
In the opening scene of Everything, Everywhere All At Once (EEAAO), there’s a red, black, and yellow box sitting inconspicuously on the shelf.
For >99% of viewers—this little box probably didn’t register at all. It was your run-of-the-mill clutter. Some generic set decor in the background.
For the other <1%—for children of Chinese immigrants like me—that flash of red, black, and yellow packaging instantly took us back to our childhood kitchens, our moms pouring us a generous spoonful of the medicinal brown syrup whenever we had a cough coming on. I can almost taste the thick, sweet herbal goo on my tongue as I type this.
Clearly, as part of the opening scene, that shot was no accident. Someone—perhaps Taiwanese-American director Daniel Kwan—knew that including said cough syrup carried an entire backstory with it.
Those otherwise unremarkable few seconds got me thinking about “moments of seen”—or those moments when you’re watching a movie and you recognize your lived experience on-screen.
As Asian Americans, we didn’t get many moments of seen growing up. And so every time this happens, when I see myself in something, I experience this enveloping, tingly warm feeling of being understood. Of being more interconnected with humanity.
These moments feel both big and small at the same time. Big because we know what an uphill slog it’s been for our community to get here; small because the things that can make an entire continents of people feel seen (see: yogurt drinks on Netflix) are usually the most mundane of things.
As humans, I don’t think we ever tire of feeling seen. It’s probably why we love memes so much. There’s something about having your own, very specific experience regurgitated back to you that makes us feel just a little less isolated in this world. That makes us feel like we belong.
Teresa
What makes you feel seen?
In my twenties, I’d consider myself lucky if I saw a reflection of my Asian-American upbringing in the media once a year. But recently, it feels like the frequency of my “moments of seen” is multiplying.
In the last couple of months, I felt seen when:
1. Hearing the characters from EEAAO switch between English, Mandarin, and Cantonese with surprising fluidity.
My paternal grandparents spoke mostly Taiwanese, my parents speak Mandarin to us, and my brother and I speak a combination of English and broken Mandarin back to them.
The EEAAO family’s attempts at bridging three languages and generations in one conversation very much mirrored the potholed way my family tried to communicate when I was growing up—with none of us having the full vocabulary in the other languages to say exactly what we meant.
2. Flipping through the Woks of Life cookbook (highly recommend, btw) and coming across a recipe for a fruit whipped cream cake—a dessert that was the centerpiece of most of my childhood birthday parties.
I spent my younger years wishing for a basic-ass Baskin Robbins Oreo ice cream cake from an American mall bakery—and now, what I wouldn’t give for a fruit whipped cream cake on my birthday.
This cookbook is not just an introductory guide to Chinese cooking. It’s a love letter, a history book, and a portal to a world of homegrown flavors that was previously lost to me.
3. Reading the first chapter of the novel Fiona and Jane and seeing myself in a main character for the very first time.
Jane is introduced as a Taiwanese-American girl in California—whose mother is a realtor and whose father takes a job in Taiwan when she’s still in high school. She grows up playing the piano, spending summers in the motherland, and attending Saturday Chinese school.
IS THIS BOOK ABOUT ME? I wondered in the first 10 minutes. Some of the details—down to getting bribed with McDonald’s after Chinese school—were uncannily familiar.
So here’s to the the artists and the writers. The directors and the actors and the comedians. Thank you for telling our stories with deliberate, Chinese cough syrup-level care. Sending you a virtual (not too sweet) fruit whipped cream cake for creating the art, culture, and media that makes me feel seen.
Tell me below: Have you had an instant of self-recognition while watching a movie/TV show or reading a book? What are your “moments of seen”—the moments that have made you feel seen?
🎤 I went down a deep EEAAO rabbit interview hole, and accidentally watched the entirety of this 44-minute SAG interview with Stephanie Hsu and Ke Huy Quan. In most post-awards show interviews, they get asked a bunch of generic diversity questions. This Q&A (done for an audience of actors) digs into their artistry and process: Hear about Stephanie’s viral audition tape, the four types of acting coaches Ke hired to prepare, and the blessing ceremony the cast did together before shooting began. I love these two!
🛍 Here’s a nameplate necklace that could be an heirloom piece. I’ve never been drawn to traditional nameplate necklaces a la Carrie Bradshaw, but I love Kinn’s recently released character necklaces in dainty 14k solid gold—available in Korean, Chinese, and Japanese characters.
🎭 Feeling quite sentimental about Phantom of the Opera coming to an end. Phantom is the longest-running musical in Broadway history and my all-time favorite show. This NYT feature story is a delightful peek into the orchestra pit, where some career musicians have spent their entire lives.
One of my favorite posts of yours so far
I felt so seen when I spotted the pi pa gao as well! And all the Chinglish. Loved this post. Gotta go find myself some whipped cream fruit cake this weekend.