Who I'am

It seems after 36 years I would know who "I'am" but I do not. It seems like every time I felt close to what I thought would me evolved to something I did not recognize or even like. Growing up with insecurities, low self-esteem and uncertainty seemed traits only I had, denying being an child of a immigrant parents made me this way. I remember clearly talking to the school counselor in 7Th grade about trying to kill myself.

My best friend had wrote an paper about her friend who wanted to kill herself...I was that friend so I had to go meet with the school counselor. I was nervous and scared...I don't think I actually drank that day, although at the time it's what got me through these painful years. All I remember was that she (counselor) told me she understood that my pain stemmed from my parents being immigrants....she pissed me off because this was my own self-hatred and had nothing to do with my parents (so I thought). She explained that she too was a daughter of German immigrant parents and she too knew of my pain. I felt anger and hatred for her, what did the hell did she know, she was white she could not know how much I hated being Korean. It wasn't my parents but me, my own self loathing of my small nose, almond eyes, and dark hair not my parents.

I did not understand at the point what impact it had on me and my brothers that my parents were never home. That being a immigrant from Korea did have a huge impact on what we were and who we would become. I never thought of myself as the typical smart Asian student...please I was far from it. My second older brother was smart in that he was very good in math but I did not have that gift. Nope, the only thing I enjoyed doing was reading, writing and drawing. Although I dreamed about being a dancer, singer or an actress. But maybe the Asian in me kept my future in check. It wasn't realistic besides not everyone could make it nor be successful in it. Besides it's not like I had any true talent.

My parents always encouraged us to get good grades, however they did not know how to help us, they did not give us the tools because they did not know. They were too busy trying to survive in a country that was not theirs, raising their children in a culture so different from their own all while scrapping together every cent to buy a home. In the eyes of society they succeeded, they came to the United States with not a cent to their names but accomplished the American Dream. They bought their own home without any help from public assistance. They worked hard for everything the had...they bought cars for their kids when they turned 16 even though they never went out to dinner by themselves. They sacrificed their own lives for their children and family although at the same time they were destroying themselves. It's their self sacrifice that has gave us our lives, this chance.

Looking back at my parents lives (as well as other family members) I understand they have lived their lives from a very different time, not just culturally different. They were from the old school generation who experienced the war, hunger, basic survival so unlike the experiences we faced. To say that we were just influenced by different cultural ideologies and understandings would be a stretch. They were trying to adapt to a new world, new ideas all awhile trying to keep the familiar, trying to instill the virtues and beliefs of yesterday to their children who painfully tried to fit into today.

To say I was the only one to feel the pain and self doubt would be a lie, after coming upon so many personal blogs on the web about other Korean American people, ones who had similar experiences as mine if not the sheer doubt and pain of being different, not being accepted. I realize who "I'am" today results from these experiences, the experiences of my past, of my parent's past, that we are all intertwined together. That the foundation of who we are extends from them and coming from immigrants that do not know their place in a new society it is hard to pass on confidence and ability to their children. But even so many immigrant parents do just that, they pass on roots, foundation of self through tradition those we may have fought so hard against while growing up but now embracing as adults. Some lucky ones have embraced theirs sooner but most have not understood until they too became parents.

Once we became parents we were able to feel the love, fear, pain and joy it meant to have a extension of ourselves. All the dreams and hopes we may have lost long ago were reborn with this new chance. So we slowly began to understand our parents, slowly the words that seemed so repetitive and annoying became wise and precious. We began to understand the words sometimes that seemed cruel or cold came from a warm place of love. Love for us, the love our parents showed us were neither through words or even embraces but through actions, commitment and always standing by us after pushing us down. It is their love for us that kept us going even though we thought we were so alone, they stood beside us.

I realize this now that even though I had my son at 20, not married my parents never kicked me out. They could have after all, parents do it all the time, disowning their children. I wasn't following their rules and did what I wanted but they never abandoned me...sure there were many expressions of disappointment and shame from my mom but they never lost hope in me. They continued to love me not in words or by hugs because that wasn't their way but by keeping me close, supporting me in ways I did not understand.

The parts of me I did not understand or hated became my source of strength and power. From my understanding of my past, my parents history can I face the future, my children's future.

Just like tradition?

Saturday I went to my mother's house to cook food for Chesa for my grandfather, like always it was just myself and my aunt. My mother had to work and my brother and his wife knew nothing of it. Even though he was supposed to be there and his wife should have been cooking I was doing it like I had been for the last 14 years. That's the funny thing about our family, even though my two older brother's were raised here in the U.S. they grew up watching my father fulfill the duties of Eldest son taking care of all his family. However the right and privilege of being a boy excused them from doing "women's work" however their wives were spared the duties that come with being married to them. So I the lowly daughter takes care of my brother's wives duties. Even though I'm excluded in the actually ceremonial part of Chesa I have cooked all the food.

I know Korea is a patriarchal society however I did not realize how much my own life has been dictated by it. Moving to California in 1978 we were the only Korean , heck only Asian kids for that matter in our white suburban school. It was all about learning English, we all had English names picked out for us by my Aunt's white friends. Penny, Patrick, Chad and Jamie...yes those were the names we were given to us. My name is the last one, Jamie...a Scottish boy's name in origin. The key to success at that time history was all about assimilation, to leave behind our old culture and learn to be an American. But regardless of how American I thought I was it was obvious I wasn't, because no matter how well I spoke English and was hip to the customs that would never change how my face looked. I hate to admit it now but in junior high and high school I hated being Korean, wishing I was white. I felt ugly and worthless because no matter what I could not look like everyone else. I'm ashamed to admit it but I tried killing myself during these years of turmoil. It was may things not just my looks and wanting, needing to fit in but the lack of my parents understanding and presence in my life.

I know it sounds cliche but when my family arrived in the U.S. we didn't have a penny in our pockets and after just two days in being in the states my father started working in a factory. Luckily we lived with my aunt and her American husband however that experience in itself was traumatizing. My parents both worked, my father in the factory, doing yard work on the weekends, my mother working night shifts at the same place and cleaning houses in the day. So I never saw them and my aunt became our overbearing, authoritative caregiver. I know she had her reasons of why she treated us the way she did, because she too had a very hard life. I cannot blame anyone really for the circumstances in life we were all dealt. So this isn't about blame but of factual things that occurred in my life.

Even though living in Korea we were considered poor, we always had enough to eat and my mom stayed home with me and my two older brothers while my father worked. However moving to the U.S. changed my entire world, we were moving here for us, to give us a better opportunity, to get an education because in Korea it costs money to go to school. So we came for the American dream of opportunities and for a better life. But it didn't seem that way once we got here, it seemed like the most miserably time because my parents were gone and we were dealing with a strict and mean aunt who drilled us with orders and demands on how to act, talk, play, eat, etc. It was a living hell for us because we actually planned on running away into the hills we saw in the distance, we thought we could live in the "wild" with animals to get away from our wicked aunt, from all the strange new customs and ideas that were forced down our throats. So we would day dream of running away, not worrying about being too loud, or if we could run and play, so we could eat what we wanted when we wanted. Our new life was full of rules, regulations and restrictions. We were called names and disciplined and felt like a burden and our parents were never around to defend us. We became orphans in ways, because our parents were busy working trying to save money so we could move out on our own.

Looking back now I realize this was a very hard time on us all, even for my aunt who surely felt bad and sorry to her American husband to have burdened him with her family from Korea. So I can see why she treated us the way she did. I'm not saying it was right but I can understand why.

Even when we were "poor" in Korea I never felt ashamed, hungry, hurt, scared or abandoned as I did when we moved here. The simpleness that was my world disappeared and the complications of living with others caused fights and tension between my parents. I'm sure they fought in Korea but not like this, and we were constantly ridiculed and disciplined for our bad behavior by aunts and grandmother. I did not understand why they spoke badly of my mother and why they always thought I was spying and telling my mom things they were doing to us, they would call me a "fox", even though I never told my mother of the things they would say and do to us. But that did not stop them, so I always lived very aware of others emotions of how I should act and be.

Being children of immigrants we were to became the translators into our new world, to explain to our parents of new world, try explaining medical stuff when you only have the language capabilities of a 4 year old child but I became the main translator, the main person who family members came for help in explaining paper work or writing applications, etc. I guess the real kicker is when we couldn't explain what things meant we were considered"stupid" by my uncle. My father's younger brother, the mean one, the one who supposedly was a lawyer in Korea. He was always fast to tell us what not to wear, say or do, he knew everything yet always came to us for translation and help. He married a "educated" woman unlike my mother, a woman who he could not stand up too and hated. A woman who bore him a daughter and not a son, a selfish woman who was educated but did not follow Korean tradition of family and shunned his family members because she thought she was better. She was born to a mistress herself, the only daughter who was disliked even by her own brothers that when her mother passed away in Korea they never told her about it. Seems ironic doesn't it for someone who is educated that she is shunned by her own family while she shuns her husbands family.

The complications go on and on, far more than what I can write right now, the reasons why my life was so complicated when it should have been so simple. The traditions that ties us to a culture even though we are thousands of miles away. The pain and confusion I felt growing up a Korean girl in California.