New York Grandmas

Photos & Text by Jennifer Lee

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Helena, 2019. Photo by Jennifer Lee.
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Sylvia, 2019. Photo by Jennifer Lee.
The five photographs are a part of a series that I had taken of my two great-aunts—my Halmonis—in May and November 2019. I wanted to intimately capture their experience as elderly, independent Korean women living in New York City.

My Halmonis often told me stories about their early days of immigrating to the United States from South Korea as younger, ambitious women. For over 40 years, the sisters heavily relied on each other for companionship and support while navigating and strategizing how they’d fulfill their tasks for the day. They’d swiftly and confidently march the streets of New York City; Helena was always far ahead of Sylvia. I was bemused by how small, yet mighty, they were on the busy and crowded avenues, with people stepping out of their paths and respecting their authoritative ways. Their jaywalking was second nature, a reflection of them being true New Yorkers. Custodians, store keepers, and community members recognized them on the street and called them “The Sisters,” sometimes “The Twins,” even though they were two years apart.
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New York Grandmas, 2019. Photo by Jennifer Lee.
I often think of their wild ways of transporting plastic containers to various buffets and fast-food restaurants around the city, always eating half of their meal and packaging the rest to eat later. They’d often whisper and bicker in Korean about which spare napkins, plastic cutlery, empty coffee cups, or condiments to take back home with them.

I found comfort in settling into their well sat-in couch, which was covered in a variety of crocheted blankets, while we cycled through local newscasts or a Korean cable show. Even though they had separate apartments in the same building, my Halmonis would share one of their one-bedroom apartments, stocked with remnants of the past and what they had collected from their day-to-day excursions. They didn’t hesitate to shower me with gifts of random items from around their apartment, such as old clothes like a puffy pink candy-striped jacket or a purple knit vest. Of course, I’d take these items with a lot of gratitude.

I often look to my Halmonis to remind myself how to get through and conquer the day. If I catch myself feeling uncertain, I’d straighten up and hold my head high, channeling my Halmonis.
My Halmoni Helena passed away in late 2020, at the age of 99.
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Sylvia, 2019. Photo by Jennifer Lee.
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New York Grandmas, 2019. Photo by Jennifer Lee.
Jennifer Lee is a Toronto-based photographer. With a focus on candid and street photography, her practice becomes a storytelling tool and a quiet meditation on our changing landscapes and how our communities interact in these spaces. Her more personal and ongoing work is documenting her family and archiving her parents' old family photographs from Korea.​