Being Korean-American

Back in 1981, when I was nine. I was given a book about Americans by my parents, I believe. I saw the cover of the book with the blonde American dad, smiling. The mother was very pretty. The kids looked happy and beautiful. I think what I felt was envy, but it made me deeply happy inside. I was going to move to America where these people lived. It felt like a dream, almost like heaven, the place called America.

When I landed in Philadelphia, I had the same feeling. The lights of the city were stars that had fallen from the sky. For a few months, I lived in my uncle's house, which was unimaginably big and grand. It all seemed like an impossible dream. After a few months, our family moved to a low-priced apartment complex. I was a little bit disappointed, but things were still incredible and dreamy.

I remember a blonde, blue-eyed girl who was in my class. I really thought she was some kind of angel. That's how she appeared to me. I could not believe she was human. All the other kids were very nice to me. I felt like a guest at a party thrown for me. It was so nice of them.

I think that the first thing I wanted to do was wash myself of my skin and become like them, like the Americans. Of course I mean white Americans. One day, the teacher asked the us students to draw our faces. She gave us crayons. I drew myself as a Caucasian. The student next to me took a crayon and scratched over my drawing. I was about to cry. I wanted so much to be white. I didn't want to be Korean.

That's when I awakened from the dream. I wasn't an American. I wasn't like them. It just seemed like a great identity to escape into. Now, I look at the advertisements into shopping malls and catalogues. It is still a world that reflects a mainly white culture. I go to a church in which there is a groupful of Asians and blacks. When I hear Asian comedians or Asian actors, I can't stop sensing a feeling of shame in their hypenated identity. Also, I am clearly aware that it is the most powerful nations that are at the top of the hypenated identities. Now, I choose to call myself a Korean-American because I am not American... no one would see me as an American... and I am not Korean since I've rejected the cultural values of Korea.

I think it was through the Korean Christian Church that I was able to find my Korean-American identity. Many Koreans men found political power by becoming deacons. Many Koreans found a society in America outside of the mainstream. Whereas at school, a cute young Korean girl might not attract much attention. Within the Korean-American society, she became a Korean American Princess. A Korean who was accepted at Harvard or Yale was treated almost like royalty. My thing was my sense of humor. I was funny. I was funny in Korea, but I was also funny in America. I was also considered cute. So I found a spot in Korean-American society.