I AM KOREAN AMERICAN

Own Words

I had a whole spiel written out for this section, but I decided to ignore it and speak/write what’s on my mind. This example is just one facet of who I am: a meticulous planner, but will wing it at the last minute and go with the flow. Here it goes:

Like many other Korean Americans, I was born and raised in the States (Wuddup East Coast!). My parents and sister came here in 1983 for Dad’s masters degree. After graduating from Iowa State (yep, Iowa), they packed up and left for New York City, where we’ve stayed ever since. I didn’t even know they lived in Iowa until I was seven, when I saw a picture of my sister in a cornfield and thought it was taken at the local botanical garden. Talk about surprises.

Growing up in Flushing, in a diverse neighborhood in the most diverse county in the U.S., was such a blessing, but also very sobering. I either I felt like I belonged, or I didn’t. Of course, my parents instilled the Korean pride in me. In school, my peers and I were very aware of race and class even back then. We proudly identified ourselves as Chinese, Indian, Bengali, Korean, Pakistani, Filipino, Colombian, Ecuadorian, Nigerian–the list was endless as we flaunted our heritages. Yet, when I would head home, my Flushing Chinatown neighborhood would have people coming up to me, speaking in Mandarin or Cantonese, falsely affirming their belief that I was one of “them.” Meanwhile I was the target of being called “whitewashed” and “not really Korean” by my Korean peers simply because I didn’t speak Korean to other Korean people or hung out with other Koreans. My heritage alone was not enough to prove my Korean-ness. Needless to say, I grew up with a lot of friends who were ! everything but Korean throughout my school years. I was never ashamed of my Korean roots, but was resentful and hurt at the flack I received, which paradoxically made me push the Korean culture away and gain knowledge of everyone else’s but my own.

After a trip to Seoul and Busan with mom two summers ago (where I finally got to ride a plane and meet my grandmothers/extended family members for the first time), I wanted to reconnect with the culture I had scorned vis-a-vis those I encountered. College was the way to go, and I took two semesters of elementary Korean freshman year at Cornell. It was the best decision of my life, as it allowed me to rebuild the first language I had lost when I was six (this after a speech delay where I didn’t even speak until I was four).

I also joined a samulnori group, Shimtah, freshman year, with mixed results. While I loved playing the drums and learning the patterns, I fell into the trap again: I wasn’t deemed Korean enough, this time by Korean international students who came straight from Korea to the States. After a semester, I quit the group in disgust at the exclusive nature of the group and its hierarchy while they remained distrustful of me because I didn’t speak Korean nor did I join them every single weekend for dinner, which I found stifling and boring.

It was also at Cornell where I encountered people who immediately think of Koreans and in general, those of Asian descent, as “foreigners.” I’ve had students show their true colors to me, wanting so badly for me fulfill the stereotypes they have absorbed only to be left frustrated and confused because I do not satisfy their docile, hypersexualized, and/or little girl fantasies. If not the double-minority stereotype, then there are folks who want to, and would like to, make generalizations about Asians and Asian Americans only to have them shot down. Case in point: I was painting a flower pot as a dorm activity with one of my friends, while a couple of other people watched. This one dude had the nerve to ask out loud, “Do all Asians like to plant things?” Thanks, mang.

This is not to say that college is all gloom and doom, as Cornell is also where I have learned so much about my Korean American heritage. Through the Asian Studies and Asian American Studies Department, and the Korean American Students Association, I know there are those just like me where we can truly empathize with our life experiences as second-generation Korean Americans. Just recently, I have also gotten involved in the Asian Pacific American movement as well, both on-campus and outside, securing rights and forging an identity that I realize has been mine all along not only as a Korean American, but an Asian American, too. Nobody can take my identities away from me.

Despite my strong Korean nationalism, I am also a defender of the human spirit. I don’t care if you’re Latino or Middle Eastern or purple or black. If you’re cool in my book, that’s regardless of what you are. As for myself? I love cats, dogs, the subway, maps, traveling, jogging. I have a weakness for chocolate, french fries, and good seafood. I can talk about history (especially art history, which is my major– the other being sociology) until I’m blue in the face. I adore children’s books and love to take pictures. I am currently in my sports mojo with the World Cup-NBA Finals-baseball season trifecta and am sad that I can’t watch the World Cup because I have work. I still need to learn how to ride a bike and drive a car, but maybe not simultaneously. I admit to being a nostalgic person, but also very matter-of-fact as well. I am a sentimentalist and pack rat, but I am also quick to remove things if I think it wastes space. I love the water and can be at the beach all day! . I’ve only been on one rollercoaster thus far in my lifetime because I was a big fraidy cat back in the day. Now I really want to ride the Kingda Ka at Six Flags.

So it goes. The idealist in me hopes that someday, my ethnic and racial identity should not contribute heavily as to who I am but I know that’s quite a while to go. Hopefully, it is my (our) generation that can undo what has been imposed on us for decades without losing ourselves.

In the end, who are we but to be human?