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- Bi-Monthly By Ryan #21
Bi-Monthly By Ryan #21
A twice-monthly newsletter by Ryan Jafar Artes
Ryan Artes
June 11, 2025
On the evening of Sunday, June 1, 2025, wren and I hosted the first annual rainboWEB @ The Adoptee Open Mic. This event was the second in a series that features our individual events, and friendship. We hosted a virtual coloring party— I colored with stickers in a hip-hop coloring book gifted to me by Juanita.
“Magic shatters through every heart, every soul, every being. It connects us all, threading through the shell of humanity.”
Dear Friends,
This newsletter is an act of love. I write this newsletter as a commitment to myself, my activism, and my art. Sometimes I think I will write my newsletter ahead of time, for the sake of not having to write it on the day I send it out.
I never do. I always find myself waiting until the last minute to write my newsletters. For this reason, I have given myself an intentional deadline, which I have reframed to myself as a “lifeline,” as I was inspired to do by Katelyn, whose language was inspired by one of her friends.
A lifeline is an act of self care, self preservation, and self witness. A lifeline encourages me to reach out to myself and others, and figure out whatever it is I need to do for myself in order to achieve whatever it is I am trying to achieve. In the case of this newsletter, I always wait until the last minute to write it so I can offer my most accurate information— mostly because I allow myself to change my mind as much as is necessary as I make my way towards the answers and solutions that are right for me, to whatever my problems and questions may be.
“Israel's war on Gaza should compel a response from Asian Americans, who have been called Oriental, and from any who have been classified or see themselves as other in some way, including writers, especially those who have sought to write through otherness. These responses to the war raise issues of self-defense, inclusion, and solidarity that have great meaning for anyone who has been classified as an other, including Asian American, Palestinian, Israeli, and Jewish writers—all of whom have grappled with what it means to be the monstrous other.”
As a gay, queer, trans, nonbinary, Brown, transracial, transnational, adoptee, immigrant, and displaced person in America, my life is a life of constant advocacy. I am simultaneously visible and invisible to those around me, who clearly see me but clearly do not know how to understand me, by which I mean I never get to rely on the comfort, ease, and privilege of representation. American culture does not offer me accurate representation, nor does my family, which makes finding representation extremely difficult for me to do.
For this reason, I know how to create my own representation, and so I do. I know how to advocate for others because I know how to advocate for myself, and so I do. And, I also know advocacy is exhausting, lonely work, and yet I continue to do so for both myself and others.
Those who know me know I truly believe in a better world for all of us. I not only see clearly how to achieve such a world, but also am making my way towards the world in which I want, need, desire, and care to live by building it for myself, first and foremost, which means I am also world-building for our collective selves. My work has led me to deeply understand, and feel, that we already are each other, and reflects this knowledge, and knowing.
“She didn’t understand exactly what he meant, but she liked being part of an us. People thought that being one of a kind made you special. No, it just made you lonely. What was special was belonging with someone else.”
June’s session of The Adoptee Open Mic was truly lovely. Afterwards, I continued a conversation with Marguerite about the difference between being in friendship and being in community with someone. I was elated to see a look of understanding wash over her face at the moment it did during our conversation, which has been ongoing for five years.
I have been hosting The Adoptee Open Mic for six years now. My event is a portal into the world I want, need, desire, and care to create, carrying me towards my community, in the most surprising and unpredictable ways, always, and I do mean each and every time! My arrival to my community is always surprising and unpredictable in the most delightful ways.
I know how to create, find, and manufacture meaning. One of my answers is to read, and write, and so I write down quotes, and am in constant conversation with myself about whatever it is I happen to be reading, and writing. Another of my answers is to call forth my community, and so that is exactly what I do.
Love, Ryan <3
Ongoing:
Please contribute to my GoFundMe campaign if you can afford to do so. Scrolling through the list of donors truly makes me feel so loved. Thank you for loving me y’all. <3
Check out my poem on The Quarry, A Social Justice Poetry Database curated by Split This Rock. I was most nervous about recording myself reading my work, so be sure to give that a listen. My nerves almost got the best of me but then I got it after only 12 takes (lol).
I am teaching the third run of Letters to Our Homes, a generative letter writing workshop for Black and Brown adoptees only, this fall. See Bi-Monthly By Ryan #20 for my most up-to-date course flyer. I will devote an entire newsletter to Letters to Our Homes in the future— please reach out to me directly to sign up.
For those of you who are paying attention, you might remember that I was debating whether or not to host a return of Let’s Thrive Together this summer, which was to be an experimental poetry workshop for Black and Brown adoptees only. I decided not to do so. Instead, I am pursuing a creative writing career— please let me know if you have any leads for an inspirational, nontraditional, unconventional teacher such as myself!