BY JYOTHSNA HEGDE
Atlanta, GA, May 7, 2025: In a city as diverse and dynamic as Atlanta, local Asian American businesses have become powerful hubs for cultural exchange, community building, and economic vitality. From restaurants to media platforms, these businesses serve not only as places of commerce but also as spaces where heritage is preserved, stories are shared, and bridges are built across cultures. That role took center stage at a panel titled “Building Community Hubs: The Vital Role of Local Atlanta Businesses in Asian American Exchange,” on May 3 at the Emory University Goizueta Business School, where entrepreneurs, creatives, and community leaders illuminated how their work is shaping the future of cultural identity and inclusion in the South.
Moderator Reshma Shah opened with a personal reflection on growing up in 1960s America, where Indian food was scarce and cultural connection often felt out of reach. Her mother’s solution—hosting Indian cooking classes—planted the seeds for what we now recognize as community-led cultural exchange. “Food has always been a bridge to understanding and connection,” Shah said, setting the tone for a conversation rooted in pride and purpose.
Panelists Parthiv Parekh, Founder and Editor, Khabar Magazine, Diana Bui, BOD, WeLoveBuhi, and Asha Gomez, Local Restaurateur and Author, representing diverse Asian American backgrounds, shared how small businesses have evolved into cultural cornerstones.
“A plate of food tells a story. It invites strangers to become friends,” Gomez remarked, underscoring the idea that local businesses serve as platforms for dialogue and celebration. These establishments not only preserve heritage but actively engage the broader public, encouraging meaningful cross-cultural exchange.
A central and resounding theme was agency—the urgent, vital need for Asian Americans to boldly claim their space in the public and professional arenas. In an era when representation is still often hard-won, this message carried both weight and inspiration.
Parthiv Parekh recounted the humble origins of Khabar Magazine, a now-thriving monthly publication that began as a side hustle among friends in the early 1990s.
“It all started over spicy food and cold beer at the $3 Café in Marietta,” Parekh recalled with a smile. “We were in our twenties, full of ideas, and none of us had much money—or much to lose.”
What began as a simple coupon mailer for Indian businesses in metro Atlanta eventually grew into a robust print magazine that today reaches over 20,000 households across Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, and South Carolina.
“In a time when people say print is dead, we’ve seen nothing but strength,” Parekh said. “One issue of our magazine, I estimate, probably stirs up millions of dollars in business activity.”
More than just ads, Khabar became a trusted resource for the South Asian diaspora. Parekh emphasized the magazine’s dual identity—as both a cultural platform and a business driver.
“In mainstream media, ads are often just noise,” he explained. “But for our community, our advertisements are like the Yellow Pages. People rely on them for services, from restaurants to real estate.”
“We didn’t have media training. We just learned as we went,” Parekh noted. “When we realized people wanted local event coverage, we started a community calendar. When they needed to hire nannies or sell motels, we launched classifieds.”
He added, “Every new section came from a genuine need. It all happened organically.”
Over time, Khabar began attracting high-profile interviews, including Indian-American trailblazers and Bollywood celebrities. The magazine’s influence became cultural as well as commercial.
“We were the only publication of our kind for a long time,” said Parekh. “And you don’t keep advertising month after month unless it’s working. So we knew we were doing something right.”
Over the years, Khabar has stood as more than a magazine—a mirror reflecting both the struggles and triumphs of a dynamic, multifaceted community. In Parekh’s telling, the magazine’s journey is not just about media, but about movement—about claiming narrative power and redefining belonging on one’s own terms.
Diana Bui, board member of WeLoveBuHi—an organization named after the vibrant Buford Highway Corridor—spoke about preserving the area’s rich multicultural identity.
“I was born and raised in Doraville,” she shared. “My parents settled here in the 1980s, like many immigrants and refugees looking for safety and opportunity.”
Back then, she recalled, access to cultural essentials like Vietnamese herbs or South Asian spices required long drives to distant neighborhoods. “Now, Buford Highway has everything,” she said proudly. “It’s become the ‘International Corridor of the Southeast.’”
WeLoveBuHi began as a storytelling initiative, led by founder Marian Liou, to document immigrant businesses along the corridor. Today, the organization runs multiple programs in art, oral history, youth education, food security, and business support.
“We realized early on that there weren’t murals or sculptures reflecting our communities,” she said. “So we partnered with local artists and city officials to change that.”
A major part of WeLoveBuHi’s mission is helping immigrant-owned businesses navigate complex regulatory systems. A cornerstone of that effort is their Resource Guide, created after a 2012 survey with Emory University revealed the obstacles small business owners faced.
“There were resources out there—from city and county programs to the SBA,” she explained. “But our community didn’t know how to access them. Language, trust, and cultural barriers got in the way.”
The Resource Guide demystifies those processes, offering help with permits, licenses, and business planning. Currently in English, the organization plans to translate it into multiple languages.
“We’ve seen business owners grow more confident and better prepared,” she said. “And that’s what it’s all about—giving them the tools to thrive.”
What began as a sensory sanctuary—a spa where each experience was meant to “touch all five senses”—unexpectedly blossomed into a culinary movement that helped reshape Atlanta palate’s understanding of Indian cuisine, Gomez highlighted.
“I fell into the food world about a decade ago,” said the Gomez, whose journey has taken her from luxury spa treatments to James Beard nominations. “I had designed a high-end spa, and inside it was a kitchen. At the end of every treatment, guests were served a curated vegetarian meal. It was about nourishing the soul as well as the body.”
By 2007, her venture had become wildly successful. But the 2008 economic crash forced her to shut it down.
“I had just adopted my son,” she recalled. “I told myself I’d take some time off, enjoy being a new parent. But our guests kept asking where they could find my food—not where I was working next, but where they could eat next.”
To her surprise, that demand birthed something new: a supper club hosted out of her own home.
“My house was big enough to seat 10 or 20 people around a table,” she said. “I thought I’d do one or two dinners and be done. But word spread. Eventually, I was cooking in downtown Macy’s, serving 200 people sitting cross-legged on the floor, eating off banana leaves.”
It was then she realized there was a hunger—not just for Indian food, but for the real stories of regional Indian cuisine.
“At the time, every Indian restaurant had the same 9 to 12 dishes—chicken tikka, saag paneer, butter chicken,” she said. “But India is not a monolith. I come from a fishing village in southern India. My community eats pork. We eat beef. We’re Catholic. That diversity was missing.”
“People would say, ‘I’ve never heard of this dish!’ But for me, it was just home food.”
She launched Cardamom Hill, a fine-dining Indian restaurant. In its first year, it earned a James Beard nomination for Best New Restaurant.
“I think it happened because there was a real absence of chefs showcasing regional Indian cuisine with pride,” she explained. “The landscape has changed now, and I’m so grateful for that.”
“The biggest challenge was getting American diners to think of ethnic food—especially Indian food—as worthy of a fine-dining price point,” she said. “How do you get people to go from paying $9.99 at a buffet to $100 for a prix fixe?”
For her, the answer was sourcing and storytelling.
“I knew my beef farmer. I knew who raised my chickens. I was buying kingfish from the Gulf. When you can tell that story on the plate, the perceived value changes. People start to get it.”
She credits the chefs before her, many of whom “paved the path” but lacked the platform or visibility to be heard.
“Earlier, there was a language barrier. We didn’t know how to tell our stories. Or maybe we didn’t feel proud enough to,” she said. “By the time I stepped up, I was like, ‘Yeah, I’m from India. I’m from the southern coast. This is how we eat.'”
Her first cookbook, My Two Souths, explored the unique culinary overlap between southern India and the American South.
“I always tell people: what I put on a plate is not fusion, it’s the evolution of my story,” she explained. “It’s what happens when you’ve lived in two southern places in the world that grow the same produce.” For example, she pairs her mother’s fried chicken with cornbread waffles, then drizzles it with jaggery-spiced syrup. “It’s not about taking away from either cuisine,” she said. “It’s about letting them shine together.”
Despite acclaim, she found herself exhausted by the demands of the restaurant business.
“It’s brutal—long hours, no holidays, weekends gone,” she admitted. “I had a young child, and I wanted to be present.” Because she didn’t come from a traditional culinary background, she allowed herself to think outside the box. “I created a business called The Spicespoon,” she said. “It was high-end luxury catering, but only for corporate and private fine dining. It did incredibly well, and I sold it two years ago.”
Now living in the suburbs, she’s developing a similar model—one still rooted in storytelling, heritage, and integrity. “It’s Not Just About the Food,”, for Gomez, every plate is personal.
“What you see on that plate is the story of my life,” she said. “It’s the journey of a woman, a mother, a daughter of two Souths—told one course at a time.” She added, “And I stand on the shoulders of so many chefs who came before me, who made it possible for someone like me to be seen, heard, and celebrated.”
The conversation also addressed the challenges local businesses face, especially during crises like the COVID-19 pandemic. Panelists discussed the lack of access to federal relief programs for immigrant-owned businesses, and how community networks stepped in to fill those gaps—highlighting once again the essential role local institutions play in both economic survival and emotional support.
Generational shifts were another focal point. Reshma described how her son now confidently brings Indian food to school, a far cry from her own childhood embarrassment. “The next generation’s voices will be stronger,” Parekh noted, adding that his son is the same way, pointing to a more inclusive and empowered future where cultural identity is not hidden but celebrated.
Racism and bias were candidly discussed. Panelists shared incidents involving discrimination, emphasizing the continued need for strength and solidarity. Panelists agreed that creating community hubs means building safe, proud spaces for cultural expression—even when faced with adversity.
The panel concluded with a powerful reflection from a student attendee who expressed gratitude for the Khabar’s impact: “I’ve seen your work in my grandparents’ home. I’m proud to be here.” This moment captured the essence of the discussion: how local Asian American businesses don’t just serve customers—they build intergenerational bridges and cultural legacies.
Together, the panel showcased ways in which Atlanta’s Asian American entrepreneurs are building more than businesses, creating vibrant spaces of belonging, cultural exchange, and visibility. From bustling kitchens to dynamic newsrooms, these community anchors are redefining what it means to be seen, heard, and valued in a truly multicultural city.
