10 Years in the U.S.

My name is Yee Eun Nam, and I came to the United States for an MFA in theater design. I don’t think I fully understood what it would mean to study and live in a foreign country, having family 15 hours away, across the ocean, and on different continents. My first year at school was like being in a video game with the wrong language patch installed. If I didn’t know what I wanted to say in English, I was ignored and was told by a professor that my acceptance into school was a mistake. I was confused and miserable at that time.

My second year and third years went really fast. I was focused on how to blend into the world. I hate parties but went to a couple and had no idea what to do. I sat for hours not talking to anyone. I also came up with an easier name for them to pronounce.

My fourth year in the U.S., I was finally in the “real” world after graduation. As a freelancer, it was like being in “The Hunger Games.” I had to take as many projects as possible within one year. I said “yes” to everyone. I learned a lot but also started to question to myself about how to live in the U.S. as a foreigner: “Do I need to be like an American to live in the US?”

I never knew how Asian I was until I got here. But in the US, things started to get mixed up. I was expected to act like an American. I was expected to be nice and kind like Asian girls. Do I want to be an American? Does my accent need to be fixed? How should I react to racist comments? How to explain that Asia is not one country? So many questions for years, but I never knew the answers.

Time passed and by my eighth year, I had become “that Asian designer” doing American shows.

As a designer, I always do intensive research to make everything right. They usually become ten page reports or hundreds of files. I thought everyone was doing it. Unfortunately, people tend to be insensitive when they do shows about minorities. Many times I was told to create western versions of Asian fantasies and was lectured about “oriental.”

One day, when white theater makers continued to simplify Asian culture without historically accurate depictions, I saw my assistant’s face. She was a young, Asian American and looked down with no words, while the artistic director was talking about how he didn’t understand why we were so picky and didn’t want to use a prop he liked from the wrong country. That moment was a wake-up call for me. If I didn’t speak up and stop these inaccurate cultural depictions, this would continue to happen. So, finally I said that as long as I was the designer, I wouldn’t put the wrong design onstage because I knew it was wrong. And I became the “grumpy Asian designer” for the rest of the process.

It was not easy for me to speak up, as a young designer, in the early part of my career. I didn’t want to lose jobs and was not sure if the world was ready for change. That’s when I met Cha, Kimie, and Rodrigo, as well as 60 other artists through See Lighting Foundation¹. I had never gotten to know other immigrant designers who had gone through the same struggles and shared the same thoughts in our theater community. They have built a community where I finally feel safe to share my feelings and thoughts, which is a big relief during this pandemic. I am so proud to be a part of this group of artists. So next year, which will be my ten year anniversary, I hope we can celebrate safely, continue raising our voices, and share ideas to continue to work and build a better theater industry for the future.