In the process of making the films, Neuman relied on a way of thinking that she calls a “mixtape aesthetic.”
In My Day is born of an oral history research project from the University of Victoria, called HIV In My Day.
I had just put down the phone with my mother and was staring at the paper in my hand with a recipe scribbled on it — my favourite potato curry.
Here are some recommendations, from holiday markets to support local artists to UBC's own polar plunge.
On April 5, the Asian Canadian and Asian Migration (ACAM) department invited Jamie Liew and Lindsay Wong, two female Asian Canadian writers, to a reading and discussion at the UBC Arts Student Centre.
As an Asian living in a time plagued with anti-Asian hate, I find my emotions heightened.
Being Asian, to me, means knowing at the end of the day that the whole community is there for each other, ready to face the good and the bad side by side.
Do not mispronounce it. I do not want to correct you twice.
I can't see myself in the signal's static. I speak but I only hear your cadence. :// Bàba, how do you say this word in Chinese?
I wish I could tell myself these answers, but identity, no matter what it’s based on is always constructed and deconstructed. Built-up and destroyed.
I hardly knew some of the people there yet it was, in some comforting, familiar way, its own family meal.
You will watch and read content from cultural icons of my time. You will gain a balanced appreciation for the arts to complement your university application and become inspired by the wits of Ali Wong, David Chang and Awkwafina.
Behind my face mask, I felt tomato bits stuck in my mouth. But I couldn’t let anybody know they were there. I had to prove myself through the fluency of my English that I was from here just like everyone else. That I was not the other.
After being in Vancouver for so long, I find myself struggling to tell my mother about my day in Chinese, bogged down by English jargon and unable to explain my studies to my grandmother and giving up on reading Chinese altogether.
The grocery store can’t replace my parents’ cooking or my brother’s sarcasm or my family’s love, but I guess it’s good enough for now.
As the days passed, it became increasingly apparent that we as Asian-Canadians did not belong. I was sporting a Korean-inspired fringe at the time, which seemed to warrant additional attention such as textbook ‘are you from China?’ racial comments.
Celebrating our culture and history here in Canada and around the world also means celebrating the content and creators who help us to understand ourselves and share our experiences with one another.
The TV was running, but I opted for the window, self-centred songstress, monsoon sister.