soukprida phetmisy

This past weekend we moved into our new home and into a new neighborhood that we’re looking forward to growing into and building community with. I’m wrestling with the complex feelings of becoming a home-owner and the imbalanced pride and ickiness that comes with home-ownership. I never thought I’d be here, for one. I am sitting with the immense privilege entangled in this moment—to have the means to be able to move freely and by my own choice. Not once in this move was I coerced or fleeing an untenable situation. I never once worried whether the new roof over my head could be bombed at any moment. My parents and older sisters left their first home after war. And now my timeline is full of images of bombed and displaced Pal🍉stinians, their homes turned to rubble and their bodies turned to ash. Decapitated babies. Elders burned alive. Things I will never be able to unsee. My body cannot seem to fullly metabolize the heartbreak, dissonance, and rage I feel. I was ready for this to be just a simple: “new home, new me” life-changing milestone post, but in truth, I have not been the same since Oct. 7. Scroll for an image dump of the places I’ll miss frequenting most in our last neighborhood.✌🏽 Free Palestine.

32 + 33, a retrospective: 1: Denver Botanical Gardens (33) 2: @jaaaaaaaake and @wilbusdumbledog propose. I wave at @arijmikati . (32) 3: I say, “omg wut yes??” (32) 4: Polaroids of my faves in Tucson. (33) 5: Joint bach-pool-party in Tucson. (33) 6: Cuties at The Robey. (33) 7: Wilbur hammin’ it up for summer. (32) 8: Obligatory ring photo. (32) 9: Twirling in Oaxaca. (33) 10: A year ago today, picnic in the park. (33) And at the end of this week, I get to marry @jaaaaaaaake surrounded by our mighty community. (🥹 more pics to come!) 34 is looking so, so good.🧡

Last week, my mom was telling me about how she and her siblings were on the phone talking about what happened in Atlanta. In the retelling of her story, she was laughing. She made mention of how they were cracking jokes about dyeing their hair something outrageous so they’d look less Asian. Through a side comment she said, “But we know they’ll always know.” Where I’ve raised my voice to be seen and heard, she’s trying to fall into the background. Invisibility as her survival. She told me to be careful when I leave my house. I told her I am more worried about her. On March 26, 1790, the Naturalization Act was signed into law, prohibiting non-white people from becoming citizens of the United States. Over 200 years later, Asians in the U.S. are still suffering from the effects of the racism our country was founded upon. Asian elders are being physically assaulted in the streets. Asian American children are afraid to go back to school (and 1 in 4 youth have reported being bullied). Asian women make up 70% of the 3,800 nationally reported anti-Asian incidents. And there are many more stories we may never hear. Join today’s #StopAsianHate National Day of Action and Healing. Swipe right to find actions you can take in solidarity. #StopAsianHate means ALL Asian hate, inclusive of Black Asians, Native and indigenous Asians, Latinx Asians, South Asians, Muslim Asians, West Asians, Brown Asians, dark skinned Asians, economically disadvantaged Asians, disabled Asians, undocumented Asians, our queer, trans and gender nonconforming Asians—All. Asian. Hate.

I am shattered by the tragic events in GA and the senseless violence that took 8 lives; 6 of them Asian women (majority Korean, while others have not yet been identified—or purposely invisibilized?) at their places of work—work that provides healing and care for others. (Always the caretakers and never taken care of.) I had my partner check the news for me because I couldn’t face it—anxious it might be one of my friends or a family member in Atlanta; heartbroken all the same regardless if I knew them personally, because I, in fact, do know them in many ways. I am enraged at the media’s lack of care and dignity given to the victims as this story unfolds. I feel a deep despair today and I don’t know what to do with all this grief... I have a memory of my mom carrying me on her back through a torrential downpour. Houston was in a flood warning. My legs were too small and the force of the water made it hard to move. Without hesitation, she put me on her back. I was in 1st grade. A memory of my grandmother holding me against her hip. I was sobbing over something that now isn’t even a memory. Her arms shielded me from harm; I always saw her for the giant she was to me then (and is now). I would not be where I am without the fierce love and protection of the Asian women in my life. Even if “the authorities” never explicitly call this a hate crime or headlines erase the identities of the victims without making the connection to the historical anti-Asian violence and misogyny Asian women have always experienced in this country, we unequivocally know. We cannot show up in solidarity to abolish patriarchal white supremacy and misogyny if we cannot name it for what it is and the nuances of who it impacts. What is wrong with our morality when we humanize a white supremacist who killed eight people and yet, can’t even spell the names of the victims correctly? If diagnosis determines treatment, then diagnose this as it truly is so we can treat the root and not a symptom. Every single Asian life is sacred. My heart is with the victims and their families. May we honor and uplift the full breadth of their lives. May our ancestors wrap them in love. #StopAsianHate

Appreciate the platform and opportunity to share voice on this. It was not an easy piece to write and by the end of it I was feeling all types of ways—many of the feels quite contradictory: a heaviness and exhaustion undergirded with lightness and energy. I have deep love and gratitude for all my friendtors out there who hold and lift me through it. Take a moment to read and share this piece and then take the actions. Big, big hearts to my friend Heather (@heytinybones ) who got a random text from me with this loose idea and turned it into this beautiful illustration 💛 . . . reposted from @aapitfa “It is not enough for aspiring allies and co-conspirators to say “we see you” and “we hear you” anymore. These words have to come with real solidarity and accountability. They must be backed with intentional actions to amplify our #AAPI community before one of our AAPI colleagues, friends, community members, or students has to add their voice to the cries for us to say and do something.” — Soukprida Phetmisy Yesterday, we published an op-ed by our very own @soukprida condemning the horrific surge of #AntiAsianRacism and violence, hate crimes, and xenophobia since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. In this piece, Soukprida also contextualizes this moment as part of a long history of AAPI folx being othered and invisibilized in the United States, and provides action items for aspiring allies and co-conspirators who want to show up in solidarity with the AAPI community. Swipe for highlights and check the link in our bio to read the full piece. Big love to Heather Aquino (@heytinybones ) for this beautiful illustration.

[image: a black and white photo of my mom, a Laotian woman. She is holding me, as a baby, and there is a quiet joy. The photo has a yellow frame around it that says #NextInLine, there is text on the photo that says “I inherited my tenderness + determination from my mom so I can leave behind communities of accountability, collective care & belonging; a world that chooses softness & empathy.”] Tenderness is underrated. Softness is underrated. Determination doesn’t have to manifest as hardness, it can also be tender. Growing up, I just felt so, so much. At times I couldn’t handle feeling the feels, because I was easily overwhelmed. My socialization taught me this was a sign of weakness. It’s not. My mom nurtured my tenderness in many ways—my favorite ways came in the form of cut permissions on a plate by my bed, warm khao piek sen for breakfast, moon drop grapes rinsed in vinegar, sliced mango where she always offered me the pit. Tenderness doesn’t always show up in the same way across cultures, but in mine it meant cut fruit imbued with so much love, forgiveness, intention. This taught me different ways to articulate the feels and thus, how to live into it—showing me just how powerful actions are. Tenderness became my strength. It helps me heal. It helps me love fiercely, feeds my drive toward building life-giving communities of care, and shows me how to bring a soft determination to all I do that may not be loud, but always true. [love to @rgayasaddin + @camelbackventures for this opportunity to reflect on this]

[image: a quote on white background from actor Steven Yeun that says, “Sometimes I wonder if the Asian American experience is what it’s like when you’re thinking about everyone else, but nobody else is thinking about you.”] This quote hit me like a brick wall. I felt seen. I felt sad. I felt exhausted. I wasn’t surprised when this quote made the rounds on my AsianAm group chats/listservs. So many of us resonated with it; we’ve been there—shown up for others and feeling some type of way about asking others to show up for us when we need it. I know I’ve been conditioned to NOT take up space and I struggle with this. I hold that truth as I share with you how my feeds have been flooded with stories and accounts of devastating anti-Asian violence. Just last week, an 84 year-old Thai American was murdered in SF. A 64 year-old Vietnamese grandmother was assaulted. A Filipino American was slashed across their face in Manhattan. A 19 year-old Chinese American teen experiencing a mental health emergency was shot and killed by police in PA. Not many folx outside of my AsianAm fam heard about these events. I surprised myself with how that realization landed. Is nobody else thinking about us? We are being spat on, harassed, stabbed, our elders being harmed, murdered—and the majority of outraged folx happen to look like me. The media? Isn’t covering it. I feel a heavy sadness as I add my voice to the chorus of cries for folx to denounce these violent racist attacks. I’m not asking for all of us to be perfect (I’m certainly not and neither is my community). I’m asking folx who care about me to show up for my people—differentiate your feeds, disrupt anti-Asian hate when it’s happening, please. For my AsianAm fam, I see our pain. And, I need us to remember that wh*te supremacy is our enemy and our calls for solidarity from across the aisle cannot include anti-Blackness; it cannot include more interventions from the carceral state. The same systems oppressing our Black and brown relatives will not save us. We are not here to disappear people. So check yourselves if you feel that pull and call upon our ancestors to remind you of our histories of solidarity.

Direct your funds here: 1: @blackvisionscollective 2: @reclaimtheblock 3: @believersbailout 4: @unicorn.riot 5: @mnfreedomfund * “Not interested in being Asian American unless it means fighting for Black Liberation.” - @poppyrepublic The Black Power movement affords me the freedoms I have today. Without it, there would be no political “Asian American” identity for me to claim. Often this history is obfuscated, but let me remind you: The end goal has always been liberation. Black Liberation IS my liberation. That is why it is my life’s work to abolish this system—one that sees a black body and says it holds zero value. Anti-Asian violence is inextricably linked to anti-Black violence. Learn the history. As a non-Black POC, I perpetuate anti-blackness, white supremacy, and settler colonialist ideation when I’m not actively choosing to be anti-racist. And even when I am trying to be, because these biases run so deep, I have no doubt it will happen if I’m not vigilant with myself. I will mess up. But the fear of messing up is not a reason to not try. For the 30 years of my life here, I’ve soaked in the messages all around me about how much we care about Black bodies and Black lives. So it’s going to take a lot more work on my end to unlearn it. Being actively anti-racist means I have to interrogate these messages; it means I call it out and disrupt it when I see it happening; it means I call in my own people every time. It means I open myself up to be checked when necessary, so I can keep doing better. This uprising didn’t happen overnight. It is no longer enough to just be non-racist, we have to actively choose to be anti-racist (thank you, Angela Davis). Listen and learn from Black and Native and Indigenous voices. Uplift them, center them, and do NOT ask them to do the lifting for you. Do the work on yourself. Do the work in your families, with your kids especially. I do not want to imagine what would become of my Black friends and family if you do not, but that’s what’s at stake here. Thank you @kalamendoza for creating these beautiful posters for me & for all you do. #justiceforgeorgefloyd #blacklivesmatter #asiansforblacklives #khonlaoforblacklives

This photo is from 2014. That’s me in the yellow beanie, but if we weren’t physically distancing it’d be me today and every day until Black folx stop getting murdered for just being Black. My heart breaks knowing how long ago this photo was and yet, how little we’ve done to be better. As an Asian American, I could easily turn another cheek. I could fall into the shadows of my privilege and decide to stay silent. Like many of my community, I could put my head down and choose the side of the oppressor — as their wedge. But I won’t. I can’t. We can’t. The Black community has paved the way for us to come into our own consciousness as AANHPI folx — for us to even be able to be at some of the tables we are at today in policy, in advocacy, in education, in every institution. It is on us to recognize that our struggles and our liberation is bound. Anti-Blackness is a pervasive disease in every community, but ESPECIALLY with my own community. This is a call in to my AANHPI family: We can’t be the wedge. We have to own our anti-Blackness and we must actively work against it - dismantling it as much as we can. It will continue to creep up because white supremacy has taught us well. We cannot be selective when it comes to our solidarity. If you’re an AANHPI person reading this right now, don’t stay silent. We don’t have to be Black to know this is fucked up. If you want the same solidarity when anti-Asian racism and xenophobia hits you, but you don’t show up for other communities when they’re being targeted, then that’s a problem. A huge problem. Let’s not make our solidarity lukewarm or conditional anymore. We have to stop choosing to side with white supremacy when it’s hard. Dismantling racism is not meant to be easy. #ahmaudarbery #irunwithmaud #asiansforblacklives #blacklivesmatter

Happy Asian Pacific American Heritage Month, fam! 🥰 While Asian American, Native Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander (#AANHPI) history is a part of (and should be celebrated) every single month, this moment in time feels particularly poignant as I’ve been reflecting on what it means to be proud of my identity–having been made more acutely aware of it these days in the midst of the pandemic. What continues to ground me and give me life are the faces of my mom and dad (via FaceTime, mostly), whose humble beginnings in this country set the stage for me to be who I am today: an unapologetic Lao American; a proud daughter, sister, and granddaughter of Laotian and Vietnamese refugees; a too-loud auntie. And someone who learned and deeply internalized a strong sense of resilience. This May, as the COVID-19 pandemic continues to push our Pacific Islander communities further into the margins, where many of our undocumented community are still omitted from national resources, and instances of anti-Asian sentiment, bullying, and xenophobia are on the rise, it is a time where community is just as important as ever—where joy and resilience become defiant acts of resistance. Join me in celebrating, amplifying and honoring generations of stories reflecting that joy and resilience all month long. I’ll be highlighting badass AANHPI folx who I admire, have learned from, and hold enduring gratitude for—starting with my family, who constantly have me laughing and glowing with pride (swipe). 💛 Coincidently, it’s also #memademay and we’re allowed to be multifaceted. If y’all have followed my #handmadewardrobe journey, you’ll know I’ve been trying to transition into a majority #memade closet over the last few years, stop my consumption of #fastfashion, and be more mindful of the source of my clothing. So here’s my #monochromatic 👋🏽 hello! The mask is a self-drafted made by me (read many tutorials online) and pants are @annaallenclothing ’s #pomonapants in all their wrinkly glory in linen. #apahm2020 #aanhpitfa #memademay2020 #beigeaesthetic #🇱🇦

Something I’ve been trying to do more of these days (esp. while social distancing) is get back into the rhythm of making things with my hands. Sewing has always been a form of self-care for me and I have been trying to practice that more often. Self-care and rest is esp. critical right now in the wake of #covıd19 and heightened anti-Asian rhetoric and violence. It has been personally impacting my well-being in many ways, mostly not the good ones. To say the least, it has been sucking a lot of life out of me. Finding small moments of joy in my communities have helped and my maker community has been another source of this joy. So, yay me. I made something! Super excited to share these #pomonapants with all of you. I feel really lucky to have gotten a chance to test another pattern for @annaallenclothing . Her attention-to-detail and design aesthetics are golden. These pants come in a wide leg, tapered leg, and shorts option and the ones I made are wide leg and linen (aka #secretpajamas). I sewed them up in a weekend and felt very proud. (Don’t worry, I absolutely practiced social distancing when taking this photo.) The elastic waist is clutch and the pattern comes in sizes 00-22. I used size 16 as the base, graded up to an 18ish in the hips and butt, and shortened these by 5.5in (I’m 5’1”). When I make my next pair, I’m thinking of starting with a smaller size and still grading up to an 18 in the hips/butt, because they’re feeling a little proportionally too wide for my legs. I highly recommend for beginners who haven’t made pants yet and want to try. Thank you again for the opportunity, Anna! #annaallenclothing #patterntesting #handmadewardrobe #linenpants #sewing #makersofcolor

“All this time I told myself we were born from war—but I was wrong, Ma. We were born from beauty. Let no one mistake us for the fruit of violence—but that violence, having passed through the fruit, failed to spoil it.”- Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous Last Friday, I was sitting on the ground of my hotel room in Oakland’s Chinatown surrounded by my friends. We were having a casual hang as we settled into the second day of our #aanhpicmsummit. I caught a tender mood, opened up @ocean_vuong ’s On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous (without any context), and proceeded to read to them five paragraphs of something that touched me. They graciously listened. Like, truly listened. Moments, as small as this, show me how friends become family, and how family reminds you to do you, however socially awkward (earnest?) it is in the moment. This past weekend I watched months of work turn into an incredible convening of Asian, Native Hawaiian, Pacific Islander, Arab, Middle Eastern, Muslim, and South Asian American educators, advocates, community leaders, organizers, and more, committed to learning, reflecting, fellowshipping, and storytelling—all for the good of students, families and communities. We pushed ourselves to bring our stories and voices to the forefront and to lead from a place of deep gratitude for the ancestors whom came before us. We held up mirrors to ourselves and asked “Who Will We Be?” as descendants—as future ancestors. It feels humbling to have co-chaired this summit for the second time, and doing so alongside the powerful @aapitfa community, many of whom have become family and co-conspirators in the work toward our collective liberation. This weekend reminded me how representation is critical—how it matters that we understand our past and what ties us to one another. How important it is to see leaders who look like us leading the fight. I know how sacred it is to convene this kind of space, since not too long ago spaces that look like this were feared and unlawful. Looking at where we are now I’m just touched and thankful. (continued in comments)