Tina Zhang: Can you share a little bit about your background and what got you interested in Taiko and documentary work?

Jennifer Weir: I’m a Korean adoptee and I came to Minneapolis wanting to be an actor. I got involved with Theater Mu, which is an Asian American theater company. The artistic director, Rick Shiomi [playwright of Asian-American taiko movement in Canada and US], had done taiko in his life and he wrote it into a play. Rick did a demonstration of taiko, and I thought it was super cool, and I’d never seen it before. A group of us asked him to teach us, and he didn’t want to because he knew it would be a lot of work, and he thought we were just lazy actors.

But then he gave us a couple of classes, and we thought it was super fun, and then somebody asked us to perform at an event. After that we gave a concert, and then suddenly people wanted to take classes, people wanted to book us to perform, and believe me, we didn’t know what we were doing. It took years for us to even have a clue what we were doing. But the taiko program just took off. For many years I was doing theater and taiko and then eventually I ended up doing just taiko, partly it’s because I had a daughter and the schedule with taiko was a lot easier to manage than a theater schedule. taiko sort of took over my life in the best way. It wasn’t anything I was expecting or even looking for, but I just fell in love with it. All the best people in my life are there because of taiko now, so it’s worked out pretty well. 

In terms of the documentary, the film, I fell into that as well because I wanted to document the HerBeat concert but I wasn’t thinking of it as a film I was thinking of it as a concert. My friend who is a documentary filmmaker, Dawn Mikkelsoncholson [Emmy-award winning producer and filmmaker specializing in social justice stories], over lunch said, no, this is a film and I know exactly how I would do it. She had a vision for it already. So I said, that’s amazing, let’s do it! Then she told me how much it would cost and I couldn’t believe it. I never thought that we would make enough money to be able to do it. But I thought, well, let’s just see what happens. I thought I would try to find funding just for like the next step. I also thought maybe we’ll get a short film or a video essay or, you know, something cool out of it, but not necessarily a whole film. Then the pandemic hit and we shut down all of our programming and we diverted all of our funds towards the film and so we were able to finish the film because of that.

Zhang: I saw a lot of clips online and I also watched most of it too. I just really love how in taiko, every single group has a different style and they all learned and grew up with it in a different sort of way and bringing it all together is just really unique and interesting. How would you say the taiko landscape was back when you started, especially in Minnesota? 

Weir: Back when I started, it was definitely smaller and you had to travel. You had to get in a plane and fly somewhere in order to see another group perform or take a class from somebody or fly them in. Being in the midwest, we were pretty isolated. There’s another group named Kogen who were there before us and they were associated with Buddhist temple community. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. You can try things and do things and not be intimidated and not feel like it has to be a certain way. So we figured it out in our own way and that was nice. But we also had people like Kenny Endo [a trailblazing taiko artist and first non-Japanese national to receive a professional stage name] and Tiffany Tamarabuchi [a world-renowned taiko master and founder of the Jodaiko all-women’s ensemble] and, Tanaka-Sensei [Seiichi Tanaka, Grandmaster dubbed “Father of North American Taiko”, founder of San Francisco Taiko Dojo] who were willing to teach us and who would come to Minnesota. So we were able to work with guest artists, take master classes and get guidance throughout our time that helped shape us. In some ways we could take little bits of everybody else’s style and make it into our own. Our style is generally more movement based and very theatrical because it is inspired by our connection to theater.

As my love for the arts grew, so did my curiosity. My understanding grew over time as well. Meeting people who are patient, who are passionate, who embodied so much of the best parts of taiko made all the difference.

Zhang: Would you say you had any woman mentors when you were learning taiko or filmmaking as well?

Weir: Oh, absolutely, without question. Tiffany Tamarabuchi was a big influence, huge! With the filmmakers, it was Dawn Mikkelson and Keri Pickett [an acclaimed filmmaker and photographer known for documenting social movements] who co-directed the film. They are forces of nature in how they’ve carved out careers for themselves. 

In the film industry, and then taiko for a good long time, although that’s changed now, which is awesome, for a good long time, if you were a woman, you really had to carve out your own path. You had to chip away at it because nobody else was doing it. You have to figure it out and find people to champion you and find people to mentor you, there is no easy way forward. People had to trailblaze. 

So I feel like that’s why Finding Her Beat worked so well because the filmmakers really identified with the people in front of the camera in terms of being a pioneer in your field. 

Zhang: I really love that! In the movie, it’s sort of an embodiment of rhythm. It was very intentional. How would you feel that redefined what power looks like in taiko?

Weir: Well, the thing is that power, an embodiment of female power, is different than an embodiment of male power. Right? Strong embodied Asian women on stage–that in and of itself is revolutionary. You know, it’s similar in some ways to Drag Queens. Just by showing up, stepping on stage, revolutionary, right? Just by claiming their space. And so I feel that way for women in taiko. And so I think there’s something extra compelling. Obviously, I’m biased, right? 

But when you have to overcome more to claim that space center stage, then you’re inhabited with something different. Also, I think that whole idea of power being muscle, or power being energy, power looking graceful, power being um magnetism, you know there’s so many different ways that power can manifest that’s not just muscle and endurance.

In some ways, it’s like if you see a bunch of guys on stage being strong, hitting the drums, you’re like, oh, that’s very impressive, you guys are amazing. And then if you see a stage full of women being strong and hitting drums and being amazing, that’s like, wow! Why is it wow, right? It should be like, oh, that’s also amazing. But we don’t often see that. It’s still, to this day, not common. It’s not the first image you put in your mind when you think of a strong taiko player. You don’t necessarily think immediately of like… Chieko Kojima [a founding member of the legendary group Kodo and a pioneer of taiko and dance blend] or PJ Hirabayashi [the Artistic Director of San Jose Taiko and a leader in the North American taiko community]. You might think of some muscle-bound guy. So, I think that’s changing and it’s changing in real time and I think it’s awesome.

Zhang: Was there a specific moment in the film where you sort of realized that this sort of ensemble that you brought together was challenging this traditional expectation?

Weir: I knew it went from the start to the whole concept of it. Even when we got together on our first meeting, you go around the circle and introduce everybody. You can feel the electricity, the power, the experience, the vision and the passion in that room. You think how the people in this room are extraordinary and we are going to make something extraordinary happen. I didn’t know how it would happen, what it would look like, how it would go, but I knew that it would be something special. 

Zhang: What is something you think high school students should know about like your ensemble or like HerBeat specifically that they might not really see at first glance? 

Weir: I would say, think about how many times is your screen is filled with powerful Asian women. How many times does that happen? Whether it’s not just one, it’s not just two, but it’s like a screen full of them. And they’re all different. And they all have different styles, backgrounds, ages, et cetera. There’s diversity. They’re not the same. Anytime you’re the first at something, it feels momentous.

I would love for that to feel like a genre, right? Where there’s so much of it that it becomes a genre of its own as opposed to the first or the only. And so I would ask yourself, who’s not at the table? And why? What does it take to claim center stage and how can I do that in my life? Claiming your space and celebrating that doesn’t make anybody else less. It’s not like girls versus boys. It doesn’t take away from anyone else’s amazingness or accomplishments or worth for you to claim your own.

Zhang: I know you’ve mentioned some names earlier of women who have inspired you and are practitioners of taiko, especially early on. Is there anyone specifically that you think students should know and learn about? 

Weir: Tiffany Tamarabuchi, Chieko Kojima, PJ. For me, it was Iris Shiraishi [composer, conductor, and longtime leader at Mu Daiko]. My wife Megan Smith [prominent taiko performer and educator]. There’s so many! like everybody that was in the film for sure but then there’s like you know another hundred more that could have come if we had the money and the time to invite everybody there’s so many more brilliant people doing amazing things.

Zhang: Connecting to the WAPUSH project and Women’s AP US History, do you support the creation of this course? If so, could you share why you support it?

Weir: Oh gosh, yes! I grew up in a different time where everything I learned about was white men. So even when I was thinking about art, I was thinking about white male playwrights being the standard, you know, of all of these things. So, anything that expands your idea and makes more spaces for more voices, different paths, creativity, bravery, and can recognize community and the power of it is important. Because otherwise it gets absorbed and erased into the larger story and you lose your stories. We have to hold on to them because not only are they our history and our legacy, they’re the things that we stand on. So if you don’t even know about them, it’s like you’re starting over from scratch, right? There’s so many people who have built so much of our community.

Zhang: What would you say gives you the most hope when you look at the next generation of women performers and historians?

Weir: My daughter, she’s 15. The confidence that she has and the vocabulary and the references that she and her friends have and their understanding of the world is already so much more nuanced and empowered. It took me decades to get to where they are at 15. It took me decades, you know? So I think that young people today, the fact that they have language to articulate things, that they can see things and call things out more clearly, that they have this sense of what political and community power looks like is amazing. Anytime people, including me, get depressed about how the world is going, you just have to hang out with teenagers and you feel so much better. Because even though they have their own stuff they’re working on, a lot of stuff they have a clear eye to that adults are still blind or really slow to figure out. So you guys are so smart!

Zhang: If you could leave one last message for future students studying women’s history, what do you think it would be?

Weir: One message is that everybody’s got a story. And ask the people in your life, ask them for their stories.

Zhang: That’s really impactful. Thank you so much for joining me and sharing your time and insight; It’s really meaningful to the WAPUSH project, and I feel that I gained a lot of insight about taiko too.

Weir: Oh, that’s great, I love that you’re doing taiko and you are so far ahead. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even realize I was Asian until my 20’s. Do you know what I mean? I didn’t even know what that meant in any real way and it took me that long to even get a sense of what that was, never mind feel pride in it, never mind find strength in it. So I think you’re way ahead of the game, you’re awesome! So it’s lovely to meet you. Thank you so much. 

Zhang: Thank you so much.