Dr. Stephanie Han is an author, educator, and speaker. Her online classes at drstephaniehan.com focus on empowering women through narrative — both on the page and in life. Her workshops prioritize voice, craft, and community. Her book Swimming in Hong Kong won the Paterson Fiction Prize, and was the finalist for AWP’s Grace Paley Prize, the Spokane Prize, and the Asian Books Blog Award. Her writing has been recognized by PEN, VONA, and the Los Angeles Department of Cultural Affairs, The South China Morning Post, Nimrod International Journal, and Santa Fe Writer’s Project. She was the inaugural English Literature PhD of City University of Hong Kong. She lives in Hawai’i, home of her family since 1904.
I was born in St. Louis, MO. My mother, Marie Ann (Han) Yoo, is a third-generation Korean American from Hawaii, and my father, Tai-June Yoo is from Seoul, Korea. My maternal clan has been on Oahu since 1904; I’m descended from the very first wave of Koreans immigrants to the U.S.
Yes, Han—my pen name, is my mother’s birth name! I love my mom:). I was a big baby. Mom said I was simply huge; I’m 5’1”. It’s amusing to know that at one point in my life I was considered terrifyingly big.
My dad got drafted after getting his U.S. green card and this, combined with his medical training and his research career meant that we moved around. We lived everywhere from Seoul, Korea to Memphis, Tennessee. I have two sisters: Christine was born in Buffalo, NY and Katherine was born in San Francisco, CA.
I spent the bulk of my elementary school years in Iowa, although we made trips to Hawai’i to visit the ‘ohana, and then at the age of 13, I went to boarding school: Phillips Academy Andover. This experience gave me the opportunity to study with some great English literature teachers. I made collages, had a messy room, had mad crushes, did terribly in math, took many art and music classes, and wanted to be an artist. Since I didn’t learn of or know any Asian American artists or writers, I didn’t know it was possible.
I went on to Barnard College–the last class before Columbia admitted women, and was lost and depressed. I believe much of this was down to recovering from boarding school and what can be a very narrow world within elite institutions that are competitive, white, and patriarchal. I left university after two years. By the time I returned to finish my degree at University of California Santa Barbara, I was in my late 20s, living in Los Angeles, studying acting and writing poetry. I won a grant from the Los Angeles Department of Cultural Affairs to author a poetry chapbook, L.A. (Lovers Anonymous).
After graduation, I headed to Korea. A world opened up. Much of the frustration or discontent I experienced in the continental US due to race did not exist in the same way for me in Asia. While there are always points of frustration anywhere you go, they were different and I needed to experience this difference. Life unfolded: I married, had a child, taught, wrote, published, and found myself moving back and forth between the US and Hong Kong. I studied writing and literature at San Francisco State University (MA), labored as a journalist, provided content for Netnoir, the first African American online company, won a PEN Emerging Voices Fellowship and scholarship to VONA, studied creative writing at University of Arizona, taught K-12 and university, made a home in the rural village of Mui Wo, Lantau outside of Hong Kong, witnessed the Umbrella Revolution, became the first Ph.D. in English literature awarded by City University of Hong Kong, moved back to Hawai’i, and finally published my fiction collection: Swimming in Hong Kong
The stories and the manuscript itself were rejected hundreds of times. The practice of writing is not always connected with the realities of publishing. The exact same stories that went on to win awards and prizes were the ones that were continuously rejected. My short story collection was even rejected three years after it was published! No honest writer will tell you that only great work gets published or conversely, that only poorly crafted work is rewarded.
The last several years of my life were tumultuous. I divorced, moved, and began life as a single parent. Divorce compelled a close examination of the influence of narrative on women–including myself! The stories that govern our lives are based on texts written by men: how does this affect our personal narrative? How do we obtain true empowerment in a society that has not yet acknowledged women as complete human beings? I started surfing and began taking hula; I taught secondary and university, and deeply questioned my purpose. How does one live authentically and kindly? What is the nature of belief and belonging? What is it to write and to live one’s truth to power? Given that we are 200 years until gender equity in the US, how does one function as a woman? What can I do to help other women manifest the lives they want to live?
During the early months of COVID I launched my online teaching platform to answer some of my own questions and to teach what I know, and to teach what I wish I had been taught when I was in school. This time of global upheaval has become a time of reckoning, alignment, flow, and rebirth. The deaths of so many people remind us that we must live authentically and compassionately. The personal chaos I experienced over the past several years collided with global events and compelled me to reframe time, mission, and opportunity. I now work backwards from death: I only write and teach what I believe to be the most important information that I can share with others.
Like everyone else, my time here is short. We are here to love. We are here as stewards of the planet. That’s it.
Any student will tell you that I will be honest with you and help you to improve your craft. The more stories that women write, the better we are as a society. I view writing as a practice of expression and art. It is a way to work out one’s relationship to life both physically and emotionally. It is also a way to community and ideas.
My life was formed by reading and writing. Growing up, I was unable to see what I wanted to be in books or anywhere in popular media. I came to writing to write myself into being. In a very real way, I did not see myself as existing because there was nothing to reflect who I was, what I believed, or any of the experiences that I had. The very nature of art and creativity is rebellion. I wrote because I had a desperate need to be seen and to believe that I existed. I didn’t like the words that were there for me to follow; I had to write my own.
What took me a long time to understand is that we must first see ourselves before anyone else can see us, and that writing is one way to help us do this. Our lives are stories and our greatest task is to master the practice of writing this life. (Think in metaphor!) If we understand how narrative works we can apply ideas of storytelling and writing to the greatest work of art we will ever create: our lives.
The art of writing is always linked to the art of life. When we face who we truly are, whether in fact or fiction, poetry or prose, the world opens: the truth is compelling. Learning how this process works will help you tell your story.
We create the story of our lives. Write yourself into being. Author your life.
You have nothing to lose.
Because writing is a way to discover the self.
Because once you empower yourself through narrative, you transform your life.
Because your best life is now.
Because your existence builds community and changes society.
Because the truth is compelling.
Because you are beautiful.
Because you matter.