Dispatches from Asian American Unity Fest, Year Two by Olivia West [Part 1]

It is always with immense pleasure and honor that we here at Unite Asia can support and promote the now annual ASIAN AMERICAN UNITY FEST in any way possible. Today, we get to release the first of a 3-part article about this year’s event, excellently written by Olivia West. Respect to people all over the world making themselves known in a very white scene like hardcore. We all exist – this door has always been open to everyone, we just need to get in there, get on those stages, and bring along as many of us as we can. RESPECT.

Go Where You’re Celebrated
Dispatches from Asian American Unity Fest, Year Two by Olivia West

I entered The Meadows alone but immediately recognized faces from last year. In a near-sold-out room, the venue had never felt so alive. Asian American Unity Fest returned to Brooklyn for its second year on May 1st and 2nd, kicking off AAPI month with two days of live bands, vendors, mutual aid organizations, and aftershows across The Meadows, Gold Sounds, Alphaville, and The Broadway.

I ran into my oldhead Masao Yamada from WA, decked in his Tacoma windbreaker. Since leaving the Bellevue teen center where I learned to book shows, screenprint, and run sound, Masao helped launch Ground Zero Radio, a youth-run media collective now operating internationally with support from Seattle’s The Vera Project. Two of their Paperblog writers, Olivia and Lauren, spent the weekend interviewing organizers, bands, and attendees.

The back area of The Meadows was packed with vendors. Riley from Say Chao, a Vietnamese and Italian fusion pop-up, kept attendees well hydrated and sold out by the end of the night, donating her proceeds to help bring the GZ Radio crew to NYC. Tattoo artists shared space with secondhand clothing vendors, print artists, and mutual aid organizations. Joe Songco, drummer of Outburst, shouted out Anakbayan Manhattan, a Filipino youth and student organization advocating for national democracy in the Philippines with a socialist perspective.

From left to right: Masao and I on day two photo by Hee Jin Kim 

Reilly from SAY CHAO on day one, photo by Hee Jin Kim

Day one opened with No Values from New York. The singer called out classic HC tropes like “fake fucking friends” while the band played next to a Bangladesh jersey hung from the bass cab. Several front people spoke in support of a free Palestine, Congo, and Sudan. On stage, Christian of Brainwashed voiced how our music scene is meant to be underground, that we have to protect it from those who want to exploit it, while still making space for young kids figuring themselves out. That tension lingered throughout the entire fest. 

Sehun of No Model described AAU’s booking process as entirely word of mouth, bands the organizers know personally, bands they get put onto through friends, fully DIY. “I want to discover new Asian-fronted bands and young Asian kids that might not be in a band yet,” he told me. “It’ll plant the seed. Do something with this energy you have when you’re young.”

It’s one way of answering a harder question that rings through the fest: how do you build community in heavy music that stays inclusive without diminishing its integrity? Events like AAU feel like part of that answer. If that’s someone’s first punk show, we’re doing pretty good. Olivia and Lauren from GZ Radio, whose first punk show was the Real Asian Hate tour in Seattle, were covering the fest. My father, now in his sixties, brought a whole group of neighborhood dads to that show. Despite being an old punk himself, he’s usually critical of my scene out east because of how cruel people can be to each other. But he told me he’d go again if it brought the same sense of community.

Numerous bands echoed the same sentiments on stage, citing other bands playing as the reason their own projects exist, cherishing community and calling for a world without American imperialism. Sehun told me “Not all Asians are my Asians.” You can’t claim someone just because they look like you or have gone through the same thing. It’s what you do with that experience. Molly of Cherub Chains shared his sentiment: “There is a fine line of tokenization. This whole fest is about bringing in bands that are Asian fronted and that have a very passionate, aggressive, loud voice for the community, because Asians have always been seen as stereotypically docile, passive. We’re not just gonna book any band just because they’re Asian. We want them to have a great connection to their core, to be doing so much for the community, more than just for themselves. They’re out there being activists.” Christian of Brainwashed put it plainly: “The idea of Asian Americans in aggressive music is foreign to the general American public because of their stereotypes of Asians. Aggressive music is a really interesting way to see us express ourselves in a way that is not acceptable. It is not acceptable to scream in public. It’s not acceptable to be mad. They don’t want to see it. They don’t want to hear it.”

I often think of the state of hardcore and punk, and why we join. Some people come because they’re rightfully angry, fed up with corrupt systems, but sometimes that anger gets misdirected at other people or even themselves. Heavy music circles can exacerbate the “us versus them” mentality. Go where you’re celebrated, and celebrate those who try and grow, especially when they’ve lived something similar to you. Molly says “I hope people walk into it feeling welcomed, and that despite the scary music they understand why this music is so angry. The Asian diaspora has so much pain and trauma. Knowing how our parents grew up, the struggle they went through for us to be here.”

Molly took the stage in a beautiful black and white Áo Dài, her deep voice commanding everyone’s attention, set against her bright smile and graceful presence. The timbre of her voice felt completely singular, made of pure power. Multiple concertgoers could be heard saying “I want to learn how to yell like her.” You can’t. Metallic hardcore bands come and go but a voice like that you won’t forget. After 20 years of listening, hardcore can feel monotonous and derivative and I get bored. But hearing Molly sing reminded me what all of this is actually about.

“I hope people walk into it feeling welcomed, and that despite the scary music they understand why this music is so angry. The Asian diaspora has so much pain and trauma. Knowing how our parents grew up, the struggle they went through for us to be here.”

 Sometimes we need permission from someone else to show ourselves. Molly shared that multiple women wanted to wear an Áo Dài but were too nervous, seeing her wear one on stage made them wish they had. I think about a time I was a teen performing with yeonji (연지), the dots Korean women wear to ward off spirits during special occasions. A few kids asked what was on my face and I got embarrassed and wiped them off. If I had seen someone owning their culture the way Molly did, I think I would have explained what they were instead of hiding.

Molly Nguyen performing at The Meadows.
Photographer Hee Jin Kim captioned this one “the last thing you see before you get your ass beat.””

Dog Breath had their own fashion moment in matching Adidas sweatsuits. I love when bands match. Churning out some evil-sounding riffs and breakdowns, I could watch them all day. Speaking with Pierre Botardo at the aftershow, he told me about his own entry into hardcore. “I grew up listening to hip hop, reggae dancehall, and R&B. There was a band visiting from Sweden and I was in the front. I got elbowed right in the face and I loved it. Something to help me get all of that energy out, better than walking around pissed all the time.” But finding an Asian community in punk took longer. “Even when I was going to shows here, I was going by myself. If there were Asian people present, nobody talked to me. All the bands were white to be honest. Nothing really spoke to me. I was just there for the aggression. To see all of them put this together is awesome. I mainly enjoy POC coming together for AAU, that means a lot more to me. Representation is important but I can represent myself, no matter where I go.” I had a wonderful conversation with their guitarist Tyler about the complexities of Irish and Sicilian identities in NYC, heritage, dual citizenship and the price of fighting for what’s right.

From top to bottom; Pierre of Dog Breath, Sehun of No Model at The Meadows, photos by Ruben Romero

Initiate from California featured melodic guitar riffs and intermixed melodic vocals. A B-boy dance battle broke out in the crowd between members of Silent Spring who played on day two. That’s the most Asian shit I’ve ever seen. Molly noted “Cherub Chains would not exist without Initiate. It made my whole year when they said yes to play the fest.” You can hear the influence despite their clearly distinct styles.

S.P.E.A.R. vocalist Machalek was wearing a 2015 Rain Fest shirt; a fest I snuck into at nineteen by licking my friend’s entry stamp and transferring it onto my hand. Sorry to the organizers and Neumos staff. Now living back in Guam after more than twenty years in the Pacific Northwest, Machalek spoke onstage about Guam’s history as the longest colonized island in the Pacific and the recent typhoon damage affecting the region. I knew S.P.E.A.R. meant business when the guitarist turned his instrument vertical and started chugging. Their set delivered exactly the kind of classic 80s hardcore that makes my heart sing. Afterward, I learned more about the connections between Polynesian and Micronesian communities, traditional foodways, and ongoing mutual aid efforts throughout the islands. The depth of knowledge Machalek carries feels invaluable.

[End of Part 1]