How the Creator of “Beef” Graduated from Petty Feuds to Class Warfare
You changed your name professionally in 2018 or 2019. What led to that decision, and why did you put your last name first?
It actually might have been earlier, because I did it on “Tuca & Bertie.” I was born in Korea, went to elementary school there, then moved to Minnesota [for sixth grade]. And every single day, taking attendance was a nightmare, because the teacher would add new consonants to the name that did not exist. And so, one day, without telling anybody, I was staring at a piece of homework and wrote “Sonny,” and I told everyone I go by Sonny now. It fit my personality, I think.
How so?
Definitely a people pleaser. And I feel like my noonchi [a Korean concept for interpersonal observation] is really strong. So when you have that strong self-awareness, you’re always trying to make the situation O.K.
When I came up, the writing rooms were different and I was usually the only person of color on staff. You get these subtle digs your whole career—some not so subtle. One time on a show, I went to the bathroom and came back and everyone was laughing, and they told me to check my e-mail. So I opened my e-mail and one of the writers had put two chopsticks as buck teeth, wore a straw hat, and did slanty eyes, and they took a photo of it and sent it to me, apropos of nothing.
What’s so funny about that?
Exactly. In the moment, I just laughed it off. But I have that photo saved as a favorite in my phone, and I’ve stared at it a lot to motivate myself. If I hit a writer’s block, I push through it—I just bring up that photo.
Oh, wow, you’re sick. [Laughs.]
[Laughs.] Well, it’s quite motivating, because I keep wanting to go back to younger me and be, like, Why don’t you have a backbone? Cut to years later, I was working on “Tuca & Bertie.” I was at my local coffee shop, and they call out the name on the receipt when your order’s ready.
It was like a flashback to childhood, where they’d be, like, “Siong Ga Chin Lee.” I heard two thirtysomething-year-old white women laughing, and I literally cowered. [He rounds his back to demonstrate.] I got home, and I felt horrible that my default state is to crouch. So I asked Lisa Hanawalt, the showrunner of “Tuca & Bertie,” can I change my credit to my Korean name? And do you mind if I put the last name first, because that’s how it was meant to be said? She said, absolutely.
I was thinking, when I hear “Director Bong Joon-ho” or “Director Park Chan-wook,” I feel proud. Those names sound cool, and it’s because they are making the coolest stuff of all time. And I thought, if more Koreans went by our given Korean names and just made cool stuff, maybe that stigma [against Asian names] would change.
How often do you get called Lee?
I get called Lee or Mr. Jin all the time, so it’s led to much confusion. But my mom and dad were really happy—they were proud to see the name that they had given me. My mom always told me growing up that she put a lot of thought into the name Sung Jin. The Chinese characters that the Korean is based on loosely mean “shaking saint,” because she wanted me to be a saint who shakes the world.
What led you to TV writing? And when you started, did you feel like you had to choose between comedy and drama?
I was an econ major. I went to the University of Pennsylvania, and, senior year, I decided to abandon it because I couldn’t stomach it. My poor parents, spending a fortune on an Ivy League education! I moved to New York with no plan. I packed all my things into a Honda CR-V and stayed at my friend’s house. I thought, just to play it safe, I’m gonna cover all my belongings with clothes to hide my important things. And when I woke up, everything I owned had been stolen. To this day, I don’t have my diploma because that was stolen.
