I was born in Korea, but I still don’t feel Korean enough

“Wait, can you not speak Korean?”

For the past 19 years, this question has loomed ominously over my identity. While I went to Korean school for five years, as I often joke, it was on Saturday mornings. Hence, the only thing eight-year-old me learned how to do was con my teacher out of the answers.

Still, despite being born in Daejeon, South Korea, having an unhealthy obsession with banana milk and interning with a Korean American organization for three years, I often feel lost. In the spectrum between Korean and American, I’m wandering with half a clue and a malfunctioning map. Somehow, I’m too American to fit in with Korean standards but too Korean to align with American culture. 

At times, navigating my identity almost feels like a game of “Where’s Waldo?” When ordering in English at Korean restaurants with non-Korean friends, I wince internally. In Advanced Placement history courses, the curriculum and textbooks glorify the American dream while breezing over the roles and experiences of minorities, including those of Asian Americans or Pacific Islanders. I learned plenty about Manifest Destiny and the Revolutionary War  — but in lectures, I wondered where the “flavor” was. What of the Asiatic Exclusion League? Angel Island? Pearl Harbor and the Japanese internment camps?

Not only are Asian Americans or Pacific Islanders often viewed as “others” in American history, their stories are rarely told transparently — if they are even told at all.

Tags like “keep your head down,” “hardworking” and “quiet” are commonly held biases ingrained against Asians in American culture and society. Promoting the “submissive” Asian stereotype, these impressions mistakenly assume that the AAPI community is “not like other minorities” (haha quirky), and therefore doesn’t need as much help or aid as other groups. What’s even more confusing is that some of these tenets are actually encouraged in certain ethnic groups or interest communities. Korean culture, for example, pushes for perfection in work and unblemished success. Paired with mental health stigma (illnesses perceived as being “lazy”) that run deep in Korean customs, a culture of toxic perfection tends to glorify, if not promote, elements in the model minority myth. Despite conducting extensive research on the symptoms and gender disparity within ADHD, it took me years to convince my parents to let me get tested, simply because they believed I wasn’t trying my best to study or stay focused. 

Frequently referred to as the “model minority,” the AAPI experience is akin to navigating H Mart right before Chuseok (Korean Thanksgiving) or Lunar Festival:

You go to an understaffed H Mart right before holiday and they just got new shipments of everything. Employees are scrambling trying to account for items and haul them over to their respective shelves. In the midst of this chaos, you realize the Melona bars you specifically came to the location to buy are not there. While they have similar brands, the aisle is so packed that after a couple seconds, you get pushed back into a swarm of frantic halmonis. You could’ve sworn you saw some boxes in the stack of shipments, but it’s no use. It’s so crowded, you can’t even see the freezer window. Asking someone for help would be an option — that is, if you could catch up to one of the 10 workers sprinting through the store. So you do the only thing you can do: You turn around and leave.

It’s sad that the Melona bars weren’t there when they should’ve been. In fact, if your recollection was correct, they could’ve been there. But they weren’t, and that was that. Maybe, you muse, in an hour they’ll be there, and you can rejoice, but that depends on a range of variables that are unaccounted for.

Dashing down the aisles of American history, legislation, policies and culture, AAPI communities and interest organizations work to mitigate some of the damages. At USC, organizations and clubs such as the Korean American Student Association, Asian Pacific American Student Assembly, Delta Phi Kappa and more create community and conversation where it lacks. Nestled in a busy metropolis, students at USC have access to opportunities where they can connect with their roots and explore other cultures. Despite these efforts, however, the assumptions asserted by the model minority myth, lack of diverse voices in American curriculum and deep-rooted biases and impressions have lasting effects, regardless if they are acknowledged or not.

Recently, College Board announced the release of a new course: AP African American Studies. While this is a big step for College Board as a corporation and American education in general, educational entities such as the Board and the Department of Education need to do more to recognize and value AAPI commitment and experience. 

I don’t speak Korean, I have a low spice tolerance and I don’t watch K-dramas. But I was born in Korea, I grew up on H Mart runs, Yogurtland and bingsu, and I regularly supplement the dining hall food with Shin ramen, Chocopies, banana milk and honey butter chips. I may not be secure in my identity as a Korean American, and may not be for a while. But, regardless of whether I’m comfortable with it or not, as a member of this community, I have a responsibility to remember, learn from history and ensure it is accurate. You do too.