Second Generation

Recently, my mind has been mulling over the idea of what it means to be American. It was only in the last year that I have been officially deemed a US citizen and can truly be called Korean-American. All my life, I had only really referred to myself as Korean, because as far as I was concerned my blood, heritage, and family were so. But being here in the UK where being American is also associated with the title of 'foreign' has left me in conflict with how I identify. In the US, I always felt the scrutiny of other Americans as being 'foreign', regardless of whether they were white, Hispanic, or otherwise. I always felt as though I needed to make some display of my 'American-ness' through my behavior and speech in order to prove that I had lived in this country for as long as I can remember. I felt as though I had to show strangers through my ability to speak clear and articulate American English that I too was one of them, an American. But regardless of how American I wanted to be, I could never really called myself American. All my life, people would ask me where I was from, with the clear intent of trying to pin what kind of Asian I was. Understanding that, I would always answer that I was Korean, only to be met with the dreaded question of "Well, North or South?". When I was younger and had no real idea of what that distinction meant for the history of my ancestors and my people, I would get offended and quickly respond "South" with the intent of showing that at least I was a better Asian between the two. Like it was somehow shameful to be identified as North Korean. I look back at my younger self and regret how little value and confidence I had in my cultural identity. If people ask me that question now, my response is a long winded one. I tell them that I do not see the political drawn line that divides people with a common history, language, and culture. That I am blind to that distinction which I find has diminished the grave injustice that Koreans endured at the hands of nations that played a game of hegemony as it ripped families and a common nationality apart. I know that other friends of min, who have been raised in a similar situation to mine, have varying responses to the question "Where are you from?" that range from a forthright dismissal of their ethnicity to solely a wholehearted embrace of it. Now being naturalized and in the UK, I find that I don't know how I want to answer that question anymore.

Here, it's almost too easy for people to figure out that you're American. All you have to do is say hello and you're quickly met with the response, "Oh, you're American.". A phrase which is said with varying inflections of disdain and intrigue. All my life, I had never been identified by another person as being American at first blush, so I was taken aback at first. I have to this point just accepted that label because questions quickly follow it. "Where in the US?" is an inevitable response, even though it seems as though no one who asks that question really has any idea of US geography and thus the answer has no real significance. The conversation that proceeds after greeting someone for the first time here is painfully predictable. After these questions and my response of "Colorado", I get some knowing looks and then the cringe-worthy question of "So pot, amiright?". But that's getting off track. People that I have run into during my time abroad, just accept that being American is this innate way of being and disregard the way that a person looks to identify someone as such. This occurred to me as sort of novel, despite the fact that we have all learned in school that the US is the melting-pot of ethnicities. It was only in being somewhere other than the United States, that I finally felt as though I could identify as American. But in doing so I feel as though I am betraying an essential part of who I truly am by failing to acknowledge that I am more than American. Eighteen years of being Korean and only identifying as Korean only to all of a sudden lose that here has made me acutely aware that what I say in response to the question is more important that I realized. 

My parents had always told me that I was not American and that I should never act as though I was. I was taught Korean consistently as a child because my parents believed that one should know their own mother-tongue. Sleepovers were strictly taboo in my household because it was culturally inappropriate and Korean food was all that was ever really made at home. I never truly appreciated what my parents gave me when they forced me to learn to be Korean. They gave me an identity that comes with a rich history, culture, and heritage and they taught me that it is tragic to be Korean only by title. They knew that growing up in the US would automatically instill me with an American identity. They made sure that I realized that being completely ethnically Korean would always make it so that I was different from White Americans. And instead of teaching me to feel deficient in that way, they filled the separation with a robust Korean identity that makes me feel as though I have even more to myself. I've now decided that if someone were to ask me that question again, I would know how to respond. 

I'm Korean-American and I don't need to justify myself to you.