New York, NY
I sat and stared at a blank document for three weeks before sitting down to write this. What can I say about being Korean American? Barely anything. Race isn’t something I’ve ever defined myself by. I was adopted into a mixed family with two kids where no one is related by blood. We were America’s miniature melting pot. Like most times in my life, I didn’t feel Korean enough to contribute to this. I’m proud, I’m just not very loud.
Don’t be fooled by the last name, I am Korean by birth. It’s confusing to meet a Korean Wong, but that’s what happens when a Chinese/German family adopts two Korean babies. There are days I feel less Asian than others, being 5’7” and working in the arts. But then there are days I make one wrong turn in my car and I feel like there is a blinking neon sign above me that says “Asian.” In the end, I got my fair share of Asian slurs thrown at me growing up in Minnesota to feel like I’ve earned being Korean.
I’m an art director by trade, but a comedian at heart. I won’t say I’ll do anything for a laugh, but I’ll do most things. Until college I was a competitive figure skater. I would have auditioned for Disney on Ice, but I realized they already had about 90 Mulans at their disposal. Besides physically being Korean, figure skating was probably the most Asian thing I’ve done with my life.
As for now I’m not exactly sure what I want to do when I grow up, but I’m sure this path is taking me somewhere. You can follow me sorting out my life-long identity crisis at mightbewong.blogspot.com
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