A weekly magazine-style radio show featuring the voices and stories of Asians and Pacific Islanders from all corners of our community. The show is produced by a collective of media makers, deejays, and activists.
Resources:
- Lavender Phoenix: website | instagram
- QTViet Cafe: website | instagram
- Mugworts Queer Cabin: website
- Underpainting Collective: instagram
- Aetelier Collective / Suncha: instagram | spotify | show on march 30 in Newark, CA
- Minjoona Music instagram | spotify
Transcript:
Cheryl Truong (she/they): Good evening and welcome to tonight’s episode of apex express. I’m your host, Cheryl Truong and tonight show is in honor of Trans Day of Visibility, but we’re not just here to talk about visibility in that surface level way get sometimes framed as a political strategy. We’re here to hold the fullness of trans life, the rage, the fear, the grief, and the joy, the power and the brilliance. Across the nation, a storm of hostility is being unleashed against the LGBTQ plus community.
In 2024 alone, 617 anti-trans bills were introduced. Making it the fifth consecutive record breaking year for legislation targeting trans rights. This year, that number has already climbed to 796 bills. This is horrifying. Yes. But even in the face of all of this, Our trans and queer community have never stopped living have never stopped dreaming. Have never stopped building futures from the margins.
And so I hope tonight as much as it is important to stay rooted and grounded in our political reality that is having very real, very immediate consequences on our trans and queer and gender expansive community. We also want to center trans joy because trans joy is not a distraction.
It is a strategy, a survival skill, and a source of power. So we’re gathering in that spirit of resistance, remembrance, and radical joy tonight. And I’m honored to be joined by some incredible guests whose lives and work, reflect that very spirit. First we have Jean and Hải from QTViệt Cafe a creative cultural hub, dedicated to queer trans (QT Viet) liberation through ancestral practices, the arts and intergenerational connection. And we’re also joined by eri oura from Lavender Phoenix, also known as LavNix, an organization that builds trans non-binary and queer API power in the bay area. Thank you all so much for being here. To start us off can you all introduce yourselves so that our listeners can connect your voices to names?
Hải Võ: Yeah, thanks Cheryl. Chào mọi người My name is Hải. And I am a member of Asian Refugees United, QTViệt Cafe Collective. And, yeah, thanks so much for having me.
Jean Phạm (they/them): Hey, I’m Jean. I use they/them pronouns and I also organize with Hải at QTViệt Cafe Collective.
I’m also a part of a newly formed art collective called Under Painting Collective. We’re taking over an art school. We teach oil painting and charcoal drawing. Thanks for inviting us to be here, Cheryl.
eri oura (they/them): Hey, thanks Cheryl for having us. I’m eri. I am part of LavNix I am also part of Mugworts, a queer, and trans BIPOC centered cabin out in Greenville. , and I’m excited to be here.
Cheryl Truong (she/they): Before we begin, I want to offer a logistical note. For our listeners if you were interested in any of the organizations that were mentioned, and it will be mentioned throughout the show
such as Mugwort and Lavender Phoenix, which eri mentioned. Or QTViệt Cafe mentioned by Hải and Jean, and of course the Underpainting collective you could find their socials in the show notes on our website, kpfa.org/programs/apex-express.
Okay. Transition. I want to start with a question that is intentionally spacious. What is on your heart right now as a trans person moving through the world. Hải, do you want to start us off?
Hải Võ: Hmm.
Yeah chia buồn That’s the phrase that comes up for me. I just share in sadness. Usually that’s a phrase to describe when someone passes in the Việt community. The way that I hear about how folks in our community are experiencing job insecurity, housing insecurity, being arrested, detained, deported. My days and my hearts are just broken. My heart has gone in many cycles of heartbreak over my whole life, as a queer person, as a trans, femme person. It isn’t to say that this is anything new or that I haven’t been in practice to mend my heart. This is just a incredibly heightened time. It’s starting to not just hurt my heart, but also I feel it viscerally. It’s much more tangible. We’re talking about our lives, each other’s lives. And so yeah, my heart is breaking.
I feel the frustration and the anger and the more frequent, heightened fear. But to be honest with you, our ancestors have equipped us for this moment. And I think there are reasons why, this moment exists. This is the reason why we started QTViệt Cafe, why Asian Refugees United is here because we know that we’re trying to restore our wholeness, not just as trans folks, as queer folks, but just as people from a history of violence, trauma, and displacement. This isn’t the first time that all those things have come around. Our ancestors have faced these maybe in different contexts and maybe in our homelands more so. And while I have that frustration and that anger, the frequency is heightened, I feel steadfast and I feel more able to mend my heart and able to hold and mend other people’s hearts in this moment because we’ve been at this for so long. QTViệt
Cafe, we’re gonna be celebrating nine years this summer. So I just got chills because I, I think I, um, I have to like, hold myself in comfort for myself right now because, I mean, when I came out, to myself in my teen year or I knew I was queer and trans from a really young age.
I could see who I was, but I didn’t necessarily feel like it was who I truly was. And so I grew up in a world where I was living different realities or wanting a different reality from actually how I was. I’m getting chills because when I came out, I started coming out to friends and families in my late teens and early twenties, and then ultimately to my parents when I was 23. I didn’t know I would be able to live this long. I didn’t know I would be able to meet other queer and trans Viet people, other queer and trans folks of color or other queer and trans people in general. Couple that with like a food system that I’ve been in food for so long, , for almost 15 years. And so, trying to nourish. Queer justice is connected to all other forms of justice. I’ve been at land and food justice work for a long time. And so, what I was seeing with what was happening to me and our queer and trans kin, the injustices happening in our community, I was seeing also that with cultural injustice in Vietnam to the Vietnamese community here, and then ultimately to the food system here in the US. So it was all connected. I am both surprised and also really proud that I’m still here and the most comfortable and thriving I am in my skin.
Healing as a trans and queer person, I can only go so much. I can only heal so much on my own. The healing and the fight for liberation and freedom as queer and trans people happens so much more exponentially when done together.
And so, I’m just so proud of us for all the years of connecting with each other, getting to know each other, building friendship, relationships, and fighting for the future that we want. I’ll be turning in Viet age, I’ll be turning 40 next year. My doctor, when I was young and had type two diabetes said that I’ll only live to be 30. And so I’ve surpassed that. I’m excited for what magic we as queer and trans people continue to make, and what’s the fights that we will continue to have and ultimately the unprecedented and insurmountable victories and wins that we’ll have as a queer and trans community. ’cause we’ve been doing that forever and in this moment I wanna organize, I wanna help mend and heal our hearts and our minds so that we can really be able to like galvanize, organize, and create the practices and policies and futures that we actually want in the world, which we’ve been doing forever. I also think that it’s an important time right now to be really clear about what we need, to be really clear about what we want and gather in ways that we may not have gathered before. I see joy and health as part of struggle and freedom in liberation and organizing. And so, I’ll check there.
eri oura (they/them): That was so beautifully said Hải. Thank you for naming the resilience and the fight that queer and trans folks have had to exude to continue to exist. For me it has also been really difficult to see and witness the struggle that our folks are experiencing right now.
It’s really something to kind of trust in the state to hold our identities in a way that I don’t think the state ever really knew how to. I was reminded on a group coaching call with other trans folks, that trans folks have lived in the underground for most of time.
And that reminder really just made me feel we don’t need validation from these entities, you know? That’s never what has fulfilled our existence. It’s actually our joy. It’s actually our healing, our ability to not get bulldozed by waves of hate and transphobia. Queerphobia. It’s really important for us to remember that and remind young folks that truth even though there has been this chunk of time, maybe like the last decade or so, where our gender identities get acknowledged by the state, but that’s not where our validation comes from. We really need to not depend on these institutions. We take care of us. What I have been witnessing more is mutual aid being used as a way for our people to keep going. Honestly, I have never in my life gotten so many mutual aid requests as I have in the last few months which speaks to the heightened security and safety issues that our folks are experiencing in the queer and trans community. But also it’s a sign that people are leaning into being courageous and asking for help, which is not an easy thing to do. It’s not easy to ask for the help that we need. I think it’s really important for us to remember that we’re not alone. There are more than a billion people in this world I think I was also feeling overwhelmed by how much support folks were asking of me and I’ve had to say some grounded nos. And that kind of broke my heart honestly, to have to say no to a really courageous ask for support. My friend and coworker reminded me that there are so many other people in this world and we need to be able to share the the work of supporting each other to exist.
Jean Phạm (they/them): Mm-hmm. Wow, that’s beautiful. I’m loathed to go last. the first thing I think about is recently, one of the youth that I had formally worked with reached out and we just had a check-in and it really reminded me of the show Heartstopper, you know, these gay British kids. One of the gay kids, he is like always going to his art teacher about his various issues like, Hmm, I’m gay. Like, what do I do? And the art teacher’s just trying to have lunch. And I remember I used to be Charlie, the kid, but now I’m the art teacher trying to have lunch and trying to help this kid deal with crisis. I remember years ago, the first time Trump got elected, I remember the first thing that I was thinking about was ” oh, I, I guess I’ll never be able to transition or live my life the way I want or need to.” then I just kind of grieved that and made peace with it. I do wish I could speak to that version of me because I think it’s pretty similar to what Hải had shared. Personally, I do feel I am in probably the best form of myself that I’ve ever been. I’m the wisest I’ve ever been. I’m doing everything that I want to. I’m learning to heal my inner child. My taste in men has improved dramatically. I learned how to say no. There’s a lot of things that have just shifted that I think are net positives, but it’s in total, in contrast with the world in which we live ourselves. And I think similar to what folks have shared I think for me, I’ve just gone more hyperlocal. Right. Given that these institutions, our federal institutions, our state institutions have failed us. It’s just truly ripping the mask off. These are things we’ve known before. The ways in which we are being oppressed, the ways in which people spout hate. The rhetoric being used. It’s not new, it’s not novel. These are things we’ve heard over and over again. Like, if I wanted to cosplay as a hater, an alt-right hate, like, it’d be so easy, you know everything they say. There’s a sense that the oppression we face is so mundane and it’s so ordinary. The student had asked me oh, Jean, I’m so alone right now. What do I do as a young queer person trying to navigate the Trump of it all, and I was like, oh girl, you need to make friends. Like you really need to make friends. ’cause it’s really, yeah, like when our institutions fail us, our community really holds us out. It’s why I organized with the QTViệts. It’s why my art friends, we created Under Painting Collective. It’s why we find these pockets of the world that we really want to build and that are nourishing to us, our energy giving, that we wanna invest our time and resources in. And we try to carve out a version of the world that we wanna live in. And I think that’s how we ride it out, or that’s how we survive. We have to look super local. Yeah, I think that’s basically how I’m doing.
So I’ll, I’ll just check there too.
Cheryl Truong (she/they): Thank you all for sharing what’s in your heart.
Hải, thank you for bringing up chia buồn, sharing sadness, and for naming our legacies of ancestral resilience. eri, thank you for reminding us that the state and institutions have no say in the validation of our identities as trans and queer people. And for lifting up mutual aid as a beautiful alternative that supports, and I loved how you put this, those courageous asks for help that the state will never be able to provide. And of course for modeling those grounded no’s..
And Jean, thank you for your offerings of alt-right cosplay. And for grounding us in that strength of community. And I just want to say. A big, thank you to the art teachers in the middle of having lunch everywhere. I don’t know where we would be without you truly. ‘
We are going to take a quick music break, don’t go anywhere we’ll be right back with more conversation in honor of Trans Day of Visibility when we return. Next up, you’re listening to a track called “Juniper” by Minjoona, a project led by Korean American musician, Jackson Wright. This track features Ari Statler on bass, josh Qiyan on drums, and Ryan Fu producing. Juniper is the lead single from Minjoona’s newest release, the Juniper EP, a five track p roject rooted in indie rock, 60 throwback vibes, and lyric forward storytelling. You can follow Minjoona on Instagram at @minjoonamusic or find them on Spotify to keep up with upcoming releases. We’ll drop the links in our show notes. Enjoy the track and we’ll be right back.
And we’re back!!. You’re listening to APEX express on 94.1 KPFA, 89.3 KPFB in Berkeley. 88.1. KFCF in Fresno and online@kpfa.org. That was “Juniper” by Minjoona.
Huge thanks to Jackson Wright and the whole crew behind that track. Before the break we talked about, what’s been sitting on our hearts as queer and trans people moving through the world right now, naming both the grief and also the resilience that we carry. I wanted to stay with that thread and widen the lens a bit because we know that even in the face of violence and erasure, trans resistance is alive and ongoing. So I want to ask, where are you seeing moments of resistance in the trans community?
Whether in movement spaces, small acts of care, or day to day survival.
eri oura (they/them): I am happy to share first. Where I’m seeing resistance, movement building work and also community building. My paid work with LavNix is definitely a space where we center trans justice and do the work of developing leaders with skills to be able to hold the line of our existence. Our existence is resistance. We don’t just see our own individual liberation as separate from everyone else’s. We are doing the work of advocacy around budget in San Francisco with our Care Not Cops campaign. We’re doing the work of lifting up our folks in our stories not just in the current moment, but also by lifting up like our QTAPI histories. QTAPI meaning queer and trans API folks. With Mugwarts, we provide a more accessible, affordable space for queer and trans BIPOC folks to heal. For me that is also part of the resistance, the fight, getting to rest because as we were checking in earlier and talking about how stress really does shorten people’s lifespans and quality of life. I think knowing that there’s space, there’s place, there’s land for us to engage with to do that work of healing. The more disconnected we are from that reality that we are connected with the land, it’s making it harder for us to be able to feel connected to ourselves, to each other. For me, when I go to the river for a swim or go to the ocean for a dip, that is part of my resistance too. My joy in being in that space is so important. Why would we fight if we had nothing to look forward to? Honestly, if it all just felt so mundane and also like we’re always fighting, we would just burn out. When we’re burnt out, it makes it hard for us to feel the light of our ancestors, feel the light of the universe that is actually our birthright to connect with. The reality is that this world is very abundant. Scarcity is a manufactured thing that, capitalism, the state is trying to push on us as a way to oppress us, to suppress us, to keep us down. When we tap into abundance, we tap into pleasure, we tap into joy. We tap into ease in this way that allows us to stay connected to each other, to ourselves, to other beings on this planet. Being rooted in abundance is a powerful act of resistance.
Jean Phạm (they/them): Yeah. Well said. I try to practice abundance, but I always feel all I know is scarcity. Great reminder. For me, trans justice is so embedded with so many larger movements like you have shared. Trans justice is disability justice. Trans justice is fighting for Palestinian liberation. Trans justice is anti-imperialist because I think ultimately, self-determination in our bodies. To be the way that we are.
I often feel spiritually as trans people, we know who we are so there’s a lot of abundance there. There’s a lot of wealth there. I would actually argue spiritually cis people have more to gain from trans justice than we do. I always share how trans people in pre-colonial societies were spiritual leaders, shamans, healers in the community. It was mentioned before that a lot of trans people today exist in underground economies or are just not embedded in society. There’s no place for trans people in our current world whereas there used to be. I do think that is one of the unstated qualities that we’re trying to bring within trans justice. I also will say in any given committee where people are doing actions or organizing or doing mutual aid, I can assure you that there is a, they them, there is a doll, there’s a trans gender expansive person, otherwise trans person in those committees, you know, People are moving.
In the topic of trans visibility day, we see the ramifications of that, right? Visibility doesn’t always offer us more power or safety. Institutions are realizing this. You see nonprofits, community orgs, they have to scrub every fixture of language around diversity, equity, inclusion, so that they aren’t being targeted by the federal government. Visibility isn’t really what trans justice is about, right? It has never really protected us. We’re fighting for basic things to survive, to work to make sure this stupid gender on our form is right. To walk to the store. In some sense, the way I’ve lived and expressed my transness, I always feel the un visible parts or the invisibility is where I will always feel more actualized. You know when people, cis people, strangers look at me and they’re like, who the hell is she? What is she like? What is that? I’m like, uh, My favorite moments are when people. Like in my old job when I had first moved to the Bay, I got this big sense that I declared to know, oh, I’m trans. And I could see the cogs turn in their head as they’re trying to figure out, oh, which way are they trans? And I love that. I love living in the ambiguity. To me, that’s always been more emblematic what being trans is to me is kind of just playing with expectations. Making people a bit more uncomfortable and allowing more for more experiences to live.
Hải Võ: What’s coming to mind, in addition to what you’ve all shared is, what does it mean for me to be on Turtle Island and in the diaspora? Part of transness and queerness is also understanding who we are and where we come from. In the context of just the nature of why I’m here on Turtle Island in diaspora is because the US was there in Vietnam. I think that means trans justice is actually beyond borders and actually recognizing that the history of our queer and trans people, trans justice means that we’re also acknowledging the struggles and liberations of our kin
in the homeland. When I think about trans justice, I can’t help but think about the fights against imperialism, colonization, the ways in which essentially trans and queer people in Vietnam have been discriminated, have been bullied, have been essentially because of colonization, imperialism, been wiped out of history.
And if it wasn’t for a culture that is by word of mouth and people from indigeneity that is questioning who we are and also being like, well, if we are trans and queer then we must have queer and trans ancestors. And we do. And that’s been a very healing journey for me. It’s been both hard but also very healing to know that queer and trans folks our age, even younger are also experiencing similar things to what we’re experiencing here as queer and trans folks in the diaspora. But it also means fighting for indigenous, local, queer and trans ancestral homeland experience also. I was just, we were just hearing about how USAID was paying for essentially medication for our people over there. But now with that gone, it’s like, what are people to do? And so it’s not even just, not just about trans lives. The defunding of that has also created stop in removal of Agent Orange. We have fields in Vietnam that have like, after that cut, are left to continue to have Agent Orange. Now, with the early monsoon seasons of the year, that water will permeate into millions of lives downstream. And Vietnam is a whole ecosystem of wetlands and water. And so for me, I just think about trans justice as as a Viet, as a Southeast Asian, as an Asian person, as a person who has lineage somewhere, ancestry, somewhere indigeneity somewhere, it means acknowledging the deep historical reparations that colonization, imperialism and modern day capitalism in parts. The last thing I’ll share for this one is I think that trans and queer justice is also ecological justice. This is very connected to what you were sharing, Jean. Ecology is essentially the study of home. There’s just been too many times in my life where home has been ripped from me. I’ve had to leave what I thought was home. I’ve had to feel like I, I needed to be a different thing outside of what my home actually is in my own body and my own mind. How can we create a piece of not just mind, but also piece of body, piece of place, piece of space, piece of an unlived ecology that transness and queerness is the norm.
And, I love learning about how nature is so queer and so trans. I mean me saying that and naming that is a hard thing to say. The English terms that we use is a very colonial thing, but the ways in which other animals and plants are in relationship to each other, I’m like, oh, worms having multiple genders, I’m like that. I feel like that. And so like, the worms probably have their own language about what that is. I’m not gonna like, “worms, teach me about who you are” because I’m not trying to appropriate you and I’m just like, this is this cool that nature is already in a state of abundance in itself, like queer abundance in itself.
Cheryl Truong (she/they): Ooh.
Thank you all for sharing those powerful reflections on resistance. It’s such a reminder that trans resilience doesn’t just show up in protests, policy fights, or in singular days like Trans Visibility Day. It lives on in our relationships. And our lineages in the everyday ways we refuse erasure.
As Hải reminded us. It stretches beyond borders and into our motherland, especially as diasporic trans or queer people of color. And it shows up when we play with people’s expectations. Like Jean confusing their colleagues assumptions about their gender. It’s also in the worms. In our ecologies. It shows up when we fight for Palestinian liberation. When we organize with value aligned groups, like Lavender Phoenix, like QTViệt Cafe it also shows up as Eddy beautifully names in our joy. I love the importance of uplifting that swimming in the ocean is part of resistance. Because rest is resistance. Pleasure is resistance. Our very existence is resistance. So, thanks for grounding us all in that
So we’ve just spent time talking about how resistance shows up in our trans and queer communities. And I now want to shift us into a conversation about what sustains us, what keeps us going, what brings us back to ourselves and to each other. But before we dive in, we’re going to take a quick music break.
Up next. You’re going to be hearing from Suncha, an Asian-American Bay area based band dabbling in punk rock, math rock, and groove-based jamming. The group features Ryan Foo on guitar and vocals. Jackson Wright on bass and vocals. And Abhay Malik on drums. You can catch Suncha live this Sunday at Simmer Huang in Newark, California. For more information, check them out on Instagram. @ ateliercollective That is spelled. A T E L I E R collective– link in our show notes. And keep an eye out Suncha’s debut album is set to drop in the summer of 2025. Enjoy the music and we’ll be right back. Welcome back!
You’re listening to APEX express on 94.1 KPFA, 89.3. KPFB in Berkeley, and 88.1 KFCF in Fresno and online at kpfa.org. Big shout out to Suncha for that last track. So much love to this Bay Area Asian American band bringing punk, math, rock and groove into our ears and hearts. You can catch them live this Sunday at Simmer Huang in Newark. More information on Instagram at @ateliercollective, as always link in our show notes.
I’m your host, Cheryl Truong and tonight’s show is in honor of Trans Day of Visibility. I’m here in conversation with Jean and Hải from QTViệt Cafe, which is a project of Asian Refugees United. And eri oura from Lavender Phoenix. Before the break we explored where trans resistance is showing up across our communities. Now I want to turn towards what sustains us, what keeps us rooted, nourished and connected as we continue dreaming and building together. So my next question: what kind of trans joy or wisdom has carried you through this past year?
Jean Phạm (they/them): I wanna uplift what Hải I had shared at the very beginning. The Vietnamese concept of chia buồn. Sharing sadness. We can survive if we each just take a little piece. The community takes a small morsel of someone’s burden and helps lift them up and share it. I really experienced that a couple weeks ago when my maternal grandmother passed away. And I think one of the biggest I feel tragedies is we’re all just trying to survive. Purchasing power definitely creates a difference, but the reality is in our terms of just lived experience, we’re just one or two paychecks from just full on destitution, you know? so we really rely on each other. When I heard that my grandma passed away, it was really hard for me because one is just going back to family is such a traumatic ordeal, and two, the flights were just logistically expensive. I just commiserated to one of my friends I had to do an overnight train down, which is maybe 10 hours. I mean, it’s fine. I’ve done it many times before. But I think as an act of care and mutual aid, my friends organized behind my back and were able to give me enough so that I could get a flight and not really think about the logistics so much so that I could just focus on being present and also deal with the mental load of being around my family again. To me that was an expression of trans joy in terms of all these relationships I had built, really came through and I wasn’t expecting it to, you know. One constant reflection I had was like, when people are grieving, am I just nice to them? Because I was like, I don’t think so. Maybe, you know, it’s hard to tell. But people really came through. And I think that really lifts me up and really I think about it so often. Being able to share in everyone’s sadness. I’ll also share within my close group of friends, I have this little scheme or theory called the Screaming Girl Theory. In a given week, only one of us can be the screaming crying girl and everyone has to support her. And then it rotates. In the scheme of things, it’s like, oh God, we’re all people of color who are all queer, trans or just have a touching point of just being oppressed in some way. If someone’s like, oh no, I’m having such a hard time because I’m depressed, I have anxiety, I’m a queer person of color. You know, that type of rhetoric. It’s hard in our space ’cause it’s like me too. Everyone’s going through it. So I think moments where we can share in that and rotate taking care of each other is really what has been keeping me going. And I also think it’s nice to care for other people too. That’s probably the final realization. People like helping, and giving people opportunities to help. I think it does induce a nice feeling and we may not always be well resourced or have the capacity to, but when we can, when we offer help to people, I think that’s something people generally wanna do in service of the community.
eri oura (they/them): I love this question because again, I feel like joy is so important right? In our fight for liberation, for Justice as trans folks, gender expansive folks.
I mean, honestly, being with other queer and trans folks is such a joy. When we’re marching in the streets together, when we’re organizing doing the back end work of creating the space for each other to feel safe. And not just safe, but also seen and held. Not only is it joyful, but it’s healing. When I think about trans justice, I think about healing justice as a intersection that we hold together. It’s inseparable, honestly. I do think that there is a lot of grief, a lot of hurt, a lot of trauma that we have to endure in this world and sometimes we inflicted on each other. But when we can turn that around and really face each other in those hard moments. It makes such a difference in the quality of our relationships. The depth of how much we can access within ourselves. We as trans and queer folks, it doesn’t matter what the state is trying to impose on us, trying to erase our existence, they have been doing that forever. They have been trying to eliminate us in this colonial context. It really is the joy that keeps us buoyant, that keeps us connected to the light of the universe that keeps us connected to each other. When other people who don’t understand transness see us in our joy, they just see joy and that makes it attractive. That makes it something they wanna be a part of. The fact that we have learned to put words to who we are in the deeper ways that words have evolved into is us really just trying to fit into this context of colonialism, meaning making, all of these things that I think are powerful tools, powerful skills to have. At the root of everything is we know we are a network that supports each other to exist. And being able to put words to that is such a gift. Without the words we communicate with each other in ways we see each other in ways that I don’t think people who are stuck in narrow binaries can actually see or feel or understand. For whatever reason that makes them angry. Their anger is just more fuel for us to lean into joy because it’s not even about them. We can have conversations, we can try to justify our joy and our existence, but at the end of the day when the sun goes down, we are who we are, and in the light it might be easier to see how magical we are, but in the darkness, I think. We glow in a way that people who are limited in their thinking are not able to. They can’t tap into that light.
Hải Võ: I used to hide a lot. I used to hide who I was in order to think that I would feel safe. Hide my queerness. Hide my transness. Because there were assumed fears that my parents being conservative Catholic that I would be reprimanded and then, that happened. There was a period of that very tragic dark times. Looking back at that, I think I needed to experience that in order to fully understand how deeply organized systems can be traumatic and be deeply problematic. And also lessons in how do we actually better organize our systems to not perpetuate discrimination, violence and trauma.
All that to say, I think that part of trans joy in the last year is instead of being less, getting smaller, being less than, hiding, actually, trans joy is just what you were saying, eri. Actually just being more me. Being more truthful. More honest. I’ve been on a healing journey with my dad the last year. We’ve been estranged for five years since my mom passed. I had gone to come to peace with, potentially not talking to my dad for a while. But I think that innately part of being Viet and wanting to reconnect with Vietnam is to try to connect with my dad as a portal or as a throughway to Vietnam. I took both the risk and the opportunity to reconnect with my dad with the hopes that we could heal our relationship. And just as much as I’ve gone through my own journey on transness and queerness, my dad has also too. There’s been a lot of apologies, A lot of me unearthing and upending a lot of my own truths and just being really honest about who I am and being more comfortable and more grounded in what I want to do in my life. My dad has too. As hard as the tensions are, and even if in the moment, our elders, our people, our families might not be voting in the ways that we want them to vote or be against the policies and practices that counter who we are. I think I’m hopeful for just being more honest with myself and getting out of our comfort zones and unease in order to really surface what needs to be said. That’s one. Two is, I just love meeting with our queer and trans elders. I think that’s been part of our joy. Shout out to Sống Thật, the first queer Viet radio show in San Jose. They literally just were like, we’re gonna take community college classes on radio and we want a show. We just wanna share that experience to dismantle a lot of the stereotypes. And so I think a lot of the, the trans joy that I’m experiencing is just we just gotta do it. We just gotta try it. I’m learning with our ancestors. Learning with our elders and just being like, we gotta try, we gotta do and yeah. I’ll check there. Mm-hmm.
Cheryl Truong (she/they): And that’s the end of our show. If you’re. Curious about the incredible work being done at Lavender Phoenix, Asian Refugees United, QTViệt Cafe, Mugworts, and Under Painting Collective, check out the links in show notes and learn more about how these groups are building trans and queer aAPI power, culture and care in our communities. You can access the show notes at kpfa.org/programs/apex-express.
Before we close out, I want to take a moment to uplift a campaign that is very close to my heart. Pardon APSC 4. Some of you listening may already be familiar with this campaign, they’ve been on our show before. Pardon APSC4 is a demand to Governor Newsom to pardon the APSC 4 which are Borey “Peejay” Ai, Nghiep “Ke” Lam, Chanton Bun, and Maria Legarda. Our beloved family members, the APSC 4 are at risk of deportation. We are asking you our listeners to join us in telling the governor to pardon them now so they can remain home with their families and communities. The APSC 4 are childhood survivors of violence and trauma. They are impacted by bullying, poverty, war, and domestic violence. Like so many others, they were funneled into the criminal legal system as youth. While incarcerated, they became leaders. They completed self-help and educational programs. They mentored others and committed themselves to healing and transformation. Each one of them have earned release through California’s parole process and were affirmed for release by both the board of parole hearings and Governor Newsom himself. But instead of being allowed to return home, ICE was contacted and now they face deportation simply because of where they were born. That is what’s called double punishment. A racist and unjust system that targets immigrants and refugees after they’ve already served their time. The APSC 4 are not just individuals. They are community leaders. As part of the Asian Prisoners Support Committee, an organization, which centers formerly incarcerated leadership, Peejay, Ke, Bun, and Maria provide reentry support. They mentor at risk youth and they lead workshops on the school to prison, to deportation pipeline. They are change-makers. They are caregivers. They are parents. They are our community. And despite everything that they’ve given and everything that they continue to do, they live in an immigration limbo. Under the threat of deportation by a system designed to disappear them. So we are calling on Governor Newsom to stop ICE from deporting the APSC4.
We are calling on Governor Newsom to grant them pardons. To learn more and take action, please visit bit.ly/APSC4.
That is B I T dot L Y slash APSC. You can sign a petition, write a letter and help us keep our people home. Please join us in the fight to keep APSC4 home. Thank you. Apex express is produced by Miko Lee, Paige Chung, Jalena Keane-Lee, Preeti Mangala Shekar. Shekar, Anuj Vaidya, Kiki Rivera, Swati Rayasam, Nate Tan, Hien Nguyen, Nikki Chan, and Cheryl Truong
Cheryl Truong: Tonight’s show was produced by me, cheryl. Thanks to the team at KPFA for all of their support. And thank you for listening!