Our Son's Name

Hubby and I went back and forth about giving our baby a Korean or an English name. He preferred an English name since our son will be raised in the US, and it would be a lot easier for everyone to say and remember an English name, but I preferred a Korean name since both of his parents are from Korea originally and our son will have his father's Anglo last name, I felt it important that part of his name reflect his Korean side. At first I was uncomfortable with our son having an Anglo last name when both of his parents look fully Asian. But I also realized that his having his father's last name is significant as the name carries his father's personal history.

We settled on a Korean first name, my Korean last name as his middle name, and Hubby's German adoptive last name as his family name. Looks like the confusion around one's name as it relates to one's identity that's prevalent among transnational adoptees continues on into our son's generation. Our son will have the option, of course, when he is older, to choose or alter his name to suit how he identifies himself.

With that decided, next we searched for a Korean first name that not only we liked but that was also relatively accessible to English speakers. We asked my umma and two older sisters for their input. We created a short list and tested out the ease of their pronunciation on Hubby. After several months, the whole family agreed on a name that we like in terms of the way it sounds, it's meaning, and the baby's father says it perfectly.

But decisions around our son's name doesn't stop here, however. Now, Hubby and I are in disagreement about the spelling of the Korean name. He prefers the English phonetic spelling that is most conducive for English speakers whereas I prefer the current transliteration of the Korean name that follows the standardization of Korean words written in English. Hubby is concerned our son's name will be mispronounced if we follow the standard transliteration and our poor son will end up having to explain and teach the correct pronunciation all his life. I, on the other hand, feel that our decision shouldn't be based on making English speakers more comfortable and that using the correct transliteration reflects the period in linguistic history when our son was born.

I guess we'll know the official spelling once the baby is born and we fill out the birth certificate, which, I hope, will be this week!

Our Beautiful Umma

Photo by Tae

When I lost my first love at age nine, I didn't know what consequences would come from that experience. It turns out, the aftermath of the separation from Umma were devastating. When I lost her, I also lost a part of myself. Living for the past twenty some years as this incomplete being who was constantly searching and seeking, trying to cope with perpetual grief and sadness has been like a prison. So when I started spending time with her again fifteen years ago, I thought the wounds would heal. The healing didn't occur immediately nor completely. A whole new set of complications and emotions arose and it took many years to re-establish our relationship. The first stage of our relationship was filled with fantasies and expectations. The second stage was disillusionment, the third, anger. The fourth stage was disappointment. The fifth stage, which is now, is love. I, as my adult self, have fallen in love with my umma again for who she is today. It literally feels like the freeze that came over me is beginning to melt away.

Stoked for A Brand New Life at the SFIFF53

OMG!

My heart is racing. This film, A Brand New Life, is exactly the same story I wrote for an Asian American zine guest edited by Lee Herrick. I can't believe how similar the film plot and my story are, down to the minute details like the hero being a nine-year-old Korean girl sent to a Catholic orphanage for adoption and how she endures the orphanage and being separated from her family, which in the film's case is a father and in my case is a mother and older sister. Both stories are told from the child's perspective. Amazing!

On top of these commonalities, the film is a co-production between France and Korea and the Korean producer is my hero, director Lee Chang-Dong. The film is based on the life of the Korean adoptee French director. I must see this film! The film is currently in post production. 8E8E!! Huuuurrrrry!!

education on transnational adoption

My short story about a thirteen-year-old Korean adopted girl visiting Korea with her adoptive family was workshopped in my fiction writing class last night. This was the second of nine classes and therefore, I still don't know the other eleven writers that well, nor the instructor, for that matter. I do, however, like the instructor, a lot, so far. He is very good at what he does. I'm still figuring out the other writers, plus people's verbal expression oftentimes differ from their written, so until I've read everyone's work, I'll keep an open mind--which is not easy.

I hate to resort to prejudices, but as much as I love living in Berkeley, I'm wary of the "purple scarves," as the husband of one Berkeley friend of mine calls them. These are the older generation, white, new age, bumper sticker loving, liberals who ferociously protect their rights to fresh, organic, always available produce; clean, manicured parks; million dollar homes; bike lanes; top schools; and find anything ethnic, especially from the non European, underdeveloped cultures, oh-so-fascinating. Not surprisingly, taking a writing workshop in Berkeley means having a few of the purple scarves as classmates.

I don't want praise for my story because it's exotic and foreign to my readers. In last night's workshop, I received comments that were constructive and helpful as they relate to the craft of fiction writing and I got comments that irritated me.

One woman, I'm sure she thought she was being totally thoughtful, and she was in bringing "A Single Square Picture" by Katy Robinson to class, except for the assumptions she made about rural America, where Katy was raised. She also shared with me that she has a four-year-old Korean grandson. Good for you, I wanted to say, but I just smiled. I told her kindly that I had read the book, and that I wrote my master's thesis on transnational adoption literature so I covered that book in the literature review. Another woman asked her what the book is about. The woman replied, it's about a Korean adopted woman who grows up in northern Minnesota with a family that is, well, because they are from that area of the country, not very nice to the girl. WHAT?! I crumpled in my seat as this large woman--not fat, but large like she played water polo in college, at least 5'8' and 160 lbs. stood over me. I couldn't believe she said that. And the other older, white woman simply nodded like she understood exactly what the towering woman meant. Uhg. The lady with the book and grandson then went onto say that she prays her grandson will not have the issues Katy Robinson (or my short story) relates, and she thinks he won't because he is being raised in the diverse Bay Area.

Loss and Rage

“To elaborate on loss, to look for some insight in it, is not just what a psychologically mature person does,” Dr. King said. “It’s how a person matures.”

Quoted from this NYT's article: The New Year’s Cocktail: Regret With a Dash of Bitters

I'm swimming in an ocean of self-examination. Many times it's a descent to a lonely, dark hole and sometimes, although rare, if I'm lucky I'm yanked out of it by a moment of illumination. I wish I could just get on with my life already, but I'm not ready. I'm still wrestling with the profound sense of loss and emotional trauma from my early-childhood adoption. I'm still nurturing the rage accumulated over the years in my adoptive home. I will not deny this, I refuse to will them away. I will not, however, be imprisoned by my past forever. As the above quote says, to process the loss is a way of maturing--though it's miserable a lot of the times.

My family now is my birth family. I love my umma and two older sisters very much. Before, I believed my problems would disappear once I reclaimed my family. We can't, however, get back the ten years we lost. I can't look to my family to undo the past.

I haven't spoken with my adoptive parents in half a decade. I know I'm not ready, either, because my blood still boils when I think of them.

I'm left with me, to look within myself. This is where it gets lonely and tricky. I don't want to shoulder this burden, but the more I kick and thrash about, resisting the responsibility, the more life sucks. So I live with loss and rage as my two closest companions these days. Is this really how a person matures, Dr. King?

KAAS in AsianWeek Newspaper

A brief coverage of the Korean Adoptee Artist Showcase in the Bay Area's newspaper. Read it here

Korean Adoptee Artist Showcase

I've been laboring over planning this event for the last few months. Only two weeks out from the event, and it's crunch time with tons of roller coaster emotions: are we really going to pull this off, what if we can't sell enough tickets, the evening program is amazing--this is going to be an amazing event, are we going to get the cases of wine to sell at the event donated like we were promised, plus all the frustrations of working with seven other individuals with all their personal and hectic lives and blase commitment by some, and enthusiasm by others that inspires. I've never cared so much about accomplishing a project like I do with this event. I strongly believe in the underlying integrity of community cultural and artistic events that bring people together, stimulate the mind and the senses and promote dialogue on social issues, which in this case is transnational adoption.

This is why I'm subjecting myself to hours and hours toward planning and sleepless nights stressing and being frustrated and emotional. Still, I'm happy I did this, and maybe not any time soon, but I think I'll do it again, someday.

Korean Adoptee Artist Showcase
November 2, 2007, 6-10 PM

The Association of Korean Adoptees-San Francisco (AKA-SF) presents Korean Adoptee Artist Showcase in conjunction with a celebration of the Ten Year Anniversary of AKA-SF. We will kickoff the evening with a Korean banquet dinner followed by presentations by four featured artists. The artists work in various disciplines: film, poetry, stand-up comedy and music, and consider issues of transnational and transracial adoption in their work, revealing widely disparate, as well as overlapping ideas, on being Korean, American, Adopted and an Artist.

Documentary filmmaker Deann Borshay Liem will present a short sample reel of her upcoming documentary, a follow-up to her Emmy Award-nominated film, First Person Plural (Sundance, 2000) that continues the journey of self-discovery post reunion with her biological family. This film, Precious Objects of Desire, interweaves her personal search with stories from a diverse group of Korean adoptees contextualized against a historical backdrop, illuminating the interconnectedness of Korea's transnational adoption practice with global politics of the Cold War era.

Poet and professor, Lee Herrick, will read from his first published collection of poetry, This Many Miles from Desire. Lee's poems have been published in numerous journals: The Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, Berkeley Poetry Review, Hawaii Pacific Review, The Bloomsbury Review. "The universal sadness, almost Sufi-like, and the timeless compassion these poems articulate make it possible for a reader to believe that any 'I' must include the whole world, inside and out, bliss and pain, broken and whole. I love these poems." –Li-Young Lee, author of The City in Which I Love You

Singer and actress Katie Tupper will sing a few of her favorite songs accompanied by a pianist. Katie has a diverse performance experience, including touring across the U.S., as an edu-theater actor. She is completing her Masters Degree in Vocal Performance and Pedagogy at Westminster Choir College of Rider University.

Comedian/Actor/Writer/Producer/All Around Groovy Gal, Amy Anderson, will perform her stand-up special about being "a funny American girl who happened to be born in Korea and adopted by Swedish parents in suburban Minnesota." She's been described as "a skinny Margaret Cho" and "a heterosexual, Asian Ellen."

When: November 2, 2007, 6:00-10:00 PM
Where: Ohgane Korean Restaurant
3915 Broadway
Oakland, CA 94620
510.594.8300
Tickets: $20 for AKA-SF paid members; $35 for general audience
For more information and to buy tickets, please go to our website: www.akasf.com.
Contact: akasf@akasf.com

Art and the 6.25 War

This past Saturday was a performance for the not "forgotten" re-remembering of the Korean War with spoken word, dance, and live music in Oakland. The entire performance surpassed my expectations and was thoroughly glad I took some time away from my thesis to attend. The second-generation artists expressed through their medium the message that they would not complacently allow the erasure of their parents' war memories and would not let the silence of the war legacy pervade their collective and individual lives. The performers were talented, bold, and intelligent.

One woman, through spoken word, brought to light the plight of war orphans and the subsequent emergence of transnational adoption that still continues fifty years after the war ended. She collapsed the division between the birth mothers and the adoptees as part and parcel of the hundreds of thousands of families who remain divided from the war. She questioned the dominant international claims of how transnational adoption signifies Korea's moral bankruptcy and U.S. benevolence. She challenged the justification that adoption is good for the orphans and the Korean nation. Bold, right? I was inspired to stand the position I take on my thesis and not appease my stance.

I spoke with this artist after the performance--told her about my thesis topic and she told me about her dissertation on the body politics of Korean birth mothers. When she found out I was adopted, however, she apologized. I was a little taken back by this gesture. Why does she feel obliged to apologize to me? What has she ever done to me? Apparently, she wanted to apologize for her work on transnational adoption though she is not a member of the adoption triad. Who ever said only those directly involved with t. adoption have the authority to work on this topic? In fact, it's not about born privileges; it's about being critical in your approach and self-reflexive during the process. Then she apologized because "we" were not able to take care of "you" and had to send you to an American family. Ehg? Whahh? C'om again?? She, a Korean international student, is identifying with the Korean nation-- the nation state as the father and its people his children. She has positioned herself in line with Korean nationalists who view Korea's adoption legacy as a source of national shame that weakens Korea's international reputation. In this formulation, there is no room for the adoptee's subjectivity and is reduced to its objectified "orphan" status. Afterwards, I mulled over our exchange and I, well unfortunately, was left feeling disbelief that a PhD student working towards social justice for a marginalized group could be this narrow minded.