I traveled to the heart of the epidemic one day in July to find out for myself what kind of peril we’re in.
There are so many people who are invisible to us, and I think that its important to realize that the girl who runs the egg-cakes cart, she has dreams too, she has a future too, she has a past as well.
The applications have been streaming in for our next round of Open City fellows. If you’re an emerging Asian American writer, consider applying and help spread the word about this wonderful opportunity…
I often tagged along with my grandparents down the aisles of Chinese supermarkets. While Grandma stuck to purchasing standard items like Saltines or milk to add to her morning coffee, Grandpa knew the secrets of the dried, preserved goods and vegetables tucked away into the stores’ dusty corners.
Alex is a skinny teenager with shaggy black hair – almost like a Beatles cut. He comes here all the time, just to play this game.
No showering, no going outside, no drinking cold water–for an entire month. Many women in mainland China observe these rules as part of a traditional health care practice following childbirth.
I know that you’ve had some tough times the past few years. People have called to ban you, to oust you from the kitchen…
About a decade ago, the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene (DOH) began to puzzle over a strange and disturbing sight: whole, roasted ducks, hanging by their necks in the windows of Manhattan’s Chinatown.
“He could’ve walked into Harlem and everybody knew ‘im. He could walk into Spanish Harlem, everybody knew him. The gangsters knew him and respected him because he stood up to them…”
Visitors to the address would have found an entirely different scene ten or fifteen years ago. Before it was a fashion headquarters, the building was a garment factory…
“Once we printed Chinese upside-down and nobody knew it. That was embarrassing!”
We both remembered the fashion house’s Van Gogh jacket with its exquisite hand-embroidered jewel toned flowers, but it was Mary, who, without a heartbeat, recalled the year, telling the archivist to pull from the 1988 collection.
In the center of the plaza stands a bronze, 15-foot statue of the Chinese sage…In its shadow, a woman with a visor and clipboard is selling shuttle tickets to Foxwoods Casino.
An illustrated dispatch.
“My strength is writing about Chinese people and dirtbags, and Chinese dirtbags.”
Community organizers distributed supplies and canvassed buildings for two days before FEMA showed up to offer aid.
For outer borough residents and the linguistically isolated, the future is less clear.
If the grocery store is going to be saved, it will need to happen now.
Same place, different time.
John Clang’s “Beijing New York” is a product of some good old-fashioned cut and paste.
The scarlet tonic is often portrayed as the city’s modern-day moonshine. The reality? It barely counts as booze.
A photo essay.
After 45 years as a parking lot, the Seward Park Extension Urban Renewal Area will be developed to include mixed-income housing. So why are some advocates crying foul?
Perhaps the air conditioner was broken. Perhaps there was no air conditioner.
The lone male remains the archetype of migrant labor, despite the changing facts on the ground.
“It’s warfare against Chinese companies.”
I checked out a space on Catherine and Madison, thinking that a Chinatown address would at least appease my dad.
Where New Yorkers collide. For better or for worse.