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syupeo June 2021 | Kaya Press

syupeo This special magazine, syupeo, a project curated by Kaya Press, features the work of Asian American writers inspired by their ordinary Asian supermarket. Growing up in the Bay Area, I used to go to Hankook Supermarket every Sunday afternoon after church. I still remember the extra packets of gim (salted dried seaweed) that the cashier would give to us for free, the bouncy sugar-coated kkwabaegi, and the satisfying udon from the pop-up restaurant. Supermarkets are the epitome of the mundane. Everyone has been to one. Everyone knows the aisles of their most frequently attended supermarket like the back of their hand. However, at the moment, Asian American representation is anything but ordinary. Many forms of media emphasize the over-achieving or exotic Asian stereotype, and only in the past year, with films like Minari, are we reaching a point where everyday life can be explored from the Asian American perspective. I believe that the journey towards Asian American representation will be wholeheartedly complete when we can watch a commercial of an Asian American family eating dinner or going to the supermarket and not think twice about the race of that family on screen. That being said, I hope that you enjoy this magazine and its efforts towards an ordinary and hopeful representation of the Asian American experience.

"The Korean Store" by Chazz Hannah The guitar screaming in my hands has always been my only plan for getting out of this town and a sweet suburban death. But I stumbled around in the dark of introspection’s lonely park and found you there, on holiday with warmth in your laugh. Oh, baby, it’s about dinner time Let’s go out to the Korean store and hold hands in line

"The Korean Store" by Chazz Hannah Coming here used to be a drag, I’d see the boys and girls playing the parts that I dreamt for us in love in a perfect world. My cold hands would reach for bags of noodles cloaked in MSG and I’d try to ignore the reminders I couldn’t help but see. But, oh, baby, now you’re here with me, No makeup at the Korean store, picking out kimchi

"The Korean Store" by Chazz Hannah Now we’re home and Enka plays on the phonograph. We cook and dance and tell rude jokes and all we do is laugh. In a moment of silence I catch my breath and reflect on our day. You smile the way you do at me, I never thought it’d be this way. Oh, baby, you’ve changed everything Late night runs to the Korean store with you set me free

"Untitled" by Christina Ta Entering the sliding doors, a wave of nostalgia washes over me Bright hues of red and yellow, of boxed lychee and mangoes I smile brightly, let it press

"In the Asian Aisle" by Sanghoon Oh Where else would I find the language of my people? Where else would I belong, but a single aisle of the store in line with the products on sale? It is here, only here, that I can revive the hands of my grandmother. Her palm lines matches mine as a pair of hands revive tastes my tongue has forgotten the names of.

"In the Asian Aisle" by Sanghoon Oh Here, I find for sale foods foreign to me but familiar to others. Foods that orient one to see the shared genus despite disparate geist. They are intermixed In ways borders are not. They too are expats from their countries of origin, yet find themselves at home to be taken home.

"In the Asian Aisle" by Sanghoon Oh But even these foods in place find themselves misplaced by products displaced. Products from around the store take up space, pushing aside those native to the shelves. The butter does not belong in between Lao Gan Ma and Sriracha.

"Not a Palengke" by Kaira Ray Villanueva Another twist of a bagoong jar that I cannot open. I sink down as a passenger in a shopping cart. I am not in a palengke. But there is a strip of frozen longanisa reserved for a tongue like mine, splintered from the wall of mouths opened like lard waiting for the conveyor to cash their bodies like receipts. I am not in a palengke. But there is a bottle of Jufran sauce colored red to thrive like ketchup and I can taste the bananas, their browned fibers slush through my teeth like a a lost traveler. I am not in a palengke. But there is a sign that says BAWAL ANG SHOP LIFTERS respected by wallets fat enough to lift the weight of their stomachs against a hungry conscience. I am in a grocery store.

Grocery Lists from friends of the editor orn c d n a ab r c k r n o ,p atio t i udon m i gs, ef e n i l b , p k dum han bok , s s f e e l , be ood n e c stick i r ter s t y a l o f , s, auce s bone u i as h c , y cho s m o o r mush

, 치 김 부 두 , 부 ion 두 t a 순 t , i 파 prouts, im , 김, 살, s , 불고기, 오뎅 치 멸 crab , 늘 ,마 떡 , 두 만 ,

1. any thing on sa 2. any le thing close expira to tion d ate 3. ram yeon 4. kim chi 5. sea weed 6. rad ish 7. ses ame o il

Contributors Chazz Hannah is an Asian-American UCLA student studying English and AsianAmerican Studies as an undergraduate. His dream is to produce a multi-media body of work incorporating literature, music and film that authentically reflects Asian-America as it is today. He is currently working on a novel that seeks to comedically destroy the model-minority myth and accurately reflect AsianAmerican life in the modern era. Ashley Kim is a Korean-American Kaya Press intern and writer located in California. She is a student at the University of California, Los Angeles, majoring in Cognitive Science and minoring in Asian American Studies. syupeo is her first publication as creator and editor. Her poetry and short stories have appeared or are forthcoming in Hyphen Magazine, Autofocus, and FEED, among others. Find her on Twitter @ashlogophile. Soli deo gloria! Based in Los Angeles, Sydney LaCom is an Asian American illustrator and music teacher. After graduating from UCLA with a BA in Music Education, Sydney launched her art business, through which she has continued to refine her style. Find her and #shopsmall on Instagram @seeneescribbles! Sanghoon Oh is a Korean-Canadian-American currently based in California. A recipient of the Canadian Graduate Scholarship, Sanghoon will be attending the MA program in English at University of Toronto this upcoming fall. Sanghoon takes inspiration from a wide range of periods and styles, primarily European Romantics and Modernists, poets in the Korean independence movement, and the philosophical writings of Martin Heidegger and Jacques Derrida. Kygomei (Kaira Villanueva) is a Filipino-American multimedia artist, weaving together narratives through visual and aural mediums. She is interested in liminal spaces that explore the boundaries of predefined concepts of artistic practices, and pushing that to represent marginalized ideas or groups. Christina Ta was born and raised in San Jose, CA, and she enjoys spending her time reading, singing and embroidering. Occasionally, she goes on long drives on PCH.