People!  In this day and age, I have no idea how it’s so difficult to differentiate between the two, but apparently it’s a problem.  And it shouldn’t be a problem, seeing as how your grandparents probably fought and lived through the Korean War.  The conversation usually starts out like this (This is the abridged convo.  For the real convo, read here).
 
“Where are you from?”  …
“No, where are you from from?”
 
I say, “I’m from from Korea.”
 
“Man, that Kim Jong Un is crazy.  What’s up with that?” 
 
If you are still dumbfounded by how this statement pretty much sums up your existence in a bubble, please understand that I am also dumbfounded - by you.  So here is a super fast, abridged edumacation of what happened on that east Asian peninsula. 
 
When Japanese occupation of Korea ceased at the end of WWII, Korea got caught up in the Cold War conflict with the US and Soviet Union.  The country was divided at the 38th parallel, a line roughly in the middle, with two spheres of influence.  The Americans controlled the South, and the Soviets established a communist regime in the North, whose influence they later ceded to China.   
 
In 1950, the North surprise attacked the South and took most of the country, before the UN (and mainly America) intervened.  By the time an armistice was signed three years later, millions had died, and the dividing line ended up being what it had previously been – the 38th Parallel.  And that is the line that separates the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (aka North Korea) and the Republic of Korea (South Korea).
 
For many Koreans, the dream of a unified Korea is still prevalent today.  After all, they share a history of oppression, a language, and their ancestry.  However, North Korea remains a police state, which has been ruled by the same family for three generations.  Kim Jong Un is the grandson of the original Supreme leader of North Korea, Kim Il Sung.
 
So when people say they are from from Korea, they typically mean South Korea – the country you can leave, the country that has internet, and the country you’re allowed to visit without a state sanctioned escort following you around and lying to you about everything you see, i.e. don’t see. 

I get it, people, I'm Yellow! You get reminded of something enough, you start to believe it. If I'm yellow, I must not be American. I mean, why else would everyone assume I'm not from here? In my case, as an adoptee, I am an "import." So do I really have the right to say I am from here?  But doesn't nurture have a lot to do with who I am? What makes someone American?

Doubt.
Down.
More Doubt.

Maybe I'm more Korean than I know. Maybe the people whose yellowness I resemble are more like me. So I go on the the big bad www and start researching my so-called motherland.  These are my first two hits!

#FilterMySearchCriteria
​#FUJeSuisAmericaine

It's so crazy when you think there are so many like me, and by that, I mean, Korean adoptees.  It's like we have this invisible string tying us all together in this journey.  And I would hate to think anyone would ever feel so alone that they would think the only way out is to end it all.  I think the last estimate of Korean kids adopted by Americans was at about 150,000.  That's crazy amazing.  You're most definitely not alone.  There is a whole community that understands what you're going through.  We started our journey in the same place, got scattered, and I'd like to think we'll all find each other again.  

Here's what inspired this video (koreanamericanstory.org):

September is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. Adoptees are four times more likely to attempt suicide than non-adoptees. To help raise awareness on the topic of mental health and adoptees, KoreanAmericanStory.org will roll out a special series of the Legacy Project – the Love/Hate Project – which will feature interviews with Korean American adoptees.

In commemoration of National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month and, as a precursor to the Love/Hate Project, in collaboration with IAMadoptee, we present the first of two short videos which we hope will help the broader community to better understand the experience of being a Korean American adoptee.  We also aspire to send the message to all adoptees, that you are not alone.

• If you are in crisis or are experiencing difficult or suicidal thoughts, call the National Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273 TALK (8255)

• If you’re uncomfortable talking on the phone, you can also text NAMI to 741-741 to be connected to a free, trained crisis counselor on the Crisis Text Line.

​This was a comment on FB in response to our post about how heritage seems to matter so much to Americans: 
 
“Personally, as long as you're here legally, don't expect me to pay your rent, and don't want to blow me up, you're good.” – Brad (last name omitted)
 
I’m just flabbergasted.  I literally have no words.  Thanks, Brad, thank you so much.  I’m so honored that you’re “good” with letting me stay in this wonderfully diverse and open-minded country.  

Help. 
 
Guys, I’ve lost faith.  I need some guidance. 
 
So, I’m spying on my ex online and looking at all the photos of him and his new girlfriend of the month.  Let me just preface this by saying my ex is white.  Doesn’t matter to me.  I like all varieties.  He’s just someone I clicked with and thought I loved at some point. 
 
The politically correct me does not want to be like this, but the internal me is winning on this one.  Seriously, WTF?!  The past three girlfriends after me have been some variation of Asian.  And though I know I shouldn’t be thinking it, I can’t help but not think it.  Does he have yellow fever?  
 
Was I just another notch on his yellow train?  Here I was thinking I was something special, unique, individual, that he liked me for me … but I can’t help but feel I was some sort of fetish, some yellow commodity.  And I can’t get it out of my mind.  It makes me feel horrible … creepy crawly horrible.  
 
If there was a black or brown or white girl interspersed in there, I might feel better, you know?  But they’re all Asian.  And the girlfriend before me was also Asian, according to a girl he went to high school with (and who I accosted online).  Yes I know I’m sounding very stalker-ish, but this blog is meant as an outlet.   And, if anything, I pride myself on being honest, sometimes disturbingly so, so cut me some slack. 
 
I feel yellow.  Like a big fat mass of yellow.  And I can’t snap out of it.

Can't handle their liquor.  I'm not convinced I was imported from there.  

​Yes I’m doing it.  It’s the dreaded “Where are you from?”  It’s probably the question that makes all of us Asians vomit a little in our mouths every time we hear it.  And I’m not generalizing here.  Every single Asian in America has been asked this question.  And the conversation will almost always go like this. 
 
“Where are you from?”
 
The Asian person answers, “New York.”  (or some other city or town in America, yes the United States).
 
“No, where are you from, from?”
 
By this you mean, “Where are your ancestors from?”  To be cheeky and hopefully shut that person up, I often say, “Monkeys.”  Sometimes it stops there, cause the person asking has some semblance of sympatico with the human race and understands the inherent flaw in the question.
 
Sometimes you’re just dense and ask again.  Oh, I’m sorry, you meant, “Where are my parents from?”  Well, seeing as I’m adopted, I usually say, “My dad’s from New York and my mom’s from the burbs.”  This is usually followed by the are-you-dense stare, and then I have to say, “My parents are white.  I’m adopted.”  That answers the question of where my parents are from from (cause obviously white people are from from America).  But this won’t stop them finding out where I’m from from.  So they ask the question again.  And this doesn’t just happen to adoptees, mind you.  It happens to the lot of us.  They ask the question in another way to clarify an already tired situation.   
 
“I mean what is your heritage?” 
 
This is the new one I’m hearing a lot now.  Apparently, the “Where are you from?” has gotten so much heat behind it, this is the P.C. one to say (though politically correctness in and of itself exists as a way to recognize and not say the racist thing you meant to say … another topic for another day).  This phrasing is meant to minimize offense.  But does it? 
 
Are we being over-sensitive toward a well-intentioned curiosity?  You’re just trying to find out how we got here, right?  I mean, because we’re yellow, we definitely didn’t originate in America, right?  We must’ve come on a boat at some point.  Well news flash.  Unless you’re Native American, you came on a boat too.  
 
Further, just because you’ve visited Asia a few times and you think you can recognize where people are from by their facial features, doesn’t mean you deserve a pat on the back.  Do you know how many times I’ve been asked a variation of the dreaded question, the variation being, “You’re Japanese right?”  In all seriousness, do you think that by guessing my “heritage” you are somehow showing me how culturally aware you are?  All you’re pointing out to me is that I look different, and you couldn’t help but notice.  (Let’s not even go into the inherent racism in that comment, which implies all people from the same countries look alike). 
 
The answer to this question usually depends on my mood.  Sometimes I answer, “Hai,” which is “yes” in Japanese and confuse the shit out of them (mainly for my amusement).  Sometimes I just shorten the inevitable and say, “No, Korean.”  And the response is often “Awww, so close!”  Seriously.   
 
And sometimes, ding ding ding.  You guess right and ask, “You’re Korean, right?”  If I’m not in the mood, I’ll just answer “Yes.” (And yes, it’s cause it’s tiring, and I just want the conversation to end.  Well done world, the fight in me has left the building).   This is usually followed by an ecstatic, “I knew it!”  Nothing to be happy about though.  What do you know?  All you know is that you think you’re worldly somehow, cause you can differentiate the various shades of Asian.  All you know is what you don’t know.  That you are separating you from me. 

Goes without saying ...

Okay, so I’ve been getting a bit of flak about my blog from some haters, saying “I know a lot of Asians.  They don’t have this opinion.”  Because you read minds?  And you really know what their opinions are, right?  Did you ever stop and think they may not be voicing their opinion to you?  And no, it’s not because we’re submissive or non-confrontational.  It’s actually because we can’t be bothered to clue yet another person in on his/her so called, "well intentioned" myopia. 
 
But wait, the commentary goes further.  “Can I be completely honest?”  Are you ever not speaking out?  “A lot of top jobs are held by Asians.  Take my doctor, for instance.  In fact, all the Asians at my kid’s school are getting the top honors.  My kids are the ones at a disadvantage!”  (Mind you, the written word doesn’t do vocal inflections justice.  So I will have to parenthesize this by saying the exclamation is there to dilute the blatant racist comment you made with the implied, “I’m kidding.”) 
 
So this is positive, right? You’re saying all Asians are smart and good at school.  No, because it’s still a stereotype. Whether you like it or not, positive stereotypes are also there to make a giant population of people continue to feel other.  Regardless of intent, a stereotype exists to separate.  Not all of us Asians want to be doctors, lawyers and go into finance.  Hell, ask my mom about my report card!  I was certainly not on the honor roll.
 
So next time you’re at a restaurant and the bill comes, please don’t turn to your token Asian friend and ask, “What’s the tip?”  Not all of us are math geniuses or in IT.  

Can't just sit round waiting for something to change. What will the kids be saying about us in half a century? Hopefully not this. Let's progress people.