Traveling Beans

Ethnic Asians: Not American Enough

Last month Fulbright had a mandatory conference --which was a lot like a mini-vacation-- in Gyeongju, which is on the north eastern coast of Korea. We were supposed to have a workshop titled, "The Korean-American Experience vs. Non-Korean American Experience." I protested to the title, saying that it was polarizing and misleading --clumping the experiences of all Korean Americans, effectively essentializing and stereotyping them. So it was changed to emphasize a broader discourse of difference. Still, a large topic of discussion was how some of us have been treated differently and have received certain expectations and hardships simply because we are Korean America --i.e. look Korean. In retrospect, considering the so many instances I have found myself in, I sort of wish we had that workshop or could have it again, using the original title, because I could use a place to vent and reason the various, at times contradicting, and most of the time confusing situations I am in.

For example: My host mother once told me that she had to deal with people in our building thinking that I was her husband's younger lover. Why she had to tell me, why they would think that her husband's younger lover would be living with him and his wife and always hanging out with his wife is topic for another blog; however, what I want to share is she later on hinted that if I were white, she probably would not have had that trouble to deal with. I couldn't help but notice the resentment in her voice. In other fall-outs we've had, she has mentioned something to the effect of, if I were American (not even white, just if I were American...hmmm....AMERICAN DOES NOT = WHITE is all I wanted to say), we probably would not be arguing or it would be different. She has stressed that it gets difficult for her sometimes because when she looks at me, I "look so Korean" she expects me to behave like a Korean person. Whatever that means. I have still yet to determine whether there really is specific Korean behavior, whether she is using it as an excuse, both, or maybe something else.

Example #2: Two mornings I caught the elevator the same time as an older man in my building. The first time, he noted that I lived on the 20th floor. Yes I do. Are you not Korean? No I am not, I am American. Oh. The second time we met, So you're not Korean? You sure damn look Korean. Are your parents Korean? Yes they are Korean. Well you said you were American. I am, I was born in America...and at this point I rather be American than Korean because I can't stand the way Koreans are passive aggressive, condescending, judgemental, repressive, sexist, patriarchal, hierarchical, and so on. I didn't say the second half (I don't know how to say all that in Korean and besides, I know better than to generalize like that...I know that is just how I feel sometimes...), I just simply explained that I was born in America. He then answered, Well then you're Korean...but his voice faded as he heard himself say it because he was puzzled himself whether I was Korean or American.

Example #3: I was interviewed for the school newspaper. For my picture they wanted to include some shots they took of me during a workshop I lead for the other English teachers here. However, they are afraid that I am unidentifiable in the picture because, well, I look Korean just like all the other teachers. Imagine that. So, I was asked for antoher picture, perhaps one with "my friends" in it or my family. So I showed a picture of my brother, his two kids, and me from graduation. The teacher's reponse, "Well....they look...Korean." My reply: "That's because they are." She didn't know what to say. I wasn't trying to prove a point...I sincerely don't have any other pictures. If I had a good picture of me and Hilary, I would've given that because I'm sure that's what she was looking for. I didn't have that picture, so I didn't have the opportunity to just relinquish this time. I was forced to push the issue. Then I told her, well you know I just don't really have many pictures with other white friends. Then I continued on with whether that mattered because in America not everyone is white. She knew what I was saying, but she said the people putting the newspaper together needed something different.

In the end...I found a way to settle it, but....you get the picture. ha. no pun intended.

The examples are endless. Truly...I just don't want to list them all.

It's interesting to juxtapose these experiences against what I went through in Cuba. I remember, Kristofer and I telling people he was Puerto Rican and that I was Korean instead of saying we were from America. I mean...many times people did want to know our ethnicities, but we also weren't being up front about our nationalities (though they figured it out anyway). But as I continue to live here, and though I can "pass" as a national Korean --my accent is almost perfect when I saw the everyday important things (greetings, polite phrases, etc.) I almost don't want to get by that way.

Sometimes, passing feels like relinquishing my English words and tongue, my walk, my posture, my big "bahng bahng" (like a car horn...y'know my butt...that's what my host mother said to me once, "Whoah, Jackie! Bahng Bahng!"), my laugh (a lot of times I hear students surprised and mocking my loud laugh...as though it is unbridled in comparison to what they are used to)...giving up things that are hard to control, but that people remind me of and comment on all the time. Passing doesn't even necessarily mean giving up being "American." Passing doesn't even mean conforming all the time. Passing sometimes seems to mean fading away in the background so that people will stop noticing me, asking questions about me because they are used to knowing about other peoples' lives by decoding certain clues and behaviors.

A thought just came into my mind: why did the man have to figure out who I was? If I were slightly younger looking, he would not have paid any attention to me. Because I do not fall readily into any category --my sexual capital is ambiguous: I am not a young girl or a married woman, but am somehow different and noticable. Thus, he had to ask me questions in order to catalog me and place me accordingly. This has also happened many times. I am sick of feeling like a tempting harlot just because my age is ambiguous and because I do not conform to the way many women look here (aka: my big butt, "smaller face", lack of make up and thus "natural look", upright posture, direct eye contact**). You'd think I had a big, red S on my chest.

I should probably retitle this blog...I have no ideas...I'm sick of categorizing, labeling, stereotyping, fitting, squeezing, ...just know, this is one aspect of my life here. Not a big one...it just seems big when I am tired or annoyed.

**these are all details that others have pointed out many many times.

posted by jacquelina @ 4:16 PM