From First Festival Feels to Full-Circle Representation

My first time going to a festival and not being in my 20s felt like a personal challenge. But I'm in my do what makes me happy era now.

The past couple years, I’ve been moving through a season of deep loss. In the span of twelve months, I said goodbye to three people; two college friends and a family member. Losing them reminded me how short life really is. It's a cliché until it hits you directly. Then it becomes something tangible like a pressure on your chest or a whisper in your ear telling you to stop waiting.

You’d think the idea that life can end suddenly would scare me. But oddly, it did the opposite. It released me from fear. From the pressure to always succeed, to never be “cringe,” to get it all right. Now I try new things like business ideas, adventures, or whatever comes to mind. As long as I’m not hurting anyone and it brings me a spark of joy, who cares?

Which brings me back to my first festival experience with HEAD IN THE CLOUDS LA. I thought I’d be anxious. I wasn’t. I may not be in my 20s anymore, but the grit of a woman in her mids? Underrated. A woman in her mids has learned that you can only prep as best you can and if things go sideways, you roll with it. And roll I did. With Advil in hand, I was ready to stand for hours if I had to.

Side note: The Rose Bowl is really poorly designed. It may have worked when they built it a thousand years ago but getting in and out is a nightmare.

Once I finally made it inside, I scoped out the main stage, surprisingly sparse, and wandered toward the side stage. And that’s where I stayed. Seven hours on day one. Five on day two. I have no idea how I didn’t collapse. Sheer willpower, maybe. Or maybe joy makes time and pain move differently.

DPR Ian performing Avalon

I came to see DPR Ian, the Korean-Australian artist who I’ve followed for a while. Seeing other Korean artists like G-Dragon and Dean on the lineup was a bonus. But what I didn’t expect was how emotional I’d feel watching performers from all over Asia. Rappers from Japan, Indonesia, China. Young artists whose music was loud, expressive, alive. This old hip hop head was deep in her feels.

It brought me back to college, AGC (Asian Greek Council) parties, campus shows, little underground dreams. Back then, Asian kids dreamed about being artists. These kids did it. There were thousands of people out there for them. And all I could think was: they look like us. They look like people I would’ve seen at the fraternity and sorority parties. And they’re out here owning stages.

When I was in junior high, I rode the school bus with my Walkman blasting Dr. Dre, never imagining there could be an Asian artist doing anything like that. That’s why when Seo Taiji hit the scene, I lost my mind.

Milli from Thailand

This generation is lucky. They don’t have an “Asian version” of American hip hop. They’ve built something new. A blend of Asian identity and hip hop roots that’s entirely its own. That’s what inspires me. That’s why I keep listening to new music, often by people half my age. Because their imagination and creativity pushes forward with the foundation of the generation that came before them.

Old-school songs bring me back. But new music? That pushes me forward. It reminds me that there’s still more road to walk, still more joy to find.