Ryan,

Thank you for writing so openly and honestly on a topic that’s often not talked about. Your beach story reminded me of an incident a few years ago when I visited Paris with my daughter and nieces. We were at the Louvre when a couple of school kids walked by, pointed at me, and said something to each other in that all too familiar, stereotypical sing-songy Asian voice. One of boys clapped his hands together and bowed at me repeatedly as his group moved on. It caught me off guard because I hadn’t been “called out” for my race like that (at least to my face) in years. And I was slightly embarrassed because it happened in front of my then 15 year old daughter. After missing a beat, I looked at the boys and said, “Hey, what’s up? How you doing?” Who knows what they thought, if anything, after that.

I was adopted from a South Korean orphanage when I was 5, so I guess I would be considered an FOB. (I’ve never heard this term but it could be because I’m much older) My parents are Caucasian (with Polish-Anglo ancestry) which I’m sure accounted for my learning English quickly and without a trace of accent. Interestingly, in grade school I was the model student. I excelled in school, did soccer and acrobatics and made friends fairly easily. I was proud to be a good student. When I was younger, the kids asked if I was Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, Indian (at that time they meant Native American), and even Mexican. In all honesty, at that time my self esteem was pretty high, so none of that really bothered me.

When I got to middle school, I became aware (from being told) that Asians were the “model minority.” Does anyone else remember this phrase? I understood that being a model minority meant we were rule followers, respectful, hard working, good at math. A model minority did not: rock the boat, step outside the box, care about being cool, start a rock band, wear crazy clothes, challenge the establishment. I found myself not raising my hand in class like I used to, for fear I would prove right a stereotype adults assumed I wanted. I let my grades slip, quit soccer, joined cross country, hated it, and made social life my priority. In my quest to rail against a label I felt challenged my American-ness, I unwittingly gave others dominion over my identity. My self-esteem plummeted, as my grades and actions proved I was no longer part of the model minority, and yet my very appearance proved I was decidedly not American.

When I was a sophomore in high school, two boys sat behind me in biology and called me chink, gook and Jap whenever they could. One said, “You know, my dad fought gooks like you in Vietnam.” Never mind that I wasn’t from Vietnam, or that I wasn’t even a twinkle in my biological parents’ eyes during the war. I let that period destroy me for a bit, but looking back it reminded me that the bigotry I faced then and still do on occasion now is but a tiny speck of what others in the world face daily. Now that I’m much older, I can see how atrocities of old linger and leave their stain on generations down the line.

It’s interesting to me now how much I recoiled at the thought of being a “model minority”. All those characteristics I pushed away in my youth in my effort to assimilate I welcome and admire now. When I was younger, people would actually say, “Wow, you speak English so well. You don’t even have an accent.” Now I know that if I grew up speaking Korean, I might have a slight accent but I’d have the gift of my native tongue, something both my very American girls have expressed a desire to learn.

As you stated so well, past history often perpetuates bias among communities, even if the bias isn’t “right”. Prejudice and racism has always existed in some capacity since the beginning of time, as has the push for assimilation and the tribal desire to belong.

So long as we’re human, we’re fallible. But so long as we’re human, we’re capable of recognizing our fallibility and making amends.

Thank you for your thought-provoking article. I’m sorry for the length of my response. You hit on a topic I didn’t realize I had buried. That you’re aware and willing to engage in honest and open reflection and dialogue about prejudice and racism within all communities is a sign of hope for our future. Thank goodness we have teachers like you.

All the best,

Kari