Sophia Sun and Da Eun Kim: Hosts of bamboo & glass

Sophia Sun and Da Eun Kim have never attended the same school or participated in activities in the same city together. Despite this, they’ve built and grown an incredible seven year long distance friendship. Together they host bamboo & glass, a podcast showcasing underrepresented perspectives that shape their lifelong journey of learning and unlearning. I spoke with Sophia and Da Eun about changes in the way they’ve viewed their Asian American identities over time, how they’ve evolved their podcast since its inception, and how their Asian American identities influence their working styles and content creation. 

Photo courtesy of Sophia Sun

Rebecca: Can you tell me about your upbringings, especially as it relates to your Asian American identities? 

Da Eun: I was born in Seoul and I moved to the States when I was 10 months old. I moved around a lot in my childhood (i.e., California, Texas, and New York) and my parents still move around a lot. When I lived in New York, I went to a predominantly white school. There were about two or three other Asian Americans and they were either Korean or Chinese. I definitely leaned into those stereotypes of being smart and good at math and science. A lot of my classmates used to ask me for help on homework and I was really happy to help. That was just a conversation starter that would lead to genuine friendships at the time. People there were fascinated by the quirks of being Asian American. For example, I taught one of my best friends in fifth grade the Korean three bear song. I also remember we also had an ancient Chinese history fair, where we used chopsticks and everyone in the classroom watched me use my chopsticks. At the time, my main Asian community was my Korean church. I identified pretty strongly as Korean - not just Asian American or Asian or American. 

When I moved to the Bay, I had reverse culture shock because all of a sudden, I was surrounded by 90% Asian Americans. I didn’t know where I fit in anymore. The identity I had taken on for my entire life was shared by everyone and they had additional things distinguishing themselves. I began to distance myself from my Asian identity. I would get upset with my parents for speaking Korean to me in public. Peers around me didn't really call attention to their Asian American identities, outside of self deprecating jokes.

Going into college, I got placed in the Asian American themed dorm at our school. I was very resistant to it at first, but it actually really transformed my view of Asian Americans.  Previously I'd been surrounded by primarily Chinese and Indian Americans and now I was being surrounded by a much more diverse understanding of Asian America. I became really heavily involved in the Asian American community at school and that allowed me to finally self identify as Asian American. I understood how the Asian American identity is not only a cultural identity but also a political one - as culturally diverse as our community is, from the outside we are a monolith and there are common issues that we can stand against and behind. Now I've been trying to lean more into learning my own personal history and heritage through Korean folktales, media, history, and activities. 

I’ll also say that it's a strange experience for me to witness the popularization and globalization of Kpop and Kdramas. As a government act to pour money into this cultural export of entertainment and media, we see the results of really cool bands and shows that people are excited to consume. But I’ve grown up in a time when loving this media was shameful, and I had a little bit of insight into negative sides that people aren't always critical of. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, because I want to be excited like everyone else.

Sophia: My excitement for engaging with Chinese language and culture has shifted a lot depending on my surroundings. I grew up in the Bay Area, mostly around 1.5-generation East Asians. I attended a Chinese church, a Chinese/Taiwanese choir, and Chinese school. In these three spaces, it was very cool to be good at Mandarin. For example, at the church potlucks, I would get to sit at the aunties’ tables and listen to them chat and gossip, since I could speak Mandarin well. In my predominantly Taiwanese and Chinese choir, our conductors spoke to us Mandarin, and I got to emcee concerts for many years in English and Mandarin. In high school, my summer job was working as an interpreter. All these spaces and experiences made me so proud of being good at speaking Mandarin. 

In high school, I went to a high school that was predominantly white. I didn't hide my identity, but I didn't amplify it. When I went to college, I was tight with the international Chinese kids and they thought I was so cute and cool for being good at Mandarin. 

In college, after my peers and I talked for the first time about current events in China, I became more hesitant about telling people I'm Chinese. I also noticed that a lot of my peers' post-college "Asia trips" don't include cities in China, for one reason or another, whereas most prioritize visiting at least one city in South Korea or Japan. These experiences made me more hesitant to bring up the fact that my family is from China. 

However, recently, I started meeting a lot of people on Clubhouse who are living in China, and ABCs who love 2000's Chinese pop music and have thought about going back to China. I love opening the app, seeing rooms with titles in Simplified Chinese, and tuning in on fascinating conversations people in China are having. These spaces revived my willingness to talk about being from China and revived my gratitude for growing up in spaces that encouraged me to learn Mandarin and Chinese culture.

Rebecca: How did you start bamboo & glass? 

Sophia: We met through mutual friends during high school, and in the last seven years we've been in what we call LDF or “long distance friendship.” We never attended the same school or participated in the same activities in the same city. We were able to keep in touch, because we liked talking to each other and were processing the same questions about what we’re passionate about and what we want to commit our time to.

During college, we co-authored a blog to asynchronously process what we were experiencing and reflecting about. After we graduated from college, we thought it would be fun to keep in touch by processing life in real time with each other. We were both listening to podcasts on our own, but podcasting wasn't this huge thing that everyone was doing yet. One question that we discussed a lot initially was “what are expectations that others have placed on me and that I've placed on myself because of my identities as a straight, 1.5-generation Asian American woman?” This was relevant to us, because we were transitioning from the known timelines of college to the unknown timelines of post grad life. We wondered about how to follow our passions and values once we figured them out. Other questions we had were “how do I use my privileges to advocate for inclusive and equitable opportunities for those who have been pushed to the margins because of their identities?” and “how do we navigate work relationships and relationships with our friends and parents?” In episode 21, we discussed what we're still learning and unlearning from our college application processes, which had happened five years ago at that point. That's when the term “learning and unlearning” came up. We really liked that and eventually incorporated it into our tagline.

Da Eun: I think that tagline shows how we always share our journeys pretty openly, especially when our opinions and boundaries change. For example, we both had bullying experiences from middle and high school. We both thought those would be helpful to share online, but we didn’t want to share those stories immediately. After doing the podcast for a year, we felt we had created a space where we could safely share. That's when we did the bullying episode. I remember mentioning in the episode that my hands were clammy during that and Sophia was shivering, and I think people really appreciated that level of transparency that we would normally have in a private one on one conversation.

Rebecca: Our parents’ generation frequently discourages us from sharing openly, and there can be pressure to keep our heads down and blend in. This mentality has shifted a little with our generation, but it’s still an instinct I have sometimes based on how I was raised. How do you find the right balance of how openly to share on the podcast? 

Da Eun: There's that culture of saving face and not wanting to open up about the downsides as well as the times I'm struggling. But vulnerability is a key part of a lot of my friendships. For example, on that bullying episode, I didn't talk about it with anyone until my sophomore year of college. When I opened up about it, my friend told me I was bullied and I hadn’t realized that that was the term that you would use for what happened. When we released the episode, there was a lot of fear of retaliation or that people would downplay what happened to us and think it was silly, since everyone has dark times in middle school. But it was a cathartic release for both of us to share those deep stories. People responded so positively, which was a huge relief and moment of empowerment. There's this phrase that my friend says which is “there is universality in the specificity of the stories that you tell” and I think with specificity comes vulnerability as well.

In general, the fear of retaliation is very big and that's what my parents grew up believing, and we’ve all heard and maybe even witnessed the repercussions, ranging from losing your job to harassment to losing your chance at gaining citizenship. But I feel very lucky that in the moments when I’ve shared openly, there have been more moments of empowerment than of retaliation. And personally I would like to lead with the values of forgiving and moving forward. People make mistakes all the time, but people can also still change. 

Rebecca: When you first started bamboo & glass, did you intend to focus the podcast on your Asian American experiences specifically? 

Sophia: We recognized that our racial identity shapes, to some degree, everything we experience and thus everything we say. However, an “authentic” Asian American experience is not limited to things that only Asian Americans experience. I really like media that show Asian Americans both engaging with their cultural heritage, but also doing things that non-Asians living in America also do. One example is shows in which Chinese Americans eat both 长寿面 (chang shou mian, i.e., long noodles Chinese people eat on their birthdays to wish for a long and happy life) and spaghetti. Both can be part of an “authentic” Asian American experience.

Aside from thinking about how we want to showcase Asian American experiences, we’ve also thought a lot about two other aspects of representation and storytelling: (1) when we want to feature the experiences of Asian American men, and (2) how we can encourage non Asian Americans to listen to our stories. An earlier tagline was “stories about Asian American women that anyone can learn from.” As we brainstormed episode topics, we realized that there were Asian American men (specifically, certain queer Asian American men) we’ve been learning a lot from. After that, we pivoted the tagline from specifying the identity of the subject of the story, to specifying the hosts guiding the conversation (i.e., Da Eun and myself). This change gives us the flexibility to continue to broaden who we’re learning from! 

While thus far we’ve centered Asian American guests, we also, at times, try to make universal themes from Asian Americans’ lives relatable to others. To clarify, this is not because we believe that Asian Americans (or anyone) are obligated to make their experiences relatable to others. It’s totally valid to celebrate experiences unique to you without explaining them to others. For example, we love exploring how one’s intersectional identities shape their experience of every aspect of life, from relationships to career, etc. However, one way to amplify underrepresented perspectives from Asian Americans is to motivate others to pay attention to these perspectives. And one way to do that is to make universal themes from Asian Americans’ lives relatable to others. After our guest shares something, we affirm something that resonated with us and help our audience draw the connection between the guest’s specific experience and other experiences that more people may have. Da Eun and I are also in different industries (I work in tech and Da Eun used to work in tech but is now in film) - by sharing how the guests’ insights show up in our lives, we help listeners better relate to the insights our guests share.  

Da Eun: We felt that there weren't a lot of pieces of media that featured Asian American women. When I came out of college, I was hyper aware of the political climate, my identity and the privileges that came with that identity. I felt like I had a duty to report and talk about my experiences. It's been really fun to share with Sophia some of the things I've learned from being involved in the AAPI community, like historical events that happened in the Bay that we didn't grow up knowing about. 

We've learned to strike a balance. Not everything has to be cultural and in your face. For example, not every immigrant family film has to include a parent with broken English or a tapestry with calligraphy on the wall. That's some people’s experience but not everyone’s. I know my family has a mix of cultural things that are more subtle that show up in everyday life as they are. We've been able to strike a good balance of what hard topics and stories we would like to share, and not feeling obligated to only focus on things that Asian America wants to hear at that very moment. 

Rebecca: A lot of people, both Asian Americans and non-Asians, feel the need to be the best at whatever they do, even if they don’t enjoy the process. How do you balance working on your full time jobs and bamboo & glass without feeling too burnt out by that pressure? 

Da Eun: This idea of being the best and being intense is something that I'm proactively unlearning, because it feels so ingrained into my ethos. I'm learning how important rest and space are to fueling the creativity and the quality of the work that I put out. I don't want to go into a recording with guests and be really burnt out and not excited about the conversation. 

If I do feel pressure, it’s because I want to make sure I'm putting as much work into the podcast as Sophia is. I've caught myself feeling guilty at times when Sophia is putting in more effort than I am. But our conversations and her generosity remind me that there's always an ebb and flow in productivity. There are moments when she's feeling burnt out, so I happen to take on a little bit more. If we have restrictions, we're very open about letting each other know that maybe we need to take a break from the podcast a certain weekend. 

Another thing to think about is what does it mean to be the best podcast? Is it earning the label of a top 100 podcast? Is it showing up in Spotify’s top charts? Or is it the quality of our conversations? Who exactly is the judge of being the best? I definitely felt the pressure of being the best in my main occupation before, and I learned the hard way that it wasn't worth it for me. The things that people touted as the criteria for success didn't align with me, because my mental health suffered and my happiness suffered. 

Sophia: In honestly sharing our experiences and reflections, we've attracted listeners and other podcasters who love who we are and the stories we gravitate towards sharing. During quarantine, we can't really choose our physical environment since we're all stuck at home, but we can choose our digital environment. We can choose who we follow on Instagram based on how they celebrate themselves and others. Our listeners celebrate us for being ourselves, because that’s the only version of ourselves we share. Affirmation feels sustainable when people affirm you for who you are and what you genuinely gravitate towards sharing. 

Some logistical things that help us prevent burnout are that we communicate openly about what conversations we're really motivated to have versus not motivated to have and the work that we're more and less excited to do so. This is really important because my favorite part of podcasting is identifying someone we're super excited to talk to, crafting the outline, and chatting with them. It matters that we communicate openly to ensure that we’re telling stories we’re excited about, because that's the part of podcasting that no one can take away from us, no matter how many people listen to our podcast. 

It's also helpful for us to designate a specific time during the week to discuss podcast-related work. At one point, our personal chat was getting mixed up with podcasting conversations. Sometimes Da Eun would ask me something about the podcast and I didn’t really have an answer. Then she would send me a personal update and I felt awkward responding to her personal sharing without responding to her podcast question - which meant I developed a bad habit of ignoring her altogether. Another change we implemented was only recording on weekends to avoid doing something we love while dealing with leftover stress from work. Another thing that keeps us from burning out is that we make every decision together, so I never feel like I'm alone in figuring something out. When we see other podcasters focus on monetizing their podcast or growing their Instagram followers, we discuss if that’s something we’re both committed to. Feeling aligned with the person I work most closely with and who celebrates the same definitions of success is a strong buffer against all these external pressures that can really get to you at times. 

Rebecca: How do you refine your style and niche as you evolve your podcast? 

Sophia: We’ve never aimed to be different from others just to be different - our process was more of observing what we liked, what we wish we saw more of, and what we were excited to try. Through connecting with the Asian podcast community, we realized the uniqueness of the style we were gravitating towards:

• We balance showing both our journeys of learning and unlearning, and how our guests inform our journeys. In other words, instead of just asking questions to our guests, we actively participate in the conversation by affirming their response and sharing our perspectives. We also share many episodes with just us two. By sharing different facets of our personalities, perspectives, and daily lives in every episode, we hope our listeners feel invested in our journey and identify us as people they’re eager to grow alongside!  

• Because bamboo & glass documents our personal journey of growth through learning and unlearning, we candidly embrace how our and our guests’ perspectives have evolved since earlier episodes.

• Regardless of who we interview - a close friend sharing their story for the first time or a seasoned podcast guest - we extensively research their online presence so that we ask unique questions that set them up to highlight an underexplored dimension of their experience and expertise. Regardless of which conversation you tune into, and regardless of how frequently a guest has been interviewed, we hope our diligent research enables you to experience a unique, intimate access to our guests by proxy. If choosing between someone with more clout versus someone we’re more confident we can have an engaging, interesting conversation with, we’ll go with the latter every time!