to all my future boss ladies
act I. bravery.
consider my grandmother,
who was born in 1934, when Seoul was still just Korea,
before the division of North and South.
to this day, her most precious memory is the image
of her father asking her to deliver a bottle of oil to a customer
it was summer.
on her way, she distracted herself with beautiful treats at the streets
sweets, hats, colorful skins, all sorts of odd things,
she was seven
she did not notice she came home with an empty bottle.
poor daughter.
last memory of her father was an empty bottle.
her father passed away, and then her mother.
my grandmother chose to keep the memory of how proud
she felt of being the receiver of such an important task.
she raised her brother and sisters through Japanese occupation,
Korean wars, and poverty and diseases.
she never had time to have any internal battle.
consider my grandmother,
who guided her five children and her husband
to the other side of the world.
who crossed two oceans and three continents
to South America,
and fed seven mouths without speaking the language
of that new country full of baggages,
opened a shop, sold dollar, bought dollar, lent money
to so many fellow immigrants.
she should be a CEO or a founder
she was not only the map of the entire family
my grandmother was a destination.
consider my grandmother,
her North Korean husband,
her four daughters,
a paralympic athlete son
with two olympic medals.
six grandchildren and five great grandchildren.
she’s past eighty
and still walks twice as fast as I do,
has three times my sanity.
consider my grandmother
her lesson was not resiliency
or pride honor strength resistance.
she taught me about recreating yourself,
and giving meaning to other people’s existence.
I consider my grandmother
and never think about the empty bottle
but her courage in the path she’s taken.
becoming a real hero, my role model.
act II. kindness.
consider myself
and other immigrants daughters,
who never thought the word boss would apply to them
never pictured anyone like them with titles like
leader frontrunner chief master
only labels with foreign definition
that never meant anything to someone on their condition.
girls who felt awkward the first time
they thought about running for class rep
and still feel the twinge when they are asked to speak up.
and at the sight of a room full of suited men, cringe.
who was taught to obey, to be silent sit still
to say yes to everyone
and no to every possibility.
struggled to master free thinking and free will.
consider myself
and other immigrants daughters,
who fail to fail, they fail to try,
fixated with the image of perfection.
who were never allowed to take a contrarian step.
and explored their skin body and hair
to show some signs of distinction.
who contained an ocean of wisdom
but was limited to produce puddles.
what if glass ceiling just meant architecture
and not struggles.
assigned to the simple roles of
muses roses beautiful garnish.
never even allowed to be an artist,
nor judges presidents scientists.
sounds things from the past
but what if you live in a bubble.
consider myself
and other immigrants daughters,
what happened after war
and revolutions
and technological progress.
we’re still hiding in corners of offices
dark bars, dirty stages
the world still a dangerous cage
with broken men everywhere.
I consider myself
and other immigrants daughters,
and think about the path out of invisibility.
becoming our own heroes, role models.
act III. beauty.
consider myself
and other future boss ladies.
who are getting promoted
and finding spaces in executive boards,
redefining what it means to have power.
who are confronting their demons,
imposter syndromes,
creating a network of beacons.
who are learning to tell their stories
on their own terms
with silence ink sometimes words.
consider myself
and other future boss ladies.
who discover they can direct beautiful plays
create light, draw movement.
they discover they can find a common language
learning to hear their own voice, trust their vision.
the world is not a dull place
after all. it’s our decision.
I consider myself
and other future boss ladies
and think about lessons of previous generations
stories of abnegation frustration, unfulfilled big dreams
that never found a place.
I see them thriving.
I see them shining.
I see me shining.
