A framed picture of Tea Base’s team and community members at their event at The Gladstone Hotel in early January, sits next to a pot and two teapots on Tea Base’s counter in Chinatown, Toronto. (CanCulture/Adele Lukusa)
By Adele Lukusa
The moment I stepped into Tea Base, Hannia Cheng, one of three masterminds and “co-parents” of the space, yelled “Shoes off!”
It’s the first time I’ve visited where it’s been so quiet. Their popular Mahjong Mondays have lulled to an end, which leaves only a few members left in the space. Like always, I look around for new additions to the space.
“Community not condos!” and “Chinatown is not for sale!”, written in both English and Chinese on cardboard signs sit on top of a TV right next to a new chest filled to the brim with zines, comics, books and more donated for their new Pan-Asian library.
Unlike most community art spaces, Tea Base on Spadina Avenue in Toronto majors in maximalism, consistently building alongside their community of young artists and professionals. At first, their location was just a few tables and chairs passed on from the store that closed before them. With more members comes more makeshift interior designing, honing in on their particular brand of cozy by adding couches in addition to extra chairs and patterned rugs, without sacrificing personality.
From the head of a Chinese lion costume that sits on top of some boxes, to the cardboard cutouts of artist Ness Lee’s nude woman on the floor, leaning on their main counter. Tea Base dots their space with mementos of their community with framed pictures and trinkets galore. It’s an ode to the intergenerational Pan-Asian artists that make up their community.
“People don’t just come here to be a participant, people come here to actually contribute to the space,” said Cheng. “That’s why I really do say that we’re a commercial living room. People just let us babysit their stuff.”
On a dish sits a few handmade zines about Tea Base next to a handful of pins with cartoons made by community member Chris Carriere in Chinatown, Toronto. (CanCulture/Adele Lukusa)
People are willing to not only donate their art, but they are also willing to follow Tea Base wherever they go. Whether it’s for events hosted at The Gladstone Hotel, the AGO, or at their home base on the basement floor of Chinatown Centre — folks show up and show out.
Sowing seeds in Chinatown
Two summers ago, the founders and organizers of Tea Base came together at Chinatown Centre and decided to start a garden.
This act sowed the seeds of what we call Tea Base today. They committed to this garden, taking shifts to water and nurture their plants. They began a slow but crucial relationship between Tea Base and the people of Chinatown. That grew alongside a metaphorical garden, of intergenerational Asian, racialized folks — many of who identify within the LGBTQ2S+ community.
There’s a wonderful charm to Tea Base, and it seems to be inherited by those who have created it, Cheng being one of the key elements. They’re quite the character on their own, humble, charismatic and larger than life. Whether it’s through singing along to songs by friends Eyeda Sophia and Maxhole or classics by Lauryn Hill, or shouting into their newly gifted megaphone. It’s almost contagious.
The Teabase Community
“It’s always evolving,” said Chris Carriere, a community member who found Tea Base through a school placement.
“We’re always trying to be a space that can change, that can transform, you know?” Carriere explained. “We’re not stuck in our ways.”
“There’s a lot of potential for real long-lasting community building,” Florence Yee, project coordinator and “co-parent” of Tea Base.
In January, Tea Base celebrated its first year in Chinatown by raising 90% of the necessary funds to keep their doors open and follow through with new programs, like language classes exclusively for those within the Asian diaspora who’ve lost their mother tongue.
From the living room floor, to the activist-filled streets
Artist and community member, Arezu Salamzadeh, reminds me that Tea Base is more than a culture and arts space — it’s also ground for serious activist work.
In the past year, Tea Base has collaborated with Friends of Chinatown Toronto (FOCT) and participated in the Coast to Coast Chinatowns Against Displacement: Week of Action, using their platform in order to fight against the gentrification of Chinatown in Toronto and across North America.
Over a TV lies a cardboard sign with the words “Chinatown is not for sale” written in English and Chinese at Tea Base located in Chinatown, Toronto. (CanCulture/Adele Lukusa)
“I think we all feel like what we do is meaningful,” she said. “But when it comes to people that really kind of hold the political and financial power in the city, I don’t think that the things that we’re looking at are necessarily on their radar.”
In spite of everything, Cheng is ready for whatever surprises the future brings. Impermanence is just part of organizing and placemaking, especially when spaces made by and for queer people of colour are far and few between.
“I don’t need Tea Base to be open 20 years from now,” they said. “For me, it’s about making sure people know that they can also do it.”
“This is the politicized art space that I wished for when I was younger, especially as an Asian kid who never wanted to be Asian — but in a less capitalistic way than our parents would have taught us,” said Cheng.
