By Justine Trinh
I wrote in my introduction of my review of Victoria Ying’s Hungry Ghost, “Growing up is hard. Growing up Asian American… even more so.” Deb JJ Lee’s In Limbo attests to the truth of these words. Consisting of moments from high school, Lee’s memoir illustrates a variety of issues (including racism, mental health, beauty standards, and the expectation of success) and how it feels to experience the pressures of growing up, compounded by all these stressors.
In Limbo is a coming-of-age graphic memoir that follows Lee as they struggle with being othered and with their home life, where their relationship with her mother is strained. While they have felt othered ever since they and their family have emigrated to the United States, everything gets harder in high school. They do not feel American enough in their American high school, and they do not feel Korean enough in their Korean class. They struggle to keep up with their science classes which results in many fights with their mom. Their friend group changes as they decide to quit orchestra to pursue art. As a result, friendships begin and end. Lee does not feel like they can talk to anyone about how they are feeling and is caught in a precarious space in limbo. Consequently, their mental health plummets, and they attempt suicide. However, through art and self-care, Lee is able to slowly heal.
The narrative begins (and ends) with the discussion of eye surgery. The introduction establishes Lee’s otherness and their internalization of being different. They compare themselves to other beachgoers, and they want to be like them with their so-called perfect characteristics. They state, “If I try hard enough, I can convince myself that I look like everyone around me. I have double eyelids, like her.” There is an emphasis on the eyes as Lee opens their eyes wider with their fingers or looks up beauty tutorials that promise temporary double eyelids in two minutes. Their monolid eyes mark them as different as evident by the other “American” kids that widen their eyes and say “ching chong” as Lee passes by. As a result, Lee wants to get the double eyelid surgery to fit in. While it is culturally acceptable to get this surgery as their mother has also gotten it and it remains the most popular cosmetic procedure in South Korea, their friend, Quinn, is horrified and attempts to convince Lee not to get the surgery. Lee is affected by these contradicting beauty ideals as they are made to feel different by society because of their Asian eyes. However, to change and engage in body modifications to assimilate is also othering as it is so inconceivable that someone would want to change parts of themselves to belong. In either scenario, Lee does not belong, and they realize that if they get the surgery, it will be their choice and for them.
The racism that Lee experiences goes beyond other students: it is also perpetuated by their teachers. While these teachers do not see the immediate harm in their microaggressions, Lee chooses to include these moments in their memoir because they still remember them to this day. They remember the teachers that did not stand up for them and the teachers who mistook them for the Korean girl in the same class and the teachers that butchered their Korean name. In an Instagram reel where Lee discusses when they confronted their high school teachers ten years later, they state that while this did happen, they still want to spread pieces of wisdom; specifically, “Treat us like humans. Don’t just brush us off. We will remember that.” It is really sad that this continues to be the experience Asian Americans go through within the K-12 school system where we are not treated as full humans. I can recall a moment when my fourth-grade teacher made us line up and tell her our middle names. At the end of this, she looked at us disappointed when she realized that my predominately Vietnamese class did not have her white middle name of Marie, and I was so ashamed of my Vietnamese name for the longest time. These microaggressions are so dehumanizing because it denies us the right to be different and implies that we are too different to be human.
Lee captures the inability to communicate so aptly. When they are at the movies with their friend, Kate, Kate is quick to denounce the use of violence, stating, “People should know it’s violent, and they get arrested.” To Kate, violent actions are black and white, but for Lee, the violence they experience is so much more nuanced than to quickly reject it as solely evil. As a result, they cannot verbalize to their friend that their parents, specifically their mother, are the same people who are hurting them. By the same token, they cannot talk to their mother that they are struggling in fear of being hurt. This existence in limbo is so isolating, and Lee portrays these moments in a way that the reader can empathize with what they are going through. The reader can feel Lee’s hesitancy in their conversation with Kate, wanting to tell her what is going on and the frustration and hurt that comes with interacting with their mother.
When I first read In Limbo, I was surprised that Lee shows the violence, and I commend them for doing so. It is not an easy task to portray parental figures as perpetrators of harm. Recent works such as Sigh, Gone, We Were Dreamers, and What My Bones Know describe the harm the narrator’s parents enact onto them. However, it is so much more visceral seeing this violence than reading it. I felt my eyes tear up as their mother hit them over and over again and then later reading Lee’s message to Quinn that “she did it again.” There is something so powerful about choosing to show this painful moment instead of omitting it because the only way to disrupt this harm is to bring awareness to it. Saying nothing leads to the assumption that everything is okay, when in actuality, it is not.
What makes In Limbo such a must read is the relatability of Lee’s personal story. Most of us have been through high school and can relate to the struggles Lee presents. When Lee receives a disappointing grade on their science test, they are in tears because it is so disheartening to flip over the test and see a grade lower than what they were expecting. We have all been in Lee’s shoes and felt something similar. Lee’s ability to evoke such emotion from such a common experience in addition to bringing awareness to issues like everyday casual racism in our school system and familial strife attest to how powerful and necessary their work is because the reader can feel what they feel. It hurts to feel the moments when Lee gets that disappointing grade. It hurts when their mother is hurting them. It hurts when their peers and teachers make racist remarks. And it is not okay for this hurt to continue to be perpetuated. Returning to what Lee said in their Instagram reel, “treat us like humans,” because being treated as human should be the standard, not the bare minimum.
RSVP here for our In Limbo book club on Saturday, September 28 at 5:00 p.m. PST on Zoom.
Justine Trinh is an English literature Ph.D. student at Washington State University. She graduated from the University of California, Irvine with B.A.s in Asian American studies and classical civilizations and a B.S. in mathematics. She then went on to earn her M.A. in Asian American studies, making her the first student to graduate from UCI Asian American Studies’ 4+1 B.A./M.A. program. Her research interests include Asian American literature, critical refugee studies, family and trauma, and forced departure and disownment.