There’s a galaxy out there, and it’s rapidly approaching. Did you know it’s because of WWIII that Star Trek came to be? It was only after nuclear war and losing about 30% of the human population that we finally got it together and decided to take our human bullshit to space. We had to destroy everything and everyone to reach Utopia.

     Or so Captain Picard tells me while I gorge on three rolls of fluffy buttered pandesal, several
helpings of my Nana’s pancit, and my Dad’s chicken adobo with just the right amount of kick to it. My Dad comments that he wants to captain the USS Enterprise, and I tell him that he looks like Filipino Picard. They’ve got the same bald head and nose. Just make Picard brown and they’d be identical. He laughs at that before continuing his doom scroll on Instagram Reels. I’d be offended if we hadn’t seen this movie, and the rest of the Star Trek franchise, a bajillion times.

      It’s two days after Thanksgiving, the one time a year we eat the food of our ancestors, and pretend to be different from all those white families eating stuffing and green beans. Every year my family gathers to down lumpia after lumpia, like how the theatre kids down vodka shots at cast parties and pretend to be cool with sweet and sour sauce as our chaser. Similar to those loser-filled parties, my family events are a liminal space, where my cousins and I feel a sense of belonging in a world that doesn’t recognize us. You thought first-gen mixed-race stories were good examples of identity crises? Try having both your parents
be mixed-race.

     Let’s just say that my Mom’s idea of an “Asian night” is our homemade “Korean chicken” (from
a Google recipe) with Trader Joe’s frozen pajeon and tteokbokki. Yeah, we’re super authentic up here. My cousins and I were destined to have an identity crisis at least once a year. This, and his pretty hot actor, are probably why Spock is my favorite Star Trek character. He’s half Vulcan and half human. The poor guy spends his entire life trying to live up to his Vulcan father’s expectations, while also attempting to connect
with his human colleagues. His character growth and eventual self-acceptance are truly inspiring. He is the poster child for all wasians trying to gain diversity points in their college essays. My college counselor told me that race stories are overdone, and I should write about something different, which may be true, but that coming from a white man was sorta jarring.

     Anyway, this problematic holiday is my favorite time of year, partially because I get to see my
dog after being away at college, but mostly because I get to eat five lumpia within the span of a few minutes without judgment. This is true bliss. The biggest reason, though, is that there's been enough time between my Dad and I’s last Star Trek rewatch, so we can begin the thirteen-film franchise again, much to my Mom’s displeasure.

     The Alternate Original Series (2009-2016) is our favorite set of films, the ones with Chris Pine,
Zachary Quinto, and Karl Urban. This is a controversial take, I think, but the Star Trek fandom is too small right now to have any kind of consensus. It’s our Star Trek, though. I grew up watching this timeline, and its action-movie feel has a greater appeal to my Dad. I think the older movies remind him too much of my grandfather for those to be a casual watch anyway.

     Right now, we’re watching Star Trek: First Contact (1996), which is based on The Next
Generation, the Star Trek that my Dad grew up watching with his dad. It’s got everything you could ever need, Patrick Stewart and a sexy android. Like all Star Trek media, The Next Generation aims to remind
the viewers that maybe, just maybe, everything doesn’t really fucking suck. Like, maybe hope is still out there, and really, if all fails, we can just spread our problems to the rest of the universe and give Miss Mother Earth a breather. The solution to all our problems? Space colonization! But in a non-colonizer way, don’t worry, I promise it’s totally chill, not weird... Most of the time.

     And honestly, when I’m lying wide awake at night, staring up at my shitty glow-in-the-dark star
stickers, worried sick that my mom’s mother country, North Korea, is going to nuke us at any moment, I think of how maybe some Vulcans will head down to Earth and be like, “Hey, y’all. Saw you got some nifty technology, why don’t you come space adventuring with us?” They’ll hold up the Vulcan salute and say, “Live long and prosper. TTYL.” And then my Dad can captain a real starship instead of making really annoying space noises when we drive his Ford truck to the farmer’s market on Saturday mornings.

     Or maybe, Kim Jong Un will just kill us. At least I’ll find out if my great-uncle’s sermons were
deadass or not and if the heartburn I felt during Christian camp was Jesus entering my soul or just my body reacting to the questionable veggie burger I ate an hour prior to mass.

     And so, despite Earth’s strikingly bleak-looking future, Star Trek reminds us all that we can
persevere through anything, and that deep down, there’s humanity inside every being, from humans to Vulcans to Klingons. No matter what, no matter what crazy situation the crew of the USS Enterprise lands themselves in, it's their love and hope for humanity and each other that bring them home safe. That and some really cool photon torpedoes. Shit on the power of friendship all you want, but at the end of the day, it’s the people around you that truly matter. When I’m crying, alone in my moldy college dorm, all I have
to do is put on Star Trek: Beyond to feel safe and at home as I’m immersed in a world filled with
adventures and characters I love. A beautiful world that’s inspired by the very one I’m living in. I feel like I’m in that starship with them, exploring the final frontier.

     I could get into the gritty details and be all, well Kirk taught me to be brave and Bones taught me
how to be the right amount of asshole to my friends, but that’s boring. So, I’ll just tell you about my Dad. Star Trek impacted his character so much that he is a woke Republican. Yep, that’s right. Gay people? Sure, why not? Abortions? Bring them on! Racism? Nah. Star Trek is the train to Woke City. Hop on, people! I mean this is the fandom that aided the spread of fanfiction and ABO along with our brothers and sisters in Christ, the Supernatural fandom. You can thank Spock for going into heat in 1967 for that.

     However, despite our many rewatches, I’m still unsure what truly draws my Dad to Star Trek. He
was raised by a Christian preacher, he’s a Republican businessman, and he makes slightly problematic jokes (in the same fashion Bones makes fun of Spock’s ears). Still, I can see traces of Star Trek in the way my Dad always tries to better himself, despite being in his fifties, or how he holds himself to the same standards as those around him, all qualities very reminiscent of his white doppelganger, Picard. Maybe it’s because of the way Star Trek presents their “wokeness” as a normality, an impressive feat for the 1960s.
He never even had the chance to be scared away by the leftist ideals perpetrating the franchise.

     Sometimes I think if it weren’t for Star Trek, my Dad wouldn’t nearly be the same kind, loving
man he is now. I don’t think he’d have sat me down and told me that it’s okay if I’m not straight, and had the tact to sit and listen to me lie straight to his face and insist that I am. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable enough to be his blue-haired, liberal, creative writing major daughter if it weren’t for Star Trek’s message of acceptance. So, what draws him to Star Trek? I really don’t know, but I’m glad he loves it and that it’s ours. Maybe he likes the super sick starships or the silly phasers they use instead of guns. Or maybe, he likes it for the same reason as I do, because it's a reminder of home and of a father’s love.
 

     Star Trek is an utter mess and a freak show, just like my mixed-race, politically divided family;
it’s perfect. Star Trek teaches people that there is no one way to be human, and most importantly, it taught my Dad that it’s okay to be bald. So, really, Star Trek gives me the hope to keep going. Despite being subjected to Orange County, living off of peanut butter sandwiches, the shrinking job market, and the fear my mother country could destroy us at any second, I can just look at my Dad and know, everything will turn out alright because if you’ve seen Star Trek, you know that these characters have shitty lives, but they’re still out there, adventuring in the stars.

 
     So, let's “explore strange worlds” and “boldly go where no one has gone before” and all that junk. As long as there’s lumpia, I’ll be there.