ISSUE NO. 5: The Words Made Flesh | Theresa Hak Kyung Cha
“...time’s own shadow, part ache / ake...”
ARCHIVIST’S NOTE
“I have the documents. Documents, proof, evidence, photograph, signature. One day you raise the right hand and you are American. They give you an American Pass port. The United States of America. Somewhere someone has taken my identity and replaced it with this photograph. The other one. Their signature their seals. Their own image.” —Theresa Hak Kyung Cha 차학경 (March 4, 1951, 1915–November 5, 1982), Dictée
Dear Readers,
It’s 1 May 2025. In the United States of America, today marks the first day of Asian American Native Hawaiian Pacific Islander Month. AANHPI. Yesterday, 30 April 2025, was the 50 year anniversary of the end of the war in Việt Nam. I spent yesterday quietly—as quietly as possible for a mom to three young children—and sorted through old photos of my big, beautiful, and complex Vietnamese family, studied photos by An-My Lê from her first book, Small Wars (2005), and re-read a favorite essay by Ocean Vuong from 2014 entitled The Weight of Our Living: On Hope, Fire Escapes and Visible Desperation.
I am letting the pages of this incredible heart-grief-joy art piece do the talking, writing, weeping—communicating—for ISSUE NO. 5: The Words Made Flesh: Theresa Hak Kyung Cha. I did not edit any of the photos. The radiant sunshine from the window warmed the book and that feeling should be left as-is. (I could not include the entire book because of Substack’s limit.) It is a book I’ve been chasing for almost a decade. A wondrous compilation of love letters, poetry, photos, and art by Theresa’s loved ones, published in November 1983, to honor her life. I am grateful that nowadays you can simply Google Theresa Hak Kyung Cha and learn so much about her. When I first discovered her work as an undergrad in 1999 at a (then) small-ish liberal arts college in Texas, it was like moving mountains, mountains comprised of canisters of microfiche, to uncover absolutely nothing, at times.
At a time when many issues are direly in need of our attention, support, and protestation, I am so grateful that you are here. Thank you to everyone has already contributed—you are my big nudge to keep going, and going. If this work has compelled or held you in any way, please consider chipping in with a paid subscription. Happy real spring, finally!
♡
Doris
P.S. There is a very new piece I’m adding to the archive from 26 April 2025 from Hua Hsu. You can see it on my latest post on IG.
ARCHIVE NO. 8, Vol. 1: THERESA HAK KYUNG CHA 차학경 (March 4, 1951–November 5, 1982)
