As a Queerean femmeby (queer+Korean & femme+non-binary person) and the
child of immigrants, I consistently fnd myself engaging with the idea of “others” — by people who exist outside of dominant culture, who have traditionally had less access to power. How does being the “other” shape our experiences? How do we overcome societal structures, and in doing so, fnd power – especially when we have little to begin with, or have had it taken away? How do we as “minorities” survive, and then thrive?
Earlier in my playwrighting career, I found myself writing in a way that was impacted by a white supremacist perspective – either erasing or neglecting aspects of my characters' identities so as to make them colorless, or exclusively writing white characters. As I came to realize how impactful it was to experience work by other queer, femme, and/or BIPOC theater artists, I began to see the importance of telling stories that refected those of the communities that I belonged to. And these days, I draw deeply from the well of my own experiences to present stories that not only give voice to my communities, but also provide opportunities for shared joy and empowerment.
At my core, I believe that stories have power. I believe in theater's capacity to become a tool for social change, and for me, there is a sense of reclaiming whenever I write from my own perspective. Whether they are the stories we tell ourselves to fnd healing and refocus ourselves as heroes, rather than victims, or conversely, whether they are the stories that trap us in the prisons of our own minds—stories, to me, are written in the language of power. We create our own worlds, and our own imaginations are the limit.
In theater, as in life, there is a growing push towards a more diverse and affrmative theatre that truly represents the fabric of American life. With every word I write, I hope to be a part of this movement.