“I seem to have run in a great circle, and met myself again on the starting line. “
Jeanette Winterson, Oranges are Not the Only Fruit
I finally made it! I want to live and breathe your culture. See your art. Taste your food. Learn how you think, speak, act and feel. I’m here in Seoul with arms wide open ready to love you and learn everything about you. I want to experience all the things I never realized that I wanted more than anything else in this world, until now. Funny how the heart somehow knows what it wants and the universe conspires in finding ways to make it happen.
It has been quite a journey to get here. Years of doubt and patience, often leaving the safe and familiar. Mixed emotions of happiness and sadness. Feeling lost and never quite understanding why I keep moving or what I keep chasing. But, the thrill of it all, I wouldn’t change it for the world. Let me tell you just a little about my journey before we start getting to know each other.
“If I’m an advocate for anything, it’s to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. Walk in someone else’s shoes or at least eat their food. It’s a plus for everybody.”
Anthony Bourdain
Dear Korea,
In my heart, I’ve always known I’d meet you one day. But as with most matters of the heart, sometimes you don’t listen. Many Korean adoptees grew up in rural parts of America; including myself. My personal experience, especially at a young age, was much different than most people can likely understand from meeting me for the first time. What they see is that I am Korean. Not as a Korean adoptee who grew up in a small town in America raised by a Caucasian family. There are a lot of questions that come with being adopted, “who do you look like”, “why were you abandoned”, “will you ever find your birth family”? And when you’re a completely different race and ethnicity, as you can imagine, it’s even harder to really understand.
When I was little growing up in that small town, you were just some distant place that existed on a globe in my dad’s office, almost as if you were imaginary. My parents told me about you, at least what they could, which to be honest wasn’t very much. There was a Korean brother and sister in my elementary school. Can you believe it? They were so kind to me. They even introduced me to Korean words and food but at the time, I was confused. I wasn’t Korean. At least, I didn’t want to be because it made me different than everyone else, and I was more concerned about fitting in to be the same. So I often pretended like we weren’t friends. That we didn’t know each other because I was embarrassed to be Korean. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I pulled away when you tried to get close. I’m sorry I pushed you deep down into the depths of my existence so that I could grow up never knowing you and in some way, never understanding those parts of me, until now.
Love Letters to Korea 