Notes from the Lab: Lessons on Making Meaningful Change
7th West’s big heart can literally be seen all the way from the highway. It’s a big sculpture pulsating blue and red and purple from their outdoor patio, and it lights up the night whether you’re simply just out in West Oakland or crossing the Maze to get to your next destination.
I stood glancing at this jagged big heart in the middle of what would eventually become one of our favorite (and Filipino-owned) spaces, waiting for the first cohort of Kollaboration recruits to arrive. For the past few months, they had interviewed, onboarded, and worked exclusively online. They were full of energy and great ideas, and yet, I knew that if we weren’t able to hit it off in-person, everything we had been planning would all be up in the air. I ordered a drink and hoped for the best.
Kollab SF had first come across my mind when a friend forwarded me their recruitment email. A volunteer organization uplifting and empowering Asian Pacific Islander and Desi American (APIDA) artists sounded too good to be true. As someone laser-focused on both media studies and ethnic studies, it felt like the intersection of so many of my interests and passions. Being asked to eventually lead Kollab SF was a challenge that seemed incredibly daunting with my level of experience.
I gave it time, and weeks later, my tune had changed, and I decided to commit to the task of running a whole organization as co-Executive Director with my teammate Michelle Sim. Together, we agreed tentatively to say yes. Of course, after freakouts, prayers, deep breaths to push back the stress, and strategy sessions, there was no turning back. Here are some thoughts I had looking back at the past few years that I hope are helpful to anyone looking to make an impact and work towards social change:
Community takes work
Nothing beats building community over warm food and good drinks. Kollaboration SF is in the unique position of representing a particularly large region to uphold volunteer engagement, support artists, and run events. We’ve had volunteers as far north as Sacramento, as far east as Stockton, and as far south as San Jose. And yet, for all of our Zoom meetings, big events, and shared docs, I’ll remember most the before-and-afters, the setups and cleanups, the sound checks and the afterparties.
The first event I organized was a Panda Express fundraiser about two months after Michelle and I had started as Executive Directors. No one I knew ended up coming, and I felt disappointed with the final donation tally. When Michelle (or as I call her, Moosh) and I began meeting in a combination laundry/coffee shop in the Mission, we knew that we needed to start by keeping things simple to build our own team culture. Slow starts like the Panda Express event reiterated that building up the community we wanted was not going to happen overnight. After honing our recruitment process, we began with a small team. Christina, Kat, and Des began to organize workshops and open mics at boba shops. I met long-time Kollab artists like Brian Dublin and would get inspired seeing Casey Rico at NorCal Night Market emphasize the importance of youth seeing themselves reflected on stage and on screen. Soon enough, we would speak at Complex Dance Competition to thank our friends at Full Potential Dance Co., or I’d find a Clubhouse room to talk about Kollab, and we’d find folks from the creative community interested in giving back and the work we were doing.
As the team began to expand, we tried to pivot our strategy. Building culture was important to set down roots, but we needed to grow something if we wanted to have real impact. Late nights on Zoom after we finished Kollab work became time to open up about our lives and argue over the merits of what we’d been watching and playing. However, while it was incredibly meaningful to connect with folks we otherwise would not have gotten to know, we wanted to be more than just a friend group or club. It also was difficult to keep up time to get to know each other when so many of us came from all over the Bay. Taking action meant finding projects and initiatives that we could rally around. Our annual showcases became events that required everyone to find where they could contribute, rallying our team to use the full breadth and depth of their talents. Launching more original work, from our podcast to APIDA Heritage Month campaigns, allowed people to display their individual talents and passions on a collective level.
We would also drive down to LA for national Kollaboration events like the EMPOWER conference or the STAR competition. Those trips were vivid reminders of why we came together to meet each other’s needs as a community, versus silently competing for scraps under a bamboo ceiling. I proudly cheered on representatives from our city chapter like singer Rachel Bergado and was taken back to the first time her voice blew the staff away in a small, dimly lit recording studio. There’s always the stories that you build together as well. I had gone down to the hotel lobby to grab food after our late night celebrations and KBBQ. Minutes into my French toast, I remember seeing my friends (and co-volunteers) sheepishly sitting at the opposite end of the lobby, completely soaked, and wondering exactly what was going on. I later found out the showerhead had burst and water had gone everywhere, except onto my suitcase. Seeing Dustin and Long’s exasperated faces made me simultaneously bust out in laughter and freak out over if we would be charged for it. Those were the aspects that would make community life feel like a fairy tale - unbelievable but elemental and still fully complicated and fun.
Deb of ENTNS Entertainment, Ruby Ibarra, Long Vo, Rachel Bergado, Josh Ko, Stephanie Kim, and Dustin Laborde walk down the red carpet at Kollaboration STAR in Los Angeles, CA on December 7, 2019.
Communicate with empathy and intention
After years of successfully producing showcases and workshops for artists to thrive and learn, we thought it was time to try our hand at creating more consistent programming in-house. Creating our podcast, Gold & Great, was a months-long effort that would not have been possible without our team’s willingness to experiment and put in time and energy to try to put on the show we wanted to hear. There were long days recording and long nights making sure we got grant applications done in time. Three seasons in, we’ve been able to talk to amazing guests, including Simu Liu, Chef Kathy Fang, Brain Dublin, Jimmy Wong, and Zahra Noorbahsh, thanks to our talented team. Throughout, philosophical disagreements and logistical challenges helped to strengthen our process. There were struggles throughout to understand everyone’s responsibilities in making an episode ready for launch. Miscommunications often needed a couple minutes on the phone or over Zoom to iron out a nuance that wasn’t present in a Slack message. Over time, I began to get more comfortable calling out when there was something I still wasn’t quite clear about, even in spaces where I was supposed to be the one in charge.
The podcast was one example over many highlighting the importance of two-way communication between everyone involved in a project. I always saw our work get better when we took initiative to get notes not just from staff officially involved with a project, but anyone and everyone, including the larger community. As a fully volunteer-based organization, it was also so helpful to see people advocate for their needs when we had blindspots. A staff member was busy with school work but still wanted to participate, and we were able to accommodate his schedule so he could continue to make videos and host some of our events. Another had a conflict with a fellow volunteer and needed support addressing it, and we were able to do our best to mediate and bring reconciliation. That’s not to say we were perfect - organizations are run and supported by broken, messy people doing their best, and we didn’t always get it right. However, the odds got higher when we took time to really understand what people were saying and where they were coming from before working together to find solutions.
Moving into 2020, my co-lead decided to pursue other opportunities, so there was definitely a mishmash of fear and excitement over trying to think about how to run the organization alone. I put together an executive team of both formal and informal leaders who brought different perspectives on our work. Those emotions were compounded as we all entered a global pandemic and a national reckoning on police brutality against the Black community and an uptick of anti-Asian violence. How could our little group contribute to societal shifts in attitudes and beliefs over racial injustice and inequities? Trial and error taught us to value simplicity and to focus on our strengths. For example, if there was an organization like Oakland Bloom educating refugee chefs in the East Bay, we could organize a charity stream with our artists and friends to raise awareness and funds for their work instead of trying to do everything on our own.
In the digital world, it can be even more challenging to understand what people are trying to say or get across. It makes it even more important to value people’s time and express ideas in a way that is focused and clear, something a lot easier to advise, rather than put into practice. A complicated proposal needed to be accompanied by some fun slides that outlined a clear objective and everyone’s roles. A big part of moving forward on projects was making space to not just listen to everyone in the room, but understanding how to help people listen to others. Some took in information better by listening to people speak, while others took or read notes. I found that phone calls on outdoor walks during lockdown helped me to really practice listening to people and were often richer than sending an email and hoping for the best. It took intention to make sure people were heard and felt heard - the pandemic was also another reminder to really try and meet people where they are with so much going on in people’s lives and the world. With that knowledge, we were able to make sure that we switched up methods for brainstorming and planning to make sure everyone could be at their best.
This year, we finally announced and began the Kollaboration SF Artist Network, a dream years in the making. After losing many of our common spaces to the pandemic, from showcases to other social gatherings and workshops, we brainstormed how staff and creatives could continue to build on the work we had already done. We envisioned a hub for local creatives to eventually support, mentor, and build community together. This was both in the DNA of our name and a new challenge, having previously almost fully focused on in-person events/workshops, but it was all still in the spirit of creativity and growth that makes up our values. The team and I worked on this idea knowing that there is a glut of online communities out there - a largely good thing! However, when we develop resources, we hope and plan for them being accessible, clear, helpful, and exist for a very specific purpose to stand out and make a difference. After piloting the network with some of our Kollab alums, we got good feedback on making more specialized communities for artists of different disciplines to connect. When working on something for the “community,” never lose sight of the fact that its success hinges on you and your team working to meet the needs of your intended audience by actively listening and learning.
Growth is natural and necessary
In my second year as Executive Director, I remember getting ready to speak at a meeting about a new program we wanted to start. I wanted to make sure I had everything right. Yet, as soon as I finished presenting, I got lots of constructive feedback about all the points I hadn’t thought about. How was this a feasible timeline? Who exactly would be responsible for what? I left that night feeling like I had messed everything up. It took a couple days for me to realize that it was all part of the process. I alone did not need to come up with or know all the answers.
There was always a little voice in my head telling me why I was never going to be the best person for this job. It might make for a tidier end to this piece to say that I learned to tune this voice out. The reality is that for all the imposter syndrome I gave myself, that little voice also reminded me that there were lots of ways to continue growing in this role. I just had to remind myself that growth was okay and part of the process. I heard a while back that a former volunteer thought our chapter was run like a college organization. It may or may not have been intended as a slight, and I’ll never know which way or another. Regardless, I know that if I’d heard it in that first year I started, I would have been incredibly insecure about it and taken it rather personally. I think I always just assumed and wanted to believe that growth was more like an Instant Pot when it was really more like a slow cooker. Good things take time to make and deepen as they age.
I’m grateful that when I eventually learned about the comment, I could take it with a lot of grace for myself. I was just out of college that first year I became Executive Director, and so of course I would have taken what I knew to try and make it work. I also recognized how much I had grown and learned from others to adapt how we functioned and changed at Kollab. I could look back and see my early ideals quake under the reality of a staff and a community wanting connectivity, clarity, and organization. I saw myself doing things I never thought I would do. I got more opportunities to host and produce a podcast, and to feel the adrenaline of making people laugh, stalling for time while the next artist got ready at a showcase. Michie got me to join an outdoor dance party at one of our street fair functions, and at another, I somehow volunteered to join a public spicy lumpia eating contest. I saw losing my co-lead as an opportunity to recognize where I lacked, and support new leaders to be strong where I was weak, growing all the time because there was simply no other option. All of this, of course, happened in a garden where I was surrounded by all of us adapting and changing, rooted in our support for each other.
After four years as Executive Director and five at Kollaboration SF, it’s time to bring in a new, fresh vision to continue to move this organization forward in its second decade. I have been privileged to learn from leaders like Minji Chang, former Kollaboration SF and Kollaboration Global Director, and Michelle Sim, my former co-Executive Director, and now I continue to look for new ways to help people helping other people. I’m excited to introduce our next Executive Director, Celine Ty, who brings years of writing/editing expertise from her work in the field and within Kollaboration SF! Our work is more vital than ever, pushing APIDA storytellers at every part of the process forward after decades of mainstream narratives trying to tell our story for us. Representation runs hand in hand with education and action, and it’s on everyone to embrace all three if we are going to move forward as a community. I look forward to seeing what’s ahead for us, emboldened by organizations like Kollab SF to both step up and speak up.
I still remember that night at 7th West, and the way that the energy of seeing and laughing with folks in person could feel. We laughed at the unusual task of introducing ourselves after seeing each other over Zoom for months. There were photo shoots with a cameo appearance by another patron’s dog. The lumpia and drinks especially hit the spot. We played games and helped someone figure out how to update his dating profile. In that moment, we believed that we could take on it all - the entertainment industry, apathy, the way things had been done - and we could do it together. That naiveté may feel quaint now. But how else are we going to start getting to work?