ISSUE NO. 1: The Beginning | Fay Chiang
"Don't call it a comeback, I been here for years."
If you’ve been following since 2016, I’m so happy and grateful that you’re here. If you’re new, welcome! Thank you for your support and interest in East and Southeast Asian women’s stories and legacies. Joan Chen is back in Dìdi, Connie Chung is back with her memoir, and 17.21 WOMEN is back—on Substack. Now, we just need the great Maggie Cheung to come out of retirement. (Side note: we’ve made bootleg merch of both Joan and Connie, but not Maggie—yet.)
I will keep this first newsletter open and free for a couple of weeks as an introduction and a peek into what some of these editions will look like. The format and content will vary, but there will always be at least one extraordinary woman illuminated at the end of each newsletter. Please consider switching over to a paid account (less than the cost of a New York slice of bánh bò nướng per month) if you find this work—this research, this writing, this time—important, resonant, and valuable. Infinite gratitude and love to all of our paid subscribers and founding members. This work simply cannot continue without you.
Funds from paid subscriptions will be used toward the physical space located in Brooklyn. Unbeknownst, or maybe beknownst to you, I opened up New York City’s first stand-alone Vietnamese American bakery, Bạn Bè, in 2020. In June of this year, I made the decision to close down window service after five years of working, baking (and aching)—non-stop. I recently resolved (on Monday night) to transform the bakery into a food space and archive/library for 17.21. I’m excited to expand and nurture this archive with the utmost—uttermost!—attention and tender care. As you commune, discover, read, research, and rest in this (near future) space, I hope that it gently but firmly compels you into motion.
THE BEGINNING
As a very long-term goal, I dream about establishing an institute and archive that houses a collection of East and Southeast Asian ephemera, a non-circulating library where people could easily access historical documents and information that may have fallen through the cracks. It would also continue to record and preserve history through action and events at or related to the archive center. A comprehensive online database would accompany it as well.“
An excerpt from an old interview I did in 2017. Seven years later, we are here.
Let’s rewind.
What is 17.21 WOMEN?
17.21 WOMEN is a digital and physical counter-archive of East and Southeast Asian trailblazers whose legacies have been obscured by traditional history-telling. I have been collecting and archiving ephemera since I was a teenager—catalyzed, radicalized—by the one-and-only Yuri Kochiyama. I came up with the name 17.21 WOMEN twenty years later, in 2016, when I decided, urgently, that I needed to combat the chaos festering at the time. Putrescence, still. 17.21 represents the 17.21 million square miles that cover the continent of Asia. My archive focuses specifically on East and Southeast Asian women’s history.
Who is the caretaker of this archive?
I’m Doris Hồ-Kane (she/her), a proud daughter of refugees; Vietnamese boat people. I was born and raised in Texas, a teen punk archivist, and moved to New York City in 2001 to attend art school. I am the owner and baker behind Bạn Bè, NYC’s first Vietnamese American bakery, as well as a historian, archivist, and the founder of 17.21 WOMEN. Before focusing on baking and archiving, I worked for over 15 years in the fashion industry as an apparel designer, buyer, creative consultant, and stylist. I am currently writing my manuscript.
During my time on Instagram, many had asked me about my background, specifically whether or not I have a degree in Asian American studies or gender studies. “Why are you qualified to run this account?” Some had unfollowed me and had discounted my work after learning that I have a fine arts degree and worked in the fashion industry for over a decade. One of the central reasons why I started 17.21 WOMEN: I wasn't seeing enough East and Southeast Asian faces that were being accurately or fairly represented. I wanted to revivify important history that had been buried and marginalized by a narrow, patriarchal, imperialist lens. I am not an expert on Asian women's history nor do I have a master's degree or Ph.D. in anything pertinent. I care about every story I've uncovered and I treat each woman's narrative with kindness and love and I hope that it shows.
Now, onto the first edition of the archive! A big, but ever incomplete taste. I’m constantly excavating. Passing the shovel to you, always—dig, dig, dig.
ARCHIVE NO. 1, VOL. NO. 1: FAY CHIANG (January 27, 1952–October 20, 2017)
I began posting to Instagram on December 17, 2016. An image of the singular Yoko Ono, a flier designed by Yoko, photo by Minoru Niizuma, 1961.
This time around, I want to start a bit more locally, and where my brain and heart are pulsing, beating, and bursting lately. Building, bleeding—the primordial ooze that seeps from this archive. As someone who has lived more than half of her life in NYC, I feel like a true blue (honorary, truly) New Yorker.
On October 20, 2017, two months after I had put together research on Basement Workshop for an indie publication, Fay Chiang, a pivotal, poetic member of Basement Workshop, passed away. In 2004, she wrote:
“Beyond the working class immigrant generation’s basic needs of clothing, shelter for survival, I believe culture is the psychological weapon for the survival of our future generations. Culture allows us to remember; to create the means to express those difficult, as well as most joyful and celebratory, of life’s experiences. Culture allows us to dream, to envision what is possible.”
“We were influenced by what was happening in the Black and Puerto Rican communities. Why not us? Who are we? It was very basic: Who are we? There was a hunger, a need to figure that out, where we felt like it was a matter of life and death. The second and third generation Japanese Americans had come from the camps—and this feeling of not belonging in the society, racism, and displacement was visceral.” —Fay Chiang, poet, visual artist, activist, and director of
Basement Workshop
Basement Workshop (1970–1986) was an Asian American collective of politically active, radical (and not-as-radical) artists based in Manhattan’s Chinatown. They published Bridge magazine, which gave a voice to the Asian American community. They provided creative arts programs, language courses, and citizenship classes, and were the catalyst for many likeminded organizations that followed (Godzilla Asian American Arts Network, Asian American Arts Centre, Asian American Dance Theater, among others).
I look to grassroots communities and organizations from this time, as inspiration and impetus. In my 23 years here, I lived and worked near all three former locations of Basement Workshop (54 Elizabeth Street, 22 Catherine Street, and 199 Lafayette Street). Historical landmarks, in my opinion.
If you read all the way through, thank you so much! I am tremendously excited to revive the archive here, and in-person, soon.
Here’s a fun bonus, and a mini fundraiser for our space in Brooklyn: I had printed these large ☯︎ 17.21 ☯︎ stickers in 2020 and recently found a small stack in storage. Creating new ephemera as part of the archive is delightful. If you’d like one and would love another way to support the new space, you can do so here.
Sincerely,
Doris, your friendly anarchivist ♡
Proud of you, Doris. <3