The Global Citizens Initiative hosts an annual Fellowship Summit to cultivate young “global citizens” to become “lifelong leaders of positive change.” In July of 2019, 28 high school students from 15 different countries gathered together for a 10-day experience in Tokyo, Japan. These students are each responsible for the design and development of a service learning project to be carried out over the course of a 10 month period. Their projects are “glocal” – addressing a global problem at a local level. In Tokyo, the students were supported by a group of Teaching Assistants, themselves all alumni of the GCI Fellowship Program. The Good Project has been in consultation with GCI since its formation, and we follow the work of its participants with interest. We recently had the opportunity to catch up with several GCI alums and ask them about their work, their thoughts about Good Work, and reflections about their experiences with GCI.
About Michi Zaya Tumur
Michi Zaya Tumur is from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Currently living in New York City, Michi is working on a dual-degree program at The New School's College of Performing Arts, pursuing a BFA in Dramatic Arts and an MA in Arts Management and Entrepreneurship. She strongly believes in the power of creative education, so her objective as a teaching artist has been to use interdisciplinary theater and arts to create thought-provoking work that connects human beings. This is especially important to Michi when it comes to telling the stories of those whose voices are not often heard. Through her work, she hopes to build understanding among communities by encouraging audiences to experience empathy and new perspectives. She also has interests in debate, public speaking, and dance.
What does it mean to do “good work” today?
Many people forget the value of self-care and the importance of intersectionality. I think “good work” today finds a balance between those things. It can be work that enriches the self in order to better serve your community and other communities. It can be work that thinks outside-the-box and reaches causes that are rarely, if ever, given attention. To me, the bottom line is that your heart is in the right place and wants to see a difference that benefits the world.
That being said, I don’t think it needs to be a massive, world-changing task. Recycling your bottles is good work. Participating in an internationally recognized initiative to protect the environment is good work. Some of the best “good work” I’ve seen has started small. Ridiculously small. The beautiful thing about that is that it makes it easy for anyone to do.
In the theatre community, we have a lot of LGBTQ+ artists working hard to gain recognition in an industry that, like many industries, is still run primarily by old white men. I once sat in a production meeting and witnessed a wonderful production manager quickly check-in that she was using the correct gender pronouns for a cis white female playwright who was not in the room but was being brought up in conversation. The tiny action could have been missed by anyone who was paying loose attention. However, seeing this consideration be put in so simply and casually was so impactful to me that it became a practice I now regularly use in conversations and in my rehearsal rooms as a director or stage manager. This small step has made the productions I’ve worked on incredibly warm, welcoming environments for all, regardless of gender identities beyond the binary being present or not.
Tell us about your understanding of the community. What are the communities of which you feel a part?
To me, communities have two major identifiers:
1. People in a shared space/interest group/relationship.
2. They support one another, in different ways and in different measures.
The community I feel a strongest connection to will always be artists. After that, it would be my family (both by blood and by choice). Artists who come from diverse and unique backgrounds are always the ones I can resonate with the most. In my first year of college, one of my design professors had said to me “the more personal you get, the more relatable your work will be”. I’ve found this true over and over again. Despite being a theatre artist, I’ve found a wonderful community among dancers, illustrators, and even culinary artists.
The art community is intersectional as well. I love working with other artists of color in the U.S., artists from international backgrounds, queer artists, Mongolian artists, teaching artists, interdisciplinary theatre artists, the list goes on- all of whom I can identify with. Everyone has a story that you will either find yourself in, or you will discover more about yourself. I’ve had the pleasure of being surprised by relating to work I’d never imagined I would. In the rehearsal process for theatre, the preliminary stages are called “table-work”, which is my favorite part of the process due to the amazing things you can learn about your collaborators. One night, a table-read rehearsal of half the play led to a conversation with a fellow actor that lasted all night discussing our experiences and values. I learned there can be similarities in growing up in an Asian household to growing up in a strict and sheltering Catholic household. I also learned there are some differences I’ll never fully understand, but can appreciate deeply.
Is there a particular role model who has helped inspire you to do “good work”, either real or fictional? What is it about this role model that has inspired you?
Mine is definitely fictional, and this may sound ridiculous, but it’s myself. Not in a conceited way, however. I don’t see my current self as my role model, but I see the version of myself that I would like to be as a role model. I imagine someone who is taking initiative, reaching all the goals I want to reach, doing the things for communities I would like to do, and I paint a picture in my mind of that person as me. Then, I try my best to become that person.
Of course, I gain a lot of inspiration from my parents, my peers, and my mentors from all parts of life, but I think everything they have instilled in me becomes combined with the imaginary me who has done everything I’d like to do. I find that as much as others can voice their belief in me or support me, I need to believe in myself as well. Being my own little cheerleader helps, because even if a part of me is terrified that I cannot accomplish something, the imaginary me already has accomplished it. So, why can’t that be the real me?
Tell us about your work. What projects are you currently involved with? How might what you are doing now relate to the work you began with GCI?
When I was a Fellow with GCI in 2016, my concern was improving creative education in Mongolia. My project eventually evolved into creating a space for performing arts for students, faculty, and staff at my K-12 school. Now, my school has a bi-annual talent show called “Hobby’s Got Talent”, in which anyone can participate and showcase their talents. The year I graduated, I got to see unforgettable performances. My physics teacher performed opera, and an impressive rock band was formed by fourth-grade students. It was wonderful to see people in my community truly express themselves and show each other their passions. I remember seeing one of my classmates tearfully prepare for her performance - it was an opportunity that she’d never had before, and I could tell it was incredibly meaningful for her to be able to sing for our whole school in our final year before graduation.
Currently, I have been doing more writing. In particular, I would like to write stories and plays about Asian teenage boys. I never see Asian teenage boys on stage or on screen, and I only know one male East Asian actor in my entire college program. Yet, I grew up around so many Asian teenage boys who all are full of life and have experienced the things that make us hurt, smile, cry, laugh, and fall in love. I think they deserve to share that with others, so I'm writing about them.
I like to think that I’ve continued to work on giving people who aren’t heard very often a chance to tell their stories and show us who they are, beyond the surface.
How do you feel your current projects are connected or not to this view of “good work”?
I grew up wanting to be an artist without any means to express myself. I had no actual theatre experience prior to college, beyond acting in fifteen minute plays in a gym that could hardly fit a comfortable audience of fifty people. I never saw characters who looked like me, or stories that truly reflected my own. I spent my childhood wanting and worrying about whether or not I’d ever get to do what I love. Luckily, I managed to get here. Now, my work is driven towards making sure other young artists, who have the same fears as myself, have a space to feel like they do have a chance. I want others to feel hope. Being able to do that for others does everything for me.
How and where do you find meaning in your work?
One of my acting professors once said, “If you feel frustrated afterwards, you held back. If you feel good afterwards, you were truthful.” This was life-changing for me. I think to find meaning in my work, I need to be truthful and I need to delve into the work without holding back. The more I can be honest, vulnerable, and effective with my work, the more I feel I’ve gained something from it while putting out all that I could have for the world. Even if my professor was referring to acting, this was an important lesson in everything I do. Keeping this in mind makes the work I do feel tenfold more impactful and gratifying. While I cannot do much to control the outcomes or impact of my work, I can find meaning in the work’s journey.
Tell us about your biggest challenges, and how you work to tackle them.
I struggle in finding balance between myself and my work. I’ve had many times where I will deny myself basic needs such as sleep or a healthy diet in the name of “working hard”. Every time this has happened, I’ve re-learned the lesson of how working “hard” non-stop only leads to debilitating yourself to the point where you cannot work at all. In my third year of college, I had a schedule I’d purposefully packed so densely that I hadn’t had time to sleep enough or spend any time on myself. Eventually, between taking on nearly 60 hours a week solely dedicated to working on projects, school, my job, and an internship, along with barely getting enough sleep or eating enough whole meals, my health could not take it anymore and I ended up in the emergency room with severe chest-pains and exhaustion from stress. Even while my friend was trying to take me to the hospital, I was in denial of my own (very visible) pain and told her I couldn’t go because I had class in an hour.
Since then, I’ve worked hard to balance my work and my personal life. I now prioritize sleep and my diet, and I have learned to take a step back from the work to really examine how I am doing. If I am not running at my best capacity, I cannot dedicate my best to the work. In a way, I had to teach myself that, as important the work can be, I am important too.
Have you ever faced a dilemma where you weren’t sure what the “right” course of action was? How did you handle this situation?
When this kind of dilemma arises, it is easy to feel so anxious about making a decision that you’d rather give the responsibility to someone else. When you have partners or collaborators to turn to, it’s helpful to hear their insights. Of course, it eventually may come down to your call. I find what works best for me is to really examine my options and their impacts, and then find what solutions I may have if problems arise post-decision. In other cases, what works best for me is to try and find a new solution altogether. Sometimes, the weight of a dilemma will get you so caught up and overwhelmed that you don’t notice what else is available or possible.
That usually requires me to step away momentarily from the problem and think about what I have going on beyond the context of the dilemma. What else is there to do? What else needs attention? What have I done before? What haven’t I done before? Eventually, I do have to come to a decision and resolve to deal with whatever may follow. It isn’t always easy, but it is important to remind myself that I am working towards something important, so it must be done.
A recent personal dilemma was deciding whether or not to leave New York when COVID-19 started spreading in the city. I was terrified to go to my relatives in another state in case I’d get someone sick, I was unsure if I’d be able to return home to Mongolia due to border closures, and I was concerned about being completely alone in New York right after getting laid off from my job and as lockdown was approaching. I was calling my mother, my brother, my aunt and friends every single day trying to figure out what to do. I was desperate for guidance, but was met again and again with the conclusion that I was the one who had to make the decision.
In the span of three days my plans changed from staying, to leaving via car, to flying to my relatives in Colorado. In the end, what swayed my decision was learning that there was a place I could self-isolate after arriving in CO, eliminating my concern about spreading sickness. I know many others haven’t had the same options or privileges, which makes me feel even more strongly about the importance of keeping one another safe during these times.