When was around the time that you decided to come out to your family or rather if you did or did not?

Yeah, that's the real question. So I came out to my family when I was maybe 23, or 24. I was in my first relationship at that time. And I did it. I didn't recognize this at that time because I think this is also very common in the queer experience, where there's this scarcity mindset about finding somebody who wil love you and it being someone you're attracted to, and they’re also attracted to you as well. And so I think you don't recognize a lot of the ways in which a relationship is problematic or traumatic. I think it's a very common experience in the queer community. But yeah, my first relationship was very bad. But one of the things that she did [expressed was] that she felt invalidated that I wasn't out to my parents. Which, again, in retrospect, that's really kind of messed up. You should take your time and come out when you want to, but I really came out because of the person I was in a relationship with. And so I was really not ready to come out to my parents. But yeah, I came out to them together. And my older sister was there who knew. But I never even said the words I'm gay or, or I have a girlfriend, I never even said those words. I just told them I have something to tell you. And then I was really, really nervous. And that was making my mom really nervous. And then I was like, so, you know, that friend that I live with? And then my mom was like, “Are you telling me that you like that friend?” And I was like, “Yes.” And then my mom was like, “That happens sometimes.” And I was like, “Wait, what.” But at the same time, my mom in particular, was like, “I think you've been living on your own for too long; I think you need to come back home.” [Inferring that she did not] accept [me] coming out. I think she also just couldn't really process it. And my dad didn't really say anything about it. And yeah, that was like, I guess, eight or nine years ago now. And I basically left after we had that conversation. And we kind of have never directly addressed it, since. Which I think a lot of people are like, really shocked about because I [am the] creative director of this queer Asian Social Club. But I think that just like goes to show you that like, the coming out process is like, not easy for anyone. And I think particularly in that intersection of like, my Koreaness and, and my queerness [is that] I'm still afraid of [being able to] belong in both spaces. And yeah, I've been like trying to like tiptoe around the coming out. This last year, Everything Everywhere All At Once has been such an important movie as far as representation goes. [It] is truly the story of a queer Asian kid trying to be accepted by their parents. And I told my parents, like, “Can we watch this movie together?” And we'd never watch movies together. And so they kind of knew that there was something significant about this movie. And then we like, watched it together. And like, as soon as Jobu Tupaki jumps out and like her girlfriend is kissing her, [inside] I'm like, “Oh, my God, oh my God,” but like, not making eye contact [with my parents]. And [when] we finished the movie, I was [asked], “So did you… did you like it?” And my mom was like, “The beginning was confusing, but I understood the ending.” And then she like gave me a really big hug. I think that [that moment] goes to show you that the coming out experience is colored by this very white American lens of, like, Mom, I'm gay. But just doesn't translate that easily in our relationships [between] Korean American people. And so I think for me, I’m still in process [of coming out] and currently [I’m] in a relationship that is like the first relationship where I'm thinking about bringing this person home and introducing them as someone I want to build a life with. But that's something I'm still grappling with and taking my time to make sure I feel safe to do that, which I think is very important. But I have a lot of hope.

Do you think that Koreatown as a whole is also an inclusive speech for the LGBTQIA community?

I think it's hard for me to separate Koreatown from Koreans; in general, I do think Koreatown as a general community is more accepting of queerness than Koreans are accepting of queerness. But I think Koreatown is very interesting because it's obviously changing so rapidly, and Koreatown itself is such a diverse community in all the different ways of diversity, and so it's really exposing a lot of the Korean community to diversity, to meeting queer people, [and] to interacting with queer people. And so I think Koreatown as a whole and Koreans as a whole are like slowly moving towards being more accepting and inclusive of queer people and LGBTQ people.

What's your connection with the neighborhood? Do you work in the area? Do you live there?

Yeah, so I, I moved to Koreatown maybe almost two years ago now. And I lived for a long time, kind of near the Larchmont village area. But I started taking these Korean dance classes that are in Koreatown like two years ago, and again, like with COVID, and the pandemic happening, I felt the need to immerse myself in my Koreness and my Korean identity. And so I literally moved to Korea Town to be closer to my creativeness and to be closer to the Korean community and to feel Korean. 

What is your most significant memory of Koreatown?

I think my most significant memory of Koreatown is the community I've had with the Korean dance group I take classes with. They're mostly a community of Koreans of like my mom's age and older, and they're all like, I call them unni’s (언니–  used to call a female friend or a female sibling who's older than you), but like they're definitely imo’s (이모– used to call a female individual who is considerably older than you). And again, I never even grew up around like family other than my parents, really, so being around these Imo’s and just like witnessing the ways that they like [to] bring Kimbap (김밥– Korean cuisine made from cooked rice, vegetables, fish, and meat rolled in gim—dried sheets of seaweed—and served in bite-sized slices). back to class and sharing it with everybody was so like, warm; also, being [in] an environment where Korean is primarily spoken and like feeling very kind of like, scared and shy to go into those spaces because I didn't feel like my Korean was ever like good enough to be in those spaces. But [overall], really feeling that kind of like homeland love is really what I associate with my time in Koreatown.

Do you find that Imo’s and individuals that are older than you find it easier or more difficult to accept your queer identity?

Yeah, it's been really interesting being in this space with older Korean folks who really have almost no overlap into the queer, queer community, except I really suspect that most of their kids are somewhere in the queer spectrum. But yeah, it's a space that like, I think a lot of queer folks feel afraid to go into. And I think a lot of Korean American queer identifying kids feel afraid to go home. Because because there doesn't really seem room for Koreaness and queerness to exist in the same space, it's, it kind of feels like your queerness is like a secret that you should keep under the rug. And so I think it's been really interesting because I'm so out in the other spaces I'm in, especially in Los Angeles. It was very strange for me to go into this space where I did kind of feel for my own safety, the need to be a little bit more closeted. And so I think that's something that I'm like, still kind of like grappling with is finding the courage to just like, be out and fully [be] myself in those spaces, because I would get questions like, “Oh, do you have a boyfriend? Oh, are you married? Do you have a husband?” And I [am] just like, “No, no.” But at the same time, I've been really trying to allow room for myself to be surprised by the capacity that these imo’s. and that the older Korean generation has for accepting queerness, um, because I also run creation Social Club. We had these like beginning workshops at the Korean dance studio that I dance at. And I did a lot of kind of like, cross-promotion. And because my community is so queer, a lot of queer folks came into the space. And I saw people who are like non binary presenting, and I saw the ways that these emails were so kind and welcoming to people who were, like, very visibly queer. And it gave me a lot of hope that even if this is difficult, even if this is something that they struggle to understand, or if this is something that they would struggle to accept in, for example, like their own children, that, that for the most part, I think that I think they want to be loving, I think they want to be welcoming to people, and especially for [the] Korean traditional dance [which is] an art form that needs people to continue to carry on that culture. And so the love of the culture almost like goes above any other identities. And I think that's been really, really sweet to witness and experience. 

How do you feel like the dance group you previously mentioned may have impacted you as an artist?

Yeah, so I've been, I've been, I started taking dance classes, contemporary dance classes, probably like when I was 25. But I've always believed that dance in particular, is, is a totally different way to process and express your emotions other than visual art. And I had not grown up dancing at all. And so it was astounding to experience this as an adult, [having] to experience an emotion and a story through my body. So, translating that to Korean traditional dance, I think it also goes on a whole other level, like connecting to my creativity and connecting to my ancestors. Because there are some moments where, like, the movements are just so particular that, like, you can't help but imagine, like, the great ancestor who was like a Kisaeng (기생– enslaved women from outcast or enslaved families who were trained to be courtesans), like a courtesan [who had] a past life [and was] performing this [dance] at the palace courtyard. And like, I think there's like very few opportunities in life where you can feel that like ancestral like movement[s] alongside your [own] movement. And I feel that in classes and in performances, and I think I feel my creativeness through my dance. 

What sparked your initial interest in dancing?

I think as a[n] artistic and visual person, I've always really appreciated dance, it's just always, looked so beautiful, and has this kind of, like, ease and breadth. And I think when you see someone expressing and emoting an emotion so passionately and so freely, we can't help but admire it. And I think a lot of my friends from college are dancers, so I think it was really with their encouragement that they were like, just try it. And I think it was really because I wanted to feel that intensity myself. And I wanted to know what that was like, so I really started getting into dance.

How do you think the accepting nature of your dance community will impact the growth of the queer community in Koreatown going forward?

I really see Korea Town becoming more and more queer. Because I think the world is becoming more and more queer. And I think there are more people who are being courageous enough to be their full selves to be out and proud and to be clearly visible, visibly clear. To be fully visibly queer that other people are able to see that, “Oh, they're accepted into these spaces, I actually never thought that queerness could be accepted into those spaces.” And so more and more people start to feel brave to be more and more themselves. And that's also really what I hope to do. And the impact I hope to make. And specifically [in] Korean, queer-identifying spaces and communities is to be, yeah, to be a leader in the sense of be[ing] a visibly queer person in very Korean spaces where I'm scared that [queerness] is not accepted [t]here, but to to be myself and to be brave, no matter what.

As you became to publicly address your queerness, who or what was your support system which allowed yourself to feel comfortable in acknowledge your identity?

Yeah, I would definitely say my friends are my support system in, in myself, learning to accept my queerness. I think is really important to come out to people who you feel safe to come out to who you feel like 99% certain that they're going to still love you and accept you. And I think, you know, especially in America, like the friends you have, who are around your age, definitely feel much safer than like your parents or anyone of the older generation. And my friends have always been super, super supportive of me. Didn't even really blink an eye when I came out to them. And yeah, they've just been my chosen family. And they've been there for me through so much. And they really made me feel like my queerness is nothing to ever be ashamed of, and they gave me a lot of strength and courage to come out to more and more [of the] world.

Were your parents religious growing up and did their potentinal religious upbringings impact how you saw your own queerness growing up?

My parents are perhaps the only Korean American[s] of their generation who are not religious. I did not grow up with Korean Christianity, which I know is like a very uncommon experience and I think also really impacts why it's really really hard for Korean-identifying folks to grapple with their queerness, but I feel odd very, like lucky that [that] was a component and maybe that is why I was able to even have [a] concept of my own queerness at an earlier age than a lot of Koreans of my generation. I think there are a lot of [people who are] late in life people who realize their queerness from the Korean community.

How do you think that people can be better community allies? 

I think as a queer person, I really wish that there [were] more spaces and opportunities to know that [there] is a safe space before like having to risk coming out and like testing the water of like, “Is this a safe space?” I think that's the same thing with identifying pronouns, and that being like a very like standard thing now; “Hi, my name is Jamie Issuh, she/they pronouns.” It's not that I feel like my pronouns are not particularly like important to me, but by like setting the ground that saying my pronouns allows people who feel nervous and scared or anxious to say their pronouns or identify as anything other than from the binary, they feel safer, too. Because that's been set as a precedent. But I feel like for queerness, I think there are a lot of spaces where, like, maybe it's actually safe for me to come out. But the opportunity is never like presented. It's just like very unspoken. And so my instinct is that it's not safe for me to come out. And I think this is like, particularly in like, Korean spaces, or like, with my parents, I wish they would just ask me, like, “Are you queer? If you are, it's okay.” But yeah, I think that like, it would be helpful for allies to kind of set the stage of, like, this is a safe and welcoming space, this is inclusive, more often, I think, would be really helpful. 

Are there any community spaces where you haven't felt accepted because of your queerness?

I think it's the Korean spaces. I'm not sure if I'm not accepted for my queerness. But I feel afraid to express my queerness in Korean spaces. And a lot of that is really just, again, like not being able to see other folks who identify as queer and who are visibly queer. And so I think when you don't see anyone like yourself in that space, you don't know if it's safe for you to be your full queer self.

What advice would you give to queer youth growing up in Koreatown right now?

My advice to queer youth growing up in Koreatown right now would be to take your time to be patient with yourself and with the people around you. There's really no pressure to come out sooner rather than later. And I think I think working on loving yourself and accepting yourself in all of your multiple identities is really, really, really significant. And like, I think also finding the community that accept[s] you and love[s] you for who you are, is really, really important. And I think that's the most important thing as far as having strength and mental health because there [are] a lot of hard parts about being queer and being Korean. I just want the youth to know that they're so loved and that [they] can take [their] time and like [they] can explore [their] own identities on [their] own time.