http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/travel/2001832455_tressay11.html

In Seoul, an epiphany about cultural identity

By Mia Bailey
Special to The Seattle Times

What makes us who we are? Is it culture or blood? Am I American, Korean or
Korean American? While growing up in Boise, I never asked myself these
questions or questioned my nationality or identity.

I was adopted at age 7 with my younger sister, Sonya. My adoptive parents, who
are Caucasian, already had three children: two biological and one son also
adopted from Korea. In Boise, people accepted me without attaching any labels.
I never really thought that I was any different from my Caucasian friends. I
felt that I was American foremost, but I had a strong sense of Korean identity,
which my parents cultivated by having me take Korean dance and language
lessons.

It wasn't until I went to Seoul that I was questioned as to who I was. Koreans
seemed to have a need to label me. I had countless conversations with people
about my identity. I couldn't just be me.

One day, I was riding in a taxi with my brother Kim. We were having a
conversation in English. Hearing us, the driver looked in the rear-view mirror
and asked, "Are you Korean?" I responded, "We are American." The driver looked
astonished and turned to a female passenger sitting in the front. I saw the
lines on his forehead furrow as he considered me through the mirror. "Are your
parents Korean?" I said, "No, they are white." The driver and the female
passenger looked at each other and said nothing.

Another time, I was in a taxi with my friend John. One of my friend's students
was sharing the taxi with us. Shortly after we were under way, the student
turned and said in a firm voice, "You are Korean. You are not American." I
replied, "I am American. I think and act like an American. What makes you say
that I'm Korean?" She responded, "It's because you have Korean blood." My
friend interrupted us at this point. "My parents are German, so does that make
me German?" "No," she replied, "you're American."

I was thoroughly confused by her reasoning. Was it the fact that my friend had
blond hair and blue eyes? For her, my dark hair and almond-shaped eyes didn't
fit the image of a stereotypical American. It was becoming apparent to me how
Koreans viewed what makes us who we are. On another occasion, I was sitting at
a table with three 9-year-old girls, getting ready for a lesson. One student
looked at her friend sitting across from her. "Do you think our teacher is
American?" she asked. The other student thought for a moment and said, "Yes,
she is." At this point, I was smiling to myself. Where would this conversation
lead? The first student looked at the other and replied, "I don't think so. She
doesn't have blue eyes."

There was a time when I had similar views. When I was to become a naturalized
U.S. citizen several years after I was adopted, I asked my mother if I would
look American once I became a citizen. For some reason, I thought the color of
my hair and eyes would change miraculously.

Years later and with the benefit of my experience in Seoul, I believe that what
makes us who we are has more to do with our culture, not our blood. It is
important for people to avoid labels and to look beyond the surface.



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A good friend will come and bail you out of jail . . . but, a true friend will
be sitting next to you saying, "Damn . . . that was fun!"
-----Unknown