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By louka yeoul Before I begin this article, it’s necessary to note that quite a few of the performers on “High School Rapper” have appropriated Black culture. While K-hip-hop mainly has issues with stealing from Black artists, K-pop as a whole has appropriated from other cultures as well. Many fans—mostly BIPOC—try to hold idols accountable, yet there are always those who attempt to speak over their voices. As such, I think it’s relevant to include a few links that will explain the cultural appropriation that goes on in the South Korean entertainment and music industries; I want to make space here to shed light on the topic, as avoiding it only adds further harm. Here is a good starting point, which talks about racism and colorism in South Korea and the irony of the fetishization and appropriation of Black culture. This article talks about the disrespectful use of a Hindu god and also links to other examples of cultural appropriation. Mark Lee performed “Drop” with Red Velvet’s Seulgi in the final round of “High School Rapper,” an elimination-based show for, well, high school-aged rappers to see who among them is the best. Lee belongs to SM-Entertainment-managed NCT, a K-pop group, and while he had achieved success before his participation on the show, he battled against the label of “idol rapper,” which belittles those in the K-pop industry as “fake” rappers. Given that he persisted until the final rounds when no one expected a K-pop idol to even last on the show and that he played a significant role in writing the lyrics, “Drop” can be seen as a culmination of Lee’s efforts in breaking free from stereotypes and truly finding himself. Thus, I’ve always seen this song as a message of support.
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By Anya Shukla Even though Clement Kammwamba is currently stuck in the United States, unable to return to his home country, Malawi, due to COVID-19 travel restrictions, he’s taking the time to improve his art. Kammwamba hopes to move away from drawing animals—such as the impeccably-detailed, hyper-realistic lions, tigers, and cheetahs that grace his Instagram page—and explore portraiture. "We’ll see how that goes,” he said, bashful. “I’m still in the process of improving my skills.” He’s selling himself short.
By louka yeoul I’ve grown up quite accustomed to racist comments, so I pushed my Korean heritage as far away from me as possible throughout my childhood. As a result, K-pop was never something I wanted to come close to. But with the rising popularity of the genre, overt racism gave way to a more ironic and subtle fetishization. All of a sudden, being Korean was… trendy. Interesting. The contrasting attitudes were certainly confusing; and while K-pop did help me accept my identity, that definitely didn’t stem from all the people suddenly obsessed with my ethnicity. While I was uncomfortable with myself and the people who saw me as part of an aesthetic instead of a person, I finally decided to give K-pop a go in 2015. I was on a school break and terribly lonely, and I needed something to escape into, whatever it was. So I chose the music closest to me, since so many people I knew enjoyed K-pop, and I was sort of on the fringes of its various fandoms anyways. In other words: I started becoming a fan in eighth grade, right as I was tumbling into the pinnacle of teenagehood. I hadn’t thought much about me before. I had always felt alone. But K-pop forced me to confront myself and the awkwardness which I had been stumbling through thus far.
 Ashley Hajimirsadeghi, an Iranian-American poet and writer. By Jessica Liu “I always try to incorporate poetry into whatever I do,” Ashley Hajimirsadeghi said, grinning. A rising junior at the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT), Hajimirsadeghi’s passion for poetry has continued throughout her college years, and she has continuously found ways to push her boundaries in the craft. Her work, packed with poignant imagery and powerful language, lingers long in the mind after just one read.
 A piece by @goldenastrum, a visual artist and video game designer. By louka yeoul I've known @goldenastrum—who goes by Moon—since we were just fumbling with our adolescence. Back then, I was starstruck (or moonstruck) by their art, and while we’ve both grown up, the awe I feel hasn’t changed.
 "A Walk in the Night," one of Nicolette Scrivner's cartoons. By Jessica Liu “I definitely have way too many ideas, and sometimes I need to focus on just one,” Nicolette Scrivner laughed. “It’s really hard for me to pick because I love them all.” These words capture the passion driving Scrivner’s art, passion evident in the hours of work and energy she devotes to writing and drawing comics. Bold lines and vibrant colors characterize her artwork, making each image eye-catching and captivating.
 Actress, singer, and activist Aneesh Sheth. By Anya Shukla and Kathryn Lau “I dreamt of a world where Shakespeare and the identities I hold could share space,” said Aneesh Sheth during the introduction to her play, “Much Ado About Nothing.”“Because the opportunity for South Asian trans woman like myself to play Beatrice is nonexistent.”
By Anya Shukla  “I hope that my music makes someone happy, or makes someone laugh, or lifts someone up when they’re not doing well,” James Fall said, guitar in his lap. At first glance, I characterized Fall as adorably awkward: he’s more laid back than the typical rock star. But while he may not have the classic guitar-god attitude, his passion for music soon became apparent—between questions, his hands almost unconsciously strayed to his instrument.
 Cadex Herrera, along with several other artists, painted the mural above in George Floyd's memory. Photo credit: Cadex Herrera. By Anya Shukla On May 25, 2020, a group of Minneapolis artists—including Xena Goldman, Cadex Herrera, and Greta McLain, among others—created a mural in honor of George Floyd. Their piece has since received extensive publicity from outlets such as CNN to the Former President Barack Obama himself. We were lucky enough to speak to one of the mural’s designers and painters, Cadex Herrera, to learn more about the artwork, as well as the community response to the piece.
By Anya Shukla In 2019, Elisheba Johnson, Inye Wokoma, Jill Freidburg, and Rachel Kessler started Wa Na Wari, a Seattle organization housed in the historically-Black Central District. Located in Wokoma’s grandmother’s home, Wa Na Wari celebrates Black artistry through events, workshops, and art exhibits. I spoke with Elisheba Johnson to learn more about her artistic practice, as well as Wa Na Wari as a whole. Q: How did you first get started in art? A: I started writing poetry in middle school. I wanted to be the Poet Laureate of the United States—which was, you know, like who ever gets that job, but I thought it’d be cool. Other than that, however, I never really thought I would be in the art world. But something just moved me right before my senior year of high school: I was like, “I want to go to art school.” So I started taking every art class I could take, in school and outside of school, pulled my portfolio together, and got into Cornish College of the Arts.
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