Prologue: The 1 ½ Generation

I was four when my dad found a job in the United States, and I was five when my family left South Korea and flew over the ocean to our new home in the land of blond hair and fast food. I believe it was then that my life created a fork in the road and I walked the road as a “1 ½ generation Asian American. The other road as a Korean in South Korea was left to my imagination. Sometimes, I think about what kind of person I am now and wonder about the girl who may have walked down the other road.

It’s said that a person is the product of his or her environment. “1 ½ generation” immigrants are those who were born in another country and moved to America as a child. We grew up in two environments, which was confusing at first. I learned how to behave around adults in Korea, so I found my young self bowing to my pre-school teachers while other children waved, and although I learned to speak English pretty quickly, I was unable to keep up with who could speak louder, faster, and better. My lunches consisted of containers of pungent beans, kimchi, and marinated meat that set me apart from the sea of chicken nuggets and PB&J. Years passed, and I grew more confident in my speaking skills, and my mom learned how to make sandwiches. But my family is not “American,” or at least by most people’s definition. We take our shoes off in our home, kimchi is a staple food, family conversations are in Korean, and we root for South Korea first during the Olympics.

But the years have definitely Americanized me. I like fast food, English is my most fluent language, I speak my mind, and I’m an art student who receives a lot of encouragement. During high school, I began to wonder how I would have turned out if my family had stayed in South Korea. Would I have eaten healthy, been well versed in trending fashion and makeup, been taciturn in a male-dominated society, and never pursued art within an education system that discourages creativity and encourages academic conformity? It sounds weird to me now since I grew up in the States, but if I’d stayed there, I probably wouldn’t have thought it so strange. I like my life as it is, but would I have been happier there?

Probably not, but it’s an interesting thought.