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An Open Letter Series to Far, Far Away Friends | Ashley
To Ashley:
You’re in South Korea, and I miss the convenience of walking across the hall to talk. I miss making tea together when the snow was stacked taller than our boots. I miss worrying about you when you were at the library until 3am because you weren’t home yet. I miss you, Sis.
So, last year, I flew to South Korea to see you.
I packed some of your favorite snacks and essentials. Some American cornflakes, Bigfoot cheese chips, and Caribbean seasonings to name a few, and when we went out for drinks in Hongdae that Saturday night, it felt like nothing had changed.
I thought about how we met as random roommates freshman year. And as time went by, how we became best friends--how we were around for each other’s most silly, serious, and downright stupid moments. From major life events to late night laundry runs, we were around for all the three-hour long weekly updates, all of the Saturday night cramming sessions, Sunday morning grocery runs, and even the shoveling of four day snowfalls.
But now, you are kicking ass far, far away, and I couldn't be more happy for you. So I'll hold onto these memories, and hope to be around for more silly, serious, and downright stupid moments with you every time I’m on the other side of the world.
With Love,
Shaoli
Shaoli
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tITLED: oTHER
cOMPLETED IN 2017
*An art piece accompanied by a written piece about
my relationship with race
Other, by choice.
I am other. Who I am has already been boxed in by four lines and ticked off with two. Every form that I fill out reminds me that I am not easy to understand; that I am not simple. Ever since I was old enough to fill out forms for my mom and myself, I struggled with what to check for “race.” My mom was easy– Asian American. I, on the other hand, fought with race and ethnicity. Was I Asian? And what do I do when Guyanese isn't a race? When I was younger, I just arbitrarily picked one. I used to always identify as Asian, but as I got older I started to realize I was neglecting a large part of my identity.
In December of 2015, I attended the Student Diversity Leadership Conference (SDLC) with five other people from my school. I was hoping to find an affinity space where I would feel a sense of belonging, and in a conference with sixteen-thousand students from all over the country, I was desperately to find a group that could understand me through empathy--not sympathy. On the first night of the conference I joined the ‘multi-culti’ affinity group despite my concern about feeling less affirmed since the majority of students in the group identified as either White or Black or both. My first session with the group was an intense reality check. I found myself questioning my place in the world and in the room, once again feeling insecure, rather than secure, because the students were so different from me. This space, where I was supposed to feel a spontaneous and natural connection, was othering me before my very own eyes. How was I supposed to feel affirmed when I felt so lost and small, at a conference where the expressed purpose was for people like me to feel empowered?
Growing up, I found that many of the cliques that formed in the schools I attended were usually based around race and ethnicity. At first I felt quite alone... like I would never fit in and belong. What I later realized, was that because I wasn’t confined to one race or ethnicity, I was free to bounce around and meet new people outside of my friend groups. In a sense I was racially liberated. I learned that the friendships can transcend race.
The confinement of race and identity taught me about race and who I was, and who I could be. Biracial people are everywhere nowadays. The box “other,” represents every person that does not fit neatly into society's constructs. Race is no longer something that confuses me. It empowers me. I know that every time I choose “other” on a form I am denying race the power to define me. I have chosen to define who I am, on my own terms. These four lines have become strong walls that I define. Walls that remind me that the system was not built for me, but against me. Put me in a box and I will decorate the walls.
I am other. Who I am has already been boxed in by four lines and ticked off with two. Every form that I fill out reminds me that I am not easy to understand; that I am not simple. Ever since I was old enough to fill out forms for my mom and myself, I struggled with what to check for “race.” My mom was easy– Asian American. I, on the other hand, fought with race and ethnicity. Was I Asian? And what do I do when Guyanese isn't a race? When I was younger, I just arbitrarily picked one. I used to always identify as Asian, but as I got older I started to realize I was neglecting a large part of my identity.
In December of 2015, I attended the Student Diversity Leadership Conference (SDLC) with five other people from my school. I was hoping to find an affinity space where I would feel a sense of belonging, and in a conference with sixteen-thousand students from all over the country, I was desperately to find a group that could understand me through empathy--not sympathy. On the first night of the conference I joined the ‘multi-culti’ affinity group despite my concern about feeling less affirmed since the majority of students in the group identified as either White or Black or both. My first session with the group was an intense reality check. I found myself questioning my place in the world and in the room, once again feeling insecure, rather than secure, because the students were so different from me. This space, where I was supposed to feel a spontaneous and natural connection, was othering me before my very own eyes. How was I supposed to feel affirmed when I felt so lost and small, at a conference where the expressed purpose was for people like me to feel empowered?
Growing up, I found that many of the cliques that formed in the schools I attended were usually based around race and ethnicity. At first I felt quite alone... like I would never fit in and belong. What I later realized, was that because I wasn’t confined to one race or ethnicity, I was free to bounce around and meet new people outside of my friend groups. In a sense I was racially liberated. I learned that the friendships can transcend race.
The confinement of race and identity taught me about race and who I was, and who I could be. Biracial people are everywhere nowadays. The box “other,” represents every person that does not fit neatly into society's constructs. Race is no longer something that confuses me. It empowers me. I know that every time I choose “other” on a form I am denying race the power to define me. I have chosen to define who I am, on my own terms. These four lines have become strong walls that I define. Walls that remind me that the system was not built for me, but against me. Put me in a box and I will decorate the walls.
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This is a collection of some of my artwork over the years.
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These are some of my latest Minecraft builds.
