Kristy Park Kulski for Women in Horror Month
1. Introduce yourself. What do you want people to know about you and your work?
I’d say I’m someone who’s never fit well into boxes or expectations. I’m biracial (Korean and white), bisexual, a progressive military veteran of two branches of service (Navy and Air Force) and have worked in multiple career fields (such as history professor, cryptologic technician, and game designer).
The core of my work is feminist, exploring women’s experiences, informed of course, by my identity as a Korean-American woman. I’m often inspired by history and frequently my work features historical events/people/places.
2. Who or what were your earliest horror influences?
Stories of true hauntings. I’ve loved ghost stories since I was little (especially if they are claimed to have actually happened) yet at the same time they scared the crap out of me. (I’ve always been a horror wimp!)
My favorite were the Mysteries of the Unknown series by Time-Life Books. I’d get nightmares for days, yet I’d still go right back to the basement library of my Catholic school and pick out another volume. And the cycle would go on.
3. You recently started an initiative called Resonant 8, "a grassroots project by the writer community against MAGA despotism." What inspired you to be the one to start this initiative? Imagine Resonant 8 at its very best. What would that look like, and how can other writers support that vision?
Thank you for asking about Resonant 8. I often joke that my ability to organize is both my superpower and curse. I started Resonant 8 simply because I must do something to fight back. I took my oath to the people of the United States seriously in the military and that’s not something that fades away. I know we all need to contribute when and where we can in the struggle for democracy. This is one way I can do that.
My great hope is Resonant 8 becomes an initiative that belongs to the greater writer community. Our power is in our words and many of us have developed platforms (or the platforms found us) where we have influence, however great or small. I’d love to see writers contributing articles to Resonant 8 talking about things they find concerning about the socio-political situation of the United States, to share insight, as well as to inspire. I’d love to see the writer community coming together to contribute, discuss, and promote these articles.
For example, we already have a couple interviews with civil servants on the website—these are vital voices with vital stories. We have the power to give those voices a greater platform to be heard by many. As our mainstream media cedes more power and falls under the influence of authoritarianism, things like lifting voices will be needed even more.
We have dark times ahead. In my perspective, writers and comedians are our modern-day philosophers. We bring ideas and ways to frame those ideas. Our words become the whispers in the darkness for survival. I want people to know that I and many writers will continue speaking truth to power. I hope Resonant 8 represents all of this.
4. What role does your identity as a Korean-Polish writer play in your work?
I’ve recently forged ahead with exploring my identity as a biracial person in my work. By recent, I guess, I mean the last few years. I’ve never given myself permission to do so and now I’m cracking everything open and the ghosts are leaping out and it’s been a challenge to keep up.
Being Asian and mixed Asian in America are experiences with lots of intersections and complexity. Being part of the Korean diaspora requires me to work with those ghosts because there are just so many of them. I think Korean people are especially haunted. There’s something within us that aches with the history of the Pennisula. We all seem to carry it around and I find that fascinating but also immense in meaning. I’ve learned in exploring my mother’s story that this identity cannot be separated from the tragedy of Korean history and colonialism.
My Polish heritage is a bit more of a challenge. I had very little influence from that heritage as my Polish grandfather passed away long before I was born. But as usual, digging through history and working with its seeds in my work has given me a sense of ownership I never had before over my white heritage as well. Writing Fairest Flesh was an act of exploring Eastern European history with the Hapsburg Empire. I soon learned that my Polish ancestors were from the most South and Southeastern regions of Poland. An area that was part of Ruthenian identity, a region of overlap with what is modern Ukraine and Slovakia.
So, ultimately, I write for myself first as an exploration of identity and because of that, it all has significant importance in my work.
5. Imagine you're standing in front of a crowd of every horror creative—authors, filmmakers, podcasters, journalists, etc. What would you want them to know about your experience as a woman in the genre?
Intersectionality is essential. I’m a writer who often writes from the experience of womanhood, and that womanhood cannot be separated from my Asian-ness and biracial-ness.
My experience as an Asian woman writing horror is often one where the industry frequently minimizes or ignores Asian women’s experiences. Intercultural understanding is essential here. For many Asian women, to complain too loudly or draw attention to ourselves has negative cultural associations as well as potential for being unsafe especially in the diaspora where we are fetishized. It doesn’t mean our experiences aren’t important, not painful, or deserve to be erased or ignored. We’ve been taught not to complain. It’s also a constant game of worrying if we are representing Asian women right, or if we are “enough” to speak up, or wonder if we are falling into stereotypes or worry we are subconsciously going against stereotypes simply because we are so aware of them and the expectations.
Often just being here in this space as an Asian woman has been an act of rebellion most people don’t see or know about. It’s a rebellion against expectations from multiple sources, sometimes even our own families. People don’t see what we went through to take up what little space we have, so it’s all the more painful when our experiences and work are minimized.
Kristy Park Kulski is a Hawaii-born Korean-American author, historian, and career vampire of patriarchal tears. Channeling a lifelong obsession with history and the morose she’s managed to birth the gothic horror novel, Fairest Flesh, and novella, House of Pungsu, and the forthcoming anthology Silk & Sinew. She bartered nine years of her life to the U.S. Navy and Air Force for food and later taught college history for a captive audience. Trapped by a force field, she currently resides in the woods of Northeast Ohio where she (probably) brews potions and talks to ghosts.
Follow her on Bluesky @garnetonwinter.bsky.social or garnetonwinter.com.