I was Chicago's Only Female Asian American Pop Music Reporter

And that made me a target

Katie Couric and me bonding on the set of the TODAY show.

About that headline… I should note that I was the only full-time female Asian American pop music critic and/or staff writer in Chicago at that time (and maybe since then as well??).

Every now and again, I receive some really amazing emails and direct messages from other writers. They’re almost always young Asian American women who have carved out their own careers as pop culture journalists. And they thank me (!!) for being a role model. And while those types of compliments are wonderful to hear, it’s also somewhat embarrassing for a variety of reasons — the main one being that I’m not famous, or rich, or worldwide famous.

But. What I have come to terms with is that for a long time, I was the only one (or one of a few) Asian American women working in a field that hasn’t been particularly inclusive to minorities of any kind.

Before I get into the nitty gritty, I’ll begin my story with an anecdote.

I was thinking about a time many years ago when my son and another little boy exchanged words on the basketball court. Things were said that neither had meant and I know they both felt bad about it. My child apologized for his part in the altercation and the other boy reciprocated. By the end of the game, they were smiling and patting each other on the back.

They were just seven years old.

The other day, a friend brought up an incident. She wanted to know if I ever heard from a pair of male writers who tried to tear me down for years in a public forum.

I asked her why she would bring this up after a couple decades had already passed.

“When it was happening, I felt like a shitty friend who didn’t defend you, because I didn’t know what I could do,” she said. “It must have been embarrassing and hurtful to go through that. It wasn’t fair.”

To be honest, I hadn’t thought about this in a long time. And when I do, I do find myself irritated — not because I’m embarrassed by what they wrote (they’re the ones who should be ashamed of their asinine behavior), but because I had wanted to sling shit right back at them.

But what would that have accomplished? All it would’ve done was satiated their constant need for attention.

Thinking about it now, I see so many things that I didn’t as a young reporter. I see their white privilege, which was tinged with racism, sexism and jealousy. How dare an unqualified Asian woman whose intelligence obviously was inferior to their own have a more prestigious and higher-paying job than they had? I must’ve gotten my job because I’m a woman. I must’ve been an Affirmative Action hiree. In their minds, I was the reason they didn’t have better jobs.

These men both knew how deadline reporting worked. They knew who was responsible for writing the headlines, which department dealt with the photographs, what the copy editor’s duties were and what the editor’s responsibility was. Yet, any time there was a mistake anywhere near one of my articles, they reported this error as if this mistake was my fault (and, sometimes, it was!) and as if this was actual news, rather than an unfortunate, daily occurrence that happens in every. single. publication. in the world — including their own:

See?

They would say their attacks on me weren’t personal, but they would be lying. They consistently singled me out and overlooked glaring errors by their cronies. Yay?

And they created Fake News by cobbling together bits and pieces of my articles to make me sound as teenybopperish as possible. One of them — and really, who can tell the difference between the two — made fun of the fashion tidbits I included at the bottom of my column. Of course, he failed to mention the meat of the column, which covered topics such as sexism.

Meanwhile, the other called me out for quoting a musician who was talking about sampling. They insisted that I didn’t know the difference between playing instrumentals and sampling a song. After all, how would an Asian woman know anything about music — other than classical, of course.

Bitch, please.

Perhaps incensed that the songwriter went on record contradicting their “daft” accusations, they elevated their sexism to a new level. They devoted yet another column to my flaws, where they literally infantilized me, slapping my face on the body of a bobby socks-wearing teenybopper.

How did they depict my male counterparts? They hired one of the city’s most famous photographers to take an “arty” photo of their shoes, claiming that “like most pop critics they were too humble to show their faces.”

Riiiiiigggggghhhhhhttttttt…

In the subsequent years, I would face real-life issues that deeply impacted my life. I would lose my baby in my second trimester. My beloved father would die.

The “reporter wars,” as some readers dubbed it, was nothing more than a prolonged irritation that their bosses allowed and encouraged. After I responded to their libelous harassment literally once, I was accused of pulling the racism and sexism card.

Because that’s how weak-minded racist (and sexist) assholes roll.

ETA: I just remembered that I did kinda-sorta pave the way at Northwestern University. I was in the broadcast journalism program (not because I wanted to be a broadcast journalist, but because I wanted to be employable — I was already writing professionally for magazines and newspapers). Because of my interest in pop culture and my access to interviews with well known creatives in the arts, we created the entertainment beat — a beat that hadn’t existed prior to me.

© 2024 JAE-HA KIM | All Rights Reserved

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QUOTED:

I was quoted in Regina Kim’s recent Huffington Post article: When I Visited South Korea Last Year, My Blended Identity Complicated Everything

FWIW, most of my quote was truncated for space. But I did want to make it clear that I do not like getting my photo taken in general. Period. So it was no big deal for me to have a photo taken with this random soldier who is not a family member. However, it seemed important to the tour guide, which is why I acquiesced. My feelings were not hurt at all. I did find it curious, though, who he said yes (and no) to. I do feel that he wanted to leave a good impression for foreigners.

This is my full quote:

When I went to the DMZ, the tour guide was encouraging us to go take photos with the soldiers who were helping out. I’m not sure why, because the policy was that you can’t publish or share those photos on social media or in print. And I was hot and sweaty and didn’t want my photo taken. But they kept encouraging me to get my photo taken with the head soldier.

So after he was done taking photos with other tourists, I asked him for a picture. He said no, he can’t take photos in here. And then he took photos with other tourists. He lied right to my face. I have no idea why. They other tourists weren’t models or celebrities. They were all middle-aged visitors like me. But they were white. I don’t know if that made any difference, but it seemed to. It felt like he felt comfortable being rude to me because I was Korean enough to ignore.

Later, one of the few women soldiers there and I made small talk. I mentioned that my niece is a high-ranking officer in the military. I’m not sure if she saw what had happened earlier, but she asked if we could take a photo together. I appreciated her warm gesture.

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