excerpts from journal and reading list (2021-2022)

However much the realm of diary-keeping has been a female experience that has often kept us closeted writers, away from the act of writing as authorship, it has most assuredly been a writing act that intimately connects the art of expressing one’s feeling on the written page with the construction of self and identity, with the effort to be fully self-actualized. This precious powerful sense of writing as a healing place where our souls can speak and unfold has been crucial to women’s development of a counter-hegemonic experience of creativity within patriarchal culture. Significantly, diary writing has not been traditionally seen by literary scholars as subversive autobiography, as a form of authorship that challenges conventional notions about the primacy of confessional writing as mere documentation (for women most often a record of our sorrows). Yet in the many cases where such writing has enhanced our struggle to be self-defining it emerges as a narrative of resistance, as writing that enable us to experience both self-discovery and self-recovery.

bell hooks’s “remembered rapture: the writer at work”

12/28/21: I get a call from the hospital social worker. A wave of strong emotions washes through me. Whereas a younger self would have been left completely undone by this pummel of waves radiating from my emotionally fraught relationship with my father, my spirit feels more sturdy to withstand and accept this present situation. Talking with my brother afterwards, I realize that he has grown a lot, too. The observation that we are both talking openly and candidly about my father, speaks volumes to how transformative this journey continues to be.

What is family? Beyond being a group of individuals who may be tied together by threads of blood, law, choice, and other narratives – perhaps family is in some ways a gift, a mirror, an identity, a home, a wound, a challenge, or an ever-iterative, open-ended dialogue about what it means to love. 

12/30/21: My detachment to my father – or rather, to forcing outcomes around his recovery, care, and the status of our relationship – grows. Instead, I find myself turning towards the practice of being present and living fully in the moment with no expectations.

I relinquish my ego and turn to our shared humanity in order to let go of a self-protective clinging unto control and instead, accept reality as it is – to stop denying what is true: the past 2-3 years of my father’s life have been rife with traumatic experiences ranging from a difficult divorce, suffering a stroke and being diagnosed with cancer shortly afterwards, and fighting against housing insecurity as insurance, healthcare, and state agencies have all pressured my father to accept elder poverty and displacement from community as prerequisites for accessing funding for long-term care. My father has both a strong will to live and a strong will to die, and perhaps these dueling drives have existed long before COVID-19 pushed our world into yet another collective reckoning over the soul and future of our shared humanity. And I no longer have any more solutions (defenses?) to appease nor soothe this grief that pools over us all.

Stronger than her will to die was her will to endure, especially when she thought she was being tested. This was the most Korean trait about her, her intense desire to die and survive at the same time, drives that didn’t cancel each other out but stood in confluence…

Cathy Park Hong’s “Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning”

12/31/21: The last day of 2021 is already here. I wake up with a desire to strengthen my body, eat more nourishing foods, and overall grow my health. Restarting a yoga practice has been helping me sleep more peacefully, and I begin having pleasant dreams again. I don’t remember the content, but I feel my mind and spirit growing lighter through the night: a shedding of burdens. I wake up alone without the usual din of urgency. I am simply here and present to face the day.

This morning, I woke up with this lingering realization that I no longer have a strong, reactive desire to escape my life — that is, my familial duties, work expectations, political turmoil, spiritual exile of being a queer woman of color and eldest daughter of immigrants navigating spaces shaped by christian supremacy, heteropatriarchy, U.S. colonialism, and capitalism to name a few totalizing forces. Instead, having built up a store of grounding strategies, resources, and support, I feel more at peace and ready to live in the moment. 

Suddenly the words “Can you drink the cup? pierced my heart like the sharp spear of a hunter. I knew at that moment—as with a flash of insight—that taking this question seriously would radically change our lives. It is the question that has the power to crack open a hardened heart and lay bare the tendons of the spiritual life.

“Can you drink the cup? Can you empty it to the dregs? Can you taste all the sorrows and joys? Can you live your life to the full whatever it will bring?” I realized these were our questions.”

Henri Nouwen’s “Can you Drink the Cup?”

I have less of an urge this morning to erase my father completely from my life, to deny the reality of our shared history and connection. And at the same time, I also realized that I can still maintain my boundaries and no longer subject myself to the unpredictable whims of his lashing out and rage. By growing a detachment towards my father and no longer needing him to become someone he is not, I can now navigate how to love my father from a distance and also be honest with myself about the parts of him (and by reflection, me) that I do not love.

Recently, my brother also spoke up to defend me against my father as he had begun another verbal tirade during which he blamed every person, mostly women, in his life for his pain. Looking back, I wonder if this moment is one of the first times my brother acknowledged and actively supported me in my father’s presence.

1/1/22: To sit in discomfort and such intimate quarters with another person’s misery, knowing full well that you cannot (and should not) rescue them from their broken heart nor bottle up their grief unending, or even your own. To let what needs to flow, flow.

1/3/22: What I did and thought today, a list:

1. Finding an assisted living facility that will accept an individual with an active/recent substance use history is challenging. Every conversation with assisted living facilities, hospitals, and social workers can be boiled down to one fundamental task: to clarify what my father is looking for in his coordination of care and housing. For my father, this question remains unanswered.
2. On forgiveness, letting go, and moving on: How sweet it is to join a weekly yoga/meditation call with Melissa Alexis (Cultural Fabric), and to be welcomed into a space of practice with older women. We are all caregivers in some way, and we are all looking for grounding and cleansing of our energy fields during these difficult times. We can refuse consent to do and hold what the world demands, and we can nurture ourselves to be filled with “light, love, and compassion for all sentient beings.” (Related: Thich Nhat Hanh’s “The First Precept: Reverence for Life”)

Anger as Fire: 3/19/21 Reflections

화나다 [to grow in anger]

화 [火] [fire]

나다 [to appear/grow]

Today, I woke up with a hungry fire in my belly. Almost every night this week, I had gone to bed inflamed. My mind, body, and spirit continue to reel from the shootings in Atlanta: yet another act of White supremacist violence against Asian women. This relentless cycle of rage and grief caused from living under siege of structural violence while having one’s suffering as an Asian American woman oftentimes invisibilized or gaslit (thank you to a wise friend for reminding me of this), is an exhausting and lonely experience. This fire, this anger, is not a new feeling for me, but it usually remains dormant, like sooty coals shoved underneath the rug of my consciousness.

Since I was young, I had been socialized to deny and suppress my anger, as well as the warning signs that my body was telling me for so long, about how the environment around me was unlivable and untenable. Survival mode had been my go-to mode of daily living for as long as I could remember, so my journey of healing and re-defining my relationship to anger has been a gradual and revelatory one. In a household where patriarchy and misogyny were the unspoken rules of conduct, I grew up fearing for my safety if I were to ever challenge my father’s gendered expectations or stoke his anger, oftentimes amplified by his alcoholism. He verbally lashed out at family members on a regular basis, held emotional landmines within his silences and stonewalling, and also disowned his children on a whim, only to revert to feigned ignorance that such violent interactions had ever happened in the first place. His manipulation left everyone walking on eggshells, and any type of physical or emotional contact that he initiated – a hug, a hand on the shoulder, a “How are you?” – would send chills down my spine. As I navigated this tense familial landscape, I learned early on that my gender identity as a woman added another layer of silencing and precarity to my Asian American lived experience.

Father’s drinking became the family secret. While growing up, we children never breathed a word of it beyond the four walls of our house. To this day, my brother and sister rarely mention it, and then only when I press them. I did not confess the ugly, bewildering fact to my wife until his wavering and slurred speech forced me to. Recently, on the seventh anniversary of my father’s death, I asked my mother if she ever spoke of his drinking to friends. “No, no, never,” she replied hastily. “I couldn’t bear for anyone to know.

The secret bores under the skin, gets in the blood, into the bone, and stays there. Long after you have supposedly been cured of malaria, the fever can flare up, the tremors can shake you. So it is with the fevers of shame. You swallow the bitter quinine of knowledge, and you learn to feel pity and compassion toward the drinker. Yet the shame lingers and, because of it, anger.

Sanders, Scott Russell. Under the Influence: Paying the Price for my Father’s Booze.

Anger is oftentimes described as a “protector of raw feelings” and a secondary emotion that speaks to a primary experience of pain. For Koreans and the Korean diaspora, there is also a culturally-bound phenomenon of 한 [han] which stems from an intergenerational transmission of pain and trauma, oftentimes connected to oppression:

Han is the inexpressibly entangled experience of pain and bitterness imposed by the injustice of oppressors… Han is the void of grief that the suffering innocent experiences. When grief surpasses its sensibility line, it becomes a void. This void is not a mere hollowness, but an abyss filled with agony. Han is the abyss of the dark night of grief.

Park, Andrew Sung. Racial Conflict and Healing: An Asian-American Theological Perspective. Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 1996. p.9. Quoted from Dominick, Judy Wu. Collective Han: A Framework for Understanding Race Riots and the White Response.

There have been a few research studies that noted a higher prevalence among older Korean women and Korean immigrants in the United States who develop 화병[火病] [fire syndrome], which can, if left unaddressed, manifest in severe physical and psychological symptoms. Perhaps this increase in women experiencing [fire syndrome] is, in part, a manifestation of their whole-self resistance and refusal to be silenced by the oppression and violence that has indelibly shaped their lives. Anger as empowerment, as refusing to take the status quo as it is, nor lose oneself within the dehumanizing realities of structural violence.

Definition: 억울한 일을 당했거나 한스런 일을 겪으며 쌓인 화를 삭이지 못해 생긴 몸과 마음의 질병. [Translated: Illness of the body and mind caused by the inability to soothe anger accumulated from suffering unfair and oppressive conditions/matters.]

한국민족문화대백과사전 (화병(火病))

Anger as fire:

Fire as sacred and life-giving, a powerful and spiritual force that compels, clarifies, illuminates, and refines.

Anger as a sometimes painful, but necessary and vital component of a holistic, empowered emotional life as human beings.

For me, my long-suppressed anger was never completely extinguished. Oftentimes hibernating as coals, my anger remained warm to the touch and on high alert, ready to move me to action:

Every woman has a well-stocked arsenal of anger potentially useful against those oppressions, personal and institutional, which brought that anger into being. Focused with precision it can become a powerful source of energy serving progress and change. And when I speak of change, I do not mean a simple switch of positions or a temporary lessening of tensions, nor the ability to smile or feel good. I am speaking of a basic and radical alteration in those assumptions underlining our lives.

….

I speak here as a woman of Color who is not bent upon destruction, but upon survival. No woman is responsible for altering the psyche of her oppressor, even when that psyche is embodied in another woman. I have suckled the wolfs lip of anger and I have used it for illumination, laughter, protection, fire in places where there was no light, no food, no sisters, no quarter. We are not goddesses or matriarchs or edifices of divine forgiveness; we are not fiery fingers of judgment or instruments of flagellation; we are women forced back always upon our woman’s power. We have learned to use anger as we have learned to use the dead flesh of animals, and bruised, battered, and changing, we have survived and grown and, in Angela Wilson’s words, we are moving on. With or without uncolored women. We use whatever strengths we have fought for, including anger, to help define and fashion a world where all our sisters can grow, where our children can love, and where the power of touching and meeting another woman’s difference and wonder will eventually transcend the need for destruction.

Lorde, Audre. The Uses of Anger: Women Responding to Racism.

What will I do today, in light of everything going on?

Write. Journaling and blogging, especially as ways for me to articulate my anger and thoughts during an overwhelming, overstimulating time, are tried-and-true rhythms of expression that have carried me through the past decade of deconstructing and reconstructing my understanding of being an Asian American woman.

Take an ice cube and run it all over my face (DBT strategies for distress tolerance).

Eat dumpling noodle soup with a side of cucumber kimchi, two foods that have given me comfort since childhood. Cup the bowl with both hands and drink the remaining broth slow. Feel the nourishing liquid seep into my core.

Drink water.

Unplug from social media.

Go outside.

Talk with a friend. Pray and engage in contemplative spirituality / guided meditation practices that ground and center me. To help me expand my heart and vision to embrace abundance rather than scarcity, and move out of tunnel vision.

Take a sick/personal day from work.

Rest.

2020 updates

Work: I am in my second year working as a High School Counselor. I deeply value the opportunities that this role gives me to build supportive relationships with students and families. As I navigate work amidst ongoing COVID-19 and structural oppression, I am reminded of the necessity for me to build community (which includes multiracial coalitions) at and beyond my workplace, and also continuously ground myself in my truths as an Asian American and BIPOC woman, (adulting) child of immigrants, and educator.

Image: Esther’s usual work look this winter. I work in-person in the mornings since our school is implementing the hybrid learning model. I drive home during the mid-day break to resume work remotely in the afternoons.

Personal: The past two years have been both tumultuous and transformative for my immediate family and me. My father and mother officially divorced in February, after which my father intended to return to Korea indefinitely. However, he was hospitalized in Korea starting in June after suffering a stroke. He also lost his housing and was diagnosed with a host of medical conditions including early-stage cancer during this season. Life had effectively given my father not just one, but a whole truckload of lemons. And the reverberations from these major life events rocked the lives of each of my family members, myself included, to our core as well.

As my father’s healthcare proxy, I have been working closely with family members and providers in both Korea and the U.S. to coordinate his medical care, housing plan, and return to the U.S., all the while unearthing the depths of my strained relationship with him. We have all come a long way, of that I am certain. And at the same time, we have a long way to go as we continue to break silences to speak and listen to each other’s truths, grieve losses named and unnamed, and try our best to face the uncertainties that the future holds. I often return to the late James Baldwin’s words, “Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

Image: Esther (left), Chris (center, back), and Dad posing for a selfie after Dad’s discharge from the hospital. (December 29, 2020)

Throughout the years, I’ve written extensively about my family via personal journaling, academic, and creative non-fiction mediums as a means to cope with challenging realities, and to also craft my own voice and meaning to guide me forward in this life. In due time, I’ll have more words to share about my ever-iterative reflections on family. But regardless of what words may manifest, I will give myself permission to practice presence daily, without forcing outcomes. I will allow myself to seek and savor joy and love as central forces in my life, rather than surrender my life and strivings to be molded into capitalist, “American Dream” tropes that ultimately do not lead me nor my loved ones towards freedom.

Passion: In the wake of George Floyd’s murder this past summer, I facilitated a 7-week learning community with my Asian American friends during which we engaged in self reflection, wrote our Racial Autobiographies, and learned about Asian American histories of struggle and solidarity with fellow BIPOC groups. Together, we planted and nourished seeds of hope and strength within ourselves to persist in our individual and collective journeys of activism. This learning community reminded me of the late Grace Lee Boggs’s words, “We are beginning to understand that the world is always being made fresh and never finished; that activism can be the journey rather than the arrival; that’s struggle doesn’t always have to be confrontational but can take the form of reaching out to find common ground with the many others in our society who are also seeking ways out from alienation, isolation, privatization, and dehumanization by corporate globalization.”

I am also reminded of this article about how Self-care isn’t enough. We need community care to thrive. (Mashable)

Image: Culturally appropriate groceries delivered to Vietnamese households in Dorchester (Boston, MA). Throughout COVID-19, Project Restore Us organized grocery deliveries to households in need, in collaboration with community organizations like AARW, VietAID, Chinese Progressive Association – Boston, and La Comunidad, Inc.
(Side note: I recently bought a car, and this photo was taken in its back trunk hehe.)

Future: So where does this year’s events and growth lead me now? 2020 has, in profound ways, reaffirmed my desire to continue teaching, counseling, and walking alongside people in their own journeys of breaking silences, healing, building community, and producing knowledge that is grounded in the liberation of ourselves and all oppressed peoples. I may not know where exactly this journey will take me next, but I’m here for it!

I would love to hear what you’ve been thinking and reflecting on lately as well. Please don’t be a stranger; I send virtual hugs and abundant armfuls of gratitude to you.

With love,

Esther

where / how i am

I’m writing to you this Friday morning, still sleepy from Thanksgiving day feasting. Yesterday goes by a different name, depending on who you ask. National Day of Mourning: this name evokes specific histories and realities that remind me of my fleeting, yet nevertheless implicated role within the bloody crusade of U.S. nation-state formation.

I grew up in Hanover, MA, a town that sits on the land of Wôpanâak (Wompanoag) and Massa-adchu-es-et (Massachusett) peoples. In my K-12 schooling, I was taught that Native Americans were mostly wiped out by co-occurring epidemics of small pox and Western settler-colonialism brought by the Pilgrims, for reasons that were blessed by (White) (Protestant Christian) (male) (Western European-serving) God. My K-12 schooling included little to no mention of surviving Native American tribes nor their ongoing struggle for justice and sovereignty, despite the fact that my school was located less than an hour drive away from the home of the first National Day of Mourning in 1970. Looking back on these lessons now, I lament this weaponization of education, and the miseducation that continues to happen in many classrooms today.

On this day, I’m left wondering about my diasporic life as a Korean American woman, a liminal positionality that evokes not only my dispersion from a mythical motherland, but also a disconnection from (and transience in relation to) the land upon which I now reside, and from the Native communities who continue to steward this land as they fight for their right to live. Here I am today, still living on the land of the Massa-adchu-es-et people, as a subject whose sensibilities have been indelibly shaped by U.S. chauvinist, nationalist narratives fed to me since childhood, as well as the institutional erasure of the gruesome histories of genocide and White supremacy that reified such narratives in the first place. Upon what foundation is my moral integrity now built, and is there a possibility for my own homecoming as a diasporic Asian American woman to not be one that mimics settler-colonial violence?

When was the last time I felt at home? Elaine H. Kim’s article entitled, “Home is Where the Han is,” comes to mind. In this article, Kim wrote about the 1992 Los Angeles Uprising, the resulting psychic damage dealt upon Korean Americans, “whether recovery is possible for Korean Americans and… what will become of our attempts to “become American” without dying of han.” What does it mean (and cost) for me to build a home amidst the wreckages of White supremacy and structural racism? And how do I not lose myself as I embark on this existential reckoning – that is, of resisting the systematic misrepresentation and erasure of not only Native peoples’ lived experiences, but also those of my own people, and the grief and trauma caused by such erasure that continues to travel across generations? Are my efforts too little, too late?

Or perhaps, is letting go of myself as I’ve previously known her to be – fragmented, existing on the fringes of every environment she encounters, disconnected from land and her neighbors, always hungry and searching for home – the only way towards being truly found?

Given this particular holiday, another question sticks with me: Why do we, individually and collectively, continue to feast on top of graves and also on top of the living? What do we lose, and what do we gain when we turn our eyes away from the cruelty of perpetuating dominant narratives in order to maintain the facade of the American Dream©? Who actually benefits, at the end of the day?

To be at home is an iterative journey of returning, of reclamation, of re-connection, and of restoration and reimagination. To be at home, one must first articulate the histories of one’s inheritance in this world – that is, to name the figurative walls, doors, windows, and furnishings that have shaped one’s upbringing. To move towards restoration and reimagination is to then redefine home as a place – a dynamic, fluid residence of mind, heart, body, and spirit altogether perhaps, and not just disembodied proximity – that not only holds histories and ancestral lineages as sacred, but also makes room for safety, belonging, acceptance, and most importantly, love to flourish. To be at home in diaspora is to be seen and, in response, be embraced with a love all-encompassing, transformative, and eternal.

I have felt this love in friendships that miraculously flourished despite scarce conditions and bore witness, with awe and joy, to each other’s healing and growth. These friendships have matured, rather than withered, through time and distance.

I have felt this love through gifts of unconditional acceptance and forgiveness that come from within, accessed through self-directed compassion and love – a self-given permission to grow.

I have felt this love emanating from inspiring acts of community care and a long-lasting commitment to shift one another towards justice and solidarity.

I have felt this love in each deep breath and movement that guides me to ease back into my body – beautiful, sensual, and without shame.

To live, love, and uplift one another amidst catastrophic conditions… To resist amnesia by calling upon history and memory again and again… To seek and embody joy and light while wading in the depths of human suffering and oppression… How powerful it is, to be alive today.

2019 in moments

*edit: content warning for feb 2019 re: addiction, intergenerational trauma

jan 2019 : finding our way to the stage, singing 

[image caption: taken by my co-worker (mentioned below) during a practice session. three students and one adult (me) are snapping their fingers and clapping after another group member shares a personal experience of empowerment. the photo is cropped to protect confidentiality. ]

All classes are cancelled to make room for Intersession: a week in January where students and teachers step out of their usual routines in order to share creative energy and expand the realm of collaborative learning beyond the traditional classroom. At the behind-the-scenes nudging from a coworker, I take her spot in an R&B/hip-hop mashup a cappella group.

Led by two vocalist majors, the group draws members from far corners of the school: a ninth-grade theater student, the veteran theater teacher herself, and now a sheepish school counseling intern thrown into the mix, to name a few. Many of us barely crossed paths before this moment, and more than a handful of us were also new to singing (in public, that is). Irregardless of where we’ve been, we’re now sitting inches from each other in a circle, learning to harmonize Ariana Grande’s thank u, next, among other medlied songs.

Fast-forward one week and several hours of practice later. A full auditorium sings along to the medley’s finale: one of my personal favorites, Daniel Caesar’s Best Part. There’s something about communal singing and being enveloped in sound that’s nothing short of heavenly.

feb 2019: when an hour feels like an eternity 

My father’s condition has been worsening in recent years. Everything’s laid out on the table between my parents now. My brother and I have been kept away from this table, but my mother has begun sharing more candidly with me. We are each reaching our wits’ end; our conversations eventually peter out to a prolonged silence over the phone. With reluctance, I take off my counselor hat, revealing a daughter who has finally granted herself permission to grieve.

A series of phone calls one evening about another one of my father’s outbursts, but this one happening live time, pushes me to take family matters into my own hands. Late-night calls between mental health hotlines, addiction treatment centers, and home take their toll on me, and I call in sick from work the next morning. Aside from the lack of sleep, my body feels the inherited weight of trauma, han, and – in my late grandmother’s belief – an ultimately immutable palja of suffering, even heavier than before. My heart sinks, and I cannot stop her this time. As I ride this wave, I wonder: perhaps our family is being dragged (or released?) into this newfound (or inevitable?) rock-bottom season. Where will this momentum, this frenzy of energy and thrashing movement, take us next? I wait alone in my bedroom, long past the morning rush hour, for my phone to ring. Hope approaches as a dim flicker in the distance, and my gaze intensifies. 

Change must begin somewhere; even the smallest seed will suffice. what we give attention to grows.

mar 2019: no more waiting around

I once created a Google Calendar event scheduled for 10-11pm on a Sunday that read, “Find a time to watch TV.” If this isn’t a clear sign that my life is over-scheduled and wringing me dry, then I don’t know what is. And this situation is all too common among folks in my generation: juggling full-time school, a 20+ hour/week unpaid internship, and two minimum-wage jobs to help chip away at rising living costs while leaving minimal buffer funds to deal with personal emergencies, let alone increasing student debt. Capitalism kills, and it took me yet another brush-up against burnout to take this warning seriously for myself. If I (we) want to truly live life to the fullest, then something drastic about this life – and the larger society that gives life much of its depth and context – needs to change. This kind of transformation must start from within.

apr 2019: sunday morning superheroes, soup, and savoring community

[image caption: group selfie after watching the final Avengers movie and eating pho at DK in Chinatown]

This group showed me another way to do “church” – that is, embodying our collective participation in the resurrected body of christ that does not need to eradicate difference, but rather includes us all and transcends divisions. Starting with a sacred respect for each other’s unique stories and desires for community, we gathered weekly over food (oftentimes, a heavy pot of chili or curry) and shared about our lives via the ever-so-consistent structure of highs and lows (with cousin versions of “happies and crappies,” “rose-bud-thorn,” and so on). Over the months, we gradually established our own routine for sharing some of the minute details, breakthrough victories, and other in-between moments that fill our days with meaning. We also cultivated a rhythm of active listening and practiced sharing our life stories with one another.

Thank you god for everyone (including those not pictured above) you’ve brought together for a brief yet long-lasting connection – an opportunity to witness your kindom expand beyond our oftentimes rigid expectations and fears.

may 2019: how to pass the baton well (and not so well) 

[image caption: Esther, dressed in graduation attire and looking away from the camera, is seated amidst a crowd of other graduates. photo taken by HGSE/Harvard photographer]

Graduation happened. Transitioning out of jobs and onboarding/trainings for new employees and interns happened. Moving apartments (and the logistical nightmare that was responding to misunderstandings and conflict blowing up between the outgoing and incoming tenants, and the landlord) happened.

Not all of it was smooth. Hell, a lot of life during the months of May and July was overtly stressful. At many points during these months, all I wanted to do was to be a hermit and escape from discomfort, difficult emotions, and people in general (s/o to my Less-Resourced Enneagram 5 type, heyo). There were factors contributed by me (i.e. projecting my own emotional baggage unto others, under-communicating my needs and opinions, and making myself unavailable during critical moments aka avoiding conflict) and others (i.e. other peoples’ perceptions and expectations of me) that complicated the moving process for everyone involved. For me, these ultimately unresolved tensions added to my growing pains (even those that were long-awaited, like decluttering my belongings and moving to a new place) feeling unexpectedly raw and unsatisfying in the moment.

And that is okay, Esther; life can be that way sometimes (and/or a lot of times). Not every conflict needs to nor can be cleanly resolved. And yet, each person is responsible for being present and engaged (as they are able) in the process of navigating conflict to explore what new, mutual understandings emerge.

jun 2019: celebrating birthdays and weddings of so many beautiful, beloved friends! yay!

jul 2019: there’s a dinosaur at the door, and i have no idea how to respond. send help. #mood

[image caption: an unnamed music departmental faculty/staff dressed in an inflatable dinosaur costume, holding a textbook while standing in the entrance of the Harvard music library. another staff member is standing to the dinosaur’s left]

July was a fucking whirlwind. Some themes:

existential dread (that is, feeling the need to redirect my purpose in life to spaces outside of academia and other elitist institutions),

taking a deep-dive into deconstructing and reconstructing my spirituality via the writings of Richard Rohr, and also acquainting myself with Zen Buddhist meditation practice via attending a retreat at the Cambridge Zen Center (had an overall mixed experience, in retrospect),

trying out family therapy for the first time with my mom and brother (still feels a bit surreal that this happened !! it was an overall positive and powerful experience),

reading a ton of books and filling over 90 pages of my journal with excerpts, reflections, questions, and thoughts that i want to keep close (i had a lot of thoughts and feelings this month, and journaling was a creative outlet and organizational vessel for me to relieve my mind and heart),

finding respite in Chicago and reconnecting with cherished friends,

lots of practice setting boundaries with family,

& more.

aug 2019: trying out new life rhythms

[image caption: a bird’s-eye view of a smorgasbord of berries, homemade waffles, grits, whipped cream, and other breakfast goodies, along with a DnD info sheet]

Starting in August, a group of friends began a tradition of gathering every Saturday morning to eat breakfast and play Dungeons and Dragons (DnD). Thanks to one friend who’s taken charge of facilitating each session and teaching us the ins-and-outs of the game, our group has gone from being mostly complete DnD noobs to slightly less clueless (maybe that’s just me lol) players immersed in the rollicking drama of each campaign. Rather irreverent to the traditional playing methods (or perhaps in the creative spirit of this fantastical storyscape), our group tends to make up our own rules; we oftentimes choose to befriend foes and interrogate psychological motives of characters, instead of jumping into full-on conflict and fighting wherever possible. Saturday mornings are now filled with laughter and light-hearted cheer, due to what has unexpectedly become my most consistent hangout with friends in a long, long time. yay for reclaiming fun in familiar and previously unfamiliar ways!

I also started at my new job. Yay for taking new steps as I embark on my professional journey! I have a feeling my “professional journey” will continue to be intertwined with (or rather, stem from) my personal one. More on this at another time.

Growing edge: I want to articulate the politics of the work I do as a school counselor. Whose voices are being heard and prioritized over others? How do structures, policies, and histories inform the relationships being perpetuated and established? Where will I place my energy, my time, my body, my privilege?

sep 2019: walking through life in community

[image caption: Cooper (cat) seated on the floor, looking pensively upwards]

I joined a small group centered on practicing the spiritual discipline of examen in community. Pictured above is cooper, whose cat parents are two of our small group leaders! This space has been crucial for me and my spiritual health in so many ways. Will reflect more on this later.

I witnessed two of my closest friends getting married!

Reminder to self: Life is not about the destination. There will always be infinite destinations, but it is the journey that gives this life such glorious meaning.

Esther, simply be present to your journey.

oct 2019: hiking mt. chocorua on indigenous peoples’ day

[image caption: Mom and I take a selfie with mt. chocorua’s golden foliage in the background]

This is my mother. Her inexhaustible joy of being in nature is just one testament to the innumerable ways she’s overcome challenges in life with a gentle and fierce strength.

nov 2019: I was sick for most of this month with a viral cold.

Hopefully I’ve earned my “working in a school” badge and fortified my immune system enough to get me through the rest of the year!

dec 2019: being on the receiving end of gratitude

[image caption: me in summer, with a handmade mini-bouquet of weeds and grass perched on top of my glasses. i scrunch my nose and smile towards the camera]

sometimes feels weird to me, still. but i think i’m getting the hang of it! lots of #goldenbirthdaygratitude to go around 🙂

Thanks for reading! Let me know if anything I wrote resonates with you :). May 2020 be a year of making room for healing growth and sharing love in all forms!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Resource List] Addressing Bullying and Discrimination of Asian American Pacific Islander Adolescents in U.S. Public Schools

Context: I compiled this resource list for H310M: Establishing Loving Spaces for Learning: Preventing Bullying and Discrimination in U.S. Schools, a module offered at Harvard Graduate School of Education. The assignment consisted of compiling resources that would support the formation of ‘safe, loving spaces’ in schools for a specific population of students. The purpose of this resource list is to equip educators (i.e. teachers, counselors, youth workers) to take a preventative approach towards bullying and discrimination, specifically in supporting Asian American and Pacific Islander adolescent students who attend U.S. public schools.

What are Safe, Loving Spaces?

My conceptualization of safe, loving spaces for students in schools centers upon four requirements: 1) ensuring students’ physical and social-emotional safety inside and outside of classrooms; 2) nurturing students’ sense of belonging and community at school, especially in consideration of the intersectionality of students’ identities; 3) positive adult-young person relationships that support and empower students to engage fully in school; and 4) proactively implementing non-discrimination policies through multi-level interventions that involve students, teachers, parents and all other stakeholders in the school community.

Bullying and discrimination have been associated with negative physical and psychological outcomes among youth who engage in, as well as those who suffer from bullying behaviors (Ali, 2010; Flannery, 2016). Examples of associated outcomes of bullying and discrimination are “poor physical health, anxiety, depression, increased risk for suicide, poor school performance, and future delinquent and aggressive behavior” (Flannery et al., 2016, p. 1044). As such, it is critically necessary for schools to address bullying and discrimination in schools by creating safe, loving spaces for students as they develop and grow.

Target Population

The target population for this Resource List consists of Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) adolescents who attend U.S. public schools. Although the term “AAPI adolescents” constitutes a vast multiplicity of ethnic groups, cultures, and experiences, AAPI adolescents’ experiences with bullying and discrimination are often invisibilized and invalidated due to pervasive model minority and Orientalizing [See Note] stereotypes. In addition to these two prominent stereotypes, it is important to acknowledge that AAPI students are racialized beings and thus must navigate systems of racism and other forms of oppression that pervade all aspects of U.S. society, including the school environment. Specifically, the perpetuation of the model minority myth, racial triangulation of AAPI communities against specifically White communities and communities of color (Kim, 1999), and the multiple oppressions experienced by LGBTQIA+ young people of color (Daley et al., 2008)—undergird the urgent need for AAPI adolescents’ unique needs and experiences to be addressed in U.S. public schools.

Quotes to ground educators when supporting AAPI students:

“Know history, know self. No history, no self.” (José P. Rizal)

“Your silence will not protect you.” (Audre Lorde)

“Invisibility is not a natural state for anyone.” (Yamada, 1979, p. 40)

 

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Resources

Cooc, N. & Gee, K. A. (2014). National trends in school victimization among Asian American adolescents. Journal of Adolescence, volume 37. Retrieved from http://www.sciencedirect.com.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/science/article/pii/S0140197114000761

Type: Academic article. Overview: In their research findings, the authors concluded that (1) although Asian American youth are less likely to experience bullying than other racial groups, Asian American youth are more likely than other racial groups to experience racial discrimination from their peers; (2) Asian American students who are academically low-achieving experienced more bullying behaviors than Asian American students who were academically high-achieving; and (3) additional research was necessary to identify protective factors to decrease school victimization of Asian American youth. Uses: (Informational) This article gives an overview of existing research literature, as well as provides evidence about how school-based victimization of Asian American students manifests in different forms and rates based on academic achievement, gender, and other social position factors. Educators should consider how Asian American adolescents’ experiences with bullying and harassment are impacted by racism, particularly when they transgress racialized stereotypes, i.e. the model minority myth.

Ding, L. (2001). Ancestors in the Americas. PBS. Retrieved from http://www.pbs.org/ancestorsintheamericas/

Type: Online resource (curriculum) Overview: This online resource includes a comprehensive historical timeline documenting Asian American histories from the beginnings of Asian migration to the United States, all the way to the twenty-first century. Uses: (Practical) This website also includes lesson plans and other resources for teachers in order to integrate Asian American history into classroom curriculum. Including accurate and nuanced Asian American histories in classroom learning can effectively work towards debunking racialized stereotypes about Asian Americans, as well as increase AAPI students’ felt inclusion and visibility in their classroom and U.S. society at-large.

Peguero, A. A. (2009). Victimizing the children of immigrants: Latino and Asian American student victimization. Youth & Society, volume 41(2). Retrieved from http://journals.sagepub.com.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/doi/pdf/10.1177/0044118X09333646

Type: Academic article. Overview: The author presented several findings concerning Asian American students’ felt experiences of safety and belonging in their schools: (1) Asian American first and second-generation immigrant students reported being more afraid at school, compared to “White American third-plus generation immigrant students;” (2) schools are sites of socialization, especially in the ways that Asian American immigrants learn about U.S. societal and cultural expectations; and (3) the “model immigrant” stereotype often produces detrimental effects that erase the realities of Asian Americans who are poor and experience various forms of discrimination. Uses: (Informational) This article gives insight for educators in addressing how the model minority/immigrant stereotype negatively impacts AAPI students’ psychological well-being in schools, especially for AAPI students whose experiences directly contradict such stereotypes.

SAALT. (2016). In the face of xenophobia: Lessons to address bullying of South Asian American youth. Retrieved from https://www.sikhcoalition.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/SAALT-In-The-Face-Of-Xenophobia.pdf

Type: Non-profit publication (curriculum). Overview: The authors argued that (1) bullying is often connected with larger, intersecting systems of xenophobia, sexism, and racism; (2) South Asian American young people—particularly Sikh American young people—are disproportionately impacted by race and religion-based bullying and harassment; and (3) one effective way for educators to combat bias-based bullying is through utilizing curriculum focused on anti-racist and multicultural topics. Uses: (Informational) This resource provides educators with accurate South Asian American historical information. (Practical) This resource also includes anti-bullying lesson plans and resources that educators can directly implement in their classrooms.

Resources Cited:

Kim, J. C. (1999). The racial triangulation of Asian Americans. Politics & Society, volume 27(1). Retrieved from http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0032329299027001005

Yamada, M. (1979). Invisibility is an unnatural disaster: Reflections of an Asian American woman. In Anzaldúa, G. E. & Moraga, C., This bridge called my back: Writings by radical women of color. London: Persephone Press. Retrieved from https://hamtramckfreeschool.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/yamada-invisibility.pdf

Said, E. (1978). Orientalism. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd. Retrieved from https://sites.evergreen.edu/politicalshakespeares/wp-content/uploads/sites/33/2014/12/Said_full.pdf

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Additional Considerations

• AAPI students’ experiences of bullying and discrimination should be analyzed with an intersectional and contextual lens; for example, AAPI students may be bullied and discriminated against based on the intersections of their perceived immigration status, English language skills, ethnicity, gender, and other identities (Ahuja, 2014).
• LGBT newcomer youth of color are “particularly vulnerable” to experiencing bullying and discrimination due to the intersections of their various marginalized identities. Also, LGBT youth are more vulnerable to being bullied when they transgress prescribed gender and other cultural norms (Daley et al., 2008).
• Based on a qualitative study with White and First Nations youth in northern British Columbia, Canada, neocolonialism and racism significantly influenced the interviewed youth’s narratives concerning peer conflicts and social division in their school. (Haines-Saah et al., 2016) The findings from this study can be extended to AAPI adolescents. AAPI communities have historically experienced an increase in discrimination and hate crimes due to their perceived racial and ethnic identities, especially during tense political conflicts between the U.S. and other countries (i.e. 9/11 and the rise of anti-Sikh violence, World War II and Japanese American internment, etc.). Educators should be aware of current political events that may impact AAPI students’ and families’ safety inside and outside the classroom.
• Rates of bullying differ across immigration experience (i.e. first-generation students experienced higher rates of bullying, as compared to second and third-generation students), refugee status, and Asian/Pacific Islander ethnicities. Family cohesion may be a potential protective factor for AAPI youth experiencing bullying and discrimination (Pottie et al., 2014).
• Discipline-focused consequences to bullying and discrimination do not change hostile school environments; a proactive, non-punitive approach, i.e. implementing non-discrimination policies and preventative actions that address structural racism, must also be utilized (Ali, 2010).
• Based on the extant literature around anti-bullying program implementation, multi-component and multi-level programs are the most effective method of decreasing bullying prevalence in schools (Flannery, 2016).
• Students feel more accepted and valued when their classroom walls showcase accurate and positive representations of their cultural and social identities (Wessler, 2003).

Resources:

• Ahuja, K. (November 18, 2014). Strengthening the AAPI community through new bullying prevention efforts. Initiative on Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders. Retrieved from http://www.whitehouse.gov/blog/2014/11/18/strengthening-aapi-community-through-new-bullying- prevention-efforts
• Ali, R. (Oct. 26, 2010). Dear Colleague Letter: Bullying and Harassment. Office of Civil Rights, Washington DC. Downloaded from http://www2.ed.gov/about/offices/list/ocr/letters/colleague-201010.html
• Daley, A., Solomon, S., Newman, P.A., & Mishna, F. (2008). Traversing the margins: Intersectionalities in the bullying of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender youth. Journal of Gay & Lesbian Social Services, volume 19(3-4), pp. 9-29. http://www-tandfonline-com.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/doi/pdf/10.1080/10538720802161474
• Flannery, D.J. et al. (2016). Bullying prevention: A summary of the report of the national Academies of Sciences, Engineering and Medicine. Prevention Science, volume 17, pp. 1044-1053. Retrieved from https://link-springer-com.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/content/pdf/10.1007%2Fs11121-016-0722-8.pdf
• Haines-Saah, R.J., Hilario, C.T., Jankins, E.K., Ng, C.K.Y, & Johnson, J.L. (2016). Understanding adolescent narratives about “bullying” through an intersectional lens: Implications for youth mental health interventions. Youth & Society, 1-23. Retrieved from http://journals.sagepub.com.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/doi/pdf/10.1177/0044118X15621465
• Pottie, K., Dahal, G., Georgiades, K., Premji, K., & Hassan, G. (2014). Do first generation immigrant adolescents face higher rates of bullying, violence, and suicidal behaviors than do third generation and native born? Journal of Immigrant and Minority Health. Retrieved from http://link.springer.com.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/article/10.1007%2Fs10903-014-0108-6
• Pritchard, E.D. (2013). For colored kids who committed suicide, our outrage isn’t enough: Queer youth of color, bullying, and the discursive limits of identity and safety. Harvard Educational review, volume 83(2), pp. 320-345. Retrieved from http://her.hepg.org.ezp-prod1.hul.harvard.edu/content/7n07k41t2kn26708/fulltext.pdf
• Southern Poverty Law Center (2016). The Trump Effect: The Impact of the 2016 Presidential Election on Our Nation’s Schools. Retrieved from: https://www.splcenter.org/20160413/trump-effect-impact-presidential-campaign-our-nations-schools
• Wessler, S.L. (2003). It’s hard to learn when you’re scared. Educational Leadership, volume 61(1), pp. 40-43. Retrieved from http://huntersbeehive.weebly.com/uploads/1/4/2/1/14216203/its_hard_to_learn_when_youre_scared.pdf

 

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Note

Historian Edward W. Said defined Orientalism as “a style of thought based upon an ontological and epistemological distinction made between “the Orient” and (most of the time) “the Occident.” Thus a very large mass of writers, among whom are poets, novelists, philosophers, political theorists, economists, and imperial administrators, have accepted the basic distinction between East and West as the starting point for elaborate theories, epics, novels, epics, social descriptions and political accounts concerning the Orient, its people, customs, “mind,” destiny, and so on.” (1978, pp. 10-11) Pertaining to this Resource List, it is useful to consider Said’s definition of Orientalism in order to become aware of the multi-dimensional processes of racial othering and stereotyping that shape peoples’ perceptions of AAPI students, as well as inform AAPI students’ internalized self-conceptions.