Lifestyle
Asian American Women Are Redefining the ‘Old’ in Grandmother’s Gold
Chokers encrusted with rubies. Strands of bright emeralds. Delicate headpieces framed by opalescent pearls. These are just some of the golden treasures belonging to her mother that Farah Khalid long admired — and knew she would one day inherit.
That day, however, came far too soon. Khalid’s mother unexpectedly became ill and split her collection between Khalid and her older sister, Lubna, before dying in 2013. Then, in 2021, Khalid inherited the rest of her mother’s items when Lubna died at 47.
Khalid wanted to honor her family members by wearing their jewelry, but she typically preferred silver. She decided to take some of the smaller trinkets to Lahore, Pakistan, and remake them into a chain with her mother’s and sister’s names translated into Urdu. The necklace was washed to tone down the yellow hues, so she could wear it more frequently.
“Having their names on me out of something that they used to wear — it just felt really important to be close to them in that way,” said Khalid, 48, a film director who lives in Brooklyn.
Passing down gold is a common practice among many Asian families. The precious metal isn’t just a superfluous adornment; it’s seen as a liquid asset: something that can be traded, act as collateral or melted down and sold. In pop culture, gold has even become something of its own character: Consider the mangalsutra, a traditional Indian necklace representing marriage, in the Netflix hit TV show, “Never Have I Ever,” and the 2025 rom-com “Picture This,” in which Simone Ashley plays a financially struggling photographer who must marry in order to access her family’s heirloom jewelry.
For many Asian American women like Khalid, coming into these accessories from their mothers or grandmothers prompt questions about how to bring the past into the present. Many women simply stow away these delicate heirlooms in safe deposit boxes of their own. Others save the jewelry for special occasions like their weddings. Some have even reshaped them into more contemporary, wearable pieces. Here are four other women and the stories their gold jewelry tell.
‘Tiny Little Piece of History’
Alicia Penn, 42, Charleston, S.C.
Growing up in Baltimore, Alicia Penn and her siblings would make routine stops at a jewelry store with their mother after visiting the temple. Her mother would spend an hour haggling with the owners, family friends who were also Cambodian, to buy gold accessories that she had no intention of keeping. Instead she would wear a piece until a friend showed interest in buying it, then resell it for a profit.
Penn never gave a second thought to what her mother did. “She explained it as a way to invest and enjoy buying stuff,” Penn said. “I thought it was an interesting way to think about investing, as opposed to traditional stocks and bonds.”
What Penn didn’t know then was that the Khmer Rouge, which was responsible for the deaths of at least 1.7 million Cambodians, had abolished Cambodia’s currency, making gold even more valuable. Penn’s parents left the country before the most brutal years, 1975 to 1979, but her maternal grandmother wasn’t as lucky.
She eventually made it to the United States in 1980 and helped raise Penn and her siblings until she died when Penn was still a child. Penn learned the story of how her grandmother escaped in 2022 during a visit to her mother’s bank locker, where she was invited to select a piece of jewelry: a tiny flat piece of gold in the shape of a mermaid.
“I’d never seen anything like it before,” Penn said.
The jewelry was one of two remaining charms of a gold belt that once belonged to her grandmother. She had sold and bartered pieces of the belt, made up of charms linked together, to escape the genocidal killing fields and flee to Thailand on foot.
Penn wears the charm on a heavy gold chain with a malleable hook enclosure. “It’s this tiny little piece of history that you can’t replicate,” Penn said. “Nobody makes things like this anymore.”
‘I Want to Wear It’
Nigar Iqbal Flores, 39, Clovis, Calif.
Marrying a man outside her Pakistani heritage has complicated the issue of who might inherit Nigar Iqbal Flores’s familial gold, compounded even further by the couple having three boys. “One issue that I have to think through is: Are my kids going to marry a Desi girl who would appreciate this jewelry?” Flores said. “Or are they going to marry a Desi girl who does not appreciate it?”
Her children are still young, but the questions do offer an opportunity for a new tradition, already a familiar concept in her family.
When Flores’s parents got married in Karachi, her paternal family insisted that her mother not work. She defied them, becoming a professor of home economics, and spent her first paycheck on an emerald set, including a necklace, earrings, a tikka (headpiece) and a ring.
“When I was a little kid, I remember being like, What a weird set because circles are not a traditional shape,” Flores said. The reason, her mother said, was that she had designed them herself.
Her mother gave Flores the set the day after her own wedding in 2012. Now Flores is on the lookout to wear her mother’s emerald jewelry to as many formal occasions as she can. “I only buy green shalwar kameez now,” she said, referring to the traditional outfit of loose trousers and a long shirt. “Because I want to wear it.”
Something Reimagined
Robin Kasner, 41, Chicago
Robin Kasner remembers her 16th birthday being a bit of an ordeal. She was given a jade bangle that was measured so closely to her wrist that she needed the help of her popo (maternal grandmother), her mother, some oil and a plastic bag to slip it on. “I never took it off for 20 years,” Kasner said. “Until it shattered.”
A spontaneous visit to a batting cage led to it splitting it into four pieces. Kasner called her mother in tears, who didn’t mirror her panic. She said that in Chinese culture, when jade breaks, it’s a form of protection, and she advised Kasner to keep the pieces. But Kasner was determined to find a way to salvage it for posterity.
She came across Spur, a jeweler based in New York that reimagines heirlooms as everyday pieces. The broken bangle was remade into something else entirely: a smooth, curved jade pendant attached to a 22-karat gold chain. “I love that the broken piece was made into a new piece, and that it’s something that I can hopefully pass along to my future daughter,” Kasner said.
An ‘Acceptance of the Relationship’
Lisa Kumar, 51, Franklin, Mich.
As a child, Lisa Kumar didn’t love the yellow gold she associated with Indian jewelry. But as her mother, now 83, began bequeathing more and more pieces to her, she finally came around. For Kumar, the jewelry offers a reminder of having been hard-won.
Kumar’s father came as a student in the 1960s to the United States from Mumbai. He soon met her mother, who is white and American, and they fell in love and got married — a decision that his parents weren’t pleased about. The couple made a trip to India shortly after their nuptials to meet the family, and, when it was time to leave, Kumar’s mother decided to stay behind for almost two months to travel around southern India with her new in-laws. “That was a really pivotal moment in her relationship with them because they didn’t think that she could hack it,” Kumar said. “And she did.”
Over the following years, Kumar’s grandmother gave her daughter-in-law jewelry: heavier pieces but also simple things she could wear, like half a set of gold bangles. “My grandmother giving all of this over to her was a sign of acceptance of the relationship, acceptance of my mother,” Kumar said.
Now Kumar tries to wear the accessories whenever she can and plans to pass them on to her own daughter, who is 20 and mostly wears silver. “I’m hopeful that as she ages,” Kumar said, “she’ll come around to it the way that I have.”
This story is part of a series on how Asian Americans are shaping American popular culture. The series is funded through a grant from The Asian American Foundation. Funders have no control over the selection and focus of stories or the editing process and do not review stories before publication. The Times retains full editorial control of this series.
Lifestyle
James Burrows, director of classic shows ‘Cheers’ and ‘Friends,’ dies at 85
Director James Burrows attends the “Will & Grace” start of production kick off event and ribbon cutting ceremony at Universal City Plaza on August 2, 2017 in Universal City, California.
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LOS ANGELES — James Burrows, who helped create volumes of laughter as director of more than a thousand episodes of such classic television comedies as “Cheers,” “Taxi,” “Friends” and “Will and Grace,” died Friday. He was 85.
His family confirmed his death in a statement to People, saying he “passed away peacefully today surrounded by his family.” No location or cause of death was provided.
Burrows spent his career behind the camera specializing in situation comedies. Few viewers recognized him or knew his name, other than to see it flash quickly on the screen in the opening credits. But they knew his work.
Burrows got his start in television relatively late at age 35 in 1974, directing episodes of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” “The Bob Newhart Show,” and “Laverne & Shirley.”
He co-created “Cheers,” directing 243 of the 273 episodes, as well as all 246 episodes of “Will and Grace.”
He also helmed multiple episodes of such hits as “Frasier,” “Friends” and “Mike & Molly,” and the pilots of “Two and a Half Men” and “The Big Bang Theory.”
“When I direct a television show, I try to reach that sweet spot where the best script meets the best performance and the best chemistry between performers,” Burrows wrote in his 2022 memoir “Directed by James Burrows.” “Hitting that exact moment, where these factors land in combination, results in the sweetest and most enduring laugh.”
His family said, “Burrows understood that great comedy was never simply about laughter. It was about humanity, connection, and truth. That understanding became the foundation of a career that forever changed television.
“But beyond his remarkable achievements, Burrows will be remembered for something even greater: his kindness, generosity, and unwavering belief in the people around him. He possessed a rare ability to make everyone better and was known for remembering every person he met by name, making colleagues at every level feel seen, valued, and appreciated,” the family statement said.
Born James Edward Burrows on Dec. 30, 1940, in Los Angeles, he moved to New York when he was 5 years old. He spent five years in the Metropolitan Opera Children’s Chorus until his voice started to change. He attended LaGuardia High School of Music & Art.
His father was writer, director and producer Abe Burrows, whose Broadway hits included “Guys and Dolls” and “Can-Can.” The elder Burrows also mentored Larry Gelbart, future creator and producer of the TV show “M(asterisk)A(asterisk)S(asterisk)H.”
The younger Burrows spent hours of his youth in theaters and studios watching his father work, dining with him at such famed New York haunts as Sardi’s and Gallagher’s and meeting celebrities who attended his father’s New Year’s Eve parties.
After earning a bachelor’s degree from Oberlin College, Burrows attended the graduate program of the Yale School of Drama, where his classmates included actor-comedian Robert Klein, playwright John Guare and film director John Badham.
At Yale, he was required to take directing classes and he got hooked.
Burrows’ first sitcom experience was as Burl Ives’ dialogue coach on “O.K. Crackerby!” which was directed by his father and ran for one season on ABC in 1965.
From there, he was an assistant on “The Patty Duke Show.” He moved back to New York and worked for Broadway producers Lee Guber, Frank Ford and Shelly Gross. He first met actor Moore while working on the Broadway production of “Holly Golightly,” an adaptation of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” that was directed by his father.
Burrows eventually worked as a stage manager for various road productions, where he met such actors as Hugh O’Brien, Zsa Zsa Gabor and Julie Harris.
By 1974, after working in dinner theater and summer stock, he turned on his television and saw Moore’s eponymous TV show. He wrote her a letter asking if there was any opening “small or smaller” at her production company that he could fill, according to his memoir.
Moore’s husband and business partner, Grant Tinker, invited Burrows to Los Angeles to direct an episode of the comedy. He apprenticed for MTM Enterprises, which had four sitcoms on the air at the same time.
Burrows cited his theater background for learning how to give actors direction and block out scenes. He’s credited for being one of the first sitcom directors to increase the typical multi-camera television shoot from three to four cameras.
The common thread between Burrows’ shows were the bonds between friends and unrelated families, whether it was the motley crew of regulars meeting at the bar in “Cheers” or the drivers working toward a better life in “Taxi” or the 20-somethings sharing the same apartment building in “Friends.”
“The best sitcoms transcend the screen and reach out and grab the audience by the throat and by the heart,” Burrows wrote in his memoir.
He relished discovering new acting talent while directing more than 75 pilots that were picked up as series.
“Having directed over a thousand shows means that almost any night you can turn on your television or go online and find a show that I directed. I’m very proud of that,” he wrote in his memoir.
In 2019, Burrows was an executive producer on live productions of “All in the Family” and “The Jeffersons” with famous actors re-creating episodes of those 1970s comedies.
Burrows was married in 1997 to Debbie Easton, whom he met when she worked as a hairstylist on “Frasier.” Daughters Kat Schatzow, Ellie Gluck and Maggie Burrows, who followed her father into directing, are from his first marriage to Linda Solomon, who died in 2004. His stepdaughter Paris is from his wife’s previous marriage. He has a sister, Laurie Burrows Grad, and seven grandchildren.
Lifestyle
Beer, with a twist? SoCal dads find solidarity through an unexpected activity
GOLETA — For a few minutes, the atmosphere inside Captain Fatty’s Brewery in Santa Barbara County was quiet, different from the usual Friday night clamor.
On this late May evening, the 15 men gathered there were contemplating tackling something few had previously had the courage or skill to take on. Austin Nieves, a recent transplant to the area and the man who had brought this brave group together, broke the strained silence by handing out beers.
Within minutes, the men, who ranged in age from 30 to 60, began chatting among themselves.
Then they started braiding hair.
The May 22 event — Goleta’s version of the viral U.K.-inspired “Pints and Ponytails” night — was sold out. The idea is to have expert hairstylists train uninitiated or intimidated fathers on how to comb and braid their kids’ hair, using salon-type head mannequins but in a setting for bros.
“When the first guys got there, they were stiff,” said Nieves, a Pasadena native who moved to Santa Barbara in April 2025. “Then after that first beer, they went from sitting around the edge of the bar to jumping right into learning and giving it a shot.”
Dads group members Dan Ucko, left, and Eric Schalla participate in the hairstyling event at Captain Fatty’s Brewery in Goleta.
The gathering was one of several father functions by the Santa Barbara Dads group, which Nieves founded last spring.
May’s papa party offered, along with the suds, a learning experience and camaraderie among fathers, which Nieves believes is much needed.
“When my wife had our son, she immediately became part of at least five mom groups and classes that offered her help, advice, friendship and training,” Nieves said. “As a first-time father, I really only had my brothers, who had children themselves, to turn to.”
Scientific studies have shown that as fathers have taken a more active role in child rearing, they’ve faced loneliness, doubt and confusion.
Researchers Chris Knoester and David J. Eggebeen wrote in 2006 in the “Journal of Family Issues” that fatherhood leads “to declines in feelings of well-being and participation in social activities” as fathers spend less time with friends.
Clinical psychologists Hillary Halpern and Maureen Perry-Jenkins documented that the transition from single life to fatherhood is often accompanied by a roller coaster of emotions. And researchers from Stockholm’s Karolinska Institute determined in a 2021 study that fathers might require help “during their transition to fatherhood.”
Eric Drachman, of Santa Barbara, center, pays close attention as hair stylist Chi Jou Lin, left, teaches a group of dads how to style their daughters’ hair.
A detail of one of the mannequin heads.
One such way to assist men is specifically a fathers group, according to the 2021 study.
Most men “were mostly satisfied with participating in father groups and described that they positively impacted their relationship with their partner and child.”
The increased contact also helped improve “their self-confidence and family equality and decreased their loneliness.”
Nieves agreed that his leisure time and focus changed sharply after the birth of his child, Hudson, now 3 years old, as did his friend group updates.
“They were talking about all this crazy fun or TV shows and I was talking about my son being able to lift his head,” Nieves said. “That’s when I knew I had to branch out.”
Nieves, then living in Costa Mesa with his wife, Katie, created the Orange County Dads club in October 2023.
Scientific studies have shown that as fathers have taken a more active role in child rearing, they’ve faced loneliness, doubt and confusion.
His group of merry men held meetups at coffee shops, beer halls and the zoo, hosted holiday hootenannies and even offered CPR classes.
Its success helped spawn a chapter in the Whittier area.
Though strictly a fathers club, the group, Nieves said, has grown thanks to wives and partners sharing his social media posts with their husbands.
Mikhail Alfon, founder of Blue Light Media, a social media strategy agency, took his son, Santos, to multiple Orange County meetups.
“This is our first child and obviously life changes a lot,” said Alfon in a social media post. “Finding peers and friends that are in the same stage of life is great.”
That sense of community, however, faced a challenge as Nieves and his family purchased a home in Santa Barbara and moved in April 2025.
Peter Aguilar, left, and Fredy Medel work on their technique. Medel’s partner, Daniela Fajardo, holding their 1-year-old daughter, Faylani, records the event.
Within a month, however, he had established a Santa Barbara-based dads group. Their first meetup was in May 2025, and they’ve made a point to gather once a month.
Austin Jones, a Santa Barbara-based real estate agent and investor, found Nieves through Instagram.
“I’m a husband, a dad and businessman, and it ends up being a lot of hats but very little support, at times,” Jones said. “It’s nice to find people in the trenches with you.”
Jones was intrigued by Pints and Ponytails as he’s battled the hair-care needs of his 2 ½-year-old daughter, Noa, and her textured, curly locks.
In a short while, Jones had gained enough confidence in whipping his mannequin’s hair into a ponytail that he vowed to try with his daughter soon.
“I was only pretty good at putting on a headband before this,” he quipped.
The six mannequin heads and the hour of instruction came courtesy of Santa Barbara cosmetologist Chi Jou “Belle” Lin, who offers area mobile services.
“I saw the social media post and a lot of people reached out to me to teach the class,” Lin said. “I had to help.”
Lin said the mannequins she brought varied in hair length and type, from straight to coily, but also fine in texture, as she tried to replicate young children’s hair.
A pint of beer, hairstyling tools and sprays.
She also taught the fathers basic hair-care techniques, including shampooing, detangling, checking for lice and how to tie ponytails and braids.
Even if they started out reticent, the fathers became active participants, asking questions about creating a neat French braid, what to do about tangled ponytails and how to deal with frightened children, Lin said.
“I was really impressed with the dads and their skills and the real-life questions,” said the stylist, who has personal experience at home in her 2 ½-year-old daughter, Lotus. “Not all men have the courage to ask questions.”
For Nieves, the secret in gaining new dads and retaining others is simplicity.
“If you open the door, the fathers will follow because everyone can use some help,” Nieves said. “But they just need to know it exists and they’re not alone.”
Dads Gabriel Sandoval, left, Jose Guerrero and David Talavera toast one another at the May 22 Santa Barbara County Dads’ “Pints and Ponytails” event in Goleta.
Days after the Goleta get-together, Santa Barbara dad Eric Drachman became a celebrity at the preschool of his daughter, Noa, who is soon to be 3.
“When the videos of the event were posted, the teachers at the school recognized me,” Drachman said. “They would ask my daughter, ‘Who did your hair?’”
The query that means most, however, is when Noa asks her father to fix her hair.
“She asks occasionally,” he said. “It‘s such a fun dynamic we have.”
Lifestyle
This Pride month, teen flicks are recasting familiar tropes with a queer sensibility
Stacy Clausen and Joe Bird in Leviticus.
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Summer movies aimed at high-schoolers — comedies, romances, horror flicks — have been a tradition for ages. Think Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Dirty Dancing and the original Friday the 13th, which all drew hot-weather crowds back in the 1980s.
This summer, the movies are queer — not just in casting, but in method and purpose. These three teen flicks transform familiar movie styles by bringing them an LGBTQ sensibility.
A raunchy comedy: She’s the He
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You know the drill: a bonkers lose-my-virginity plan is hatched by inseparable high-school best buds who are so eager to get girls to notice them, they can hardly think straight.
So, they don’t think … straight. For reasons that could only make sense to horny 17-year-olds, Ethan and Alex decide the way to catch the attention of the school’s hottest girls is to pretend to be trans.
Filmmaker Siobhan McCarthy uses that premise to tell a sweet story about Ethan (who realizes mid-scam that she really is trans), while also mocking some of the more ridiculous transphobic notions — “bathroom scare,” anyone? — that have been politically weaponized recently.
When the whole football team decides that donning women’s attire is a small price to pay to get access to the girls’ locker room, McCarthy prompts boisterous laughs while also establishing how idiotic and unlikely this scenario would be in real life. Casting trans men — say, team captain played by Emmett Preciado — as the cis male characters allows McCarthy to further poke at conservative anxieties.
As leads Alex and Ethan, Nico Carney (a sharp trans comic whose read on toxic masculinity proves hilarious), and Misha Osherovich (sweetly affecting as Ethan discovers her true self) head a terrific, mostly trans and non-binary cast. And a similarly queer team behind the camera helps make She’s the He a raucous, touching, seriously fun charmer — think Some Like It Hot meets American Pie with a Heartstopper vibe.
The romance: Girls Like Girls
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This gentle teen love story sprang from a hit song Hayley Kiyoko released in 2015. The music video that accompanied the song pictured a budding lesbian romance and has since racked up over 160 million YouTube views. In 2023, Kiyoko penned a young adult book version, which debuted at the top of bestseller lists. Now, she’s brought all of those elements together in a movie about Coley (Maya da Costa) and Sonya (Myra Molloy), two 17-year-old girls navigating a summer romance that takes both of them by surprise.
First-time filmmaker Kiyoko seems content to honor teen romance conventions in a more or less by-the-book tale of first love that has been through enough permutations to feel vaguely workshopped. Still, she’s gotten engaging performances from her leads, as well as from a supporting cast that includes Zach Braff as a loving dad, and Levon Hawke (son of Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman) as Sonya’s jealous boyfriend.
The horror thriller: Leviticus
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First-time feature writer/director Adrian Chiarella uses horror conventions in this Australian thriller to explore the trauma caused by a particularly callous strain of homophobic cruelty. The story is centered in a small mill town where high school boys Naim (Joe Bird) and Ryan (Stacy Clausen) fall for each other, only to run afoul of the conservative teachings of their religious community.
Chiarella imagines a Christian sect that has put conversion therapy on steroids, curbing queer desire with a scare-away-the-gay ritual that conjures supernatural demons. The boys smirk as church leaders conduct the ritual, but later discover that when they’re left alone, they’re attacked by murderous entities that take the form of the person they love — each other. Soon, reaching out to — even just seeing each other in school hallways fills them with anxiety. This is, of course, the design: the church leaders want them to be scared. And it will never end.
It’s a conversion therapy metaphor as apt for gay kids as the metaphor in Jordan Peele’s thriller Get Out was for victims of racial bigotry.
Breathtakingly well-crafted, Leviticus clearly has queer teen audiences in mind — all three of these films do — but not exclusively. Yes, Leviticus fills a representation gap. It’s also freakin’ scary.


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