Fred Chong Rutherford

Speaking / Storytelling

Suicide in the Age of Kung Fu

A story about growing up as an outsider in a town that made that hard, and the day a personal crisis and an unlikely source of comfort arrived within hours of each other. About how a small, unglamorous connection — the kind you wouldn’t think to credit — can be the thing that gets a kid through the worst day of his childhood, and where hope hides when you’re not looking for it.

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Written for a parent worried about their own child — about a family that went quiet after a loss, and the long process of learning to speak again.

Why he stopped celebrating his birthday, and what nearly thirty years of strange, sudden loss taught him about staying alive.

A childhood nighttime visitor, a phrase he didn’t understand until years later, and a piece of his family’s history he didn’t know he was carrying.

Related essaysthe written companion

I watch people around me closely. It’s deep in my nervous system. I’ve rewired so much of my behavior, and keep doing the work via CBT because it works for me. But there’s some things that stay with me. One thing I watch for is displaced anger. Like, someone is upset with person A. But […]

My community, the place where I feel seen and safe, is writers. My alignment, the people I feel challenged and inspired by, who I also spark, are harder to describe. I’m still looking for the words. Peace walkers. Kind talkers. The ones who talk to the wind so much that the idea of threats just […]

Notes on a Play – fred chong rutherford

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