The Chinese Lady opens up tomorrow Saturday June 24 at Chance Theater in Anaheim, CA. Afong Moy was the first documented Chinese woman in America. With the idea of promoting Chinese goods, Moy was used as an exotic ornament in a campaign tour across the US. She faced stereotypes, racism, and the embarrassment of having some physicians examine her bare feet in public to satisfy people’s curiosity, all in the name of commerce.

Written by Lloyd Suh, The Chinese Lady will be playing May 24 – June 8, 2025 at Chance Theater.

Tickets: chancetheater.com

Below is an interview with Director Shinshin Yuder Tsai, who is also Chance Theater’s Producing Associate:

Q: How did you come across The Chinese Lady?
I first encountered it through the theatre community’s growing excitement about Lloyd Suh’s work. When I read the play, I was immediately struck by its lyricism, its quiet power, and the way it weaves history with poetry. I didn’t just read it—I felt it. It asked questions I didn’t know I was carrying, and it illuminated the experience of being both seen and unseen in ways that felt deeply personal.

Q: Chinese immigration has had its ups and downs in America, from the 1868 Burlingame-Seward Treaty to the Chinese Exclusion Act. How critical is it to present this play in today’s socio-political environment?
It’s absolutely critical. We’re in a time where conversations about immigration, race, and belonging are louder—and more urgent—than ever. The Chinese Lady gives us a chance to revisit the roots of those conversations through the story of someone who lived it first. It reminds us that the past isn’t just behind us—it’s living in our policies, our perceptions, and our people. The play holds up a mirror and gently asks: “What do we see now?”

Q: How did Afong Moy impact America’s perception of Chinese immigration and immigration in general?
Afong Moy was the first documented Chinese woman in America, and she arrived not as an immigrant seeking a new life, but as a kind of living exhibition. Her presence shaped how Americans viewed Chinese people—through a lens of curiosity, exoticism, and, often, misunderstanding. Though she had little control over the narrative, she became part of a cultural story that influenced immigration perceptions for generations. And even in silence, her existence challenged the notion that America was homogenous.

Q: How much do the new generation of Chinese Americans know about Afong Moy?
Honestly, very little—and that’s part of why this play matters so much. She’s not in our textbooks. She’s rarely in our public memory. Yet her story is foundational. Bringing her voice forward feels like reclaiming something that was lost, not just for Chinese Americans, but for anyone who’s ever wondered why certain people get remembered and others don’t.

Q: What do you think went through Afong Moy’s mind as she cruised the ocean coming to America?
I imagine a mix of wonder and fear. Hope, maybe. Excitement, certainly. But also the ache of leaving behind everything familiar—her language, her community, her sense of self. I think she must have been imagining a world of possibilities, not realizing she was about to become more symbol than person in the eyes of others. It’s that emotional contrast—the dream versus the reality—that makes her story so human.

Q: How do you prepare yourself for the job as a director?
I start with curiosity. I read the play again and again—not just for what’s on the page, but for what’s between the lines. I spend time researching the context, listening to music that evokes the world, and thinking deeply about the emotional journey. But mostly, I prepare by listening—to the playwright, to the actors, to the story itself. Directing isn’t about having all the answers—it’s about asking the right questions and creating space for others to bring their truth.

Q: What’s the most exciting part of being a director?
That electric moment when everything clicks—when the actors, design, and text suddenly align and you feel the story breathe. It’s magic. But I also love the surprises along the way: when a performer discovers something new, or a moment deepens in rehearsal. Being a director is like being a sculptor and a midwife at the same time—you shape the vision, but you’re also helping something be born.

Q: You can feel the good vibes at the Chance Theater every single time. How do you guys achieve this amazing environment?
It’s the people. The Chance is full of heart. There’s a genuine spirit of collaboration, kindness, and care here—not just for the work, but for each other. We don’t just make theater; we build community. That sense of joy and purpose finds its way into every rehearsal, every performance, and every lobby conversation. It’s not something we manufacture—it’s something we nurture.