The Kakehashi Project gives Utah brothers an opportunity to experience Japanese culture

Mitch Imamura and others in the Kakehashi Project group. All photos courtesy of Mitch Imamura.

Story by BROOKE WILLIAMS

It was during the eleventh hour when at last they broke the language barrier for a moment. After 10 days of aiming to communicate, they finally understood what was being said. In fact, it was the only thing said during their stay in Japan that they certainly understood. It was “goodbye.”

They were on their way back to the airport, wrapping up a 10-day trip which they felt went by as fast as the two-month wait for the trip had felt slow. Four months earlier, brothers Mitchell and Treyton Imamura submitted applications through the Kakehashi Project. The Japanese government program partners with the Japanese American Citizens League to offer young Japanese Americans the opportunity to visit Japan in a larger effort to strengthen relations that join the United States and Japan.

“The Kakehashi Program was instituted when I was the national director of the JACL in D.C. Of course I wanted to see our local Salt Lake youth, where I’m from and I was born and raised, be part of the program,” said Floyd Mori, who served as the national executive director of the JACL.

Mori discussed in a phone interview his sense of obligation to do his part in building the bridge, or kakehashi, between his countries of origin. Having a pride in his identity is what drove him through such a successful career, so he felt it was important to share that confidence with other Japanese Americans, starting with those in his hometown.

Growing up during World War II, Mori said he experienced firsthand stereotypes and prejudices that made him ashamed of who he was. His family was always active with the JACL but one day he noticed that his interaction within his community helped to develop a better understanding of the culture. Because of that understanding, he became more appreciative of who he was.

“There is a sense of, you know, we’re real, we can do something, we can be something, and we’re as full of a human being as anybody else, regardless what their background might be,” Mori explained.

Thanks to Mori’s encouragement, the Imamura brothers said they received their acceptance letter a month after they applied. The excitement grew as they prepared for the trip, and Trey couldn’t help but remember his humanitarian trip to Brazil nearly 10 years before. He focused on keeping an open mind, free of assumptions and expectations.

Two months later, Mitch, Trey, and several other Japanese Americans from around the U.S. flew from Los Angeles to Tokyo, where they were separated into smaller groups to travel with throughout the trip. Mori was with Trey’s group as an advisor, so Mitch was on his own to make new friends during his travel.

He took photos of things he found interesting or could relate to, starting with the Japanese Overseas Migration Museum in Yokohama. Some photos included an ad for a Japanese hotel in Salt Lake City, a table crowded with international Japanese foods, a baseball glove and bat, and a basic butsudan, or Japanese Buddhist family altar.

Hot meal in a can from a vending machine.

It wasn’t long before Mitch encountered his first culture shock, he said. His first meal was a can of corn chowder from a vending machine. To his surprise, the soup was hot and meal ready. After that, Mitch said, “Whenever I saw a vending machine I just bought something, anything.”

His group’s homestay family invited them into their home in the outskirts of Semboku City. Everyone took their shoes off at the door as standard practice they were already used to. Mitch said he shivered throughout the tour of their home. It was February and central heating was uncommon in the countryside. When he came across the family’s butsudan, he was so amused by the regular upkeep with the altar that he almost forgot it was cold.

“A big part of the Japanese Buddhist ideology is that everything is impermanent, and that we can’t hold on to things. When you have food or flowers on a shrine, you are adding to the things that will go away and you have to keep replacing them with things,” Mitch said. “The religious symbolism in it is impermanence, that nothing is permanent in this world and that everything will go away.”

He continued to see things in a new light throughout the trip, he said. He felt at home. He was familiar with much of Japanese culture and was able to connect his memories with his experiences.

The group’s homestay dad took them to the grocery store. Mitch’s roommate, who spoke limited Japanese, translated for the dad. He said he was excited to introduce them to a food they might not have seen before. But Mitch said he recognized sakura mochi, a Japanese confectionery made with rice and red bean paste. He described it as a pastry almost as sweet as the nostalgia it evoked from when his mom made it for him and his brother.

“Throughout my trip was a lot of confirmation that I know Japanese culture really well. There were also things that I didn’t know, so I guess those things together affirmed to me that I am very strongly Japanese and American, and it affirmed to me that there are differences between being Japanese and Japanese American,” Mitch said, explaining how he finds balance within his cultural identity.

On their way to Akita, Mitch had a memorable conversation with a roommate about how they express their cultures back home in the U.S. His roommate said he felt more Japanese just for being there in Japan. Being from the South, there weren’t many other Asian Americans to relate with. His only connection to his Japanese culture was watching anime.

Mitch took photos through the windows of the bullet train windows as they arrived in Akita. There, he experienced something completely new to him — lantern balancing. According to legend, it was once a way for the people of Akita to represent their small towns in a competition. They would hold massive poles with more poles at the top that attached a number of artistic lanterns. While it’s not practiced as a competition today, it serves as a community gathering event.

As he watched the lantern balancing, Mitch said it reminded him of the lanterns that decorate the Obon Festival in Salt Lake City, which for him is an emotional celebration of ancestry. When his turn to balance the lanterns came, he felt almost nostalgic of his own connection to the lanterns, but it was different because he didn’t have a great understanding of lantern balancing.

Mitch Imamura can be seen dancing in this video (at 48:35) on the left side of the frame.

Discovery was a repeating theme, Mitch said. The group went to a snow festival in Akita, where he enjoyed new foods like kiritanpo, an Akita Prefecture original rice dish, and saw intricately detailed snow sculptures. With the language barrier, he said he would remind himself not to let his American tendencies exoticize everything he saw because he was there to experience, not interpret.

Dragon sculpture made of snow at the festival Mitch Imamura attended.

“I don’t know if the festival actually had any religious meaning behind It, or cultural meaning, or if it was just a fun thing to do in the community, but it was a way for them to do something together,” Mitch observed.

Meanwhile, Trey was also making discoveries and connections through experiences with his group. In the town of Minakami located in the Gunma Prefecture, Trey’s homestay family began each day with breakfast before they embarked on whatever adventures the day had in store. Trey said their host expected nothing in return. At one point, Trey recalled, he said a familiar word, kimochi. Without hesitation, Trey thought of his mom.

“She’d always say this word kimochi, kimochi, and I never really fully understood what it meant,” Trey remembered. “She always said it was ‘from the heart, from the heart.’”

He said he came to the realization that his homestay family did generous acts for the group simply because they wanted their guests to have a nice breakfast, they cared. Despite not speaking Japanese, there was a mutual understanding of kimochi as the action not the word.

“The connection that I felt there was beyond words, because I always heard that with my own family and Japanese community. I could never establish an understanding, but after going to Japan and seeing that culture it reaffirmed that we are still Japanese,” Trey said. “It’s who we are and what we do in a lot of our cultural practices.”

Having experienced trains in Hong Kong and New York City, Trey said the systems in Japan were culturally shocking because of the overall cleanliness, to which he credits Japanese culture and respect for others. He said this distinguished his Japanese culture from his American culture and from Asian cultures in general. He spoke about how his ancestors’ struggles with their identity shapes who he is today.

“I’m not going to say that I carry trauma from my grandparents being put into internment camps,” Trey said, “but it’s a sad time in our history where my family was … seen as aliens.”

The Kakehashi Project held a sayōnara luncheon in Tokyo. Trey reflected on his favorite experiences, and said the public bathing house was particularly memorable.

“We were out in this natural hot spring and it starts to snow in Japan. And in the wind — it’s cold, and you’re in the hot water and just looking up at the moon, and I was like, life doesn’t get any better than this,” he said.

Then, a familiar song played during the luncheon. He said he once heard it in a documentary and loved its expression of homesickness and the constant desire to return home.

Mitch Imamuras’s travel group on the bus ride back to the airport.

“It was just really interesting to have this song where they’re talking about that. It’s a very common concept in Japanese culture to go home … and that’s where you know you came from,” Trey said.

On the bus ride to the airport, Mitch’s tour guide sang a melody he recognized. He said he sang along and described a connection he felt with his tour guide, which brought a realization of “we’re not that different.” The song was “Sugiyaki,” a popular worldwide hit some 40 years ago.

 “Now when I hear that song, I think of her singing it a cappella to us on a bus,” Mitch said. “It’s a very nice upbeat song, but it’s about people leaving you forever and not being able to see people again.”

UMFA acquires artwork from Chiura Obata, bringing the story of his artistic journey to Utah

Story by CARLENE COOMBS

​​Topaz Relocation Center, Utah, “Very Warm Noon Without Any Wind. Dead Heat Covered All Camp Ground,” watercolor, 1943. Gift of the Estate of Chiura Obata, from the Permanent Collection of the Utah Museum of Fine Arts.

The Utah Museum of Fine Arts (UMFA) has acquired 35 pieces of artwork from the Japanese American artist Chiura Obata. 

Obata’s artwork will join UMFA’s permanent collection starting fall 2022, according to Luke Kelly, associate curator of collections at UMFA. 

“We want to tell the complete art history narrative,” Kelly said in a Zoom interview. “Obata is part of the U.S. art history narrative, but for a long time, that story has not really been told. And we felt that this was a great opportunity … to tell the more complete story of American art history.” 

Obata was a prominent Japanese American immigrant artist during the 20th century who was incarcerated in the Topaz War Relocation Center in Utah during World War II.

Before being placed there, Obata lived in California and taught at University of California, Berkeley, for 10 years, according to his granddaughter, Kimi Hill. He joined the faculty at UC Berkeley in 1932 and taught art courses such as Japanese art history and brush techniques. He was also well known for his artwork of Yosemite National Park

Portrait of Obata taken in 1939 during his time at UC Berkeley. Photo courtesy of the Estate of Chiura Obata.

Obata’s pieces will be rotated through the American gallery in the museum, Kelly said. The collection will include drawings and watercolors of depictions of his incarceration at Topaz and artwork of flowers, animals, and California landscapes, according to the UMFA press release.  

Scotti Hill, an art historian, critic and curator, said she was excited to hear UMFA had acquired Obata’s art. 

“I hope its arrival in Utah can be a catalyst for a larger conversation here in the state about racial injustice and bias,” Hill said, who is not related to Kimi Hill.

“He’s an incredible figure,” she said in a phone interview. 

Healing through art

Scotti Hill said Obata’s work “tells the story of painting as a meditative practice, as a sort of escape from the horrors of the war.”

According to History.com, about 120,000 people of Japanese descent were incarcerated during World War II.

While teaching at UC Berkeley, Kimi Hill said that Obata developed his philosophy of how to react to world events. That philosophy was to always start with your relationship to nature. 

Obata believed “that nature is the greatest teacher no matter what the situation,” she said. “That is where you can ground yourself and you know, learn and move forward and find hope.”

This philosophy is what he taught his students in California and what Obata turned to when he saw and experienced the injustice faced by Japanese Americans during the war. 

“He firmly believed in the power of nature, to help and to comfort people and also the power of art and creativity,” Hill said. 

During his time in Topaz, he painted and sketched the surrounding desert landscape. In other pieces, he included imagery of the barracks and barbed wire fence surrounding the camp, Hill said. Some of his art from this time will be included in the UMFA collection. 

“Some of them were just pure landscapes because again, that was the nurturing, embracing quality of nature that he said himself, he never felt abandoned,” she said. 

This philosophy led Obata to create an art school at the Tanforan Assembly Center in California, where he was incarcerated before being moved to Topaz in Utah. Almost immediately, Obata started talking to his friends and other students about starting an art school there, Hill said.  

Chiura Obata teaching a children’s art class in the Tanforan Assembly Center. While incarcerated, Obata taught art classes to help him and others cope with their circumstances. Photo courtesy of the Estate of Chiura Obata.

He believed art education was as important as food, especially while undergoing a traumatic experience, she said.

Scotti Hill said Obata oversaw dozens of students in the Topaz art school. 

“What I think is really remarkable about Obata is not only his extraordinary career but his commitment to educating others,” she said. 

A powerful American story

Obata’s experience as an immigrant also greatly impacted his art and artistic style, Kimi Hill said. Unlike other Asian immigrants who came for economic reasons, Obata came as an artist, she said.  

“As an immigrant, he took his experience of culture and art history from Japan and brought it to America,” she said. 

Obata was born in Okayama, Japan, and immigrated to San Francisco as a teenager in 1903.

He used traditional Japanese art materials to interpret American scenery through a cultural lens that “was new to Americans,” Hill said. 

Scotti Hill said she believes his upbringing in Japan shaped his artistic identity and he was influenced by the artistic traditions of Japan, such as the Sumi ink art style. 

Kelly, who curates for UMFA, said Obata’s art style blended Western and Japanese techniques providing a “unique American vision.” 

“Chiura Obata’s art style is Chiura Obata,” he said. 

Scotti Hill said Obata had a tremendous impact on 20th-century art.

Chiura Obata, “Topaz War Relocation Center by Moonlight,” 1943, watercolor, gift of the Estate of Chiura Obata, from the Permanent Collection of the Utah Museum of Fine Arts.

“He’s not only one of the most significant Japanese American artists of the 20th century,” she said, “but I would argue, without the qualifier of Japanese American, he is one of the most significant American artists of the 20th century.”

She said much of his impact comes from not just his time in Topaz but from his work building up to that event in his lifetime. 

“Just talking about Topaz, in some ways, limits the discussion of all of the incredible things he had done prior to that point — among them, working as an illustrator for some really prominent Japanese American publications in California [and] doing this incredible series of paintings and works of national parks in California,” Hill said. 

“His life experience and his commitment to art,” she said, “even in the most tragic and unjustified circumstances is a powerful American story.” 

Press start: how one industry member encourages aspiring Asian game developers

Story by ALEXIS PERNO

It’s no secret that people often skip past video game credits. But for Karan Ganesh, within those names lie important reminders about representation in the world of game development.

“If you see some Indian name out there, I’m like, ‘Yeah, wow, that’s so cool that that person got to work on that, I wish I got to be there,” Ganesh said in a Zoom interview. “Just seeing a name on the credit is something really huge.”

And in an industry where nearly half of surveyed Asian-American gamers feel as if characters aren’t equally represented when it comes to race, those reminders can be critical — especially for Asians breaking into American gaming. 

“There were not many people who I could look up to and say, ‘Hey, I would like to become like this person someday,’” Ganesh said. “There was no person from my background I’d say who I could relate to.” 

Despite the global market of video games, there’s little discussion of Asian representation, and even less research to be found on Asian and Asian American game developers. In India, Ganesh wasn’t aware of the people and processes that went into creating video games. But he did know he enjoyed playing them. 

At UC Davis, Ganesh continued to explore the game development world. When he finally reached the University of Utah’s Entertainment Arts and Engineering (EAE) program, everything “took off.” 

“The people [in Salt Lake City] were so great,” Ganesh said. “I got to learn a lot from there.” 

Utah’s EAE program came to life in 2007. Since then, both the undergraduate and graduate programs have risen to be ranked second in the world for public universities

Before earning a master’s degree at the U, Ganesh focused mainly on the building aspects of game development, such as computer science. He was encouraged during the EAE program to step into a management role as a producer — a role he hadn’t known existed, but one Ganesh says he’s glad he found. 

Game producers are tasked with overseeing various development teams, making sure that deadlines are met and roadblocks are thwarted. 

“I behave as a glue to the team,” Ganesh said. “As a person who really likes to talk and engage a lot with other people in communication, I find this to be a great role.”

Ganesh credits his diverse education — which includes studying in Chennai, India; England; California and Utah — with his success in production.

“It was one that helped me communicate better with diverse people and also understand the different cultural backgrounds,” he said.

The pandemic put those communication skills to the test during Ganesh’s final year within the EAE program. His cohort had to create a game without meeting in person. 

“It was a really difficult time,” Ganesh said. “The first time we actually got to meet everybody was after we published and launched the game, during our celebration party.” 

Ganesh worked as the producer for Abyss of Neptune, the team’s first-person underwater survival horror game. The hard work didn’t go unrewarded, though, as the project won the Utah Game Developer Choice Award for Artistic Achievement. 

“Today I can finally say, ‘Worked on an award winning title,’” Ganesh said in a tweet

Now, as an associate producer for 2K Games and a former member of Big Fish Games, Ganesh can also finally say it’s his name serving as a reminder to other Asians looking to join the industry.

“That is where I feel that representation really matters,” he said. “It’s a great thing that they feel they can pursue as well. But also it’s an encouragement for you to make sure that you can help them and support them in any way possible.”

In the case of 2K Games, employee resource groups were created to uphold the company’s “come as you are” values regarding diversity. According to Benji Han, director of global marketing strategy for NBA 2K, the Asian American group was born out of the rise of anti-Asian sentiment. Now, the group has transformed into what Han describes as a celebratory and empowering community. 

“We wanted to also elevate the conversation about unconscious biases that Asian Americans face in the workforce that lead directly and indirectly to glass ceilings — ‘bamboo ceilings,’ in the case of Asian Americans,” Han said in a statement published on 2K’s website

Alongside Akshay Bharadhwaj, Karan Ganesh hosts the Humans of gamedev podcast. The podcast was created in January 2022 and is still in production, with no episodes released yet. Photo from @humansofgamedev on Twitter.

Personally, Ganesh’s support of aspiring developers takes the form of the Humans of gamedev podcast, which he co-hosts and creates content for on LinkedIn. While still in production, the podcast and LinkedIn posts spread the origin stories of game developers to encourage others to explore. 

“People say it’s a closely knit industry, but if you’re able to connect with the right people, you could really get an opportunity that knocks the door for you,” Ganesh said. 

Ganesh advises aspiring developers not to be afraid to experiment and reach out to professionals, but make sure they understand the commitment video games require. 

“I think the first and foremost thing is having the mindset that you really want to build something,” he said. “It’s something that people find cool, but once you get into it, it’s a lot harder than people expect it to be.”

And for some in India, entering the vast world of video game development is even harder.

“There are still some traditional families who see it as not a career that you can pursue, and so I want to be able to break that barrier for them,” he said.

Ganesh says he was lucky to have his parent’s support when exploring game development, but his work isn’t done. 

“If you’re passionate about something, you should really be able to pursue it,” he said. “That’s something that I really want to try and help people out with.”

A love for video games has grown beyond what he expected. Ganesh’s name now has the chance to inspire others. 

Karan Ganesh worked both as a producer and PR and community manager for Abyss of Neptune, a free, first-person underwater horror survival game.

After vandalism at Japanese Peace Garden, community organizers build bridges and solidarity against anti-Asian attacks

Story and photos by ROSE SHIMBERG

A bright red Tori gate marks the entrance to the Japanese Peace Garden, a pop of color in the cool spring morning.

Stone lanterns and evergreen trees dot the hilly landscape but the garden’s true beauty is yet to bloom — the pale pink blossoms of a sea of cherry trees.

the entrance to the International Peace Gardens at 1160 Dalton Ave. S. in Jordan Park.

A pair of bridges bookend the tranquil space and although the pond they traverse is dry, visitors still stop for a contemplative moment before reaching the other side.

The garden is just one of many in Jordan Park’s International Peace Gardens, where over two dozen countries are represented. But it alone fell victim to an act of hateful vandalism in October 2021.

It was just one incident in a series of anti-Asian attacks and threats in Salt Lake City, which have been on the rise since the outbreak of the coronavirus pandemic.

After speaking up about the issue and spreading awareness, community members quickly mobilized to clean up the garden, showcasing the strength and solidarity of a connected Asian American community.

The Tori gate marking the entrance to the Japanese Garden.

Trey Imamura was the first person to see the hateful message. Imamura was there on behalf of the Japanese American Citizens League (JACL), which brings volunteers together twice a year to clean up the garden. As co-president of the Salt Lake Chapter, he went to see what supplies would be needed for the cleanup.

Imamura said he was shocked and upset at what he found. But he wasn’t sure if he should report the crime.

“From what I’ve gathered, there’s a very Asian American mentality where it’s like, keep your head down, keep grinding away, don’t make a fuss,” he said. “But I had some friends who were like, ‘absolutely not! Cause some noise and make a ruckus.’”

One of those friends was Amanda Lau, a director of the Asian Link Project. She said she found out about the vandalism through Imamura’s Instagram story.

“Immediately when I saw that, the first thing I did was I told Carrie about it. And that’s when she got to work,” she said in a Zoom interview.

She was referring to Carrie Shin, cofounder of the Asian Link Project. Shin started the nonprofit organization with her husband in response to the rise in anti-Asian attacks nationwide. They had heard about a group in Oakland, California, that ran a chaperone program for elders who were fearful to go out alone. Shin wanted to provide that same support for the people of Salt Lake City.

“That’s how it started, with the chaperone project,” she said in a Zoom interview. “And we started gaining a little bit more trust with other people that were telling us of vandalism and coming forward with their stories.”

Naturally, the directors of the Asian Link Project immediately offered their help when they heard about the garden.

A view of stone lanterns from one of two footbridges in the garden.

Shin helped put Imamura in touch with Jason Nguyen, a local reporter at ABC4. Imamura also contacted Utah Sen. Jani Iwamoto, whose connections with the sheriff’s and police departments helped initiate a rapid cleanup.

Asian Link Project director Lau, who also works at the Salt Lake City Council office, said it meant a lot to see councilmembers Darin Mano and Dennis Faris speak about Asian American hate and vandalism happening locally.

“It was really moving for me to see that action took place quickly, loudly and proudly,” she said.

Thanks to the community’s swift response, the graffiti was gone within 48 hours, with the JACL cleanup taking place that same week. Asian Link Project volunteers made sure to join in on the effort.

“We had so many hands on deck and so many eager people to help, which we appreciate,” Shin said. “Sometimes these things take a little bit longer.”

She spoke from experience dealing with multiple instances of anti-Asian vandalism. When the window of Pho 28, a Vietnamese restaurant, was defaced in 2020, it took a lot longer to repair the destruction.

“They had to go with vandalism and damage on their window for about a year and a half until we were able to get that fixed,” Shin said.

These repeated attacks have shown that the vandalism in the garden was not an isolated incident. And the perpetrator still remains a mystery.

“This stuff just happens here, too,” Lau said. “And it goes underreported all the time.”

The Asian Link Project has big things in store for 2022, particularly the Asian Festival in July, where it will collaborate with local businesses and volunteers.

“With the surge of attacks, any exposure to racism, anything of that nature, we will always be available and we have our response plan,” Shin said. “But we are focusing on a lot of cultural events as well. We want to bring people together. We want to introduce people to Asian culture. We just want to make it normal.”

The Asian Link Project was not the only group that assisted Imamura and the JACL. The Organization of Chinese Americans (OCA) offered its support as well. It had previously partnered with the JACL to coordinate events such as vaccine clinics for senior community members.

The Salt Lake City chapter of the JACL also stands in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement. Imamura himself moderated a 2020 event cohosted by BLM Utah founder Lex Scott and Japanese-American civil rights advocate Floyd Mori. The event aimed to educate young people about BLM.

“At the end of the day, we have to work together,” Imamura said. “No matter if you’re JACL, OCA, Black Lives Matter, we’re all here to create a just and equal society.”

He was pleasantly surprised by the outpouring of support he received after word spread about the garden. People he never expected to reach out checked in on him and made sure he was OK. For Imamura, this exposure is critical in preventing these things from happening in the future.

“I had the ability to report and say ‘OK, this happened in my community and I’m upset by it.’ If someone says, ‘Wow, I’m upset that you’re upset, that hurts me because you’re hurt,’ I think my job is done,” he said.

He uses the Japanese word kakehashi to inform and guide his work as a community leader.

A bridge traverses the pond, which once held water lilies and koi fish.

It directly translates to bridge but can be used to mean “building bridges.” This is exactly what Imamura hopes to do by spreading awareness of issues affecting not only the Japanese citizens of Salt Lake City but the Asian American community as a whole.

Without its bridges, the Japanese Peace Garden would be impassable. And if it weren’t for the community’s consistent care, the wooden structures would have rotted into the earth long ago.

“Instead of drawing lines in the sand,” Imamura said, “let’s build bridges, you know?”

Everybody Tattoo Studio: A safe space for ‘everybody’ in Salt Lake City

Story and photos by ASIA BOWN

There’s a steady buzz in the studio from tattoo guns. Overlapping this white noise are conversations between artists and their patrons, discussing favorite restaurants, clothes and swapping personal stories. It’s noon and the walls are bathed in sunlight streaming in through the large east-facing windows. The small studio is decorated in pastel decor, a pearlescent couch, white room divider and clippings of each artist’s designs above their stations. The ever-so-slightly slanted floors point to a large mirror at the back of the studio, where customers and artists alike check out their new tattoos.

Above the noise and general chatter, the artists can be heard routinely checking in with their guests. They ask how their clients are feeling, if they need a break, if they’re comfortable, and provide numerous opportunities for customers to voice their concerns or desires. 

Located at 401 N. 300 West in Salt Lake City’s Marmalade District, Everybody Tattoo is a beacon for people of all backgrounds. Ensuring comfort is of paramount importance to the artists who work there and is a core part of the shop’s culture.

Before Victoria Minji Lee took over as shop owner, Everybody Tattoo was owned and run by Gheybin Comish, a local tattoo artist. Comish established the shop as a hub for self-taught and community-taught artists who chose an alternate route into the tattoo industry. 

Generally, becoming a tattoo artist requires a lot of training, research and an apprenticeship. This process is championed by artists who have gone through it, though it can be degrading, exhausting and financially draining work. Because of this, many artists have decided to carve out their own paths consisting of extensive sanitation and safety coursework followed by practice on themselves and friends.  

Comish welcomed artists on non-traditional paths and curated a similarly non-traditional environment in the shop that focused heavily on artist individuality and respect between artists and clients.

Currently six artists work permanently in Lee’s studio, including herself. Each artist’s work is unique and diverges from the traditional American tattoo style in some way. Lee specializes in animal- and plant-themed tattoos. Resident artist Mikki Reeve’s work is whimsical and heavily features skeletons, cherubs and animals. 

Long-time residents Hallie Rose Taylor and Logan Law’s designs tend to be bold. Law’s work is psychedelic, with thick line work and patterns. Taylor’s work is more abstract, consisting of natural elements and fantastical imagery.

Sam Walker, the studio’s newest resident, creates designs based on nature, cartoons and abstract images. Walker’s work is more colorful, and utilizes complex line work and designs are often scaled to larger sizes.

Hiri Sung specializes in hand poke tattoos that range from cartoon characters to fairies to abstract linework. In the hand poke tattoo method, the artist uses a needle with a handle to create designs using dots, much like pointillism art. Machine tattooing involves a small handheld machine with needles on the end used to create lines using small strokes. 

Artist Hiri Sung is free-handing this client’s extensive branch handpoke tattoo.

Most of the artists in the studio take custom tattoo requests and flash requests. An artist’s flash designs are their own artwork that they usually tattoo as-is, though sometimes they will make small modifications for a client. 

The Client Experience

When Lee took over in 2020, she continued to build the best environment for the shop’s artists and clients. To her, everybody in the shop should feel welcome and safe, and as such the shop consists of female and non-binary artists of different ethnicities. 

Getting a tattoo is, after all, an intimate experience and necessitates trust between the artist and client. Everybody Tattoo artists make it a point to provide opportunities for their clients to express their desires and collaborate in the process. They want to see their art on someone who is just as obsessed with it as they are.

In between appointments, resident artist Hiri Sung enjoyed a drink at Blue Copper Coffee 2000 next door and elaborated on the Everybody Tattoo experience from a client’s perspective. 

“You’re never going to come in and feel like we aren’t listening to you. That’s a huge thing that I feel like is different about the shop. We’ll actually listen to you, we’re not going to rush you to pick a placement, we’re not going to intimidate you,” Sung said.

Kenzie Smith, one of the shop’s loyal clients, echoed Sung’s sentiments. She described appointments at Everybody Tattoo as full-on experiences.

At other tattoo shops, she said, she felt like artists just saw her as a business transaction. It was obvious to her that artists at Everybody Tattoo considered their work to be art that their clients play an important role in creating.

From the beginning of every appointment customers have the freedom of choice. They’re able to choose a size from a series of printed templates and try different placements until they find the one they like best.

Victoria Minji Lee’s client has chosen a size and placement for her tattoo using this stencil that Lee provided and applied.

Not only will the artist have a few templates available to start, but they will also have others ready to print so that the client doesn’t feel like they’re wasting time by asking the artist to print more. Smith said this was an uncomfortable part of past appointments she had at other shops.

She also noted that tattoo artists usually want to go bigger in size because it means they’ll make more money.

During one appointment at the studio, Lee had printed three stencils of a goose for Smith to choose from. The last was so large Smith recalled thinking it looked comedic, which was not the way she’d envisioned this tattoo. Lee agreed and said the smallest size would suit Smith’s arm best.

The experience at Everybody Tattoo includes friendly conversation should clients want it. In addition, the artists are completely open to a more meditative appointment with interaction limited to check-ins.

At Everybody Tattoo, Smith said, you feel like you’re hanging out with a friend and all of a sudden you have a new tattoo.

One of the biggest differences in her experiences at Everybody Tattoo compared to other shops was the level of communication the artists provide. She has been tattooed by two different artists at the studio, Lee and Logan Law. 

Never once in four appointments did Smith feel like she couldn’t say what was on her mind, nor did she feel like there was the superiority complex that she so often felt at other shops.

Working at Everybody 

Lee said this level of respect and communication is a vital aspect of Everybody Tattoo’s culture behind the scenes as well. 

“It’s equally as important for our artists to feel welcome and safe [as our clients],” Lee said in a Zoom interview. 

The artists are constantly having to navigate the balance between making their customers comfortable and making sure they feel safe with their clients. They need to be able to tell Lee if a client or clients are making them feel uncomfortable in any way.

Hiri Sung described the work environment as that of a cooperative. Lee owns the shop, but she doesn’t reinforce a hierarchy of power with the other artists. At Everybody Tattoo, they treat each other as equals and Lee values their input.

Artist Victoria Minji Lee is seen tattooing at her station next to her hanging flash designs.

Lee’s position as the owner gives her more responsibility in maintaining the shop’s culture, so she’s the one to take ultimate action should it be necessary. 

Sung mentioned one issue she’s had at Everybody Tattoo. On numerous occasions, clients in the studio have asked Sung how her baby is doing or made a comment about her baby. 

While the comments were well-intentioned, the problem here is that Sung doesn’t have a baby — Lee does.

Clients were confusing the two artists for one another and it got to the point where Lee had to create an infographic to remind clients that there are two Korean artists in the shop.

Sung described Lee’s leadership as bringing comfort, openness and a higher standard of treatment. Her coworkers feel like they can confide in her without judgment or risk to their jobs. 

Racism in the SLC Tattoo Industry

Despite its deep roots in various indigenous cultures, the tattoo industry consists of mostly white people, namely white men. In an area like Salt Lake City, where Asians make up less than 10% of the city’s population, the population of Asians in the tattoo industry here is extremely low. 

Due to the demographic and political makeup of the state and city, there also exists a lower level of awareness of the various facets of racism, including microaggressions and appropriation. 

One popular request tattoo artists get is for “Asian-inspired” designs. Sung said that she’d received various requests like this, though she takes a hard stance against tattooing Asian art on people who are not of Asian descent, citing cultural appropriation.

When someone uses imagery from another culture, without any knowledge of its history or significance, their actions are defined as appropriation. Lee and Sung described another type of appropriation in tattooing that occurs when a non-Asian artist tattoos Asian designs and therefore reaps the financial benefits. 

Often, people guilty of appropriation defend their actions by claiming that they have cultural appreciation. 

Sung said that people don’t always necessarily have bad intentions, but intent doesn’t outweigh impact. She always appreciates people who own their actions and commit to doing better. 

On her Instagram account and in emails, she states upfront that certain cultural designs can only be requested by people who are a part of that culture. This is her way of cutting down on confrontation in situations like these.

Lee, too, acknowledged the existence of race-related issues, though she hasn’t encountered quite as many requests like the ones Sung has gotten. But in 2021, she limited her tattoos to flash only so she isn’t designing tattoos based on customer requests anymore.

“At the end of the day we’re trying to educate. We’re not trying to, like, keep someone away from the shop just because they make a mistake,” Sung said.

Lee knows that microaggressions will likely not completely disappear, but she recognizes that it could be worse and has hope for the future.

“Thankfully, things are changing in the right direction and people are more sensitive to these things,” Lee remarked, hopeful that the community will continue improving.

Asian American fashion in Utah: appropriation appreciation and expression

Story by KENZIE WILKINSON

Clothing is a means of expression and a way to represent culture. The presence of Asian American fashion is growing within the industry, and it is important to learn about where these trends are coming from.

Krecia Fullmer is a full-time freelance model, an interior design student at Ensign College in Salt Lake City, and a fashion blogger. She is also half Indian and half Vietnamese.

The combination of Krecia Fullmer’s passions: interior design and modeling. She is holding a pot of inspiration. She said she loves working with natural elements such as plants and stone. Photo by Emily Michelson.

Growing up in Utah, Fullmer saw her father as the odd one out. Other dads didn’t wear traditional Vietnamese slippers, silk pajamas, and button-up shirts with bright designs. She remembers degrading her father and telling him that was not how he was supposed to dress.

Fullmer said it is hard to embrace one’s culture when everyone around doesn’t accept it and makes fun of these cultural customs.

“My father was proud of his culture and a lot of the time my siblings and I were the ones to bully him because we didn’t think he fit in,” Fullmer said in a Zoom interview.

Fullmer began to appreciate her ethnic background and regrets the disrespect she showed her father. Now, she is proud of where she comes from — a mindset she learned to have from both her parents.

Fullmer gets to represent her culture through clothing and embrace it through modeling which she describes as a unique experience. She is working on a photo shoot with a Utah-based clothing brand that celebrates her mother’s history through Indian fashion. Her body will be painted with a henna tattoo and her face will be decorated with traditional Indian makeup.

The world of modeling can be very intimidating. It requires vulnerability. Fullmer finds herself comparing her dark skin, hair, and eyes to other models she works with, who often have light skin, hair and eyes. She reminds herself that companies want her to represent them because of her differences.

“I have the most confidence when I stop comparing and fully embrace my Asian American identity,” Fullmer said.

She brings diversity into companies. Fullmer loves how Utah brands are trying to branch out. They want to show their market that they can embrace diversity, and Fullmer has the opportunity to be the face of this change.

Fullmer said Asian trends are becoming more popular in Utah because similar standards of modesty are important in both cultures. She likes that her ethnicity and culture are represented in Utah, even if people don’t recognize it.

Whether it’s off-centered buttons down a dress or high neck collars, Fullmer said these examples show that Asian-inspired trends are rising especially within various Utah-based boutiques.

Because of beliefs within their Asian culture, Fullmer’s parents didn’t always support the idea of her chasing her passions of modeling and interior design. Her parents often led her to think that she couldn’t succeed and encouraged her to pick a more stable career in the medical field. 

The battle between passion and financial and career stability is also familiar to Andy Suh, a current student at Salt Lake Community College.

He is in the fashion design program but is planning to change his major to computer science. For him, having financial stability is important, and the main reason behind his degree shift.

“Fashion won’t be my career, but it will be a hobby I continue to pursue,” Suh said in a Zoom interview.

Both of Suh’s parents were born in Korea and then moved to California. Growing up there, Suh said he was surrounded by mostly white people. It was hard for him to accept his Asian American identity. He tried to immerse himself in “normal” culture and didn’t want to seem different.

During his high school years, Suh found his love for fashion which also became a way for him to accept and appreciate his Asian American identity. Scrolling through Instagram, seeing Asian influencers and high-end designers, he was inspired to create and sketch outfits.

Moving to Utah in 2019 was a challenging transition for Suh. There is a lot less diversity in Utah which caused some culture shock. Suh said It is harder to find Asian fashion in Utah than it was in California, but slowly he began to adjust. The representation of Asian American fashion could be better, he said. But he believes that is changing.

Social media, Anime, K-pop, and Asian American influencers are a few ways that Suh has seen Asian American fashion begin to be more accepted. The interconnection of fashion and other cultural aspects is helping to propel the change forward.

But, Suh said cultural appropriation happens a lot among high-end designers and haute couture fashion houses, which can strip traditional fashions of their cultural significance.

“This is a problem because a lot of trends start at the top and work their way down. We don’t need cultural appropriation being a part of those trends,” Suh said.

Kathy Tran, a University of Utah student and fashion lover, explains cultural appropriation as a lack of education and bad intent.

Paris is known as one of the fashion capitals of the world. Here, Kathy Tran visits the Louvre dressed as artistically as the museum she visits. Photo courtesy of Tran.

“If there is one Asian-inspired dress in a whole store, it’s cultural appropriation. If designers use an Asian pattern, copy a traditional dress such as an Ao Dai — a traditional Vietnamese garment — or use any part of a culture that isn’t theirs for personal gain, it’s stealing,” Tran said in a Zoom interview.

Tran loves her Vietnamese culture and wishes people would take the time to research it before they use a part of Asian culture.

Taking the time to learn where it came from, giving credit to the sources, and having respectful, good intentions are things Tran encourages everyone to do. These things can allow individuals to appreciate culture instead of appropriating it.

Despite growing up in a predominately white part of Utah, Tran stayed very connected to her Vietnamese identity. She went to a Catholic Vietnamese church, was taught to speak Vietnamese, and was surrounded by supportive friends and family.

Tran’s parents both worked full-time to have a successful life. Tran said her life has been very blessed because of them despite the challenges they faced.

“My friends all did tennis or dance. My parents couldn’t afford to put me in extracurricular activities and didn’t have the time to drive me to them,” Tran said.

Fashion and beauty became her passion and sense of identity. Everyone wears clothes and it was something she had access to. She remembers cutting her clothes and repurposing them after being inspired by YouTube videos.

Over the years, Tran became more confident in expressing herself through bold clothing and makeup. Music festivals are one of her favorite events to dress up for. Eccentric and avant-garde fashions are the norm at these festivals, and Tran loves that she can wear whatever she wants without the worry of what others might think.

Fullmer, Suh and Tran all have different positions in the fashion world and express their passion for it in various ways. It is an outlet for human connection and cultural expression. It is a time and place for education about Asian American culture, and an opportunity for fashion enthusiasts to embrace it.

“I love that we are in a day and age where I no longer feel that I have to divide my love for fashion from my Asian American identity,” Tran said. “I am learning how to embrace both and I hope everyone else can do the same.”
 

The Asian Link Project may be small, but its impact is large   

Story by KRISTAN EHORN

When Asian hate crimes began to rise around the country during the 2020 pandemic, Carrie Shin knew she had to do something about it.  

Shin took a trip from Utah and ended up volunteering in Oakland, California, at a place called Compassion in Oakland. This group helps empower and support the Asian American community. Compassion in Oakland does community service projects, provides companionship, and supports those who are being affected by hate crimes.  

It was at this place that Shin felt especially inspired and motivated to do more when she returned home to Utah and within her own community.  

“Utah is greatly in need of an organization like this,” Shin said in a phone interview.  

So, she started the Asian Link Project in Salt Lake City in late 2021. 

The Asian Link Project is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization. The group links the Asian community and volunteers for group assignments to help those in need. Its mission is to promote real connections and unity through partnership, sponsors, events and news.

The group Compassion in Oakland inspired Carrie Shin to start The Asian Link Project in Salt Lake City. Photo courtesy of Carrie Shin.

The team consists of five directors, a digital marketing manager, a Vietnamese community coordinator, an event manager, and two Chinese community coordinators. The nonprofit also has a long list of volunteers as well as a youth leadership team.  

The organization was inspired to help with a response plan for all of the surge of Asian-American hate crimes during the pandemic. As Asian Americans themselves, they knew just how important this type of work was at that time and will forever be.

Shin, the directors, and the rest of the staff are proud of their recent project called The Chaperone Project. It was created to ease the burden of senior and younger Asian Americans who do not feel safe being alone in the community. Free chaperone services are provided to residents in the Salt Lake Valley so they can feel safer. 

The Asian Link Project provides chaperone services to Asian American residents in the Salt Lake Valley to prevent hate crimes. Photo courtesy of Shin.

Another initiative the group was able to be a part of was The Window Project. A local Asian restaurant had its window vandalized. The profanity was etched into the glass, so it wasn’t even able to be cleaned. It had to be physically replaced so the team joined up with some local glass companies to have it paid for and fixed. 

The restaurant owners told Shin the business was barely making ends meet and because the vandalism happened during the pandemic they couldn’t afford to pay for the new window. The news wanted to air the story, but this type of hate crime is so shameful for the Asian community, and for them personally and their business, the owners declined to air the story at the time that it occurred.

“We are able to hear these stories that have brought pain, anger, and sadness, and try to give our community something positive to do with that,” Shin said. 

The Asian Festival is the current venture that the staff works on tirelessly. This festival is being held July 9, 2022. It is being held to showcase speakers, performers, and food culture across the board for the Asian American community. This is a daylong event that takes at least six to nine months of planning, but Shin said in a phone interview, “It is all worth it in the end.”

Utah’s 45th annual Asian Festival will be held July 22, 2022. It will host hundreds of local businesses. Photo courtesy of Shin.

The festival is filled with beautiful displays and vibrant colors. The warmth and smells are all-encompassing, and it isn’t a day anyone would want to miss.  

“So many volunteers have come forward to make this event possible,” Shin said with gratitude. It is because of the efforts from the people in The Asian Link Project that help those being affected by hate crimes, feel seen. Their efforts show that someone is available to be there to support them and that they aren’t alone. They also ensure that the needs are met for those in the community not able or willing to speak out.

Shin received a bachelor of science degree from Southern Utah University in 2002. She is currently a paralegal in criminal law. Her domestic partner and co-founder of The Asian Link Project has an MBA from Westminster College and is the director of finance in his current career. Her partner is also a martial arts teacher in Salt Lake City.

The board of directors at The Asian Link Project all have personal experiences with being harassed due to their ethnicity and came together to find ways to end the toxic behaviors.

Carrie Shin is the director and founder of The Asian Link Project. Photo courtesy of Shin.

Kate Forth is among some of the volunteers for The Asian Link Project. She got involved with the group to help contribute to safety in her community. Forth has spent time helping and donating her time when at all possible. She was able to be a part of The Window Project as well as The Chaperone Project. “I am grateful to be a part of such a wonderful organization,” Forth said in a phone interview.

Shin added, “To help chaperone our Asian senior Americans in need, to help fix damaged property to innocent Asian-owned businesses, to help empower our Asian community to join and be a part of something better than the sad stories on the news. We take a proactive approach to try and get positive results.”  

Curly Me!’s #PURPOSE: to empower, educate, and encourage young girls of color

Story by TAESHA GOODE

Black children are walking around with matted hair, and that’s just not something Alyssha Dairsow can get behind. After moving to Utah in 2013, Dairsow noticed a startling lack of diversity compared to her hometown in southern New Jersey.

Though the little representation of Black voices surprised her, the number of young Black kids with matted curls shocked her. Mid-shopping spree at Old Navy in the Sugarhouse neighborhood of Salt Lake City, she strode up to a stranger and asked, “If there was an event for you to learn about you granddaughter’s hair, would you come to it?”

“I’m not saying Black people have it all together all the time,” Dairsow said in a Zoom interview, “but that wasn’t something I was used to seeing growing up — matted hair.”

Dairsow planned her first event to be a small seminar on hair care and maintenance at a local curly hair salon. Her second focused on hair styling. “I started to really understand that we’re not just hair,” she said. It quickly became obvious to her that what was missing wasn’t just hair salons, but a community for Black and blended families to identify with. So, she created one.

She founded her nonprofit, Curly Me!, in 2018, describing the organization as, “A resource for families with children of color, specifically Black girls between the ages of 5 and 14.” Since then, her mission has been to help Black girls find their #PURPOSE.

According to the 2019 U.S. Census, African Americans alone make up only 1.5% of Utah’s population. As for multiracial populations, about 2.6% of all Utah residents identify as being biracial, with the mixed-race Black population likely lower.

“We have TRA (transracial adoptive families), traditionally Black [two/single parent] families, biracial families.” Dairsow said. “We want to stand alongside them (parents) to make sure they understand, they don’t have to do it alone.” While Curly Me! is happy to be a resource for transracial families, the nonprofit works with diverse family makeups to be sure to establish confidence for all Black children.

According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, from 2017-2019, 477 of all adoptions in the state were considered transracial, meaning that the adopted child was a different race than the parents.

“My older brother was actually adopted by a white family,” said Latonya Howell, Curly Me! volunteer coordinator, in a Zoom interview. “I’ve noticed that Black children that are raised in Utah by white families, they find themselves kind of in a limbo position … because they don’t feel like they fit in with white people, but they don’t necessarily feel accepted by Black people because they don’t have that cultural connection.”

While many parents provide all they can for their children, Dairsow understands that sometimes that’s just not feasible. “I have had experiences with parents that were very combative, and I understand they love their child, but there are experiences that you won’t experience that your child may — based solely off of their skin color,” she said in a follow-up email.

Curly Me! holds four quarterly events, as well as smaller educational opportunities and programs for children and parents.

Change the World with Her is one of Curly Me!’s largest programs. The event is a speed-dating style “mini-career fair,” where kids spend six to seven minutes at a table learning about a professional and leave with information on that field to do further research.

Curly Me!’s 2020 Change the World with Her, a speed-dating event meant to connect girls with professionals of color. Curly Me! has been holding Change the World with Her once annually since 2017. Photo Courtesy of Curly Me!

Alongside Change the World with Her, Curly Me! hosts an annual back to school fashion show, parent-child slumber party, and tea party. “In a state where not a lot people drink tea, that’s always interesting,” Dairsow said. “So sometimes we just end up drinking lemonade.”

Due to the pandemic, however, they’ve had to move much of their programming online. “We did self-portraits,” Dairsow said. “We did self-care check-ins with social workers and clinicians … We were able have a parent educational event over last (2020) summer because of all the racial tension and police brutality that was going on in our country.”

For the Mitchells, a biracial family working with Curly Me!, the organization has become a great resource for helping their daughters celebrate their Blackness.

In response to the civil unrest amid last year’s Black Lives Matter protests, mother Amber Mitchell said in a phone interview, “When your kids are like, ‘Why don’t they like Black people’ or ‘Why would they do this,’ that’s a hard one to swallow because you’re like, ‘I don’t know.’ I can’t imagine that, that’s not how we were raised to think.”

Though these conversations have been hard, balancing honesty with self-love has been Mitchell’s key to making them a bit easier. Mitchell, who also works on the board at Curly Me!, has taken the time to teach her family the importance of empathy, even taking her daughters to several protests and Women’s Marches around the country.  

Mitchell’s daughter, 9-year-old Jasani, has already become an activist in her own right. Her favorite part of Curly Me! has been the ability to connect with other Black girls and share her experiences with them. “I get to see all different shades of Black little girls and learn about their unique life … and I get to compare what my is life to their life,” Jasani said in a phone interview.

Getting the opportunity to see kids like Jasani grow up has made this journey all the more special for Alyssha Dairsow. For her, a large part of Curly Me! has been supporting families in raising the next generation and making sure that the kids understand they are not alone in their experiences.

“Black girls, there’s all these obstacles stacked up against us that people don’t want to realize,” Dairsow said. “So, as a Black woman, who has experience as a Black girl, this is a resource that I can provide now to youth and their parents.”

Another part of the journey? Finding out who Alyssha is. Many of Dairsow’s post on the Curly Me! blog feature her hashtag #PURPOSE, which she uses to highlight her own struggle to find her place in the world.

“I genuinely feel that I had to come all the way across this country, fail at something I really, really wanted, stay in a place where I didn’t, and from time to time, don’t know if I really want to be, cause you’re far away from family and friends back home,” Dairsow said. “I had to come all the way out here just to find out who Alyssha was and what Alyssha could do, and then realizing we’re just touching the surface.”

As Curly Me! continues to grow in its mission to educate, empower, and encourage young girls of color, it’s important to look back at all its achieved so far. With its three-year anniversary in March 2021, the nonprofit has been able to help countless families.

Curly Me!’s impact is best viewed through the kids it has worked with, like Jasani.

She hopes that readers will remember, “Every Black girl or Black boy, comes in different colors, and they should love theirselves however they are. If they’re a little lighter than a person or darker than a person, that they should love their skin and that they all have something special inside of their skin.”

Sheer Ambrosia: a businesswoman’s journey

Story by JUSTIN GALLETLY

Sherrita “Rita” Magalde is the owner of Sheer Ambrosia, a small business based in Salt Lake City dedicated to baking baklava to sell to customers.

Over the last year, Magalde’s business has reached new heights.

She’s seen a big spike in sales and has met arguably the greatest commercial success of her business’s lifetime.

However, it wasn’t always glitz and glamour for her brand, as she, like many up-and-coming small-business owners, ran into many roadblocks along the way.

Many of these roadblocks predate her business’s very foundation and go back several years before she even came up with the idea to sell homemade baklava.

During a phone interview, she explained that she’s been involved in independent, entrepreneurial endeavors stretching as far back as the mid-90s.

In 1996, she and her then-husband moved from Spain to Salt Lake City due to its reputation as a great place to go skiing.

She started a small mortgage brokerage and later ran a travel agency with her husband.

Despite her success with her independently run business, her relationship with her husband wouldn’t last in the long run.

“We were six years into running the travel agency when we got a divorce and neither one of us wanted to leave the business. So we tried to make it work, but I was very unhappy so I decided to quit. I still wanted to be a business owner, but I wanted something that was all my own, so he bought me out of the agency in 2008, which is when I also started the bakery,” she said.

Rita Magalde

Magalde always enjoyed cooking and baking, having grown up learning from her mother.

Baklava, the dessert Magalde’s business is built around, was primarily learned from hanging around a Greek family she worked with while growing up in North Carolina.

“The baklava has stuck with me through the years, so I decided I wanted to see if I could turn it into a business. So I decided to start slow from home and got a cottage food license from the Department of Agriculture and began my baklava business then,” Magalde said.

Despite her experience running independent businesses in the past, the transition was not a smooth endeavor.

“One of the big differences between running a travel agency and a bakery is now you have to deal with inventory,” Magalde said. “It also isn’t as lucrative a business as a travel agency, so I’m selling my baklava at $3 a piece and wasn’t able to hire people right away. Also, unlike when I began the travel industry, I now had two children and was without a partner.”

She also refused to take any bank loans and only used the funds she gathered from selling her share of the travel agency.

The barrier to entry felt much steeper than previous endeavors.

Over time, she was able to find a degree of success with her business.

In 2013, five years after beginning Sheer Ambrosia, she took a big step to legitimize her business.

She ventured out into a commercial space in hopes of getting more people to take her business seriously.

“I put $50,000 of my own money into the space to build it out and was able to legitimize my business and really bring Sheer Ambrosia to the forefront. People weren’t taking me seriously until I did that,” she said.

Although while her business continued to do well, it didn’t do as well as she had hoped.

After the death of her father, Magalde decided to cut back, as the long hours which required her to work upward of 16-hour days every day of the week took its toll on her.

“I decided to sell the space to another bakery and moved Sheer Ambrosia back into my home,” Magalde said. “I fell into some debt, and my son who was graduating high school wanted to go to an expensive college. So I said I’m going to sell my home so I could get out of debt and allow my son to go to the college he wanted to attend.”

Things got especially stressful when the pandemic hit.

 Magalde’s business, like many small businesses, was severely hit when it all began.

“No one wanted baklava, they all wanted toilet paper and hand sanitizer, so I had to get another job to make ends meet when the pandemic hit,” she said.

Rita Magalde

Then, in the midst of the pandemic, a tragedy occurred that shook the entire nation to its core.

“In horror, we got to see George Floyd murdered before our very faces by a Minneapolis police officer. Black people have been watching this kind of thing happen for years, and it seems as though the white community has been oblivious to it,” she said. “Right after that, there were so many white folks in the community who decided they wanted to support local Black-owned businesses.”

While Magalde was initially reluctant to embrace this swell of support because she didn’t want to feel she was capitalizing off a tragedy, she changed her mindset when she realized how it played into a good cause.

“I started to think about it and saw that these were people who don’t necessarily want to protest in the street. They don’t want to get out there and hold a sign and yell, and walk the street protesting that way. This is their way of putting their money where their mouth is by supporting Black-owned businesses,” she said.

She also came to realize that while they may initially support her business because she’s Black, that didn’t mean they would continue their support if her products weren’t satisfying.

“It’s still my job as a business owner to make sure they want to come back by giving them a quality product and amazing service. So it’s not going to be free service, I still have to earn their repeat service, so this a challenge for me,” she said.

The success led to a busy holiday season, one where she would need some additional help if she was going to continue thriving.

Helene Simpson and her daughter, Desi Hayda, offered their services.

“She’s very dedicated. She’s very grateful for everything, and it’s hard that it was the death of somebody which created an influx of sales, her product is what continues her business and for people to come back to her,” Simpson said during a phone interview. “It’s not just because people think ‘Black Lives Matter’ and only supporting her for that reason. She sells quality products, has excellent customer service.”

Simpson said she appreciates Magalde’s positive guidance.

“I think she’s very thorough. Just how she explains things to you and wants things done, and that’s to be expected because everything she does is pretty perfectionist, so you just follow her instructions and help her out when you can. She’s awesome to work for,” Hayda said.

“Now I’ve got a following that I can parlay this into growth for my business, and I’m hoping for one day to quit my second job and go back to running my business full-time,” Magalde said.

Living the blues

Utah musician Harry Lee will do whatever it takes to perform the music he loves and provide for his family

Story by JONATHAN WISTRCILL

Everyone grows up dreaming of doing what they love, but life usually has a different plan. Something always seems to get in the way and trying to balance a full-time job while pursing one’s dream is even more challenging to uphold. But if a person is truly passionate about something, isn’t it worth a try?

This is the story of Harry Lee and over the course of his life he was able to not just try but also thrive in his work and doing what he loves.

Lee was born in Wyoming but grew up in Salt Lake City, where he was the youngest of seven children. His parents Beatrice and James Lee were both deacons at the Calvary Baptist Church. Growing up in a church not only inspired a strong sense of faith in Lee, but one in music as well. He began singing and listing to gospel music at a very young age, and it did not take long for him to fall in love with not just the gospel genre but all types of music.

Harry Lee doing what he loves: singing the blues. Photo courtesy of Excellence in the Community.

Lee went to his first concert when he was 10. He was not going to watch just a random musician, but the legendary James Brown himself. “He was the showman of all showman,” Lee said in a Zoom interview. “He danced, sang and his band was really tight. It was a performance I will never forget.”

Lee’s parents could not afford to send him to any music classes, but he was able to participate in his school band from the fourth to the ninth grade. He joined his first garage band in junior high and even though he never got paid the experience of being part of a band was one that Lee grew to love. He also fell in love with blues music and the emotional weight the songs carry.

He moved to California after high school, where he attended a small junior college and majored in music. This was the point in Lee’s life where things did not go to plan, so he decided to move back to Utah where he attended Salt Lake Community College. The location was not the only part of college that was changing for Lee though, as he decided to pursue a degree in criminal justice. While in California he had begun working in law-enforcement and found a new calling in the security industry.

Lee worked in security from his college days till his retirement in 2015. When he retired it was as the chief of security for the Department of Workforce Services in Salt Lake City.

For many, choosing this field would have meant the end of their passion, but not for Lee. He was determined to still do what he loved by working as a security guard by day and playing the blues at night. But for that to happen he would need to form a band.

Lee began attending some Monday night jam sessions at a Salt Lake City bar called the Dead Goat Saloon. Over time he was able to befriend different musicians and form his own band called, “Harry Lee and the Back Alley Blues Band.” The group was founded in 1982 and although a few of the members have changed over time the group dynamic has always been strong.

“Band chemistry is very important,” Lee said. “You got to check your ego at the door and be ready to play music. If you have fun with people that you’re working with then the music will be good.”

Lee is the lead singer and plays the harmonica for the group. One of the first musicians he recruited for his band was a bass player named Mike Ricks. Ricks is still in the band and he remembers what drew him to Lee in the first place was their shared passion for the blues.

“He loves playing the blues and so do I,” Ricks said in a Zoom interview. “I think our musical ideas seem to accentuate each other. We have this open idea about playing where we get a basic arrangement and add a verse here or solo there to try and make something different. It is kind of a free-flowing type of music which makes it fun to play.”

The bond that Ricks discussed is shared by Lee with his other bandmates as well. “These guys are phenomenal,” Lee said. “You can call them up and we’ll just play. They’re really professional and fun to be with.”

Lee is close with his bandmates, but he has an even deeper connection to his wife Wendi Lee. They first met at Wendi’s sister’s wedding back in 1996 and were married soon after. “She’s great, I don’t know how I landed her,” Harry said. “Once we got to know each other we decided that we couldn’t live without one another.”

Lee had been married before and raised seven kids. This time however felt different, and that feeling is shared by his wife. “He’s the most amazing man you’ll ever meet,” Wendi said in a Zoom interview. “He’s kind, supportive and a very spiritual person. I can’t name a bad quality about him.”

The first time Wendi watched her husband perform was an experience she will never forget. “I was just mesmerized by not just the man but the performer,” she said. “He sings with such heart and he loves what he does.”

Harry has helped her raise her two children and made sure to always be there for his wife.

Harry Lee and the Back Alley Blues perform live. Photo courtesy of Excellence in the Community.

With everything going on his world one may think it would have been difficult for Lee to balance it all, but he has his priorities well organized. “Family comes first,” Lee said. “I love music, but I got to make sure my family is fine and then I can go do the things that I need to do with my music, but they have to come first.”

Lee considers himself lucky to have worked with such great musicians and performed all over the country and the world. With COVID-19 closing all concert venues for the past year he has only been able to perform twice in that time span. The most recent of these performances being with Excellence in the Community concert series on Feb. 6, 2021.

“It’s been tough,” Lee said. “I’m hoping and praying that people have been starving for live entertainment and we can get out and fulfill that here soon.”

No matter what happens next for Lee, bandmate Mike Ricks knows he will persevere through it like he always has when adversity has struck in his life.

“He’s had some hard times and had to pay his dues,” Ricks said. “He did it, he got through it he played the blues, he lived the blues, he felt the blues.”

%d bloggers like this: