Recently, I may have stumbled upon a new revelation. I might have come to understand why “The Rhetoric of Human Rights” was one of my favorite classes at the U of W…unbeknownst to myself, I’ve been enthralled by what it really means to “help someone” for awhile now. I know there is no direct correlation to, nor do I make the assumption that the following are directly related, but nonetheless, I pose the following question: is it necessarily a positive thing to lend aid to a benefactor if the it is just a band aid instead of a long-term solution? In the case of financial aid to Africa—maybe not. Some might argue (which I was recently reminded of during BBC’s “Hard Talk”), always being considered the “receiver” is a detriment to self improvement. And possibly in my case, the same is true.
In recent years, let’s say for the past decade, I’ve been slowly becoming aware of how I may not have fit in the US. One possible cause for this is that, for many years growing up, I was treated differently. I am certain that I was not completely conscious of this fact at the time. For when people stared at me, I thought it was maybe because I was just “exotic-looking.” It may have occurred to me that it was because I was different, but the implications of that have changed for me over time. Yes. I look different on the outside, but I didn't acknowledge that that may have been how people viewed me on a person-as-a-whole level. It wasn’t until I moved to Boston that I began to toil with my identity as a Korean-American. I didn't feel as if I was being treated differently, if only in simple non-verbal communication. No random stares were shot my way; I was just another colored face in a rainbow sea of skin tones. It felt refreshing to be around people that weren’t all white.
Taking a step back to my youth, I truly feel that I may have been given certain opportunities because I was a minority. This effect was apparent through numerous channels of my life then, whether from my parents, siblings, friends, teachers, etc. Sometimes I was given preferred treatment, possibly as a result of my status as a minority. I may be discounting myself in certain aspects, but in retrospect, it may have been possible in some cases, probable in others.
It was then in 2008, that I was compelled to finally seek my roots. Though I had had some inkling to return at some point during my adolescence, it never came to fruition, as I had always needed to make money during free periods of my life. I was not satisfied with my life, generally speaking.
Then coming to Korea, as in making an effort to finally maybe finding my place (a possible explanation to my partial disconnection from both of my families—being adopted and having the underlying sense of being unwanted), it’s been a slap in the face to be not called or considered “Korean”—especially by fellow Koreans or the people that are nearest to me at the present moment—friends, co-workers, etc.
I’ve always assumed to govern my life, with the exception of love, by a code of logic (which happened to be another one of my favy yoo-dub courses). But bridging the gap between two languages, to me, seems a valuable tool when teaching a foreign language.
….too tired, more later,
self
turns out that two of my 10 nieces (halle, left; marlena, reght) were the ones who placed baby jesus in his manger...who knew?
so THAT's where bobby fisher has been all these years!
lilly, andrew, meebs...check it out. one of my sisters in the states (wendy--not the one pictured here as you know), in a feat of happenstance, purchased the sacred book (not the bible) that i had so coveted all those times at one of the bookstores in coex. breanna got version one, and i got #2. maybe this will be motivation for more (by "more" i mean "some") korean studies.
snow. oh how i missed thee. sort of.
another of my nieces (aly), enjoying the fruits of my brother's (혜진) labor. he saw me off to the airport in a fancy ass ride with US $200. what else would we purchase with that kind of cheese but a wii?
