A close-up of three sets of hands from people of varying ages, holding hands together.

“How Do You Heal?”

Artists from AAPI communities respond to the prompt: ‘How do you heal?’

Marcus Ubungen

During the early days of COVID, we still wanted to create a sense of normalcy and joy for our three-year-old daughter, Alma. Despite the attacks on Asians and fears of COVID, it was important to show Alma that there were still ways to explore and be curious. Bright spots in a dark time. It was stressful to have one eye on your child and another checking over your shoulder constantly. My bag always had snacks, a camera, and pepper spray. I spent a year teaching, learning, and bonding with my own child so tightly. The city felt like it belonged to us, and I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.
A young girl in a pink bike helmet and white sunglasses eats a snack.

Jutharat Pinyodoonyachet

The photo presents what keeps me sane during any difficult time in my life: a photo of my partner and an omamori charm from my sister. They are so meaningful to me because every time I feel lost, seeing these keepsakes reminds me that they will always be with me. Then I can handle everything with grace.
A corkboard holds a picture of a woman and a thumbtack from which hangs a mask and an omamori charm.

Geloy Concepcion

Arrival Date in America: 2017

The worst part of being an immigrant is the feeling of unfamiliarity to the places you were from and where you’re going to. Taking pictures of my life and my family helped me confront that reality.

A woman holds a child on a couch. Over top of the photograph are the words, “I take pictures to remind myself that I’m still here. Marra and Liberty. El Sobrante, CA.”

Lydia Ortiz

I lost my father this year. To heal myself and to distract myself from my grief, I went back to nature. I spent so much time retracing his footsteps, hiking in the rolling hills of the East Bay, in California. I always feel so peaceful out there, and I feel reunited with him. There, I was also reminded how small my pain is compared to the collective grief out there in the world.
An illustration of green mountains dotted with tiny cows and a blue stream. The mountains are shaped like two people lying down beside each other.

Jocelyn Tsaih

I am definitely still in the process of healing and figuring out ways to heal. Something that’s been helpful for me is being patient with myself and letting myself be more vulnerable. It’s been very cathartic and meditative to sit within my full spectrum of emotions while drawing, painting, and creating. The act of making this work is healing for me because it’s a language in which I know how to communicate my grief and melancholy.
A photo of trees in the background and a clothesline holding illustrations in the foreground. There are eight illustrations sewed together of a blue cartoon-like figure in various positions.

Arin Yoon

I began thinking of the history of discrimination against Asian Americans in the military. I looked again at the photo by Dorothea Lange of a Japanese American soldier and his mother in a strawberry field that her children leased for her so she wouldn’t have to work for anyone else. He has come to escort her to an internment camp after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. It is a heartbreaking photo. Stories like this one inspired me to take this photo of Alice Kim, in and out of uniform, examining what it means to serve and wear the uniform during a time of targeted hate and violence against Asian Americans.
A woman stands in the same position, with her arms folded, in two photos. In one, she is wearing jeans and a tank top. In the other, she is in uniform.

Brandy-Alia Serikaku

I removed myself from toxic relationships and returned to what I love, to what makes me believe. Instead of moving on, I stopped to feel and process my life and everything I was too busy to accept. I went back to the traditional healing practices that belong to my family, like Reiki, chanting, and prayer to help me process my hurt and pain. In doing so, I was able to share my truth and develop real connections with people, but, more importantly, be real with myself.

A white T-shirt with black letters reads, “Know Hawaiians. Know Hawai’i. No Hawaiians. No Hawai’i.”

Tony Luong

I have been thinking about how resilient children are. Our daughter was three at the time of the pandemic and hate crimes against Asians, and to her, it was simply a few months of getting to spend nonstop time with two of her most-favorite people, her parents. We embraced that as much as we could. Regardless of the pandemic, there were still snacks to be made and boo-boos to be fixed. I found solace in this routine. The sun will come up the next day and with that, being a parent also continues on.

stop asian hate

stop asian hate surged worldwide in March 2021, after the mass murder of Korean women in Atlanta brought attention to the ongoing racist attacks against Asian Americans.

A close-up of a woman kissing a young child.

Mengwen Cao

This year, I’m healing through looking inward and remembering who I am while staying connected with loved ones. Living in the United States during the pandemic as a queer Chinese immigrant can be stressful due to racism, homophobia, and xenophobia, but I refuse to internalize the hate. I know, deep down, we are all connected through love. When I extend compassion to myself, I can spread that to others. I’m grateful for a supportive community that consistently uplifts each other. They are my forever golden hour that highlights all the beauty and warmth.
Three people sit on a boulder in the woods, smiling at the viewer.

Ricardo Nagaoka

With the pandemic and the never-ending distance from my friends and family, I spent a lot of time in nature, something I’ve been close to but never seemed to have the time for. Strange as it seems to say in the context of our times, I found a peace within myself that I had never felt before. I lay on the dry grass, indicating that summer was nearing its end, looking up towards passing clouds, noticing roving winds passing through green canopies, like I was truly listening for the first time.
A black-and-white close-up of a person’s bare back, covered with indentations from grass and bits of dirt and grass.

Roopa Gogineni

My family douses my cousin in turmeric water in a traditional Telugu Hindu ceremony to prepare him for his wedding. Over the last year, the place I’ve most wanted to be, our ancestral village in India, has been painfully out of reach. We lost several family members to the second wave of the pandemic there. From a distance, we grieved, but we also celebrated marriages and births, and the rituals felt more meaningful than ever before.
Two people pour water over a bare-chested man’s head.
“Through food, music, and language, stories are exchanged and encouragement is cultivated. That is all I needed.”

Justin J Wee

It still doesn’t feel like we’re in a time of full reemergence, but I’ve been grateful for the little pockets of escape my chosen family and I have indulged in. In these moments of respite, I’ve been trying to focus on savoring the little things that bring a bit of ease back into my body. I’ve been working on internalizing the feeling of childlike joy, that sense of wonder for all things, no matter how insignificant they might seem. Witnessing the changing colors of the leaves, laying on grass before it goes away, picking fresh flowers and taking the time to arrange them.
A lake is surrounded by trees in fall foliage.

Hannah Yoon

In the past year, healing came in the most simple way: connecting with my family and friends through food, music, and language. I didn’t need anything extravagant or deep to ground me. Eating Korean food, listening to Korean music, and relearning the Korean language has been like a balm to my soul during times I felt frustrated, tired, or depleted. Through food, music, and language, stories are exchanged and encouragement is cultivated. That’s all I needed.
A sidewalk memorial with flowers, balloons, and Stop Asian Hate signs.

Mengwen Cao

(they/them)

Mengwen Cao is a photographer, artist, educator, and cultural organizer. Born and raised in China, they are currently based in New York. Their projects have been featured in publications like Aperture, The New York Times, NPR, Mashable, BUST, Foreign Policy, The Guardian, Sina, Tencent. They have participated in international exhibitions like Photoville, Jimei Arles, Lianzhou Foto Festival. They are currently the visuals editor at ChinaFile and the project manager at Magnum Foundation.

Geloy Concepcion

(he/him)

Geloy Concepcion is a photographer based in the San Francisco Bay Area. His current photographic works stem from experimentation in portraiture, drawing, street art, and life as a migrant Filipino in the U.S. He’s the creator of an Instagram-based project Things you wanted to say but never did.

Roopa Gogineni

(she/her)

Roopa Gogineni is a photographer and filmmaker based in Paris and Atlanta. For the past decade, she lived and worked in East Africa, focusing on stories of resistance.

Tony Luong

(he/him)

Tony Luong is a photographer based in Boston, Massachusetts. His work has been exhibited in Boston and New York and has appeared in various magazines such as The Atlantic, Bloomberg Businessweek, The New York Times, The New Yorker, TIME, among others.

Ricardo Nagaoka

(he/him)

Ricardo Nagaoka is a Japanese Latino artist, born and raised in Paraguay and a grandson of Japanese immigrants. He immigrated to Canada with his family and eventually landed in the U.S., where he makes work about the multiplicities of the home and their relationship to the self. Nagaoka has had his work published by The New York Times, M le Monde, The British Journal of Photography, and has been commissioned by The New York Times, The New Yorker, Rolling Stone, The California Sunday Magazine, The Atlantic, and VICE

Lydia Ortiz

(she/her)

Lydia Ortiz is an illustrator, designer, and art director living in the East Bay, California. Her work is playful and nostalgic, and is charged with oversaturated colors, abstract figures, and movement. She loves to strike the balance incorporating traditional media in her digital work.

Jutharat Pinyodoonyachet

(she/her)

Jutharat Pinyodoonyachet, known as Poupay, is currently working as a freelance photographer in New York City. With a keen passion for street photography, her approach is entirely direct while maintaining a fly-on-the-wall mindset. Poupay is a regular contributor to multiple New York–based publications.

Brandy-Alia Serikaku

(she/her)

A Hawaiian creative māmā, Brandy-Alia Serikaku works are Hawaiian expressions of art connecting time and space. Her artwork reframes and reclaims Hawaiian environments, playing on the multiple meanings within the Hawaiian language. From graphic design to painting murals, she is perpetuating and preserving the beauty of Hawaiʻi with a Hawaiian perspective.

Jocelyn Tsaih

(she/her)

Jocelyn Tsaih is a Taiwan-born, Shanghai-raised artist currently based in Oakland, California. She works across various mediums including digital illustration, painting, and murals.

Marcus Ubungen

(he/him)

A native of San Francisco, Marcus Ubungen turned to full-time directing in 2014. His last short film, Halloween Meets Gasoline, was staff-picked by Vimeo and screened at SXSW. Marcus is currently in production on a feature-length documentary, Beyond the Fields, following child boxers in rural Thailand.

Justin J Wee

(he/him)

Justin J Wee is a Malaysian-born Australian photographer, community chef, and Libran. His work seeks to create reflections of the world he knew his closeted teenage self wanted (but didn’t get) to see in media—a world where queerness doesn’t look homogenous, and people of color don’t have to trade in parts of their ethnicity in order to thrive.

Arin Yoon

(she/her)

Arin Yoon is a Korean American documentary photographer and visual artist based in the Kansas City area. She is a National Geographic Explorer, and her project To Be at War examines the social impacts of war and issues of representation affecting the military community. She is a We, Women Photo artist and a member of Women Photograph.

Hannah Yoon

(she/her)

Hannah Yoon is a Korean Canadian freelance photographer based in Philadelphia with a focus on portraiture, documentary, and photojournalism work. Her work has been published in The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, NPR, and other national publications. Yoon is a proud member of Women Photograph and Diversify Photo and is a founding board member of the Authority Collective.