Vietnamese Coffee Shop

Ugh, okay this is up at the request of others.

 

I'm open about it, in terms of discussing it and answering questions about it and my experience, but was reluctant to put it up because it has no structure...It was just written and then hadn't been touched or looked at since I had left the job.  so, when I read this aloud for the first time after having written it...i realized how raw it was (not raw as in: tight, sick, and full ofmyselfdamn i am a good writer, but raw as in: shit, this needed work and revision etc.) but in a way it was good because it brought up the anger/emotions I felt at the time that I had written it.

 

It was read out loud recently (because I was pressured to put something out, but didn't have my other notebook) and I actually got a positive response from it (thank you to those that were there)..so here it is

 

this is called "Self-Hatred Proclamation"

 

 

The words burn in my throat,

The emotions well-up in my chest.

My eyes and nose tingle with

the tears that want to fall.

They expect,

and seem to know, that I

can handle this. That I

am superwoman.

She needs no help, no comfort.

She does not tire,

nor does she allow stress or pressure

to hinder her performance:

Believe, memorize, repeat to self.

Posture up, emotionless face,

dolled-up, I strut out.

 

My anger stemmed from the knowledge

that had been embedded in me.

In my very hatred for the stereotype

that I was being paid to portray.

In my very ambition to be

a catalyst for change. I became,

a fucking sell-out.

Fuck me, hypocrit.

I take my shittalk back.

I'm sorry I ever

shook my head in your direction.

I now do what you do.

Batt my fake eyelashes

smile and take your money.

I take your boyfriends money

I take your husbands money

I take your daddy's money

I take your brothers money

Even your grandfather's money.

I am that bitch that reinforced

your insecurities.

that bitch that said

that commercial was right

you are too fat.

that bitch that said you're too dark

that bitch that said your hair is too nappy

that bitch that said your hair isn't blonde enough

that bitch that said you don't have enough make-up on

you will never look as good as her

wear push-up bra's that push so hard

that your very tower of self-confidence

crumbles within you and you fear that guy

will get disappointed or feel deceived

when you take off, not only that push-up bra

but that make-up

those eyelashes

those 4-inch heels

and you strip down to nothing but

the very essence of what makes you - you

and you come to realize

that you

are not comfortable with who you are

because of bitches like me

fucking sell-out, hypocritical, bitches like me.

 

Post-word:

This was written when I worked at a Vietnamese Coffee Shop. Even with a college education, financial problems will push women to the extremity of using the stereotypical image to make money. I almost lost sight of everything that I had worked so hard to achieve, knowing very well how dangerous it is to get stuck in the downward spiral of sex-work.

Vietnamese Coffee Shops and their "activities" vary - many just serve vietnamese coffee and/or food, many are famous for their lingerie/bikini (and sometimes topless) waitresses, and many do more behind curtains...so, some may or may not consider it to be sex-work but ...although you may not be selling sex, you are selling the idea of it, which makes you/us/women vulnerable to sexual abuse.

Fave Quote of My Daily Reading

"I listened to him with open amazement, wondering if he realized the irony of his current situation or the karmic disaster he was heaping onto his daughter.  Sins of the father must be redeemed by his children.  Maybe that was why our dead ancestors watched over us: guilt"

Me! in the Golden Gate Express!

http://www.goldengatexpress.org/2011/10/06/student-parents/

Young mother juggles school, work and parenthood

Posted by Brian Balisi on October 6, 2011 in News · 0 Comments

Khay Hembrador poses with her son on Oct. 3. She attends SF State, works three jobs and takes care of 2-year-old Kairese in between. Photo by Andrew Lopez

Going to school can be difficult with the burden of high tuition costs, long work hours and an endless amount of homework assignments. While most students struggle to carry the heavy load associated with going to school, SF State student Khay Hembrador takes it in stride while holding her 2-year-old.

Hembrador, 23, sets her eyes toward graduating in the spring with a degree in Asian American studies; however the situation is proving to be difficult. She works three different jobs and does her homework while her son Kairese constantly craves her attention.

“I hate letting go of my time with him. I feel so guilty,” Hembrador said. “I should be home taking care of him.”

Hembrador stays with her parents during the semester and, although they help out when they can, she has to drop off Kairese with the babysitter during the week. A typical day starts when she wakes up at 7 a.m. and drops off Kairese at the babysitter. She arrives to work at the Asian American Women Artist Association by 9 a.m., then when she’s off at 3:30 p.m. she heads to SF State to make it to class by 4 p.m.

Weekends are no time for leisure; some days she has to work 12-hour shifts. Monday and Friday she teaches a karate class at Karate Team USA while her little one watches off to the side.

Hembrador’s karate instructor Andrew Rodriguez has known her for almost three years and admires how hard she works at keeping multiple jobs and going to school, still making time for her son.

“She’s handled it pretty well because everything she does is for her son,” Rodriguez said. “She makes me feel like I got to get three jobs just to keep up with her.”

Before Hembrador became pregnant with Kairese, she was trapped in an abusive relationship that resulted in a miscarriage. Her parents saw her second pregnancy as a tragedy, but Hembrador saw it as her drive to succeed. Now that she has broken away from the abusive relationship and has full custody of Kairese she can concentrate on creating a better life for the both of them.

“I wasn’t thinking straight back then,” Hembrador said. “But now Kairese motivates me to reach my goals.”

One of her biggest struggles is finding an affordable place for child care. She currently pays her babysitter $800 a month, but hopes she will be able to get into free childcare at the Early Childhood Education Center located on campus.

ECEC Director Sarah Johnson said the center takes in about 81 student parents each semester, with undergraduate low-income families receiving first priority. There are more than 150 families currently on the waiting list.

“Families on the list can wait up to six months to a year,” Johnson said. “We try to accommodate everyone including students who’ve graduated still seeking childcare, but we have to enroll based on undergrad status and household income.”

While she waits, Hermbrador focuses on other ways to get by.

Hembrador said whenever she gets to spend time with Kairese outside at the park or at Chuck E. Cheese’s the goal is to get him tired because she can’t do her homework while he’s awake. She either has to leave the house to do it or wait until around 11 p.m. when he falls asleep. She usually gets her homework done around 3 a.m., which means she must consume at least three cups of coffee the following day.

Not only will getting Kairese enrolled in the center save Hembrador money, it will also allow her to spend more time with him.

“The best thing I can do for my son is to graduate,” Hembrador said. “I’m doing this for the both of us.”

Arts of Pacific Asia Show - featured blog

http://www.waltermason.com/2012/02/arts-of-pacific-asia-show-san-fancisco.html


 Arts of Pacific Asia Show, San Fancisco - Guest Post by May-lee Chai 

Guest Blog by May-lee Chai 

            After Walter asked me if I’d contribute a guest blog, I went in search of something wonderful to write about for him and found the amazing Arts of Pacific AsiaShow  here in San Francisco!

 

            The annual San Francisco Arts of Pacific Asia Show is really spectacular, featuring exhibits from more than 75 art galleries from around the world and the San Francisco Bay area. I felt quite posh to be rubbing shoulders with the usual crowd of collectors and art aficionados. (The media rep for the show, Agnes Gomes-Koizumi, told me the shows have been attracting investors from around the world, especially China. At the organizers’ ceramics show, a Chinese collector shocked everyone when he pulled $430,000 cash out of his knapsack to make a purchase. “China is a new monetary market,” Agnes said with great understatement. Alas, I’m afraid people were much less impressed when I was only able to pull my little digital camera out of my handbag.)

 

            This year’s show was the first ever to feature contemporary Asian art as well as the usual displays of Asian antiquities. And while I like to look at centuries-old textiles, bronze Buddhas, Tibetan rugs, tomb figures, and all the other fascinating artifacts as much as the next person, I must admit it was the contemporary art that caught my eye .

            First off it was impossible to miss the giant red, steel-and-fiberglass sculpture of a fortune cookie that loomed in the center of the hangar-like Fort Mason CenterPavilion . The shiny fortune cookie by artist Brian Zheng of Guangzhou, China, reminded me of the tricked-out Corvette you might find in the center of a fancy car show, and the $1,000,000 price tag suggested the recession isn’t hitting everyone equally!

 

            The contemporary art show was co-sponsored by the Asian American Women Artists Association (AAWAA), which is the oldest national organization in the U.S. dedicated to promoting the visibility of Asian American women artists.

            “The organizers wanted us to bring in new people, a younger audience,”  AAWAA representative Khay Hembrador  told me. “People are really surprised to see the political art. We’ve got the slave girl pillows out front!”

            Indeed.

            San Francisco-based artist Cynthia Tom’s “Chinese Slave Girl Pillows” were arresting and impossible to forget as they lay nestled together in a bamboo basket, the slave girl’s face peering out poignantly from within.

 

            Cynthia told me she printed an early 20th century photograph of a Chinese girl working behind barred windows in San Francisco’s Chinatown on fabric, which she then hand-sewed into little pillows. “I want people to nurture the girl, pat her pillow, treasure her, take care of her,” Cynthia said, so that the slave girl’s spirit would be cared for in a way she never was in life. 

           

            Several of Cynthia’s acrylic paintings were also on display, including my favorite, the delightful and mysterious, “Cloud Walkers.”

 

           

            Another favorite was artist Shari Arai DeBoer’s “Science Tarot Cards .”

            Shari was one of five artists invited to contribute designs—she created the watercolor/etchings for the Suit of Swords, which in this deck illustrates findings in physics and math. The cards are sold at the California Academy of Sciences, online (Amazon) and at various fairs in San Francisco, where they have delighted both the spiritual adventurers and Silicon Valley elements in the city. “The techies were so excited,” Shari said. “It combines both their interests!”

 

Artists (l-r) Cynthia Tom and Shari Arai DeBoer

            Shari is a trained architect whose refined artwork featuring etching, photo-etching, and watercolor is exhibited throughout the city.

 

            Artist Xiaojie Zheng’s paintings perhaps most personified the themes of the Arts of Pacific Show as she combines both traditional Asian art motifs with distinctively contemporary images. Xiaojie studied art formally in college in China before moving to Holland to study art on a scholarship. In 1999 she moved to the San Francisco Bay area where she has been working ever since.

In her acrylic painting, “Reconciliation,” Xiaojie portrays herself as modern-day Bodhisattva of Infinite Compassion, wearing a yoga tanktop as she perches on a lotus while clutching the many tools needed to complete the tasks in her daily life: a cell phone, rolling pin, paintbrush, shopping bag, photo of her children, etc.

 

            “We’ve had a great response to the art,” Xiaojie said. “People are kind of surprised to see us. We are not Asian artists, we are not [strictly] American artists, we are in-between. We are Asian American artists.”

            Readers who are interested in seeing more work by AAWAA artists can check out their website: www.aawaa.net.

            The Arts of Pacific Asia Show has two annual shows, in San Francisco and in New York City. The public is welcome to attend. For future dates, check their website: http://www.caskeylees.com/SF_Asia/Info.html

***

 

 

            Guest blogger May-lee Chai  is a writer based in San Francisco. Her books include the novel Dragon Chica , the nonfiction book China A to Z , and the family memoir The Girl from Purple Mountain . You can check out her blog at www.mayleechai.wordpress.com.

FLAX art show

Khay Hembrador - Statement

Therapy Series: “Therapy”

My artwork is a series that addresses the relationship between first and second generation children and their immigrant parents.  These pieces pay homage to the generation before us that fought for ethnic studies and has brought us closer to our collective dream of equality.  I find therapy in music, breathing, and most importantly - speaking and expressing love to everyone I encounter.  It was the generation before us that has allowed me to be who I want to be, love who I choose, and be comfortable with my self image.

(the images of the other series "Speak Love" and "Breathe" are not shown in this)

My Artists Bio

I am Khay Hembrador, I was raised as a traditional Roman Catholic, second generation, Filipina, mixed with White (Polish), and Chinese... Born of an immigrant mother that was a product of colonization, and struggles with a tourist-visa father. I was raised by an aunt on the weekends and an uncle who betrayed my trust with men at a young age. My family struggles dysfunctionally to honor traditions, but I keep strong by challenging these traditions, breaking my family’s patterns of abuse and ignorance. My passion to create art comes from the angst and anger of my past experiences, powered by the knowledge and education that has been embedded in me through my college education, and my ambition to be a catalyst for change.

Photo Credits:

Nicole Roldan Photography

www.wix.com/nroldanphotography/nrp

I love my brown-ass

This piece is called “Products of Colonization”, mixed media, approx. 39x40 (inches).  This was my first exhibit and was held in the International Hotel Manilatown Center (I-Hotel) from April 27^th, 2010 until May 4^th 2010.  The exhibit actually stayed up an extra week in the I-Hotel. (yay)

This piece is really personal to me, not only because it has my grandparents and mothers pictures on it, but because it shows what affect colonization has had on the Philippines and the ideals of the people that were raised with the colonizers mentality.

The Barong (traditional Filipino shirt) in the front is actually not from Filipino/a’s.  These see-through shirts made from the leaves of pina, were actually made by the Spaniards when they colonized the Philippines.  The shirt was made for lower-class people and made transparent so that people could not hide weapons...The shirt is physically stripped down for metaphoric reasons, as well.

My mother is a product of a traditional Filipina and a navy man from a base that was stationed in the Visayas in Palompon, Leyte.  My grandmother was married to him, but he was an alcoholic and was eventually “dishonorably discharged” from the service and deported back to the united states. Since my mom is half white, she was seen as the “beauty” of the town – don’t get me wrong – my mother is beautiful, but why was that the only color related to beauty? She grew up in front of marching bands and competing in beauty pageants... and I was never as light as her, I was brown as my Spanish-looking grandmother, with big frizzy, curly hair, big thick lips, and meaty thighs.  My mom even made me use skin whitening soap (the advertisement all around the painting) to “help” me look whiter.  This stuck with me growing up in a small suburb of Southern California, Palmdale.  I always thought I wasn’t tall and skinny enough, my hair needed to be straighter, and I begged her to dye it blonde, but she wouldn’t let me because I was too young for “kaartihan”. Then I moved to San Francisco and I found that I couldn’t fit-in the Asian crowd either…I don’t know, but I didn’t actually realize.. until I was dating a Chinese guy ...that I was too “exotic- looking” to bring home to mama. (in my head: “WTF does that mean?!”) my lips and butt were too big, and his mom might think I’m black (in my head: “SHIT say something!”) of course I was too stunned to respond, but I was also stunned at myself for feeling so fucked up about it so many weeks after. 

So this painting was my middle finger to those “colonizer mentalities/ideals”

Yes, I am in a better place in my life now, and definitely don’t think of myself badly in that way anymore, I love my brown-ass.

Know History, Know Self

This is something I wrote when I found out I was pregnant. It’s been revised several times.. this is as short as I could make it.

Raised as a traditional Roman Catholic Filipina, born from an immigrant mother, struggles with a tourist-visa father. Raised by an aunt on the weekends and an uncle who betrayed my trust with men at a young age. They took my mother in, pregnant at 17, alone, and banished to this land called America. Surely, they would be more accepting of a pregnant teen than her small town in the Philippines. She strived to get an education... vocational medical school at night and flipped burgers during the day. They watched her child (me) for free, and so I was silenced by the principles of "utang ng loob." Yearning for a positive male figure in my life I attempted a relationship with my clinically depressed father, too consumed by his own problems to be the father I expected him to be. But, my mother stayed. She grew up without a father so she desperately tried to provide me with one. but he constantly dissappeared when problems arose. Nowhere to run when he left, no one to protect me from my uncle. "utang ng loob" still silenced my pain.

my mom, June 1988

I grew up denying it, I matured trying to change my father - for he was in every man I dated. I hung on as tight as I could, for as long as I could, in disbelief every time my attempt to change my father failed. But, I thought I found a keeper, because he held on to me tight. So tight I became isolated from everyone. I was in his hands, he said it was a safe place. There, he told me lies, there, he kept me down, there, he made me feel as though I would never find better. There, he held me down, physically, mentally and emotionally. But, I stayed, so determined to show mother that he was a good guy and to prove to her racist-ass that not all black men are violent, uneducated, and unethical……and simply, that love could exist in any color and culture, not just Filipino’s. I may have been correct in my intent, but wrong in my particular choice for the man I thought was right for proving that to her. I didn't realize I was repeating history until I ended up pregnant myself.

me, June 2009

I ended that cycle  the day I found out I was pregnant.

Be Forewarned: Here we go.

I am not a professional. I am not a writer. I'm a little internally insecure, but even though some of these stories may make me feel uncomfortable, they are stories that - I feel - I need to tell before moving on with my damn life. And as you read this, I may sound like a "debbie-downer" or an "all about me" type of conceited problematic person. I know the world doesn't revolve around me, and I also know there are folks out there that have been through - and are going through - much worse. I'm just writing to relieve myself of these thoughts, histories and stories that I feel are worth telling - and hopefully, find people that can relate to them-or just like reading them. I'm not much of a talker, shit never comes out my mouth correctly, so I attempt (poorly) to write ((..hell...I can barely write a paragraph without any run-on sentences. noticed much?)) Don't grade me for grammar.

sidenote: cussing may occur.