Just came home from the IKAA Gathering, overall two things will stay in my memory of this day, aside from the obvious "pretty house", "oh gosh so many koreans" and stuff.
a Swedish Korean adoptee who have lived in Korea five years, yet never really thought about any of the stuff talked about today - racism, identity, nationality... It made me wonder many things about her and myself, but most of all it felt like hope: here is someone just like me who is at peace.
and an Italian Korean adoptee who said "Maybe this is our prize - our gift in return for the traumas and things we've gone through: a unique perspective that nobody else can have." It made me realize that I don't feel as if this whole Korean thing, or this whole adopted thing, was forced on me and I don't wish it undone. It's more like I'm trying to understand this unique perspective I was given, because it's my duty and privilege as the receiver of such a gift.
Showing posts with label Korea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Korea. Show all posts
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
the choice of What If
Tomorrow I am off to meet other Korean adoptees, mostly Swedes but also from other parts of the world, and to listen to a bunch of them talking about, well... us. I asked myself "why", just before, and I'm not sure. I think, because I want to determine just how big a part of me this really is.
But as to "how big parts of us things are" it's a little arbitrary, wouldn't you say? Would I be this hopeless unmotivated game geek with author dreams if there had been nothing wrong with my leg? Or would I be a world famous dancer and model with posters in half the male population's bedrooms? Could anyone say that the two are the same person? And would my leg problem be the "defining" in my life, if we knew for a fact that the other path would have happen had it not been? Since there's so many other "defining" moments. Had I not gone to school away from home at 16 I might not have failed and lost confidence, but I might also have withered into a voiceless mouse in a corner without the support and inspiration of the people I met there. Or, everything might have gone exactly the same. So who can say which choices actually made a difference in our lives, and which don't. Maybe the big choices don't really matter, and some random small ones end up dictating our lives.
Well, the choice to go to this seminar will probably not lead to any life-defining changes. Unless I meet the most violently handsome Korean guy with whom I elope and raise sixteen babies, or a giant robot decide to invade Stockholm just tomorrow and beam me up into space. While those two would certainly be fun, it's the tiny little realistic "what-if"s that really scare/excite me. Like, what if I meet someone who is actually a younger sibling of mine, adopted away as I was, and we would possibly never know.
You know, thinking about that, any younger adopted Korean could be a sibling. Okay, so if that violently handsome Korean guy is not older than me, then I'll say goodbye and thanks for the fish. Do not want to go near that possibility, especially with a prospect of sixteen babies.
But as to "how big parts of us things are" it's a little arbitrary, wouldn't you say? Would I be this hopeless unmotivated game geek with author dreams if there had been nothing wrong with my leg? Or would I be a world famous dancer and model with posters in half the male population's bedrooms? Could anyone say that the two are the same person? And would my leg problem be the "defining" in my life, if we knew for a fact that the other path would have happen had it not been? Since there's so many other "defining" moments. Had I not gone to school away from home at 16 I might not have failed and lost confidence, but I might also have withered into a voiceless mouse in a corner without the support and inspiration of the people I met there. Or, everything might have gone exactly the same. So who can say which choices actually made a difference in our lives, and which don't. Maybe the big choices don't really matter, and some random small ones end up dictating our lives.
Well, the choice to go to this seminar will probably not lead to any life-defining changes. Unless I meet the most violently handsome Korean guy with whom I elope and raise sixteen babies, or a giant robot decide to invade Stockholm just tomorrow and beam me up into space. While those two would certainly be fun, it's the tiny little realistic "what-if"s that really scare/excite me. Like, what if I meet someone who is actually a younger sibling of mine, adopted away as I was, and we would possibly never know.
You know, thinking about that, any younger adopted Korean could be a sibling. Okay, so if that violently handsome Korean guy is not older than me, then I'll say goodbye and thanks for the fish. Do not want to go near that possibility, especially with a prospect of sixteen babies.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
A Sense Of Belonging
I'm trying to put form to my thoughts and it's very hard. I'm a bit too emotionally involved to keep an objective optinion, and don't really know the nooks and crannies of words like ethnicity, so I'm going to run with my gut.
Since I believe genetics is half of what I am, it means that from my viewpoint at 4 months of age someone locked the door between the two rooms and left me in the swedish part, and I willingly upheld this. People would point out the door but I gave pre-set answers and shied away from thinking about it. "Korean" was just a word. When I looked in the mirror, not many days ago, for the first time of my life, I felt Korean. I felt not just like a fake carbon copy, like a Swede with korean colors painted on, like I have before when people have asked me where I'm from. Instead for the first time I *understood* that I'm Korean, like the difference between mechanically solving a mathematical problem and actually understanding it. I felt one with my physical form. Toes dug deep in the sand. It passes, of course, like feelings do. But it was the first time of my life I felt whole. Maybe that is because I've never felt at peace with my physical form, and it's mostly been trouble for me. Maybe it's because I've always felt largely different from most people and have combined that with looking different. Maybe because I haven't felt that I really belong, really is in the right place, ever, anywhere. But I cannot deny what I saw and felt, nor the lasting impression it made. It is as if I can hold my head higher now.
So having Belgian blood doesn't make you Belgian, and people taking you for an American doesn't make you American. What does make you what you are then? And does that mean you do not consider yourself Belgian at all? I have always known I am Korean. Just like I have always been one to carefully consider before making an attempt at something - as a child I never crawled; I watched, waited and then walked. Culture, ethnicity, race, call it what you want. I care not for the labels. Does my form matter: yes, it does. It is as important to my identity as my opinions, my routines and my preferences. In fact, parts of those are shaped by my physical form. To take that to it's limit; would I have been the same without my crippled leg? Who knows. Maybe I inherited that from my father. It's not hard to extrapolate that sense of belonging to a people. Why do you feel Swedish, and not, say, just connected to your family line?
If there is only "culture" and no "ethnicity", then what is it I feel when I see people similar to me? Had people told me I was chinese or japanese, I might as well have felt chinese or japanese. I do not claim the ethnicity of Korean, or to ever become. I claim to be a Korean adopted to Sweden, and I claim my right to the full extent of that state of being, and that includes a Korean piece of identity. This isn't a huge intellectual venture. It's a gut feeling, and I've learned that those refuse to be ignored. And I don't think there is such a thing as "genetics alone". The two comes inseparably as far as we can tell, for now at least.
How can genetics play a part in an individual's personality but not on a grander scale? Genes are inherited from our parents, and shared by our siblings, and in extension that means more and more people. Different circumstances will force the expression of the same traits in different ways, and it will become diluted, but I have family over there, they are Korean, their ancestors were Korean. I may have a bit of Chinese or Japanese or Mongol, of course. If I say "they are my people", maybe you could argue me out of it eventually, intellectually. But the fact remains that I came from their blood, from their soil, from their culture.
How can appearance can be a cultural phenomenon? I can see that my hair is black and has a different texture and that my skin has a different tone. I can feel that my nose is different, even if I can't see it. A mirror puts it on the edge but is in no way the limit. Without surroundings, would I care about my form? Humans cannot live without surroundings, as little as we would exist without genetics.
Can we know how much is nature and how much is nurture? No. Not yet, maybe never. So it's difficult to say if any race have traits that are more genetically common. So for now that topic is on hold on a "who knows".
Since I believe genetics is half of what I am, it means that from my viewpoint at 4 months of age someone locked the door between the two rooms and left me in the swedish part, and I willingly upheld this. People would point out the door but I gave pre-set answers and shied away from thinking about it. "Korean" was just a word. When I looked in the mirror, not many days ago, for the first time of my life, I felt Korean. I felt not just like a fake carbon copy, like a Swede with korean colors painted on, like I have before when people have asked me where I'm from. Instead for the first time I *understood* that I'm Korean, like the difference between mechanically solving a mathematical problem and actually understanding it. I felt one with my physical form. Toes dug deep in the sand. It passes, of course, like feelings do. But it was the first time of my life I felt whole. Maybe that is because I've never felt at peace with my physical form, and it's mostly been trouble for me. Maybe it's because I've always felt largely different from most people and have combined that with looking different. Maybe because I haven't felt that I really belong, really is in the right place, ever, anywhere. But I cannot deny what I saw and felt, nor the lasting impression it made. It is as if I can hold my head higher now.
So having Belgian blood doesn't make you Belgian, and people taking you for an American doesn't make you American. What does make you what you are then? And does that mean you do not consider yourself Belgian at all? I have always known I am Korean. Just like I have always been one to carefully consider before making an attempt at something - as a child I never crawled; I watched, waited and then walked. Culture, ethnicity, race, call it what you want. I care not for the labels. Does my form matter: yes, it does. It is as important to my identity as my opinions, my routines and my preferences. In fact, parts of those are shaped by my physical form. To take that to it's limit; would I have been the same without my crippled leg? Who knows. Maybe I inherited that from my father. It's not hard to extrapolate that sense of belonging to a people. Why do you feel Swedish, and not, say, just connected to your family line?
If there is only "culture" and no "ethnicity", then what is it I feel when I see people similar to me? Had people told me I was chinese or japanese, I might as well have felt chinese or japanese. I do not claim the ethnicity of Korean, or to ever become. I claim to be a Korean adopted to Sweden, and I claim my right to the full extent of that state of being, and that includes a Korean piece of identity. This isn't a huge intellectual venture. It's a gut feeling, and I've learned that those refuse to be ignored. And I don't think there is such a thing as "genetics alone". The two comes inseparably as far as we can tell, for now at least.
How can genetics play a part in an individual's personality but not on a grander scale? Genes are inherited from our parents, and shared by our siblings, and in extension that means more and more people. Different circumstances will force the expression of the same traits in different ways, and it will become diluted, but I have family over there, they are Korean, their ancestors were Korean. I may have a bit of Chinese or Japanese or Mongol, of course. If I say "they are my people", maybe you could argue me out of it eventually, intellectually. But the fact remains that I came from their blood, from their soil, from their culture.
How can appearance can be a cultural phenomenon? I can see that my hair is black and has a different texture and that my skin has a different tone. I can feel that my nose is different, even if I can't see it. A mirror puts it on the edge but is in no way the limit. Without surroundings, would I care about my form? Humans cannot live without surroundings, as little as we would exist without genetics.
Can we know how much is nature and how much is nurture? No. Not yet, maybe never. So it's difficult to say if any race have traits that are more genetically common. So for now that topic is on hold on a "who knows".
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Emotional scares
1) Up
I was handed the card of a person today, who when I was ten was the most beautiful, fantastic person in the world. Normally I have to make an effort to have feelings, like staring into a running river for ten minutes to get into that feeling of you moving and the river standing still. But with her name black on white, or brown on blue as it were, on a piece of paper between my fingers, I realized it must really have been my first real crush. Because every ounce of me longed to see her again as I scoured the card for a phone number, because my first instinct was that I must call her. Then I realized that A) I couldn't exactly call her and say I really wanted to meet her right now so I could find out what it would be like to hold her hand, or at least so I could fawn over her for an hour or two, and B) I remember her as somewhere between 25 and 30, a football player, eleven years ago. Now I'm terrified of seeing her again, of getting disappointed, and losing that fantastic feeling I had when I was given the card. Terrified of finding out that she isn't that person I thought she was, or that she's uglier than I remember her, or that her voice didn't sound all that awesome and cool. Of losing that one person in my life that that ugly, plain "real world" feeling never got to.
And yet, all the more terrified of losing the card.
On the upside I guess I know what kind of feeling to look for now, when trying to figure out if I'm really into someone.
2) Down
Last night my right shin cramped up real bad. I couldn't figure out which way to stretch it to make it stop, and whatever direction I tried just hurt like hell. Shit happens, and I was half asleep and only half perceiving the pain. When I woke up this morning, however, I had a huge flashback to how the problems began with my left leg, that in the beginning it cramped often, that that was one of the warning signs that eventually led to that I discovered the issue. What if I lost the right leg too? I sigh and whine about one leg, but if I lost the good one, I would barely be able to walk. Probably unable to run at all, ride a bike... I'd fall over easier than an Italian football player. I wouldn't be able to dance. Maybe even end up in a wheelchair, and I'd look fucking terrible and ridiculously top heavy.
Now I'm looking for some kind of adoption service helper thingy. If I'm going to end up locked to a wheelchair, unable to dance, then I need to have been to Korea first. I want to walk the soil I was born from with my own feet.
I was handed the card of a person today, who when I was ten was the most beautiful, fantastic person in the world. Normally I have to make an effort to have feelings, like staring into a running river for ten minutes to get into that feeling of you moving and the river standing still. But with her name black on white, or brown on blue as it were, on a piece of paper between my fingers, I realized it must really have been my first real crush. Because every ounce of me longed to see her again as I scoured the card for a phone number, because my first instinct was that I must call her. Then I realized that A) I couldn't exactly call her and say I really wanted to meet her right now so I could find out what it would be like to hold her hand, or at least so I could fawn over her for an hour or two, and B) I remember her as somewhere between 25 and 30, a football player, eleven years ago. Now I'm terrified of seeing her again, of getting disappointed, and losing that fantastic feeling I had when I was given the card. Terrified of finding out that she isn't that person I thought she was, or that she's uglier than I remember her, or that her voice didn't sound all that awesome and cool. Of losing that one person in my life that that ugly, plain "real world" feeling never got to.
And yet, all the more terrified of losing the card.
On the upside I guess I know what kind of feeling to look for now, when trying to figure out if I'm really into someone.
2) Down
Last night my right shin cramped up real bad. I couldn't figure out which way to stretch it to make it stop, and whatever direction I tried just hurt like hell. Shit happens, and I was half asleep and only half perceiving the pain. When I woke up this morning, however, I had a huge flashback to how the problems began with my left leg, that in the beginning it cramped often, that that was one of the warning signs that eventually led to that I discovered the issue. What if I lost the right leg too? I sigh and whine about one leg, but if I lost the good one, I would barely be able to walk. Probably unable to run at all, ride a bike... I'd fall over easier than an Italian football player. I wouldn't be able to dance. Maybe even end up in a wheelchair, and I'd look fucking terrible and ridiculously top heavy.
Now I'm looking for some kind of adoption service helper thingy. If I'm going to end up locked to a wheelchair, unable to dance, then I need to have been to Korea first. I want to walk the soil I was born from with my own feet.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Mirror Mirror On The Wall...
I dreamed something tonight that I can't really remember anymore, but I loved it and I woke up with a sense of confidence. I managed to shower and do hair and make-up together with my usual morning routine in the same amount of time, and when I stood there, all gussied up in front of the mirror, I though "I should cut my hair myself, instead of going to a salon and paying money for a hairstyle I don't want. I'll do it right now." And I fetched the scissors, but then remembered how much time it takes just to cut the bangs, and left the scissors there as I went to work.
I came home, saw the scissors, and cut my hair. It took quite some time. Showered, dressed up, fixed my hair, although to my great disappointment there was no wax or gel in the house so it only went so-so, and put on party-style make-up - and more. And looked myself in the mirror and thought:
"I'm Korean."
I cut it according to one of the styles Jaejoong have had his hair, as I remembered it in my head (I've compared it now and it's pretty good to be from memory) and put on my Korean jewelry, and did the make-up as I saw a Chinese girl do on YouTube. I dunno what the difference is, really, but...
I look like all those people I've been watching on YouTube, the strange black-haired, almond-eyed ones. I look like him; like JaeJoong. I feel like I found my roots and was torn out of the ground at the same time. God what have I done? Why did I cut my hair like his, why did I put on make-up like this, what will people think? What will they see? Am I the Swede pretending to be Korean or the Korean pretending to be a Swede? Who am I?
But the mirror answered well enough. Korean.
I came home, saw the scissors, and cut my hair. It took quite some time. Showered, dressed up, fixed my hair, although to my great disappointment there was no wax or gel in the house so it only went so-so, and put on party-style make-up - and more. And looked myself in the mirror and thought:
"I'm Korean."
I cut it according to one of the styles Jaejoong have had his hair, as I remembered it in my head (I've compared it now and it's pretty good to be from memory) and put on my Korean jewelry, and did the make-up as I saw a Chinese girl do on YouTube. I dunno what the difference is, really, but...
I look like all those people I've been watching on YouTube, the strange black-haired, almond-eyed ones. I look like him; like JaeJoong. I feel like I found my roots and was torn out of the ground at the same time. God what have I done? Why did I cut my hair like his, why did I put on make-up like this, what will people think? What will they see? Am I the Swede pretending to be Korean or the Korean pretending to be a Swede? Who am I?
But the mirror answered well enough. Korean.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Morning extravaganza
I'm waking up about fifteen to thirty minutes ahead of the alarm now, be it because I've gotten used to it, because it's too bright outside, or because the bed sucks. In any case it meant this morning I had extra time and took a peek at the fanfiction I ran into about my dear Korean boys. I read about a page and then took a solemn vow to never read any fanficion about them ever again. Not because it was bad - on the scale of fanfics I've read it scored rather high in both spelling and story - but because it felt just as wrong as reading fanficition about your friends, without the accompanying hilarity. Instead I've found a subbed Japanese drama series starring my favorite one of them that will satisfy my daily dose of coolness and beauty.
Also, in accordance with the Korean language being prettier than Japanese, the Korean music scene better than the Japanese, and the Korean food tastier than the Japanese (barely), I have now found that the female Korean celebrities are prettier than the Japanese. I do believe I am turning more Korean by these last few years of culture indulgence of both countries - I am slowly coming to love Korea and in particular in comparison with Japan, the two most Korean traits of all. In all but two issues: Korea still has issues with gender equality (i.s.s.u.e.s) and with censorship (the line "I've got you under my skin" in a song was too sexual to be aired on radio -_-). But I'm not sure Japan can be said to be any better with the gender stuff, and them being more leisurely about sex counts only to the benefit that Korean singers can go over there to show off some extra butt once in a while.
IMPORTANT NOTICE
Both the Republic of Korea and the Democratic People's Republic of Korea are in the football World Championship, albeit in different groups - perhaps for the best. Thus far the South are better off within their group, but North plays their second game right now. It's nice to not have Sweden in, because it means no Zlatan, and that I can officially focus all my nationalistic pride on Korea for once. Alas, in this WC, I am crossing my fingers for that South does better than North, that's all I ask. And I hereby request all those unaffiliated with either country to do the same, for me ^^
And yes, it's North Korea that calls itself "the Democratic People's Republic".
IGNORE THE TIMESTAMP ON THIS IT IS WRONG! LOL CAPS! O.o
Also, in accordance with the Korean language being prettier than Japanese, the Korean music scene better than the Japanese, and the Korean food tastier than the Japanese (barely), I have now found that the female Korean celebrities are prettier than the Japanese. I do believe I am turning more Korean by these last few years of culture indulgence of both countries - I am slowly coming to love Korea and in particular in comparison with Japan, the two most Korean traits of all. In all but two issues: Korea still has issues with gender equality (i.s.s.u.e.s) and with censorship (the line "I've got you under my skin" in a song was too sexual to be aired on radio -_-). But I'm not sure Japan can be said to be any better with the gender stuff, and them being more leisurely about sex counts only to the benefit that Korean singers can go over there to show off some extra butt once in a while.
IMPORTANT NOTICE
Both the Republic of Korea and the Democratic People's Republic of Korea are in the football World Championship, albeit in different groups - perhaps for the best. Thus far the South are better off within their group, but North plays their second game right now. It's nice to not have Sweden in, because it means no Zlatan, and that I can officially focus all my nationalistic pride on Korea for once. Alas, in this WC, I am crossing my fingers for that South does better than North, that's all I ask. And I hereby request all those unaffiliated with either country to do the same, for me ^^
And yes, it's North Korea that calls itself "the Democratic People's Republic".
IGNORE THE TIMESTAMP ON THIS IT IS WRONG! LOL CAPS! O.o
Friday, July 24, 2009
I wouldn't recognize my mother if she walked past me on the street...
I had a mental breakdown a day or two ago because I watched one of those tv-shows where they find people for other people who have lost them. They helped a taiwanese guy adopted to sweden find his birthmother. Those shows are really tear-tweaking and I tend to avoid them. But it was decent, and they found her of course, and whatever. Then, when it ended, I realized that the guy had had a picture. Someone had given him a picture of his mother when they sent him off to Sweden. And my head started raving about why the fuck didn't I have a picture, who the hell sends a kid off to the other side of the world without one single line back to their home?
Why didn't they give me a picture?
But I think it's healthy. This is the first time I'm really, really angry at the whole thing; the country, my parents, the people working these things both there and in sweden, even in part my adoptive parents. I think being angry is good. Because I should be. It's the first time I'm thinking; I was damned well worth a picture. I'm damned well worth to be really, really angry.
Why didn't they give me a picture?
But I think it's healthy. This is the first time I'm really, really angry at the whole thing; the country, my parents, the people working these things both there and in sweden, even in part my adoptive parents. I think being angry is good. Because I should be. It's the first time I'm thinking; I was damned well worth a picture. I'm damned well worth to be really, really angry.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Tongue
Orenmanieyo - It's been a long time!
My Korean is progressing, if not at all at the pace it would with actual real lessons. Self-learning does appeal to me in many ways, though. The optimal would perhaps be to just know someone personally to ask if you have questions.
Anyway, I do love languages. I had my sights on something like Japanese or Arabic before, but I like Korean better and better, even disregarding the fluff. I love the sounds and the way people look when they speak it and the way it makes perfect sense even thinking through the filter of western grammars once you cut through the initial layer of prejudice. I'm not going to pretend it's easy, but what language is, really? One of the hardest part is how f***ing fast they talk natively. I mean, French doesn't stand a chance. Another complicating factor is that I briefly studied Japanese not long ago, and tend to mix up words sometimes. Not because they sound alike, because they don't. I actually have no idea why. I guess they have similar base sounds or something.
Having listened to, say, the same song in both Korean and Japanese, though, I can officially state that Korean is a much more beautiful language. And whether or not it could prove useful to me I will learn it. And when I know enough to survive (vague term, right? but I know what I mean, you I don't bother about) I will go to Korea. Maybe find my family? Maybe.
My Korean is progressing, if not at all at the pace it would with actual real lessons. Self-learning does appeal to me in many ways, though. The optimal would perhaps be to just know someone personally to ask if you have questions.
Anyway, I do love languages. I had my sights on something like Japanese or Arabic before, but I like Korean better and better, even disregarding the fluff. I love the sounds and the way people look when they speak it and the way it makes perfect sense even thinking through the filter of western grammars once you cut through the initial layer of prejudice. I'm not going to pretend it's easy, but what language is, really? One of the hardest part is how f***ing fast they talk natively. I mean, French doesn't stand a chance. Another complicating factor is that I briefly studied Japanese not long ago, and tend to mix up words sometimes. Not because they sound alike, because they don't. I actually have no idea why. I guess they have similar base sounds or something.
Having listened to, say, the same song in both Korean and Japanese, though, I can officially state that Korean is a much more beautiful language. And whether or not it could prove useful to me I will learn it. And when I know enough to survive (vague term, right? but I know what I mean, you I don't bother about) I will go to Korea. Maybe find my family? Maybe.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Worldly comments
In other news: North Korea has agreed to allow nuclear inspections, which means the US no longer automatically considers them terrorists. Yay.
In less globaly and politically relevant news: Swedish Idol for the first time sports a participant of Asian descent who can. actually. sing. Wow. I was just starting to wonder if Asians were too smart and stuck up to sing.
Gaming comments: I've been playing a lot of different PSP games lately. FF:Crisis Core is, of course, a favorite and, thankfully, everything but a disappointment. But I actually want to bring some attention to a game I did not expect to enjoy; The Godfather. I mean, what could have been another horrible transportation from movie to handheld game turned out not only keeping the original's manlyness and tone, but also having excellent gameplay and lots of value. Tumbs up for EA.
In less globaly and politically relevant news: Swedish Idol for the first time sports a participant of Asian descent who can. actually. sing. Wow. I was just starting to wonder if Asians were too smart and stuck up to sing.
Gaming comments: I've been playing a lot of different PSP games lately. FF:Crisis Core is, of course, a favorite and, thankfully, everything but a disappointment. But I actually want to bring some attention to a game I did not expect to enjoy; The Godfather. I mean, what could have been another horrible transportation from movie to handheld game turned out not only keeping the original's manlyness and tone, but also having excellent gameplay and lots of value. Tumbs up for EA.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
The land of opportunities
I'll actually continue a bit on the last subject, because I've been thinking a lot about it since I wrote. I've read a lot of stuff, Korean language, history, culture - and viewpoints about adoption coming from both Korea and Sweden. It gives me a growing feeling of that I've unknowlingly chosen to ignore a large part of my life.
Here's some facts that can't be denied:
Many adopted Koreans return to live in Korea when they're adults. Many of those never feel at home there either.
Suicide is considerably much more common in people adopted into another etnicity than their born one.
Korea still gives up thousands of children for adoption even as their economy is now well above the average line. Adoption within the borders are very uncommon. They make millions off foreign adoptions every year.
Korean culture still carries the remnants of a time where an unmarried woman could not have a child. Most children up for adoption come from single mothers.
Sweden adopts many more children from Asian countries than others, like Africa.
There is a strong feeling of sitting between chairs, so to speak. For some reason I'm not yet at the point of being angry, or even accusing, of Korea. Maybe because I've recently read about how rough the road has been for her. But she gives many opportunities. I'm slightly less inclined to give Sweden the nice treatment. Have anyone ever informed parents or the people working with adoption about the skyrocketing suicide rates, about the feeling of sitting between chairs? Sure, it's better than leaving children starving on the streets. But kids in Korea are hardly starving on the streets anymore.
I met the other Korean girl I talked about. We just had a night on town, and as if fate intervened we ran into a group of Korean tourists. They were exalted about every little thing we had to say, though the hardly spoke english. Apparantly I have the same name as a famous Korean singer. They asked who we were, where we were from. My friend knew the Korean word for adopted. All the women of the group said "aaaahhh," and tilted their heads. I got the distict feeling they felt sorry for us.
Maybe they should.
Here's some facts that can't be denied:
Many adopted Koreans return to live in Korea when they're adults. Many of those never feel at home there either.
Suicide is considerably much more common in people adopted into another etnicity than their born one.
Korea still gives up thousands of children for adoption even as their economy is now well above the average line. Adoption within the borders are very uncommon. They make millions off foreign adoptions every year.
Korean culture still carries the remnants of a time where an unmarried woman could not have a child. Most children up for adoption come from single mothers.
Sweden adopts many more children from Asian countries than others, like Africa.
There is a strong feeling of sitting between chairs, so to speak. For some reason I'm not yet at the point of being angry, or even accusing, of Korea. Maybe because I've recently read about how rough the road has been for her. But she gives many opportunities. I'm slightly less inclined to give Sweden the nice treatment. Have anyone ever informed parents or the people working with adoption about the skyrocketing suicide rates, about the feeling of sitting between chairs? Sure, it's better than leaving children starving on the streets. But kids in Korea are hardly starving on the streets anymore.
I met the other Korean girl I talked about. We just had a night on town, and as if fate intervened we ran into a group of Korean tourists. They were exalted about every little thing we had to say, though the hardly spoke english. Apparantly I have the same name as a famous Korean singer. They asked who we were, where we were from. My friend knew the Korean word for adopted. All the women of the group said "aaaahhh," and tilted their heads. I got the distict feeling they felt sorry for us.
Maybe they should.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Korean
I've been watching the Olympics. No, I won't ramble about sports and stuff. What I will ramble about is nationality and identity. See, these laste six or eight months I've been feeling myself changing a lot on a certain point. Confidence. And within that lies the fact that I've changed attitude to myself being Korean.
Before I've always ignored it. Seriously. As a child I avoided mirrors. When people pointed it out or asked questions I just turned my head off and answered blank statements that I'd learned from listening to mom. I kept myself completely, utterly neutral to the fact and held it at arm's length. It didn't exactly damage me. No one ever made me do it. I just chose to not handle it at all. (Being made easier by the fact that I've been lucky enough to never have encounteder racism.)
This christmas I met an old man who had been everywhere and met everyone and had had four wives. He was always blunt to the point of rudeness. As soon as he saw me he started talking about that I should go to Korea and find my biological parents. I got angry, actually, but he just kept talking about how nice Korea was and how beautiful the women were and how they all spoke english so I wouldn't have a problem speaking to them. (Not true, as I've found out, the english that is.)
But it got my head going, and the more I thought, the more I felt... maybe. Maybe I should. Another guy at school, also unafraid of speaking his mind, had a theory that the bond between mother and child the first few weeks or months are very important, life-defining. I asked him face to face if he thought being adopted disrupted that and he said yes. People around got uncomfortable, but the oddity that struck me when he said it, was that I agreed.
And this week put two more nails in the coffin, so to speak. For one I watched the Olympics, and the nationalism is always as strongest in sports. I got to see more Korean people than I have in my entire life, and somehow as I saw them, something clicked into place. Just the way they looked and moved. This is my people too. And then I talked to another adopted Korean who have found her family and spoken to them over the phone. They don't speak english, but they talk to her anyway, for some reason. And I felt, as I listened to her story, that it could be me.
It is biologically in our blood, isn't it. The feeling when we stand side by side with someone who shares our genes and our faces and look into the mirror, seeing the ghosts of two of ourselves. And people who have lived with that their entire lives, do you understand it? What you get? I didn't. Not until now, when I'm starting to wonder;
Can you ever replace family?
Before I've always ignored it. Seriously. As a child I avoided mirrors. When people pointed it out or asked questions I just turned my head off and answered blank statements that I'd learned from listening to mom. I kept myself completely, utterly neutral to the fact and held it at arm's length. It didn't exactly damage me. No one ever made me do it. I just chose to not handle it at all. (Being made easier by the fact that I've been lucky enough to never have encounteder racism.)
This christmas I met an old man who had been everywhere and met everyone and had had four wives. He was always blunt to the point of rudeness. As soon as he saw me he started talking about that I should go to Korea and find my biological parents. I got angry, actually, but he just kept talking about how nice Korea was and how beautiful the women were and how they all spoke english so I wouldn't have a problem speaking to them. (Not true, as I've found out, the english that is.)
But it got my head going, and the more I thought, the more I felt... maybe. Maybe I should. Another guy at school, also unafraid of speaking his mind, had a theory that the bond between mother and child the first few weeks or months are very important, life-defining. I asked him face to face if he thought being adopted disrupted that and he said yes. People around got uncomfortable, but the oddity that struck me when he said it, was that I agreed.
And this week put two more nails in the coffin, so to speak. For one I watched the Olympics, and the nationalism is always as strongest in sports. I got to see more Korean people than I have in my entire life, and somehow as I saw them, something clicked into place. Just the way they looked and moved. This is my people too. And then I talked to another adopted Korean who have found her family and spoken to them over the phone. They don't speak english, but they talk to her anyway, for some reason. And I felt, as I listened to her story, that it could be me.
It is biologically in our blood, isn't it. The feeling when we stand side by side with someone who shares our genes and our faces and look into the mirror, seeing the ghosts of two of ourselves. And people who have lived with that their entire lives, do you understand it? What you get? I didn't. Not until now, when I'm starting to wonder;
Can you ever replace family?
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