notably softer and less based in strength. Each nation, while not having exact one-to-one correlations with the real world like with bending, has distinct cultural differences that are clearly inspired by a multitude of Asian countries. And that might be what I like most about A:TLA: It recognizes Asia as rich, diverse, and different. Asian culture is varied, and so are the four nations. We can see their differences simply in the architecture: The Fire Nation palaces echo imperial Japanese structures, which contrast the Air Nomad temples modeled after Tibetan monk temples. The walls of the Earth Kingdom’s Ba Sing Se is Chinese in influence, reminiscent of the Great Wall, and the snow based structures of the Water Tribe are akin to Inuit igloos. But it extends beyond scenic atmospheres. We see the powerful and collectivist Fire Nation culture as highly nationalistic, whereas the glimpses we get of Air Nomads portray them as benevolent jokesters who value humor and freedom. Even within a singular nation, there are cultural differences, just like in the real world. The Northern Water Tribe is sophisticated, powerful, and patriarchal in contrast to their smaller sister tribe in the South. Not to mention the Swamp Dwellers, who utilize a totally unique sort of waterbending. As a fantasy lover myself, I feel suffocated seeing the same tropisms in fiction. Avatar is a breath of fresh air, and the Asian influence is more than just a backdrop. It’s a reminder that there’s so much the world has to offer in terms of inspiration if we look beyond what we already know, in this case, Europe. As Uncle Iroh says, “It is important to draw wisdom from many different places. If you take it from only one place, it becomes rigid and stale.” Characters and Growth While I won’t get too deep into individual arcs of our characters, I do want to say that they are all drastically changed by the end of the story and undergo unique development. They bounce off of each other very well which makes for memorable interactions and relationships. Personally, I’m always a sucker for characters who just like each other and have good banter. And I haven’t even touched on the villain-hero dynamics! Aang and Zuko’s relationship as foil characters has so many significant and interesting parallels, and our season two villains possess fantastic presence as well as interesting motivations. No character is one-note, they are all given a degree of attention and depth. I particularly like how the protagonist- Aang -exemplifies something not often seen within “chosen ones”. He’s sensitive and inwardly emotional, but is still portrayed as extremely skilled and strong. He’s realistic: as a young kid with too many expectations heaped upon his shoulders, his flaws are believable. Watching him grow from a goofy kid to a powerful Avatar is so insanely satisfying because of the show’s pacing, which depicts his power crawl magnificently. Furthermore, I’d mark A:TLA as my first exposure to genuinely strong female characters. They are diverse as well. When I say diverse, I mean that the girls of A:TLA are all different in terms of their personalities and experiences, and are allowed to be strong in more ways than one. They are not put on the “girl power!” pedestals that I see so often in pieces of media, but instead are treated the same as any other character, gifted with unique development and their plight and the struggles that come with being a girl in a patriarchal society are not ignored. Storytelling: The Real-World Relevancy of “Avatar: The Last Airbender” One of the more negative things I hear the most about A:TLA is the slow start. People don’t seem to be too interested in the juvenile humor of season one. But therein lies the beauty of the series. The tone matures as the story progresses, and our characters develop from the events occurring. It is a tale about the tragedy of senseless war, with children fighting in battles they inherited. That’s not to say season one is terrible. Season one is essential to understanding the full scope of the series. It is the infrastructure and fundamental groundwork of the entire show. A:TLA’s major themes are serious and extremely relevant. Co-creator Michael DiMartino quoted a Salon article that heralded Avatar’s anti-facism message: “The sobering difference between watching "Avatar" in its time versus seeing it now is that life in America looks and feels a lot like life in the Fire Nation as Aang, Katara, Sokka, Toph, and eventually Zuko experience it. It is a place addicted to its increasingly hollow sense of greatness and even superiority, steered by a leader more concerned with his own glory than caring for his people.” While it may be a show for kids, Avatar touches on mature topics and how they affect our characters. Our protagonist is a survivor of genocide. Government corruption is given a central arc within season two. The evils of propaganda and nationalism are put front and center in an episode that features the Fire Nation. Speaking of the Fire Nation, it’s fairly obvious that their wartime efforts parallel real-world occurrences of colonization. Environmental destruction, exploitation, and the plight of the lower class are all featured as the crimes of the Fire Nation. Within their classrooms, children are indoctrinated to the glory of their empire and their leader early on. The Fire Nation creates a false narrative to their people about how powerful and superior they are, even when they are the undisputed villains. A sour reminder that history is penned by its victors. Even more interesting are the themes presented on an individual level: dealing with grief, learning how to forgive, and the feeling of loss. Aang and Katara, our protagonists, are both faced with an overwhelming vengeance towards those who have hurt them, and both come to terms in different ways. They are children fighting in a war, and watching the effects of that war upon these characters really hit home how desperately they need to end such senseless carnage. The Cultural Appropriation Question While being a fantasy story, A:TLA obviously draws a lot from Asian culture- in fact, the creators (before their departure from the Netflix project) initially promised an all POC cast for the live-action series. So this is technically a story about POCs written by white creators. Does that mean “Avatar: The Last Airbender” is an instance of cultural appropriation? Perhaps, technically. Only if you remove the context of maliciousness from cultural appropriation and define it as one culture adopting something from another culture. In my opinion, it’s a good example of cultural appreciation. The cultures are represented with nuance and respect. In the circumstance of malicious cultural appropriation, there would be a degree of cherry-picking and ignorance. The lack of which is pretty much displayed through the fact that culture is more than a backdrop. It is very much imbued with the narrative and how our characters interact with the world. While there are no outright parallels with real Asian movements, I feel that the stories that center around being Asian (and the histories that come with it) should be written by Asians. But that is not A: TLA’s focus. It is an exploration of justice, war, and peace. To be completely honest, A:TLA is not an outright Asian show. It does have some elements that make it very Western, like the name pronunciations. Still, it’s wildly important to show Asian kids that their stories can exist on a scope beyond more realistic thinkpieces. Diversity should be found in facets beyond realism, like a fantasy adventure show. Interestingly, and perhaps one of the reasons why the show seems to resonate with so many Asian-American youths, Avatar is an “Asian-American story”, as Gene Luen Yang of the Avatar comic books commented on the series in a CharacterMedia article: “‘Avatar: The Last Airbender’ was quintessentially Asian American in the way it blended Eastern and Western cultures. The same way that we as Asian Americans are a blend of East and West.” Final Thoughts “Avatar: The Last Airbender” is a masterpiece. I find myself returning to it when I feel overwhelmed or sad, since what the show embodies to me is hope. Hope that a scarred world can someday recover from violence and hate. Hope that, in the face of adversity, the young can rise to triumph oppressive forces in power. Katara’s speech to the Earth Kingdom prisoners sticks out in my mind: “Some of you may think that the Fire Nation has made you powerless. Yes, they have taken away your ability to bend. But they can't take away your courage. And it is your courage they should truly fear! Because it runs deeper than any mine you've been forced to dig, any ocean that keeps you far from home! It is the strength of your hearts that make you who you are. Hearts that will remain unbroken when all rock and stone has eroded away. The time to fight back is now!” It is a reminder to remain stalwart, to pursue justice with passion. And even if we are ignored, even if we are knocked down...to continue fighting is the boldest thing one can do. -Billy

Dear Asian Youth, Do you know those childhood memories that just stick with you? No matter how many years go by, they still manage to cut the weight beneath you, leaving your legs lifeless in the air and your mind racing with the words “OH HELL NO”? Memories that make you physically shudder due to the simple embarrassment of the situation that you were placed in? Well. I had one of them today. I was fifteen at the time on one of my annual family trips to Hong Kong when my uncle (who had never muttered a word about my appearance with the exception of the daily “why don’t you exercise?”) told me that my braided pigtails were very “cute” and “traditional Chinese”. I went about my day reasonably happy, glad for once that a positive comment about my appearance was voiced. This all came to a halt at dinner time, when we decided (or rather my uncle, the eldest, decided) to go for seafood at a busy, popular restaurant in the serene Sai-Kung. We had gone with twelve other members of family and close friends. “Are you full?” he asked me. I nodded. Ah yes, that familiar silent (and obedient) nod that I have performed all my life around my uncle. The nod that quietly means that I want to avoid speaking to him as much as possible. “Good, eat less rice and you’ll finally lose weight.” I felt the uncomfortable chuckles that went around the table. The side eyes were unbearably apparent at the time, and I remember distinctly thinking that I wanted to leave; “anywhere but here” was the statement that rang loudly in my head. Something told me that the people around the table agreed with my uncle and that he had simply expressed what was on all their minds. I felt like running, sprinting, aggressively pulling away from the table… maybe even vowing hysterically to everyone that I would never order another bubble tea, eat another single piece of sushi, or grill another bite of K-BBQ ever again. I didn’t want to lose face though. Not in front of my family and most of all not in front of my uncle, who prided himself on being respected: a character who was absolutely without fault in the eyes of his peers. This was regardless of whether he had made me feel unsavoury or not and I knew this; the idea of never “losing face” seemed to be quite prevalent in the Chinese culture that I grew up in. China Mike writes that “Unlike “Western face”– which is more self-oriented and individualistic — Chinese face is more other-directed and relational” and that “the goal of Chinese truth is often to protect the face of an individual, group, or even nation”. It had dawned on me that my uncle, whether subconsciously or not, had used the word “cute” to shame me. I knew that cute was deemed something good in Hong Kong, but would it really apply to me if I was Western, or what they liked to call a “banana”? Probably not. Looking back at it all, yes, I was embarrassed and frustrated at this, but not any more frustrated at my own sheer questioning as to how he had thought that I was overweight at all. I was no bigger in size than any of my white friends who I had grown up with, no larger than some celebrities in Hollywood in fact. And yet, I was deemed fat and therefore could only really ever amount to “cute” on a good day. I recall that night when I laid in my bed, the sheets that would normally envelop me in a loving, silky caress felt different. The sheets were suffocating me. The four walls that surrounded me radiated damp heat that made its way into my throat and clung to the edges like tar. I remember trying and failing to understand the double standards. I couldn’t fathom the obsession with East Asian women being solely cute, and why it was a problem if I was slightly “chubby” and had the audacity to feel beautiful at the same time. Why multiple people I knew in Hong Kong had cited crushes on “voluptuous” women like Scarlett Johansson in Hollywood, but failed to see the appeal of the very same thing in women of their own race. This experience wasn’t helped either when Scarlett Johansson was cast in the film ‘Ghost in the Shell’ as an Asian (more specifically Japanese) cyborg named Major Mira Killian/ Motoko Kusanagi during the mid-twenty-first century. Although this character was claimed to be a robot (therefore needing no ethnicity or race) in efforts to ditch criticism from the public, she was very clearly (to me, anyway) cast due to her privilege as a white woman who fits the world’s beauty standards. This is mainly because of the dominance of Hollywood in worldwide media over the years, the conclusion unsurprisingly being that the majority of the world would prefer a certain ideal/aesthetic over time. It was clear that her beauty and her race would rake in views for the film, as it would have been presumed by the Hollywood casting directors that her name and overall look would have optimised the movie’s success. Time reported that Steven Paul, the producer of the film defended the casting, claiming that “‘There [are] all sorts of people and nationalities in the world in Ghost in the Shell’”. Although defending your own work is understandable, there is a certain accountability ignored when it comes to the influence of the film being in such a large spotlight. The casting perpetuates the idea into viewers’ minds even in the Eastern hemisphere that East Asian women should look whitewashed with Eurocentric features and if not, then they are not the standard in the West nor the East. It was due to these types of misrepresentations that I coined a term that would only prevent me from appreciating a part of my culture to do with beauty. One that I named after months of lingering on this memory in time, the memory that serves a catalyst to my biggest fears: ‘The culture of cute’. It didn’t help that I had countless cousins on my mother’s side who were K-pop consumerists and avid anime/manga watchers/readers from childhood either. We were all completely sucked into the media of the East, just as much as we were to the West. I recall speaking to Martin (one of my male cousins) one night; he had an obsession with a certain female anime character. When I asked him why she was his favourite, he turned to me with his usual deadpan stare and stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, that she was “cute” or rather “kawaii”. My other cousin Ashley to this very day (although now married) insists that he still has a place in his heart for every single ‘Girls Generation’ member, being a proud ‘sone’ since 2009 and insisting every family member has known about it since 2012. However, I always knew that his absolute favourite member was Sunny because she was and still is very much … (wait for it) … cute! It was already clear to me by these points in my life that the idea of wanting to be desired and perceived as someone's favourite, meant that I should aim for cuteness. I never really sat back and thought about how it affected me and my outlook on my own attractiveness, until I had grown older and realised that if something made me feel negative, I didn’t have to stay around for it. As much as I respected and cared for my cousins, I didn’t want to follow their unconscious beliefs on what attractiveness was (and still is), even if it would never change because it was embedded into the society that we were exposed to and influenced by. This is why I believe it is no secret to this day that both of these sectors of the media world in East Asia are largely tied to what I perceive to be ‘the culture of cute’. Growing up as a minority in the western world, I felt alienated at times from my own culture. It seemed like there would be no genuine peace with myself and my ethnicity/background for a while, until time passed and I found myself naturally and gradually becoming okay with being an “overweight” Chinese girl who at a push was cute. Although a lot of changes happened overtime in terms of my outlook on my own beauty, it wasn’t until one particular night that I finally thought enough was enough. One of my non related aunties had come over to visit and as I was pouring tea into her cup, she asked me a question that I had never gotten before. However, it was enough. “Cathay, have you ever considered double eyelid surgery? You would look beautiful with them.” As polite as I seemed when shaking my head and sitting down quietly for the rest of the visit, I felt like I was bubbling beneath the surface. The pot was threatening to spill, however I kept my composure and repeatedly told myself that auntie just wanted the best for me, even if it potentially meant hurting my feelings. My father’s quote “Chinese people will call a spade a spade” when describing the culture was all I had ringing in my head, and it seemed to bring a sense of purpose to the way she was acting, therefore making the comment more bearable. Maybe it was due to my own personal love for my monolids that caused this shift in me. Since my weight was something that I had always been unsure about, it may have been harder to move my opinion on the beauty of the shape of eyes. I had always loved them, so it was only natural that this comment irked me in a different way. I had gotten plenty of compliments from other aunties in the past that complimented how my eyes suited the rest of my face, and how they were unique (in a good way). It had dawned on me that everyone who had ever made a comment on my beauty was subjective. It was masked by their objective tone of voice, which for a lot of my life had fooled me into believing was fact. It all came clear to me that much like my own individuality as a living, breathing, human, being in between cultures was a strength that was unique to me. Although the West had its negatives, it had allowed me to be more of whatever I wanted. Although I could struggle with my weight and appearance limitations wherever I went, it didn’t matter because it was just an arbitrary standard that some outdated people adopted and attempted to enforce onto me, as well as everyone else around them. Cao for Teen Vogue sums it up perfectly for us fellow Asians who grew up in the Western hemisphere: “belonging to two cultures yet not wholly being a part of either, we have been fed two different beauty ideals that make the line between Western standards and our community standards hard to distinguish. It is important to commemorate our heritage, but this year we must use our past to understand all aspects of our communities as we move forward”. To the Asian Youth reading this, I believe that the sooner we start identifying and working on our issues that were caused by our peers and people we respected in our youth, the sooner we can truly find ourselves (as cliche as it sounds) and finally feel like a person who is worth respecting. You can be whatever you wish when you are liberated from ideals that don’t support and accept you. - Cathay Lau Sources: https://www.china-mike.com/chinese-culture/cult-of-face/ https://time.com/4714367/ghost-in-the-shell-controversy-scarlett-johansson/ https://www.teenvogue.com/story/dont-judge-asian-beauty-standards-understand-them

Dear Char Kol, I don’t remember the first time someone asked me if I ate dogs. But I do remember how I felt. I remember telling them that of course, I didn’t eat dogs—I loved dogs. I must’ve been in elementary school at the time, and the question would have come after I told them I was half-Korean. My response was always anger, righteous indignation, then sadness. Then, the wondering if that’s what people thought I ate. That would not be the last time someone would ask that question, I would grow to get used to it. Just like how I would grow used to the wrinkled noses of my classmates at my lunch or the subtle fact that none of my friends ever stayed over for dinner at my house. After the one time I went to a white-owned Korean restaurant, I never went back. It was Tofu House on Sawtelle in Little Osaka in LA, and I distinctly remember it by its kimchi. I’ve never been all that great at handling spice, funnily enough, because all my family is, except for my cousin AJ, who orders his soondubu white. I love you AJ, but really, white soondubu? Tofu House’s kimchi was something bland— something even I wouldn’t consider spicy. Amazing, because I ordered my soondubu mild. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t kimchi. Kimchi, if you don't know, is the Korean National dish which is composed of fermented vegetables and spice unless it’s summer kimchi. Korean parents will tell you it’s good for your health and shove it down your throat, proclaiming you’re “not Korean if you don’t like kimchi.” Up until recently, I’ve never liked kimchi, but I knew what it tasted like because my emos (aunts) would wash off the spice and feed it to me. To take the spice out of kimchi is almost like taking the Korean out of it. There’s something about it that’s just not right, it’s lacking the very thing that makes it Korean. I didn’t grow up as “Korean” as other kids. My mom is Thai and Chinese, and my popo, her mom, helped raise me. But Korean food, to me, was always special— food for when we were celebrating, sick, or when I begged my dad hard enough. It was a sign of better times and excitement. As I got older, Korean food became more commonplace for us, but the Korean food of my childhood was a blessing that my parents would endow. It would be the same when I would visit my Halmonie (grandmother). The only food I would ever eat with her would be Korean food, that is until the last time I saw her, where I would eat Brazilian food for the first time ever. My Halmonie was from Busan, and she lived through it all, everything from the Japanese occupation to the Korean War. Her brother would end up being taken away by the Japanese to either study or work. I don’t really know what happened because no one would speak of it in her presence, even if she couldn’t understand English, and I couldn’t understand anything but English. For her, like too many others, the war never ended. My Halmonie would die at 96 only ever having said one word to me, “cold, brrrr” because we didn’t have the heater on and it was winter in LA. She would die also never having said “I love you”. But she would’ve died cooking for me every time we came to visit, and having cooked salmon most of those times, knowing my love for it. This would end up being more than enough. To Koreans, food is sacred. To most Asians, it is. Modern Korean food was developed between 1900 and 1959 through the Japanese occupation, Korean War, and economic distress. Our food became a sign of our poverty, but it would, later on, become a sign of our success—a ‘look at us, we can take the ugly, the misfit, and make it beautiful.’ Food like budae jiggae became a symbol of Korean identity, or the generational trauma that now defined what it inherently meant to be Korean. My mother loves it for that reason, despite not being Korean. She always taught me that Korean food is wonderful because it takes the worst parts of the cow, what other people throw away, and makes it edible. It’s also what makes it cheaper. Korean food can be expensive, but it’s not made so that the best of it is the most expensive. And for those of us who’ve never been to Korea, food is the way we communicate with our families. It’s the last thing we have even when all other hallmarks of our culture have been stripped away from us. Jook for breakfast, fried chicken for fun, samgyetang for sickness. Enter you, Char Kol, a restaurant in Philadelphia, the most recent offender in a very long line of... disappointing modern/fusion/pan-Asian restaurants opened by white people. I will probably never go to Char Kol, not because of its overpriced items, hellish attempts at hybridising Korean and Japanese culture, offensive name, clear lack of understanding of Korean culture, use of English names like “scallion pancake,” or it’s banchan (small side dishes) which includes western broccoli. But because it’s in Philly, a city I’ve never been to, and likely never will. However, that doesn’t mean the hurt is lessened. To include edamame salads, gyoza, and cherry blossoms in between pajun, and bulgogi, claiming they’re including “traditional Korean” dishes while only having bibimbap on their menu, is wrong. It’s offensive, and it hurts coming from the perspective of a half-Korean who both idolised and was teased for foods that I loved growing up. While I appreciate it when white people want to partake in my culture and love the beauty of it, to attempt at an appreciation where they forget what it means to be Korean, isn’t appreciation. It’s appropriation. Char Kol has done nothing less than this. There are no Korean chefs on their team and seemingly no Korean servers. It is white people benefiting from a culture they know nothing about. I want white people growing to love the parts of Korea they so often ignore, in favour of pop culture aesthetics like our mainstream food, k-pop, k-dramas, and fashion. But you can’t do that without Korean people present, and ignoring our anger about your bastardisation of our food which represents our people only makes it worse. So Char Kol, I ask you to take a step back and think. Think about what you’re doing, what this means, and how your appreciation is nothing less than a colonialist attitude nicely wrapped up in rice. Your removal of gyoza, sapporo, and cherry blossom lanterns are nice, but they’re not all the work you need to do, and there’s a lot more that should be done. I recommend you hire a Korean chef or consultant, in order to help you put that spice back on your menu. Larger than that though, white restaurateurs, like you, should not be allowed to open up Asian “appreciation” restaurants, or fusion places, because they so frequently don’t understand the basics and traditions that our food originates from. White chefs are too often given praise and awards for the “elevation” of “cheap” and “common” dishes that are far from simple or easy to make, another clear sign of white imperialism over the so-called “dirty” or “lesser” cultures. Reviewers like Zagat, the Atlantic, the Infatuation, and Yelp, applaud them for adding a “new flavour” to, or “modernising” previously “simple” dishes. These dishes can take hours at a stove when done correctly and can take years to master properly. Here’s the problem, fusion and modernisation really only works when you know the basics, and to be blunt, I don’t think most white people do. If you want really good examples of modern takes on traditional foods, turn to places like Pearl River Deli as your example. These are affordable places, run by us, in our neighbourhoods, homage to our childhoods and have an appreciation and mastery of the basics that can be clearly seen in all elements of the meal. Learn from the Halmonie’s, the Ahma’s and Popo’s and Nainai’s, and from us who’ve been taught to cook and taste these dishes since we were young. Then feel free to open up these places and work with chefs who are Asian. But until then? Please stop. - Theta Sujung Chun For more on this? Check out Racist Sandwich, this twitter thread, a hilarious short story, why the term “ethnic food” is racist, and everything that happened at Bon Appetit

my mother and i swim in circles of music i think it’s the deepest language in which we know each other she taught me how my fingers should graze across piano keys and how my breath traveled through my body to sing sweet songs, i learned how coarse calluses worked to bend against ringing strings so many lessons blooming and blossoming into who i am today she nimbly flies across black and white notes, while i traverse the halls, a new aria humming through our walls we listen to broadway soundtracks together as we drive, she laughs at lyrics we’ve heard hundreds of times and i try to harmonize she makes jokes about singers and we talk about her time in conservatories i bother her with questions on church modes and she smiles at me my mother and i swim in circles of friendship i think it’s the deepest method in which we know each other she is my first best friend, the first and longest i have ever had she knows my fears and dreams and wishes, more than i know them myself she knows the flicker in my eyes, the dips in my voice, more than i know them myself so many memories blooming and blossoming into who i am today i cannot keep secrets from her, even when i know they’re in my favor- like the time i tore a poster from england, and she taped it back together for me she knows the name of every friend i have ever had and their life story every trivial moment that connects itself through me we watch reruns of shows we’ve seen hundreds of times, staying up until midnight she shushes me as i quote my favorite lines and make quips at characters my mother and i swim in circles of our culture i think it’s the deepest whisper in which we know each other foreign tongues roll through her, like water from a ravine i hear her speak to my grandmother, and i try to mimic the fluidity of her words i watch her hang red decorations for luck, avoiding groups of four, eating mooncakes so many stories blooming and blossoming into who i am today she grew up in latin america, volcanoes rumbling inside and around her and i miss beaches i have never been to, despite being born in water she speaks perfect spanish with strangers, a sense of comfort because she always feels like home to everyone i learned how to roll my tongue, a subtle flip in horchata and longer in perro i recall mountains painted across the sky, and together we breathe in and out my mother and i swim in circles of storms i think it’s the deepest fire in which we know each other i feel like flames convulse within me, and threaten to burn me alive my mother is a soothing spring rain that quenches a silent fury she is a wistful candle that flickers into coolness so many heartaches blooming and blossoming into who i am today sometimes i scorch everything in sight, and my mother whirls through our voices become crackles of lightning, threatening to strike we crash against one another, waves in a tumultuous monsoon our regard turns into our deepest flaws and aching but without fail, we extinguish each other collapsing into steady ripples and serene winds my mother and i swim in circles of patience i think it’s the deepest virtue in which we know each other she has taught hundreds and hundreds of students i have watched some graduate and leave and come back to her i watch a younger generation learn scales and what a pedal is so many legacies blooming and blossoming into who i am today i learned my diligence from her, in most things i do the stroke of my handwritten notes, my yearning for knowledge my stubborn love for writing stories that will take decades to complete but she takes my hand, bearing endurance into me as i find the kindness within me to be a healer to my friends, to accept the things i cannot change and the things i wish i could my mother and i swim in circles of perseverance i think it’s the deepest emotion in which we know each other every fiber of her being expresses it towards me i hold her hand and i think of what it would be like to be without her but it’s too painful to even consider so many moments blooming and blossoming into who i am today we drive on never ending roads, unyielding until darkness prevails we shop at an asian market, stopping for bubble tea and popcorn chicken on the way we spend hours racing through bookshelves, scanning for the perfect novel we gesture to each other, my breaths intertwined with breaks in her playing we prattle continuously, i have told her so much that her ears must bleed and i think that most of all, we swim in circles of love - maddy manning-bi

Pinoy pride has become extremely important in Filipino culture. It is at its strongest when the Philippines gets international representation. Despite this, there are still various insecurities towards Filipino characteristics. Is it really pride? Or is it a desire for international validation? Hubristic pride: The article “The ugly side of Pinoy Pride”, accurately outlines that Filipinos are obsessed with successful international Pinoys, simply because they share the same ethnicity. It is so easy to be proud of international Filipino victories, such as Manny Pacquiao’s boxing legacy or our consistent Miss Universe crowns. However, this often leads to a narcissistic attitude that hides internal shame and insecurities. A study from the University of British Columbia in 2012 discovered that this is called ‘hubristic pride’ - the pride of achieving something because you share similar characteristics. It’s like an unbalanced group project; only one person does all the hard work, but the rest of the group still shares the success because they were lucky enough to be in the same group. Interestingly, the research found that hubristic pride creates a sense arrogance and superiority, often leading to racism and harmful prejudices. This was particularly evident in the most recent Miss Universe competition. The current South African Miss Universe titleholder Zozibini Tuni was swarmed with shocking racist comments that were clearly fueled by colorism from Filipino netizens. Such attitudes are not only demonstrated towards other marginalized groups, but also to other fellow Filipinos. Colonial mentality: Pinoy pride is usually absent when it comes to celebrating authentic Filipina beauty. We may be victorious in numerous beauty pageants, but most of our ‘representatives’ are either half white or mestiza (fair) with Eurocentric features. The Philippine media further perpetuates this rigid beauty standard, constantly advertising skin-whitening brands. Teleseryes even go as far as ridiculing dark-skinned characters. Insecurities about typical Filipino features such as morena (tan) skin and flat noses is a product of colonialism. The Philippines was under Spanish and American colonization for more than 300 years. Inevitably, western beauty standards infiltrated Filipino culture and continues to be glorified today. Having long straight silky hair, a high nose and fair skin has become the ideal for many Filipinas. This can be toxic. At the age of 5 I was already being told to pinch my Filipino nose for it to become ‘pointier’. The colonial mindset has also resulted in a greater desire to become ethnically ambiguous. Many Filipinos eagerly identify themselves as ‘a quarter’ Spanish, even though their greatest grandparents do not have an ounce of Spanish blood. Where is the Pinoy pride? Authentic Pride: Needless to say, it is extremely important to be proud of our culture. It unites the nation and is the ultimate expression of nationalism. However, we should try and avoid ultranationalism. We shouldn’t only be proud when the Philippines has been recognized on the international stage. We should always be proud. It’s also important for us to accept and love our true Filipina identities. There is no point in Pinoy pride if you are embarrassed of your Filipino characteristics or are reluctant to admit that you are purely Filipino. Learning to embrace your Filipino-ness is the most authentic pride there is. As a Filipina, I've noticed that we Filipino patriotism is the strongest when we are recognised internationally. However, while we are the most proud, I have also noticed that there's a lot of self-hatred towards our Filipino identities. My article explores the reality of toxic pride and the irony of how many 'proud' Filipinos resent their identity. Biography: My name is Chelsea Najera and I am young Filipina girl living in the UK. Social justice issues are extremely important to me, and as an Asian I want to use my platform to educate and inform others about Asian culture and the problems that our community faces. I also love fashion and I write a lot of fashion commentary and articles! Instagram: Personal @chelsyves & Fashion account @dreamyjacques Sources: https://opinion.inquirer.net/86258/the-ugly-side-of-pinoy-pride https://news.ubc.ca/2012/04/12/pride-and-prejudice-pride-impacts-racism-and-homophobia/

Dear Asian Youth, On August 11, 2020, Russian president Vladimir Putin announced that Russia had created the first COVID-19 vaccine: Sputnik V. Sound familiar? Well that is because, according to Sputnik V’s website, “In 1957 the successful launch of the first space satellite by the Soviet Union reinvigorated space research around the world. The new Russian COVID-19 vaccine is therefore called Sputnik V.” When I heard this, my first reaction was speechless. This kind of news is beyond inspiring, especially during such a time when there seems to be no foreseeable end to the pandemic. However, as an educated citizen of society, or perhaps being an American skeptic, I feel that there is more to uncover. Creating a vaccine is a timely and meticulous process. From creation, testing, and finally distribution, it can take up to years at a time. However, scientists around the world have already begun to cut out steps and shorten the process in hopes that a COVID-19 vaccine can come out in 12-18 months. This may feel like a long time, but think about it: how willing are we, as individuals and as a population, to put a comparably untested strain of attenuated virus in our bodies? For myself and many others, the answer is we are not—the risks and unknowns are too consequential. But when we look at Russia’s vaccine, many are skeptical they underwent the Phase 3 trials: where the vaccine is administered to thousands of volunteers to test effectiveness, risks, last, side effects, and so much more. According to Jon Cohen at Science Magazine, the vaccine has only been tested on 76 people, significantly lower than what we would hope for a life-saving cure. little information is known or has been gathered in support of the vaccine being viable. On a large scale, something deceptive like this could create public distrust in vaccines. Already, there are false claims towards links between vaccines and autism, the use of aluminum, and the pure effectiveness of it. Despite the confounding timeline, Russia claims they have not skipped steps. Kirill Dmitriev is the CEO of the Russian Direct Investment Fund created under the Russian government in 2011 to make investments in leading companies. As an affluent member in society, he asserts that “Russian science is [simply] more advanced in this [area] than many other nations”. According to President Putin, the vaccine “works quite effectively, forms strong immunity, and I repeat, it has passed all the needed checks”, not to mention, he claims his daughter has already received it as well. Despite these affirmations, many are worried about this vaccine, not only in terms of its scientific impacts, but political ones as well. Surprisingly, there is much political background and incentive for Putin to put out such a vaccine. Previously, Putin had bragged about the effectiveness of Russia’s Ebola vaccine, when in fact very few people used it. Now, it seems as if, at a time when the world seems weak, it is Russia’s time to cut a piece of the vaccine cake from the US and China. A big announcement like this not only encourages and builds Russian morale but also shows off the scientific achievements as a sort of turn-around from its current situation.With this ongoing conflict, it creates what Vox has called “vaccine nationalism”, where global communities push their processes faster and faster to be the first and gain pride and recognition for their nation. This encourages groups to cut corners and, as previously stated, can create distrust. In addition, Russia has, compared to its neighbors, handled and contained the pandemic poorly, only supplementing the doubts many people have toward their president. However, this situation has extended beyond the three superpowers; other countries are willing to try out this vaccine as well. Around 20 countries have expressed an interest in Russia’s vaccine, with Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte even saying he, himself would “guinea pig” the vaccine. This, whether intentional or unintentional, is an excellent chance for Russia to make diplomatic ties and strengthen the sphere of influence. Despite all of this, not many experts are very worried this will encourage other organizations to quicken their processes. If anything, it may be a fight for “the most effective vaccine,” rather than the first. There are too many uncertainties in Russia’s vaccine: how much it will cost, how it will be distributed, the sheer effectiveness of it etc. What is important right now is that we stay safe and keep our bodies healthy by wearing masks and practicing social distancing—the vaccine will arrive in its own time. - Allison Li

TW: mention of weight, dieting Dear Asian Youth, It’s the fourth Thursday of November. As the sun gradually sinks below the horizon, a lone car traverses a residential road. You’re in the back seat, your elbow propped against finger-smudged glass. Vibrations rush up your arm, the tingles signifying a world constantly in motion, but you’ve never wished more fervently for the ability to stop time in its tracks. Staring out the window, you see, but don’t quite comprehend, the outside world. While multi-colored leaves adorn tree after tree to paint a picturesque scene of autumnal beauty, you’ve long been dreading this day. Years of tortuous Thanksgiving dinners with your family have left you with deep, emotional scars. The car pulls up to a driveway—a driveway that extends to a porch, that leads to a front door, that opens to a house with only painful memories. As you step out onto solid concrete, you pull your coat tighter to your chest, but the crisp autumn air has nothing to do with the shiver that passes through your body, nor the nerves that have accumulated in your gut. The doorbell rings. Immediately, the door swings open, revealing aunts and uncles, first and second cousins, and grandmothers and grandfathers. You’re swept up into a whirlwind of greeting people you only know by association, many of whom you only see once or twice a year. A gathering should be a joyous event, but you know better. As the greetings start, so do the comments. “You should start watching what you eat.” “How much do you weigh now?” “Are you on a diet?” Remarks such as these are forgotten by the relatives who utter them, but any semblance of an appetite you had mere hours ago has immediately dissipated. All you can do is smile, ignoring the burning hot shame pooling in your stomach, resisting the urge to hunch over and make yourself as small as humanly possible. After all, this is your family. While not a universal experience among all Asian youth, such unsolicited, objectifying remarks—often under a veil of helpful “advice”—are remarkably common. Within the Asian household, food is a way to bond over one’s heritage, but having leftovers on your plate is seen as offensive, even if your stomach is filled far past the point of satiety, even if you’re on your fourth or fifth serving of vegetables only because your aunt keeps forcefully loading your plate with broccoli. “Oh, no thank you,” you might say, the heaping pile of food before you making your stomach churn in protest. But it’s all for naught. You’re stuck—the very people who tell you to eat more simultaneously shame you for not being skinnier. There was a time when excess rolls were seen as baby fat, when chubbiness was deemed cute. Over the years, remarks proclaiming your “adorableness” have petered out in both frequency and sincerity. Comments have transitioned from Wow, you’re getting so big! to Oh… you’re getting big—the same words, but entirely different sentiments. Food-centric gatherings such as Thanksgiving meals, Christmas dinners, and family reunions are often wrought with unsolicited remarks targeted towards Asian youth—and towards teenage girls, in particular. While we have made vast strides to promote body positivity in the Western sphere, the Asian community still has a long way to go. The message is clear: fast metabolisms, tiny frames, and naturally narrow waists reign supreme. As a whole, Asian culture both praises the ability to stay thin while eating vast amounts of—often unhealthy—cuisine, and belittles all those who inevitably fall short. The rise of the internet has exacerbated physical insecurities to new levels, and the typical modern teenager has a much more complex relationship with their body than in times past. With increasing accessibility to social media platforms such as Youtube, Instagram, and most concerningly, TikTok., the age of exposure to potentially triggering content has been steadily decreasing. Because the content on such applications goes largely unmonitored, it is all too easy to unintentionally promote terribly unhealthy lifestyle habits and disordered behavior, such as chronic undereating and excessive exercise. Content geared towards the fitspo and thinspo ideologies and videos with titles like “What I Eat in a Day” indirectly promote an unhealthy relationship with one’s body. Young teenagers find themselves viewing conventionally attractive people their age on screen and comparing themselves to oftentimes unsustainable lifestyles. To a larger extent, globalization within the modern context has perpetuated the popularization of Eastern media within the Western sphere, such examples being K-pop and K-dramas. While it’s true that many Asian males have noted that seeing more Asian men in the media has actually boosted their confidence, a number of their female counterparts declare otherwise. In Korea, the ideal height for women is 162 cm (5’4’’) and the ideal weight is 42 kg (93 lbs.), which is on the verge of being dangerously unhealthy. Yes, representation is important. Yes, many Asian women naturally have petite frames and slim waists, and these features hold inherent charm and appeal. However, it’s important to note that within the glorified world of K-pop, the relationships that female artists have with their bodies is anything but healthy. For instance, Grazy Grace, a notable artist in the industry, was contractually obligated to weekly weight checks and was forbidden from gaining even a quarter of a pound. Many young girls who idolize these artists fail to realize what goes on behind these closed doors. There is nothing glorious in purposeful starvation. In twenty-first century Asia, a “homogenous physical aesthetic [still] reigns supreme.” To see the media’s idea of beauty synonymous with being thin is incredibly damaging to those who don’t fit that mold. And yet, those who do fit into the Asian idea of “normative thinness” don’t escape entirely unscathed. Body types unfortunately go in and out of style, and the hourglass figure has made a comeback in American society. With the Asian household generally enforcing that skinniness is synonymous with good looks and the Western realm largely idealizing curvier body types, my body will never be viewed as “perfect.” Unsurprisingly, these conflicting cultural standpoints are a breeding ground for dissatisfaction with one’s looks, especially for the—often impressionable—demographic of teenage girls. The National Eating Disorders Association reveals that Asian and Caucasian youth allegedly attempt to lose weight at similar rates. However, the American Psychological Association reports that Asian Americans are three times less likely to seek mental health services than their white counterparts due to the mental health stigma in the Asian community. As a consequence, Asian youth end up suffering in silence, and eating disorders and struggles with mental health are overlooked. I admit that I have the body type that many young Asian girls seek but will never attain. Genetics has blessed me with a tiny frame and a rapid metabolism that offsets my voracious appetite. For me, the more pressing consequence of eating my weight at an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant is a debilitating food coma. However, I still remember all-too-well what it was like to be a thirteen-year-old girl, wrought with uncertainty and insecurity. I remember staring at myself in the mirror, scrutinizing every perceived roll or jiggle of fat. I remember how hyper-aware I was of how my thighs would flatten and widen as I sat down at my desk in school, how my calves naturally curved as I walked. One day, I decided to make a drastic change: I would completely cut out all forms of sugar from my diet, except for those naturally-occurring in fruits and vegetables. Obviously, this radical lifestyle change wasn’t sustainable in the long-term. I said no to cupcakes and candies, survived the withdrawal symptoms, and lasted a whole two months before I realized that I was miserable. While I’d be the first to tell you that the human body does adjust to a diet without sugar, I missed being able to satisfy my sweet tooth by ingesting cookies and chocolate. My weight was the same, because I simply hadn’t needed to lose any in the first place. I was a size zero, yet wanted to be smaller. So why was I torturing myself by refusing sweets in moderation? Shortly after deciding to once more open up my culinary palette, I entered high school. Many people fail to realize that people come into high school as fourteen-year-olds and leave as fully-fledged adults. Something that is so obvious, yet so many people don’t acknowledge is that weight gain during these formative years is normal. Especially for teenage girls: even if your height doesn’t change, it’s not uncommon to gain a few pounds or develop more curves. Our bodies are still developing and growing, and that’s a sign of being healthy, not being fat or ugly. And now, as I look back on pictures of my younger, insecure self, I realize that it was all in my head. I know that body confidence isn’t easy. Oftentimes, it’s a long, arduous battle to just reach a stage of acceptance. To the girls desperate to shed some pounds so the remarks from their family will finally stop, my heart goes out to you. To the girls constantly belittled by their peers for their lack of curves, I feel for you. To the girls struggling with unexpected weight gain, it doesn’t take away from your self-worth. Beauty is more than the number on the scale or the size of your jeans. It’s in the crinkles of your eyes and your open-mouthed laugh, extensions of your wholehearted, unabashed joy; it’s in your quick mind and your full heart. Whether it’s been a while since someone’s last told you or you hear these words every day, you are beautiful. - Justine Torres Sources: https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/it-s-not-worth-it-young-women-how-tiktok-has-n1234193 https://www.koreaboo.com/stories/kpop-altered-fan-perception-body-image-unhealthy-way/ https://www.cosmopolitan.com/entertainment/celebs/a31088096/k-pop-dark-side-exploitation/ https://wearyourvoicemag.com/body-image-body-positive-movement-southeast-asia-asia-pacific/ https://www.bodybanter.com/soar-with-steph/clothing-sizes https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/people-color-and-eating-disorders https://www.apa.org/pi/oema/resources/ethnicity-health/asian-american/article-mental-health

Girls who play Guqin have beautiful hands. Pale long fingers dancing—swaying, flickering —across the strings of woven silk. The sound echoes in your bones. The resonance of steel —a river coursing through earth. Yet so very soft, tender. —smoke lingering in air. Like bamboo. White silk on the gown of an Empress. Melodies transcending dynasties— The sky and the soil are held in everything we make; the earth breathes in the pentatonic scale. This, I take pride in. But these are roots that will never feel like my own. Disconnection is the color of china blue. Cerulean veins on milk white urns— the kind of stillness that you hold your breath in the presence of. Cold. Like my mother’s Qipao. Fine blue and white chafes against my body: a pebble weathered by another sea. Cold as my skin is warm. Unmixing as oil and water. My name means knowing peace. Jia Wen. It carries the weight of an ocean: Bliss; serenity at the bottom of a lake. Its consonants are gentle, Tailored to take flight from one’s lips like a loving whisper. Yet the way it disconnects from my own pricks of foreign air. ‘300 Poems of the Tang Dynasty’. Summer evenings with my mother at the small kitchen table as she teaches me to recite each verse. I sought escape then. Peeled at the shriveled paint underneath the chair. I can no longer read those delicate lines. The language is still my own but its characters, its intimacy have slipped through the cracks of my memory. In the glass box I keep, a collection of recollections, unreleased. I take them out and run my fingers over the pages. These are the things I used to know. And yet Feeling escapes past disconnection. Heng Shui —steady waters is the name of my Grandmother’s hometown. The spices of that place The bamboo flute My father’s dialect touches my bones in a way that nothing ever could. And so My hands fall through the longing as they fall through shui muo paintings: transient ink and mist. The knowledge that my heritage exists ingrained in me Never to touch, only to keep—wisps that surround me, protect me. A river through earth, smoke lingering in air. The way it should be. And so, The sound of the Guqin is homesickness. 乡思 A nostalgia for a hometown so very past. And every so often, for a time you have never lived.

For most of my life I’ve been hiding by shields Hiding by the dream-like word of: American. It shines like a glittering beacon off the shore So sure, I stood by it, weary in its warmth. It starts with my kin and the gold on their faces, how they faded themselves into fated addresses Year after year until they were dull. Accents and languages started to pale We dropped extra letters and mailed ourselves off. Names like “Sadati” can cram between lines But “Sadati-Sohi” gets stuck on the tongue. Its better forgotten, like dust on Persian rugs, Than out in the light, where it doesn’t even fit in the flow of this poem… Lighten everything: Hair, skin, the words on your tongue. This is America so lessen the load. You know how hard it is for them to keep loud, brown women in the palm of their hands. So scrub yourself down, Your goals, your face, your mind. Wash yourself away until you’re transparent. And maybe, if you’re lucky, you can just be “exotic”. Shield yourself: From the sun, from your history, from the idea of alienation Iranian American became “ethnically ambiguous” And enough buying, learning, and acting Can finally push down our differences. We mask who we are and put on a show., We live in a lie and pride in our pretend. A circus that we think is a theater The white man’s jesters think that they’re kings. I poured bleach into my second-grade lunchbox, trying to cover the truth and trying to turn my insides white I stared in the mirror waiting for a pair of blue eyes to start staring back. I wanted to see oceans with beacons on their shores. But instead I saw darkness And instead of fading into whiteness, I landed on the beach. The sand of my kin is replaced by the crashing waves of California. White water washes over me, Eroding a bit of a past life with every change in tide. A cruel, petty sun hangs over me from the horizon I wonder if these same rays had brought my parents to America And I wonder if that beacon was really just a mirror? And if all of us keep changing because we never liked what we saw in the reflection? This is my experience as a Middle Eastern person in the United States. I have searched to find labels, communities, and identities that best matched my own experience. As I've learned more about my people, I've observed their strengths, flaws, and the unique ways we interact with those around us. American Reflections is a collection of my thoughts. Biography: Hi! I am a 15 year old sophomore from Southern California and am passionate about history, writing, politics, and social issues. I love learning and gaining perspective from other people's lives. I use poetry to answer the questions I have struggled with thought my life. I hope you enjoy and you can find me @eileensadati on instagram.

you meet him online, and he gives off no red flags yet you’re an asian girl scared of being fetishized by a white boy with yellow fever he seems nice, friendly; you like the same movies, you have mutual friends you trust him completely, naively you smile as you accept his request, not thinking too much of it. he compares you to his favorite characters, mai from avatar? you think that you look nothing like her nothing. he looks like a character with brown hair and eyes, one who actually acts like him too but you get into an argument, he’s mad that you compared him to a cartoon character isn’t that what you did when you said i was like mai? you say sorry anyways he does not. he tells you that something about you just reminds him of her is it the black roots of your hair peeking out under the dye? no, it must be the personality, no it’s just because you’re asian isn’t it? he says it’s not, it’s definitely something else, something he can’t name, and you believe him you let yourself find comfort in being wanted. you are so beautiful, he says why do you dye and curl your black hair? you would be so much prettier with your natural look start dressing more alternative, no, not that style where you wear big pants and polos and turtlenecks. why don’t you wear those schoolgirl skirts and show your skin a little more? you refuse, and he is disappointed you could’ve looked like yumeko, or like those asian girls in the pornography he watches it’s a warning sign, but you ignore it. you’re used to being treated like this now. it is strange see who he follows on social media all of the models are asian they look nothing like you—you have large hips and stretch marks those girls are thin and smiling in their bikinis, but, nevertheless, they’re asian like you it’s a coincidence. guys are so weird, you say before you turn off your phone you sleep restlessly, thinking about whether he looks at their pictures or yours from his phone. he says he likes strong women, but it seems like a lie you are usually so opinionated, so brash and loud around him, though, you change. you curse less, speak less, respond with those cute emojis he likes that make you feel uncomfortable more even a strong woman has to be quiet sometimes, right? he likes this more. he thinks you are cute and submissive, like his perception of a geisha you start to realize that this is not you anymore. you cry yourself to sleep, silently, like always. you start feeling like a sex object. why doesn’t he want to hear about your day, your passions? he only wants to text you when your parents are asleep and your door is locked. in the dark, the phone illuminates your face, and you feel so ashamed goodnight, i love you, before he goes to bed you feel dirty. just another sleepless night, feeling gouged out and used up. he leaves you for another girl she is also asian, and pretty, and looks a tiny bit like you then he texts you again, he left her what are you doing? are you free? ignore him, ignore him, ignore him, do not reply. yes, i’m free. i missed you. how have you been? you are finally done with him. you have endured half a year of being objectified and fetishized. he saw you as an exotic enchantress, with almond eyes and a mean glint but a soft spot for him no, now you are a dragon lady, just plain mean as you hurl insults at him, rip into him with your truth you are such a bitch. you are not who i thought you were. i never even liked you i thought you were pretty and sweet, but you’re fake he probably thought you giggled with your hands covering your mouth to please him again, you tell him you do not care, he did nothing but try to destroy you goodbye. he is blocked from your life, i am sorry i said everything on my mind no, actually, i am not sorry at all you feel like yourself again you smile, wickedly, he might describe, and you sleep soundly, with no nightmares you were in there this whole time just waiting, weren’t you? you cry again, but it is not silent. it is a loud wail, it echoes in your room, but you are free. finally. goodnight, dragon lady.

Dear Asian Youth, The pressure to be perfect is a human-made crisis, instilled upon every individual since their childhood. From the desire to be likeable, to vying for the highest test grades, to being compared alongside peers—we have all wanted to meet these societal standards. By doing so and subconsciously promoting this, we are hurting ourselves and even risk the possibility of passing on the harm to future generations. A fine line distinguishes motivation and high pressure—a line crossed far too often, causing great amounts of anxiety to those who are inflicted; one of the leading causes of anxiety is an accumulation of stress buildup that causes burnout. The Yerkes-Dodson Law, states one’s level of performance alongside stress can be represented by a bell curve, with peak performance available beside a medium amount of stress. Once the quantity of stress is increased or decreased from the optimal middle, performance levels decrease with the extremes. The Yerkes-Dodson Law of stabilizing selection is a perfect example of the distinction between motivation and burdening pressure; alternatively, the term, “stress,” does not deserve a negative connotation. However, it is the quantities of stress that can cause either complete boredom or severe mental anxiety. Motivating is an action that initiates a spark of encouragement, but this spark can easily turn into a flame and burn down the sane walls of a human if it is left to burn. There are many causes that can be either direct or indirect fuel for “human burnout.” Whether it be physical or mental, personal health should be the top priority of every individual. Yet, many cannot afford to take care of themselves because of personal needs. Through obligations and outside responsibilities, overall well-being is usually not one’s first concern. This leads to an onset of disorganization and has the potential to physically harm a person, due to a lack of awareness about personal health. The mental and physical impacts of high pressure can be seen in all age groups. While a person’s surrounding stressors are difficult to actively avoid, it is pertinent to take some time to individually reflect and perform your own “health check up” on yourself often. While this action may sound trivial in the short-term, the benefits overweigh the negatives immensely, as being “in touch” with yourself increases mindfulness and a sense of self-acceptance. We have been raised to acclimate to pressurizing standards, and from this, we set expectations for ourselves. Such expectations can push people to their boundaries and decrease the vitality of a person. Many do not realize that everyone has their own unique limits. When I use the term “limits,” I do not mean to promote self or society imposed restrictions—I mean to say that we all have a natural breaking point where our toil turns into exhaustion, when our strive turns to strain. There are many stressors that people cannot control for themselves. This increases the societal network, where someone may be the cause of your increased stress while you might be the reason of another person’s heightened strain. An example of this can be seen in how working parents receive pressure from their workplaces to excel at their jobs, and they may subconsciously mirror this onto how they treat their own children to meet academic or curricular standards. This is why it is extremely critical to keep in mind the actions that you make and the results of these actions, as to not hurt or burden another person. The famous Golden Rule states, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (Luke 6:31). Negative actions are unnecessary evils that are levied upon us and that we enact upon others, causing an overall despondency within society. The only way to rectify this is to start with yourself. Take a good look at your daily routine. How many times in a day do you engage in arguments that you regret later on? By being mindful of how you act, both you and the people around you will benefit from such positivity. After learning the Golden Rule through reading famous fables and listening to experiences from other people, I have kept this moral very close in my heart and I cherish it greatly. I believe that such a lesson can and should be instilled in our general society today. It is also important to address that the term “fighting” does not necessarily always lie in violence and pessimistic actions. Actions, such as relating to ethical concerns or advocating for what you believe in are necessary to pursue individuality within society. Being an activist for moral circumstances while acknowledging the opinions of others does not relate to an onset of negative stress in society, rather a positive pressure for a change. The need to bring this resolution to surface is crucial to clear any misunderstanding that may arise. Some may think that the psychology of the human mind -the way we think, behave, and believe—is difficult to perceive with one human brain. Others may anticipate that this process of understanding is quite simple. Nonetheless, I will leave such an interpretation up to you. Acknowledge that you are an entity. Maintain that you have the ability to transform a pessimistic moment into an optimistic future. Consider the fact that the world needs your good energy, just like it needs mine and the positivity of people around you, therefore achieving the Golden Rule. - Prerna