Composite of portraits from the American Superhero Project. From left to right Vishavjit Singh; Maly Oudommahavanh; Rafi and Ali Samizay: • Photos by Nate Gowdy
Tanya Rachinee is captured on camera dressed like Captain America, in a shimmering red, white and electric blue outfit. The framed photo of her, face confidently gazing upward, holding a small Captain America shield in both hands, is on the wall as part of the American Superhero Project at UW Tower’s mezzanine. But Rachinee hesitated to call herself a real-life superhero.
A Thai cuisine chef and fashion designer who immigrated to the United States from Thailand at age 19, Rachinee has experienced xenophobia. A transgender woman who transitioned in 2000, Rachinee’s father was at first opposed to her transition.
“I don’t think that I am a superhero. I think I’m just an individual, normal person that lives my life, just wants to be happy,” said Rachinee at the opening reception of the American Superhero Project exhibit. “A lot of people tell me, ‘How can you endure all this hatred, all this negativity that’s put on you? If it was me, I would give up my life.’ I’m like well, I can’t help it, it’s just me. I can’t change my skin, I can’t change my race – I just have to live as happy as I can.”
Perhaps this, she reflects, is what makes her somewhat of a superhero after all.
Rachinee is among dozens of people from all walks of life photographed in Captain America attire by Seattle photographer Nate Gowdy in his studio at the former United States Immigrant Station and Assay Office in the Chinatown International District. The portraits include public figures like Congresswoman Pramila Jayapal, and Seattle drag performer and activist Aleksa Manila, but also everyday people; 18-year-old student Giselle Lopez who’s working two jobs, deaf speech pathologist Gay Lloyd Pinder, Jeremy Best, a high school music teacher in a wheelchair.
Interview narratives accompanying the photos show the breadth of diversity in the United States and the superpowers of everyday Americans.
Photos from the project are on display at the UW Tower and have so far been featured in BuzzFeed and PBS News Hour.
Tanya Rachinee, 37 — Thai cuisine chef, fashion designer, gamer: “I would never have thought I’d be here in this country. Moving from Thailand when I was 19 totally changed my perspective of everything. I had to adapt to a new country and to everything that I’d never seen before. I did kind of know what America was about from the movies, but life and movies are different. You have certain expectations and you come here and it’s different from them —language especially is the hardest part. It’s pretty tough, but eventually you adapt, you learn. “Another life changing moment was when I transitioned — the day before the Seattle Pride Parade in 2000. Me and my dad had some argument … he said that he’s ashamed of me being, you know, a sissy. And that’s when I told him that I … ‘I can’t pretend to be someone who I am not to please everybody else; it’s nice time for me to be happy for myself.’ That’s when I decided to transition. I thought my dad was gonna kick me out and throw me on the street. I’m actually pretty lucky to have understanding parents.” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Pramila Jayapal, 53 — U.S. Representative for Washington’s 7th Congressional District: “Defining moments for me have been coming to the United States when I was 16 years old, by myself, as an immigrant, with really nobody around me, and really feeling what that meant — to be in a whole new country with no family; having my child, who was born 1 pound, 14 ounces, at 26.5 weeks and really by all accounts should not be here but they are a beautiful 22-year-old now — that taught me so much about what courage means; starting my organization after 9/11 and fighting against bullying, against hate, for immigrants, and for justice in the world, and turning it into the largest immigrant advocacy organization in the state and one of the largest in the country. And now, getting to be an immigrant in Congress, one of only 14 of 535 members of Congress who is actually an immigrant — the first Indian-American woman.” (Excerpt from her interview for the American Superhero Project) • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Rafi, 72, and Ali Samizay, 11 — Grandfather and grandson, born on July 4th: Ali: “I‘m part Afghan and part African American, and I want to be like everybody else — I want to be accepted. When I was really little, I was so used to being constantly loved by family. But when I got into fifth grade, I’m like, ‘What is happening?’ Kids are constantly teasing me. I sometimes sit in my room on my bed and cry about it. I’m not ashamed to admit it — crying is a normal thing. Other times I wonder about why I’m not accepted.” *** Rafi: “Ali tells me, ‘Papa, you’re old school,’ because I keep a certain distance from technology.” Ali: “I understand about social media and privacy. But when you can’t use a remote, that’s different….” Rafi: “I’m very conscious of my privacy. In Afghanistan I was followed and imprisoned for two weeks. Other people never came back, including friends. I was walking to lunch when the car stopped and armed men took me. They had ransacked the house and found boxes of my photographic slides, which they assumed must be politically motivated. So I always have this fear of being wrongly accused.” (Excerpt from their interview for the American Superhero Project) • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Vishavjit Singh, 48 — Cartoonist, speaker, performance artist: “America to me is a collage of incredibly diverse stories with twists and plots spanning the globe. There is darkness, there is light, there is tragedy, there is redemption, there is intransigence, there is innovation, there is hate, and there is love. To me, our greatest strength and vulnerability is this amazing collection of tales. To create a space for each one of our stories to be told and heard is our greatest pursuit.” (Excerpt from his interview for the American Superhero Project) • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Maly Oudommahavanh, 37 — Special ed teacher’s aide, unfluencer, taste destroyer: “I am Asian American, but even in the Asian American diaspora, there is such a huge diversity. My family’s from Laos and were refugees. I was born and lived five years in a refugee camp. The Laotian-American refugee experience is quite similar to that of Cambodian Americans and Vietnamese Americans. When you look at their stories and the traumatic things that happened to bring them to our country, there’s a lot of similarity with superheroes who, much of the time, are born out of really adverse circumstances…. “What does it mean to be American? Honestly, it means a lot of privilege. Even as my identity is ‘hyphenate-American,’ I still realize that that ‘American’ at the end is super powerful. My passport alone means I can travel to a lot of places. I might still get treated differently because of my status as a woman or as a person of Asian descent, but we as Americans still wield a lot of power and we need to do good with it.” (Excerpt from her interview with the American Superhero Project) • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Briq House, 34 — Goddess, erotic artist, sexual healer, producer, spiritual teacher, professional cuddler: “I am not Captain America and I don’t know what it means to be American. I identify as African American, but the American is there not by choice, so I have mixed feelings around it I guess. Being African American means something very different than what other people feel like being an American means. There’s a lot of blood around those words and a lot of pain, of course; a lot of beauty in victory and triumph as well. So, as an American, I feel like a queen outside of her kingdom. “We’re never going to fly the American flag. We don’t cross our hearts and stand for the The Pledge of Allegiance or any of that. The American dream is a lie — it’s not accessible to us. We don’t celebrate the Fourth of July; we weren’t even free then. We celebrate Juneteenth. I’m proud of my people’s resilience, my people’s genius. We are great innovators and inventors and we create so many great things. We’ve literally been able to make something out of nothing.” (Excerpt from her interview for the American Superhero Project) • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Roman Leal, 32 — Working creative, Renaissance man: “The white kids didn’t like me because I was Mexican. And the Mexican kids didn’t like me because I wasn’t Mexican enough. To them I was the worst kind of Mexican — one who didn’t know how to speak Spanish. The reason I didn’t speak Spanish was because my father knew how hard it was being an immigrant from Mexico with an accent whose first language was Spanish, so he tried to protect us by removing any kind of Mexican culture or heritage from our upbringing. It wasn’t until my teenage years, when I’d already moved out of the house, that I overheard my father listening to Spanish cumbias. I had never ever heard any kind of ethnic music being played in the house — it was always rock and rock. He himself had even whitewashed who he was, all in order to give us a better life in America. “American superheroes — like Superman and Captain America — have historically been kind of the boy in blue, schoolboy kind of image, which is great in its own right. But I also feel, at the same time, the ‘traditional’ American superhero isn’t a real superhero, if that makes sense. It just feels like a figment of someone’s imagination on how everyone should act. And then there’s never any real vulnerability or sincerity to the American superhero. It feels just … ‘Bullets can bounce off me, I’m faster than this, that, or the other,’ you know?” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Giselle Lopez, 18 — Marketing student working two jobs, future filmmaker: “I graduated from high school a year early with a perfect GPA, and Mom dropped me off at college on Sept. 21st, 2018. One week later she got deported; I haven’t seen her since. We were completely in shock because my parents have done everything by the book to file the proper paperwork, going to lawyers since before I was born and spending lots of money. Alone, Dad spiraled into alcohol addiction, and I was almost kicked out of school when I went to go help him move to be with her in Mexico. “I like to go to Mexican restaurants because it’s the closest I can get to reminding me of my mom and her cooking. It’s the only thing that kind of keeps me sane. I literally have $2 in my bank account and I’m working two jobs to try and survive with no one. Captain America was my favorite superhero when I was little. It’s kind of ironic because he’s super patriotic and … yeah, I can’t really relate to him right now.” (Excerpt from her interview for the American Superhero Project) • Photo by Nate Gowdy
The American Superhero Project was inspired by New York cartoonist and activist Vishavjit Singh who grabbed headlines for dressing as Captain America in a turban and beard. Singh serves as creative director for the project, along with photographer Gowdy, Gregory L. Evans and Christie Skoorsmith.
The September 11 attacks changed everything for Singh, who was working as a software engineer near New York City at the time. A Sikh man who wears a turban, Singh found himself a public target of bigotry and hate. Channeling his frustrations into cartooning, Singh drew a vision he had of a Captain America in a turban and beard fighting intolerance and hate. The drawing was well-received and sparked conversations when he exhibited his work at New York Comic Con in 2011.
Photographer Fiona Aboud urged Singh to bring the drawing to life and dress as Captain America himself. His reaction was an emphatic no. It brought to mind being bullied about being skinny as a kid, and, after 9/11, being called names and told to “go back where he came from.”
But 10 months later, a white supremacist opened fire in a Sikh place of worship in Wisconsin, killing six people. “It hit me a little hard,” Singh told the International Examiner. “Like many other people who don turbans and beard, this could happen to me.”
On a sunny day in 2013, he found himself in New York City dressed as Captain America, with Aboud taking photos. He was nervous, but people received him positively, and the day was a good experience. Singh thought, “Maybe I’m onto something, maybe this is a way to sort of push people’s perceptions about what it means to be an American.”
Singh crossed paths with Gowdy at the Republican National Convention in 2016 when Trump was nominated as the GOP presidential candidate. Singh was there to engage in conversation with people, and Gowdy was documenting the presidential race. There was little time to connect, but Singh made an impression.
“When you see a guy dressed as Captain America with turban and beard and holding a sign that reads, ‘Let’s kick some intolerant ass with Compassion,’ that portrayal really makes an imprint on your brain,” Gowdy said in an email. “It stuck with me.”
Gowdy, who has covered the 2016 and 2020 presidential campaigns as a photojournalist, started his career in Seattle as a staff photographer for Seattle Gay News and has worked as the official Seattle Pride photographer since 2011.
Singh posed for a portrait for Gowdy in his studio when he visited Seattle in May 2018 for the opening reception of Wing Luke Museum’s exhibition about his work called “Wham! Bam! Power! Cartoons, Turbans & Confronting Hate.”
The American Superhero Project was born in October 2018, when Gowdy came to a presentation Singh gave on behalf of Town Hall Seattle.
Also in the audience was Christie Skoorsmith, the mother of two eight-year-old twin transgender boys. Skoorsmith saw parallels between Singh’s work and the experiences of her sons, who have been expressing themselves through cartoons for the past three years as boys or male animals on adventures. Skoorsmith hoped her sons could meet Singh and find a mentor in him.
Singh’s story of people suddenly treating him with suspicion and calling him a terrorist after 9/11 struck a chord with Skoorsmith. Skoorsmith’s sons are perceived as boys to most people, who are happy to talk with and spend time with them. But sometimes when people find out they are transgender, “They start looking at them like they’re some kind of a freak,” Skoorsmith said.
“Even though their stories are so vastly different, that experience of being totally normal one minute and then totally seen as the other and possibly dangerous and possibly untouchable the next minute is an experience that my sons face multiple times in their life,” she said.
M and L, both 8 Transgender twin brothers M: “I want to be a hot dog seller and I don’t want to have a house. I want to have a minivan as a house.” L: “I want to sell hot dogs, too. I want to travel around the world selling hot dogs.” *** L: “I love having a twin as a brother and I like being transgender because it makes me feel special.” M: “We feel special. And we don’t know a lot of kids that are transgender.” L: “It was kind of hard at the beginning of the year at school because everybody didn’t know anything about being transgender. So at the beginning of the year they kind of bullied me and my brother. And when we told everybody that we want to be called boys and that we preferred the pronoun ‘he’, people told us that that wasn’t possible and you couldn’t do that. And that didn’t really make us feel very good. And then we told our teacher and she gave us a whole lesson on transgender and gender. Um, and now nobody bullies us. They just say the pronoun ‘he’ to us and stuff.” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
During the Q&A, Skoorsmith asked Singh if he had thought about doing a photo shoot where people from all walks of life could dress as Captain America and share their stories. Singh was interested.
As they stood in line to get programs signed by Singh, Gowdy introduced himself to Skoorsmith and suggested they do the project in Seattle.
“The best ideas are the ones where you’re like, ‘Oh, why didn’t I think of that,’ or ‘Why hasn’t anyone done this before?’” Gowdy said.
Over the next four months, Gowdy and Skoorsmith strategized to put the project together, enlisting the help of Gowdy’s studio mate Gregory L. Evans, a photographer and production coordinator for commercials.
Three weeks before Singh was due to arrive back in Seattle, they scrambled to put together a photo shoot. Gowdy immersed himself in all of Singh’s work and interviews to craft a call for participants on social media. Realizing he needed to provide props, Gowdy maxed out his credit cards to buy Captain America outfits and props. “It was kind of like, ‘Oh my gosh, this is really happening. I really just did that. What am I doing with my life?’” Gowdy said.
The team was hoping for as many as 15 people to show up for the first shoot, but more than 40 did.
It became a production, with a wardrobe station, makeup, video and audio recordings. People posed for a photo shoot Gowdy, and then met Singh, who conducted interviews.
Skoorsmith was expecting participants to leave soon after having their picture taken, but many of them started talking amongst themselves. “People were really starting to experience this amazing feeling of community,” she said. “Some of them would stay for 4 hours.”
In subsequent shoots, the team tried to re-create this feeling of affirmation, helping people feel heard.
“It was the coolest day,” Gowdy said. “I’ve been the only photographer in the room with President Obama; I’ve had the cover of TIME Magazine; my camera’s gotten me into some really neat situations, but I’ve never been prouder or felt better about what I’m doing.”
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Photographer and project lead Nate Gowdy reviews portraits with the Vasilez family at his studio at Inscape Arts in Seattle's Chinatown-International District on May 19th. The American Superhero project's creative producer Gregory L. Evans pictured at left. • Photo by Jonathan I. Shields
Project producer Christie Skoorsmith and Tito Dith pose for social media pictures in the lobby of Inscape Arts in Seattle's Chinatown-International District on May 18th, 2019 • Photo by Jonathan I. Shields
Giselle Lopez poses for social media pictures with the project's creative director Vishavjit Singh in the lobby of Inscape Arts in Seattle's Chinatown-International District on May 18th, 2019 • Photo by Jonathan I. Shields
The project developed into something none of them anticipated. “We just started capturing things and then realizing that our role as a team needed to simply be a platform for these voices,” Evans said.
The stories are at the heart of the American Superhero Project, according to Gowdy. The photos might pull people in, but the hope is that people “delve into the stories, and that’s what this project is really about — what’s under the surface,” Gowdy said. “Our stories help connect us.”
While interviewing participants, Singh asked them about their superpowers and vulnerabilities, the moments that define their story, and what it means to be American. The interviews ended with Singh wanting to know even more about their stories.
Singh sees the American Superhero project as an extension of his own performance art as Captain America, but different at the same time. “I’m sure when people see me dressed up, a lot of times people are wondering, why is this guy dressed up as Captain America?” he said. “I’m sure they have labels for me, sometimes positive, sometimes negative — and I think that probably happens with a lot of the people who have been participating in this project.”
Singh wants people to come away from the project intrigued, but also, he hopes, somewhat confused and uncertain. “Hopefully that confusion will lead to exploration.”
Singh began his Captain America project in the aftermath of 9/11, propelled by “racism, prejudice, bias, stereotypes in society.” In some ways, he said, the American Superhero Project shares these preoccupations, 15 years later.
“Even if this president had not come to power, I probably would still be doing this,” said Singh, who has been told to “go back home” since even before 9/11.
“To me, 2016 and beyond is just turning the volume up a little bit,” Singh said. “People are more comfortable now vocalizing and verbalizing their prejudices and racism.” But Singh believes the election of Donald Trump as president inspired more empathy in the last few years, too. “So many more people are feeling the heat, and when you feel the heat you empathize more with someone else who might feel the same way.”
Singh thinks the project has succeeded in making people feel connected to the stories of the participants. “I think that personal connection is what’s critical,” he said.
Evans hopes the project will inspire “people who didn’t want to hear stories about diversity craving to hear more stories about people that they didn’t know were just like them.”
Tito Dith, 49 — Physical therapist, small business owner, family man: “I left Cambodia at age five. I remember hearing helicopter noises and the smell of diesel engines and being separated from my dad who was covering the story of the civil war in Cambodia. And I remember coming to America, not knowing the language, here with my mom and my three siblings, and it was a struggle. But my mom kept us all together and she always told us to keep thinking about my dad … that some day he would join us. I remember her telling us that on every birthday — ‘You know, I wish that your dad was here with us.’ And then that moment when we heard the news my dad had made it across the border into Thailand. Receiving that phone call, we were just so elated — jumping, screaming, and then being reunited at the airport, that was an amazing part of my life. “I believe my dad had superpowers in the will to survive — that drive. What was behind that was the fact that he wanted to tell the world about the genocide in Cambodia, and he needed to survive in order to tell that story.” Editor’s note: Tito’s father Dith Pran played a significant role in bringing the crimes of Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge regime to the world’s attention as a photographer for The New York Times, enduring four years as a slave laborer. He was the subject of the 1984 Academy Award-winning movie “The Killing Fields.” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Mary Yu, 62 Washington State Supreme Court Justice: “To be an American means to fully embrace who I am. I’m the daughter of immigrants. At 7 years old, my father left China and grew up on a cargo ship. One day it docked in New York and — along with all the others, primarily Irish immigrants — he just left the ship and never returned. After making his way to Chicago, he fell in love with and married my mother, who’d come from Mexico as a farm worker. She returned to Mexico and entered the United States legally while my father declared himself a refugee, and eventually they were issued the proper documentation. “After Washington state’s governor decided he wanted to appoint me, we walked over to the Supreme Court in The Temple of Justice. It was a bright, sunny day, and in that moment my parents, who’re now deceased, came to mind: I felt a moment of complete gratitude for their unbelievable sacrifice. Factory workers on Chicago’s south side, they dared to dream about giving their daughter the opportunity to be who or whatever she might be. Today I’ve been on the Washington State Supreme Court for five years, and I just happen to be the first Asian, the first Latina, and the first lesbian to serve on the bench. ”It really matters that a brown kid might look at me and say, ‘I could do that.’ I would like every kid in the state of Washington, no matter where you’re from, no matter who you are, no matter your identity, to earnestly believe that they could be me — that if I can do this, you can do this. The idea of inviting people to be visible and to be full participants in our systems of justice, to me, is what it’s all about. We make better decisions when we reflect the communities we serve.” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Aleksa Manila, 44 — Social worker, social activist, drag queen: “My journey coming to America began when I joined my family here in Seattle from the Philippines in 1995. Ten years in, I became a U.S. citizen. At the time, the idea of being gay was being challenged and there was that talk and risk of being deported because of it, so I wanted to avoid that. I also held the title of Ms. Gay Seattle, so I wanted to become a U.S. citizen so I could do my part in motivating others to vote. “Drag is my superpower because it allows people to be inspired, to be encouraged, to dig deep, and to see the beauty that exists inside and out. I’m thankful to all my drag queen and drag king ancestors — particularly African American, Latinx, Puerto Rican, and Asian — who fought hard at Stonewall in New York City 50 years ago so that I could express myself in this powerful way. “To be American is to be able to live freely, have autonomy over our bodies, and to be proud of whoever we are, wherever we come from, whatever belief systems and family values we adhere to, as long as they come with love, respect of ourselves, of our individuality, and of others. And not just our family members, but truly any person we see, whether that means a brown person like me or an immigrant like me. We can all coexist with love, with pride, and knowing that — at the end of the day when we close our eyes — we’re all the same America.” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Erica Hudson-Gomez, 35 — Engineer, gardener, social justice bard: “I studied math, software, and English lit, and I’ve spent the last 15 years building software. But what I’ve really spent my life on is broadening the definition of who gets to be a software engineer, trying to bring marginalized people into the industry. Maybe it’s because I never felt that I neatly belonged to any category, race, gender, or career. My authenticity in these things has always been called into question. “One of the things that has frustrated me incredibly throughout my life is that people say, ‘Oh, okay, well you’re Puerto Rican and you’re Japanese, therefore you must be half- this way and half- that way.’ Or, ‘You’re nerdy and you don’t have an accent, so you’re basically white.’ It’s like, ‘No, 1+1 doesn’t equal 2; 1+1 equals something entirely different and new, and being many different things, that is 100-percent American.” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
The Vasilez Family: Jennifer, 34; Josh, 36; Maya, 3 — Syayaye (Lushootseed for “family”) Jennifer: “I’ve been blessed to be a teacher and now I’m the principal of a tribal school, where we’re incorporating native knowledge and practices into all subject areas — because our ancestors were social scientists and everything we have today. Both opportunities have helped me reconnect with my community, and I’m learning as much as possible so I can pass those teachings on to my daughter.” (Excerpt from her interview for the American Superhero Project) • Photo by Nate Gowdy
The McDonalds: Pari, 14; Greg, 47; Cymran, 11; Maya, 18, Indira, 47, Ana, 16 — Multicultural family: Greg: “I grew up in Iowa in an Irish Catholic family and don’t feel very unique on my own. In my relationship with Indira over the past 20+ years — as we’ve raised a multicultural family — I’ve grown a lot. And so I would say my family is what makes me uniquely American.” Indira: “I was born in Fiji and my parents were teaching missionaries, so they were with the Methodist Church. My mom taught English, my dad taught chemistry. My mom is black, my dad is white. They got married one year after the Loving decision, so it was barely legal to get married at that point in time. When I was two they adopted me and I grew up in Chicago, and pretty much our family were other interracial familes who either weren’t accepted by their families or needed that support of being with other families like them. So we just kind of made family.” Maya: “I really like math and science. I am a pilot — I fly airplanes. My mom always tells us that we’re strong enough to do whatever we set our minds to, so I’ve chosen gymnastics and flying. Ana: “I am the only person in my family who has blue eyes, blonde hair. All the time I get asked, ‘Are you adopted?’ Or, ‘Are you and Maya from your dad’s first marriage?’ Pari: “I like to swim. And I like country music. I want to be a pediatric surgeon. I love little kids and I love helping them. I’m in eight grade, so I’ll join kindergarten lunch where I read with them and just hang out with them.” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Nima Forghani, 36 — Systems engineer, filmmaker, export of Iran: “I remember going to the bomb bunkers in kindergarten. During nightly raids, dogfighting fighter jets bombed everything they saw. Schools and hospitals would get leveled. There was no Geneva Convention. Iran lost about 1 million people in the Iran-Iraq War, and another 6 million were disabled. I once witnessed a public execution when my mother and I were walking through a bazaar shopping. I grew up in constant fear of war and my own government. “A doctor and intellectual, my dad was harassed by the Islamist regime. Our own country didn’t want us. One thing he always said, and I will never forget these words: ‘No matter what, the last place that will fall will be America, so we want to be there.’ In 1999 we were granted political asylum in Canada and then, finally, we got our American green card from the U.S. embassy in Canada. A process that took 20 years as Iranian nationals took us six months as Canadians. “Despite all the hate that’s happening with the political nature and the division that’s currently here, I want us to take ownership of that vision of what it is to be American. We have a great opportunity — with the help of all the immigrants and people who came here for a reason — to put people on our shoulders and take them further. Being a patriot isn’t necessarily flying a flag or wearing red, white, and blue, but actually holding the hand of somebody who’s in need. There are great Americans who are everyday heroes and we don’t hear about them.” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Jin-Ah Kim, 29 — Former city council candidate, current wrangler at a tech company “I was a photojournalist, or I thought I was going to be. I tried to live by that whole, you know, Joseph Pulitzer quote: ‘We will illuminate dark places and, with a deep sense of responsibility, interpret these troubled times.’ And then opioid addiction took me away from that. I unintentionally got into politics through Congresswoman Pramila Jayapal. I was the first female in America to ever run for office publicly open in recovery from an opioid addiction. There are few places in the world where you can go from homeless to running for office in less than three years. That’s remarkable. And that’s what I think is very American.” “During my campaign, my political consultants told me to change my name. Their top three choices were Emily, Victoria, or Olivia. That was interesting because my name is Jin-Ah — it literally means ‘true self’ in ancient Korean. Well, it’s time to live up to it; 29 years is enough. I’m polyamorous. My philosophy is that to expect one person to fulfill all of my spiritual, physical, and emotional needs is toxic. This does not mean I’m running from commitment — quite the opposite. It means multiple committed relationships and, hah, Google calendars. Love is fluid and should evolve organically. “I’m also genderfluid. I’m still very binary presenting so I’m still comfortable with she/her pronouns, but this may change. Every year during Pride month, I used to think to myself, ‘Will this be the year I come out?’ And I’ve always struggled; no more. When I tried to sign up for benefits at work and I couldn’t identify as non-binary, I realized that this is the kind of thing that makes it important to come out. Visibility is super important!” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Svetlana Titova, 37 — Software tester at a science nonprofit
“My family moved to America when I was 13 from Siberia, Russia. Looking at me, you can’t tell, and people assume that if you’re white you’re from here, and so haven’t had the same experiences a lot of immigrants of color do. There are Americans who are born here who aren’t white and — whether they’re born here or not — for the rest of their life people are just going to assume they’re from someplace else. When I meet people, they’re like, ‘Oh, you’re Russian,’ when they notice my accent or how I mispronounce sayings and things. And then I visit Russia and I feel I am not that Russian. It’s kind of funny that I’m considered a bit too direct here, but going back there, I’m like definitely an American: a soft person who loves customer service and things packaged and clean.
“I know my parents came here to have a better life and I know for a fact my life is so much better than theirs was in Siberia. I have a child and so I really want him to have a better life than me. I think being not from here, you appreciate it so much more because, like, being a single mom I’m able to support myself, I have a car, I’m able to take my son to the zoo, I can afford not just food but vacations and, I don’t know … I’ve been to Russia and I don’t know how I would’ve survived there just because of the culture, the attitudes, the sexism — it’s all so different and just … I wouldn’t have this life and I really, really appreciate it.” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
Aris Tewelde-Hunt, going on 1 — All-American baby
Nahid Tewelde, Aris’ mother, 29: “I’m Eritrean and my family immigrated here with me when I was a baby — first to Dallas and then Seattle. And so, for some reason, seeing the flag and the red, white, and blue growing up was really triggering for me — something that I’ve been trying to break down and understand. The only time I felt slightly comfortable saying that I was American was when Obama was president. And I want my son to understand his identity and not to have such a huge conflict. I want him to be able to be proud to say that he’s American because we have so many different types of Americans and I don’t want him to feel like he has to reject part of his upbringing. I want Aris to be able to look at these photos and in the future say, ‘You know, I’m proud to have been a part of this project.’” • Photo by Nate Gowdy
When Gowdy approached Congresswoman Jayapal at an event to ask if she would participate in the project, she agreed instantly. The project also features former Houston mayor Annise Parker, one of the first openly gay mayors of a major U.S. city. Gowdy hopes to photograph presidential candidate Pete Buttigieg, and the four congresswomen targeted in racist tweets by Trump, known as ‘The Squad’: Reps. Ilhan Omar of Minnesota, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York, Rashida Tlaib of Michigan and Ayanna Pressley of Massachusetts.
At the same time, the goal of the project is that “for every person whose name you may know, we highlight the faces and words of 10-20 everyday individuals who don’t make the headlines,” Gowdy said.
“These people are not selected because they are unique and different — they’re not necessarily more special than you as the observer,” said Singh. “You should be able to see you in those stories.”
Another goal is to take the project beyond Seattle. It was a good place to start the project, said Singh, as “a great sort of microcosm of America,” but the team wants to bring the project to as many states as possible, said Evans — the South, the Midwest, the Eastern U.S. and perhaps the southern border, collecting and sharing people’s stories. This might include more stories from conservatives, who are part of the American story but not well-represented by the project in Seattle, Skoorsmith said.
The future of the project is wide open — members of the creative team said it could expand into a podcast, a book, a documentary. The Smithsonian reached out to Gowdy with interest in the project.
The work is far from done — five percent done, Evans estimates. “What we’ve produced so far, not to diminish the work, but it’s essentially a proof of concept,” Evans said.
Wherever the project goes next, it will highlight the stories of heroes both ordinary and not-so-ordinary.
Tito Dith, a physical therapist and small business owner, thought of his father, Cambodian journalist Dith Pran, as he was interviewed for the project. “He has always been a hero of mine,” Dith said. Pran was a photographer for The New York Times who documented the crimes of Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge regime and endured four years of starvation and torture. Pran coined the term “killing fields” and was the subject of a 1984 film of the same name. “I was just amazed at what he had gone through and accomplished, and for him to then tell the world his story,” Dith said.
Pran, who died in 2008, never got the chance to be photographed and tell his story for the project. But his heroism is captured in the project through the interview with his son, who is pictured gazing off camera as though in the distance, a hefty Captain America shield on his arm.
“I think it’s a wonderful thing to show to America and to the rest of the world that Americans are all diverse people,” said Dith of the project. “We all have unique life experiences and we all bring certain talents to this country and we all help America be what it is.”
The American Superhero Project is on display at UW Tower mezzanine, 4333 Brooklyn Ave NE, Seattle, until October 3. It will also be displayed at Vermillion Art Gallery & Bar from September 12 through October 5, with an opening reception on September 12 from 6 to 9 p.m. during Capitol Hill Art Walk. It will be displayed at Retail Therapy October 6 through December 1, with an opening reception on October 10 from 5 to 8 p.m. during Capitol Hill Art Walk.
