All 10 episodes are now streaming on Hulu. At some point, we all wonder: are we the star of our own story or just another face in the crowd? Through the journey of Willis Wu — a man stuck between aspiration and the reality he's expected to accept — "Interior Chinatown" (2024) delivers a tale that is both strange and achingly familiar. Willis exists in a world where everything is scripted, literally. Conventionally cast as Generic Asian Man in a fictionalized cop show, he dreams of transcending the background role he's been relegated to. But breaking free means confronting the invisible rules that shape not just his life but the lives of everyone around him. "Interior Chinatown" weaves together biting satire, surreal imagery, and poignant drama in a humorous and heartfelt exploration of identity, ambition, and the spaces between who we are and who we long to be.  The novel that the show is based on bears the same name, and, ironically, is told through the unconventional framework of screenplay format, with shifting fonts and typography that mirror Willis's fragmented internal life. Despite the already-cinematic feel of the book, adapting it to the screen was no small feat. Author and show creator Charles Yu  recalls the challenge of manifesting the novel's dual worlds outside of a reader's imagination without losing their complexity. "I might just type a few words casually, and then all of a sudden I have 50 people asking me, okay, so what color is that? Or what does that look like?" he says. "In a bigger conceptual sense, the challenge is the book plays in a kind of liminal space, I would say. How do you make it clear that Willis is caught between two worlds? How do you make the world of the cop show, make it feel very real and literal, and then drop Willis into that world?" Taika Waititi , director of the pilot episode, brings those coexisting planes to life with strikingly different visual languages. "If you're thinking about the world around [Willis] from his point of view and how he sees himself, it's kind of bland and muted colors," says Waititi. "And it's all handheld, so it feels a bit rough and clumsy. Then you contrast that with the world of the show-within-the-show 'Black & White.' We wanted that to be heightened. People are backlit, and it's all special lighting, and the camera work [is] always smooth and slick." "We worked really hard on trying to make it feel like a '90s-style police procedural," Charles Yu adds. "Sometimes a little bit off-kilter and hopefully funny, but real enough that you get it, that it feels like the world that Willis wants to enter." "The really interesting thing is that [the procedural] is a world that [Willis] aspires to get into," says Waititi. "Coming from New Zealand, that would be like how I imagined everything to look [in Hollywood]. But when you think about the closer you get to those dreams or the closer you get to being a part of that world, the more you realise the world you come from is actually more beautiful." For Jimmy O. Yang, who plays Willis Wu, the character's struggle to break free from stereotypical roles is deeply personal. Reflecting on his own career, Yang sees many parallels between his journey and Willis's. "I think I've actually done a lot of these characters that Willis ends up being assigned to or has gone through through," he says. "I was Generic Asian Man. I was Chinese Teenager #1 on ' Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. ,' a show that Chloe [Bennet] was a star in, funnily enough. I also snuck in as the tech guy, right? Like on ' Silicon Valley .'"  While these roles were welcomed at the time, Yang recalls how he didn't fully realize he was being put in a box. "I think I kind of had a blind optimism about me in my younger self, that although I didn't see a lot of myself on TV or I didn't see people like me being the star, I was like, you know what? It's one thing at a time. It's one step at a time." As Yang's career evolved, so did his understanding of Asian representation in Hollywood. Reflecting on this particular project, he explains, "It means everything. I think I'm very fortunate to have actually gone through every single number on the call sheet to be able to inform and help tell this story. But just being able to be a part of this and bring my own self and my experience to bring this character to life was quite special." "I think people talk a lot about representation and seeing someone that looks like you on screen and how much that means, and I absolutely agree with that," Charles Yu confirms. "I also think it's important to see yourself in people that don't look anything like you. And I think we got to make this [show] with a really inclusive crew. Yes, I mean a lot of Asian Americans, but I also mean a lot of non-Asian Americans." "Getting to tell this story on a platform like Hulu with people like Taika and our cast and so many other people is an amazing chance to tell stories about people that don't normally get that treatment," Yu says. "To really humanize and add dimension to them." Just as the show spotlights characters who are often overlooked, "Interior Chinatown" also offers a critique of how women — especially women of color — are often defined by their relationship to men or reduced to a simplified version of their identity. Detective Lana Lee, played by "Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." star Chloe Bennet, makes her grand entrance on screen in slow motion, hair blowing in the conveniently-aimed wind, glowing with the magical light of heroism behind her. Initially presented as Willis's ultimate fantasy — both as a woman and a main character in his story — Lana is promptly hoisted onto a pedestal of tokenized desirability with little attention paid to who she actually is and what she might want for herself or struggle with.  Yet as Willis's story progresses, so does Lana's. She exists beyond her connection to Willis and the role she plays in catalyzing his so-called awakening, giving her character something far more complex and layered than the part that was written for her. "There's a mystery within Lana that is revealed throughout the season," says Chloe Bennet. "Tonally, I really wanted the performance to be something that you could watch the first time around and be like, oh, that makes sense. But then you could watch it again. And if you're really paying attention, there are cracks to her façade, whether it's just little glances or just acknowledging the larger truth of who she is or what she doesn't know about herself right away." "Each character has their own version of discovering who they are and ultimately finding where they belong," Bennet continues. "I think Lana is seemingly a real asset to help Willis figure that out. At the same time, she's stuck in her own world trying to find out where she fits, how she is her own main character." "I think it's relatable for women," Bennet adds. "The trope of your relevance depending on whether you're in tandem with a man or how you're servicing a man. For a lot of women in film and TV, that is a constant box that we are put in. And I think that the show addresses that in a really smart way." The mystery of Lana also cannot be separated from her race. Through her, the show points to how mixed-race characters navigate a tightrope of identity, forced to exist somewhere between idealization and marginalization. In the fictionalized cop show, Lana's purpose is to be proof that the police department is "culturally considerate" — a statement made openly and with poorly-hidden resentment. "She toes the line as being this icon that is ethnic enough," says Bennet. "Ethnically ambiguous. She's white enough that we can let her in." Bennet's connection to Lana's struggle with identity feels deeply personal, as she navigates her own experiences of balancing belonging and alienation as a mixed-race actress. "It's more than just not fitting in, not necessarily feeling whole," Bennet says. "Psychologically, you can start to tell yourself a lot of things about what you are or what you're not, especially if you're just constantly referred to as half of something. It's not something that fits into a box in a way that's satisfying for an entirely white world or an entirely Asian world. I didn't have to fake a lot of the feelings of frustration or feeling like an interracial pawn to satiate both sides of things." "And certainly, for [Lana], it's breaking out of that in a lot of ways," Bennet finishes. "For Lana, her bigger journey is trying to take another step closer to finding out where she belongs, what she wants, and what her story looks like if it's not about somebody else." Through "Interior Chinatown," Charles Yu reminds us that identity is never as simple as the roles we play or the labels we're given. Whether it's Willis striving to be more than Generic Asian Man or Lana's search for her own identity, the show peels back the layers of performance to reveal the intricacy of humanity. "It's about who we really are underneath and how we sometimes feel like we have to perform aspects of ourselves or aspects of other people's expectations — and then what happens when some of that starts to slip," says Yu. "Just finding those genuine moments of connection between people and authenticities is what I hope people really start to see the show is about." All 10 episodes of 'Interior Chinatown' (2024) are now streaming on Hulu. Based on Charles Yu’s award-winning book of the same name, the show follows the story of Willis Wu, a background character trapped in a police procedural called "Black & White." Relegated to the background, Willis goes through the motions of his on-screen job, waiting tables, dreaming about a world beyond Chinatown and aspiring to be the lead of his own story. When Willis inadvertently becomes a witness to a crime, he begins to unravel a criminal web in Chinatown, while discovering his own family’s buried history and what it feels like to be in the spotlight. CAST: Jimmy O. Yang, Ronny Chieng, Chloe Bennet, Archie Kao, Diana Lin Recurring guest stars include: Tzi Ma, Chris Pang, Annie Chang, Chau Long CREDITS: Series creator Charles Yu serves as executive producer, along with Dan Lin and Linsey Liberatore for Rideback; Jeff Skoll, Miura Kite, and Elsie Choi for Participant; Garrett Basch for Dive; John Lee; and Taika Waititi, who also directed the pilot. The 10-episode limited series is produced by 20th Television. Cover Photo: Courtesy of Hulu

Many people think of classical music as a thing of the past. Its compositions have stood the test of time, holding a unique place in cultural history. Works by people like Bach, Mozart, Brahms, Beethoven, Mahler, Wagner, Schubert, and more still have the industry in a chokehold, dominating elite classical music institutions and programs worldwide. However, classical music is undergoing a remarkable transformation. The world today is immensely diverse, and musicians are reimagining classical works, infusing them with new perspectives and cultural influences. So, instead of fading into stagnancy, classical music is expanding thanks to the dedication of musicians who are reshaping its narrative and relevance in ways that continue to captivate. Dr. Xenia Deviatkina-Loh , a talented violinist, pedagogue, and advocate for diversity in classical music, is one of the individuals leading the charge for change. Born in Sydney, Australia, and now residing in Los Angeles, Deviatkina-Loh’s journey with the violin began with her mother. “I was a fidgety child,” she jokes. “And she thought, hey, let’s get her into violin. Maybe my kid will be less fidgety.”  (That plan never worked out. Deviatkina-Loh is, she admits, still very fidgety.) While she found her passion for classical music early in life, Deviatkina-Loh’s pursuit of that track also revealed the inequalities entrenched within the industry. She became acutely aware of the challenges faced by musicians from low-income or underrepresented backgrounds. “It isn’t just down to basic costs, like violins,” she says. “Your strings, bows, maintenance, and lessons all amount to a big dollar sign.” “A kid in college, if they want to pursue [violin], the instruments probably go between a four-figure to a low five-figure. It shouldn’t be normalized,” she insists. “Where does that money come from? Not every family has the financial stability to do that.” Deviatkina-Loh is not one to shy away from a challenge. Recognizing the need for change, she got involved with the Asian Classical Music Initiative (ACMI). “It’d be easy if I just put my head down, which is such an Asian thing to do, right?” she says. “But I was always that kid who told my mom, ‘this isn’t fair.’” The ACMI is a pioneering effort committed to promoting the work of AAAPI classical music composers and musicians. Founded by graduate students at the University of Kansas, ACMI holds concerts and conferences to raise awareness and celebrate the cultural traditions of Asia, Asian America, and the Pacific Islands. ACMI’s work comes at an important time when conversations about DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) are at the forefront of both the classical music industry and the wider world. The initiative aims to address the often-invisible racial inequalities within the classical music community, particularly for Asian and Asian-American individuals. As a platform, ACMI offers musicians of all backgrounds a place to showcase their talents and contribute to a more inclusive classical music landscape. “It’s hard,” Deviatkina-Loh says. “It’s a lot of work, and yeah, that’s a reality. People don’t get comfortable with you speaking up.” Deviatkina-Loh’s work with ACMI is part of a larger movement within the industry to make a positive impact on issues related to diversity, representation, and inclusion. While there has been some progress made in recent years, there is still much work to be done to make sure that musicians of all backgrounds are given equal opportunities. ACMI’s efforts, along with those of individuals like Dr. Deviatkina-Loh, are paving the way for a classical music community in which talent knows no boundaries.

Now streaming exclusively on Apple TV+. On the rocky shores of Jeju Island, a remarkable culture hangs on by a thread, embodied in the lives of the haenyeo — South Korea's legendary female divers. "The Last of the Sea Women" (2024), a poignant documentary directed by Sue Kim, invites viewers into the underwater world of these resilient women, who have spent generations free diving for sea urchins, abalone, conch, and much more. But the traditions of the haenyeo face an uncertain future, as the film sheds light on the alarming environmental threats that jeopardize their livelihood and the delicate marine ecosystems they depend on. In exploring the intersection of culture and conservation, Kim's documentary serves as a powerful reminder of what is at stake — and the urgent need to protect both the haenyeo and the waters they call home. "I wanted to make this film because I wanted some sort of documentation out there and memorialization of who these incredible women were," says director Sue Kim, "whether or not we would continue to have them in future decades. So it was sort of an urgent mandate to make sure, at least for now, [that] the world knows who they are, even if they won't be around in the future, which I desperately hope is not the case. The history of the haenyeo goes back centuries — though it’s unclear how exactly the haenyeo came to be. Their legacy, however, is undeniably rich and complex, shaped by the ebb and flow of societal norms and economic pressures. Traditions passed down from generation to generation saw young girls starting their training at the tender age of 10, mastering the art of diving and navigating the unpredictable tides. Their risk-inclined lifestyle not only provided sustenance but also forged unbreakable bonds among the women, who continue to support each other through the myriad of life's challenges.  Today's haenyeo possess a vibrant spirit that defies their age, with most women in their 60s, 70s, and beyond — yet their energy remains undiminished. These fearless divers are far from delicate figures; they are a force of nature, often seen teasing one another, sharing laughter, and singing songs that echo across the water. Their camaraderie is palpable as they squabble and jab at each other playfully while donning their gear, a testament to their enduring bond. Each dive is a reflection of their physical strength, fierce independence, and an unapologetic embrace of their identities as proud matriarchs. Their spirit is a powerful reminder that aging does not diminish strength — it amplifies it.  Despite their tough nature, the haenyeo find themselves poised on the edge of extinction, confronting unprecedented threats from climate change and environmental degradation. "We had a scene where two of the haenyeo are [talking] about how dirty the water is and the pesticides that are running off and destroying the seagrass," Sue Kim recalls. "That's just part of their everyday conversation." Their connection to the ocean runs deep, intertwining their identities with the rhythms of the sea that have sustained them for generations. For the haenyeo, the ocean is not just a source of food; it is a vital part of who they are, fueling their determination to protect its fragile ecosystems. As they shoulder mounting pressures from a warming ocean, overfishing, and pollution — including the alarming discharge of treated radioactive wastewater from the Fukushima disaster — they are driven to activism.  "When the Fukushima nuclear water crisis really kind of confronted them, we just covered it exactly as they were learning about it," Kim says. "We had no intervention in the actions of the haenyeo. And you can see that in the town hall scene, where they're first learning about what this decision might mean for the health of the sea, they [get] so angry, and then it turns into this sort of unified, collective determination to protest it. That's just who they are. And it was such a gift for us to be able to cover it as it was happening." In a remarkable display of courage, haenyeo Jang Soon Duk even traveled thousands of miles to speak to the U.N. on behalf of the community, seeking to shed light on the challenges the haenyeo face and rally support for their cause.  Unfortunately, and the release of the wastewater will be continuing.  The consequences of that decision may not be seen for decades — which is precisely the issue. What future awaits the haenyeo? In 20, 30, 50 years, will there be an ocean healthy enough to support the society these women built? And within their community, as younger generations' interest in the hard lifestyle wanes, how can the haenyeo preserve their culture?  The documentary is able to comment on the latter. Sue Kim introduces Jin Sohee and Woo Jeongmin, two younger divers working to encourage other young women to keep the legacy of the haeneyo alive.  "We thought it was important to highlight Jeongmin and Sohee's haenyeo occupation as young women," says Kim, "and how they've kind of rebranded it by using social media and TikTok and YouTube to talk about what they're seeing under the water, [and] talk about what a cool and fun occupation it is for them." "One thing I appreciate about them is that they bring a very postmodern sensibility to the occupation," she continues. "They are haenyeo because it works; it solves very postmodern problems. Jeongmin needs a flexible working schedule as a working mom, and she can have that being a haenyeo. Sohee worked for eight years in a stuffy office with a cubicle, and she really longed to be outside. So she came to the haenyeo occupation wanting to commune with nature and have a more fulfilling work life. So I love that they've put this sort of new youthful spin on this ancient culture." As for the other uncertainties, unfortunately, there are no concrete answers. But one thing remains clear: the spirit of the haenyeo is resilient. Their deep-rooted connection to the ocean transcends generations, reflecting a way of life that is both unique and precious. Haenyeo Geum Ok Lee says it succinctly, "Even in my next life, I will dive again. Just an old woman and the sea, forever." About "The Last of the Sea Women" (2024): Run: 87 minutes Director: Sue Kim Producers: Sue Kim, Malala Yousafzai, Erika Kennair Featuring: Soon Duk Jang, Hee Soon Lee, Joo Hwa Kang, Im Saeng Ko, Geum Ok Lee, Jeongmin Woo, Young Ae Jeong, Sohee Jin, In Sook Park, Soon Shil Seo, Soon-E Kim, Mari Chang, Joo Hyun Kim Directors of Photography: Iris Ng, Eunsoo Chu Underwater Cinematographer: Justin Turkowski Production Companies: A24, Extracurricular

In the summer of 2008, Chris Wang, a 13-year-old Taiwanese-American boy, stumbles his way through friendship, family, and identity. He slouches in and out of the house where he lives with his mother, sister, and grandmother, never truly knowing what he’s doing or where he’s trying to go. He runs around with his friends—new and old—never feeling like he fully belongs with either group. He attempts to get closer to his crush, Madi, but fumbles and ends up alienating her in the midst of his angst. He tries so hard, and fails equally hard.  This is the curse of adolescence—an overdramatic existential ennui where everything is simultaneously A Big Deal and Not A Big Deal At All—and Chris serves as a painfully authentic reminder of how much we also struggled when we were 13.  Young actor Izaac Wang plays Chris perfectly, capturing an earnest desperation that is both sympathetic and repulsive. “It’s funny,” Wang says. “My initial impression was that I didn’t really like the character very much at all. It really wasn’t because Sean [Wang] wrote a bad character or that the script was bad. It was mostly just because [the character] was insecure, you know?” Like many 13-year-olds, insecurity is Chris’s primary driving force. It’s evident in the way he carries himself, the way he looks down more than up, and the expression on his face when his crush Madi’s insipid little friend makes fun of his last name.  He never feels like enough. Not smart or accomplished enough for his mother to brag about to her acquaintances, not charming or man enough to woo Madi, and not sure enough of what it means to be Taiwanese-American. And at his quietest, most vulnerable moments, free from the posturing and performance of immature masculinity, Chris’s humanity shines.  I keep fucking everything up , he writes, depressed, to a rudimentary AI chatbot. Everyone hates me and I have no friends. It’s so easy to judge Chris throughout this film. We cringe, roll our eyes, and sigh at his behavior—right up until this moment, when all of his protective layers have been flayed to reveal the raw flesh beneath.  “I’ve never tried to book a dramatic lead role,” Wang says. “And specifically for a character that was a little bit more vulnerable than me, and a little bit more under-confident. [Chris] just had an urge to fit in, which I didn’t have at that time. I had to dig a little deeper into myself and realize that my younger self—my 13- to 14-year-old self—was actually just like Chris.” That’s what makes “Dìdi (弟弟)” (2024) such standout from other coming-of-age films. This isn’t a typical hero’s journey where the protagonist struggles a little, overcomes obstacles, defeats his enemies, and gets the girl. In this film, the hero struggles a lot , trips repeatedly over obstacles, turns his friends into enemies, and doesn’t even come close to getting the girl. Because Chris isn’t a hero and we shouldn’t expect him to be; he’s a 13-year-old boy trying to learn how he fits into society just like everyone else.  In giving Chris a little grace for his very normal teenage messiness, we give our past selves grace for our own messiness.  The end of the film signals a shift, subtle but tectonic. It’s not quite a new beginning, because Chris is not reinventing himself. Instead, he’s getting more comfortable with himself, holding his head higher and walking through high school halls with shoulders relaxed instead of slouched.  When asked about what Chris’s high school experience might be like, Izaac Wang answers, “He’d probably gain more confidence. He’d probably make more friends. But I feel like he would never, ever get a girlfriend.” Perhaps not. Or perhaps he will.  “Hopefully he’d get a haircut and get rid of his bowl cut,” Wang jokes. “Hopefully he increases his fashion sense a little bit.” But whatever choices Chris makes in high school and beyond, “I hope the number one thing that he takes away from this is to gain more self-confidence and be more proud of yourself and who you are.” “Dìdi (弟弟)” (2024) is now playing in select theaters, Everywhere August 16. Director: Sean Wang Writer: Sean Wang Cast: Izaac Wang, Joan Chen, Shirley Chen, Zhang Li Hua, Mahaela Park Cover photo: Courtesy of Focus Features

Skateboard wheels on asphalt and a mellow, pulsing instrumental ease us into “Sunflower Girl” (2023), a tender yet poignant coming-of-age short film. Rosie (Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja), the narrator and protagonist, is a girl on the cusp of teenhood, her pale yellow shirt a nod to her true name, Kui — which means sunflower.  Rosie has a crush on a boy in her neighborhood, which leads her to make some hasty decisions that she may or may not end up regretting in the long run. It’s this awkwardly desperate, gentle spirit of early adolescence that director Holly M. Kaplan taps into in her nostalgic short film.  “So, COVID happened, and I moved back home [to New York City],” Kaplan explains. “Being in my childhood neighborhood and everything, old stomping grounds and the school I went to…it was really desolate. The city was completely dead. So [I] was just doing these walks to go outside and by myself and just be in these old environments. That kind of sparked this idea, these memories I had.” “I was remembering all these people from school,” she continues. “All of these things kind of just started coming into my head, and that’s when I think the wheels started turning.” There’s a warm haze that blankets every shot of the film, bathing the screen in a vintage summer glow. It’s not just aesthetic; it’s a thin veil cast over the past that both softens the edges and intensifies the emotions. It’s evocative, luminous, and absolutely gorgeous. This visual poetry complements Rosie’s journey in a time when the character’s world seems both expansive and suffocating. “I owe it to working with my incredible DP, Michael Cong,” Kaplan says. “We ended up choosing an older camera with vintage lenses. It helped sell that look, that [the film] was nostalgic.” Beyond her age, Rosie’s identity contains another layer that the film makes space to examine. She’s a second-generation Chinese-American, lending a specificity to the character’s perspective and filtering how she moves through the world and the choices that she makes.  “I hope [this story] resonates with Asian-American femmes,” Kaplan says. “Or Asian diasporic people who have the experience of feeling like they are an outlier in their family. Sometimes it’s lonely to be [that] one person. You’re kind of going against the grain and you’re doing what you like. That’s really the whole story of the film. It’s okay to be human.” “Sunflower Girl” has been selected for and screened in film festivals worldwide, from India to Sweden to the U.K. and Canada, a promising triumph for Kaplan. “We’re finishing up our last year of festival [submissions],” she says. “We’re waiting to hear back. Hopefully it’ll get into even more and we’ll be all around the world and still in the U.S. and all that.” “I think this honestly just taught me to believe in myself,” Kaplan concludes. “That’s the biggest lesson, I think.” “Sunflower Girl” will be screening this June  in Singapore, Poland, and Canada.  About the filmmaker: Holly M. Kaplan is a Chinese-American filmmaker, born and raised in New York City. Inspired and driven by ties to her mixed Cantonese heritage, Holly is invested in bringing narratives about the Asian diaspora and diversity to the forefront. She earned her BA in Film & Media Arts at American University and completed a filmmaking program at FAMU International Prague, where she filmed her first short, “THE LESSON.” A former apprentice to the late Independent Director/Producer Ben Barenholtz, Holly served as Director’s Assistant to Executive Producer/Director Lisa Soper and Director Alex Pillai on “PRETTY LITTLE LIARS: ORIGINAL SIN” (HBO Max). In 2022, Holly was selected for NALIP’s Latino Lens: Narrative Short Film Incubator for Women of Color sponsored by Netflix to write, direct, and produce “SUNFLOWER GIRL.” About the film: When a 13-year-old Chinese-American girl has the opportunity to go skateboarding with her crush, it comes at the cost of abandoning her little sister. https://sunflowergirlfilm.com/ Cover photo: Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja as Rosie. Photo by Luna Cristales. Courtesy of NALIP.

Tim Thornton is an adoptee, and identifies as a Korean-American adoptee (KAD). After becoming more curious about his Korean heritage, he discovered he was eligible for South Korean citizenship and decided to apply at the Seattle Embassy. The Universal Asian spoke to Tim to learn more about his KAD story, his experience applying for citizenship, and how he got in touch with his Korean roots. Tim’s origin story begins in 1953 when he was born as a Korean war orphan, who was adopted at 5 ½ years old to parents in Washington. It was here that he grew up in what Tim calls a “white bubble.” As a result, he said, “Most of my whole life, I didn’t really have any curiosity about my Korean roots because, looking back, a lot of it was because I thought I would never know.” It wasn’t until he was in his late 40s that he became curious and “tried to contact the orphanage in Seoul.” The orphanage revealed that all of Tim’s records were given to his adoptive parents, and so he stopped pursuing his journey to find out more about his Korean heritage. However, it was when his wife encouraged him to get a DNA test that he decided to have another go at seeking his Korean roots. “The DNA results didn’t show anything on my Korean side, but they did find my biological father, who passed away about 10 years ago,” Tim shared. From there, he discovered that he has six biological sisters on his father’s side, living on the East coast. “We’re all pretty close now. We have a lot of chats and FaceTimes and other ways to talk, and we visited them,” he said. While he is happy to have met his biological sisters, he still holds, what he calls “this really strong desire that just keeps snowballing” to find more information about his Korean heritage. This strong passion of his started when he joined the Air Force at 23. Being stationed in the Philippines meant he often saw military personnel and their families from Thailand, Japan, and Korea, which enabled him to get to “know more and more [about] Asian culture from that.” His desire to tune into his Asian roots grows “stronger [with] the more information I get, the more excited I get about trying to find the rest of the story.” This led to Tim finding out about South Korean citizenship, which he learned about from various Korean Adoptee Facebook groups. “[I saw] some links to stories, so I started following the stories. Then, I started researching myself, and then I contacted the Korean consulate,” he explained. For many, this may be a daunting process, yet for Tim it was the opposite. He said, “It’s not near as complicated as I thought [it would be].” Instead, the hardest part was “getting somebody to get the papers supplied translated into Korean.” Otherwise, this is something that Tim encourages other adoptees to pursue in the hopes that it may help them to get in touch with their Korean roots. He tries to “encourage the ones that are thinking about going [to Korea]. Sometimes it’s good just to get the information and know, because parents at my age level or generation aren’t around forever.” While he recognizes that not everyone wants to pursue their background, for those that do, he shared: “You have a clock that you might regret later if you waited too long,” and he encourages folk to use different resources to find out about their heritage. For Tim, Facebook groups have served as a lifeline for him to find a lead in regards to his family. Networking with other adoptees so that they can share their stories and give advice to each other has also helped him, which is something he didn’t always have. “I would say there was [a] lack of support for me growing up, [but] with the addition of social media…it’s helped a lot because the Facebook group is how I connected with 325KAMRA,” he said. 325KAMRA (Korean American Mixed Race Adoptees) is an organization that helps adoptees search for their families through DNA tests, which is something Tim used to help him find his biological siblings. The organization has also been instrumental in highlighting KAD stories, as Tim was part of a book by 325KAMRA that sheds light on adoptees. “I helped just write my story only, and then we had people that were brought together in that book,” he explained. Tim contributed to "Together At Last: Stories of Adoption and Reunion in the Age of DNA" so that he could “give back, because [325KAMRA] were so instrumental in helping me find everything I never would have done without them,” and is happy to be a part of the book. Though he has been able to find some of his biological family, he is still keen to search for his Korean mother, which he has a lead on. A friend of Tim’s took his records back to Korea who, via various online genealogy groups, was able to reach out to various members of the Woo clans and one of them said, “He [Tim] is one of ours.” Excited that he may have a paper trail of his family, Tim hopes to pursue that by visiting Korea in October. Tim will collaborating with us in the event "Korean Citizenship Restoration with Tim Thornton" that will be held on May 26, 2021. Click here for details to register to join this free event.

The Universal Asian got to speak with Justinian Huang, author of "The Emperor and the Endless Palace." Lockdown in 2020 was a massive change for all of us, and we had to find our own ways to cope with the isolation. Many people used the now-empty slots in the day for reading books, finally crossing titles off of lists that had been abandoned for years, maybe decades. Some people might have even tried their hand at writing a book. That’s what newly-published author Justinian Huang did. And he didn’t just write a book. Inspired by personal heartbreak, he wrote a breathtakingly large, unapologetically spicy queer Asian love story that spans three lives and a total of two thousand years. Justinian Huang didn’t start out as a writer. Before publishing “The Emperor and the Endless Palace,” he was a career film executive. “To be honest,” he admits, “I really miss being a film exec.” (His most recent position in the film industry was VP of Creative at Sony Pictures Animation, citing the wonderful team there as his main reason.) “Being in that seat as an executive, being a gatekeeper, you can really enact a lot of change,” he continues. “When it comes to my projects, I need to make sure that at least one of the directors in every project is a woman, is a person of color, or is queer. And that was my directive.” Before Sony, Huang worked as the head of development at Dreamworks Pearl in Shanghai. It was there that the first sparks of what would become “The Emperor and the Endless Palace” were lit. “When I was young and I came out to my family, I was told by other Asian folks that me being queer doesn’t work because Asian people aren’t gay,” he says. “That’s not a thing for us. So when I heard about this Ancient Chinese emperor and his lover, Dong Xian, and how their epic love story brought down the first Han dynasty, I was just like, holy shit. We queer Asians have been fucking up shit for a while. And not just that; it means that, as a queer Asian person, I’m descended from the most noble of lineages.” “I knew then,” he continues. “I was like, I need to write something about these two boys—because they were boys. They were 19 and 20 when they met. It’s just so epic. It’s the greatest love story never told.” It wasn’t just their love story in Huang’s mind when he wrote the book. It was also his own. “During that time [in Shanghai], I fell in love with two men. One of them was born in China, the other one was born in Taipei. And when I came back home because of the pandemic in 2020, I wasn’t thinking about my career. I was thinking about them. And I realized, what if they are the inspiration, finally, for this book? I want to write about this emperor and his lover. What if I can put their personalities into this?” Dong Xian and Emperor Ai are among the most notable queer figures in history (at least in Asia) despite the lack of records about the details of their individual lives. “There’s not much known,” Huang says. “The most famous story is called ‘The Passion of the Cut Sleeve,’ in which the emperor and his lover were taking a nap. The lover was asleep on the emperor’s shoulder, and instead of waking his lover up, the emperor cut off his own sleeve.” Ultimately, in blending the emperor’s love story with his own, Justinian Huang was able to put the major pieces together for his book. “When [I’m] writing historical fiction, I focus more on the fiction and less on the historical,” he says. “What will create the most compelling story for my reader is what I focus on.” “I wrote the first draft in two months during the pandemic lockdown of summer 2020, and it just spilled out,” he recalls. “I didn’t sleep for like four weeks. My mom came to visit me at one point, and she thought I was dying because I was so thin and haggard. It [was] just one of those things where you wait and wait and wait, and it just explodes out of you.” Now, after publishing “The Emperor and the Endless Palace,” Justinian Huang is still processing what it means to have broken that glass ceiling in publishing a romance novel with two queer Asians as the leads. Being a queer Asian himself, he’s also stepping into the spotlight as an identifiable voice in both the queer and romantic literature spaces. It can be rewarding: “I’ve been getting complaints that people have been losing sleep,” he laughs. “Three times, I’ve gotten messages on Instagram from people, at 4 a.m. in their region, being like ‘damn you, I didn’t sleep last night because of your book.’ And that’s such a great compliment! I also get so many messages from queer Asian folks saying that they felt so seen by this book and that they’re so happy it’s out there.” It can also mean more challenges to overcome: “In the book community, there is a lot of gatekeeping that happens. There’s been some resistance to my book by people who, for whatever reason, don’t think it’s valid and don’t think that it deserves to be stacked alongside other romance books.” However, that’s about to put Huang off. “I worked in the film industry a long time,” he shrugs. “I like shepherding projects of huge scopes and then seeing how people respond to it. I’m actually well-trained in it, and it’s easy for me to sort of dust it off my shoulder. Ultimately, when I think about the last couple of weeks since my book came out, I just have enormous gratitude.” “[The experience] has been very humbling, and I’m very proud,” he finishes. “When I first started writing this book and I told people I was writing a book about queer Asian folks—a romance between queer Asian folks, I was told all the time that none of the big publishers will ever touch this book because [it’s] way too niche. But we got a deal with HarperCollins, and they really believe in this book. And so I’m just very appreciative that the people that matter are embracing this book.” “The Emperor and the Endless Palace” is Justinian Huang’s debut novel. It will not be his last. “Similar to how my first novel is about the Eastern concept of reincarnation, my second book is about the Eastern concept of superstition, but told in the context of an epic family drama,” he shares. “So I’m very excited. I’m working on that right now. I like to call the tone of ‘Endless Palace’ romantic anguish. The tone of my second book is bitchy gay brunch.” About the Book: “A sweeping triumph in queer romance.” - Booklist “What if I told you that the feeling we call love is actually the feeling of metaphysical recognition, when your soul remembers someone from a previous life?” In the year 4 BCE, an ambitious courtier is called upon to seduce the young emperor—but quickly discovers they are both ruled by blood, sex, and intrigue. In 1740, a lonely innkeeper agrees to help a mysterious visitor procure a rare medicine, only to unleash an otherworldly terror instead. And in present-day Los Angeles, a college student meets a beautiful stranger and cannot shake the feeling they’ve met before. Across these seemingly unrelated timelines woven together only by the twists and turns of fate, two men are reborn, lifetime after lifetime. Within the treacherous walls of an ancient palace and the boundless forests of the Asian wilderness to the heart-pounding cement floors of underground rave scenes, our lovers are inexplicably drawn to each other, constantly tested by the worlds around them. As their many lives intertwine, they begin to realize the power of their undying love—a power that transcends time itself…but one that might consume them both. An unpredictable roller coaster of a debut novel, “The Emperor and the Endless Palace” is a genre-bending spicy romantasy that challenges everything we think we know about true love. Author’s Note: “The Emperor and the Endless Palace” is a heart-pounding romantasy, full of shocking twists, morally shifty characters, and erotic thrills. When it comes to the romance within this novel, you can expect equal parts mess and swoon, but its central thread is an epic tale of true love against all the odds. About the Author: Born to immigrants in Monterey Park, California, Justinian Huang studied English at Pomona College and screenwriting at Oxford. He now lives in Los Angeles with Swagger, a Shanghainese rescue dog he adopted during his five years living in China. “The Emperor and the Endless Palace” is his debut novel. Before becoming a novelist, Huang was a career film executive, most currently as the VP of Creative at Sony Pictures Animation. Prior to Sony, Huang was the head of development at Dreamworks Pearl in Shanghai where he worked on “Kung Fu Panda 3,” “Abominable,” and Academy Award–nominated “Over the Moon.”

Available in theaters July 7. “Joy Ride” hits like a solid punch to that white kid’s face: satisfying, but maybe not quite right. For many, this movie is just another fun summer feature to see with friends. For the AAPI community, it’s another inch gained in the enduring battle for more representation. For adoptees like me, however, it’s all that and more. The story goes like this: Audrey (Ashley Park) and Lolo (Sherry Cola) are best friends. They are both Chinese. But there’s a twist! Audrey is adopted. Fast-forward a decade, and Audrey is a polished, stressed-out overachiever chasing validation in the workplace, while Lolo swaggers through life as a broke artist revolutionizing the sculpture world one penis or vulva at a time. Oddly enough, the duo work perfectly as they are. Of course, that’s when everything changes, and what follows is almost too insane to put in words. Stephanie Hsu shines in the role of Kat, delivering a performance as devastating as her Oscar-nominated turn in “Everything, Everywhere All at Once” (2022)—only this time, the reason I couldn’t breathe was because I was laughing too hard. As enjoyable as the drug-infused, sex-crazed, tattooed shenanigans were, I found I was more moved by the quieter moments—the moments where, as an adoptee, I could recognize parts of myself on that screen. Ashley Park was fantastic in those anchoring beats, inviting the audience into the closely-guarded insecurity of Audrey with each flicker in her expression. I understood the dissonance in dealing with culture shock when entering your own birth country, the way she automatically gravitated towards white people instead of Asians. I flinched with her when Ronny Chieng implied she was incomplete without a family history to call her own. How are you supposed to know who you are without knowing where you came from? Identity is a lynchpin in so many AAPI films. Heritage, home, ancestors…these are the things an adoptee grows up without. This is the first movie I’ve seen that has allowed a character to react to a statement like that in a way that I truly understand. When Audrey found a piece of her past—the awkward convenience of Daniel Dae Kim being exactly where he was that day aside—I cried with her as she was introduced to the human behind the myth of Mother. I’m so glad I got to see those moments. With that said, here’s the reason why I’ll say that “Joy Ride” is not quite there for me. For a story centered on an adoptee, there seems to be little input, to my knowledge, from adoptees themselves in this creative process. There’s something fundamentally missing from this story, and it feels like what’s missing is an adoptee’s voice. There were plot and character things that stood out in a painfully awkward way, and I asked myself, “How did this get in here? Where were we in the writer’s room?” I don’t want to label “Joy Ride” as either a success or failure, because it’s not. It can be both, and still make sense as something to invest in and keep investing in. There are so many wins for the AAPI community in this movie that I can’t help but cheer it on and recommend it to everyone I meet. There’s sex positivity, diversity, queerness, comedy, family, and a heartfelt friendship to celebrate. But I want to be able to start a critical conversation parallel to the well-deserved praise, where we adoptees can feel like our voices are heard in the discussion of our representation. It’s past time to let adoptees have a hand in telling their own stories. So, almost. And I can’t wait to see what comes next. Cover photo: Courtesy of Lionsgate

You either know exactly who Michael Chow is, or you’ve never heard of him before. For the first time in his life, the mysterious figure behind the swanky restaurant chain MR. CHOW is allowing us a deeply personal glimpse into his life and history. “The first time I met him [in person] was the first day of the shoot,” says producer Diane Quon. “I would have to say, just like the film, you see all sides of his personality. It was an amazing experience meeting him.” “He was in his full artist outfit, a white coat,” editor Jean Tsien adds. “And he was really warm. He was super warm.” There are many parts of Michael Chow’s life and career that some would say belong in the spotlight more than others. He built an international empire with his chain of restaurants with locations in London, New York, California, Miami, Las Vegas, and Riyadh. He regularly rubbed shoulders with the crème de la crème of the art world, Hollywood, and miscellaneous social elite. He provided opportunities to immigrants of all backgrounds, making it a point to hire diverse staff at his restaurants. His career is absolutely astounding. And yet, that’s not what this documentary is truly about. “aka MR. CHOW” peels back that glittering curtain, pushes aside the Wikipedia page bullet points in favor of pure, stark honesty. Michael Chow’s story is not “just an immigrant story,” Jean Tsien explains. “I see Mr. Chow as someone who had to leave everything behind. And this story is really the universal story of the consequences of war.” Michael Chow was born Zhou Yinghua 周英华, in Shanghai. His childhood was cut short by the devastating impact of the Cultural Revolution, leading to his immigration to England at age 12. There, in a completely foreign land with no grasp of the language, he faced racism and discrimination as he tried to adapt to his new surroundings. He never saw his parents again. His father, a beloved master of Beijing opera, was imprisoned until death; his mother, beaten to death. Mr. Chow may be a larger-than-life persona, but Michael Chow’s tragedies and trauma are all too real. They shaped his life just as much as his successes did. That’s what this documentary sheds light on, especially in the political and global context of the film’s release. It’s an endorsement of empathy, an acknowledgement of pain, and a reminder to look for the human behind the headlines. “aka MR. CHOW” is currently streaming on Max. Find information about M aka Michael Chow’s art here. Cover photo: Courtesy of HBO

“The Tiger’s Apprentice” (2024) is a fantastical, fast-paced animated movie that sits comfortably in its seat on the streaming platform Paramount+. Filled with every familiar aspect of The Superhero Journey, the movie isn’t trying to be anything other than what it is: a fun adaptation of award-winning author Laurence Yep’s 2003 fantasy novel that kids and parents can enjoy together this Lunar New Year. The story follows quippy Chinese-American teenager Tom Lee, an excellent candidate for a rising superhero. He’s a heartfelt boy who gives off strong second-gen vibes and lives with his quirky, traditional (in the fun way) grandmother in a beautifully decked out house that is often confused for a temple. Apparently people keep leaving them oranges, but hey, free oranges! Tom has no other family to speak of, which unfortunately means that we see his grandmother’s death coming from miles away, but not before she and a seemingly random daddy-type stranger drop a huge bomb on him. All of the stories Tom’s grandmother told him when he was little are real. The Zodiac is a circle of elite warriors who each represent an animal of the Chinese zodiac, and A-ma stands at the center of them all as the Guardian of the Phoenix. Oh, and daddy-type stranger is one of said Zodiac warriors; his name is Hu, and he, y’know, can shapeshift into a handsome, muscular tiger. Things move very quickly after that. Tom gets the full run-down on the Zodiac and begins training with Hu, as he is now truly the Tiger’s apprentice. The film hits all the required beats: the full team lineup (featuring one flawless dragon with a drool-worthy hairstyle when in human form), training montages showcasing various levels of skill paired with a killer soundtrack, identity-related challenges, friction between mentor and apprentice mostly stemming from adolescent angst (who knew parenting a grieving teen was this hard, right Hu?)—all while playing an elaborate game of keep-away from the overwhelmingly evil Loo, voiced by a dark, slinky, and still elegant Michelle Yeoh. (See the full star-studded voice cast at the bottom of the page.) In the end, after the Zodiac has spent a considerable amount of time teaching Tom how to fight and the importance of fighting, what ends up defeating Loo once and for all is something that Tom’s grandmother told him in the first ten minutes of the movie. “A-Tom, we don’t use these,” she says, indicating his fists. Then she points to his heart and head. “We use this and this. We don’t have to fight. Besides, you’re not too good at it.” There is nothing surprising or new about this movie, but that doesn’t diminish the fact that the moral of this story should still ring true today. Life shouldn’t be about who’s the best at fighting, and maybe, we can solve more problems by unclenching our fists and choosing to stop. “The Tiger’s Apprentice” (2024) is now streaming on Paramount+. Directors: Raman Hui, Yong Duk Jhun, Paul Watling Screenwriters: David Magee, Christopher Yost Cast: Henry Golding, Brandon Soo Hoo, Lucy Liu, Sandra Oh, Michele Yeoh, Bowen Yang, Leah Lewis, Kheng Hua Tan, Sherry Cola, Deborah S. Craig, Jo Koy, Greta Lee, Diana Lee Inosanto, Patrick Gallagher, Poppy Liu Cover photo: Courtesy of Paramount

Can you share a bit about yourself and how your Asian identity shaped who you are? Today I am an artist, music producer, and songwriter living my dream of doing creative things every day and having my work be valued. I make it one of my primary goals to collaborate with as many Asian American artists as possible. So much of my life and work is informed by my personal journey as a human, a refugee, and Asian person in America. I was born in Vietnam, in a town called Dalat. I can only remember as far back as being a new immigrant in Southern California in the mid 80s. My mom was a single parent of five children, and I'm the youngest. We were dirt poor. We had to figure out how the American system worked, learn English, and meet our basic needs. The community who sponsored our immigration helped, and we made new connections in Southern California because it has such a large Vietnamese population, but it was challenging. I remember seeing my teenage siblings getting their first jobs and learning to speak English. I really respect all of my siblings for going through that process. We used to dumpster dive and collect cardboard and recyclables to redeem for small amounts of money. When I was small, they tossed me into dumpsters so I could fish out whatever we could find that we could use at home, like toys, food, or other household items. All of that really informed the way that I grew up, and I knew that our efforts counted for a lot. What has your journey as a creative been like? Even as a young child, I discovered that I had a knack for drawing and the visual arts. When I was around 5, I remember I drew this crazy drawing of a bird hovering above a neighborhood in a bird's eye view. The teachers asked how I knew how to draw from a bird’s eye view, and it just came naturally—or supernaturally. My mother recognized and supported me, and even my first grade teacher gave me free art supplies. I stayed after school to do art, and they submitted my work for exhibitions and contests. I ended up being accepted into a program called GATE, Gifted and Talented Education. As a teenager, I moved to Houston, Texas and went to a regular high school for my first year. There, I met some kids who asked me to join their pop punk band, and I didn’t know anything about music then. That was my first exposure to making music. I picked it up pretty easily, and I didn't realize I would eventually go into music. While in that band, the drummer attended a magnet high school, called HSPVA, which stands for High School for the Performing and Visual Arts. It was too late to apply, but everyone encouraged me to do so anyway. I ended up submitting my portfolio, and they actually accepted me, which changed my life. This changed my experience with art because I presented my work during critiques and actually had to verbalize why I was doing stuff. HSPVA introduced me to conceptual art, which blew my mind and definitely changed the way I thought about art. It wasn't purely about the artifact and how skillful the execution was anymore, it was about the idea and the process. To learn that as a teenager made me believe that the world really is my oyster, artistically. I'm so grateful to have had that experience and to meet all these other kids going through the same process. It was an environment where you just grew because you were encouraged by seeing everyone else grow. That high school was one of the top ten most informative moments in my life. What was your experience as an Asian American in the creative industry? During that time as a teenager, my mom told me even though we didn’t have a lot of money, I never had to feel guilty asking about money as part of my creative process and growth as an artist. That's pretty rare coming from an Asian household and a first generation immigrant household. I saw many of my friends feel so much pressure to go into careers that they were not compatible with because of the perceived stability and the obligation to honor your elders. I never felt that pressure, and how blessed is that? I always knew that I am supposed to create new things that people can engage with, and everyday I know I am doing the right thing. I never have any doubts, which feels so good and I don't think a lot of people have that feeling. However, I did have a moment after my incredible experience in high school that shattered my ambitions as an artist. I attended art school at the San Francisco Art Institute, and I found it unappealing to see the commercial side of art, hobnobbing with elites and selling fine art. This art was for a rarefied class of people, and that wasn’t who I was. I got really depressed, and I dropped out of art school because of that. However, the silver lining is when I dropped out of school, I started a music project called Ming & Ping. I just wanted to make some electronic synth-pop inspired by the Vietnamese obsession with a genre known as Italo Disco. The Viet diaspora calls this music “New Wave” for some reason. Our elders were exposed to this genre of music, and that kitschiness was endearing to me. I wanted to make a modern version of that. Ming & Ping was a viral artist for Asian representation at the time. Can you share more about that project? One day these electricians came into the cafe where I was working, and their van was parked outside with “Ming and King Electricians” written on it. My coworker joked that that should be my band name. That weekend my imagination went wild thinking, “What if my musical artist persona were twins? What if their Asian identical twins?” That’s when Ming & Ping were born. I took some photos of myself and photoshopped together these new wave twins holding hands. I knew this image would be catchy because in American culture during this time, you didn’t see two men holding hands. However, here are these two hot little new wave identical twins holding hands and looking “cool.” I put that on the Internet and gave my friends some of my music to put in their homemade skate videos, and it actually started catching on. That was the beginning of my music career. During my year off of art school, I was also concurrently applying to design school because I wanted my work to impact everyday people, not just elite collectors or museums. I ended up at the ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, CA while working on the Ming & Ping project. I used every class project to create something for Ming & Ping, which generated a lot of content to share, and we began to have a national and global presence. Even though we didn't tour globally, I fully embraced the Internet as a venue and I immediately went into digital design as a career. Ming & Ping were one of the first music acts to use a mobile app to promote our music. We designed a game called Ming & Ping Pong, which is an app where you use the accelerometer to play Pong and the soundtrack was the Ming & Ping music. The fictional personas of identical twins shielded my work from my own personal identity and allowed me to express myself in a way that was magical and not based in reality. It also gave me an opportunity to create costumes and fantastic sets so our stage show was extremely elaborate visually. For over a decade, I created music while also expressing myself as a visual artist by creating visual art experiences for the twins. What does community and giving back mean to you? The Ming & Ping project coming to its evolutionary end and having a design career as a Creative Director in digital marketing brought me to a point where I was not very satisfied with what I was doing. I was using all of my creative capital to further somebody else’s career at a big corporate office. This depleted my creative energies, so I quit everything and reevaluated my values. I realized I do want to be an artist and create music, but I want to share that with the community and work with younger Asian American artists so that they have the resources, knowledge, and support system that I didn't have when I started my music career. I tried to start a nonprofit and wrote a mission statement about supporting specifically Asian American artists. A few weeks later, Simon Tam from a band called the Slants whom we used to perform with called me up and said their band is retiring but they will replace it with the Slants Foundation. Their mission statement was almost exactly the mission I wrote for my nonprofit, so I decided to abandon my idea and join his. Simon had already gone to the United States Supreme Court in a multi-year civil rights battle, made a lot of connections from that, and worked in the nonprofit space. And so The Slants Foundation was the perfect venue for me to live out those intentions of supporting younger artists from the Asian American community and hopefully inspiring them to incorporate activism into their life and work too. We've organized events with thousands of people, where we’ve registered hundreds of people to vote. We've given tens of thousands of dollars to creatives, musicians, and writers to produce their work, start their podcast, etc. The Slants Foundation also introduced me to a community of collaborators and friends, and I think that's where I am now. That's the culmination of my journey, and has allowed me to explore who I really am and what my values are in network with other creatives. Do you have any final words or advice? I actually never set goals, but I uncover intentions that I’m passionate about. I realized the universe delivers your wins in forms that you never could imagine they would come in. The wonderful place I am in now is a reflection of how my intentions came together in such unexpected forms. I set these intentions years ago then forgot about them. I didn’t write them down, but I fully believed in them every day. If I were to give any advice to people, it'd be to find the most true intentions deep inside you and not worry about how they manifest. Don't set such hard goals as they are actually limiting to how beautiful things eventually take form. Just put a pin on the map and keep moving in that general direction, and embrace the detours and all.

Tonight is the last chance to catch English actress Jessica Henwick in “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery” (2022) in select theaters! Known for her roles as Nymeria Sand in “Game of Thrones,” Jessika Pava in “Star Wars: Episode VII – The Force Awakens” (2015), and Colleen Wing in the MCU, Jessica Henwick was the first East Asian actress to lead a British television series—“Spirit Warriors,” with Benedict Wong. She can also be seen as Bugs in “The Matrix Resurrections” (2021) alongside Keanu Reeves and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II. Henwick is a budding filmmaker, having produced her first short “Bus Girl” (2022) this June. A follow-up short, “Sandwich Man,” is currently in post-production. About “Glass Onion”: Jessica Henwick plays a pleasantly understated Peg in Rian Johnson’s latest whodunit. Peg is Birdie’s (Kate Hudson) harried assistant/publicist/do-er of all things that need to be done. “Peg is at the end of her tether,” says Henwick. “She has been working for Birdie for quite some time. In my head, it’s been like 10 years. Every year she says, ‘This is the last year,’ but she just can’t seem to get herself out of that. They have this almost familial relationship at this stage. They love each other and hate each other. And poor Peg, I think she understands Birdie better than everyone and Birdie really drops her guard around her. And so Peg sees that Birdie does have a good heart and does try to help her to the best of her ability. But it’s just so tough because Birdie does not make it easy to help her.” Set on a private Greek island, “Glass Onion” is a sunny departure from the indulgent coziness of gothic New England mansions and cream-colored knit sweaters. Detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) returns with another cast of colorful characters, each with a motive for murder. Bringing his signature wit, Southern drawl, and penchant for theatrics, he must find the culprit before the death toll outdoes him, all the while looking fabulous in tailored leisure wear. “I think [Peg’s] also probably the most ‘normal,’” Henwick adds. “This is a group of people who can say ridiculous things like, ‘Well, I was on my yacht last week,’ and Peg is the only one who knows well enough to roll her eyes at the casualness of that statement.” Without spoiling anything, I can say that “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery” is just as entertaining as its predecessor. This massively talented cast features Daniel Craig, Edward Norton, Janelle Monáe, Kathryn Hahn, Leslie Odom Jr., Jessica Henwick, Madelyn Cline, with Kate Hudson, and Dave Bautista. See “Glass Onion” in select theaters November 23–29, and globally on Netflix on December 23. All quotes and images courtesy of Netflix

There’s a sea of different people in this world. While everyone is unique and different, there are enough commonalities between us all to lump us into various groups based on personality, interests, and experiences. I don’t view the Zodiac signs as the ultimate source of truth. But every time I see a Capricorn description, I inch closer to acceptance that groups of like-minded people exist and we can be somewhat predictable. We seem to form tribes whether we want to or not. But for some of us, the journey to find our tribe can take forever. When we are young, our tribe is our family. They are the first group we spend hours with by choice and by force. Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of cousins my age. Most of them were older, between six to 15 years ahead. I can count more times I felt awkward in family gatherings than I felt comfortable. They were always playing kickball or monkey in the middle, things I failed at on a daily basis. To this day, if a ball is headed my way, my first instinct is to duck and run. Right from the beginning, I felt like a square peg and my family was the round hole. They were my family, but I can’t say they were my tribe. To their credit, they have always loved me as Heather, their little cousin. For this, I am forever grateful. But love without belonging is hollow. The next forced community is school. For kids who go to a large school, the odds increase for finding a group you can call your own. But for kids in small schools, like mine with a graduating class of 120 students, it’s a lot harder to find your tribe. You search for a group of people who have baggage that matches yours, but when the odds are against you, you could be the only one. Feeling alone in school can create alienation and depression, devastating feelings when you are young. From this alienation emerges stereotypes that damage young kids before they have a chance. You become the gay kid. The nerd. The weirdo. The stoner. School becomes a horrible sorting system that pigeonholes kids into social and intellectual categories and stunts any possible growth as a human being. So for some, finding one’s tribe in school is impossible. For others, they aren’t allowed to explore and really discover who they are. For me, I made friends well enough, and have lifetime friends who are genuinely good people. I explored various identities throughout high school. But did I really find my tribe? No. So then comes college. This is where some young people really flourish. They can reinvent who they want to be. They can join the theater group, play intramural sports, and find friends interested in the same career path. College can be a place where people find their tribe. For me, it was in theater class. We didn’t have a theater program in my high school so I never really experienced “theater kids.” In college, I found my people…dramatic, ridiculous people. For the first time in my life, I was with a group of people where I excelled; and I felt like I belonged. I threw out references that people actually caught. I never sang a show tune alone. I made dramatic exits that were appreciated. They got it. All of it. And it was glorious. As I moved into full-blown adulthood, my tribe changed. I got married, had a child, and moved to the profession of teaching. My tribe changed to those who understood marriage and all its nuances, to other mothers who agreed that motherhood was not the end-all-be-all identity, and other teachers who struggled every day to help students in an unforgiving world. Each time the tribe changed, it became more difficult to find that square hole I fit in. The sea of people became smaller. Interests became more narrow until you got to a point where you didn’t have a tribe but rather a mini gathering. The struggle was real. As an adoptee, I never truly found my tribe until I joined some Korean Adoptee (KAD) Facebook groups and attended a KAD conference. In every previous example, even when I fit in there was always an underlying imposter syndrome that made me feel like I wasn’t fully a part of the group. My identity held me back from giving myself permission to feel at ease. But in this group, this group of Korean Adoptees, I finally felt like I found my tribe. Their family pictures on Facebook looked like mine, a gaggle of white people with a solitary Korean face in the middle. I met people with whom I had an unspoken understanding. I didn’t have to fully explain myself because they already knew the situation I was talking about. When I said I felt like an outsider growing up, this group didn’t need me to explain at length. You could see in their faces they’d already felt that isolation, the idea that we are “…one of those things that’s not like the other.” We are a tribe built on Han, abandonment, and loss. We’ve all been asked, “No, where are you really from?” and rolled our eyes in annoyance. We’ve all felt completely alone in a crowded gymnasium. We all were in awe that first time we were in a room where everyone was of our ethnicity—every single face looked like ours. It’s an amazing, surreal moment to finally just blend in. Finding this tribe is a gift. It completes a part of me unlike any other experience. While it may take some time, it is worth finding your tribe.

This spring, I had the great privilege to spend some time chatting with Justin Cardona from Asian All American, a media company based in Oakland, CA. “Through filmmaking, photography, I highlight, I try to tell the stories of my community through basketball,” Cardona, a Filipino American, noted. “It’s quite interesting how people react when looking at themselves…it kind of helped them redefine a little bit about…how they see themselves.” Asian All American features profiles and interviews with students and athletes as a way to lift up voices of the next generation, to educate on the importance of the history of Asian Americans in the U.S., and to promote and build up solidarity between communities in the Bay Area. “We need to see every day Asian Americans, of different shades, of different social and economic backgrounds, make different choices; we need to know there are other ways to navigate through this thing called life.” Justin Cardona began Asian All American as an all-star basketball league. This in turn led to the creation of the media company to feature participants. The focus on rising, Asian American athletes in the Bay Area, allows Asian All American to offer opportunities for young people to share their stories of successes and failures. “My responsibility is to be able to share these stories, but more importantly be honest about where we are now, also doing a better a job of knowing history and connecting the two.” Cardona further noted the goal of the organization is to “uplift, educate ourselves and other Asian Americans, make them feel prideful, and build confidence.” Cardona’s beginnings really speak to the importance of showing up and being present. “You know what, it came through basketball. I started filming just the games, I had a simple camcorder and then it just grew, and I became this maniac with the equipment and then I learned how to use the equipment properly, and became more professional. I started to do simple interviews and it just grew from there.” This led to the creation of Asian All American. “As soon as the pandemic ended, I had the opportunity to work in the schools covering sports. I’m just trying to use my connections in a way so I can create opportunities and these bridges to communicate and tell the stories of, not just only of Asian Americans now, it’s an opportunity to talk in real time—everyone’s stories.” Cardona’s choice to focus Asian All American on local, underrepresented stories in the world of sports has had big impacts on young athletes in the Oakland community. When discussing the importance of seeing themselves in media, Cardona opined, “When I saw these young ladies win the state championship, I flashed back on my own life, and how many times I’ve reached a certain pinnacle in my life, we need to talk about those things, those successes. It’s important. And on different levels, you don’t need the star athlete or CEO. I also need to relate to an everyday person.” Cardona emphasized the importance of the organization’s mentorship. This tenet is rooted in Cardona’s upbringing. “[My father] started using basketball as a way to talk to kids who just needed some mentorship; he used basketball as a way to do that, communicate the importance of education. So that was his start in community development, community service.” That ethos has carried through in Cardona’s work in creating programs for Asian All American. “Big ups to all the coaches. Because the coaches have a tough job of balancing out being Xs and Os and also being that mentor they [the young athletes] need to navigate through regular life.” Cardona believes young athletes translate their experiences in sports into other areas of their lives. “Promoting youth athletes to be able to take the life building skills deeper into their lives. Life takes on many forms, and opportunities come in different forms.” Asian All American is a forum for a community. “I think, although there are dark stories, and we have to talk about those things, right? I think right now, our community needs to see Asian Americans in a way where people can get a source of inspiration.” Ultimately, Cardona hopes to “build a movement amongst the youth. The youth is going to bring us along. I do feel a responsibility to show them in the best light.”

That night, as she stood alone on the water’s edge, the expanse of the ocean before her felt as dark and infinite as the universe. A soft crush of waves melted into the earth and rose back up, frothy, pulsing, pulling, and dissolving the sand beneath her feet. Glistening, fingerlike threads caressed and grabbed at her toes. She imagined being dragged out and swallowed up by the vast unknown. Gia was terrified and yet, she dug her heels in and stayed her ground. In the distance, on that stretch of beach, college kids drank beers, ate sushi, and played beach volleyball near a raging bonfire. This was a world unfamiliar to Gia—coeds, fraternity sweethearts, Asian sorority sisters from Sigma Phi Omega, and frat boys from Gamma Epsilon Omega, the Asian fraternity. She was out of her element. “Has anyone seen Gia?” asked Josh making his way through the group. “No,” is what they each said before returning to their partying. Except for Josh, himself, and his frat bro, Luke, who drove them there, no one knew who Gia was anyway. Josh had only recently met Gia a few days ago while standing in line at the university bookstore. Josh had been struck by Gia’s beauty. She was tall, slim, and had the most perfect oval face and pretty, sunny eyes. Her long black hair was radiant—sleek and glossy. Josh was taken aback at first, but it only took him a couple of seconds to get over any hesitation to talk to her. Josh was a tall attractive young Asian man himself—and he knew it. All the guys from the Gamma house were known for their handsome, good looks. All the girls from Sigma Phi Omega were also reputedly gorgeous. This was Southern California after all. Josh and Gia had made small talk in the bookstore, and Josh learned that Gia was a transfer student from Virginia. Josh was a California valley boy, born and raised. When Josh asked Gia if she wanted to go to this beach party, he was pleased when she agreed. “Gia!” called Josh above the rushing, rhythmic ocean sounds. He thought that was her standing alone by the waterfront. Josh noticed how the moonlight cast a glow on her enchanting face. Her silhouette against the dark blue shoreline was almost picturesque. She looked peaceful—or maybe troubled. He called out again, “Gia!” as he ran up next to her. “You okay?” “Oh, hey,” responded Gia glancing over at Josh. “You’re out here by yourself. You wanna join the party? I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Gia looked at the ground. “Uh, Josh. I’ve actually got a lot on my mind.” She looked back up. “I shouldn’t have agreed to come tonight. I’m sorry.” “Oh…okay. No worries.” “I mean…I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. It was great of you to invite me. You and Luke even came and picked me up. It’s just…I’m just not up to it all, ya know?” explained Gia. “Don’t worry about it,” said Josh. “If you need to go, I can get Luke’s car and take you back to the dorms…if you need to get outta here.” “Yeah, cause I’m just…stressing.” “What’s wrong?” asked Josh. “It’s…well, family stuff,” said Gia. “They’re all coming into town tomorrow to support my sister. She plays soccer.” “Soccer? Cool—I mean, not cool if you’re not happy with them.” “I hate 'em.” “Hate? That’s a strong word.” “I hate them all.” “Wow, okay. Well, I’m sure you have good reason…to be unhappy with them,” said Josh. “How anyone could do something to cause you hardship is beyond me. You seem like a nice person.” “You don’t know anything about me. You just met me.” “That is true. I don’t know you.” Josh pushed the front of his hair back with his hand and paused. “Can I take you back home?” Gia looked out at the ocean water pensively, and then looked into Josh’s eyes. “Josh,” she said. “Could you come with me tomorrow for brunch?" “And meet your family?” “Sure.” “I think we’re moving a little fast here,” laughed Josh. “As a friend. Just come as my friend.” “Friend? So now we’re friends? I don’t know anything about you. I just met you, remember?” teased Josh. “Please, Josh.” Gia stared at Josh and searched his eyes until she knew she had him. She knew her eyes were one of her best features; she had already figured out the power she had because of them. “For moral support,” she added. Josh was intrigued by this attractive, strange, and complex woman. “Well…. Okay. Just for brunch.” The next day Josh picked up Gia and drove to The Huntington in San Marino. Brunch was being served in the Rose Hills Garden Court that day. As Gia and Josh walked through and approached the area, Gia noticed her brother and sister standing around, waiting to be seated for their reservation. “Jackie! Mike!” Gia called out to them. But, there was no response. When they got closer, things got awkward. Josh tried to lighten the mood by making a comment about how nice they redid certain sections of the botanic gardens and art museum. Gia engaged back with a light conversation with Josh. Although they stood near her brother and sister, neither of Gia’s siblings acknowledged her. Josh thought it was odd. “It’s like I’m invisible,” said Gia sullenly to Josh. Josh shook his head. He stared at Jackie and Mike who were oblivious. Gia’s siblings appeared to be intentionally ignoring her, and it began to anger him. “Hey! Your sister’s here!” he shouted. “Josh—” pleaded Gia. But, her parents had just arrived and her siblings had turned their attention to them. “Mom, Dad,” said Gia as she approached her parents. Gia’s mother had a puzzled look on her face and walked away. The host had waved to the group and Gia’s parents and siblings began following the young hostess who was taking them all to their seats. Josh and Gia joined the line, trailing behind. When Gia and Josh sat down at the table, Gia’s mother’s brow furrowed and she let out an incredulous gasp. “Uh, excuse me!” “Mom, it’s me,” said Gia. “Mom, Dad, this is Josh.” Gia’s parents looked stunned. Gia’s siblings, Mike and Jackie, were speechless. They didn’t even notice Josh. Jackie stared at her sister. “Is that really you, Gia?” she asked. “What did you do to your face!!” sneered her brother, Mike. Gia’s mother put her hand over her mouth. Josh looked around at the family and didn’t know what to think. “Gia, I didn’t even recognize you,” said her father. “What did you do to yourself?!” demanded Gia’s mother. “You’re not impressed that I lost all the weight?” asked Gia. Josh’s brow wrinkled. He was as confused as the others. “You know how big she was before?” shouted Mike obnoxiously to Josh. “She was humungo!” Mike’s laughter was full of snorts and whistles. Congestion went down the wrong windpipe and he began hacking on his own phlegm. Jackie was laughing and chortling along with her brother. “We called her Giant Gia!” mocked Jackie. Josh stared at Gia in disbelief. “Gia, you gonna load up at the omelet station? Gonna grab yourself ten stacks of stuffed French toast? It’s all you can eat!” taunted Mike. “Stop it, Michael!” chided their mother. “I prefer the salmon and berries, thank you,” retorted Gia with an air of indignance. Josh nodded towards her in support. Gia’s mother slid her glasses onto her face and looked Gia over more carefully. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m glad you lost the weight, but your face. You don’t look like you,” said her mother. “You had work done,” said Jackie. “A lot of work done…all over,” interjected Michael who made a sweeping motion with his arm towards Gia. “The whooole thing.” Gia turned to Josh. “See what I’ve had to endure my entire life? Non-stop bullying.” “That’s why you were in such a hurry to leave for LA,” said Jackie snarkily. “I had it all done in the early part of summer—yes, that’s why I flew to LA so early.” “What. What did you have done?” asked Gia’s mom stoically with only a hint of a twitch in her upper lip. “Everything—eyes, cheeks. Jawline shaved. Rhinoplasty, blepharoplasty, liposuction. I even had a vampire facial.” “Vampire facial?” asked Josh. “It’s when blood is drawn from your arm, processed, and then injected back into your face. The result after scabbing is regeneration. My skin glows!” “You learn something every day. Even for an LA guy like me, that’s the first time I’ve heard of that. You do have beautiful, glossy skin,” commented Josh. “So, what do you all think?” asked Gia looking expectantly at her family. Her parents, sister, and brother had no response. “You have nothing to say?” Her family members either looked at the ground or averted their eyes. Gia raised her voice. “Not even a ‘you look great, Gia’?” Finally, Michael sat up in his seat and jeered, “Well, you’ll always be Giant Gia to me!” He began laughing again, uncontrollably. Jackie tried to conceal her chuckles, but finally, let out a muffled howl. Gia fell silent. She looked around the table as tears welled up in her eyes. She pushed her chair away from the table, stood up, and shouted, “I can never win with you all! No matter what I do! And, you know what? I don’t give a flying F about anything you all say. Say whatever. I just don’t give a crap. It does not affect me, whatsoever!” As Gia walked out, her family had fallen silent. They were in shock. They had never heard Gia speak this way to them before. Josh got up and went after Gia. “You okay?” Josh asked after catching up with Gia. “Yeah, thanks for checking up on me,” responded Gia. “Can we just go?” “Where do you want to go?” “Anywhere but here.” Josh and Gia pulled up at the beach. They walked until they found a spot and settled in with a beach towel and boba they had picked up along the way. “I know they’re family. But, I’m sorry that you have to deal with all of that,” said Josh. “I’m used to it. Been dealing with the harassment and abuse my whole life.” “Well, you know what I think?” asked Josh. “What?” “I think you’ve got incredible, inner strength—and you look beautiful!” “Even if it’s all not real? Even if it’s all fake?” “It’s okay. You made your decisions. Embrace them. It’s who you are now. Accept the fact that you’re absolutely gorgeous now,” said Josh encouragingly. “I’m just not sure how to handle it all, though.” “Sure, you do. Just forget about your family for now. You’re not going to change them. Focus on yourself. Get to know the new you and enjoy it.” “It’s like I have a costume on. I don’t know who I am anymore,” admitted Gia who looked lost. “I saw what you did yesterday. You had me. You’re learning. You got me here, didn’t you?” “I don’t know what to say.” “Welcome to the pretty club, baby!” “You’re freaking me out, Josh.” “Doesn’t sound like your plastics doc gave you a manual on how to use your newfound beauty powers. Well, I’m here to tell you that now that you’re all healed up, you’re gonna find that being young and attractive’s gonna give you all kinds of advantages. Stop hanging by the edge and just jump in the water, Gia!” “But Josh, I don’t think I’m ready. You saw what I’ve been subjected to my whole life. That’s what I’m used to. Being the outcast. I’m not prepared to manage these so-called powers that you talk about. I’m…I’m scared.” “I got you, Gia. I got you. Hey, listen. I understand you,” said Josh looking directly into Gia’s eyes. “No,” said Gia searching Josh’s eyes and face. “You too?” “Yup, double eyelid, rhinoplasty, chemical peel. Even butt implants.” “Really?” “Nah, not the implants,” laughed Josh. “Oh.” “It’s really not a big deal. Everyone gets something done eventually. That’s life. This is LA.” Gia looked away. “So…are friendships fake out here too?” “Some. Not all.” “What about us?” “I just met you,” teased Josh. “But I think I know a little bit more about you now. You can count me as a friend…if you’re comfortable with that.” He smiled. “Sure. I’d like that, Josh. Beauty is only skin-deep. You being there for me…it’s everything.” “You know, you’re pretty grounded for a gorgeous girl.” Gia smiled, and for the first time, accepted a compliment. The two sat quietly and looked out at the immense, moving body of water before them. Gia sat perched like a delicate bird with her thin, sculpted legs beneath her. The afternoon sun seemed to shine through her translucent skin. Her careful face, gleaming hair, and perfect features made her look ethereal, almost otherworldly. For a moment, Josh thought he saw himself reflected back from the glossy depths of her eyes. He searched again and found the earth’s powerful ocean waters within her orbs that sparkled like stars in a dark universe. Josh smiled back at Gia. He thought to himself, “she’s dazzling.” Cover photo: Pixabay