It has been only within the last few years that I have come to the realization that I am Asian. Maybe that sounds hard to believe. After all, if I look in the mirror everyday, how could I not notice? But it is true that throughout my entire childhood, my ethnicity was always in the back of my mind. I never felt out of place in any setting, or at least not because of my “Asianess”. I never found myself comparing how I looked with those of other races, or other Asians. To clarify, I am Korean-American. But, five years ago, if you had asked me how I identify, I probably would not have included the former. 

My dad is Korean and I was not sheltered from that half of myself growing up. We made trips to H-Mart, listened to Korean music, and ate at Korean restaurants. Though these practices were all enjoyable, they did not resonate with me as being a part of my culture. It did not feel foreign, just not mine. Whenever I saw myself, in pictures or in the mirror, I did not think I looked part Asian at all. I thought, though I did not call it this and it was not my desire, that “I passed”. Of course, looking back, I did not. I am still not fully sure what caused this blindness. But I think it has to do with the fact that I did not know many Asians growing up, so my exposure to other Asians was often through the media, which is full of monolids, accents, and parents with high standards for their kids. Because I have none of those, I couldn’t see that in myself. My neighborhood is quite diverse, as was my elementary school, but I didn’t have any Asian friends or neighbors. I still don’t, even now that I go to a different school. My lack of Asian friends impacted my self identity because these practices weren’t mirrored anywhere else. I don’t speak Korean either. When I asked my dad why he didn’t speak it while I was growing up, he had no particular reason. 

My earliest memory of being something “more than American” is from elementary school, when I was in the bathroom with other girls and we were all looking in the mirror. They were pulling up the corners of their eyes because that is what they deemed Asian. My eyes are not monolid, but I still felt like a part of my culture was being made fun of. As a kid, I didn’t quite know what those girls were doing in the mirror, only that it was somehow an attempt to look like me. That moment stuck with me because it was my first exposure to some sort of cultural appropriation. 

When I went into middle school, the blindness I had was still present. My middle and high school is far less diverse than my elementary school; meaning I still have no Asian friends. I believe this is why I was blind for so long. The summer before seventh grade, I visited Korea for the first time. I felt a deep sense of belonging. A feeling of fitting in without trying. A tourist could pass me in the street and not realize that I was one too. Only if someone heard me talk would they realize I was not from Korea. The visit was one of the best trips of my life. Spending two weeks surrounded by a culture I had not thought much about opened my eyes to that half of myself. Looking back, it is somewhat dispiriting that I did not come to the “I am Asian” realization sooner. If I had, I believe I would have paid more attention to Korean culture throughout my trip. But then again, I was eleven and I had the time of my life, and that is what matters. Most importantly, the trip stuck with me because of that feeling of belonging. And I continue to seek it out where I can. 

The most recent phase of my newly coined “I am Asian” realization occurred at the beginning of this past school year, fall 2021. My English teacher assigned a year-long project, a paper about anything we wanted. I knew I had to pick something I had a real interest in because, otherwise, I would have no motivation and burnout. The Netflix series Squid Game had just come out, and I was feeling a sense of pride for Korea. I recognized that this would make an excellent topic for a paper; how Korean media had spread in such a way. Early on, I learned this concept was called Hallyu, also known as the Korean Wave. So the whole year was spent researching and writing about Hallyu, as well as American consumption of Korean culture. From the beginning, I knew this would be a topic I would be passionate about, and I was right. My choice to write about Korean culture was an important one for my journey of cultural connection. I enjoyed learning more about Korea and being able to talk confidently about its cultural evolution. Writing the final paper felt like I was proving my “Asianess”, the thing I failed to realize I possessed years ago. There was no one I was proving this to, but it felt like a deep-seated feeling I needed to resolve. I know now that if I ever feel like I do not fit in, the solution is to learn. There is no need to force it upon myself or even feel that need to prove myself. If I learn about it, I will feel that connection. 

I am Hapa (a Hawaiian word that is often used to describe someone who is mixed race). Sometimes I do not feel “Asian enough”. I don’t feel “not white enough”, because that is not something I desire. But not feeling Asian enough is hard sometimes because it feels like I don’t really have a community. I do not fit in with white people because I am not white. But, I do not fit in with Korean people because I am not fully Korean. I am in the grey area that is Hapa. But I don’t feel sad about it because then I think about how many people are Hapa and how we all fit in with each other. And more than that, no one ever fully fits in with a part of their identity. Finally, I realized how many Asians try to look more white. From double eyelid surgery to skin whitening to nose jobs. And as much as I do not like these practices, it proves that everyone is just trying to fit in with one culture or another. So it is okay that I am not one hundred percent Korean. I am Korean-American and the way I identify does not take away from the fact that I am Asian. I do not speak Korean, I do not have monolid eyes, I am not the model minority. I do not fit some people’s standards of what is Asian. But so many Koreans do not fit those standards either. Those standards do not matter. What matters is one’s effort to connect to their culture. And the comforting thing is that they are a part of it, whether they fit the standards or not. It took me fifteen years to realize that I am Korean-American and that I will never not be Asian enough.