balance?
June 25, 2008
as i continue this adventure in blogging, i find it only appropriate to link you to another blog to read an article i wrote after the 2008 NATWA II convention in los angeles this past april.
it’s all about layers. a blog within a blog.
enjoy.
a balancing act by stephanie yang
and if you find yourself identifying as a second generation taiwanese american woman, come join us next year in atlanta for the 2009 convention. hey, just look at how much fun we had this year!
roland.
June 16, 2008
items founds in taiwan…and the friends they are given to…make my heart all giddy.
as i continue to clean my house i keep finding these little trinkets, cool little pieces of plastic or metal, or at times, something else, that i have either brought back with me from my journeys in taiwan or have somehow acquired here, lulled into being a consumer by that ubiquitous little white sticker affixed to it that reads: “made in taiwan”.
i wasn’t made in taiwan…yet so much of my life was…and yet, in taiwan, i find meaning, i found belonging…in truth, sitting on my grandparents leather couch that one afternoon with my agong, i found me.
so i hold onto trinkets, i buy them when they catch my eye…and i offer them up as gifts to friends as a piece of who i am. a gift of me.
venting
June 13, 2008
i am appreciating the joy in simply letting it out and indulging in a good old-fashion vent. the kind that feels like the gust of wind when you open both front windows in your car, all at the same time. a vent that blows you each and every way, and then, when the crashing and swirling of sound is finally too much, you close the windows and once again, you find yourself safely immersed in calm.
in honoring the joy and power of a periodic vent, i offer up my current TOP 3 VENTS to you as a way of simply letting the wind blow.
vent #1: PUBLIC TOILETS. here’s the thing. i can’t say i’ve travelled all over the world, but i can say that i have travelled a lot and in lots of different regions, areas, countries, climates — and one thing continues to amaze me. the most disgusting, dirty, messy and horrific public toilets i have encountered have overwhelmingly been in the states. seriously. why is that? don’t get me wrong — i have encountered some questionable ones overseas too — but overall, and in terms of frequency, the states wins, hands out. this, in this supposed “developed” country, we have the worst toilet habits. one could argue that every other culture actually understands the meaning of community and everyone understands and respects shared spaces, and in america we have devolved to such a point that community in this way is no longer an understood concept. perhaps. but it astounds me. every single time i use a public toilet. i am actually surprised in the US if it is clean. i mean, seriously, i have been in public toilets, which are mostly just a hole in the ground, not much more, in rural parts of asia, that are much more welcoming that ones you would find in any urban or rural part of the states…including those in schools, libraries and parks in wealthy neighborhoods! and don’t even get me started on the myth that women’s bathrooms are neater and cleaner than men’s SIMPLY because we’re women? what? women leave toilet paper all over the floors, never seem to be able to actually throw paper towels INTO the trash can…and people with penises are NOT the only ones who sometimes miss. i seriously doubt all these people treat their own bathrooms with such neglect…seriously. what is up with that? something to consider.
vent #2: MARRIED? SINGLE? DIVORCED? ok. i have about had it with living in a society/culture that begs to define me by a relationship status. i used to be annoyed that there was no term for simply “dating” — one is either “single” or “married”…or “divorced”. that in itself was annoying. but now, for those of us choosing to live outside those institutions — and i would argue, being single (that is, “singles”), is also an institution — where do we fit in? whether or not i am dating someone, fucking someone, flirting with someone, signed papers with someone, signed different kinds of papers with someone, or sleeping alone, is irrelevant. what does that tell you about me — whether or not i am “good enough” or “not good enough”? by whose standards — and honestly, who the fuck cares? do i hold more “value” because i have found someone who thinks i’m good enough to date? to fuck? to marry?…or do i lose my value because i couldn’t translate a signature on paper to a life-long “partnership” – and i use quotes, because really, we all know that all marriages aren’t real “partnerships”…but i digress…so, to continue, i want to live in a society where my value is based on who i am, not by who i am in relationship with…or not. or who i used to be in relationship with. take the time to get to know me as a whole person, a full person…and i promise you won’t be let down…and you’ll learn a hell of a lot more about who i am than if you simply ask me “what do you do?” and “are you dating anyone?”
vent #3: COST OF GAS. grrr. need i say more? actually yes, there is one thing…you’d THINK that the insanity that is fuel prices would seriously encourage people to fly less, drive less, take more public transit (and advocate for more smart growth and more transit oriented communities!!), or even, get a motorcycle (i highly recommend this approach…hehe) but no. there are still a gazillion cars on the road, rush hour traffic in california still induces loss of civility..or an increase in virility (aka agression), and people still drive hummers…in LA!!! i mean, really, ok. this war sucks. capitalism exploits ass. oils prices are ridiculous. so wouldn’t it make sense that it would push folks to embrace a positive side to all of this and conserve more. reduce consumption. and go green? oh my. thankfully i enjoy spending most of my time at home these days (when not zigzagging the country on planes…sigh).
thank you for listening.
a whisper grows…
June 7, 2008
tonight. sitting here in LA, in the town i was born in, the part of california i grew up in, i am questioning the fates, wanting to know where i am supposed to be. i know it’s not here…so then, where? this isn’t the first time the fates have convened at my will, to listen as i pose the question of “what’s next?”. having been listening for the rustle of a response now for several weeks, a whisper begins to take shape in my ears:
i want to move back to new orleans.
it is a place that moves me. viscerally. emotionally. creatively. it is the place where i actually, truly, feel at home. deeply. authentically. at home. i search for the words to express what new orleans means to me and i realize it is beyond the scope of language. it is a knowing, deep inside, that connects me there.
i first starting hearing an answer as i was watching a short film yesterday about new orleans, that follows a local resident’s journey to rebuild and reclaim after the katrina devastation occurred…and every image, every sound, every piece of this story reminded me with such simplicity, that new orleans has always been my home. that is where my heart resides. and that perhaps, it is now time to return.
i have always chosen where to live based on what feels right…relying on a little tremor inside that only i can notice, that lets me know where i’m supposed to be. it has never led me astray…and it is acting up again, getting antsy, letting me know that it is time to move. if i had let myself listen more carefully over the years, i would have recognized this voice telling me that i left too soon, i left too quick…that i was walking away from destiny…but i didn’t care to listen because i needed out. i thought i needed out. the truth is, i wasn’t done. i wasn’t done with nola, and she definitely wasn’t done with me. the hold she has on me only grows stronger as the years pass. i don’t think i can ignore it any longer…it just might be the right time to return.
and so i let go of my fears and welcome in all what may emerge as i give voice to possibilities, to whims and to the seductive lure of daydreams…
kabuki
June 2, 2008
it never happens often enough that i find myself here at the baths, my body blissing out on the many forms of heat and enlivening to the quick, occasional splash of cold. i am surrounded by beauty which is mirrored in me. i take a deep breath in, the hot dry air of the sauna catches in my chest before i release it out, flowing with it all that i’ve ever needed to let go, it seems. it feels good to breathe, to release. to feel all those years of hatred tumble out of my body through my lungs, my pores, my breath.
the female body, in all her curves, her angles, her textures, is beautiful beyond words. laying back now in the warm water i notice all the bodies surrounding me. walking by. resting. washing. cleansing. and i am one of them. i turn to rocket who came here with me and we languish in a smile.
for many many years i faced this body, my body, daily, as if preparing for battle, convinced i had to fight against it. that if only i could conquer it, reshape it to look like my mother’s ideal of beauty, i would be ok. that i would be enough. this body was too tall. too queer. too white. too chinese. too big. too masculine. too sexual. simply. it was too much. so i learned to hate every inch, every cell that made up the whole. it was eating that built this body, and then it was eating that destroyed me.
eating disorders. disordered eating. whatever we call it, however we come to terms with it, it is all the same. it is fighting against our bodies, tearing fissures of difference between our physical and mental selves. food is not the battle. i created the war inside me, using food (or the lack of) as ammunition to maim, to injure…to kill. i lived this violence for years, decades even…a secret very few ever knew about. it will always be here with me…this voice inside that tells me that my body isn’t enough, that i will never be enough. a voice that is both comforting in its familiarity, yet vicious in its attacks. i am learning finally to separate out that voice from what i know about me, who i know i am.
some days are harder than others. but not all. thankfully, those days of peaceful sunshine are coming more and more often, it seems. there was a time in my life when the self-hatred was all i had to hold onto. all that i could see. i learned how to hate myself as a child…and perfected it as an adult. in the past few years though, i have made the choice to unlearn that hate. to heal the wounds that i have caused, to forgive myself for the myriad scars i have left, scattered across my body…ones only i can see.
i have used ink and stainless steel to cover up some of the scars and am always wanting more. as i look around the baths again, i take note of the spattering of ink on other bodies, appreciating the beauty of moving art. it is in this moment, this elongated moment of self care, that i am letting go of the voice inside and choosing to claim the truth that is mirrored before me. she is beauty. they are beauty. i am beauty. and in that, we are each, individually and collectively, completely enough.
