Home Life
My homestay family continues to be a great source of support and encouragement. I feel so lucky that I am not only able to spend time with them, but with a little help from Papago, we are also able to laugh a lot together, share about our days, and have some very meaningful discussions. I look forward to family dinners each night and the chats that always follow. Currently my home stay sister has been consumed by upcoming exams, so I am doing my best to offer encouragement and snacks every step along the way.
Traveling/Friends
Over the past month, I've traveled with friends to Gwangju, Damyang and Busan. Also, I had my first visitor, my friend, Kiyo (s/o to you Kiyo because I know you're reading this. You and Aunt Mary are the real homies). Gwagju and Damyang were a blast, despite the downpour from the passing typhoon. It was the first time I left Jeju and it was so fun to see my friends. As expected, we laughed a lot and talked too much. Holy Moly, (my students love this one because it sounds like my name) I missed them. The trip was also a bit of a comedy of errors, as my flight home got canceled because of the typhoon. I waited too long to rebook so I had to take a bus, a ferry, and then another bus to get home in time for school on Tuesday. So 바보. Thank goodness for homestay parents and my understanding coworkers.
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| Traveling in a typhoon: Expectations |
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| Reality |
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| So 바보 |
From award-winning filmmaker Justin Chon (GOOK, 2017), MS. PURPLE is a poignant drama about Asian American sister and brother, Kasie (Tiffany Chu) and Carey (Teddy Lee), who were raised and are now seemingly stuck in Koreatown, Los Angeles. Abandoned by their mother and brought up by their father, the siblings continue to struggle with deep emotional wounds from the difficulty of the parental dynamic. Now, with their father on his death bed, the estranged Carey comes home to help Kasie care for him. As they reunite over their dying father, Kasie and Carey confront their shared past, attempting to mend their relationship.
Finally, I celebrated the arrival of "Kiyo Day" (that's what me and homestay family were calling his visit) with good food, friendship, and lots of pictures. On Hangul Day, I had the day off from school so Kiyo, our friends, and I climbed 성산일출봉 (Seongsan Ilchulbong Peak), an UNESCO World Heritage site, went to the Bunker de Lumières: Klimt, and stopped by the coffee museum. The next day, Kiyo came to school with me and we had fun co teaching and meeting my many curious students. They were disappointed that Kiyo was neither their new teacher, nor my boyfriend. After school we went to 서귀포매일올레시장 (Seogwipo Maeil Olle Market) to walk around and eat snacks, followed by a quick run into the ocean by my house, per my insistence. By all accounts, Kiyo Day was a hit.
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| We <3 Jeju |
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| To celebrate Kiyo Day we had to eat black pork, a Jeju specialty |
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| Views from 성산 |
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| Gustav Klimt Art Bunker |
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| Post Swim selfie. No regrets |
September Celebrations
September was a busy month in the birthday department. My coteacher, my homestay sister, 오빠, and myself all celebrated birthdays. There were special birthday meals, presents, and of course, I had to introduce the Clark family traditional birthday hat.
Chuseok, one of the most important Korean holidays, is also in September. Sometimes Chuseok is referred to as "Korean Thanksgiving" and it has a similar focus on food and family. For my homestay family, that meant eating lots of yummy food and preparing a table to honor the families ancestors. We also played a traditional board game called 윷놀이 (Yunnori).
School still has its moments, of course, but I have a lot a fun. My students are sweet boys and they make me laugh. Sometimes I wish I wasn't their teacher so I could tell them just how funny they are. Honestly, I was pretty intimidated by the thought of teaching all boys, but I really do feel like I'm in the right place. I've been joking with my friends that in a lot of ways, I feel just like them. In the same way as them, I'm really just trying to figure everything out. The independence of my first "real" job is new and I'm also emotional, hungry, and sweaty most of the time. Basically, my theory is that I'm going through second puberty right beside them.
On a more serious note, college was really hard for me. For the past few years, I spent of time feeling pretty emotionally exhausted and the day to day felt pretty grey. Thankfully, things are a lot better now, I'm happy so say that I'm in a much healthier place. However, having a full adult range of emotions back presents its own challenges. Some days, it's just a lot. I'm happy, and I'm sad, I think I'm in love for 5 seconds every time someone says hi to me, I just really want a hug sometimes, etc. Of course, I'm grateful, but sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind. That's where my students come in. They are anything BUT grey. They are a million different colors and they're moving at a hundred miles per hour. They keep my days busy, but in the best way. Most importantly, they remind me that what I'm feeling is such a normal and natural part of life. They're feeling it because their hormones are raging, whereas I'm feeling it because my brain chemistry is finally balancing out and I'm diving into adulthood for the first time in a foreign country. Regardless of the reason, we're gonna be okay and we're gonna do it together. Whether or not my students realize it, I'm not only rooting for them, but I'm also rooting for myself that we'll all make it out in one piece.
A final note -
I am CONVINCED that my students pay more attention/are nicer to me when I look more traditionally feminine and on par with Korean women's fashion trends. I got a perm, put on a long flowy skirt, and suddenly I've become much more interesting. I am currently doing an experiment to test my theory and am only wearing skirts and dresses to school WITH a full face of makeup. You know I'm all about that data so stay tuned while I continue to make observations. I'm having fun gauging their reactions, although it's too soon to draw any conclusions. However, preliminary findings are promising, given that students have already noticed, with at least a few asking "Teacher, makeup?" and gesturing to my face with an approving thumbs up.
KAA Stuff
All in all, things are looking up for me here in Seogwipo. However, it can be a bit overwhelming, particularly because so much of what I experience here prompts me to reflect upon my lived experience as both an adoptee and a Korean America. Meanwhile, I am also expected to maintain a professional persona, navigate new relationships, and an unfamiliar cultural context, all while meeting the needs of my students. Of course, this can be exciting, but I feel an urgency (granted, some it may be my own impatience) to "figure my shit out" both professionally and personally. On a lot of days, I just want to skip ahead until I feel comfortable as a teacher and a Korean person.
My last adoptee update was admittedly a bit of a downer. As to be expected, my emotions are bit up and down, and I was definitely having a bit of a sad boi moment. However, it was certainly not the first time I questioned the legitimacy of my claim to Korean heritage. Growing up, there were very few people that could have been able to understand my confusion and even fewer that I felt comfortable sharing those feelings with. Virtually nobody validated my feelings of curiosity or need for a sense of belonging. On the contrary, most people implied that I was overstating the difficulties associated with transracial adoption, evening going so far as to question my love for my family and accuse me of lacking gratitude. Naturally, I've since dealt with a lot of self doubt and for lack of a better word, felt pretty "crazy" for struggling when most everyone around me told me that I should just be able to enjoy my life and move on.
Of course, the twists and turns of life have often brought me right to where I needed to be. My college years were particularly affirming in the sense that I was able to find community and solidarity with other Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders (AAPIs). Among many others, I am thankful for the friendships formed while I was interning with OCA - Asian Pacific American Advocates the summer after my sophomore year of college.
That summer, I met, a retired Chinese American community member who had been actively involved with OCA and the 1882 Foundation, an organization focused on bringing awareness to the significance of the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act. He became a great mentor and friend to my fellow interns and I, but I hadn't heard his story until last summer. While a group of current and former OCA interns gathered at this man's apartment, he told us about how growing up Chinese American in the Mississippi River Delta was incredibly difficult. So difficult, in fact, that in his young adulthood, he chose to reject his Chinese heritage, including language, community, etc. It wasn't until after he retired, that this man realized how much his sense of identity, or lack thereof, as a Chinese/Asian American impacted him and his relationships. Following his retirement, he then spent three years in China teaching English.
After hearing this man's story, I knew that I needed to put my heart and soul into my Fulbright application, and I was quite moved (read: I was a blubbering mess, y'all know I'm a crybaby) having heard someone I respected as an elder articulate what I had been struggling to admit to myself for a while. I grew up without understanding my culture and feeling a deep shame about being Korean/Asian, despite always putting on a smile and laughing along to the RACIST jokes (yup, I said it) that came my way. Although it was difficult to admit, this part of my upbringing affected me and my sense of self. This man's story not only validated my feelings, but also empowered me to want to start that journey of self-discovery. As much as I respect and love this man for sharing his story, I was struck with the urgency of not wanting to wait until I'm retired to look back at my life and realize something was missing.
Fast forward to now, I constantly have to remind myself to be patient and kind as I move through my year. It's easy for me to second guess myself and question whether all of this identity "stuff" is just my emotions getting the best of me, or me being "ungrateful". However, in those moments I remember my friend and his story. I remember that this will likely be a lifelong process, as frustrating as that may be to accept. When I doubt myself, I am affirmed when those around me encourage me to keep learning Korean or when someone calls me 애경. In other words, it is meaningful to be seen as someone who belongs and to have those around me acknowledge my effort.
I'm probably rambling now, but one moment that stands out in my mind happened on my birthday. One of my coworkers, a very kind teacher gave me a Korean flag button as a gift. Of course, it nearly made me cry. I'm almost definitely overthinking it, but the gift was meaningful because it felt like someone giving me a little piece of my agency back. As I've mentioned, so much of how I am perceived in terms of race/ethnicity comes down to how I look at first glance. Because of how I look, I never had the option to blend in. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't forget that I was Korean/Asian, because undoubtedly someone would eventually bring it up, whether it was math class stereotypes, or pulled back eyes, and even well meaning questions about my family.
However, this small gesture was a poignant reminder of the power that I still have. This person thought that I would enjoy wearing this pin, and he was right. To me, this felt like someone giving me permission to make a choice. Beyond having to wear my face every single day, I can choose to show my pride and my desire to be part of a Korean/Korean American community. I chose to come here, I choose to keep learning Korean, I am in the process of choosing to initiate a birth search, and all of those decisions were made based on my active participation. It's so new to realize that I do have a say in all of this. Honestly, it's both empowering and incredibly overwhelming. It's all still uncharted territory, and whatever the emotional fallout will be, there's no one to point fingers at besides myself. I suppose that's a part of growing up.
So, yes, maybe it is just a pin, but it's also not, and I'm not crazy, or dramatic for thinking that.
