I'm so proud of you.
My honest feelings about May, as a Korean American female artist.
Hi friends,
Ever since I started celebrating Asian American Native Hawaiian Pacific Islander Heritage Month in 2021, I have felt an immense amount of anticipatory anxiety, pressure, and stress in the days leading up to May.
May feels like the only month I’m allowed to take up space. It feels like the only month I’m allowed to be proud to be Asian. It feels like the only month I’m allowed to fundraise for Patreon support as an independent, Asian American, female artist. It feels like the only month I’m allowed to promote myself and my work. It feels like the only month my identity feels validated.
May feels like an annual review of my career, and every year, I feel like I’ve failed.
"Another year and you *still* haven't figured out how to make enough money to be a full-time artist? Another year and you *still* have to fundraise for your salary? Another year and you *still* don't have all of the accolades you should’ve had by now — a Grammy, an Oscar, a New York Times Best Selling memoir, a sold-out international tour?"
How do I feel like I'm doing way too much and not nearly enough at the same time?
There are no awards for putting your career on hold for four years to take care of your dad. There are no awards for sacrificing your financial stability to take care of your immigrant parents during a global pandemic because your dad was suddenly diagnosed with metastatic cancer and they lost their businesses and entire life’s savings. There are no awards for taking your dad to all of his oncology, radiation, and chemotherapy appointments. There are no awards for translating and advocating for him at all of his appointments to ensure he received the best possible care. There are no awards for driving back and forth between New York and Virginia hundreds of times.
There are no awards for surviving the cancer, the dying, the death, the funeral, the burial, and the ongoing grief of losing the person who gave you life, raised you, and loved you more than anyone else in this world.
There are no awards for surviving the unsurvivable.
I wish being a daughter, a partner, a mother, a caregiver, a griever, a friend, an artist, and a human being during these chaotic, terrifying times, could feel like enough.
It is enough.
I am enough.
This month, I want to remember my work does not define my worth.
I want to remember I am enough, purely because I exist.
Things I want to remember:
Putting my career on hold to fight cancer with 아빠 is one of the greatest achievements of my life. Carrying 아빠 through the final years of his life is an experience I will always treasure and carry with immense gratitude. Becoming a mother to Haejoon is one of the most courageous things I've ever done. Being pregnant during my first year of grief — carrying Haejoon's life while carrying 아빠's death — was an absolute miracle.
I want to remember that surviving every single day since September 21, 1988 is a victory worth a thousand awards.
Every silent battle, every quiet fight — each one is worthy of all the acclaim, glory, and praise.
I created and birthed a human being into the world.
I fought cancer with 아빠 for three and a half years.
I carried 아빠 to the end of his life.
I take incredible care of the people I love.
I am a fierce mother.
I am a devoted daughter.
I am a committed partner.
I am an unwavering friend.
I am a brilliant writer, singer, songwriter, podcaster, poet, and artist.
After 36 years of life, I am still here.
This is enough.
I am enough.
If you're like me and you feel like you're not where you think you should be in life this May, let's remember — surviving is the goal, surviving is the victory. And to still be here — still living, still breathing, still fighting — is more than enough.
You are enough.
Happy Asian American Native Hawaiian Pacific Islander Heritage Month, friends. May we carry the pride of our miraculous, singular existence throughout all the days of this month, this year, and the rest of our lives.
I’m so proud of you.
With love,
Jieun
Stay Soft, Stay Open: May Episodes
This month, I’ll be sharing all of the episodes from May 2024 in my newsletters. Here are the first five episodes from last year.
May 1, 2024: I Feel Like I'm in Bloom
May 2, 2024: 12 Years of Friendship with Sonny
May 3, 2024: The Vulnerability of Inviting People into my Home
May 6, 2024: My Ongoing Struggle with Acknowledging My Limitations
May 7, 2024: The Rage of Watching My Immigrant Parents Serve White People
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