The first time I met Tia was at a Halloween party at which she was dressed as a Space Cat (exactly as it sounds). We’ve become closer friends over the last few months, and every time I’m with her I feel so fortunate to be able to take part in her kindness, warmth, depth, and passion. She’s a writer-poet, makes damn good fried rice, and she’s not afraid to tell it like it is. We hung out at Tia’s apartment in Gramercy to talk about Asianness, the 2016 presidential election, her family, and poetry. (Note: this interview was conducted on November 10th, 2 days after the election.) -Elaine

How would you describe your identity as an Asian person?

That’s a big question. Very literally, I am half-Japanese and a quarter Filipino and a quarter white. I was raised a lot more Japanese. I grew up in Colorado, which is a very white state. It’s hard for me to identify culturally as anything besides white American, because I grew up in white America. But I was raised Buddhist, I went to a Japanese Buddhist church, and all of my mom’s family lives in Colorado, so I did have a lot more Japanese culture than Filipino culture, especially because my dad’s side of the family lives in Alaska and Hawaii, so I never see them, and I don’t know if he shares the culture. But it was never present in my life. So I was just Japanese in my childhood. And there was a transition where I was very conscious of how white Colorado was, and then I was like, no, I am white.

How old do you think you were when you realized that?

I think it was when I went to private school, because I went to public school until 5th grade. So 6th grade, I started at a private school, and everyone was white. And rich. So it seemed like the prettier and richer you were, the more popular you were. So it really gave me this complex. I feel like everyone knows that–if you’re pretty and white, you have it set. Especially in high school. And middle school.

I think it was different in elementary school because my best friend growing up was Korean. But we went to different schools in middle and high school, so I didn’t have her anymore. So once I lost that, it was me being very self-aware that I was looked at differently. I can’t remember one moment in elementary school where my race became in the picture ever. It was definitely as soon as I changed schools. It was the first thing people noticed and the first thing they talked about.

What would they say?

A lot of jokes. One really stuck in my mind because one of my best friends said it. It’s, how do you blind an Asian person? And then you say, with floss. Just shit like that. I was the token Asian. In high school, it changed to these microaggressions, like, you’re so pretty for an Asian person. Like fuck you. I hope those people realize that they fucking suck. I’m sorry, that was really aggressive. I’m just very bitter…that gave me a huge self-esteem complex.

And insecurity…

Yeah. And I feel like my brother got it even worse, because he just physically looks more Asian than me. So people would always be like, are your eyes closed? Or, whatever, open your eyes. That’s a thing. I just don’t understand that. It’s this weird thing when you’re comparing your body to someone else’s, and your body is worse than mine. There’s something different about you and it’s worse.

“The conversation always seems to be with a black person talking about their blackness, which I think is very beautiful and I think talking about that is its own entity, but I feel like there needs to be a separate one for talking about Asianness ‘cause I feel like it’s one of those things that’s not talked about, ever.”

How do you think you changed now from growing up in that environment? Where are you at now?

It was different coming here because for the first time, I would be in a room and I wouldn’t be the only non-White person. It was very, very different and very refreshing. I remember the amount of Asian people living on my floor freshman year and it was amazing. It was never like, oh there are a lot of Asian people here. It was just the norm. People just weren’t acknowledging it anymore, where I felt in high school people were always acknowledging it.

I feel like I’ve become a lot angrier recently. Now it’s starting to manifest itself in my poetry. Where I feel like all of my poems now have to be about my body and being Asian. Because those two things seem very connected.

Did you write poetry in high school?

(laughs) I very very casually wrote poetry in high school, but it started after I graduated high school, the summer before freshman year because my boyfriend at the time, his family moved to Austin, so I was just really sad and he really loved poetry and he was getting me into poetry so it seemed like an intimate way of expressing how much I missed him. Poetry was his thing. And so my way of communicating with him was through that. That’s how I started writing poetry. For a boy. (laughs) And then I took a creative writing class, and it was the best thing ever.

How do you see yourself as a creative in terms of what kind of art you make? Do you see yourself as an artist or a poet or writer, or…?

I identify as a poet, though I feel like lately I need to broaden it to writer because I feel like I’ve been very interested in the nonfiction genre and I really want to get more into that. Because I feel like it does relate to the whole race thing where you can write a lot of really good nonfiction because recently, especially in slam, there have been a lot more poets who talk about race. Because historically, poetry is white males. Like, everyone we studied in high school was white men and then Emily Dickinson. There’s one female poet in the world, and her name is Emily Dickinson, and she uses dashes.

I got really into studying women poets when I started college because someone told me that I didn’t study enough women poetry and that’s dumb because I’m a woman and I was like, you’re right. I feel like I don’t watch a lot of slam, but what I do watch is a lot about race. But the conversation always seems to be with a black person talking about their blackness, which I think is very beautiful and I think talking about that is its own entity, but I feel like there needs to be a separate one for talking about Asianness ‘cause I feel like it’s one of those things that’s not talked about, ever. I feel like part of it is, you look at the demographics for voting and it was like white people, black people, and Latino people.

All the articles too, it’s always talking about which group to appeal to and it’s always white, black, Latino.

Yeah, it’s like, where are we? It doesn’t make sense since there’s such a large population of Asian people in this country, especially on the west coast. And there are a lot of Asian people in New York. It feels like we, in certain aspects, are noticed but at the same time in a bad way. People look at you and they need to acknowledge your race and they think it’s something they’re allowed to do.

“It feels like we, in certain aspects, are noticed but at the same time in a bad way. People look at you and they need to acknowledge your race and they think it’s something they’re allowed to do.”

Whereas, you would never look at a black person and acknowledge their race. Like in this country we learned that that’s something you can’t do, but we can be racist towards an Asian person or make a crude joke about Asian people and it’s fine.

So would you view how your incorporate your background into your poetry as an obligation, or is that something that happens naturally?

It started as something that I had always wanted to do and I never knew how to do it. And I don’t think I fully accomplished it until I wrote this one poem that was about my mom, because I couldn’t talk about my mom without talking about being Asian and my body. It’s about my mom, my racial identity, it’s about sexuality and my body. And I felt like that was the first time I could really talk about it. And now it kinda feels like it’s my obligation to talk more about it. I never had something like that before.

Like, there’s one Asian poet who’s pretty well known. Her name is Cathy Park Hong, but she doesn’t really write about identity. It’s not like confessional poetry where it’s about herself. And there’s also Kimiko Hahn, who’s also an Asian poet but she doesn’t really write about Asian identity so I feel like it’s something that needs to be talked about, especially in poetry.

How has this election affected you personally?

When I go on Facebook now, everyone is very liberal, partially because I do unfriend people who are Trump supporters. I know it might be immature, I’m aware I can’t just shut people out because I don’t agree with them, and I’m aware it’s not doing anyone any good to just hate people who voted for Trump, but where I am currently is exactly that. I feel so much anger and so much hurt that people out there just turned a blind eye to the things that Trump said about women, people of color, Muslims. You are participating in racism and sexism by voting for Trump. And I don’t care if you voted for Trump for other reasons, but the fact that you could condone language that Trump has used, I cannot forgive you.

I’m just angry. And I don’t want to forgive people. I just want to yell. I just want to like, fucking yell at people. And just say ‘fuck you’ to their faces. I’m writing a poem right now that’s based off of Allen Ginsberg’s “America” and it’s a lot of anger. And it’s a lot of really aggressive language. But that’s just how I feel right now. If you aren’t concerned with this election, if you have gotten over it after a day, then I think you are part of the problem. You need to feel that anger towards the racism and towards the sexism.

I feel like I’m very upset at a lot of people I’m very close with because they haven’t had the same reaction as me. Like, my family. I’m gonna write them a strong worded email. I love them so much and they’re amazing people but I do feel this very strong resentment towards them right now.

I think that’s even harder, when people you love and who you thought loved and cared about you support this kind of rhetoric and this kind of hate speech.

I had this conversation with my dad, who’s a Republican, before the election. I saw him right after the video of Trump came out saying “grab them by the pussy.” And I was like, I am at this perfect age where I am young but an adult. You can’t control what happens to me anymore, and you can’t control these external forces. How does that make you feel that you’ve raised a daughter in this world where a man can say something so suggestive and he could’ve said that towards me? How can you not be absolutely disgusted by that? It felt like my dad did not respect who I was or my body.

Have you talked to your parents since the election?

They were like, this just seems like a big deal because this was your first election that you voted it. And it was like, no, you don’t understand what this is going to do to our culture and our country. It’s hard because they were both born in the sixties–they both grew up in a time that was very sexist and racist. And that was just the norm. And then it got better. But for me, we have progressed so much from that time.

And then just Mike Pence. Which is the worst part, everyone’s like impeach Donald Trump! But if you impeach him, Mike Pence is president. And it sucks that a lot of people out there have been signing petitions that are like, make Hillary the president! But I just feel like that’s giving people such false hope, you know? I just don’t think it’ll happen.

I want to go to D.C. to protest his inauguration, and I asked one of my NYU friends if he would want to go with me and he was like, I don’t think that’s the answer. Democracy will fix everything. Which just like…no! Democracy got us into this problem. If you don’t wanna protest, that’s not your thing, I don’t give a shit, that’s fine, I understand that some people don’t want to protest. And I don’t think lesser of them if they don’t, but if your excuse is democracy will fix it, I just…no. I don’t respect that opinion. It just sounds like a copout. Like someone who doesn’t want to take action, like someone who just wants to passively sit there. And let the world slowly burn.

How do you feel about how people are going back to life as usual and how we can heal from this in a way that’s not just kind of sidestepping it and getting over it?

I don’t understand how people on the second day are fine. It’s still very much on my mind, every new person I see, we need to just look each other in the eye and acknowledge that we’re both hurting. We were talking about this with our classmates, and one of them was saying that he thinks a really incredible counterculture movement will arise from this, and I completely agree with him.

Just talking about it with my friends who are people who share the same views as me is not going to do anything, but I feel like trying to channel this energy and put it into my poetry, I think that will do something else. Just because there is something very public about writing poetry. And poetry has been very political historically.

Do you think all art is political?

Yes. Because it’s always subverting some kind of rule, or some kind of movement. Every movement is subverting what the movement before them did. Even if it’s just language. There’s this one book that’s written and it doesn’t use the vowel E. That is even political. Because that restriction, that really tight restriction it’s putting on itself, it’s subverting some kind of language norm.

“I think our anger is how we relate. Our anger, and our passion. The way we speak. I feel like we’re both really aggressive speakers. We’re very loud sometimes. And we like to provoke people.”

What do you think it is about poetry that makes it so powerful?

Its length. I feel like if you can say something as short as you can, there is just something that makes it stronger. Just succinctly saying something. [Elaine: The denseness of the words.] Yeah. And poetry is extremely intentional because it’s so short. Every word is there for a reason. So I think that also gives it its strength. You know every word is doing work. Whereas in a novel it’s more about the grander picture. But in poetry, it’s the grander picture, it’s the sentence, it’s the word, it’s the punctuation.

Who are the people you look up to in poetry? Do you have any particular influences, or people you know in person?

It changes on the day. I really do love my current teacher, Rachel Zucker. I read her first before I ever met her. And I love her style. She’s a great writer. She’s a very outspoken feminist. I think she’s a doula. She has this one video of her giving a water birth, like literally birthing her son. And se’s just like, I know this is propaganda, this has millions of views, like, she’s aware that she’s vocal, she’s always telling us, fuck the institution, fuck NYU.

Allen Ginsberg. I’ve always really loved Allen Ginsberg. I’ve loved him since high school. And that whole beat generation. There’s something very romantic about it all. Even though they were all just fucked up all the time.

I have one friend, Ahmed. I stole a writing style from him. He uses the ampersand all the time. So I feel like, ever since I read his poetry I only use ampersands.

My mom is my idol. But she doesn’t write.

In what way is she your idol?

My mom is like me, but she’s a lot more compassionate. Her impulse is just to love and care for people, where I feel like sometimes my impulse is just to hate people. But my mom would never do that. She’s a very generous person. Morally, she’s just perfect.

What kind of political change or message are you trying to create or get across with your work?

I feel like right now, I’m at this stage where I want to normalize the body. Not just seeing someone naked, I feel like that’s to an extent being normalized right now, especially with visual art. But the functions of the body. Just the things that you’re embarrassed to talk about. You talk about sex, but you don’t talk about masturbation. Stuff like that. I just feel like, there’s certain things that everyone does. And no one wants to talk about it. And there’s this weird shame with your body and I felt a lot of shame with my body growing up.

Even just like going back to the Asianness thing. Shame about having Asian features. I feel like a lot of things I write now are just a lot of things about the body. It’s easier for me to talk about the body than it is to talk about being Asian. I think because just talking about being Asian is a lot more literal, whereas the body can be a lot more metaphorical. So I’m just trying to figure out a way in which to talk about it.

I’m really trying to find a way to talk about mental disorders as well because I’m bipolar, so it’s something that I really want to talk about, but it’s difficult to talk about, especially because there is such a stigma around it. I guess those are the things I want to talk about, because I feel like they’re the things I need to talk about. Because before I feel like all my poetry was just about, I am sad! I love a boy! (laughs) You know? And that’s just boring. [Elaine: And it’s not who you are. Or like, it’s only one part of you.] Yeah, and when you talk about yourself it’s like, completely unrelatable but still relatable. You’re creating such a perfect portrait of yourself that’s so idiosyncratic but people can still relate to it. That is what I’m interested in. Not a lot of people are bipolar but there are a lot of people out there who have depression or have some kind of anxiety and just talking about mental illness more openly, they can relate to it. The shame of having that or the secrecy behind it, I don’t know.

You’ve told me before that you always like to talk about your feelings, and you like being very open with everything.

I love talking about my feelings. I love talking about myself. Not in like a bragging way, but…

I’m a very honest person. I’m the worst liar. Because I can’t lie with my face. So I just don’t lie because of that. So I just talk very openly. Because I think it’s interesting if you just respond honestly towards something, and you’ll always have something new to say if you just look at something and you’re like, this makes me think of this. I feel like that’s my best poetry, where I react so honestly and almost impulsively. Like this is my first thought, and this is a genuine thought. I don’t like to bottle things up, because when I bottle things up I just get very quiet and kind of implode, and that’s not healthy. I guess the way I talk very much relates to my poetry.

How do you see that you fit into an Asian community? Or do you, at all?

I did when I was little when I went to a Buddhist temple. I went through this phase where I was like, I don’t want to go anymore, it just makes me more different, and then I went through this other phase where I got super into religion and I was like, everyone is just like, here to socialize. I mean, it was a community, and that’s why people went, it was something they were raised with, whereas my point of view was much more objective and it was like you can only go here if you believe and practice in what you learn.

So I guess what I mean, other people who were raised Buddhist I do feel a community with them, I feel like there’s nothing at NYU where I’m like, yes, this is my Asian community. I guess I do have Asian friends and I guess that can be my community, but there’s nothing structured.

Do you wish you had that kind of structure?

I do. I don’t know. I feel like it has to go back to shame again. I was ashamed of having an Asian community growing up.

Even if we’re not talking about race, it would just be nice to sit in a room where everyone’s Asian and it’s fine, no one’s talking about it.

How have your parents responded to your poetry? Are they supportive of it?

They’re very supportive of it. I’ve shared one poem with my mom. And it was about her family. And about her culture. My mom is such a wonderful person. She’s such a softie. Everything I say to her just makes her cry. She’s always just like, Tia, you’re so sweet! And I’m like, thank you, I know. (Laughs) Yeah. So I shared that with her and she was like, this was so beautiful, I cried!

But a lot of my poetry is, part of me thinks that my parents won’t understand because I feel like you need to have a certain way of reading to read poetry. So part of me feels like if I ever shared my poetry with my parents they’d never understand…and then the more explicit poetry I write is just like, I don’t want you to read this, where I’m talking about like, sex or my body or me being naked, makes it uncomfortable. They’ve obviously seen me naked before…but it’s in a different way. There is a self-consciousness when it comes to my parents. But they are supportive of me just because they know what really makes me happy and that’s important to them.

On the flip side of how do you fit into an Asian community, how do you think you fit into the poet or writing community or artist community?

I don’t know. That’s hard. I’m just thinking back to my creative writing class on Wednesday–it was 9:30 in the morning so it was the first thing we did that day after we learned about the election. And I just like to think of the artistic temperament. Everyone was crying and silent and refusing to speak. I feel like there’s certain kind of way of carrying yourself when you think that your words carry more weight almost, like you just think what you have to say is more important so when you’re silent you feel like your silence is more important. At least that’s what it felt like in that class.

But I guess more largely I guess I feel like I fit into a poet community because I feel like I have an agenda. And I feel like every poet has an agenda. Just a kind of love. I feel like every poet feels a lot of love and sees a lot of beauty. And I don’t know a lot of poets. I have one friend, I work with her, and she’s going to grad school for poetry so there’s an establishment around her and I’m trying to think of what we have in common. Our anger. I think our anger is how we relate. Our anger, and our passion. The way we speak. I feel like we’re both really aggressive speakers. We’re very loud sometimes. And we like to provoke people.

My friends in high school always say that I have no volume control. [Elaine: My mom says that about me. She’s like, we’re in public, you need to lower your voice.] I remember in choir in high school, people would always be like, Tia, you don’t understand how loud you are when you sing. You need to be more self-aware.

Read Tia’s poem “Yellow Child” here.

Interview by Elaine Lo and Amy Ni