Taiwanese American.org / Spotlight

Literary author Francie Lin talks about a different kind of Foreigner

noreply@blogger.com (Dot Lin) — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 19:36:00 +0000

Francie Lin may have never visited the Taiwanese criminal underworld or sang in a seedy karaoke bar, but she has written an acclaimed debut novel, The Foreigner, set in the hidden alleys of Taipei.

Emerson Chang is a 40-year-old Taiwanese American virgin who has met his mother for dinner every Friday night for fifteen years. But after her unexpected death, long-buried secrets and family loyalty will take him on an unpredictable journey back to Taiwan—and to the rebellious younger brother lost to him for almost a decade.

A June 2008 Book Sense pick, The Foreigner received praise from notable booksellers and publications ranging from the Los Angeles Times to the Boston Globe, all highlighting her strong writing and vivid portrayal of a dark and complicated world.

A former editor at The Threepenny Review in Berkeley, Lin graduated from Harvard and received a Fulbright Fellowship to Taiwan in 2001. She currently lives with her family in Greenfield, Massachusetts. The Foreigner is her first novel.

Francie Lin will appear at the Asian American Writers’ Workshop in NYC, along with author Don Lee, on Thursday, July 24, 2008, at 7:00 pm.

You can also hear Francie talk about The Foreigner on "The Leonard Lopate Show" on Wednesday, July 30th, at 1:00 pm.

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“[A] stunning debut…. Taut, smart and often funny.”
—Publishers Weekly *starred review*

“Emerson is a fascinating character …[Lin] is capable of writing both marvelous humor and scenes of utter darkness in her tale of a naive man at a complete loss for dealing with the world.”
—San Francisco Chronicle

"You won't find any of the cardboard characters, clunky writing or clichéd conventions that too often mar suspense fiction. Lin is equally attentive to description and plot.”
—Los Angeles Times

“The Foreigner announces the arrival of the very talented Francie Lin. Brilliantly observed and written with a scalpel, this violent plunge into the abyss of identity runs on the hot rails of the ambitious thriller. A flat-out page-turner.”
—Colin Harrison, author of The Havana Room and The Finder

“This is a daring original novel, permeated with cynical characters and skillfully mixing genres and subjects into a fast-paced journey of self-discovery. How a Taiwanese-American can uphold tradition and ancestral respect against his own cultural and personal dualities, and especially against his own criminal brother, this is what Francie Lin proceeds to keenly accomplish in this sinister yet uplifting story."
—Marie du Vaure, Vroman’s Bookstore
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A Conversation with Francie Lin:

Q: Congratulations on your debut novel and the great reviews! What was the inspiration behind The Foreigner?

It was kind of a combination of things. I had Emerson's voice in my head for quite a while, this very timid yet determined male voice, and I wanted to give him a whole book. His dilemma—being somewhat squashed under the thumb of his mother, and feeling frustrated by this—is unfortunately one that I saw a lot of among my Asian guy friends, so I suppose that was something of an inspiration as well.

Probably the other major inspiration was Taipei itself. I had such an emotional time of it during the year I spent living there that I wanted to capture some of my initial impressions of the city before they faded away. But at the same time, I didn't want to write the stock memoir piece about going back and finding your roots. A novel seemed like a good way to cram in lots of details about the streets and shops, etc. without having to say anything too personal about them.

Q: It’s interesting that you found fiction the best form to communicate your experiences. I think The Foreigner might be one of the first American novels set in Taiwan. One sees a lot of non-fiction about Taiwan, but not so much fiction.

How long did it take you to write The Foreigner? And what were your writing experiences before it?

Hmm, that depends on when you start counting. I started trying to write a novel when I was in Taiwan (2001), but nothing much came of that. A couple of years later when I was back living in Berkeley, things finally clicked, and I spent a couple of years writing a first draft, and then there were about 2 years of revisions after I'd sold the book. So I'd say 4 years altogether.

Before writing The Foreigner, I worked for a literary magazine in Berkeley called The Threepenny Review and wrote short pieces and sometimes longer essays and reviews for it. I also reviewed books for the SF Chronicle and the LA Times. So I was more of a nonfiction writer. Actually, with the exception of a couple of short stories, I hadn't written any fiction since college until I attempted The Foreigner.

Q: How was your time as a Fulbright Fellow in Taiwan in 2001-2002? Was it your first time in Taiwan (at least, in awhile), and was it what you expected? And I hope you did not have to explore too much the alleyways of the Taipei underworld to research the novel ...

Oh, I had a great time that year! It was indeed my first time in Taipei/Taiwan except for a week or so in 2000 to visit a friend, and it was absolutely not what I was expecting. My parents didn't really go back to Taiwan much when we were growing up, so their memories of Taipei are a little outdated, and I was struck by how futuristic the Taipei I lived in seemed. Something about the crowdedness and the heat and the architecture and department stores mixed with the little alleys and nightmarkets made it seem very exciting. And then my first month there we were hit with a major typhoon. After that I was robbed, and then, back in the States, 9/11 happened. So all that might have contributed to my impression of Taipei as being a rather dark place. (And no, I didn't have to go to a lot of seedy karaoke bars for research, though I would have liked to!) It wasn't an impression that lasted all year, though; once I'd made some friends and become more familiar with the city, it became just a nice, convenient place to live.

Q: You were robbed!! What happened?

I was living temporarily with a friend of my aunt's, an older retired teacher, near Da An Senlin Park. One night I came back from dinner and then went out again to get a cup of coffee, and when I came back the front door was open. I went inside, and the whole apartment had just been ransacked: all the drawers were torn out of the dresser, and everyone's clothes were all over the floor. You know how everyone keeps cash rather than putting the money in the bank? My poor landlady lost an astronomical amount of money; I lost some cash, but not too much. I freaked out anyway, though, because I thought I remembered locking the door when I left. In the end, it turned out that I HAD locked the door; whoever it was had gotten in by climbing up the balcony and cutting through the iron bars. Thank god. I think my aunt would have disowned me if I'd been responsible. Of course I'm still very sorry for my landlady.

Q: OK—favorite nightmarket food?

Do I have to pick just one? I guess I'd have to say naiyou bing--I used to eat those constantly, but only the ones that look like hockey pucks, not the other kind. I was also a big fan of guabao, though those were kind of hard to get--had to go all the way to the Tonghua nightmarket, which wasn't too near where I was living.

Q: Poor Emerson, the main character in "The Foreigner," doesn't do so well with his Mandarin. How is yours? ;)

Ugh, that's a sore point! My Mandarin was decent by the time I left Taiwan, but now, of course, it's awful again. My husband teaches Chinese history, and spent several years in China and a year at ICLP during grad school, but his Chinese is now fading too, and we keep trying to figure out how to get a language partner! Anyone out there in the Boston area willing to do a language exchange?

Q: The Foreigner has a refreshingly diverse cast of Asian or Asian-related characters with strong needs: Angel Guo with her army fatigues and distaste of men seeking meek Oriental women; A, the troubled white American, and Grace, his sweet Taiwanese girlfriend who may or may not love him; and Atticus, the well-educated and complex former engineer involved in the politics of Taiwan. Are some of these perspectives ones that interest you as an Asian or Taiwanese American? Or are these characters representative of some of the people you have encountered in the Asian or Taiwanese American communities?

Well, Atticus's politics are pretty much my father's views, though I don't think he'd go so far as to attempt assassination. I'm on and off interested in the issue of Taiwan independence. Before I went to Taiwan I was pretty pro-independence; now I think that, ideologically, independence would be noble, but practically speaking unfeasible, and probably unlikely. But who knows?

A interests me as a character that probably every expat in Asia has encountered: the aging Caucasian guy who doesn't speak any of the language but continues to live in Asia because it's convenient for escaping personal problems at home, and because he commands more attention there than in the States or in England or wherever. Grace, too, is modeled on a few Taiwanese women I met, who were going out with these really terrible foreigner guys, out of boredom, maybe, or a sense of adventure. (I never asked.)

Angel is pure fiction, though her indignation about the power imbalance between Taiwanese women and men is something I share.

Q: Emerson Chang has a strong relationship with his mother—to say the least. Was there a reason you chose to portray this kind of parent-child relationship? I suppose family relationships play an important role for all 2nd generation Asian Americans ...

I guess some of the reason is autobiographical, though of course I'm not a 40-year-old man. I do think that a lot of 2nd generation Asian Americans have to struggle a lot if they want some independence from their parents—it's just not in the Asian family model to let your kids go off and "have a life of their own." Emerson is just my exploration of the consequences—for one particular personality—of being a good Chinese son in action but feeling emotionally torn between your own individuality and the demands of family loyalty.

Q: Again, congratulations on a finely written novel. How does it feel to finish your first book and finally see it in print? I hope you're enjoying the good feedback!

Thank you! It's wonderful to see the book finally out, and I hope people are enjoying it. The good reviews make me very happy, but then they also make me nervous, as I'm working on my second book right now, and some writing days are better than others. We'll see!

For more information on The Foreigner or to purchase a copy of the book, visit http://us.macmillan.com/theforeigner.

TaiwaneseAmerican.org would like to offer a copy of The Foreigner to readers of this website. To be entered in the raffle, send an email to admin@taiwaneseamerican.org with the subject line “The Foreigner" and on July 30th, the winner will be chosen at random.

*EDIT* Congratulations to Michael L. of Chicago, IL for winning the raffle!

D. Lin works in the publishing industry in NYC.

An Interview with Abe Young, Author of Humanity at Stake

noreply@blogger.com (Ho Chie) — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 18:41:00 +0000

A few months ago, I accidentally came across a brief work-in-progress by Abe Young, a 2nd generation Taiwanese American who was inspired to write about the generally touchy subject of Taiwan-China-US relations. What captured my attention most was his wonderful ability to explore the depth and breadth of the issues, yet frame it through a captivating conversation that he had one day with his two fellow volunteers at the Housing Works Used Books & Cafe. I was so impressed by his writing that I emailed him immediately to express my support.

Over the past few months, I have been able to watch his work evolve from simple manuscript to now fully published book entitled Humanity at Stake: On why the world should now end China's military & political aggression, understand Taiwan's democracy, and defend 23 million citizens' human right to self-determination. (Phew! That's a mouthful, isn't it?)

I feel privileged to have been an official advance reviewer of Abe's book and to also have my quote printed on the back cover, sandwiched between Dr. June Dreyer, a previous commissioner of the United States Economic and Security Review Commission, and Shawna Yang Ryan, an award-winning fiction author who was previously featured on TaiwaneseAmerican.org. Despite my lack of literary or political expertise, what I can assure you is that this book is an interesting and quick read, but more importantly, will bring you up to speed on some of the most current and pressing issues facing Taiwan in the world arena today. And, you won't feel like you're learning it from a textbook...

I recently caught up again with Abe to ask him a few questions.

H: Hi Abe! Thanks for sharing some of your time with me and the readers of TaiwaneseAmerican.org.

A: Hello Ho Chie. Thanks for inviting me to this interview. Hello, fellow readers of TaiwaneseAmerican.org!

H: Abe, you've written this wonderful book based on a conversation revolving around Taiwan-China-US politics that many of us have had, and yet others try to avoid. What do you personally hope will come of this "discussion?"

A: I'm glad you and others have taken so positively to Humanity at Stake's narrative. Even more, I'm glad you view the book as a tangible object in the real world that can really instigate and facilitate discussion on this difficult subject. As for what will come out of this discussion, or anyone's discussion really, is anyone's guess, but one simple hope is that readers who are new or familiar to the Taiwan-China-world issue will be that much more likely to engage with friends, family, acquaintances, colleagues, strangers, and their political representatives. In other words, I would not presume to guess the effects and outcomes of any group of people's discussion, but I do know that no positive change comes out of the absence of this type of engagement.

H: I'm quite fascinated by the fact that you've captured the essence of the political issues through the eyes of two other individuals: Chris, who was an American military pilot during the first Gulf war, and Wang, who is an ethnically Chinese immigrant college student. Have you had a chance to talk to them since the book was published, and what have they had to say?

A: In the week after I wrote down our conversation and finished the first draft of the entire document--I thought of it as a document, back then--I got in touch with Chris and Wang and told them about my writing. Chris is an American Airlines pilot and was out-of-state at the time, so we conversed over the phone and he immediately remembered that discussion the three of us had at Housing Works. He later emailed and told me that he had a "very enjoyable time in the basement that February morning. The conversation was so interesting and from points of view/experience so different to mine." Around the same time I got to meet up with Wang one day, since he's a student in Manhattan, at a coffee shop not far from Housing Works. Wang is a journalism student and at the time he was working on a student-run newspaper. So when I showed him the manuscript we enthusiastically chatted about our writings, and he was excited to see our dialogue written down in this unique format. And actually, just last week I spoke to Wang again when a reporter from Sing Tao Daily was asking me some details about the three of us for his newspaper article. Fortunately, Wang and Chris are very kind, thoughtful, and open-minded people--or else our initial conversation wouldn't have had the stamina or engagement that it did!

H: Yes, that's so true. Plus, the way in which you step into their shoes throughout the narrative and conversation really helps to bring the issues to life. There's a certain sense of vibrancy and youthful exploration in this approach of yours. Speaking of youthfulness, it might be said that you are a very young author and new on the scene. Did you face any challenges through this writing or publishing process?

A: Young? That's great to hear because I just turned 26 today and I've been feeling old--over a quarter-century old! As for whether I faced challenges through this writing or publishing process: yes and yes. Both, very much so. The bulk of my time, energy, and focus was spent after I had written down the conversation in its entirety. Finding the heart and character of the book, and adding the appropriate layers and improving and improving was difficult, and felt unending at some points. But it was always exciting because I felt this work was on to something. As for the publishing process, that has been an entirely new set of challenges, on a daily basis--but I wouldn't want to bore you or TaiwaneseAmerican.org readers with those mundane details. One interesting thing I've often thought of, though, is back when I worked in book publishing I always thought critically of the elaborate marketing and publicity operations that seemed to distract from the integrity of the writing itself--but now being on the writer's side trying constantly to get the word out on this book to as wide an audience as possible, often I've wished I had a marketing department, or experienced publicist to help expand these efforts, and to take the work of "selling" off of my hands. It has been tough to keep up with everything since the book's publication. To be honest, I wish I could go back to spending my time writing and reading instead of this--but I guess for now, it is hard to avoid the necessary time commitment to try to get this book to mainstream America.

H: It definitely sounds like a lot of hard work! But, I have no doubt that the book will make its way out there. Out of curiosity, where did you grow up? And what were your significant experiences that influenced you to discover your identity as a Taiwanese American?

A: Growing up I was in a few locations like kindergarten in Iowa and three years of grade school in Taiwan, but most of my formative years I grew up in Miami, where I was born. The so-called "discovery of my identity" as a Taiwanese American was not unlike many other Taiwanese Americans who attended college on the East Coast or California. Our campus TA organization at Brown my freshman year was a bunch of friendly, cool, quirky kids and I got conned into joining the fun at some free food events--then my sophomore year I attended BITSA and ITASA and met cool friendly Taiwanese American kids from all over the country, and back on campus I once got interested in helping research Taiwan's history for 10/10 holiday to make flyers to hand out on campus, and from there, I fell in love with learning all about Taiwan--a subject I hadn't known much of anything about but a subject that had been personal for my family members growing up. And once I learned more, I felt confident about "my identity" more, and I began to love sharing Taiwan with anyone and everyone, etc. And I have to say, there is no better setting to learn-&-share--to engage--than on a college campus.

H: Have you written other books or essays previously? When did you discover your love for writing?

A: Yes. In 5th grade I wrote a book with color markers called "The First Coconut". It entailed two cavemen, one named Nut and the other Cocoa, and when Cocoa (the dumber caveman) was walking and counting his fingers one day, he ran into a tree knocking down a hard round fruit. Then Nut (the smarter of the two) found Cocoa lying on the floor, found the fruit, sliced it open with a sharp rock, and together they drank the sweet juice--since they both helped discover it, from then on it was named "Coconut." It had cool illustrations. After that, I generally took a long sabbatical from writing, and only discovered my love for language in college, where I fell in love with writing intricate essays analyzing Faulkner novels for class, then also writing short stories about my fat cat, a drunken Texan-Mexican who looking for a urinal stumbled into church, and a homeless wanderer on the side of a highway. In the past 5 years, though, my love for literature and writing has mostly taken me into American poetry, and--aside from a few op-eds I wrote during college--Humanity at Stake has been my first venture into nonfiction of this sort.

H: Coconut. I like that one! You've come a long way! Anyways, a good portion of the proceeds from your book sales will go towards supporting the non-for-profit organization Human Rights Watch. That is quite admirable of you. Give us some insight into your personal thoughts on human rights beyond Taiwan and on the global level.

A: The bold and essential work that Human Rights Watch does in the world is what's admirable. In the past year when I've often read about the tragic assaults on individual rights told through a news article, email, or website, it is always HRW, Amnesty, or the proactive people at mission-driven organizations like these, who have chosen to dedicate their jobs, skills, and lives to standing up for what they see is right, giving voice to those who deservingly, and urgently, need it. Also, those proactive people do the sometimes controversial but always important work of bringing unwanted attention to the aggressors and violators. For instance, in a blog and emails I've written to friends trying to help give voice to Chinese human rights activists like Hu Jia currently being silenced by the Communist Party and thrown in jail, I've often put to use the great resources at hrw.org like their publication of Hu Jia and Teng Biao's open letter to the Chinese government, "The Real China and the Olympics". Pressure on dictators and violators will only come with disseminating information, and truthful information under a dictator will only come with people who are vocal, passionate, and driven. Also, the other side of what is needed is an audience of many people who are willing to listen, to lend their ears and minds, and in turn to engage by pressuring the violators--thereby completing the transformative loop. In fact, all these components I just mentioned were present and critical during the Taiwanese struggle for individual rights in the 70s, 80s, and 90s, which enabled Taiwan to finally transform into the full human-rights respecting democracy that it is today. I'm not sure if all this is along the lines of an answer you were looking for, Ho Chie, but anyways these are just some thoughts that come to mind about human rights in the world. But what do I know--I'm just a young twenty-six year old thinking about the big world!

H: As am I... And a big world it is. So, what's next for you?

A: Meet people, think about the things in the world, and hopefully do the things that I love to do.

H: That's what I love to hear. Keep up the good work, and thanks so much for your time today! It was a pleasure discovering your initial writing, which lead to this final composition. I have no doubt that many people will learn much about the current issues facing Taiwan and the world through your book. I look forward to catching you on tour sometime!

Check out the book website at: humanityatstake.com
Order your own copy at: amazon.com
Portions of book proceeds will benefit: Human Rights Watch

TaiwaneseAmerican.org is proud to offer autographed copies of Humanity at Stake to three readers of this website! To be entered in the raffle, send an email to admin@taiwaneseamerican.org with the subject line "Humanity" and on June 22nd the winners will be chosen at random.

*EDIT* Congratulations to Daphne L. of Fremont, CA, John T. of New York, NY, and Deborah C. of Owings Mills, MD on winning the books!

Where Jazz, Taiwan, and the Vocal Stylings of Jen Shyu Fuse.

noreply@blogger.com (Ho Chie) — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 22:10:00 +0000

"It doesn't matter if you don't know the music well, I just want you to sing it loud and proud," Jen Shyu declares, as she teaches a traditional Taiwanese folk song to a group of her peers at the North American Taiwanese Womens Association's 2nd Generation program in Los Angeles. This is, after all, a conference where the focus is on connecting the community, bridging this generation with the ones before, and taking pride in their collective sisterhood. During this session, Jen easily captures the group's attention both with her glowing, forceful stage presence as well as her beautiful and captivating voice.

Officially, I am here on behalf of TaiwaneseAmerican.org to support NATWA II and to raise funds for their excellent array of year-round programs and scholarships. But secretly, I feel privileged to be surrounded by a group of talented and amazing women representing various professions, from community organizers to industry executives, from physicians to filmmakers. Artists certainly abound in this unique group of 2nd generation Taiwanese American women. Vocalist and composer Jen Shyu is certainly no exception, as her name is familiar among the modern jazz circles around the world.

She is here at this conference to perform at the closing night dinner and to share her stories with at least three generations of women of Taiwanese heritage. I'm fortunate enough to chat with her briefly to find out more about her dynamic career.

H: How do you describe your music? Does “jazz fusion” correctly capture the essence of your style?

J: Well, I would say my music is a combination of who I am starting with the classical training I received, similar to many Asian Americans who are the children of immigrant parents. In this generation, there are many like me who pursued piano and violin, but in high school and college, I also studied opera. Then, I went through a rebellion period after college graduation.

H: Rebellion?

J: Yes, I had met a group of Asian American jazz musicians, and that was my entrance into jazz and “creative music.” They inspired me to draw from my ancestry as an influence on my music.

Moving to New York was my full entrance into the tradition of jazz and also the rupture of my illusion of what I thought was “jazz,” which is what they say critics called it back in the day before musicians started calling it that. I began to learn
the real meaning and spirit of jazz. What it means to me now is a gestalt and complete unity of influences, from the music of Taiwan that I began to research, from classical to straight-ahead jazz, and from traditions around the world such as in Brazil and Cuba. From this process of self-discovery comes my music.

H: I must admit that I am quite impressed by your music and all the great musicians you've worked with, including Francis Wong and Jon Jang who are certainly well-recognized as musicians and activists!

J: Yes. I think what they taught me as well as other creative artists in the Asian improv circles in the San Francisco Bay Area was to widen our range. The artists in the Asian Improv community weren’t just Asian - they were any creative artist searching for their roots, whether they were Native American, Egyptian, Puerto Rican - we were all in touch with this part of expressing ourselves. As Francis advised, “you should find out what your job is in this world, this universe.” Both Jon and Francis were mentors that offered such sacred wisdom. Even as I moved from San Francisco to New York, their influence was and still is strong. They were my “creative parents” since my real parents weren’t musicians or artists and couldn’t give that specific advice to me. Jon and Francis were so politically active, and they inspired me to be as well.

H: Talking about people, places, and time… you're so well-traveled! You've been to Holland, France, Italy, England, and Germany. You tour regularly through other parts of Europe. And currently, you’re in New York singing with Steve Coleman and Five Elements, right?

J: Exactly. That was another big change for me. I had lived in San Francisco for three years prior to meeting Steve Coleman. I was introduced to Steve by a Cuban drummer friend when I was visiting New York. At that time, I was just considering moving to New York, but I was still a little scared. When I met Steve and gave him my jazz CD, he said to me later, “well you have a nice voice, but what do you want to do with it? Do you want to just sing jazz standards or do you want to put yourself into the music?” What he was saying to me was that I should work harder to create and compose music that included my background. He thought that I had more potential than singing other people’s jazz songs. He pushed me to go further. He also pushed me to go back to Taiwan – the last time I had been there was when I was 7 yrs old.

H: Tell me more about that, the desire to find Taiwanese influences.

J: Working with Asian Improv gave me the initial desire to investigate Taiwanese folk songs. Before I went off to college, my dad had stuffed a collection of folk songs into my luggage. But because I was into musical theater, opera, Western classical music, and other music,I never looked at it. Francis and Jon inspired me to check out that Taiwanese music and see if I could do something with it, which they often did in their music. So that was when I realized I need to go back to Taiwan in order to see the land, be among the people, and speak the language to really understand where this music was coming from. But I was floating, riding on the standards CD I had just produced, waiting for a grant which I didn’t get... and I knew that I eventually wanted to move to New York and also go to Taiwan, but I had this apartment lease, this teaching gig, a car, all these other excuses. So during this in-limbo period, I took some lessons with Steve, who was conceiving an album with voices and he was interested in my voice. When I told him of my desire of going to Taiwan as I knew it was the only way for me to get inside of those folk songs, he simply said, “Why don’t you just go? You could get hit by a bus tomorrow, and then what? You have to go now!” I took him seriously. During those lessons, he introduced me to the music of Charlie Parker, Art Tatum, Von Freeman, in that he had me listen to their improvisations by ear and sing it back by memory. It was difficult at first, like learning a new language. This is where it really begins - listening and getting inside of the music, the era, and the mentality - this is how you begin studying improvisation. And one of the most sophisticated traditions of improvisation is this jazz tradition which was developed by African Americans, which inspired me to find myself. After those lessons, I broke my apartment lease, quit my teaching gig, and went straight to Taiwan.

H: That is amazing! Share some of your experiences in Taiwan.

J: I went for two months on a low budget. I visited my father’s relatives who gave me some leads to finding some folk music singers like Tsai Chen Nan and aboriginal scholars and singers, like this urban Amis tribe choir managed by a government councilman and activist named Song Jing Tsai. These were great leads since I basically started from zero, just hanging out, learning Mandarin by immersion. I took some conversation lessons and tried to get a feel for things culturally. It was amazing. I came back, sang on a recording with Steve. And after that, I went off to Cuba to research the Chinese community and the history of Chinese laborers in Cuba, which was another desire lying dormant. I planned this trip when I planned the Taiwan trip, following Steve’s advice - his advice was basically the catalyst for me to do all the things I wanted to do. He always said that “Success is doing what you want to do. It doesn’t have to be fame or money like how most people see it.” I remember him also telling me that “money is an illusion” in that you don’t need a lot of money to do what you want to do. I really found that to be true on my trip to Taiwan, and those words have since been liberating. After that, he asked me to sing on some gigs in Europe, so then I moved to New York and have been in his band ever since.

H: What's it like being a Taiwanese American woman in the world of jazz? I know I certainly can't name any other person doing what you are doing right now.

J: Well I think it is powerful thing for me. My father is Taiwanese, my mother is from East Timor. I’ve related in the sense that I believe in freedom and human rights. Liberty - it seems Taiwan has been robbed of that time after time with a history of being colonized. It’s something that speaks to me very strongly. So I try to create my own sound, my own path. I don’t want to just go straight classical, straight jazz or pop. Or just to make money. It’s an underground venture, not just about money or popularity. It’s the whole Taiwanese fight as the underdog. I feel a certain resonance with that. Even what I’m doing is a political statement in itself. I’m not following what most parents are expecting, pursuing that safe job, doing something more mainstream. In going against that, it is a political statement. It is a natural part of who I am. A lot of it stems from racism, growing up in the Midwest, and my desire for justice and to break stereotypes. Going through all of this, I realize that I am proud, and that I really want to share this pride with and influence other Taiwanese Americans.

H: It’s your first time at this NATWA conference. Are you enjoying yourself?

J: I love it. It is amazing to meet such amazing women with whom I instantly feel such symbiosis. It’s such a revelation that we’ve been through the same thing. It’s so great! It’s also great that the older generation is here at same time. It’s very inspiring. It’s a great reminder to me as well. As an artist, even though I love people, it’s easy to become engulfed by your art, and since I compose best in solitude without distractions, the act of creating can be a lonely activity. So it’s good to be in touch with fellow Taiwanese Americans.

H: You’ve got your CD entitled For Now out. What's next for you?

J: I have another album that I want to put out; it’s my own original music, not jazz standards. It was cultivated over the past three years with my band called Jade Tongue in New York. The album includes some of these Taiwanese arrangements that I’m performing here at NATWA, and it’s my desire to share Taiwanese culture to mainstream America through these songs because the music and culture are embedded in each other. You can’t separate them. With my dad and cousin’s help, I translated the songs into English or Spanish, and I perform them in a modern and improvisational context. It’s still an ongoing project, and I hope to involve other languages to expose even more people to Taiwanese culture and music.

I also have a community project I want to start. I want to gather children of immigrants who just moved to the Bronx, which is where I live in New York. I plan to hold workshops where these children of immigrants will have to learn folk songs from their parents first and then teach and learn songs from each other. Imagine that - Generations communicating culture through music, teaching each other, finding commonalities through music, learning from differences, promoting peace and understanding. It’s such a beautiful thing.

H: One last question: Stinky tofu or bubble tea?

J: Definitely bubble tea.

H: Sweet!

J: Oh, one more thing I wanted to share; it is advice that I live by, or at least try my best. In the words of filmmaker John Cassavetes to Martin Scorcese: “Film what you want to film, what you need to film, not what you CAN film.” As with music, if you have the skills, it’s very easy just to execute the styles that have been well established, but it’s much harder work to do or create something that is really you.

As I sit here and listen to her share her journey through the fusion of life and music, it’s clear to me that life and music are one and the same for her. She knows that challenges lie ahead of her in this very unique and stylized path through the world of jazz. I can see in her eyes that she realizes it is not going to be immediately rewarding materially or by mainstream standards, but I can already tell that she has succeeded in discovering what is most important - living life with passion.

Visit Jen Shyu's website at: JenShyu.com
Listen to some of her work at: www.MySpace/JenShyu
Purchase Jen's latest solo CD: JenShyu.com/order.html

For the Taiwanese American 2nd generation women out there, check out NATWA II at: natwa2.com/natwa2

*Congrats to Christina C. of Urbana, IL for winning an autographed copy of Jen Shyu's CD from a raffle only available to the members of TaiwaneseAmerican.org's email listserve!*

Ho Chie Tsai is the creator and manager of this web portal site, something that represents and serves the community he cares about. The organizers of NATWA II say he is an honorary member of their organization. As a guy, he definitely feels honored to be part of the sisterhood. It inspires him to continue doing the work he does. Girl power! Go!

A Conversation with the Taiwan Sons-in-Law

noreply@blogger.com (Ho Chie) — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 07:54:00 +0000

by Audrey Jean

What does it mean to be a Taiwanese American? How strong of a tie should we feel towards our parent culture? How much of our life should we devote to exploring and promoting our heritage? These are questions that we all think about and come up with our own answers for. But, however much, or little, we choose to identify with our Taiwanese background, it is after all our heritage, our DNA even, and therefore will always be a part of us.

Well, how do you answer these same questions when Taiwan is not your own homeland, but the one you married into? Is it:

(a) just a cuisine you politely sample at holidays?
(b) a really hard, eight-toned language that you haven’t yet found the courage to tackle?
(c) your new Pacific island destination that is much, MUCH(!), further away than Hawaii, and minus a good surfer scene?

And what, if anything, might cause it to turn into:

(d) a decades-long political passion, that now finds you roaming the halls of Congress, drumming up American support for Taiwan’s international recognition?

The answer (d) is the unlikely story of two Dutchmen, who lobby on Capitol Hill for Taiwan issues, as a full-time concern. And this March, Gerrit van der Wees and Coen Blaauw will take their singular stories back to Taiwan, stumping at various college campuses across the island. They hope that by doing so, they can encourage political participation by Taiwan’s younger generation, particularly in light of the upcoming presidential elections.

As men who have married into the Taiwan family, and who serve daily as voices for Taiwan in the high-power corridors of Washington, DC, they are figuratively and literally two of our leading Taiwan Sons-in-Law. They have recently spent some time for a TaiwaneseAmerican.org interview, in which we get to find out more about these unique gentlemen.

Dr. Gerrit van der Wees was born in The Hague, Netherlands, and is married to Taiwan-born Mei-chin Chen, whom he met at University of Washington/Seattle in the 1970s. In reaction to the “Kaohsiung Incident” of December 1979, when leaders of Taiwan’s fledgling democratic movement were categorically imprisoned, they started Taiwan Communiqué, a bi-monthly newsletter promoting human rights and democracy in Taiwan. Gerrit also, with others, began early lobby efforts on the Hill for aid in releasing the arrested. That lobbying work led to the formation of FAPA in 1982. With Taiwan’s democratic progress in the 1980’s, Taiwan Communiqué shifted focus to Taiwan's isolated international position, and advocated support for Taiwan's UN membership. Gerrit van der Wees’ academic background is in Aerospace Engineering (MA, Delft University, The Netherlands 1971) and Technology Transfer (Ph.D. University of Washington, Seattle 1981). In 2005, Gerrit and his wife returned to Washington, DC to work for FAPA, after several years in The Netherlands. At FAPA, Gerrit maintains contacts within the US Senate, as well as political thinktanks and foreign embassies.

Coen Blaauw is a native of the Netherlands. He has lived in the United States since January 1990 and has been with FAPA since. He has an international law degree from the University of Amsterdam. He wrote his thesis about the Dutch-Taiwanese submarine deal of 1981 and after that he got gradually involved in Taiwan affairs. His specialty is FAPA's connections with the U.S. Congress; especially with the House of Representatives. Part of his work consists of coaching legislation from the beginning to the end. He drafts Taiwan related legislation, identifies introducers, recruits support for the bills and seeks to bring the legislation to the floor of Congress. He thus has built up a profound knowledge and expertise on how Washington works in general and on Capitol Hill in particular. He is married to Iris Yenching Ho and is thus a Taiwan Kiaⁿsai.

AJ: What are your favorite Taiwanese snacks?

GVDW: At a young age, I became addicted to peanuts. When my mother-in-law found out, she made sure that at every meal there was a big dish of peanuts, even at breakfast!

CB: Whatever my in-laws surprise me with. And I have never met an oyster omelet I didn't like.

AJ: Let us in on the truth - what is your "top secret" of how you connect with your Taiwanese in-laws?

GVDW: Although it was not easy to communicate due to the language barrier, I was always made to feel at home. I learned to survive by speaking the essential expressions related to food: "have you eaten", "delicious", and "I have eaten enough," etc.

CB: From the beginning I have always bonded in a major way with my grandparents-in-law (A-ma, and A-kong!) and once that was settled, the rest followed smoothly.

AJ: What did you know about Taiwan as a child? Now that you know so much about Taiwan, what is your "60-second pitch" to describe Taiwan and your political position to someone who doesn't know anything about it?

GVDW: I grew up in Indonesia, so there was always a close connection with Asia, but it wasn't until the 1970s in Seattle, that I found out about the real Dutch connection with Taiwan through books like George Kerr's "Formosa Betrayed" and Prof. Peng Ming-min's "A Taste of Freedom." 60 second pitch: Taiwan used to be severely repressed under the KMT; in the 1980s and 1990s it made a remarkable transition to democracy; this new situation requires that we ditch the "One China" policy, and adopt a new policy which normalizes relations with Taiwan and supports Taiwan's membership in the international community as a full and equal member.

CB: I knew that Taiwan was the place where you could get cheap prescription eyeglasses. When I was a kid, my parents took us to Taiwan to spend a long hot summer with my aunt and uncle in Hsinchu. (My uncle worked at the time for the Dutch Philips electronics company in the Hsinchu Science Park.) And, during our first daytrip to Taipei, me and all my brothers and sisters bought ourselves a pair of old-fashioned thick horn-rimmed glasses (making me look like Clark Kent for a couple of weeks!). All joking aside, Taiwan is a great country with vibrant energy (24 hour karaoke - something that never fails to make Hill staffers that have been to Taiwan laugh). And the way I see the people relentlessly trot on their path towards full independence demonstrates the Taiwanese people's resilience and persistence. Their pursuit for values in sync with the values of full and free democracies greatly impresses me.

AJ: Was there a moment or particular time period when you became irrevocably absorbed into Taiwanese politics? ( … never to return?)

GVDW: In the 70s, when I was doing graduate work in aerospace engineering at UW/Seattle. I was also active in Amnesty International, and with my wife Mei-chin started to apply the methods we learned in Amnesty to Taiwan's human rights situation. This really took off in 1980, after the Kaohsiung Incident, when we started to publish Taiwan Communiqué (www.taiwandc.org/twcom).

CB: During the Legislative Yuan election campaign of 1995, I spent a week in Chiayi campaigning. The night before election day, when both candidates' camps were parading up and down main street with fireworks, music, bells, drums and gongs, I (being the tallest) was in charge of carrying the yellow banner with red flames on the edges at the head of the procession. The huge big Hanji character on the flag read "WAR!" When the parade started it felt as if I was in hell; two hours later, when the parade was about to come to a screeching halt, it felt like heaven. I had never felt that close to the people of Taiwan before.

AJ: What is the most inspiring moment of your Taiwan career that you wish to share with the Taiwanese American second generation?

GVDW: The election of President Chen Shui-bian in March 2000 was really an electrifying moment: we had worked for democracy in Taiwan for more than 20 years, and finally -- and very unexpectedly -- he won, completing the transition to democracy.

CB: The most defining moment in my career will be the moment Taiwan declares de jure independence. I am still waiting for that moment and am growing rather impatient.

Audrey Jean is a Taiwanese American living in the Washington, DC area. She is an olden days TAC goer, former ITASA Conference Host and National Director, one-time DPP intern, and frequent Taiwan visitor. By day, she is a corporate attorney for a large corporation. By night, she is the personal cultural ambassador to her husband, another Taiwan Son-in-Law, whose answers to the multi-choice question above would have be “(a), (b) and (c).” Yes, she’s working on it.

The Hsu-nami: Erhu Rock

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Wu) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 04:43:00 +0000

by Anna Wu (www.annawu.com)

The Hsu-nami. It’s an audacious rock band with a twist. Based in Mahwah, New Jersey, the group comprises standard rock band elements (Brent Bergholm- Lead Guitar, Vinny Belcastro- Guitar, Derril Sellers- Bass, John Manna- Drums, and Adam Toth- Piano/Synth). But in place of a lead singer, you’ll find 24-year-old Jack Hsu playing erhu, a two-stringed “Chinese violin”-- revamped with electronic pickups, of course. So I sat down for a little online chat with Jack and got him talking about his music and his band.

A: Hey Jack! I've had a chance to look at and listen to a lot of your stuff. Hsu-nami is an interesting band with a unique concept—“erhu rock" as you've called it. How do you explain Hsu-nami to people who aren't familiar with you guys?

J: I guess it's progressive instrumental rock music where Asian traditional erhu music fuses western metal, funk, and hard rock. It’s about cultures coming together to make new ones while paying tribute to the past as well.

A: How did the concept come about? And how did you get the name Hsu-nami?

J: I used to play with this band or duet called Genso Fantasia with a guitarist and me on erhu. We’d play in cafés. And then one day I needed a backup band for our record release performance, so I asked my friend's metal band to fill in. After a while, the guitarist moved to Japan and my friends that filled in really enjoy the music, so we decided to make that a real band.

Hsu-nami was my nickname in college actually. Haha. I think it fits pretty well, and since it's all instrumental, you can think of it with your own different descriptions.

A: It is quite catchy, and I think fitting for your music with all the storm metaphors.

J: Yeah, as long as people know how to spell it, haha.

A: Haha. Yes, a common plight for many Taiwanese names. So I’ve read that you're quite a multitalented musician. What are some of the other instruments you play? And how does that influence the music you make with Hsu-nami?

J: Hah, well I’ve played the violin since I was little, since I was four, and I picked up the erhu later. But since I knew how to play violin it was pretty easy to pick up the erhu. On our record it has my violin parts in couple songs. I play piano and guitar too, so I basically compose with those instruments.

A: It sounds like quite the mix. What gave you the idea to learn erhu though?

J: I guess it was my parents when I was little. Since I knew the violin, why not erhu? Especially since it represents traditional Chinese culture. I actually went to Nanking, China, to learn erhu for a couple months when I was in middle school. I play those other instruments pretty well, but everyone plays those here. Violin for me is too standard. There’s not enough freedom. But afterwards, I discovered improvisation and songwriting, which can make things mine. It's just something that represents my identity. I like it that way.

A: So as a listener, I’m always curious as to how the music actually gets made. What’s the songwriting process like for Hsu-nami?

J: Well, it depends on the song. Sometimes I write songs and just record it myself and sent it to the rest of the band to listen to, and they will put their own parts into the songs. That’s what we usually do. One of the member just brings song ideas to the band, and we figure out if it works or not. Everyone has different influences, and they all match up pretty well.

A: Well congratulations, because you just recently released your first EP in November. That’s really exciting!

J: Yeah, Finally! It was November 30th, just recently. It was two years in the making. We recorded everything at our bassist Derril Seller's home recording studio. It’s called Entering the Mandala, and there are seven tracks on the EP, plus bonus live tracks.

A: Do you have a favorite track?

J: Yeah, “The Entering of the Mandala,” the last track, because it means a lot. The song is inspired by Tibetan Buddhism. The Mandala is basically a religious belief about reaching the highest level of enlightenment. If you ever see a Mandala, it looks like a circle drawing, but you’re supposed to see it as a 3D object.. it is basically like a castle and there are different levels. the lowest level is suffering… death… and then each level just progresses up and up, better and better. The song is basically the same way. It starts from a slow intro that’s really, really sad and progresses to become happier and heavier towards the end. That's how i wrote this song.

I feel like playing music is a way to reach out to people. I’ve played music since I was a little kid. I was taught to practice music 12 hours a day and not to give up on something easily. I think it's a good thing, because now when I’m older, I’m easily devoted to things that I truly care about. It made me have patience in everything.

A: What do your parents think of this whole thing?

J: They like it, I guess. They’re supportive. Actually, they always give me ideas of what I should do on stage. Haha.

A: What’s your typical audience like right now?

J: Well, all different kinds. All different ages. I guess it depends on our shows. We’re mostly playing around the New Jersey/New York area. We play in different venues—everything from bars to Chinese festivals to Asian events and college shows. We even opened for the Taiwanese death-metal band Chthonic (featured here in an earlier spotlight).

A: What are your hopes for the band's future?

J: We are shopping for labels right now. We’re doing ok with publicity so far. People find us since we play a lot of shows and get some name out there. We are already working on a second album, and it's already a lot more elaborate songwriting compared to the first album. Oh yeah, we want to tour Asia and the West Coast. And sell couple million records along the way. Haha.

A: Well we wish you the best! And thank you for taking the time to chat with me. Is there anything else you’d like our readers to know?

J: Thank you for your support, and be sure to check out our website!

Indeed. Click below to see, hear, and learn more about The Hsu-nami.
Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/thehsunamirocks
Facebook: http://ramapo.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2204802484

TaiwaneseAmerican.org is happy to present free autographed copies of The Hsu-nami’s debut album, Entering the Mandala. Email admin@taiwaneseamerican.org with the subject line “hsu-nami” by February 17 and we’ll randomly select our winners.

*EDIT* Congratulations Dan G. of Durham, NC, Erica L. of San Diego, CA, Young L. of Alameda, CA, Tiffany K. of Ann Arbor, MI and William B. of Berkeley, CA for winning the CDs!

“What Are You?”: Thoughts on Taiwanese American Identity

noreply@blogger.com (Ho Chie) — Sun, 02 Dec 2007 21:06:00 +0000

by Shawna Yang Ryan
Author of Locke 1928

“What are you?”

It seems that every essay I’ve read on hapa identity begins with this question, perhaps because a hapa’s own identity formation begins with others asking this question. Being a mixed race Asian (let’s see how many different labels I can fit into one essay!), I am rather used to being identified in different ways by different people. Though who I am is very clear to me, labeling it is more difficult, and I imagine that for people who aren't mixed it may be a strange space to comprehend. Recently, I embarked on an oral history project with first generation Taiwanese Americans, and the stories I’ve heard have added another dimension to my thoughts on my hapa (?) Taiwanese (?) American (?) identity. I’m in my 30s now, and I’m beginning to think that there will never be one “answer,” just a series of questions and ideas that lead to yet more. Thus, the form of this post reflects that: rather than a unified piece with a beginning, middle and “end,” this is a collage.

Imagine this process. Imagine you call yourself “mixed,” acknowledging you fall somewhere in the grey space in the racial binary. Then, you refine that a little. You are hapa: part Asian and part White. You learn some history, refine it even more: Chinese and German and Irish and English. You may even throw in some fractions: half Chinese, one-quarter German. . . . And then you learn a little more history, get a little more politically involved, find yourself not at one, but multiple rallies, shouting for the rights of a tiny yam-island to be recognized as a distinct and independent country. You edit documents for the Ministry of Health, helping them fight for a bid to join the WHO (you were in Taipei during the SARS epidemic—you know how much this matters). You interview families of the victims of 2-28, translate for their foundation. You feel your heart and politics are aligned with the Taiwan struggle

But can you refine things even further and call yourself Taiwanese American, especially if your mother, though born in Taiwan, disavows a Taiwanese identity? Especially if the people you have been talking with make a strong and long-standing distinction—born out of a very concrete history when the distinction could determine your future, or even your life—between Chinese-in-Taiwan and Taiwanese?

In the summer of 1999, I took my first solo trip to Taipei. I had been living in Taichung, with my aunt, for a year already, and somehow I’d managed that year without once visiting the Shilin Night Market. The trip is memorable to me not because I ate the first bagel I’d had in a year, or that I found a Starbucks (this was before there was a franchise on every corner), but because it became the first time I heard of the 228 Incident. This, in itself, was significant, as it led to a project (a novel) that has consumed me for the last 5 years, but even more so because the discovery of the incident also marked the beginning of my understanding of the Taiwanese (and, by extension, the Taiwanese American) identity.

Wandering around downtown, I stumbled across New Park or, as it’s more commonly known, 228 Peace Park. I encountered the old Taipei Broadcasting Bureau building, faintly Spanish in design, the new home for the 2-28 Memorial Museum. I walked among portraits of the dead and missing, looked over their personal belongings—card cases and books, etc.—and read stories from their surviving family members. In short, I discovered a horror, a secret history, that I had never before known, and I wondered how such a thing could have been suppressed for so long.

Briefly: On the night of February 27, 1947, a widow selling black market cigarettes had her goods confiscated by KMT military police. She protested, claiming they were all she had to make a living on, there was a tussle, a crowd formed, she was pistol whipped and another bystander was shot. The incident set fire to the long smoldering resentment of the Taiwanese toward the newly arrived KMT, and the next day, on 2-28, they took to the streets in protest. There was a back and forth of negotiations, martial law, Mainlanders hiding from angry Taiwanese, and then reinforcements from China were called in and the tables turned. The KMT quickly and efficiently decimated a large segment of the intellectual and political Taiwanese elite (plus anyone else who got on the bad side of the wrong person). Because the arrests and executions were quick, sometimes random, and illegal, no records were kept and it is not known how many were killed, though the stated figure ranges from 10-20,000. The whole thing is much more complicated that this—stretching back into the Japanese colonial era and forward, past the end of martial law, but skeletally, this is the 2-28 Incident.

But I am trying to talk about identity.

My mother left Taiwan in 1974. As a child, I could barely understand the difference between the People’s Republic of China and the Republic of China (resulting in one night in 3rd grade when I insisted my mom had it all wrong and that she was from the PRC—I’d seen “Republic of China” scrawled on the big box of clothes sent by my grandmother. This is a harrowing memory for me—my first major fight with my mother, ending with me screaming and crying on my bunk bed), much less the concept that my mother was Chinese born in Taiwan. Even now, I’m in awe of the complications of identity for the segment of that generation into which my mother falls—born in Taiwan, but not Taiwanese, vehemently against China, yet always hoping to “return.”

Some people claim that the 228 Incident is the root of the modern Taiwanese identity. The persecution, the enforced silence, the smothering of the mother tongue—these all separate the waishengren (“people from outside the province”—the label is itself problematic, but that is another essay) from the benshenreng (“people from this province”). Others call the distinction as one between “old” immigrants and “new “immigrants,” naming only the aborigines the real “Taiwanese.” In my interviews, I’ve found that there is much diversity in defining the “Taiwanese” identity.

In his book The Accidental Asian: Notes of a Native Speaker, Eric Liu notes that the identity “Asian American” was created as a defensive posture against a common experience of prejudice. Asian Americans grouped together because non-Asians lumped them together. As there was less and less to fight against, Asian Americans started to try to base the identity on commonalities—to find the common ground between Korean, Chinese, Japanese, etc (manga? kimchee? Bruce Lee?). In Taipei today, and even in the homes of my waishengren family, you hear Taiwanese and Mandarin being mixed without regard for sentence—or even thought—borders. Many young people are aware of the “retrocession,” of 2-28 Incident, of martial law, but it’s old history to them. They have other issues: Taiwan’s exclusion from the global politics, the looming threat of China. These things matter because they are in Taiwan, on this island. The Taiwanese identity—perhaps not now—but in the future, may become a national identity rather than a predominantly ethnic one, the way “American” encompasses so much, but most of all a common culture, a common patriotism.

So what, then, of Taiwanese American, especially when “Taiwanese” seems to function as an ethnic adjective for the noun “American”? What ties us together? Do we meld differences between waishengren and benshengren from our place in America—are we linked by what we have in common: that little leaf shaped island?

I think that for the second generation, this is a necessary way to think. Racial labels are fluid. Whenever there has been a need to expand a population, the definition of that population has simply been expanded (one example is the one-drop rule of African American identity, established during the slave era, and now wielded by the African American community itself to create strength in numbers). With Taiwan’s “official” existence diminishing, strength in numbers is needed to create a voice strong enough to be heard over the rumblings of China.

Like I said, this is a collage, and I have no answers, so maybe it is appropriate to end with that question. If identity is not something we are born with, but can come from multiple sources, if it can come from shared experience, if others can force it upon us, then can it also be chosen, can it be modified? Can an American girl, one-half Asian (but which half? left or right?), be Taiwanese American?

Born in 1976 in Sacramento, California, child of parents who met during the Vietnam War when her father was stationed in Taiwan, Shawna Yang Ryan graduated from the University of California, Berkeley, and received a M.A. from the University of California, Davis. In 2002, she was a Fulbright Scholar in Taiwan, and in 2006 received the Maurice Prize for Fiction. She currently lives in Berkeley, California.

Her next project is a book about Taiwan's 40 years of martial law and she is looking for personal histories. If you--or someone you know--lived in Taiwan any time during the period of 1947-1987 and are willing to share that experience, please contact Shawna at shawnayangryan(at)gmail.com. Visit her website at ShawnaYangRyan.com.

For those in the San Francisco Bay area, join this talented novelist at an upcoming reading hosted by EBTACSC, NATMA 2G, NATWA II, and TaiwaneseAmerican.org. The event takes place on December 9, 2007 at 1:00 pm at the East Bay TaiwaneseCommunity Center, 1755 Sunnyvale Ave., Walnut Creek, CA. To see the Evite link, click here!

Andrea Lin AKA Superdoll

noreply@blogger.com (Ho Chie) — Sun, 14 Oct 2007 21:59:00 +0000

You've probably seen this beautiful woman on TV at some point, but didn't know it was her. She is Andrea Lin, a model, dancer, artist, and now producer who recently moved from Taiwan in 2001. After establishing her stateside career in New York City, she now currently resides in LA.

I recently sat down with Andrea in a small little cafe in the heart of LA's Chinatown to delve into her world, to uncover the reality of her alter ego "Superdoll," and to find out what has propelled her blossoming career.

H: Hi Andrea! I know you're a busy person, so thanks for joining me today to give the audience of TaiwaneseAmerican.org an opportunity to learn a little bit about who you are!

A: Sure!

H: I'm impressed! You are a model, dancer, actress, producer, choreographer... You've been on P. Diddy, Madonna, Avril Lavigne, Britney Spears, Jamie Foxx music videos. You've been on Spike TV commercials, the Dave Chappelle show, and more. Your modeling and print work is too extensive to list. This three page resume reads as if you are three people in one, but the underlying theme seems to be a certain artistry. When people ask who you are, what do you tell them?

A: I tell them I'm an artist that does many things. I love art. I started drawing when I was a little girl. I've always believed that performance and visual arts should work together because the goal is to provoke a certain feeling. I think of it all as a creative painting, and each and every detail should be the best that it can be. It should touch people. That's my goal.

H: I saw some of your drawings and artwork on your Flickr album. Do you do that just for fun?

A: Yes, I wanted to be a manga comic book artist when I was young. To me, manga represents life, conflict, drama, creativity, dreams, and how to get through it all. It was hard though, because during the time I was growing up, the usual saying in Taiwan was "you must study hard or you should work in the factories." I knew what I wanted to do, but I felt I that I only could do it as a hobby, not as a profession. I knew what I felt most passionate about and what moved my heart, but I felt that my environment was denying my dreams in every way. So I learned to deny myself and embrace what I was expected to.

After travelling to America on my own, I realized my opportunities to break out of a destiny that I was told to accept. So I did. I gave up a high-profile degree, family and my homeland. I said to myself, "I'd rather be a poor artist instead of a wealthy robot." I was ready to stand by my choices. If I failed, then at least I tried, and I would know I was not a coward.

H: So that is was ultimately brought you back here from Taiwan?

A: In 1999, I had gotten into one of the top colleges in Taiwan. You know, it's a high pressure school system there, but after I started my first year in one of the toughest colleges, I just discovered that I wasn't interested in that path. I also had been pursuing modeling and ballet, so I took a year off and soon went back to America.

Our discussion proceeded into the topic of passion and motivation. As Andrea recounted various stories from a manga ballerina character that inspired her to follow her dreams to an epic story of a defeated king who reclaimed his power through suffering and submission, I couldn't help but wonder about the challenges she had faced in her own life. The bottom line, as she says, is about "truism vs. individualism," and it is these ideals that influenced her way of thinking. It was clear to me that Andrea is a person who has thought deeply about life goals and jumping beyond boundaries. She is driven to succeed.

A: "I don't want to be bound by my environment. I must think for myself. What is the purpose behind each thing we do? Is it right or wrong for me? It's not necessarily what society says, it's living by my own principles."

Andrea's cell phone rang, and I insisted she take the call. Although, I tried not to listen in, I couldn't help but tune into a heated discussion regarding financial issues, contracts, and conflicts with one of the hired dancers in her latest project. Clearly, in the fantasy world of art, dance, and modeling, to succeed in this business, one must be a strong and savvy businessperson as well.

A: It's rough to be female. Rougher to be a pretty foreign female in this business. I believe in putting in 100% effort. It really takes courage. But more than that, it takes endurance. You can't hold back. You have to always move forward. Conquer it.

H: I love how your website is set up. You have "Who is Andrea Lin" on one side, and "Who is Superdoll" on the other. So, tell me more about "Superdoll" and this dual persona? Who is she? What is it all about?

A: The basis is life. Superdoll is fantasy. It is my emotional projection of ideal, but I can't live it day by day. It is an emotional outlet as a performer who exists in the space she belongs in, doing what she wants to do. Yet I can be me, and still be accepted by society.

H: What projects are you working now? And where do you hope to be in the next few years?

A: Right now, I'm currently producing my own dance instructional DVD. It's my choreography, my concept, my creative direction. Doing something like this is a dream! It isn't easy, but it's worth it. Hopefully next year, I can continue launching a Superdoll campaign... The subject matter, for now, is a secret! My dance DVD will be here very soon (http://danceagogo.com). It's dedicated to women, femininity and movement. It's hot, you'll see!

H: I'm sure it will be! Oh, one last question... What's your favorite Taiwanese food?

A: Stinky tofu!

H: It's so funny you said that! I just happen to have a little appreciation gift for you. It's a TaiwaneseAmerican.org sponsored "Stinky Tofu" T-shirt design!

A: Oh, it's so cute! I like it!

H: Thanks again for your time Andrea! And good luck on all your future endeavors! We'll be keeping an eye on you and your future projects!

Producer/Director Del Weston. Editor Josh Neufeld. Music Ben Chan. Photography/Graphics: Andrea Lin.

Click below for more about this Superdoll:
AndreaLin.net
Andrea Lin | Performer:Artist:Designer Reel
Superdoll MySpace site
HD Commercial featuring Superdoll Andrea Lin.
Andrea's Flickr Album

Metalheads, politicians and old Taiwanese folk come together

noreply@blogger.com (YuLing Koh) — Tue, 18 Sep 2007 18:19:00 +0000

By YuLing Koh Hsu

Dani Azathonian Hands (drums), Su-Nung the Bloody String (hena), Doris Thunder Tears (bass), fan Ken Pierce of Piercing Metal, Freddy the Left Face of Maradou (vocals), CJ Dispersed Fingers (keyboards) and Jesse the Infernal (guitar) after a show in New York City.

They have spurred 16-foot mosh pits in California.

Fans have asked them to bite their necks (a girl fan got a kiss on her cheek instead).

They keep smiling despite flat tires, lost instruments and having their masks confiscated at international security.

They have compelled our Taiwanese parents to attend their concerts and endure hours of aural abrasion to show their support for Taiwan.

Heavy metal god Ozzy Osbourne invited them to join Ozzfest as Chthonic (THON-ick, Greek for spirits of the underworld), the first Asian metal band to play the metal festival.

Not only are they Taiwanese, metal and “black” metal, they are political. Rousing yet beautiful heavy metal anthems, guttural growls mixed with Taiwanese myth and history simultaneous with educating a whole new demographic about Taiwan’s struggle to defeat diplomatic isolation.

“I think it’s great Chthonic is incorporating mythology and music with politics,” said Mike B. Walker, 18, of Kew Gardens. “I didn't know anything about Taiwan before I started researching Chthonic lyrics. Taiwan has its own government, pays its own taxes, has its own army and has its own language! It’s silly. Death to China and death to false metal!”

Chthonic is reaching fans that are generally not aware that Taiwan has been self-ruled since nationalist forces fled there in 1949 after losing civil war with communist forces in China. It had a United Nations seat as the Republic of China until 1971 when China asserted sovereignty and threatened military action if Taiwan tried to secede.

“Our priority to is play metal and play music, to make noise for our fans. And then, as Taiwanese citizens, we have to pay attention to the international situation,” said Freddy Lim, lead singer for Chthonic. “Any painter, teacher, anyone, everyone has to give a shit about your country. We are not politicians so we use our career to fight as best we can.”

Chthonic opened for Nile last Wednesday night at BB King Blues Club in New York City with “Indigenous Laceration” off the latest record, Seediq Bale. Some fans were screaming along, singing about the aboriginal Taiwanese Seediq tribe whose rebellion against colonial rule was violently crushed by the Japanese army in the 1900s. Revolver magazine praised Seediq Bale as "a booming blend of beautiful brutality and theatrical gloom."

Chthonic’s debut album, Where The Ancestors' Souls Gathered, describes the perilous sea journey between China and Taiwan. Sophomore recording 9th Empyrean, told of an epic battle between Chinese Han spirits and the spirit gods of Taiwan's aboriginal people. Relentless Recurrence was inspired by a Taiwanese folk legend about a demonic ghost that seeks revenge.

Even the face paint derives from Taiwanese folklore and art. Corpse paint allows some gods the power to judge good and evil.

Fans quickly agreed that the use of the hena, a traditional Eastern two-stringed violin, adding a female element (the bassist is female) and having a cause makes Chthonic innovative and refreshing in the black metal world that is usually anti-Christian or simply mythological.

"Chthonic is worthy of being called the Black Sabbath of Asia," said Kurt Williams, 21, of Brooklyn. "I mean, that’s a heavy pressure to have, but I think Chthonic incorporates so many different elements while still being so musically talented, that they can pull it off. I love it. Americans are loving them."

They ended the night with “UNLimited Taiwan." The rate of hairwhipping and headbanging rose exponentially as Freddy sang and screamed about how the U.N. is limiting Taiwan’s unlimited potential to rise up in the international community.

Chthonic headlined a special show just blocks from the U.N. on Sunday at Highline Ballroom in New York City and just days before the 62nd United Nations General Assembly session opens.

New Jersey-based rock group Hsu-nami opened. Hsu-nami also features the hena in their music.

Chthonic is continuing to tour nationwide with Cradle of Filth before its European tour with Finnish folk-metal band Ensiferum begins.

Email admin@taiwaneseamerican.org with subject line "Chthonic" for a chance to win an autographed CD or autographed paper Chthonic dolls. Send your email by October 13, and we'll randomly pick our winners.
*EDIT* Congratulations to Catherine C. of Cambridge, MA for winning the prize!

Check out their tour diary and see if you recognize any of the Taiwanese and Taiwanese-American folks that have helped them along the Ozzfest tour.

Become their friend on MySpace

Los Angeles Times feature on Chthonic

International Herald Tribune feature on Chthonic

Washington Post feature on Chthonic

New York Times feature on Chthonic

Here is the band website. Do not be afraid.

Perspectives on Taiwan and the United Nations: A Personal Journey

noreply@blogger.com (Ho Chie) — Thu, 13 Sep 2007 23:03:00 +0000

by Iris Ho

On September 15, I will be in New York to take part in the “UN for Taiwan” rally that will take place simultaneously with the one held in Taiwan. I have been looking forward to this event and am excited to see many friends there!

It has been 35 years since the people of Taiwan have had any representation in the United Nations. Accordingly, Taiwan is not a member of any other UN-affiliated organizations, such as the World Health Organization, which failed to provide any medical assistance to Taiwan when SARS took 80 Taiwanese lives a few years ago. Year after year, the UN voted down proposals submitted by Taiwan’s diplomatic allies to discuss Taiwan’s UN representation in its annual gathering every September. This year, the UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon rejected Taiwan’s UN application outright without forwarding it to the Security Council as mandated by the council’s rules and procedures.

Throughout my life, international relations have always been my passion. I pursued a minor in international relations for my undergraduate studies at National Cheng-chi University in Taipei. I was fascinated by the history, the grand missions and the humanitarian accomplishments of international organizations, such as the United Nations, as taught by my Taiwanese professors and from what I read in the text books. I memorized with enthusiasm everything we learned about all the good deeds done by the United Nations. My dream was to work in the United Nations one day.

In my junior year in college, I had a chance to live in Cambridge, UK for a summer. One weekend, all my friends planned to visit Spain, however, I was the only one from Taiwan and the only one who had to apply for a visa. The Spanish consulate told me that because Spain and Taiwan did not have diplomatic relations, I could not get my visa in time before my friends left for Spain. I was left alone in a big empty house while my friends waved goodbye and were on their way to drink Sangria, dance the Flamenco and visit the famously unfinished Sagrada Familia Cathedral in Barcelona.

I then realized that, as a Taiwanese national, I would never be able to work for the United Nations – simply because Taiwan is not a member state. I had believed that the United Nations existed to protect the weak, to right wrongs and injustices, and to assist those in need. I thought all people around the world could belong to the United Nations as the organization claims in its Charter. Apparently this did not apply to the people of Taiwan.

This year, for the first time ever, the Taiwanese government attempted to apply for UN membership under the name "Taiwan." Over the past decade, Taiwan's government pushed for the Republic of China's "returning" to the UN. Anyone with a tiny sense and understanding of world affairs would know that the older approach would never work.

Today's Taiwan is a democratic and prosperous nation with a population larger than two thirds of the members of the UN. The name "Taiwan" is associated with many success stories known throughout the international community. Acer, BenQ, Chien-Ming Wang and many more – all "Made in Taiwan." Ugly politics and naked Chinese intimidation stand in the way of Taiwan's accession to the UN.

What upsets me even more is that the United States, the country where I reside today, repeatedly rejects Taiwan's plans of holding a referendum on this issue next spring. A referendum is the most basic democratic mechanism representing a people's will. It was the generation of Taiwanese democracy activists before us who sacrificed their lives and freedom, so that the people in Taiwan today could participate in peaceful referendums and free elections.

How can the United States, while it champions global freedom and democracy, not support a referendum in Taiwan? If China were OK with the Taiwanese UN referendum, would the US then be OK with it as well? If the answer is yes, when did the redline of China become the redline of the US?

Getting Taiwan into the United Nations is hard. In a way, we have the whole world against us. But I believe in the spirit of Taiwan – the determination, the perseverance and the fortitude of the people of Taiwan. I yearn for the day when Taiwan is admitted to the UN and when a future generation with the same passion for international affairs as I have, will be able to serve in the United Nations, proudly, for Taiwan.

If you are equally passionate about Taiwan’s membership in the UN or other international organizations, I encourage you to send an email to the US Government through www.capwiz.com/fapa or join me and other community members at the rally this Saturday in front of the United Nations in New York.

Iris Ho grew up near Snake Alley in Taipei. She holds a Masters degree in International Affairs from George Washington University and currently works at the Formosan Association for Public Affairs' Headquarters in Washington, DC. FAPA is a grassroots organization that promotes support for Taiwan on Capitol Hill.

Q&A Spotlight on Wesley Du

noreply@blogger.com (Connie Lee) — Thu, 09 Aug 2007 08:24:00 +0000

After a hectic time trying to get our schedules to match, I finally spoke with Wesley Du, a Taiwanese American playwright over the phone. Du is currently busy working on his new one act play, Jupiter and Nebula, which opens on August 9 and runs until the 25th at 8 p.m. at the Actor's Playpen Theater in Hollywood. But Du warned with a laugh, “No ‘Asian people time’ because it’s a small theatre. If you come in late, people can actually see you coming in. You have to walk through the stage, right in front of the actors.”

He also seemed very friendly and was forgiving that he had to wake up early Sunday morning to speak with me. :)

Q: Explain a little bit about yourself—what inspires you, and how did you get into theatre?

A: Well, I got into theatre because I was trying out for the basketball team, and I got cut all three years in a row because I was never very athletic. So then I auditioned for the play called, One Mad Night, and I got cast as this horrible, stereotypical Asian guy named Wing. I recently emailed my drama teacher telling her how irresponsible it was of her to put me in that part along with the part of Ho Jon in Mash. She had no idea how exploitive she was being. I grew up in Richmond, Virginia, the former capital of the Confederacy. So at that time, being young and impressionable, I didn’t know how degrading it was to play a caricature and all the white people actually gave me a standing ovation. They were actually affirming my bad acting. How appropriate huh? That’s how I got into the theatre, and then from there, I auditioned for schools to get into their theater programs.

I went to California Institute of the Arts for a year and a half, and they basically said to me after the first semester of my second year, “Wesley we don’t think you’re an artist.” They weren’t giving me much attention anyway because I was pretty much like the token Asian boy, you know what I mean? The only Asian actor really there. Basically I said to them, “I think you’re crazy. I don’t think you know what you’re talking about. I’m going to do this.” When I look back on that time I probably wasn’t as good as I could be but I think my whole circumstance of leaving home, being the only Asian person in the program, being 18 and confused about myself played a factor into their decision. So I transferred back home to Virginia Commonwealth University, and I did really well there: I produced, acted and wrote a play called American Chinks Reborn. That took about a year to get done. We got an undergraduate research grant. It wasn’t like a little two month student production. We actually built the set, got the theatre, did all the publicity—which took about a year to get in shape.

My mentor, friend, teacher, the late Marvin Sims, former president of the Black Theatre Network directed the play. We got standing ovations all three nights, and the reason why I wrote it was because I wasn’t getting cast in anything. Neither was the other Asian guy in the theatre department, so I said, “I’m going to write something. I’m going to do it myself.” My mentor, who was an African American man, said the same thing, “Wesley you’ve got to do it yourself, because no one’s going to give you anything.” That’s what we did, and that’s how I got started writing. It was a real testing point for me. I could have given up and gone on to get some general education degree and work at my dad’s restaurant but what kind of life would that be?

Q: I've read about you working with Philip Kan Gotanda, the playwright. Explain a little bit about that.

A: I moved to San Francisco after graduation for three years. I was mentored by Philip Kan Gotanda, and he helped me with my play, Shui Jiao, that had readings at a lot of the Asian American theatres in the United States. I kept hounding Philip to read my stuff and I finally broke him down enough that he agreed to meet with me. He’s been more than just a mentor and I am forever in debt to him for all the help he’s given to me. While in college they never made us read Asian American plays so it was something that I sought after. I really liked Philip’s plays and I felt a lot of them spoke directly to me and how I was feeling at that time.

Q: Who else was involved in your projects?

A: When I moved to San Francisco, I was a part of this group called the New Works Incubator Group at the Asian American Theatre Company. It was basically suppose to be a throw back to the way people like David Henry Hwang, Philip Gotanda, and Frank Chin started out. I developed friendships there. That’s how we had readings for the plays—we got the actors from that Incubator Group. The play going up really soon, in about a week, one of the actors, Jared Asato he was also in the New Works Incubator Group.

Q: The topics for your plays have often included Asian American themes. Did you start out knowing you were going to be involved in writing about Asian American identity, or did it grow out of a more personal experience? Are there any other plays you have written that focus on other themes?

A: I believe all of my plays are at the heart about love and why we love one another and to what extent we love one another. Of course it’s about Asian American identity, racism, internalized racism, but it all come out of my own personal experience because really that’s all I have to work from. I grew up in Richmond, Virginia, but at the heart of it, it’s really about the relationships. Shui Jiao’s a relationship play about a father and a son, and between a husband and a wife. American Chinks Reborn is a relationship play between two brothers (basically about the relationship I have with my own older brother), and Jupiter and Nebula is a relationship play between two lovers. All I have is myself to use. It comes down to what I want to say about the world and humanity.

Q: Do you try to be politically correct when you write?

A: I don’t necessarily think about being politically correct. The first line in my play Jupiter and Nebula is, “The bitch called me a cunt!” and I know it can be offensive to some people. But we did a run through for my producer. She’s a woman, and at first she was unsure about the piece. My producers were both a bit skeptical about producing it because of the content. But at the end of the run though she was crying.

I never try to be “politically correct,” I’m just trying to tell a good story. At the same time I’m trying to tell a good story, I’m trying to be responsible in telling that story as truthfully as I can. I don’t necessarily have a responsibility to anything except telling the story as best as I can. And if I to tell the story as best as I can, I will avoid stereotypes because my characters won’t be generalized people. My characters will be three-dimensional.

Q: How does being an Asian American affect the way you see the world? Do you think there is a difference in being Taiwanese American as opposed to another type of Asian ethnicity?

A: Being Asian American does affect the way I see the world especially growing up in Richmond, Virginia. I always wondered why people thought being Asian was like being white. I had someone say to me in high school that she always thought of Asians as being white. It was like there were the black people and then there were the white people and Asians were included in that category. I think that’s why a lot of the Asian kids I grew up with back home are white washed because they let themselves forget who they are. The way I grew up is going to be different than the way Asian Americans grow up in California, which is going to be different than the way they grow up in New York. We’re all people. We’re all different. I feel that my experience is going to be different than any other Asian American experience because we are not monolithic people.

Q: Is there anything else you’re involved in right now?

A: I work part-time at a club called Lucky Strike. I’m also working on a one-man show that I’m trying to get up eventually, called China Kid Blues. It’s about an Asian kid growing up in the Tenderloin of San Francisco, who is basically mentored by a black bluesman from the south. They form a father-son relationship. In many ways it’s a homage to my mentor, Mr. Sims. I think about him often.

Q: Please explain about your upcoming production.

A: My play Jupiter and Nebula, is going to be with “Elevator by Jason Fong and Peanuts by Judy Soo Hoo. My cast is only two people, Jared Asato and Andy Apuy. Every play is personal to me and this one is no different. It’s a love story about what people will do for love, and to what extent people will love. And why these two people, who seem to be complete opposites, love one another. What never changes in this world, I believe, is that we all want to be loved, and we want to give love to others. I’ve been trying hard to capture that in this play.

I dedicate it to my mom and dad. It’s my first production, so I’m dedicating it to them. They’ve been very supportive of me, and a lot of Asian American parents aren’t supportive of their children in the arts. I think a lot of Asian American have been brainwashed into thinking they need to be doctors and lawyers and make their eighty thousand dollars a years so they become afraid of following their own path. My parents don’t necessarily understand what I do, but they’ve definitely been supportive. They’re coming out from Virginia to see the production and they’re bringing a lot of their friends too. It’s the first time my mom is going to see my work.

I’m excited. I’m really nervous, but I think it’s going to be good, actually I think it’s going to be great.

Q: The play started out at UCLA?

A: This play had a reading at UCLA because I was a first-year graduate student in the playwriting program. The faculty and I agreed that the program wasn’t right for me. I was not getting the help I needed from my teacher and I felt cheated because I was paying for an education and not getting the attention that I needed. I raised hell because of that and the faculty got fed up with me. I’ve moved on since then. I’m on my own. I don’t think that I need them to affirm my talent. A piece of paper from that school doesn’t mean anything to me. I don’t think school defines who I am as a person. I know I have talent that is God given and I am going to keep using it to tell stories that are important to me.

Connie enjoys crème brûlée, international journalism, ba wan, Muppets, singing dogs, dancers' ugly feet/bunions and deathly chills from Chicago winds. This Sagittarius is currently a third year journalism student at Northwestern University, but hails originally from the "O.C:" Newport Beach, California, yo.