When Angela Lin was growing up in Taiwan, her father’s Mahjong set was saved for special occasions. On evenings of celebration, such as Chinese New Year or Christmas, it would be brought out of hiding and bring her home to life. Her normally reserved father would spend the night yelling and laughing with friends over a game at their kitchen table. Regularly indulging in the gambling game would be unbecoming of a family man like him, but the times that Lin did see her father partaking left an impression. Mahjong maintained a phantom presence in Lin’s life into adulthood, but she never learned to play — until she suddenly found herself under pandemic lockdown in Taiwan.
Lin had finally found the opportunity to quell her curiosity and she grew obsessed with the game. Upon returning to the US after living in Taiwan for two years, however, Lin realized that she had no one to play with. That is until friends Susan Kounlavongsa, Abby Yingtong Wu and Zoé Blue M learned to play. Together, they are now “Mahjong Mistresses.” What started as a small idea — an event where they could teach the game to friends — quickly became much bigger. By the time that the Mahjong Mistress event rolled around on Oct. 1, of this year, the group had received an influx of over 200 RSVPs. They didn’t believe so many people would even care about Mahjong, but little did they know that groups in the same vein were cropping up from San Diego, to Oakland to New York. Mahjong is an ancient game that’s never truly lost its hold on people, but it gained a reputation of being for older generations — along the lines of bocce or shuffleboard. So how did Mahjong find itself a mini-zeitgeist in the Asian creative space?
Lin and Kounlavongsa go way back. They met in LA through their shared interests in food and music, Kounlavongsa is studio manager of the NTS Radio LA station, where the group held its first teaching session. The pair later met Yingtong Wu, also in the music business working at 88Rising as a producer. Blue M is the most recent introduction into the fold after they all met at Little Tokyo Table Tennis, a weekly event that’s mission is aligned with Mahjong Mistress’ and has brought the LA Asian community together. Lin taught each of her friends how to play Mahjong. They each had some experience or memories tied to the game but never a chance to play.
Although they were all taught Taiwanese Mahjong, they each come from different Asian backgrounds. Kounlavongsa is Laotian. Yingtong Wu is the youngest and grew up in Hong Kong before moving to New York and settling in LA for her job. She then found herself quickly embedded into its Asian creative scene. Blue M is a Japanese American fine artist who was recently featured in the Jeffrey Deitch gallery for her group work, “Wonder Women.” Finally there is Lin, Taiwanese, who works with Light in the Attic Records and her own label, Pure Person Press. They each shared a desire to cultivate a healthier Asian American community in LA. After witnessing the success of the Little Tokyo Table Tennis league they realized that they could do that through Mahjong by activating a playful spirit in the community.
And, yes, they all learned Taiwanese Mahjong, but what the group found so valuable about the game was its widespread popularity all throughout the world. There is Chinese Mahjong, Taiwanese Mahjong, Korean Mahjong, among others, all of which are incredibly complex. Variations on aspects like tile organization and tile amount distinguish each culture’s gameplay. The US’ history dates back to the early 20th century when a Mahjong fad spread across the country. Notably, a good percentage of the country’s Jewish population has maintained its relationship with the game. That same strength leaves the game vulnerable to misappropriation, however.
Most recently, “The Mahjong Line” of tiles was released to the disappointment of many within the Asian community, but the issue was tied not simply to the concept of appropriation, but in the company’s advertising, which completely erased Mahjong’s roots in Asian cultures. Lin said, “It’s definitely something where just like any other game it all comes from somewhere. But [the point of] a game is being there and having a good time,” but she did feel that nuance was required for the situation. She continued, “So many people forwarded me that when it first happened. That’s fucking gross because- it’s not their game, and it’s not theirs to introduce. It’s not theirs to capitalize on. That’s what it was…obviously a money grab.” The Mahjong Mistresses members position their event as cultural exchange, a way to invite people to learn about their culture in a respectful environment that also enriches the community.
Oct. 1 was the chilliest evening in a while. In true LA fashion I had to park several blocks away from the NTS studio in the Pico-Union neighborhood of LA. I walked in silence, brimming with anticipation and excitement — I don’t get out much — before arriving 15 minutes later. I took a deep breath on the corner and walked in, feeling intimidated by the people around me, thinking they were so cool. It felt as though I had unknowingly walked into a street fashion photo shoot. I met up with Lin and she brought me to a table pre-populated by three strangers — we were ready to start. Or, we would be. Whenever we figured out how to. The girl next to me drank wine out of the bottle while I sipped on a Thai tea cocktail, one of the many Asian-inspired drinks they had available that night. I tried my best to follow along with the directions as Lin instructed us, but I had no idea what I was doing. We rolled the dice as retro Asian pop played in the background over the sounds of tiles clacking. I ran my fingers across their embossed designs while my table exchanged their experiences with Mahjong, of which there were few. I did not win, but that was okay. It was nice to hold the hefty pieces in my hands and talk to the strangers about life.
The event wouldn’t have been possible without the help provided by friends of the self-proclaimed Mahjong Mistresses. Kounlavongsa was able to organize the space, Jess Wang of Gu Grocery provided Taiwanese snacks, David Linchen designed their flier and photos were taken by Jeffrey Tang. That’s just a few among the many collaborators that the group found in their network of Asian professionals. It was incredible to see so many successful people of color collaborating on an event that’s only purpose was to be fun.
Speaking before the event, Lin gave context for the gameplay: “It stops being about winning and more about conserving your own power so that nobody else wins.” It was difficult to prepare for how difficult learning Mahjong would be, I had no experience reading Chinese and the “dumbed down” rules were still confusing, but it was still fun — between the “Mistresses” walking between each table to guide players, the useful mini-guides they made and learning with a table of strangers. The others playing at my table agreed with Lin’s hypothesis about the Mahjong zeitgeist, “People are realizing like, Hey, this is like a sick game. Why don’t we spend time to go back and re-examine what this game is and what it’s about and explore cultural roots. Which is happening all around the Asian art scene — wanting to go back to your roots.”
Alan Chen and Jenn Lui own Baba’s House in Oakland, which opened last November. Lui, who grew up playing Mahjong with her family every weekend, was looking for a way to incorporate her culture into the den inside of their multi-purpose space that also boasts a restaurant curated by AC Boral, an Asian snack shop and a media room. We spoke on Zoom and she recounted falling in love with the sight of the tile set on the table, just as customers looking to book the room found themselves not knowing what to play. For their first event they had two tables ready to play, but needed at least two more. Lui and Chen’s parents saved the day and offered their very own sets. Describing her parents’ set she said: “They’ve had it for probably a decade now. It’s random. It’s sparkly and purple on top,” she continued, “the other table is actually Alan’s, my partner at the shop. It’s his mom’s little traveling Mahjong table. So it’s really cool. It actually looks like a briefcase. And then you can open it and put the legs in.” The grandpa of a close friend of theirs even loaned his set to play with. These contributions made the event that much more special to Lui and Chen.
Lui offered a crash course on Mahjong before letting guests try for themselves. She said that of the 20 people who showed up, only three of them knew how to play the game before going to Baba’s House. The group itself was diverse, with Lui saying, “People learn some things. That was exciting, a lot of folks of different ethnic ethnicities showed up. For sure we had a range. It wasn’t all Chinese folks. It was a mixture of Asian and white and Black.” Chen says that the space itself — luscious dark red walls, shiny golden mural, and Mahjong tables — is appealing enough to make customers curious. He’s also pretty sure that the Mahjong scene from “Crazy Rich Asians” played a role in the uptick in Mahjong interest.
The difficulty of Mahjong makes gatekeeping it unnecessary to in Chen’s eyes: “It’s kind of a complicated game if no one teaches you,” he said. “So if you’re just sitting around watching people play, it’s really hard to figure out” — meaning that like most games, if you’re willing to learn, you will be allowed to play. Mahjong specifically demands cultural exchange. For traditional sets, at least, you need to learn at least the numbers one through nine in Chinese. Despite having huge cultural importance, it’s also worth noting that Mahjong is a gambling game without the same kind of significance as clothing or hairstyles.
Teaching Mahjong is as, if not more, important than the component of cultural exchange. The revitalization of Mahjong is helping a new generation of Asians and Asian Americans feel reconnected to their heritage. Says Lui: “To be able to see people and folks of our generation play and have a laugh, and have such a great time, really brings me back to that space of a happy home. My parents, they were hard workers. And so to see them with their friends, laughing and being sassy with each other, was a really, really beautiful time.”
Baba’s House continues to hold monthly Mahjong nights which are streamed on Twitch. The Mahjong Mistress group will be holding a semi-private event this December 11 teaching another lucky group about the intricacies of their hobby. Both organizers continue to champion the beauty of their heritage one tile at a time.