Monday, August 26, 2002.
The Half-Korean Page - A lot of guys here look like me.
I go balls out on the
links in this entry.
ASCENSION / EXPULSIONLike the first angel to be booted out of heaven, they kicked me out of my beginner's Corean class at the Corean church.
And for what?
For working ahead a chapter or four?
For correcting Mrs. Green's subject/object particles?
For quoting my favorite line from the Corean movie My Sassy Girl, "Ya! ... Chugalae?" (translates to: "Hey, wanna die?").
For proudly wearing my post World Cup "Be the Reds (Devils)" T-shirt in a Corean-free zone, like Appleby's?Actually I was promoted to the next class, along with Little Orphan Elvis, the rain man with the 1950s sideburns.
"We replacing you with an American business man who is going to Corea soon. He wants to learn the basics before he goes. Yeh. You kicked out," my blunt but lovable older Teacher laughed in front of the four older students.
Replaced by The White Devil. Damn The Man again.
I was a little sad. I didn't want to leave or be promoted. I liked the motley group I was with, the Corean-Russians, the unfortunate Mrs. Green, and especially my Teacher. At least the attention-deficient Little Orphan Elvis was going with me. I was still trying to decide if that was a good thing or not when Teacher said several sentences to me in Corean … I think.
"Do you understand what I said?"
"Something about Corean class?" I was befuddled.
"Aigoo. You going to new class where they speak Corean all the time. No English. Yeh. Maybe you not ready yet. Bye."
"Now you'll know how I feel," Mrs. Green, the "slower" half-Corean student said to me with an almost vengeful twist to her half-smile. She's just mad because Teacher always said I was younger AND smarter.
After Teacher stepped out, I leaned in to help my classmates one last time,
"You guys know that all the answers are in the back of the book right?"
I showed them. Their eyes lit up. I left. Teacher was only half right about the "younger and smarter" thing.
I am also a Red Devil.
K.G.B. INFORMANT
(a.k.a. Korean Gossip Bureau)
One of the Corean-Russians had the scoop on my soon-to-be new teacher, Mr. Chaebol. He was the "ruthless" boss of a local company that employed half or more of the church, including the recently immigrated Russians.
His company was even run like old-school Corea. Workers addressed each other as "younger brother" or "older brother" only. You did whatever the older person told you to do and you didn't question it. Unfortunately, my Russian friend was the youngest one in the company, not the best place to be in a Corean patriarchy. All of the employees lived in fear of and respect for Mr. Chaebol. His unstable temperament controlled their livelihoods and their lives.
Like North and South Corea, the same person was a very different entity depending on your location.
"It's like he is two persons. At work he is scary, cruel, michusuh ("crazy in a very bad way"). But in church, he's always nice. He makes me uncomfortable. Eh, I'm sure he will be nice as your new teacher," the Russian told myself and Little Orphan Elvis as I waited for Hollywood-style lightning and rain to flash outside the window.
L.O. Elvis and I both missed the following Sunday at church. I had to work but neglected to call Teacher since she was, sadly, no longer my teacher. L.O. Elvis said he had car trouble for the first few weeks. L.O.E.'s been A.W.O.L. ever since.
FATHERS, GHOSTS AND THE HOLY SPIRIT, BATMAN!"Email is for geeks and pedophiles."
- Sebastian in Cruel IntentionsI never did meet Mr. Chaebol. I'm not even sure he exists. Maybe he's one of those ghostly folk tales they tell to misbehaving children. Maybe he got mad that neither of us showed up or called that week. When I did show up the next week, he wasn't there. Teacher said he went out of town a lot.
The Pastor was my teacher for a couple sessions. Only about six years older than I am, he is both young and old. The kids think he is cool and the adults practically worship him. He's sincere, gentle, and charismatic. He acts like a professional but he's got this youthful energy to him. If Mr. Chaebol was the scary father figure, then The Pastor was the church's good father figure.
Growing up, my father figures were either comic book heroes blind with vengeance or they were dead. I have always been immensely distrustful of paternal types - authority seems to lead to intimidation and abuse. I may be psychologically susceptible to the nicer types though, probably because my dad was always one of the nicer ones - the only good one. Even with the nicer types, I often feel like I am being conned somehow.
If the Pastor is conning me, it's only with kindness because he wants me to stay with the church. That's okay, because for whatever reason that brought me here, I want to belong. It will be a nice place for Sun Su to grow up and Amy says she misses seeing "lots of Asians," like she did back in college. I don't think she's talking about that 40% of my "nude drawing reference" files either.
The Pastor and I talked (in English) a little about Corean movies, like "Friend" (Chingu), a movie set in a 1970s Corea about high school friends who grow to become gangsters. Eventually, one destroys the other. Every Corean male his age was nostalgic over that one, he said.
Why, because they're all gangsters? I wondered.
"… Because that's what high school was like for us," he laughed as if answering my thoughts.
One morning, the Pastor's daughter stopped by the classroom to get a book. He introduced us and she shyly left again. The Pastor mentioned how she was graduating and about to start as a freshman. I walked myself into a major faux pas by asking,
"What college is she going to?"
"Huh? No, she's starting middle school. She's only eleven."
"What? She looked like she was seventeen or something," like a dumbass I said.
Oh. My. God. I'm sorry, but I don't remember 11-year olds being stacked like that when I was growing up. So wrong.
Guiltily I thought, now The Pastor probably thinks I am a pedophile and a K-girl poacher and eyeing his little girl as well.
As I've recently been reminded, some Coreans think that half-Coreans (who don't look very Asian) interested in their Asian heritage just do so to try to score with Asian girls. As ridiculous as this is in my situation, such accusations still sting, especially when I look in the mirror. As if there is nothing in Corean culture itself that is fun or worth knowing or taking pride in even if your relatives went through it. As if all the years of my mom telling me "You are Corean" and me flatly denying it to myself and to other Coreans didn't rebound like a bat out of hell later in my life.
The Pastor was graceful about it and chuckled, "Yes, she looks older."
Looking at Sun Su, I am pretty sure he will not have to deal with such mixed issues of "not being a real Asian" or "trying to be too Asian," thankfully. (He'll have entirely different issues which I will try to foresee and armor his ego up against.)
Subconsciously, that was my plan - to not confuse my child over how s/he looked. A plot of dark vengeance against my own mixed self, in a way. To bury one side and resurrect the other. I have not been a happy hapa. I wish I could just let it go or be happy in being mixed like some have kindly wished me to. In some ways, it would have made everything so much easier. I have the kind of hapa face that allows me to blend - with just about any dark-haired ethnicity (some do not). But for whatever reasons, some I blame on my dad's side of the family, some of my own imaginings, I cannot.
More thoughtful comic writers used to suggest that the only reason The Joker existed was because Batman did. The supervillain's psychotic nature was awakened by the superhero's obsessive vengeance against the same. Simply put, they made each other, although they were always fighting each other. Some say heaven and hell are the same way. God and Devil.
I think half-Asians because of their mixed natures can be some of the most accepting and fair-minded people, having been on both sides of some racial lines and prejudices. But it's a truly fine line between that and being hurt by both sides to the point that you reject both sides. You against the world, as it were. Such feelings can be of supervillain proportions.
Later, The Pastor asked if we wanted to baptize our little Sun Su this year. Even though I've never seen a real baptism, I thought it was a great idea.
If it will lead to my boy wholeheartedly becoming more accepted by everyone here, I am all for it. I don't want him to be stuck in the middle with me. Torn in half like two countries of one people fighting against themselves, with his heart in the DeMilitarized Zone.
Please love my little boy. And all of me too, if it's not too much problem. That's really what I want, although I don't recall being in church as part of the original plan. I don't want to become the greatest supervillain of all time. Maybe that's why we are here.
I didn't tell The Pastor all that of course, I just said,
"Baptism? Sure, he loves taking baths."
(Church story to be continued later)
