Pride and Heritage: How a Chicago Chinese Museum Honors Pride Month
From left, curator Leo Wang and performer Jamie participate in a drag party hosted by the Chinese American Museum of Chicago on the last day of May.
On May 31, the night before Pride Month began, the Chinese American Museum of Chicago (CAMOC) hosted its own “Night at the Museum”: five Asian drag queens walked the red carpet between bookshelves and guests.
Jamie was one of the five performers. Wearing a hanbok, traditional Korean garments symbolizing their cultural heritage, Jamie performed their original song, My Body. Singing in this historic museum made them feel as though their ancestors were cheering them on.
“The song is about reclaiming my body. When I came out as non-binary, I felt people, especially men, would still only see me as a woman to try and win over,” Jamie said. “I think it also ties into us as Asian people. When we walk into a room, sometimes that's the only thing someone will see about us.”
May is AAPI Heritage Month, while June celebrates LGBTQ+ communities through Pride Month. Holding the drag show at the intersection of these two months was a thoughtful decision made by CAMOC’s Curator of Exhibitions Leo Wang, a gesture to explore the overlapping identities of Asian and queer communities.
Over the past two years, this kind of intersectional exploration has become a recurring theme in CAMOC’s programming. Located in the heart of Chicago’s Chinatown, the museum—long a space for preserving local Chinese immigrant memories—is redefining its role.
“What we're doing here is to have the museum reflect reality as much as possible, and to show a cultural experience that is multifaceted. It is embedded in the world as it changes,” said Caroline K. Ng, CAMOC’s executive director.
“We’re here, we’re queer”
Young artist Chun-an Huai began their presentation with a few old photos taken in 1999 by their adoptive parents in their birthplace, Anhui, China. During the one-child policy era, more than 160,000 Chinese children were adopted overseas, majorly by white families in the United States. Huai was one of them.
They grew up in a small town in Massachusetts, where there were few Asian Americans. Huai always felt like the “socially awkward kid.” To fit in and conform to white beauty standards, they plucked their eyebrows thin and long. But after coming to Chicago for college, they were embraced by a larger Asian American community, developed racial self-confidence, and began reflecting on gender identity—eventually coming out as transgender.
“Sometimes I wonder, my birth mom might have only pictured me as a girl. If she knew that I had become trans, would she accept it?” they said.
Queer identity, racial identity, transnational adoption—these complex themes intertwined during a panel hosted by CAMOC on June 21. In the layers of gender, class, and race, people continually search for their place in identity politics. Each identity is a unique color. When colors overlap and blend, they form a new one—perhaps this is the true meaning behind the rainbow flag.
Chun-an Huai shares her story of being adopted from China.
Curator Wang emphasized that Pride Month should not be limited to parties and entertainment. He aimed to center deeper, more complex queer narratives.
This year marks CAMOC’s second annual Pride Month celebration. In its latest newsletter, the museum used the headline “We’re Here, We’re Queer” to summarize this year’s programming. “Remembering their voices, breaking the ignored status quo,” the letter read.
Ng believes that, within Chinese communities, being queer is still a difficult topic to discuss openly. “When you grow up, you haven't seen this [queer] version of being Chinese or Asian. You don’t know how to do it, and how to find community, how to communicate about it with others and with your family,” she said.
Therefore, when Caroline sees visitors bringing their parents to these exhibitions, she’s deeply moved, and even more committed to continuing CAMOC’s LGBTQ+ programming.
“It's not just to throw up some rainbows, but to really make sure that we are creating a community that you feel comfortable with… and feel like we're supporting one another,” said Ng.
Riley Ren, CAMOC’s Curator of Collections and Education Lead, noted that when they launched the first Pride Month series last June, despite stereotypes of conservative Chinese parents, many offered their support during the planning period.
These conversations and artistic expressions have created new possibilities.
During the June 21 event, two other queer Chinese adoptees, Kaitherine Plier (Kai) and Ellie Rui, chose jazz music to tell their stories. In Kai’s song, their birth mother is no longer a woman who abandoned her child, but a rebellious figure who defied the one-child policy to give life.
From left, Ellie Rui and Kaitherine Plier play jazz music in the event.
CAMOC has more LGBTQ-focused events planned this summer. On June 27, the museum hosted “Passing Through the Same House: LGBTQ Animated Shorts”, and on July 12, it presented the “Queer Asian Play Reading”. In addition, CAMOC is collecting oral histories from queer Asian immigrants, preserving stories that are difficult to tell but deserve to be heard.
An extending line
CAMOC’s Pride Month programming represents a bold step toward tensions within the community, particularly the tension between preserving cultural heritages and embracing contemporary narratives. “It’s part of the experience for any immigrant community,” Ng said.
The word “museum” often brings to mind dusty rooms and incomprehensible placards. But Ng wanted to move beyond that image.
“A lot of times, our perception of museums are these glorified hoarders, and it can be boring and be difficult to digest or get excited about. But I want people to feel it's relevant, to see how it has anything to do with our current reality,” Ng said.
In 2021, artist and curator Larry Lee began CAMOC’s “Spotlight Series,” which highlights the works of young Chinese American artists. As an artist, a curator, and a lecturer at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, Lee grew up just a few houses down from the museum’s current location. He watched as a local produce shop transformed into a museum, witnessed it survive the devastating fire, and eventually returned as a curator himself.
Lee has complex feelings about CAMOC’s two-decade history. He self-ridiculed himself as a nostalgic “baby boomer,” but he constantly engages with younger artists, because he “doesn’t want to cut the connection with the next generation.”
According to Ren, the “Spotlight Series” has brought in many visitors in their 20s and 30s. Lee’s exhibitions are now scheduled through 2027. Seeing his curation invigorating the museum, Lee was heartened. His goal was “to reignite the passion within the community” and to spotlight the artistic and cultural value of Chinatown.
CAMOC calls for Chinese American queer oral histories.
The four-story building, donated by community leader Raymond B. Lee, sits on 23rd Street, slightly removed from the bustle of Wentworth Avenue. Though compact, every corner is used, even the windowsills near the stairwells. From this modest space, CAMOC strives to connect the past, present, and future of Asian immigrants.
Ng compares the museum’s timeline to an extending thread, where every moment is a dot on the line.
“What we're experiencing today didn't come out of nowhere. It's connected to what happened before. And so I think it is more like trying to put the dots together—to pull all of the things that we know from the past and kind of weave it together,” Ng said.
Her colleagues also have visions for CAMOC’s future. Wang hopes the fourth-floor reading area could be more active, allowing residents to borrow books and have conversations. Ren wants the gift shop to provide more opportunities for young Asian American artists to showcase their works. Meanwhile, Lee’s biggest wish is to have the museum moved to a bigger space: “There are just too many great works!”
CAMOC staff are constantly “scattered” in the city, visiting workshops, galleries, and exhibitions for inspiration. In the past year, the museum hosted creative events such as “Picnic in the Library” and “Zine Workshop.” Staff note key dates on the calendar, brainstorming ways to build connections with other spaces and communities.
As director, Ng sees a future filled with questions: How will the U.S.–China relations affect the Chinese immigrants? How will Asian Americans view themselves and forge bonds with other communities?
The answer, she believed, goes back to having conversation. Ng wants the museum to be a safe space for people to share their ideas freely, even the “bad ideas”. “The museum should make us more resilient, so that we are more empowered to be in unsafe spaces. I think making people feel supported in that way—to think critically and still ask questions—could maybe change their mind,” Ng said.