I Didn’t Know I Was Korean
That sounds like a strange title, right? How can you not know that you’re Korean? Look at yourself! Well, I’m here to tell you that I straight up did not know I was Korean. And, it’s going to take more than one Medium post to explain, but bear with me — if these posts do nothing other than spark some conversation, I’ll feel like I’ve put some goodness into the ether.
I grew up in a suburban, middle class town and attended what I would now consider to be the flagship, public high school of our neighborhood district. The catch-man area in my neighborhood would have sent me to “that hick school” and I wanted to go to the school where all of my friends would be and where I knew the smartest of the smart would attend. Attendees at our school were known as the “Rich Bitches”. Without knowing the data from almost twenty years ago, I can tell you, anecdotally, that we were not a diverse school. I can tell you that the “hottest” boys were white. The “hottest” girls were white. The smartest boys were usually white and the same goes for the girls. I can name the number of Eastern Asian students on one hand, that I can remember. The same goes for any other race or ethnicity other than white. It was my normal. In fact, growing up in an almost exclusively white neighborhood was so much my normal, that as a child, my parents would dress me up in traditional Korean clothes for Halloween — because, I was such an anomaly in my community, that dressing up in traditional, non-white American clothes could effectively serve as a costume on a day when others dressed as fantastical but frightening beasts and creatures. One would think that type of experience would be enough to make me understand, that I was not like everyone else. But, it didn’t understand. Instead, I had this dual-reality growing up — I thought I was white while knowing that I wasn’t. It wasn’t as simple as feeling like I just wanted“be like everyone else” because I thought I was — except that I knew I wasn’t. It’s a strange duality that I think only non-white American people have.
“I thought I was white while knowing I wasn’t.”
As a first grade student in the playground, I remember a boy came up to me and put his fingers to the outside corner of his eyes and stretched them and stuck his tongue out at me. I didn’t know why he did it but I knew he was doing it to be mean. I understood he was making fun of the shape of my eyes. I knew my eyes were different, but didn’t think it was something to be ashamed of — so, I responded by pushing the outside corner of my eyes in to make my eyes rounder and stuck my tongue out at him. I know now, that that is one of my earliest memories of racism. He didn’t know what he was doing, he just knew I didn’t look like him and he did what any little 6-year old might do when trying to be a mean little 6-year old. I wonder now, if that little boy did that to other people. Did an adult tell him why his actions were hurtful? Did an adult explain to him how everyone is different? Did an adult tell him that my eyes were beautiful, too? I know no one told me those things. My mom never told me I was beautiful because of my Korean features. I don’t think she ever felt she needed to — Koreans are a proud people and I think she expected that this would translate without explicit instruction. It didn’t.
My story is probably the most non-unique story. It’s probably the story of many non-white Americans out there. But, I feel compelled to share my experiences with the hope that there is a teenager out there who might need to know that they’re not alone. In the coming days and weeks, I will share snippets of my experiences from why I don’t date Asian guys, to why “Say something in Korean” makes me want to run and hide, and my first experience with having Asian friends. The times are different now, and I know much of my experience may or may not relevant to today — but, it’s part of the microcosm of our American story. Why race is so important to discuss. Why diversity cannot be taken for granted. I hope you take this journey with me and enjoy the ride. Please share, if you think it’s at all interesting or thought-provoking.
xoxo,
Kady
