Boba or Starbucks? Sweet little pearls Or a caffeinated high I drink your sweet nectar And spend so much to buy Just a little bit of happy For a moment I sigh One or the other I need to decide Starbucks or Boba I can’t make up my mind Winter Icy and cold  Are the long winter months Feels like the North Pole Where the polar bear hunts White is the snow that falls on the ground Small little flurries float all around Take me away  With the bitter snow I want to play I want to go Lauren is a regular contributor for The Universal Asian. To learn more about her, check out her Contributor’s Page here.

*Trigger Warnings: Mental Illness, Suicide Anna Chiu is a typical high schooler to everyone else. Only she and her family know what’s really going on at home. Her mom hasn’t gotten out of bed in months and her dad spends all of his time at their restaurant, leaving Anna to take care of her younger siblings. Anna’s father hires a new delivery boy, Rory, and Anna finally thinks she can have some semblance of a normal upbringing. However, when her mom finally gets out of bed, things go from bad to worse and Anna is left with more responsibility than she can manage. "The Surprising Power of a Good Dumpling" was surprising indeed. I went into it without reading the book jacket summary, and was immediately drawn into the depth of the story. I was expecting a typical young adult romance about a girl who struggles to balance school, her family obligations, and a budding relationship. Instead, I read an enthralling story that examined loyalty, identity, and mental health. I could relate to Anna and her need to protect her family. I felt for her as she watched her mother’s condition worsen, and had hope for her when she found a solid support system through Rory. The romance aspect was a bit lacking and I would hesitate to call this a young adult romance novel. Rather, it was a bittersweet story about a young woman who has been thrust into a new role of responsibility and her journey to recognizing she cannot do it alone. I appreciated the use of Jyutping throughout the novel. While I am not a Cantonese speaker, I enjoyed getting to read the Cantonese words and phrases used by Anna and her family. It added to their dynamic and helped me understand their relationships. I also appreciated the depictions and discussions of racism and microaggressions. There were only a few and did not overpower the story, but did add another layer to show what Anna and her family endure as Chinese-Australians. Lastly, the conversation and theme of mental health throughout the story was incredible. Wai Chim showed multiple layers and perspectives when it comes to mental health. Not all of the characters were willing to even acknowledge that mental health was important while others were acutely aware of the power of mental health and therapy. Like in the real world, the story didn’t have a nice, fairy-tale ending. Instead, it reminded me that life can be hard, and we must persevere and keep fighting for what we love. Overall, this was a great story about mental health and support that also offered representation and validation for Asian readers. Get your copy here!

As we rang in 2021, hopes were rising due to the vaccine being rolled out, the fact that a new U.S. President would be sworn in, the idea that COVID-19 might become a thing of the past, and the majority of the world just wanting 2020 to end. However, shortly after January 1, 2021, travel and lockdowns around the world became only stricter with the new variants of COVID-19 emerging; all bringing 2021 into question and if it would actually usher in the end of COVID-19 and the unique and extremely difficult challenges we’ve been facing. 2020 for me, as many readers may know, was a tumultuous year with, just to name a few things, the confirmation through DNA with my Korean father, a paternal lawsuit filed and won, and his passing. I have a hard time just calling him “my father,” as I legally have two fathers. However, only one of them (my adoptive father, whom I hate to give that title) truly feels like my father, even though my other father actually created me. Feeding into that thought process; now imagine mourning this man who created you, without ever intrinsically knowing him. I’ve seen him from afar, and met him up close whilst hidden behind a mask, sunglasses, and a hat. However, I do not know him and now I never will. This man who created me, who knew my mother’s identity, and who abandoned me twice is still someone I have had to mourn. It’s not easy to describe nor for an outsider to understand. Those around me tried to, and would, comfort me with words such as: “He wasn’t your real father…” or “Just think of your immediate family and be thankful.” The list goes on of inappropriate words meant to be of comfort for someone who has just lost their father. In reality, for an adoptee, or any child, who has been estranged from their parent, losing them is not something you should or can just forget about or carelessly disregard. This person is still your parent who brought you into this world, and you have the right and even the need to mourn that loss. It may not be the same feeling of loss or grieving you may go through if you knew them your entire lifetime and built good memories with them. Maybe that is what makes the loss even greater, because you don’t have that foundation of good memories, or any memories for that matter, to carry you through the weight of the loss and pain you feel at that moment—it’s just emptiness and a deep sense of despair as you think about and wish for it to have been different. Just as 2020 had started with the hope of being only steps away from knowing whom my mother is and confirming whom my father was, it ended with the hopelessness of my father’s family secret being scattered under a tree in a fancy park in Seoul. 2021 brings lawyers in Kakao messenger chats yet again as inheritance is being negotiated, and with that the hope once again that I can gain the information I seek by leveraging my inheritance rights, and yet another lawsuit. The only way this family will be in any form of contact with me is through a lawyer it seems, so I’m left with no choice but to navigate uncharted territory. Throughout this continued fight, I’m still a wife, mother of two precious children, and business owner. Even during this pandemic and lockdown where time seems to be at a standstill for many, there still aren’t enough hours in the day for me. My heart is divided as the yearning to find the answers I seek is still so strong, yet to keep myself sane, and for the sake of my family I must focus on life in the now. It’s a constant battle, as an adoptee, to balance these two important facets of life. Since the trial and media explosion, I’ve been doing my own small part in adoptee advocacy by sharing my story, and also giving advice to adoptees in their search journeys. It’s been rewarding to even help reunite a couple adoptees with their birth families, and settles some of the restlessness I feel as I cannot go to Korea to search as I desire. However, the deeper I delve into adoption advocacy and the actual truth behind adoption, it all becomes so depleting and depressing to see the evil that continues to exist in the exploitation of helpless women, children, and the poor. I have read countless true stories of the illegal practices of adoption, and about how the West practices colonization around the world, by using wealth, education, and health care to exploit the most vulnerable all in the name of “the best interests of the child.” In doing so, the West overlooks the essential basic human need of keeping a child in their birth country and the preservation of first families, to the point that it pains me to have any hope for change. I keep speaking the truth to my small audience, but yearn for a larger one to rip apart the lies that surround the adoption narrative. Advocates have come and gone before me, and it seems that the lies continue to be stronger than our truths. Why is that? How do we get the power to change it? How many more decades, or even centuries, will have to pass for people to see past the sugar coating that surrounds the bitter truth of what adoption, especially inter-country adoption, is? In the Netherlands, where I live, an investigative adoption committee was formed in 2018 due to a Brazilian adoptee who filed a lawsuit against the Dutch government in regards to his illegal adoption and their role in facilitating his adoption. His wasn’t the first story to make headlines, but it was enough to pressure the Dutch government to set up an independent committee to investigate adoption procedures from 1967-1998 in five different countries: Bangladesh, Brazil, Colombia, Indonesia, and Sri Lanka. The report was delivered to the Dutch government on February 8, 2021 and they advised that inter-country adoption be immediately stopped, to which the government followed! It has caused quite the uproar in the adoption channels as no one expected such “drastic” measures to be taken so quickly. However, if one reads the report, how can one not expect the Dutch government to respond in this manner? The report concludes that “abuses and their consequences are not a thing of the past; they are still relevant today.” The committee recognized that adoptions have decreased and reform has been carried out to various degrees to prevent abuse, “but that has not removed the system’s financial incentives, and there is still a demand for children. This gives rise to a ‘waterbed effect’: the channels for adoption shift to countries—at the moment primarily African countries—which do not have controls in place.” The committee screened an additional 18 countries for abuse before and after 1998 and abuse was found in all of the additional countries before and after 1998. It’s validating to read what adoptees have been speaking about for decades. However, this time it’s an independent report giving advice to a governing body who “seems” to be listening. I emphasize "seems," as just with any political headline that circulates, it’s important to read the fine print and actually see the practical reform measures put in place. First, the Minister of Legal Protection, Sander Dekkers, recognizes the Dutch government’s lack of responsibility taken in these illegal practices, which for adoptees is a gigantic step of finally being heard. Initial measures include the establishment of a center for “post-care” servicing, as recommended by the committee, to facilitate birth family searches, and access to adoption files. Furthermore, the statute of limitations will no longer be invoked in proceedings of adoptees against the Dutch government. This is relevant to Dilani Butink, an adoptee who filed a lawsuit in 2020 against the Dutch government due to her illegal adoption, but whose case was thrown out of court due to this very statute of limitations. However, if after a year of investigations an independent committee has confirmed that these illegal practices have occurred, why should the victims then be forced to file a lawsuit in order to receive justice for the crimes committed against them? Isn’t this, yet again, a lax response  by the government shirking responsibility? Will this result in just an explosion of headlines, only to fizzle out and disappear, leaving children to continue to be exploited by the inter-country adoption process? Only we, as adult adoptees, can determine this fate. Just as the report also recognizes that the reason why public sentiment has slowly been changing in regards to adoption being seen as “doing something good,” is largely due to adult adoptee voices. As adopted children have become adults and have been voicing their truths (oftentimes after searching for their origins and uncovering illegal practices) and fighting for justice; truth is prevailing and becoming louder than the lies surrounding adoption practices. Suspension of inter-country adoption in the Netherlands is due to the committee’s recommendation and conclusion: “The system of inter-country adoption with private elements cannot be maintained in its current form. The committee has serious doubts about whether it is possible to design a realistic public-law system under which the abuses identified could no longer occur. Pending the outcome of the decision-making process, the committee recommends suspending inter-country adoption.” This suspension is due to adoptees having the courage to use their voices and fight for current and future adoptees. I will continue to speak, even if my voice and audience are small. However, if we collectively speak, then the noise can only become louder. Then, it won’t only be the Dutch government listening, but every country in the world that hosts adoption. From one adoptee to another, we’re two million strong, so please unite and join the movement: #NotAThing.

Mermaids do exist…. A free diver can swim underwater without the aid of a breathing apparatus. They hold their breath for as long as possible and explore the ocean. There are different communities of free divers around the world. Some of them participate competitively, while others do it as a source of livelihood. One example of the latter is a group of divers who are often called haenyeo. A haenyeo is a free diver on Jeju Island off the coast of South Korea. They are mainly elderly women with the capacity to swim up to 30 meters. They catch a variety of sea life, including shellfish and seaweed. Their catch of the day is their life source. They eat it, sell it, and sustain it. Writer Tina Cho and illustrator Jess X. Snow collaborated to tell a wholesome story that displays love and respect for this Korean tradition in "The Ocean Calls: A Haenyeo Mermaid Story." This children’s book depicts the daily life of a haenyeo while telling a story of a young girl named Dayeon and her bonding experience with her grandmother. Her grandmother teaches her how to become a haenyeo with lessons about embracing the ocean despite many fears. Dayeon also examines the many joys and beauties in the ocean. The beauty shines in bold colors of orange, yellow, blue, and purple. The orange and yellow rays of the sun are present on every page. They constantly give a sense of warmth and abundance. This sensation makes the haenyeo lifestyle look welcoming, even though it is laborious. Shades of blue accentuate the freedom and the depth of diving in the water, which looks like home for the women. Purple counterbalances the force of the other colors with a calming sentiment. A sentiment, which is important for the divers to have because of the dangerous nature of their work. To complement the colors, the pictures often celebrate the meaning of community. Multiple scenes have the group of women either huddling together or assisting one another. Of course, there are also scenes of the divers harmoniously swimming with the creatures of the ocean. A wealth of knowledge is also available in the back of the book. The brief, factual context helps to tell a bigger story that goes beyond a family tradition. Like many other traditional lifestyles around the globe, such as the golden-eagle hunters of Mongolia and mountain climbers of Nepal, the traditional lifestyle of the haenyeo are diligently protected and supported by a few organizations. Their culture is worth preserving. Haenyeo have priceless experience with the ocean and humane fishing. As the author explains, their impact is vital for “indigenous businesswomen and indigenous marine biologists.” "The Ocean Calls" can instill a sense of pride for tradition, and it can also provide appreciation for marine life. This is worth reading out loud with a child or alone; try whistling like a mermaid: Hoowi!

Ivy Lin was taught how to shoplift by her grandmother and uses her skill to acquire the necessary items to fit into suburban America. Perhaps, her biggest reward was grabbing the attention of Gideon Speyer. Years later, Ivy is an adult and runs into Gideon’s sister, Sylvia. Their serendipitous meeting sparks a new relationship with Gideon and his family, but when someone from Ivy’s past also reappears, she is faced with new challenges and decisions as she works to uphold her new, perfect American life. "White Ivy" by Susie Yang was a slow burn for me. While I could relate to Ivy as a Chinese-American working hard to fit in, that was where my connection to her ended. I didn’t find Ivy to be that likable of a protagonist; however, Susie Yang did a great job of making me feel for Ivy despite not liking her. While I didn’t always agree with Ivy’s behavior, her struggle to rise to the top as an immigrant was raw and gritty. For much of the story, I would classify this as an immigrant story and literary fiction. Towards the end, it began shifting more towards a thriller. I predicted one of the twists, but was still deeply engrossed in the aftermath that Ivy experienced. The final twist wasn’t exactly of the thriller genre, but was still big enough to potentially change the entire course of Ivy’s life. Again, I’m not sure I agree with her choices, but do appreciate how they remind me that life is complicated, and humans are complex. "White Ivy" was a unique and raw look at a coming-of-age, immigrant story that shows just how complex and manipulative people can be. The question is: “How far is one willing to go to make it to the top?”

Boxes I’m trapped feel trapped in a box There’s no way out There’s a door but it’s locked I’m filled with doubt I need to get out Let me spread my wings There’s no correct route The silence still rings People will leave And people will go But I’m trapped in this box And no one will know What is your Problem What is your problem With the color of my skin It is different than yours You act like that’s sin “Racism was long ago” “Leave it behind us” You say this to me Then blame me for a virus What is your problem What did I do I may not be from here But neither are you Who Do You See What do I wear How should I do my hair So much to decide But do I really care? Who do I dress for Is it me or is it you All of these choices I don’t know what to do What do you like Versus what I prefer No matter what I do You will only see her Lauren is a regular contributor for The Universal Asian. To learn more about her, check out her Contributor’s Page here.

Recently, two major events happened in South Korea that hit world headlines. The first one was about a single mother who put her child up for sale on the Korean form of Craigslist for 200,000 KRW (approx. 175 USD). The media went crazy, and adoption lobbyists staked their claim in justifying her actions because the Korean government has made child registration mandatory, thereby creating an “obstacle” for women to anonymously give their child up. As a result, adoption lobbyists have championed for changing laws in order to make adoption more accessible, and have demanded that mandatory child registration be retracted. The South Korean government sent out a somewhat positive message as they promised to reform support for single parents. However, tackling the issue of how a 27-year-old woman came about to having to resort to listing her child for sale still has not been addressed. The media confirmed that the father was unwilling to take responsibility. However, the following questions remain unasked/unanswered: “Where was her family or at the very least social services, to support her in the helplessness she felt?” “What kinds of resources were at her disposal for her mental health?” News reports have stated that she resorted to these desperate actions three days after giving birth at a postnatal center, and that she had planned to enter a single mother’s facility after being discharged. It is not difficult to imagine, if even only to some small degree, as to the utter despondency she was experiencing. The lack of societal understanding, the immense amount of stigma surrounding unwed mothers, and the lack of social welfare support to provide her with the financial and mental health resources to be able to care for her child are what pushed her to making this this cry for help. South Korea has been exporting children since 1955 due to social stigmas. It was first due to biracial children who were fathered and abandoned by foreign soldiers during and after the Korean War. However, in the 1970s and 1980s, at the peak of adoptions, it was due to unwed mothers, which to this day remains the main cause of international and domestic adoption in South Korea. When will this structurally change? When will the stigmas surrounding unwed mothers end? When will the preservation of first families be prioritized over a culture that places hiding shame and practicing exclusion as its emphasis? Then, something so tragic hit the headlines that social media, both in South Korea and around the world, is abuzz with #sorryjeongin, where, Jeong-in, a 16-month-old girl was murdered by her adoptive parents, only eight months after being adopted. Her injuries were so severe that when SBS (Seoul Broadcasting System) tried to replicate, in their investigative documentary, how she died, only a boxer landing a full heavy blow could achieve the force required to get the degree of pancreatic rupture she had experienced. SBS also showed how the police failed to investigate Jeong-in’s case after several people, including daycare center workers, had filed reports months in advance. Holt Children Services, who were in charge of her adoption, made an official apology, but shirked any form of responsibility stating that they had followed all procedures mandated by the government. There were three house visits, including two that had been immediately conducted after child abuse reports were claimed. According to the Korea JoongAng Daily, Holt only asked the adoptive parents to take better care of the child and made multiple phone calls afterwards for another visit, but were rejected. Holt asked the Gangseo Child Protection Center, which has investigative power, to get involved and take action, but nothing was done. To this day, agencies within the government and private sector continue to point the finger of blame at one another, but for Jeong-in it is all too late­—her precious life snuffed out. As the uproar continued via petitions posted on the website of South Korea’s seat of government—the Blue House—in which demands for a harsher sentencing of the adoptive parents and for someone to be held accountable have been made with more than 200,000 signatures in a day, President Moon Jae-in made a statement. During his New Year’s press conference he stated in response to a reporter’s question and to the chagrin of many: “Even after adoption, the adoptive parents need to check if the adoption is working out for them. So there should be complementary measures allowing them to cancel the adoption, or if they still want to adopt a child, they should be able to change the child.” This has resulted in another societal uproar as his comments were streamed live on Youtube, and the majority of people have recognized the fact that exchanging a child in the adoption process is wrong no matter the reason. If an adoption has led to this path even being considered, then there many errors were clearly made from the beginning. President Moon’s party defended his comments stating that they were taken out of context and that he was referring to what those in the States know of as the foster care system. However, even if this was the case, how could a former human rights lawyer, politician, and the President of South Korea be so inarticulate? Adoptees, adoptive parents, and everyday citizens have been outraged at the mere notion that he could relate a child in an adoption process to a commodity that can be exchanged. All of this has given rise to a campaign started by a small group of adoptees consisting of Allison Park, Cam Lee, Patrick Armstrong, Kevin Omans, Brenna McHugh, Valerie Reilly (graphic designer), Richard Peterson, Sarah Monroe (videographer), and myself (Kara Bos). None of us are doing this as members of a specific organization. We are individuals who have been brought together under the cause of speaking out against these insensitive comments. We are each doing our part in trying to open the road to change in the decades-long struggle of securing adoptee rights in South Korea. We make up the core team that has launched #NotAThing #물건아니야—a social media movement that seeks to create online viral support from all of the parties involved in the adoption process in recognizing adoptees as human beings and not commodities. We aim to use our righteous anger about adoptees being viewed as commodities as the momentum to facilitate and demand an apology from President Moon Jae-in along with a meeting that includes decision-making leaders in his government to collaborate with all of the parties involved to create effective change. We are doing so in the form of creating support for our petition at: www.change.org/wearenotathing. We recognize that an apology isn’t enough to prevent another horrific tragedy like Jeong-in was cruelly subjected to from happening again, which is why a meeting with President Moon and those who can facilitate structural change is the real reason behind the campaign; thereby, creating an opening that will allow local advocacy groups and adoptee voices be a part of reforming the current adoption system. The Korea Herald and The Korea Times are both interested in sharing our campaign and in elevating our voices. Online and front-page headlines may bring our campaign to the forefront, but will it be effective? Will it garner enough support to get the attention of President Moon? As of today, January 27, 2021, we only have 1,100 signatures on our petition. There are more than 200,000 of us spread out around the world, and only 1,100 signatures of support… How can we expect the average person to care about adoptee rights or the fact that we shouldn’t be seen as commodities if even our own don’t support us? Time is of the essence, so I can only hope and pray as #NotAThing #물건아니야 continues to spread, and as more adoptees and other individuals share and make their own videos of support that the fears of being ignored will be quelled. Will you please join us in ensuring that current and future adoptees are seen, heard, and protected? Will you help us create an open doorway in ensuring that if an adoption is processed it is done correctly the first and only time? I would encourage you to not just “like” our movement, but to become our movement by making your own video and letting your voice be heard. Too many of us as adoptees have been silent long enough. Jeong-in had her voice silenced because of the silence of others. Let us raise our voices together and let us be heard, so that no other adoptee is ever silenced again.

All original images by A.D. Herzel. Do not copy or use without direct permission from the artist.

Age 1 “Ba-ba-ba-baaa-ba-ba…” “No, bunny, say ma-ma-mmmma. Mama. Mama.” Age 3 “When I’m big, I want to be an artist.” “No, muffin, that’s not a job.” Age 5 “When I grow up, I want to work at a check-out.” “No, sweetie, that’s a job for dumb people.” Age 7 “When I grow up, I want to be a mail carrier.” “No, dear, you hate walking!” Age 9 “When I grow up, I want to be a librarian.” “No, honey, librarians have no personality.” Age 11 “When I’m older, I want to be a nurse.” “No, you couldn’t handle blood!” Age 13 “When I’m older, I want to be a marine biologist.” “But you’ve never even been to the ocean!” Age 15 “When I’m older, I want to be a doctor.” “But math and science aren’t your thing!” Age 17 “When I go to college, I want to study art history.” “But that’s such a waste of money!” Age 19 “When I finish this year, I want to study abroad.” “But that’s such a waste of time!” Age 21 “When I finish college, I want to work for the—” “But you need to go to grad school!” Age 23 “Graduation is May 15 at 11 a.m.” “But it’s too far to drive.” Age 25 “I’m enjoying my independence.” “But you need to settle down.” Age 27 “I met someone—he’s brilliant.” “But your cousin said he’s an atheist.” Age 29 “We’re moving across the country.” “But that’s so far from me!” Age 31 “Your first grandchild.” “Beautiful—maybe she’ll be the success I’d always hoped you’d be.” Erika is a regular contributor for The Universal Asian. To learn more about her, check out her Contributor’s Page here.

In the Savannah Quiet and silent Stalking their prey Out in the jungle In the sun all day All of the creatures They play hide and seek Looking for food Looking to eat Preying and lurking They hide in tall grass Their strategies working As the long hours pass Poems Sometimes I rhyme Sometimes I do not Taking my time I am what you sought I tell you emotions There’s no right or wrong In form of a poem Or form of a song Write what is fun Everything you desire Let creation flow Let your thoughts take you higher Lauren is a regular contributor for The Universal Asian. To learn more about her, check out her Contributor’s Page here.

Seasons Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall Every season, I do recall A moment in which I was filled with cheer At least once per season, every year Challenges rose and hard time came I treated my life just like a game Summer is too hot, then leaves start to die Never once did I ask why Winter is frigid and Spring bring rain Now my life is filled with pain I hope one day on a summer’s noon I’m lucky to feel like a Spring flower’s bloom Education I do what I am able But the system is not stable I teach you what they want I am sorry if I’m blunt The school system is broken At 6am you’re woken To learn something you won’t use Instead of learning virtues I know it’s knowledge you desire But I grow very tired This material isn’t needed The Man is so conceited Let’s teach about life skills And how to pay our bills Instead you know quadratic And they just say we’re over dramatic What I’ve Learned I’ve done a lot of reading I’ve done a little writing I’m not gonna stop until we can stop fighting People against one another Race against race We’re all the same people sharing the same space I can’t imagine the life that you’ve lived The struggle that you’ve faced But you can’t let all that experience go to waste I’m done being silent I’m done being kind If I hear another slur I’m gonna lose my damn mind I am a person and that is that You don’t need to know where I’m from because you know where I’m at I live next you You see me everyday But you treat me different because I’m a different race I’m the same as you and you’re the same as me Difference is the way we view ”liberty” Stand with me in the fight for our lives I don’t care if you’re Asian, Black, or White We need to come together and show them what we’ve got You may think we’re small, but we can change a lot. Lauren is a regular contributor for The Universal Asian. To learn more about her, check out her Contributor’s Page here.

The biological imperative is a force that all organisms abide. From a single-celled organism to the largest plant, animal, or virus, all have one purpose; to procreate. As an artist, a woman, and a mother, I have tracked the course of this imperative as it has played out in every stage of my life. From my birth mother’s surrender, my importation, my American and religious education, my education as an Asian woman in American society, my marriage to a white man, the birth of my sons and the subsequent issue of raising them in the American south. The seed of procreation remains constant. The procreation of religion, social ideas, and political structures were all well-aligned like a cattle shoot for my life. A western colonial war and subsequent military industrialization facilitated the circumstances of my birth mother’s choices, or lack thereof. The Christian missionary machine fostered me and ferried me into the arms of another seemingly Christian home in a white suburban society. Some people search for purpose or are told there is a plan for their life. The plan for my life was clear in the beginning; I was to be a descendant of my adopted mother’s dreams, her culture, and her version of the great white-American kingdom of God. It sounds uncouth to say it that way, the sarcasm tinges too bitter, but how else will you taste all the flavors of the American pie? It is a very romantic hook to say, God has a purpose for you, and He does. You can follow him, if you want. He does have a plan for you but let us be clear it is his plan. My earliest memories, perhaps my Korean ones spoken in my head with a language I no longer recognize told me my “adoption” was a mistake. But the plan was in motion, and I was a child on the wave of history much larger than myself; and so I was offered to the God. In the Roman canon, the one I was raised in, women are likened to flowers, nature’s reproductive organ. At times, she is revered and worshiped like Aphrodite, but more often among the mortals she is desired, conquered, raped, scorned, metamorphosed, and then at times used in death as Medusa was. There may be construed some sense of justice. Medusa’s head did prevent the death of another woman, the princess (i.e. a woman) was saved. But upon closer examination the saving of a princess through the death and dismemberment of another is a less discussed narrative in polite society. In all honesty, Perseus could have asked Medusa if she would kill the monster herself, but he was given poor advice from the three cursed witches. Too many tropes to unpack there. Let us simply say when one inserts a male protagonist, things often don’t logically or happily unfold for women who are not princesses. Fiction and myth, as lovely as they are, offer us poetry so we mortals can bear all in life that is not. In the Korean cosmology women are also identified with flowers. There is a tradition of paper flowers, Jihwa created for rituals. The “sinmyeongkkot (spirit flower) or muhwa (shamanic flower), are considered sacred,” and used as ornamental offerings. There are large imaginary flowers believed to frighten off ghosts and other ornamental flowers created to invite one’s ancestors. As a universal symbol of femininity, desire, and reproduction I draw flowers on the golden silhouettes of my adoptees. The flowers inspired by the desires of their adoptee mothers, ornament the shadows of their “adopted” daughters. Are they idols, reliquary figures, fertility offerings or just golden dreams, dreams of gold? For five years, I was infertile, and my work reflected the counting of days, red and white. I also created drawings of large ornaments. I imagined my reproductive organs had become just that, useless ornamental designs. After miscarrying, my husband and I did two things. We took a trip to his hometown in Buffalo, NY, and on a lark, we crossed the border to Ontario and visited the Temple of the Ten Thousand Buddhas Sarira Stupa. In the temple, I stood in front of the golden buddha and said one prayer. After our trip, we both got tattoos. I chose the flower of White Tara—the goddess of consolation—and he chose a rendering of an octopus by E. Haeckel. Soon after, without hormones or interventions and perhaps kickstarted by my previous miscarriage, my body opened like a flower and we conceived our first son Maxim; my truth. Sinmyeongkkot—my spirit flowers, I have named each of these children as I know they have become, or as I have read in their expressions and their postures. Each one is not just a single flower, but rather a garden of Eden. A.D. Herzel is an Asian-American artist and writer who has shared her work nationally and internationally. You may learn more about her and her work by following her on social media and visiting her website. Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/pseudopompou FB: https://www.facebook.com/PseudoPompous Website: https://www.pseudopompous.com Medium: https://medium.com/@pseudopompous

Stray Kitten Fur as soft as a goose down bed Button nose and small round head Catching mice and playing round Then at night they sleep so sound Walk all over you when trying to work Opening food and see their ears perk Once a stranger and now a friend I’ll take care of you until the end Beautiful koi Watch as they grow The magnificent koi fish swims to and fro Down in the shallows, down below These wonderful fish have nowhere to go Never once do they complain As they swim in the rain Nothing to let go, nothing to gain Beautiful koi They swim round and round Sit next to their pond Get lost in the sound Lauren is a regular contributor for The Universal Asian. To learn more about her, check out her Contributor’s Page here.

For decades, Asian Americans have been referred to as the “model minority” because we’ve seemingly achieved the American dream by working hard and keeping our heads down. While some may view the term as harmless—positive, even—it actually has many negative consequences that hurt our selves, our children, and other communities of color. The Truth Behind the “Model Minority” The term “model minority” first appeared in 1966 in a New York Times Magazine article by sociologist William Pettersen. In "Success Story, Japanese-American Style," Pettersen praised Japanese Americans for overcoming war-time oppression and poverty to attain an integrated, middle-class status in only two decades. This, he claimed, was achievable because Japanese Americans were a hard-working, law-abiding, respectful, morally sound group; they were like white people and perfect models for American success. However, Pettersen’s praise, given in the height of the Civil Rights Movement, was pointedly duplicitous. It implied that African Americans had only themselves to blame for continued poverty, discrimination, low achievement, and lack of opportunity: the “if they can do it, why can’t you” brand of ignorance. So in this way, the white establishment separated Asians from Blacks, hailing the former as perfect examples of self-made success, and dismissing the latter as both inept and indolent. Since then, many ethnic and national groups have been looped into the “model minority” circle with Japanese Americans, and white institutions still use all of them as a tool of oppression. They continue to blame African Americans themselves, not systemic racism, for persistent gaps in opportunity and achievement. In just 2017, Andrew Sullivan wrote for New York Magazine: “Asian-Americans, like Jews, are indeed a problem for the ‘social-justice’ brigade. I mean, how on earth have both ethnic groups done so well in such a profoundly racist society? It couldn’t possibly be that they maintained solid two-parent family structures, had social networks that looked after one another, placed enormous emphasis on education and hard work, and thereby turned false, negative stereotypes into true, positive ones, could it?” I don’t know—maybe I shouldn’t feel so shocked. Pitting minorities against one another in order to downplay (or ignore) systemic racism is a well-worn strategy. What isn’t commonly discussed, however, is just how much damage the “model minority” label does to Asian Americans themselves. The Asian Diaspora in America When people hear the term “Asian Americans,” they tend to think of East Asians; therefore, “model minority” is typically applied to people of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean origins. Over the last few decades, Indians have also “earned” model minority status. A Pew Research analysis of US Census data from 1970 to 2016 shows that Indians—as well as Filipinos, Sri Lankans, and Japanese—tend to attain degrees and earn income well above national averages. So, if we have data that supports the model minority ideal, what’s the problem? Well, the Asian American community is extremely diverse. Asian Americans originate from 20-plus different countries throughout the East Asian, South Asian, Southeast Asian, and Central Asian regions. The “model minority” label magnifies the experiences of just a few groups while rendering the others invisible—others who struggle to obtain things like education and employment, as well as respect and understanding in their American communities. Glaring Disparities: Not All Asians are Crazy Rich The same Pew analysis I mentioned above went on to show glaring disparities among Asian Americans. There are many groups—particularly the Hmong, Bhutanese, Burmese, Nepalese, Bangladeshi, and Mongolians—with higher-than-average numbers of households living below the poverty line. These groups are less likely to complete higher education or training and subsequently hold skilled employment. They originate from poorer countries and are more likely to face language barriers. Many come to the US through refugee or other resettlement programs, not as students, H1-B workers or other people with sought-after skills. The way in which different Asians start their lives as Americans is not equitable. The “model minority” label magnifies the success of a few and generalizes those experiences across the Asian diaspora. Meanwhile, the stories of our most vulnerable stand largely unknown or ignored. The label hurts in other ways too. It promotes the idea that the US is a meritocratic society. It perpetuates the myth that those who “fail to achieve” have done so because they simply made poor choices, didn’t work hard enough, or refused to adopt the norms of the dominant (i.e., white) culture. It unfairly poses the “they’ve done it, why can’t you” question to even more people who exist outside of a system that wasn’t created for them. A Backhanded Compliment The “model minority” label certainly hurts disadvantaged Asians, but it also hurts those to whom the label is applied. To be a “model minority,” we are asked to assume a white identity, yet no matter how acculturated we become, we’re still the “forever foreigner.” “Model minority” hurts our children. It perpetuates the stereotype that Asian students are both bright and studious with two parents who actively foster educational achievement. This ideal masks the social realities of Asian students who do not fit that construct. As such, many Asian children and teens are overlooked when educators are identifying students who could benefit from additional support, whether it’s subject-specific, English language, or psychological and emotional support. The worst consequence of being a “model minority” is that we are expected to be silent. “Model minorities” don’t create waves. We don’t call out injustice, we don’t demand more—and we don’t speak up for the brothers and sisters who don’t share our privilege. In this way, “model minority” is the perfect tool of oppression. Not only does it aim to keep us separate from other people of color, but it also keeps us divided among ourselves. Conclusion The model minority stereotype may seem harmless or even complimentary, but it’s problematic in so many ways. It promotes false realities, ignores institutional racism and other systemic barriers to success, and minimizes the experiences of many other Asian Americans. “Model minority” takes the experiences of a select few (who had certain privileges to begin with) and generalizes them across 20-plus nationalities and ethnicities, as if race is the only thing that determines success. “Model minority” isn’t an honor; it’s an oppressive tool with damaging consequences. For more information, please see the articles that are linked throughout this piece, as well as the following academic article: Impacts of the Model Minority Myth on Asian American Individuals and Families: Social Justice and Critical Race Feminist Perspectives by Kristy Y. Shih, Tzu Fen Chang, and Szu Yu Chen. See also Other People’s Success: Impact of the Model Minority Myth on Underachieving Asian Students in North America by Guofang Li.

Here I am standing in the big living room in the house I grew up in. My mother used to put cheap Christmas decorations on every inch possible. It was always warm, unorganized, and beautiful. I have depicted myself dressed in an imaginary hanbok, with colors and patterns from the Swedish national dress, specifically those from the northern area where I was raised (Västerbotten). In the cute and romantic Christmas postcards that were sent every year to family and friends, I saw small Santas, horse sleighs, and blonde kids playing in the snow. I put myself in this postcard. I’ve always been here. I have just never been a postcard. Merry Christmas from Cecilia Hei Mee, Stockholm, Sweden