May 9th

What's so special about today? Well, maybe nothing. For many, it is back to the grind after a weekend with family, celebrating Mother's day.

Now that is special.

As a child to a young adult, I never gave much thought to Mother's day in the personal sense. Rather, I focused mainly on my mom and tried to find some commercial way of thanking her and telling her I love her. I'm not sure if that was ever enough. Of course, hindsight is 20-20 and I often find myself reflecting upon my experiences of the past and wondering if I've done the right things.

She gave me life. She and my dad gave me the stability and understanding of what love is. What family is. What happiness is. Now, I'm seeking to find a purpose within all of that and live my life to the fullest. So, in some ways, today marks yet another day that I live to fulfill my purpose.

For those of you who have been reading my banter, you may recall the significance of May 9th. It has forever become a day of mystery, a day of mourning, a day of inspiration, and a day of pride. May 9th is the potential day of my birth (not June 18th as I originally practiced), the potential first day of my separation from my once homeland, the documented day of my life as an orphan. Most importantly, it is the supposed day that a woman brought me to Ohsoonjul's babies home in Chuncheon.

So...

Was she my birth mother? Was she just some good Samaritan trying to give me another chance at life? I'll never know, but one thing is for certain...I am eternally grateful to her for making that decision, which could have been the most difficult decision of her life.

Don't cry for me Argentina. You will not find me celebrating with a pity party any time soon and while the idea of two birthdays sounds cool, I'll stick to the one I know, but it is NOT the only one that matters.

How many candles on the cake???

My mid-life dilemna (it's hardly a crisis)

While I've often not considered myself to be a woman of many talents, I'm slowly evolving as an artisan of sweets, and a woman of varying skills, without mastery. Yes, I can boil water, I love to bake, and I can lift more weights than the average person. I can also advise students on cultural adjustment and other life issues, dance until my ass falls off, and take a shotgun "hit" to the abdomen.

Given my random list of skills and interests, I've lately found myself asking "what's my calling?" Could I make a living as a bakery owner? A stunt woman? A consultant of some sort (although what the hell would I teach people)? Who knows. I need some advice. I am currently in about as stable and secure a location as anyone could ask for. While Wisconsin has illustrated the troubling and challenging world of elementary/secondary education, I find myself taking asylum in higher education, which for now is financially secure (at least the institution I work for). Nonetheless, I'm not so sure this is enough.

In many ways and for many reasons, I enjoy what I do. In other ways, I feel like I need more, but what exactly is MORE? How much risk am I willing to take? How do I get there? Where's the finish line? What's my ultimate goal? What are my limitations? Well, if I could answer those questions, I would not be writing this post. :-) Life could certainly be worse...I have a wonderful family, I'm gainfully employed, and I'm taking control of my physical and emotional health. However, I do not want the years to go by and suddenly discover that I missed a major opportunity to try something different. I do not want to live with regrets.

In the past few years (since my mom died), I've often heard my dad talk about how he is trying to find his "purpose." On many occasions, I've thought he was being short-sighted, but I was missing the big picture. We all have a purpose. We all should strive to give meaning to our lives, but that is easier said than done. I have regularly sought advice and guidance from loved ones, but that does not define who I am, nor does it evoke my passions. In this particular instance, I am left to my own devices. I'm in the abyss of life, trying to find my center. I visualize myself in Pan's Labriynth, minus the creepiness factor. I'm hopelessly optimistic about where this road will take me; however, there is also reality.

I guess I need to find my chi...

The Asian "fringe"

That is not me in the picture. That is the beautiful Amerie (fellow Korean/Black woman). Of course, that is not important, but for the purposes of this post, her hair is.

So as I mentioned in one of my previous posts, I tend to re-create myself from time to time. In this case, I took myself back in time, circa 1988. While it has often been a staple look for many Asians, the fringe (also known as bangs) has not been a regular part of my hair lineup. In fact, having thick, curly hair has made that less than desirable, but what the hell, time to try something new, right?

Back in the 80s, when everyone had big, obnoxious, ridiculous-looking hair, it was ok for me to sport my "frollet"-Fro/mullet and still look a bit stylish. That is no longer the case, even though I do live in New Jersey (lol). So, when I went to my hairdresser, I noticed she was sporting some long, trendy bangs. I told her I liked how they look and she suggested that I try them out. So, I took the plunge. The response has generally been positive and they are growing on me. Of course, I have those moments when I feel like I'm constantly pushing the fringe off my face and I worry about the cruel return of my adolescent acne, but I'll get over it.

I am not the type to go fishing for comments and people rarely comment on my appearance (because I tend not to make drastic changes). However, oddly enough, people have commented that the fringe make me look more Asian. I'm not sure if it is the straightness of the fringe, the masking of my forehead, or the focus on my eyes. Regardless, I certainly find those comments interesting.

Step 1 of the Korean/Asian reunification process-go BACK to Korea. Check.
Step 2 of the Korean/Asian reunification process-eat and enjoy Korean food as regularly as possible. Check.
Step 3 of the Korean/Asian reunification process-Rock the fringe. Check.
Step 4 of the Korean/Asian reunification process-maintain my double eyelids, brown skin, and curly hair, all of which are inherently NOT Korean/Asian. Check. Check. Check.


Hmmm...maybe I'll try going blonde next time.

A mother in the mix

I was compelled to write this post after watching the documentary "Babies" recently. The documentary chronicled the early development of four babies in Tokyo, Mongolia, San Francisco, and Namibia. Not only was it a fascinating glimpse into the life of families worldwide, it gave me a valuable opportunity to relate the global experience of parenting to my own experience.

Upon reading some of my previous posts, you already know or may have learned that I'm a mother. I'm not just a mother; rather, I'm the mother of a toddler who resembles me...looks like me, is stubborn like me (my husband can attest to this), laughs like me, and loves like me. Nature and (not just vs.) nurture. That, my friends, is the JOY of genetics. The joy of motherhood. A joy many have enjoyed before me, a joy many take for granted, and a joy I lived without for a long time.

As someone who, for many years swore she would not have children, I've seen the light. Now, that does not mean everyone should have children, it simply means that I have the personal pleasure of reveling in the experience of caring for a little life that my husband and I created. A life that is biologically linked to me. A life that shares my blood, my history, my identity, and my genetic code. While some of those facts are tangible without the matching DNA (I'm living proof-see my previous post), it is the biological partnership that will, over time, greatly define my relationship with my child. It is my life's work, my love, my legacy.

Given the type of woman I am, I must admit that being pregnant was not my finest hour. Fortunately, I did not have any major complications, I just was not the greatest fan of being a nausea-ridden, heartburn-suffering vessel for 10 months. Of course, I am oversimplifying quite a bit and I certainly miss the belly-rubbing, and marathon kicks, but hindsight is 20-20, isn't it? Yes, but that is not the point.

I've been asked from time to time if I wonder where I get my looks from...my curly hair, my almond-shaped eyes, my height, etc. The answer? I'm not really sure. Not a day goes by that I don't ponder the answers to those questions. It might happen when I'm taking my morning shower, when I'm sitting in a (useless) meeting, or when I'm eating dinner. The (sometimes) harsh reality of those questions is that I have less than a 1% chance of ever getting concrete answers. This past summer was a long-awaited, cathartic leap into my ongoing journey in the identity crusade. I'm not interested in (or emotionally prepared for) a birth family search. What was once a badge of hurt and despair, has now become a badge of honor, courage, and hope. It will be with me for life, and I wear it proudly.

My growing concern as a mother is the road that awaits my daughter in the multicultural race game. While it is not completely, or clearly defined, my daughter is (brace yourself): Korean, African-American, Italian, German, Irish, and Greek. Translation: she's a beautiful, little CaBlAsian (NO relation to Tiger Woods, thank God) girl with curly brown hair, shapely eyes and medium-fair skin. By today's standards, she's not all that unique. As families are increasingly multi-faceted, and less "traditional," she may experience less of the racial challenges I faced (and continue to deal with). However, there will be the usual assumptions, and questions when people see the three of us. Of course, there is little accountability for people's ignorance as we, as a society, learn to understand that people no longer fitting into "boxes." I'd prefer that my daughter not be the racially ambiguous test subject for people's stupidity, but how else are we supposed to learn?

Maybe this little diatribe will become one of my primary foundations of parenting, as my child gets older. Be proud and confident of who you are. Yes, it is a little cliche, but it is critically, morally, personally, and emotionally required. It is a lesson I learned a little late in life, but I embrace what it has afforded me as a mother.

I finally understand what it means to love, as a mother does. My mom always told me that I would understand one day, when I have my own children. She was SO right.

To my darling daughter: live life to the fullest. Learn to love, trust, and value who you are. Don't make excuses for people's ignorance. I love you more than you will ever know and I'm already so very proud of you. You are my heart's treasure.

October: A time for reflection and renewal

Yes, it's November, and I'm a little behind but I'm working on it. :-)

October, for some, signifies the changing of the seasons, and the celebration of religious and world holidays. It is my autumnal peace. It signifies one of the greatest foundations of my life. It marks the birth of an amazing woman and breast cancer awareness month. The two are intrinsically linked. I am referring to the most amazing woman in the world...a beautiful and caring wife, a breast cancer warrior, a loyal sister, grandmother, etc. My mother.

"All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother." ~Abraham Lincoln

To my mother: I love you and miss you everyday. You are not forgotten. Your battle for the cure, patient rights, and survivor support lives on. You have a legacy.

I told you many times in life that I love you. I'm not your flesh and blood or your genetic heir, but that never mattered. You made me special. I was chosen. I was saved. I was and continue to be loved. You are a woman who bestowed me with some wonderful gifts. I reap the benefits of your life's "work" everyday. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for teaching me the importance of family. Thank you for teaching me to be a mother.

I love you eternally,
Your daughter

The Art of being genuine

So, almost four months have passed. The commodity has not worn off. The emotional scars are partially unhealed. I still find myself flipping through the thousands of pictures I took, recapturing both wonderful and challenging moments. Korea is not only a permanent part of my past, it is a living, breathing part of my present, and destined to be, in many ways, the legacy of my future. Dear Korea, while you are thousands of miles away, you are not forgotten. You are my everything and my nothing. You've given me new life. You've given me some motherly gifts. You've given me a purpose.

Every so often, I've felt it necessary to re-create myself. A bit of self-discovery, one might say. This is no longer an issue of my estranged relationship with my self-identity; rather, an opportunity for me to re-evaluate my priorities and values in life. Over the course of the last year I've switched jobs, gained and lost friends, and questioned my career/life goals. It's "time to make the donuts." Time to take out the emotional trash and time to continue to be thankful for the sweetness of life.

This is a partial awakening and the start of my enlightenment. The beginning of my glory years. Thank you to those who love me, to those who challenge me, to those who motivate me, and to those I can be myself with. You've helped me preserve my youth. You've granted me wisdom. You've made me genuine. Authentic. One of a kind. A diamond in the rough, and a work in progress.

DEBRIEF part III-The journey ends and yet it begins

I have been home for about three weeks and I'm slowly taking the time to process my journey to Korea, from beginning to end. The business aspects, the social aspects, and most importantly, the personal aspects. It may not sound like a lot but the weight of my experiences is getting heavier and heavier as I move on with my "normal" life. Although I've left Korea, a piece of me remained.

When I first thought about returning to Korea, I was very young (circa 5-6). I saw unicorns and rainbows. I was going to return to Korea, change my name back to my given name, and live happily ever after. Needless to say, it didn't work out that way and I'm not complaining. Instead, I've embraced my life in the States-my family, my friends, my career, my HOMELAND. The only one I've ever known. While my brief time in Korea gave me a fairly comprehensive view of the life left behind, I am unsure as to whether or not I want to dig deeper into the emotional abyss to see what else I might uncover.

Prior to my departure, I was thoroughly convinced that I would obtain little to no new information upon my arrival at Holt and my orphanage. I was certain that I was only going to do site visits, check the places out and verify the information that I formulated in my mind, in tandem with my adoption file. Instead I got the gift that keeps on giving...more ambiguity, confusion, frustration, and very little closure. Longer stay in the orphanage? Different birthdate? Foster family information? I suppose obtaining that information would have been easier to digest if I hadn't convinced myself that this was not possible. My security blanket was shredded to pieces. My soul was broken. Some of my emotional wounds were re-opened.

Since returning home, I've had a number of conversations with people regarding my trip. I've commonly been asked, "how was your trip?" Who knew a simple question like that could be so difficult to answer. Dare I say LOADED? The answer varied depending upon who I was talking with and the nature of my relationship with them. For some, it was as simple as, "it was great, it was amazing, it was interesting"--all true, but obviously not the whole story. It was life-changing. It was deeply depressing. It was highly inspirational. It was exactly what I expected. It was not at all what I expected. It made me want to stay longer. It made me want to run away and never return. It forced me to tackle my demons. It helped reinforce who I am. It left me defeated with a sense of betrayal. It gave me a sense of pride. All that in three short weeks.

So, what's next? I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO CLUE. For the most part, I have returned to my blessed life and resumed my "normal" activities. On the other hand, my mind has been constantly racing with ideas of grandeur and next steps. I've even had chats with my dear friend Melissa about a small business venture in Korea. While that is highly unlikely, it has been entertaining to think about. There is also the possibility of dual citizenship. That could mean carrying a Korean passport. It could mean voting in Korean elections. It could mean financial obligations. I could have all of the rights Korean citizens enjoy, dislike, and (maybe) take for granted everyday BUT, do I want that? As of today, I'm not quite sure. One might argue that I, as a Korean adoptee, am entitled to citizenship since I was not given the choice to leave my former homeland. I'm not sure that is a compelling enough reason to go that path.

With over 100,000 Korean adoptees worldwide, eligible to (re)apply for Korean citizenship (depending upon the regulations of their home countries), what could this mean for Korea? It is reassuring that the Korean government supports dual citizenship for adoptees since it, in some ways, publicly acknowledges Korea's history of adoption. In the future, it may help alleviate the social scars and taboo nature of adoption since Korea has recently "reclaimed" their abandoned and surrendered children, by limiting (closing) transracial adoptions. I think Korea still has a long way to go and this will not solve all of the unresolved tensions and issues, but it may be a good jumping off point. I guess that gives me some serious food for thought.