Out of the Shadows — My journey and reflections growing up Korean American
I’ve started and stopped writing this post too many times to count.
This past year’s rise in Asian hate crimes has hit close to home for me and many others, bringing up a variety of emotions, confronting topics, meaningful conversations, and empowering movements. I’ve finally mustered up the courage to collect my thoughts and share my journey.
I have two intentions in writing this piece.
My first intention is to show what meaningful Allyship looks like — how you can hold space for someone to listen, learn, empathize and support.
My second intention is to share my experiences to help others who have had similar challenges and hardships, Asian or other. I hope you know you are not alone. Wherever you are at in your journey, whatever happened to you doesn’t define you. It is what YOU inevitably decide to make of these situations.
I’m in Second Grade, 7 years old. My Korean grandparents (Halmonee & Habogee) were taking care of my siblings and I while my mom and dad worked full time.
They made our meals with love and packed our school lunches. You could say food was their love language, but that’s an understatement. Today’s special — bibimbap. I don’t arrive at school with a brown paper bag, but a thermos…with layers. I bring my lunch to the picnic table, going from excitement to embarrassment as classmates start to wince and cringe at the look and smell of my food. Thoughts race through my head — It’s bibimbap, my favorite, do they not know it? Am I different? I look around and see the ham and cheese sandwiches on white Wonder Bread…in this moment I only wished I was holding a sandwich. I feel shame.
My coping mechanism of choice — denial. I decided my meal was gross, I “didn’t know who packed it”, and threw it away in front of my friends, buying a new sandwich from the lunch line. I chose to separate myself from the situation. This was the beginning of my conflicted identity and delayed sense of self. A recurring theme that began to unfold…
I’m in fifth grade, 10 years old. It’s my turn to present my family history for heritage week. I’m tasked with filling up a treasure box with artifacts and snacks tied to my background. I am Korean-American, my ethnicity is 50% Korean and 50% German/Irish, yet I spend 100% of my air time talking about my dad’s caucasian side of the family. I bring in a Czechoslovakian treat called Oplatky, a large circular thin wafer that I only discovered just a week before. What about the delicious Korean rice cakes and candies I’ve been having my whole life? What an opportunity missed.
I’m in seventh grade, I’m 11 years old. My classmates are starting to hit puberty, cliques are formed and bullying begins. Being, looking or acting anything different felt like a crime. Several classmates including myself were bullied for being different. Comments are made — I learn the word chink and Gook. I get asked if I’m from North Korea, as they hold their breath fearing I’m a communist. My Korean grandfather fought in the Korean war supporting the Americans as a translator, but that’s beside the point.
I “take it” as classmates squint and pull their eyes apart to visibly show me I’m different. I already feel low, but I keep getting on with it. I get invited into the advanced math class, but the excitement gets immediately dismissed by peers saying “of course, because you’re Asian”. I run for student council as the Spirit Commissioner, I run against a popular girl. I won, and thus began the “We Hate Bree Club”, WHBC for short. A petition signed by almost everyone in my class and put on my desk as the class laughed, and I cried. I was devastated.
Thus began my fear of standing out and being successful. Success became intertwined with fear and shame. It was then that I started to lose my voice, with a deep feeling of unworthiness that took years of therapy to even begin to undo.
I’m in high school, I’m 16 years old. I attend a predominantly white school, and find worthiness from associating myself with white friends and dating only white men. If I only associate with my white side, does that make me whiter? Do I fit in more? Do they like me because I’m an “exotic Asian chick” or do they like me for me? Being half-Asian, I have the “convenience” of leaning into my white side, and I run with it, thinking I can come out the other end “unscathed”.
I’m in university, I’m 20 years old. I go to school in the Midwest, even more predominantly white than my high school. Some students came from rural country towns and have never seen or been exposed to Asian culture before. I’m one of a few Asians in my sorority of over 200 women, I’m identified as one of the “token diversity cards” for recruiting each year. I continue separating from my mixed-race identity. I go along with jokes, creating self-deprecating remarks of my own, and I “allow” friends and boyfriends to do the same. It get a pit in my stomach looking back on this time.
At the same time, university was where I met my first allies. Friends who asked questions, embraced my culture with me, learned how to cook Korean meals and made 1 hour detours from campus to buy bulgogi and kimchi. I joined Korean communities and made Asian friends. I start to find my people, Asians and allies.
I’m at my first company, I’m 22 years old. I get my first 360 feedback review and the summary is that “Bree is really nice”. I’m disappointed. This is a business review, not a Miss Congeniality contest. I had realized my voice had quieted, it was easier to put your head down, avoid confrontation and just fit in. I leave a meeting saying my opinions after in fear of being wrong, and a female peer and mentor tells me in a strong voice — “You need to speak up”. I continue to evolve.
I’m in San Francisco post-university, I’m 24 years old. I choose a Chinese restaurant with my group of girlfriends and they ask if I can read “Asian”. No, no I cannot. I call that friend after and stand up for myself, and she apologizes. A little voice, baby steps.
I’m in Sydney, Australia, I’m 26 years old. After a significant break up, I begin to look inward. I start to form a new identity away from the confines of home and my old self. I go to therapy to begin chipping at the root of my insecurities. I break through the shackles of the worth I had tied to others by association. I start to regain my voice and develop my own opinions. I stop piggybacking off my parents opinions and develop opinions of my own. I release my people-pleasing habit and give myself permission to do what’s best for me.
I’m a regional marketer, I’m 27 years old. Two female peer colleagues feel threatened and bully me. I get ridiculed in meetings and minimized. I experience the realities of “tall poppy syndrome” here in Australia. It turns into an HR investigation that re-opens the wounds of my youth. I continue to do the work to untie success and shame. You can be successful AND have friends. I understand more than ever the importance of women supporting other women.
I’m at my second company, I’m 28 years old. I have a solid group of supportive Asian friends. I join the Asians@ ERG group at my company and realize the potential and platform we have to make change. I find more of my people. I learn that sharing pictures of bibimbap lunches make you the coolest on your #Asians & #foodathome slack channels.
I’m 30 years old. I have the opportunity to speak at events to build up my confidence and courage. I have supportive female friends both inside and outside of work that lift each other up. I develop an even closer bond with my parents, sharing the opinions, values and views I now had on the world. The idea of “what drives me” evolves from proving others wrong, into proving I can be whole and happy all on my own.
I go from a bystander to realizing I have a platform and a voice. Asian hate crimes rise and the community speaks up and starts to have a movement. I listen, observe and process. My mom has a near-death ski accident, and I contemplate all the questions I never asked her — about race, identity, her history and her struggle as an immigrant. Did I push her away? Could I have done more? I have a tearful heart to heart with her after her recovery, realizing my perceptions were all mistaken. It’s not too late to make waves & create change. I join an AAPI marketing leadership group to support one another and change the way diversity is represented and shared across our advertisements and campaigns. The voice gets louder.
How can you be an ally? Allyship comes in all shapes & sizes, it can be as big as a campaign, or as simple as a conversation to ask how someone is doing. It can sometimes feel like everything is off limits to discuss or share during such a sensitive time, but not speaking up at all will lead us nowhere. I believe sharing your experiences is the first foundational step of Allyship, and allies can seek to empathize, understand and hold space for someone. There’s no perfect handbook on how to be an ally, but I’ll leave you with a text I received from a dear friend during this time that moved me…
“Hey — how are you and your parents doing? I know you’re a bit removed over in Australia but the rise in Asian hate crimes over the past year and the recent shootings in Atlanta targeting Asian women is so devastating and wrong. It breaks my heart and makes me furious at the same time. I cannot begin to imagine how deeply it may affect you and your family to read these stories or live these experiences. Just wanted to say that I love you and am working on being a better ally and am always here for you xoxo”
What will you do today to become a better ally to your colleague, friend, family member or stranger?
You can learn more at https://stopaapihate.org/, and if nothing else, the most precious gift you can give someone as a peer or ally is the gift of your time and attention. ❤️
