A half a month into the residency and I’m already feeling embarrassment for not being “productive” enough. The truth is that I have been dealing with a lot – among these are medical, relational and spiritual. Conflict, depression, anxiety, grief and more.
My entrance into this residency is in part due to my experience as someone who has experienced anxiety and depression since their teenage years. It’s not always something I’m open to sharing with people because many seem to regard it as commonplace. The responses are often insensitivity, silence and dismissal. Health professionals, in my experience, are sometimes unable to engage when it’s brought up in conversation – eyes open wide, quiet confusion. Mental health struggles are deeply stigmatized in the Korean community. My depression, trauma and anxiety can manifest in subtle ways beyond the obvious – fatigue, confusion and distraction, and it takes a lot of space. And it’s not only been constant/chronic but sometimes comes in waves of severity. It’s not “neuroticism”, they are valid and very real conditions that have had lasting impact on my life.
This is hard to admit because a lot of people don’t want to work with artists who seem limited in their abilities, efforts or capacity. I’ve seen this quite often while working as a filmmaker-artist in Vancouver and Toronto (Coast Salish Territories and Tkaronto). In school, I didn’t realize that my disabilities were legitimate and requested accommodations that were far too weak for fear that my professors would underestimate or judge myself and my work (noting my internalized ableism). Teachers sometimes called me lazy even though I was putting in beyond my utmost. I had the flu, possibly in relation to pushing myself so hard, and was accused of lying (I suppose bullying in relation to systemic oppression was in the mix here). I suffered from the health consequences of trying to perform. “Perform” as something that others expected or thought I was. Not as who I actually am which we all wish was respected and considered in all its nuance. For some Asian students, this is also compounded by the assumption that Asian students are high achievers who are incapacitated by their own standards (please read Stephanie Foo’s What My Bones Know on diasporic trauma).
Throughout my experiences in the art and film industry in Canada and the US, I observed that professionals expect artists’ output and capacity to be endless even if they have disabilities. It’s normalized to work beyond the brink of your limits into burnout. This is on top of being paid artist fees outside of the liveable standard, application fees, and the expectation to be an expert currently informed in all aspects of your field. This was re-affirmed when a recognized producer who saw themselves as an ally also told me that they thought burnout meant success. If successful art is equated with burnout, that inherently excludes disabled people. Because burnout means so much more for us – we may not be able to bounce back, we may not have that privilege. Excluding diverse voices and representation from art and stories has major consequences on many levels – so I would say that’s not helpful… It’s a harmful way of thinking. Also, I want to live. Hopefully a good life.
I’m coming to terms with the fact that depression, anxiety and trauma have affected me more than I care to admit. There is the front-facing artist that seems like they are unaffected and strong. And then there is the authentic self that struggles and is sensitive, whose work is deeply affected by their experiences yet worries about exposing itself to funders, teachers, mentors, peers, public, critics… I haven’t worked in several years despite a period of time when I was fully supporting myself financially through art making. It was too difficult to maintain that momentum when I felt my health dwindling
I have so much to say about what I’ve witnessed, observed and experienced throughout my time as an artist and as a caregiver to those with disabilities. To tell the truth, I’m feeling a lot of anger and pain but feel hesitant to post. There’s the fear that past critics or peers might say something insensitive and unkind about my words, thought, experience and intelligence. But I feel I want to. I’m inspired by fellow artist Michele Dickson’s meaningful posts. I recognize that to share my experiences exposes the harmful dynamic and lack of nuanced understanding of disabilities in arts and film.
