Space for EVRyone: Introducing Monica Wat

Monica Wat is a multidisciplinary artist in music, film, theatre, creative writing and more. Hailing from Hong Kong, she is currently based in Bristol and London. She is also the founder of the East and South East Asian community arts festival MOON FEST and the creative collective Made on the Moon.

1.       What is your heritage?

I am of Hong Kong heritage, and, more broadly, I also identify as being East Asian.

2.       What reflections and experiences have led you to speak out about anti-ESEA hate?

When I first arrived in the UK two years ago, it was a rude awakening. I had always thought, idealistically – Britain and Hong Kong are close enough, considering the colonial history, isn’t it? And, I knew the concept of racism, of course, but it felt distant and dated – something I read about in novels or the news; when I witnessed it personally, it was unfortunately with my friends of ethnically minoritised heritages in Hong Kong. I acknowledge that is my privilege of growing up in Hong Kong and looking like the ‘majority’ of people there.

In the UK, there were times when I was confused by certain experiences, which I later learnt to conceptualise as microaggressions. For example, in my first week of my exchange year at Bristol University, among a group of students who had been in Bristol for over two years, a white British student asked only me if I knew of the ‘oriental supermarket’ nearby. I was a newcomer with absolutely no clue. I looked around, slightly anxiously – I was the only East and South East Asian-looking person. There was a small voice that doubted, do I not know my culture well enough? Why do I have to be associated with everything ‘Asian’? Why did she only ask me? For a while, I subconsciously avoided Asian supermarkets, as if I could avoid being stereotyped.

During Lunar New Year, I was pan-frying the traditional brown sugar rice cakes, and a

flatmate asked me why I was pan-frying ‘fudge’. I believe he asked the question innocently, but at that moment, I felt alienated and different, like I was cooking something that my British peers could not make sense of.

An equally conflicting experience was watching the Dragon Boat Festival race at the Bristol harbourside. My friends and I were the only Asian-looking people there, and we were gawked at like we were outsiders at our very own traditional festival. This year, I visited the Festival again, this time determined to find out more. When I interviewed participants and organisers randomly, no one could detail the origin or the context of the festival. One organiser even said that the traditional festival had ‘evolved’ to be like the one they were organising, completely detached from its cultural community and origin. At first, I felt oddly hopeful that there was at least some form of Asian traditional celebration in Bristol, but then, incredibly, inexplicably disoriented as I walked home. I have come to identify that event as cultural appropriation.

There were also numerous occasions where I was passed over at creative events and opportunities, as if I was invisible, at once ‘fair-skinned’ and not the politically ‘correct’, or ‘trending’ underrepresented group that institutions focus on: I would find out again and again that some so-called inclusive programmes only welcome ‘black and brown’ creatives, or that the term ‘Asians’ is usually used to refer to ‘South Asians’. I at once understand the importance of the causes but also wonder if it must be so mutually exclusive. What am I then? Am I not even Asian in the UK? That was a disconcerting notion since I grew up in Asia and have always identified as being ‘Asian’.

Not to mention the countless racist assaults I have experienced on the streets, from being harassed by people making animalistic sounds, saying gibberish that generically mimic Asian languages to the classic ‘ni haos’. One time, when it wasn’t even dark yet, I was followed by a drunken man and was nearly trapped in a tunnel by him; he was also yelling slurs at me. Perhaps even more horrifying was the scattered laughter and nonchalant observation of onlookers, none of them Asian-looking. Almost immediately, I called On Your Side, the ESEA hate-crime hotline service and the police. Some people remarked, you shouldn’t have walked there; you should have gone home earlier. Yet, walking the streets safely is a basic human right.

3.       What does antiracism mean to you?

I reckoned with all the accumulated experiences throughout the year, and the floodgate of anger broke open – I had to do something about it. Antiracism to me is often channelling my anger towards this injustice into meaningful action. My first projects were visual creations: a music video about me uprooting my life from Hong Kong to Bristol, followed by a dark comedic short film called ASSIMILATION about me assimilating into the UK by eating baked beans and meal deals, also referencing my lived experiences, like the ‘why are you pan- frying fudge’ moment.

Last summer, hoping to meet more East and South East Asian community members and creatives, I decided to organise a community arts festival called MOON FEST in Bristol. The concept of the festival was also inspired by my childhood, when I would celebrate the traditional Moon Festival with my beloved uncle and grandmother until they passed away two years ago; I spent my first Moon Festival in the UK I spent in solitude, not having any mfriends yet. On a brighter note, similar traditions are celebrated around the same time across East and South East Asian cultures, including Chuseok, Tsukimi, Tết Trung Thu and Uposatha of Ashvini. I felt that this could symbolise our solidarity and connection with each other among the diverse ESEA cultures too. The season for these traditions also coincides with ESEA Heritage Month, so it was meant to be, I thought. Organising a festival like that without much blueprint and funding was very stressful at times, but the MOON FEST day was so surreal – almost magical – that I knew it was worth it. I could feel the heart-warming energy inspiriting the entire theatre as hundreds of ESEA community members and respectful allies gathered together to celebrate our creativity, from music, films, artworks, handcrafts to delicious food. To me, it was also a day of healing, like a glimpse of moonlight after perpetual rainstorms.

I have since developed the initiative into the creative production collective Made on the Moon, with the help of several team members. I started MOON FEST because I could not find a space for myself and ESEA creatives in Bristol. Ironically, I feel the burn of backfire since then: sometimes youth and cultural organisations see me as this ‘model minority’ girl to be doing well already without needing their opportunities. I could sense it in their glances, and in their feedback – ‘you already have an arts festival’, ‘you seem to be privileged and doing well’. But, knowing myself, I won’t stop my community endeavours because of that. MOON FEST took place again on September 24 this year, hopefully welcoming even more people. We are also organising smaller-scale events like a Dragon Boat Fest celebration in June, and most recently a community screening of the Korean-American film Past Lives with our local independent cinema Watershed. I may say, anti-racist activism is also my coping mechanism.

4.       What is your favourite thing about your heritage?

In a way, heritage is a confusing concept. My grandparents did flee from China to a city pretty much urbanised by the British government, but they never had a strong, explicit sense of ‘Chinese heritage’; they were fixated on safety and survival. I celebrate Moon Festival as much as I celebrate Christmas. Growing up, I enjoyed my grandmother’s and uncle’s double-stewed soup as much as tiramisu made by my Italian Catholic family friend; as a young adult, I loved frequenting my Nepalese-Hong Kong friends’ momo takeaway as much as the egg tart and pineapple bun bakery. So perhaps my favourite thing about my Hong Kong heritage is its multi-cultural fluidity – that it is impossible to pin it down to one thing, and that has made me who I am.

5.       What are your hopes for the future?

In Bristol, I hope that we can foster a space where ESEA friends can gather and be there for each other. In the wider UK, I really look forward to more cross-organisation collaborative efforts now that many groups and initiatives have sprouted beautifully across the map. I think there are many common threads worth exploring, for example, at this stage of organising, how do we move forward in terms of structuring our community groups, how do we make sure the movement is sustainable and healthy for community organisers and members?

The ESEA anti-racism movement is in its infancy, and I understand that we are still finding our footing. I have met many inspiring souls thanks to EVR and many other ESEA community organisations, and I hope that we can go on this journey together with kindness, hand in hand.

You can find out more about Monica on socials: Monica Wat; MOON FEST and Made on the Moon.