A New Kind of Sadness

When looking at the news, I’ve noticed that I reflexively scroll away from photos of Trump. It’s like when a photo of someone who used to be dear to me pops up on my device, and I avert my eyes to avoid dredging up the sadness that resurfaces with it. But why would I be sad to see a public figure?

I remember the cool kids in school wearing totes and tees with the face of George W. Bush that read “Not My President.” Whenever I would see that, I would agree silently, not because I held any political opinion but because Bush was literally not my president, given that I was a Korean national, who had lived half of her life in Korea. Even after I got my green card and was on the path to citizenship, I still did not identify as American. Not until I went to Korea and was made to realize that I’m definitely American. (Cue Dream of Home.)

Over the years, I’ve become invested in the democratic ideals of the US and believed that it would hold up constitutional rights—or at least the appearance of them. The current administration is shattering such illusions, and I realized it makes me sad to see the face of what America has become. A new kind of sadness for a new American.

Last week, armed and masked federal agents raided the Japanese American National Museum plaza, pretty obviously in a show of intimidation and force. The tactics, reminiscent of authoritarian states, seemed an egregious violation of the historical site in which persons of Japanese ancestry—both the second-generation citizens and the first generation who were barred from citizenship—were rounded up to be incarcerated during WWII. People will be gathering there for a National Day of Action to protest the attempts to erase history. Find me there today (and in a couple weeks for a screening of a documentary on art critics).

It feels like since I last wrote, all I’ve done is eat an excessive amount, catch up with friends over more food, stay in a horizontal position to alleviate a new kind of headache, then religiously go to Pilates to ward off further pain, and do what I need to do for my day job. All that to say, I’ve made no progress on my own work. I did write a little tune the prior month though, sparked by learning that “cheddar” can be a verb at the Tillamook Creamery in Oregon.

I didn’t get far, drafting the two stanzas below before hitting writer’s block.

Then I thought, what if instead of writer’s block, I had a cheese block … What could I do with it?

Tillamook Creamery had delicious grilled cheese and fried cheese curds. I continue to be lactose intolerant and someday, I may start taking Lactaid. But for now, my goal is to start taking magnesium as prescribed. I’m terrible at taking supplements, letting every bottle and box from my mom expire, but let me be a helpful hypocrite and end on this public service announcement to take your vitamins!

And while I’m on PSAs: there’s a global economic strike for Gaza on Thursdays. I can’t just keep looking away.

🔊 Currently listening to my pal Maclaine Diemer’s original soundtrack for Wildgate, a new video game. I love it when “Cleared for Launch” comes in 🚀