Issue #1: A Place of Our Own
Introduction by the founder
By Meiyang Liu Kadaba, Psy.D.
Me with my grandparents in Changchun, 2016
My journey with Coloring Psychoanalysis started with my grandfather - my mother’s father, my 姥爷 (lao3 ye2 in Mandarin Chinese). A retired high school Chinese teacher, he had a lifelong love and respect for words. He and my maternal grandmother, my 姥姥 (lao3 lao3), raised me in Northeastern China on and off through the age of 12, while my parents pursued opportunities abroad. As a toddling child, some of my earliest memories were of my grandfather’s prized bookshelves, packed tight with books that he lovingly hand-covered, labeled, and organized. It was calming and inviting, just like him.
As I grew, my grandfather shared with me his appreciation of poetry and literature. Over many patient conversations, he helped me understand their connections to philosophy, music, art, and history. It was only later, when I immigrated to the US to rejoin my mother, that I recognized something else he was showing me - through words, we can be connected across impossible barriers like time and space, with past and future generations, and people both intimately familiar and seemingly unlike us. It was a love that carried me across oceans that he knew I would have to cross, into unknowns where he knew he wouldn’t be able to accompany me.
My grandfather as I remember him as a child; photo probably taken in the early 80’s
Through my grandfather, I also learned that words are a revolution. He gave me my name, 眉扬 (mei2 yang2). It literally translates into “raising one’s eyebrows” - an absurd gesture perhaps, but a phrase laden with meaning if you’re a speaker of Mandarin. Its most common association is with an idiom, 扬眉吐气 (yang2 mei2 tu3 qi4), which roughly translates to the feeling of joy and relief from throwing off shackles of the past. My grandfather also meant for it to invoke a line of poetry written by a Chinese college student in 1976 to honor the death of Premier Zhou Enlai and protest the brutality of the Cultural Revolution. Always a gentle, prudent man, there was nevertheless such power and aspiration inside my grandfather, which he imbued into my life from its start.
Poetry and metaphor have long been forms of resistance in China, particularly during periods of intense suppression. One ancient poet is so celebrated for his refusal to acquiesce to political pressure that, to this day, we still race dragon boats and eat rice dumplings to honor his memory. Chinese netizens today often use word and imagery play, endlessly possible in a language of pictures and homonyms, to circumvent the Great Fire Wall. Words - and the creative fire behind them, a fire that burns minds too small to hold it - can be life itself. Even if just a whisper, they’re unkillable.
This love for life and words is what moved me toward psychoanalysis. I found such beauty in the pictures and sensations that psychoanalytic writing conjured in me. For the first time since immigrating, I felt like I was in waters that could hold me again, soothed and excited at the same time. These writings helped me to understand and be curious, see and want to see more. Putting these words into therapeutic practice, I can be simultaneously within myself and connected with another. In theories that traced their lineages to an Austrian Jewish refugee, I heard the promise of freedom. It was the same freedom I know my family meant to pass on to me, before the traumas of a World War, foreign occupation, famine, and the Cultural Revolution robbed them of their words. When rediscovered and spoken, words have the power to revive.
But I found myself also missing in psychoanalysis. My grandfather was missing. My clients were missing. Our words and languages were literally missing. As a graduate student, I had so many questions no one could answer that they became pages and pages of notes and bibliographies. Too overwhelming to tackle on my own, I needed others. But the more I tried to find community in traditional psychoanalysis, the more I felt molded into a sacrifice at the altar of white, western, colonial psychoanalytic dogma. My time and energies were only used up by the people and structures who wielded its power. One of my first forays into finding community was joining a committee of mostly early career clinicians of color, and our main task was planning a holiday gathering for a local psychoanalytic organization. At the event, attendants clustered largely along age and racial lines; our efforts went largely unacknowledged while an older, white analyst was honored for offering her luxurious home. I left feeling like a servant. On another occasion, I attended a lecture on Chinese poetry offered by a white analyst who proclaimed herself an “expert.” She never once acknowledged her lack of personal and historical ties to the subject, while several of us native speakers sat uncomfortably in the audience. This time, I left feeling speechless and complicit.
If I tried to move beyond these confining experiences, the signal was that I would become nothing and have nowhere to go (as far as having a claim to psychoanalysis). I would have to accept either being subjugated or exiled. During a psychoanalytic course for BIPOC clinicians, our virtual space was invaded by a white administrator. We were then told to leave the Zoom link provided to us by the organization so that another, more “prominent” event could take place (see more in “Trio of Discussant Responses”). During an interview to a psychoanalytic training program with its white director, my question about how BIPOC candidates are supported in the face of structural racism in psychoanalysis was turned on me as my own anxiety and defensiveness about “engaging in the process.” I’ve witnessed overwhelming whiteness the closer I got to psychoanalytic leadership; even when there were BIPOC voices at the table, they were usually few and marginalized.
It was these - and many more - moments that made I stop looking in and start looking around. I began to see so many of us who had been shunned, shamed, erased, contorted, depleted, used, and tossed aside. And yet, here we still were, holding onto ourselves and our love for this work, refusing to let either go.
Then came the fevered containment of the pandemic. Like many, I mourned and organized after George Floyd’s murder, paranoidly obsessed over my decision to mask as story after story came out of Asian women being attacked - women who looked like me and my mother. I was angry, isolated, and restless.
One particularly difficult morning, I paced up to the top of Dolores Park. Looking across the seemingly peaceful landscape of San Francisco, I tried to let everything go and just envision the thing that was the complete opposite.
What if we had everything that we ever needed and wanted in this field?
Theories that allow psychoanalytic ideas and reflections of us and our ancestors to interplay - and transform - each other…
…created and debated within spaces that honor service, attunement, and full relating instead of power and conquest…
…populated by people driven to uncover deeper experiences of what it means to live and heal within BIPOC bodies, memories, and histories.
A BIPOC-centered psychoanalysis.
This vision became a seed that slowly germinated over the next two years. In this time, I became a licensed psychologist and a new mother. The world around us continued to shift in seismic and mundane ways. In the fall of 2022, my first public call to a select few BIPOC psychoanalytic listservs returned enough interest for me to push forward with creating this project in earnest. While the vision is more comprehensive, I felt that a publication was a uniquely fitting place to start. Not only is it a concept that doesn’t currently exist, it would address the very heart of what I saw as both the problem and the opportunity - that psychoanalysis is about finding language for meaning and connection, and yet its words have long been a tool to exclude and silence. Now, we can have words that invite and reflect us, words from which to build community and a movement. We can have a home that nurtures us and incubates further possibilities in all the spaces we exist in.
There is a “we” gathering like a storm cloud on the horizon.
The website for Coloring Psychoanalysis was launched in spring 2023, just in time for the groundbreaking Division 39 Spring Meeting “Our Beautiful Struggle.” Over 50 people signed up overnight; the group swelled to over 100 by the end of the weekend. To date, we are a collective of over 270 self-identified BIPOC people - and counting. As you signed up, almost half of you shared with me a bit of who you are, what brought you here, and what you’re hoping for. That’s quite a response rate for an optional question! You told me that you’re teachers, students, clinicians, and academics across the span of professional life. You come from a multitude of backgrounds and geographies (both in the US and across the globe), serving many communities, expressing a similar longing - to be seen and to learn to see through a different lens. Some are students refusing to introject Whiteness and looking for guidance. Some are teachers who want to teach from a different, more centered place. (I hope we can help you find each other!) Some are seasoned professionals who have already witnessed and provided a great deal to the field, while others are starting out by trying to walk a different path. Most mentioned feeling isolated and wanting to connect with others. What an honor it is to hear even just a little of your stories. I welcome you into this space and invite you to come on in and make this your home too. Come in with your words, creativity, lived expertise, energies, and stories. Come in as YOU.
We are bold and visionary. We refuse the binary and invite the third(s). We resist by embracing life’s libidinal energy through joy and creativity. We dare to sit at the table and make it bigger. We claim what’s rightfully ours.
This is just the beginning. A spark to light a whole new way.
“Uncaged Bird,” by Meiyang Liu Kadaba (created after the 2023 Division 39 Spring Meeting, “Our Beautiful Struggle.” Stamped ink on paper). © Meiyang Liu Kadaba 2024
Image description: bird with outstretched wings in front of cage.
GIVING THANKS
In addition to my grandparents, there are so many who tilled, fertilized, and watered the soil for Coloring Psychoanalysis to come into existence. I give my deepest gratitude to:
My dear friends and confidants Nicole Hsiang, Geetali Chitre, Judy Huang, and Stephanie Chen: You’ve provided me with advice and guidance from its very inception of this adventure, but the love and support you’ve long given me has gone so much beyond. Through late night conversations and shared meals, you helped me find grounding while I battled rounds of self-doubt, frustration, and anxiety. You sent me outpourings of emojis, exclamation points, and encouraging words when I shared milestones and victories. You’re some of the most honest, brilliant, and generous humans I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. You’re my soul family, my Jedi council, my sisterhood.
Our inaugural group of writers, artists, editors, and volunteers - You are bold, creative souls who heard the call and didn’t hesitate to jump in. You breathed life into this issue and made it real. Thank you for your faith, grace, and courage. Thank you to Geetali Chitre and Theresa Tan for co-organizing the launch celebration, and to Natalie Hung for lending your artistic eye to the design and layout of this first issue.
My graduate and postgraduate mentor, Dr. Allison Briscoe-Smith, who created the office of DEI at the Wright Institute: What you showed me and what we built together broke the mold in terms of what an unapologetic, strategic, nurturing space that centered BIPOC students looks like. So much of how I envision Coloring Psychoanalysis goes back to those experiences and our many inspiring conversations. You were also one of the first people I shared my idea with. In your effortlessly brilliant way, you inspired its name.
Nadine Tang, my clinical consultant - You wrote a paper that blew open what I thought was possible as a BIPOC grad student entering the world of psychoanalysis. It showed me the power of such writing. It was a breath of fresh air and my first north star. Even more, you have always been unfailingly generous, insightful, and constant. I'm so fortunate to have your steading voice accompanying my work.
Communities of BIPOC/Asian Americans in psychoanalysis, including the Mandarin group in 2017, Asian Americans in the Bay Area group in 2019-2021, BIPOCanalysis, and my current clinical consultation group (hi Geetali, Judy, and Marissa!) - Each of these communities has offered me energy, new knowledge, feelings of belonging and resonance, learnings in leadership, and expanded possibilities. I’m proud to build on all that has been, and continues to be, accomplished in these spaces. A particular thanks to Deb Kim for our weekly conversations several years ago.
Mentors and colleagues in the Asian American Psychological Association (AAPA), especially Division on Practice (DoP) and the Graduate Leadership Institute (GLI) - When I was floundering to find my people in psychoanalysis, you welcomed me with open arms. The natural ways I knew how to be as an Asian immigrant woman were uplifted instead of exploited. You modeled and supported me to practice leadership that was rooted in service and connection. Thank you for creating a sense of home for so many of us.
My husband, Navin - Thank you for listening to my late-night rants and half-baked ideas, for looking after our child and home while I worked all these extra hours. Thank you for supporting my wildest dreams to make something new because you know it’s what I need to do. I love you.
Finally, as much as this space is for all of us, more than anything, it’s for my son (and all of our generations to come). As we speak, my multiethnic Asian American child is clamoring through this world. I hope he never has to question whether he sees himself fully in another’s eyes.
About Meiyang
Dr. Meiyang Liu Kadaba, Psy.D., is a licensed psychologist in private practice, clinical supervisor, leadership consultant, and artist. Rooted in her bilingual, bicultural upbringing between China and the U.S., Meiyang dedicates her work to uplifting the perspectives of fellow travelers between worlds. She's profoundly grateful for the inspiration and strength offered by her BIPOC elders and peers in anti-oppressive psychoanalysis, Asian/Asian American psychology, and other liberational and decolonial pursuits. She is the founder of Coloring Psychoanalysis, an online publication/community by and for BIPOC in psychoanalysis. Additionally, Meiyang was the past Chair of the Division on Practice (DoP) in the Asian American Psychological Association (AAPA) and was recognized by the American Psychological Association's Minority Fellowship Program (MFP).
For questions and comments, contact Meiyang at coloring.psychoanalysis@gmail.com.