Urikkiri
Forty-two forgotten essays. One daughter. A collaborative zine project reimagining immigrant memory through art.
Urikkiri (oo-ree-KEE-ree) means “among ourselves” or “just us” in Korean—a phrase that reflects the warmth of being welcomed, the joy of meaningful connection, and the feeling of belonging to something larger than ourselves.
I found my mother’s voice tucked away in a drawer.
Urikkiri began with forty-two essays my mother wrote for Chicago’s Korean newspapers—Korea Daily News (JoongAng Ilbo) and Korea Times (Hankook Ilbo)—between the 1980s and the turn of the millennium. Her words reached thousands of Korean immigrants across the city, but I never read them. Written in a language I couldn’t read, they remained a mystery to me for decades.
It wasn’t until I became a wife, a daughter, and a mother that I began to wonder who my mother had been when she wrote those essays. What stories had she shared with Chicago’s Korean American community that she had never shared with me? Whenever I asked about her writing, she dismissed it as old newspaper columns—not worth revisiting.
Then one day, I found the essays hidden in a drawer.
I secretly had them translated. In their pages, I met a version of my mother I had never known—thoughtful, observant, vulnerable, resilient. Between the lines were the realities of immigrant life, the challenges of building a home between cultures, and the stories that shape Korean American families across generations. For the first time, I wasn’t simply reading my mother’s words; I was discovering her.
Those essays became the foundation of Urikkiri.
Today, each essay has been translated and reimagined by contemporary Asian American artists. What began as a daughter’s search for her mother’s voice has grown into a collaborative archive of immigrant memory, Korean American stories, and intergenerational storytelling—connecting generations through art, culture, and shared experience.
I’m grateful my mother knew I was bringing her essays back to life before she passed. Through her words, I found not only a deeper understanding of her, but also a deeper understanding of myself.
If you’ve ever wished for one more conversation with a parent, wondered about the life they lived before you knew them, explored your family history, or searched for pieces of yourself in the stories of those who came before you, you’re in the right place.
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What’s Next
We’ve launched Poor Answer—but the story doesn’t stop here. The next 3 artists are locked in. Subscribe for new issues, updates, and exclusive features delivered straight to your inbox.
Upcoming Zines….
Issue 02 — My Mossy Life
Illustrated by Jessica Herrera | Available December 2026
After years in a new land and domestic life, my mom finds her voice again.
Issue 03 — Circus Performer
Illustrated by Hero See | @heropaulsee | Available March 2027
My mom compares parenting to a circus act of love, pressure, and constant anxiety.
Issue 04 — Nearsightedness
Illustrated by Victoria Goite | @victoriagoite.tattoo | @goite.art | Available June. 2027
My mom reflects on how true vision comes not from our eyes, but from the heart.
Interested in collaborating? Email me at: partnerships@urikkiri.com