Although I was born in U.S. I was raised in South Korea for about 14 years of my life. I moved back and forth between Korea and U.S. with my father’s job, as a professor, and I finally moved on my own around when I was 18 years old for my colleges and career life. South Korea…. It is a lovely country. However, for me, some particular culture makes me feel bitter. I was the boogie man… that parents used to tell the story to scare the kids who are causing trouble. Some mothers would cover their kids eyes when they stare at me. Some pregnant women won’t look at me because they believe that their babies may be born looking like me.
Younger kids on the street often made grand gestures of being nice to me as if it’s a brave thing to talk to scary person. Any given moments I was asked what happened to my face. Asking what happened… that’s way better than people coming up with their own answer and telling each other as if I am not there or I can’t hear them.
Today, as one of my oldest friends and I were discussing about diet and the physical shape she wanted to be at… As we were walking in the central park seeing variety of people passing us by my friend wondered if the person who was big was truly not losing weight despite her exercises. She seemed to believe that if she not thin then she must be doing something wrong. I don’t think she meant anything harm by it. If not anything it was more of motivation for herself and that she strongly wanted a proof that her effort won’t go in vein. As I was trying to say that they are genetic make up or how you are born that has it’s own limitations…..we continue to discuss the standards that Koreans have regarding health and looks. She was saying that she herself is also tormented to think that being slightly overweight would be an issue for dating or getting marry.
I said to her .. and myself.. once again..
” So… then do I have peel my face off so I can get marry or meet a nice guy?”
To some people this may be unbelievable story…. but… to me… it has been the reality..
My face is my identity… being told that my face is being the obstacle of life or the reason for being treated differently… I am expected to explain myself than to be accepted… Those were my own people’s ideas… Even now… when I visit Korea.. I get approached by various people in public. Even in New York City… I get to be asked, “‘what happened to your face?” ” I feel bad for you”
It’s easy for others who don’t get these comments to say, “Don’t let it get to you” ” They are just curious.”
It may be true… but I don’t know what makes only my job to tolerate others….It’s enough to bear the pain and my own contradiction everyday.. I don’t feel like making excuses for others, so called my own people.
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