#rejane

How do you identify ethnically?

I am half-Korean, half-white. In Korea they call it honhyol.

How do you feel like you belong to each ethnic identity?

Honestly, I feel like I still don’t quite belong to either. Koreans will still look at me strangely, notice my honhyol-ness, and white people will still view me as Asian. I’ve learned to embrace my Korean side as I’ve learned more about my family. I don’t know if I would call it “belonging,” but maybe a deeper understanding, respect, and appreciation for it. I do think I now feel more secure in the title “Korean-American.” I can still be Korean, practice certain values (read: nunchi) and view the world a certain way, but also find community and connection among white people. Some of my dearest friends today are white; and while it’s been a difficult (if awkward) journey of mutual understanding on both sides, I think that we’ve reached a point where I can feel truly comfortable being with them, not like a stranger or foreigner.

Was there one side of your heritage that you identified with more as a child? Do you feel like you belong to one identity over the other now?

I can say that when I was little, my uncle made being white sound shameful. Growing up, everyone in my neighborhood looked at me differently because I didn’t quite look like them. People (especially my uncle) treated me a certain way because I was honhyol, not fully Korean like them. Whatever “bad” qualities I had, they were attributed to my father–my “whiteness.” So as much as I wanted to be seen as Korean, it felt as if social circumstances and my own upbringing wouldn’t allow me to. I used to despise being this in-between. But as I’ve said before, since then I’ve come to learn that my whiteness isn’t a curse, and can in fact be an advantage: I have access and immersion in not one, but two divergent cultures. And I can either let them cripple my sense of self-worth and identity (like it used to), or let them reflect their positive impact in me. Even if I do subconsciously gravitate towards one identity over another, it doesn’t matter to me. I am content with who I am and how my past experiences have shaped me. What is important is that I know that both of those sides–Korean and white–are a part of who I am.

How has movement influenced your feeling of belonging to your identity?

I’ve definitely had my fair share of moving. And now that I think about it, with each move I practically forced myself to belong. When I was an au-pair at the Mazer-Farleys, I followed Beth’s rules and sat through hours of talks with her. I met my first white friend Nina, who encouraged me to dress more provocatively as they did in the clubs in the city. But at the time there was something in me that didn’t feel right about the situation in which I had placed myself (in no small part due to my affair with Ed), and I felt the sudden but strong impulse to leave altogether.

There was an article I read once in The New York Times, about South Korean adoptees returning to their country of birth. There was one sentence in particular that stood out to me: “How can a person exiled as a child, without a choice, possibly fathom how she would have ‘turned out’ had she stayed in Korea?” I thought of my grandfather, and how he had sent me away to live in America because he foresaw a future in Korea where I’d be judged for my mere appearance. So when I moved to Korea, I think I equated belonging with becoming just like them, at the cost of losing myself. I became so immersed in a different culture and lifestyle, that I felt the only way to belong was to conform to it. I changed my appearance and clothing, acted differently, and almost lost Nina. It took me a little while to realize I was doing it all wrong. The measures I was taking were making me feel more Korean, at least according to the standards of this modern society I was thrown into. It was becoming a norm for me–could’ve even been a “home”–but it was definitely not one I was comfortable in. It was much like how the South Korean adoptees felt; as much as they tried to conform by spending time in the country, Korea would never be home for them. I was actively trying to find a place to belong, that I didn’t realize that the change began within me, as cheesy as it sounds. I make the most of the place I am in. I am the one who can determine where I belong or who I belong with. My parents did that, and they were happy, so why couldn’t I? So I moved back to the United States, where I could be among the people with whom I wanted to be and live a life on my own terms. And from there I became happy.

Recount the scene in Food where Beth and Sang meet for the first time. That seemed to be a distinct clash of white and Korean culture–describe how you felt in that moment. Have there been any other instances in your life in which parts of your identity do not align/clash with each other?

That was probably the most significant (and awkward) clash of cultures I’d ever seen. It was bound to happen, since neither side had really had such close contact with the other. It’s weird to describe it that way–like they’re completely different species or something. But that’s what it felt like in that moment; Beth’s lack of nunchi was made all the more obvious in this little world that was dominated by it, while Sang couldn’t pick up on Beth’s own culturally-influenced behaviors. This woman who always seemed to have control of the situation and had the answer to everything suddenly didn’t, and she could feel it. Honestly, I probably watched it with such sick fascination because it was like a physical manifestation of my own identities clashing with each other.  At that point in my life, I felt like they could only exist separately, and that episode at Food only seemed to further prove this point.

Reflect on this passage from The Night Counter (“Like I was saying, I look at myself in the mirror a lot. I see sickly and pimply, but I don’t see Arab, or Chinese, or Black. I do see someone who could definitely pass for Latino but not a hot one like Shakira or Jennifer Lopez…I used to think I would look weird ice fishing, but once someone thought I was eskimo, so I guess I could go ice fishing one day if Brenda would want to do anything fun.”) How do other people’s perception of your identity affect your own perception of your identity?

I actually read this book. Nina recommended it to me, saying it reminded her of me. I guess because I always used to talk about how I’d look in the mirror and see neither a Korean or a white person. I’d just see me, a honhyol. And I thought that was a bad thing unlike this Decimal character, who didn’t seem to really care what she looked like, especially to other people. It’s odd, actually–in the United States, I was condemned by my family for looking too white. But in Korea, I was praised for my honhyol-ness. I had a friend who said she envied my “white skin, big eyes, big nose and small chin.” I’d never considered them as admirable features, more like things that set me apart from everyone else. There’s this article I found once called “Whatever Happened to the Kayumanggi?” It basically talks about how Filipino Malay people admire the fair skin of white people at the cost of acknowledging the beauty of their own golden-brown tone, called “kayumanggi” in Tagalog. This fascination had its roots in historical circumstances, like how the Spaniards converted the Filipino natives into worshipping white-skinned religious figures, or how the Americans brought along with them a vision of the Hollywood ideal. What I learned from this article, and my time in Korea, is that sometimes skin color can be associated with a specific value. It can truly affect how people think of themselves and others–which is probably why Monica always had a bitter undertone whenever she commented on my appearance or position as a half-Korean, half-white woman. The ads on the trains in Korea, my aunt’s fascination with cosmetics, it’s all a part of this attempt to attain what history and society has defined as a beauty standard. And while I let it get to my head a little bit, I think I’ve reached a place where I don’t care as much how people perceive me–because I am happy with the person I’ve become.

Reflection

Jones, Maggie. “Why a Generation of Adoptees Is Returning to South Korea.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 14 Jan. 2015.

Although Jane is not adopted from South Korea, she was similarly removed from the country due to the decision of others, and seemingly for her own benefit. This New York Times article essentially explores the impact this displacement (to the United States, no less) has on the adoptees, and how this impact is felt once they return to South Korea. There are various individuals interviewed who all come from different environmental circumstances and upbringings, which wound up affecting how they adjusted to the country of their origin: some were able to adjust and move their permanently, while others had a difficult time viewing it as another home for themselves. Jane falls into the latter group, raised in her own version of Korea and utterly unprepared for the world she threw herself into. The article captures a relevant angle on the concept of belonging and its relationship with movement: and in Jane’s case, how physically journeying to a part of your ethnic identity is not always a return home.

Pedero, Dero. “Whatever Happened To The Kayumanggi?” Philstar.com, The Philippine Star, 6 July 2003.