Jessica F. Simmons

It’s 7 p.m. in Swain Hall when Ethan Kim, a UNC senior, made his way into the showroom where the residue of the previous show stood. 

Stage lights of pink, blue and purple slowly found their way to pink, blue and red – a subtle change but necessary in order to prepare for his extended one-man show and senior honors thesis, “The Dishwasher.” 

“The Dishwasher” is a three-part dramedy covering the life of Kim’s parents and himself. What started as a two-night show found its moment to shine again as a third night, a week later, due to popularity. 

Kim said while the show is funny and contains comedic elements from personal stories of using a dishwasher for the first time to wash his clothes, it offers more serious stories such as sharing what it’s like to live in America as immigrants through the lenses of his mother and father. He also said the show answers questions about why Asian people do not use dishwashers.

“At the crux of it, a lot of it answers a deeper question about why the idea of people of color, specifically immigrants, and Asian immigrants can wash the dishes. And the idea of doing work with your own hands, what it means to be an immigrant, what it means to be a person of color in America,” Kim said earlier that day. “And that pride of feeling like everything that you have to do, you have to do it yourself.”

In the stageroom, a single whiteboard from the previous show was rolled backstage. The projections on the white sheet covering the walls of the showroom changed to a screen of white dishwasher. The dishwasher stood in front of a yellow background with a shadow of a preacher and a person scrubbing the floor.

On the dishwasher lay a microphone and black scribbles of Korean characters that translate to “soap,” “sponge” and “scrub” covered its exterior. 

“Where does this go?,” someone asked Kim, struggling to carry a white wooden box to the stage. Kim’s mentor and theater director Joseph Megel is quick to answer.

“Just take the lighter one,” Megel said. Kim pointed to where the box should’ve been and the box found its placed stage right.

“I would help but my eye, you know?” Kim said sheepishly while scratching the back of his head.

For the audience, the back of Kim’s show program would give insight to his eye injury through a note of gratitude.

“If you’re reading this, I just want to say thank you for coming. I cannot express how much your support means to me…Also, I literally cannot see out of my right eye so please forgive me if it looks like I’m staring at you.” And on its own line, the final words of the program would read “The show must go on.”

An accident at the gym during the weekend of his first show would be the culprit of his eye injury, Kim would later explain in the evening. He said it happened while he used one of the gym’s resistance bands.

“And I let go and it was just so dumb. It was such a dumb reason – it popped right into my eye,” he said. “It was really bad because it directly hit my retina. And so, yeah, I’ve been dealing with some issues then.”

Kim said during his second night, he wasn’t supposed to move very much.

“I wasn’t supposed to jump around too much. But as you’ll see, I mean – hopefully not a huge spoiler – but I do move around a bit,” he said.

Soon, five other white wooden boxes joined the first on different glow-in-the-dark tape strips across the floor. One upstage, two together downstage left and two together upstage right.

Following the boxes, stage helpers and other last-minute-appointed volunteers placed the show’s props: a black pen, torn navy blue UNC t-shirt, a black Macbook, a can of white claw and a small white trashcan.

In the show, the boxes will become something different with the help of projections – Christmas presents that will turn into Pocky and a SAT practice book; and a dishwasher. 

“I think everything should be on the right block,” Kim said looking across the floor. “But we can check the Christmas one then the dishwasher to be sure.”

Projection lights of the Christmas present shined onto the white box that stayed stage right, but just a bit off on the side. Bits of the present light bled onto the floor. Kim pushed the box forward and a little bit to the left. The present sat perfectly perched onto its wooden white exterior.

“Just crossing my fingers not everyone comes,” Megel said walking by with a theater chair from backstage.

“You wishin’ that upon me bro?” Kim said with a cheeky grin.  

Megel placed the chair at the edge of the stage near the front row.

“You don’t want everyone to come,” Megel countered, throwing his arms out in front of him.  

Megel made a good point. For 140 people who RSVP’d, how were they going to fit in the room that held only 64 chairs?  

“When do we open the house?” Kim asked.

“I would like to open the house at 7:30.” Megel answered.

“Let me just go check one more thing today. Do you need anything else for me?” Kim said. Megel shook his head no. “Then I’m gonna head back to the green room in a second.”

Through tall black double doors backstage, Kim pushed through into the workshop covered with various sizes of wooden plank. To the right stood a brown wooden door to which Kim headed toward and reached for the golden doorknob into the dimly-lit and hot greenroom.

“Yeah it’s pretty warm,” Kim said, chuckling to my sudden face change due to the temperature. “I think this room is dependent on the temperature of the day. Yeah, there’s no ventilation here, but in the theater.”

He found a seat on one of the two black futons that laid in front of a lavender wall.

Kim said each time before he gets on stage, whether it be for his stand-up comedy or acting, he often prays.

“I’m not super religious,” Kim said. “I don’t know if you are or not, but yeah, I’m pretty grounded in my faith in terms of what I believe and so for every show, I’ll pray and just work on breathing.”

His father is a pastor – which would explain the design choice of the shadowy preacher figure. His mother would represent the scrubber. 

Kim said to help him prepare for shows, he would drink hot water at home – sometimes with ginger lemon, and that he has never been nervous performing because he’s been doing this since he was a kid.

“I think like, five minutes before, I’ll go out and I always have to, like use the restroom right before just like the nerves and the restrooms are out there,” Kim said, pointing towards the entrance. “…But I can hear people chattering and I think that’s when it starts to kick in. Or it’s like, ‘Oh, shoot. I gotta go up and I gotta do a whole hour of this, you know, performance.’ So yeah, I’m really excited.”

Kim started to grin to himself. He seemed proud of what he is accomplishing so far. By 7:30 p.m. Kim asked for space and so the next location became the lobby since doors to the show opened in 15 minutes. 

The black backstage door to the not-so-greenroom closed behind. 

In the lobby, lights were dimmer, various flyers of future and past shows were thumbtacked on brown bulletin boards that covered the walls. A faded pink couch mirrored the wall that held the building’s entrance. Across the couch sat a foldable table covered with a yellow tablecloth, an RSVP list on a clipboard, a donation jar and two stacks of one-page “The Dishwasher” programs. 

Along with the note of gratitude, revealed Kim’s sponsors, honors thesis committee, production team and a thank you note for his team and mentor, Megel.

After reading the program, laughter took me out of my trance.

“Do you have a reservation?” Megel joked in the lobby to the first two patrons who arrived. One held a Walmart bag of mini cupcakes. The two were Kim’s parents.

Minutes later, they found their way into the theater room. Before the doors opened, not many had shown their faces yet. 

Once I made it back into the room the staff created, my eyes locked on Kim’s parents who sat in the back to the left.

Working up the courage to speak to them, I walked up and introduced myself.

“Are you a friend of Ethan?” Kim’s father asked me. I told him no and that just about an hour ago, was the first time we’ve seen each other in person.

“Today is his birthday,” his mother blurted out in excitement. Then Peter and Kyung-Ae couldn’t help but gush about their son and how proud they are of him. Kim is now 22 years old and the cupcakes were for his surprise party after the show – a family tradition Kim used to hate at a time in his life, but now is appreciative of.  

“5:02. Eastern standard time. 4:02. Central,” Peter said to me while Kyung-Ae laughed at him. I couldn’t decipher the code so she explained what the numbers meant.

“He was born in the Chicago area and so it was 4:02 on 4/02,” she said.⁶⁸ 

A couple more laughs were shared and I soon found myself at my own seat, in the second row, parallel to the stage.

Doors opened at 7:45 p.m. and over 60 students, faculty and staff found their seats, eyes glued to the projection, “The Dishwasher” in all caps. 

By 8 p.m., pink, blue and red lights dimmed and a single white spotlight shined in the center of the room. Megel walked from the lobby to the light.

“This has been an extraordinary journey. I’ve been working with Ethan for a couple of years, a number of courses were parts of this,” Megel said, throwing his arms out emphasizing the stage design.

“This piece got developed and then kept on being developed and we decided that he’d want to do it as a performance effort as an honors thesis,” Megel said. “So we work this year including advanced projects and performance studies. And this is the result. So thank you for being here and being a part of that.”

The audience applauded and Megel walked off the stage. 

And with just seven minutes after 8 p.m., “Tesla” by Lil Yachty blared through the speakers and Kim, dressed in black sweats, t-shirt and pink sneakers, danced his way onto the stage.