What it means to take care of yourself across different cultures

As we enter winter and the trenches of finals week, it is important to carve out time to take care of yourself. While social media may inundate us with new, trendy practices weekly, the best ways to take care of ourselves are often the customs we grew up with or those passed down through our families.

Eye massages

Growing up, my Chinese teachers at language school made sure to give us ample break times to do eye massages. Using our fingers, we made circular motions on our temples, nose bridge and beneath our eye sockets. Inspired by the art of acupuncture, these massages target pressure points near the eyes to help increase blood flow and improve vision. Though the effectiveness of the latter has been debated, it’s still good practice to take frequent breaks from blue light monitors and 12-point fonts. So, when you have the chance to take a break from that research paper you procrastinated, try an eye massage and maybe you’ll be able to see that pesky sentence in a new light. 

— Grace Tan, Identity & Equity Editor 

Hair oiling

 A huge aspect of South Asian culture is our long, thick black hair, which represents our strength and perseverance through difficult times. For many Bengali people, hair oiling is part of a weekly ritual to keep our hair shiny and strong. Often, older family members — mothers, aunts and grandmas — will do this by sectioning off layers of your hair and massaging cold, thick oil into it. It may hurt if your hair is tangled, so be sure to brush your hair before to limit pain and your grandma yelling at you to hold still. 

This is a time to connect with your family members who have had the same long, black hair that needed tending to. Coconut oil is the most commonly used oil for hair oiling, and it works wonders for all types of hair. Not only does hair oiling help me maintain healthy hair, it is also a self-care ritual that connects me with my ancestors, one strand of hair at a time. 

— Pritheva Zakaria, Staff Writer 

Menstrual care

Both staples in traditional Chinese medicine, goji berry and jujube tea are especially beneficial for women during menstruation, as they nourish the blood and tonify the liver and kidney. Scientifically, goji berries and jujubes are packed with antioxidants, vitamins and minerals. They also protect eye health, support the immune system, remedy anxiety and promote better sleep. On a further dietary note, according to traditional Chinese medicine, cold food and drinks should always be avoided — this means no chocolate ice cream! I also highly recommend using heating pads on your lower abdomen. Both reusable water pads and Japanese adhesive pads work well, although I prefer the latter due to convenience and mobility.

— Katie Liao, Staff Writer

Yoga

It is commonly said that we must do one thing each for our physical, mental and spiritual health everyday. Yoga is a way to show ourselves care in each of these areas. My first introduction to this culturally Indian practice was through watching my grandmother practice “asanas,” or yoga poses, such as headstands and backbends daily. 

Though yoga is often viewed as a slower, meditative practice, its benefits to the physical body cannot be undermined. As somebody who exercises at the gym regularly, I find that incorporating yoga into my weekly workout routine creates a great balance, because the flexibility that this practice offers complements strength training. I also find the challenge of the asanas exciting because there is always a more advanced version of a pose to strive towards with improved mobility.

— Zara Surti, Staff Writer

Going grocery shopping in Chinatown

As an Asian American, grocery shopping on Sundays became a ritual for my family after Chinese school. We went to the same Asian supermarket and ate at the same pho place so many times that the staff knew our order by heart. 

Now, as a Broome Street resident, I’ve adapted this tradition into a brain break, which proves especially useful with the stress from finals season looming on the horizon. I find peace in studying the faces of the street vendors, realizing how similar the apartments are to those in Shanghai (which I miss dearly), and in practicing my fading Mandarin with the cashier who’s pushing me to buy discounted food. While taking care of yourself looks different for everyone, I highly recommend the simple act of leaving your dorm when the pressure gets to be too much.

— Mia Shou, Contributing Writer

Turmeric face masks

Turmeric face masks have always been a staple in my Pakistani American household. One of the most vivid memories of my early childhood is the feeling of my mother’s hands spreading a mixture of turmeric powder, honey and a bit of milk or yogurt across my cheeks. Whether my skin is breaking out from stress, looking dull or feeling dry, my go-to remedy is a turmeric mask. Even if I am alone, it brings me back to those family moments and calms me down when the world seems too fast. So, if you feel like finals week is starting to take a toll on your skin, take a break and find solace in turmeric face masks. 

— Noor Maahin, Staff Writer

Jjimjilbang (Korean bathhouses)

 During my adolescence, going on vacation to my motherland meant months of relaxation and immersing myself in traditional Korean customs. One such practice was going to a jjimjilbang with my family. Jjimjilbangs, also known as Korean bathhouses, are an important part of social culture in South Korea. While they are generally separated by gender, they also have clothed common areas where people can eat and hang out. After hours of soaking in hot tubs and sweating our stress away, my family and I would share Korean sauna eggs, hard-boiled eggs with a distinct nutty flavor, and drink sikhye, a refreshingly sweet fermented rice drink. 

Regardless of ethnicity, jjimjilbangs are a great way to unwind and socialize with family and close friends. There are many in the New York City area, specifically in Koreatown and Flushing. Helping scrub each other’s backs and wearing yangmeori (Korean lamb’s head towel) together can serve as unconventional ways for you and your loved ones to get closer. 

— Joanne Lee, Contributing Writer

Χύμα στο κύμα (carefree living)

I am from a Greek island in the Aegean Sea, called Icaria. To my fellow Icarians: Don’t hate me for sharing our secrets — the public needs to know. Our jovial way of life is because we value our time and don’t rush. We talk and walk. We swim. We laugh. We dance. We eat well, and drink well — sometimes too much. Most importantly, we surround ourselves with our loved ones, like brothers and sisters.

For myself, self-care is about nursing your mind, body and soul. My reset ritual in New York City is this: going outside and taking a walk, finding a nice bench for a read (perhaps a smoke as well), and then working out to blow off steam. Following my exercise, I have dinner and drinks with my significant other or roommates. This is how I prefer to live. Balance is essential. It’s what I’ve learned from my time in Icaria — try it sometime. Στην υγειά σας!

— Constantine Moore, Contributing Writer

Contact Grace Tan, Pritheva Zakaria, Katie Liao, Zara Surti, Mia Shou, Noor Maahin and Constantine Moore at culture@nyunews.com.

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How multicultural sororities foster community at NYU

In an overwhelmingly bustling atmosphere like New York City, it is easy to feel lost in the crowd –– and disconnected from others –– especially as a college student navigating identity and seeking belonging. For many at NYU, multicultural sororities offer a solution: a place to build close bonds, reconnect with their culture and find others who share similar experiences. 

Traditional Greek life, especially sororities, have long been criticized for their lack of diversity. Multicultural sororities find their roots in the pioneering work of historically Black sororities, which create spaces for Black college students amid the overwhelmingly homogenous Greek life across the nation and wider racial segregation. 

While diversity at NYU is declining, multicultural Greek life at NYU is growing. With 14 fraternities and sororities currently on campus, these groups incorporate cultural traditions with the community element that defines Greek life.

Ashley Luo, a senior at the Gallatin School of Individualized Study, is the vice president of the Multicultural Greek Council at NYU and president of Kappa Phi Lambda’s Epsilon associate chapter, an Asian-interest sorority. Luo had a difficult time adjusting to her new environment but found respite in multicultural Greek life, something she was not aware of before attending NYU. 

“My first semester at NYU was a little bit on the lonely side,” Luo said. “When I went to the first rush event, I felt such a genuine connection with the sisters and the other rushees, which prompted me to keep coming back.”

Elena Wu, a Steinhardt senior, serves as vice president of internal affairs at another Asian-interest sorority, Alpha Kappa Delta Phi. Wu was seeking a stronger connection to her Asian heritage at NYU and she found it through the sorority. 

“I honestly just loved the sisters and the atmosphere,” Wu said. “I felt like I was really welcomed, and I think that [being part of a] multicultural sorority was for me, because it helps me be in touch with my Asian culture and share my culture with those similar to me.” 

Multicultural sororities also create a space for conversations that are not present in traditional Greek life. Morgan Garrett, an SPS senior, is the second vice president and membership chairman of the historically African American Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated’s Lambda chapter at NYU. In an interview with WSN, she spoke about the variety of issues that her sorority is interested in, such as social justice and politics. 

“Our sorority was founded on the basis of helping Black, college-educated women,” Garrett said. “We had a round table last semester called Unity for Change, and we spoke about the political climate and things that our universities were going through at the time.”

Multicultural sororities also help members advance their careers. Garrett attributes the Educational Advancement Foundation — a research scholarship specifically for her sorority — for teaching her grant writing, as well as running the sorority’s Instagram for teaching her marketing and project management skills. Luo similarly noted that her leadership role in Kappa Phi Lambda has made her a better leader, which she says is important in fostering a supportive community.

“You gain a lot of skills being able to serve as a communicator between two people or two different types of entities,” Luo said. “Especially in times of conflict, making sure that you are unbiased, and you’re able to mediate these kinds of conflicts and help different people get to understand where they’re each coming from.”

In line with their mission of promoting diversity, multicultural sororities are not exclusive to specific racial or ethnic groups. Delta Kappa Delta — a South Asian service sorority — includes members from diverse backgrounds such as India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and the Middle East, and also includes those in the LGBTQ+ community. Ambika Polavarapu, a junior majoring in neural science at College of Arts & Science, is the co-fundraising chair and parliamentarian. 

“We allow anybody to come and join as long as they’re interested in doing service and learning about South Asian heritage and history,” Polavarapu said. 

The interviewees expressed a shared hope for the further growth of multicultural sororities at NYU as well as gratitude for the friendships and experiences these communities provided to 

them. 

“I can’t imagine my college experience without my sisters,” Polavarapu said. “I hope to stay in touch with all the girls in my sorority. I have made great friends in that group, and they’ll definitely stay a big part in my life.”

Contact Joanne Lee at culture@nyunews.com.

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Finding community from Manila to Manhattan

Three months ago, New York City felt like a world away from home. Coming from Manila, the capital city of the Philippines, I thought I was used to a vast, fast-paced metropolis. But New York City has its own rhythm — one I couldn’t keep up with at first. I quickly learned that homesickness would be an inevitable part of my journey as an international student. After all, a 17-hour flight back to Manila just isn’t practical for a weekend trip every time I miss home. 

But now, after settling into my first semester at NYU, I’ve come to realize that instead of waiting for home to feel closer, there are ways for international students to uncover pieces of home right here on campus. This cultural melting pot of a university is reflected in its wide range of cultural clubs — one of which is the International Filipino Association, which I am proud to be a part of.

Through IFA, I have met other Filipinos who share similar experiences and backgrounds. Through bonding over our mutual stories of being away from home and our shared love for Jollibee fried chicken, I felt completely welcomed by this community. I look forward to being actively involved throughout my college experience. 

Last November, I attended the annual Mr. Philippines competition, a cross-university event where Filipino student organizations from across New York and New Jersey come together to showcase their talents and share their personal stories. As I sat in the packed auditorium, cheering for NYU’s candidate alongside other Filipino students, I felt a strong sense of unity within our community here in New York. Even so far from home, the Filipino spirit of connection and support remained palpable.  

Off campus, there are other ways that I’ve been able to connect with my Filipino heritage. Last October, I attended the Filipino Comedy Festival which took place in honor of Filipino American History Month. It felt refreshing to laugh at the over-the-top and slightly outrageous Pinoy humor that I’ve been missing. The comedians’ self-deprecating jokes about disappointing their parents by not pursuing nursing careers, the exchange of “f” sounds with “p” due to the thick Filipino accent and other takes on Filipino stereotypes made me feel like I was back in my living room joking around with friends and family.  

Although it may not be exactly the same as back in the Philippines, Filipino food from restaurants like Mama Fina’s and Grill 21, along with the plethora of Filipino food markets and pop-ups dispersed throughout the city, have been a comforting reminder of the flavors and warmth of home.

An ambitious item on my personal New York City bucket list is to try every single Filipino food restaurant in the area. I started this expedition with the Philippines Fest in October. Held in NoHo, the street food fair’s vendors sell Filipino food with their own unique twist. Among the perfectly crispy lechon and saucy kare-kare, my favorite was Daniel Corpuz’s ube cookies — a sweet taste of home that brought me back to my youth. With every bite from a sizzling plate of sisig or a refreshing cup of halo-halo, I’m reminded that no matter how far I am, a piece of my culture will always be within reach. 

Learning about other students’ cultures and experiences is a vital part of life at NYU, especially for international students like myself. But while immersing yourself in such diversity, I believe there is no better way to contribute to the city’s richness and chase away homesickness than by embracing your own heritage. Amid all the excitement and opportunities this city has to offer, I’ve realized that my favorite part of settling in is finding my own corner of Manila in the heart of Manhattan.

Contact Katrina Lorenzana at culture@nyunews.com.

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The letters in my NetID differ from the name I go by. Here’s why.

During my first year, in an introductory computer science class with over a hundred students, my professor handed out exam papers by calling out names. As he tried his best to pronounce the overwhelming amount of East Asian names on his list, correcting himself several times, he realized that it was slowing down the process. Eventually, students were addressed by their NetIDs only.

Considering that the English translation of names in other languages seldom instructs accurate pronunciations, mispronunciations are common. In fact, I’ve always thought the English translation of my Taiwanese name sounded funny — “Ching-Han.” Once, a customer service agent on the phone took “Ching” as my first name and “Han” as my middle name and proceeded to address me as “Ching” throughout the conversation. This made me laugh a little because of how little it sounded like my actual name and how much it sounded like a slur. 

“Just call me Katie,” I ended up saying, like I usually do.

I have been Katie for almost as long as I have been “靚涵”. My dad thought “Catherine the Great” was a savage title but perhaps overly dramatic for a kid, so he landed on “Katie” because his celebrity crush was Katie Holmes. Having a Westernized name isn’t uncommon. Growing up in a bilingual elementary school in Taiwan, half of my classes were taught by native English speakers — usually from the United States — and every kid had a Westernized name the teachers could easily pronounce. 

In establishing myself as “Katie,” “靚涵” became a more intimate identity. My name was chosen keeping in mind my Chinese zodiac sign, my “bazi” — also known as the “eight characters,” a form of Chinese astrology that looks into the unique set of characteristics surrounding the date and hour of one’s birth to interpret people, situations and objects in one’s life — its total strokes and many more mysterious rules of fortune telling. According to the Five Elements Theory of Chinese philosophy, water, wood, fire, earth and metal are believed to be the fundamental elements of everything in the universe. For instance, according to my bazi, my life lacks the water element out of the five elements. In Chinese culture, a name should not be given lightly, as any minor difference is believed to have a major impact on a person’s life. This name thus becomes a relatively private detail of my identity that I do not expect anyone other than my family and closest friends to know. 

As I try to find my footing alone in a foreign country, the once no-brainer choice of signing off as “Katie” has raised the guilt of abandoning my culture. My first confrontation came at the end of my first year when I decided to submit a letter addressed to my grandparents to an online anthology. The letter was a heart-wrenching account of the immense weight the American Dream carries in my Taiwanese family, written not long after the Fourth Taiwan Strait Crisis. 

“If learning English is an achievement in your American Dream, I hope you never understand this letter,” I wrote at the end of the letter. “I wish you never had to have an American Dream.”

In the blank space below “Name” in the submission form, my first instinct was to type “Ching-Han Liao” — it is the only name my grandparents know me by. How could I ever register as “Katie,” a name so foreign to them, when the letter itself protests that? Yet, the first thing my mother did after reading the letter was make me promise to never publicize the letter, especially not in my legal name. 

“It’s not safe,” she said. “It’s too political.”

That night, going against my own promise, I pressed the submit button with my Westernized name in that tiny abyss of blank space. The name that once used to compromise my cultural identity became a shield for my political identity. 

Beyond assimilation and convenience, my Westernized name offers a safety that my birth name sometimes can not. The intricate relationship between two names often stems from the struggle to pin down an exact answer in personal identity when it is inherently multifaceted. In signing off as “Katie Liao” to this piece, I have made a decision, like I have countless times before and will continue to do. No one should be subjected to others’ moral judgement of the name they decide to put down when they are the only person who understands its full meaning. 

Contact Katie Liao at culture@nyunews.com.

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