Southeast Asian culture, music & life in the USA
Tens of thousands of people show up to Lao New Year in Modesto, Songkran in the Valley, and Cambodian New Year in Providence — and most of the people running these festivals are in their twenties. A look at the logistics, family drama, and TikTok halo dancers behind Southeast Asian America's biggest celebrations.
An opinion piece: while fighters get belts and gyms get followers, the mothers and grandmothers cooking for entire camps and driving kids to every smoker are the real backbone of America's Muay Thai boom. It's time they got more than a thank-you in the caption.
Thai numerology, Vietnamese phong thuy, and Khmer horoscopes have officially gone digital — and the aunties are cashing Venmo requests before you can say 'mercury retrograde.' Inside the group chats where divination meets DMs.
Muay Thai and Lethwei are having a mainstream moment in the US, and much of the credit belongs to immigrant families who never stopped training. Inside the gyms where pad work, heritage, and community share the same ring.
The trunk is full of fruit, your outfit was chosen without your consent, and an aunty has already asked about your love life. Welcome to the most chaotic, beloved tradition of the Southeast Asian American calendar.
From family birthday parties in Anaheim to packed Khmer-language lounges in Houston, karaoke remains the beating heart of Southeast Asian American social life. We spent weekends in the booths to find out why nobody ever wants to be the last one singing.
For decades, the question of what counts as 'authentic' Southeast Asian food in America has been answered mostly by people who aren't Southeast Asian. A new wave of food writers and critics from within these communities is pushing back — and finding out the conversation is a lot more complicated than it looks from the outside.
From temple-inspired community centers in Little Saigon to Khmer motifs woven into public murals in Long Beach, Southeast Asian American architects and urban designers are fighting to make their aesthetic traditions part of the American built environment. It's not just about beauty — it's about belonging. And the pushback they're getting says a lot about who gets to shape a city.
After the rest of the world logs off, a quiet wave of Southeast Asian Americans is clocking in — not just to hospitals and convenience stores, but to recording sessions, writing desks, and podcast booths. These are the overnight workers who refused to let exhaustion have the last word.
For a long time, 'authentic' was a word used to police Southeast Asian Americans into a corner. Now a new generation is reclaiming it — and their elders are slowly, sometimes reluctantly, coming around. From bánh mì with gochujang to Buddhist altars with Spotify playlists, this is what cultural evolution looks like from the inside.
For Southeast Asian American musicians, sampling isn't just a production trick — it's an act of preservation, protest, and pride. From dusty field recordings to endangered instrument tones, these producers are building a sonic archive that Hollywood and the mainstream industry never bothered to protect.
When a traditional Hmong lullaby shows up in a blockbuster trailer without a single credit, somebody has to say something. A new wave of Southeast Asian American musicians and cultural advocates are doing exactly that — and they're not being quiet about it.
From neighborhood soccer fields to college rosters, Southeast Asian American athletes and coaches are doing more than competing — they're reshaping what it means to belong in American sports. Here's how a new generation is turning athletic spaces into cultural strongholds.
When the ceremony ends and the reception kicks off, Southeast Asian American wedding DJs face a challenge no playlist app can solve: keeping grandma happy while the cousins lose their minds on the dance floor. Meet the selectors turning multigenerational chaos into pure magic.
You don't need a Sunset Boulevard address to make a song that slaps. Across the suburbs and smaller cities of America, Southeast Asian American producers are building real careers from their bedrooms, basements, and spare rooms — and the music world is starting to notice.
Long after the office Slack goes quiet, a whole generation of Southeast Asian Americans is firing up their laptops, prepping their meal kits, and building something entirely their own. These aren't side hustles born from desperation — they're empires built in the margins of a nine-to-five, powered by a cultural work ethic that simply doesn't know how to quit.
From digitized Tet fundraisers to blockchain-based mutual aid networks, a new generation of Southeast Asian Americans is transforming how communities take care of each other. They're not abandoning the values their grandparents carried across oceans — they're upgrading the delivery system.
Hollywood keeps saying Southeast Asian stories don't sell. A new generation of directors and screenwriters is proving them wrong — one festival premiere and streaming drop at a time. Here's how they're doing it without waiting for permission.
For Southeast Asian American parents, the real parenting challenge isn't screen time limits — it's teaching kids why the phone goes down when the incense goes up. Families across the country are figuring out how to hold TikTok in one hand and tradition in the other, and the results are messier, richer, and more creative than anyone expected.
A new generation of Southeast Asian American authors, poets, and memoirists is doing something quietly radical — writing in English while refusing to leave their heritage languages behind. They're not choosing between cultures; they're building something entirely new in the space between them.