Father's Day

*Let me preface this by saying my adopted father and mother are amazing and I am beyond grateful for their love. Please understand that when adoptee expresses negative emotions about their origins it is not a reflection of the adopted parents.*

Let's go back.

Back to the dark place in the beginning,  

The place where questions exist.

Don't ask questions, they say.

Be grateful. You were chosen. You are lucky. My father was far worse, so be grateful!

 They say this as though their own experience invalidates my own.

 They were hurt, so I cannot be.

But the darkness in the beginning still persists and I have questions that I'm afraid to admit, even to myself.

Why did you leave me?

Why didn't you want me?

How could you leave me on that streetcorner? There was a hospital right there yet you chose to leave me on the street.

Are you thinking of me today?

Are you still alive? 

If I searched for you and found you,  would you reject me again?

Would you be proud of who I am?

Or would my very existence be a painful reminder to you of the darkness within you that caused you to abandon me?

Let's go back further. Past the darkness...to the place where there is nothing.

In my mind, when I try to picture you ..FATHER...there is nothing. Which is worse than a something for you can rage against a something. You cannot rage against nothing. 

Let's go back further.  

Past the nothingness. 

Let's go to that scary place where deep down I feel that I am nothing. 

Because you are nothing. 

I was begat from nothing and so I am worthless.

Rationally I know this cannot be true,

But deep in my heart of hearts, 

In the very beginning.. in the furthest point,

In the very beginning...

I am nothing. 

But when I find you again,
Perhaps I will stop being nothing and become something.

School Yard Noises

*A recess bell*

“You got an A on your math test?....CHINK!”

“Chinese eyes.”

“You could be in the Pretty Club except…well I hate to say it, but it’s your eyes…”

“You and the Chinese Grocers son Gilbert are going to get married and have Ching Chong babies!”

“You are quite stout for an Asian girl.”

“I bet if you grew up in Korea you would be thinner.”

“You are Asian…but not Asian enough.”

“Fucking Chinese Drivers! Ahahahah!”

“Mom…I don’t like my eyes.”

“Sweetie, if you want to get surgery to fix your eyes I will pay for it.”

“This Chink bitch right here.”

“You are so exotic looking! I LOVE Asian women. I only date Asians”

“Haha..I am more Asian than you!”

“You are such a banana.”

"Korea is not your homeland...you are not a Korean!"

"Go back to where you came from"

*To nobody In particular…*

“Yes..I am a banana. No, I am a Canadian. I am South Korean…but I am not. I am both, and I am neither…….I am nothing.”

The Night I Found My Han

What is Han?

Han. It's more than just a cool first name for Star Wars character Han Solo. It's a distinctly Korean phenomenon defined by Wikipedia as:

"Han or Haan^[1] is a concept in Korean culture attributed as a unique Korean cultural trait which has resulted from Korea's frequent exposure to invasions by overwhelming foreign powers. Han denotes a collective feeling of oppression and isolation in the face of insurmountable odds (the overcoming of which is beyond the nation's capabilities on its own). It connotes aspects of lament and un-avenged injustice.

Han is frequently translated as sorrow, spite, rancor, regret, resentment or grief, among many other attempts to explain a concept that has no English equivalent. Han is an inherent characteristic of the Korean character and as such finds expression, implied or explicit, in nearly every aspect of Korean life and culture.^[5]

Han is sorrow caused by heavy suffering, injustice or persecution, a dull lingering ache in the soul. It is a blend of lifelong sorrow and resentment, neither more powerful than the other. Han is imbued with resignation, bitter acceptance and a grim determination to wait until vengeance can at last be achieved.^[5]

Han is passive. It yearns for vengeance, but does not seek it. Han is held close to the heart, hoping and patient but never aggressive. It becomes part of the blood and breath of a person. There is a sense of lamentation and even of reproach toward the destiny that led to such misery.^[5]"

As a dance artist, I have always leaned towards the darker, edgier material. The work I find most satisfying is that which expresses anger, sadness, melancholy, and revenge. And now I know why...it's in my genetics.

The Night I Found My Han

I was sitting at my vanity, washing my face after a long night of teaching. And I was suddenly overcome with a yearning in my heart that was so painful I burst into tears. It ached where my stomach meets my chest, with an unrelenting pain that said one thing to me: HOME.

I called my mother (adopted mother) and began sputtering hysterically. In between sobs and  choked up sentiments, she frantically tried to calm me down. I was experiencing something that neither of us was prepared for, and she didn't know what to say.

Desperate, all I could say was "I just feel this aching in my heart for HOME! And it hurts so badly!"

My poor mother thought I was having a nervous breakdown. But it wasn't a breakdown...rather it was an awakening in my heart. The same way the salmon heads back towards its birthing river on instinct, my Han had awakened, and it was breaking me inside.

Epigenetics

Recently it was discovered that the traumas experienced by Holocaust survivors altered the DNA of their offspring.  Their children were found to have higher instances of stress disorders. This lends powerful scientific evidence to support the phenomenon I was experiencing. 

The centuries of oppression and conquering by the Japanese had taken its toll, and so I was experiencing something quite normal for many Korean Adoptees: Longing for the motherland.

Connecting To The Motherland

I became obsessed with Korea. I began visiting the local Korean food store H-Mart, wandering aimlessly down the aisles. I had no idea what many of the items were: burdock root, young ginger, lotus root, fermented tofu, kimchi, sweet potato noodles.....but I wanted to know. I visited local Korean cafes, and unable to speak Korean, I would point at an item on the menu and wait to see what they brought me.

K-pop videos fascinated me, as they were a current, modern presentation of the Korean culture which seemed to exist in the past for me. I would watch the dancers in the videos and feel connected to them because I was also a dancer, but feel so distant because they were in the motherland and I was not.

I didn't realize it yet, but the painful night I found my Han was the beginning of a journey for me, back to the motherland.

Seoul Food: Oi-Muchim and Dubu-jangjji

I recently discovered the amazing Korean food goddess, Maangchi! Today I decided to make her spicy seasoned cucumber salad, called Oi-Muchim and her pickled tofu, dubu-jangajji.

Pickled tofu (dubu-jangjjji)

Spicy seasoned cucumber salad (Oi-muchim)

Oi-Muchim with cumin rice

I love her enthusiasm for the Korean culture of food, and these recipes were so quick and easy! Often at family gatherings, food is the one universal language that pulls us all together. So what better way for this adoptee to feel closer to the motherland than by cooking some of it's traditional dishes?

Cumin rice recipe here.

Shopping the Hanareum

I am fortunate enough to live in Coquitlam, which has a very large Korean population. I went to the local Korean supermarket, the Hanareum, to pick up some Korean food. Food is a universal language, and what better way for me start connecting with my roots than to eat some Korean food?

When I first walked in I was overwhelmed with the wide array of produce available. I didn't know many of the vegetables by name, so I played it safe with some Korean radish, bean spouts and some watermelon. I sampled some Korean White Peach, but decided against purchasing as they weren't ripe yet.

 Next was the seafood section. Boy, do those koreans love their tiny, fermented shrimps/fish/brine. There were various types of fish balls, octupus, cuttlefish and about a million varieties of small fish. The live fish tanks were also full of some really ugly muck-suckers that might as well have been called 'Assfish' because that's where they looked like they came from. Needless to say, I didn't buy any seafood.

I picked up some good quality rice and some noodles, and a large jar of cabbage kimchi. They also had a special on deli-style vegetable and tofu salads, so I picked up some candied lotus, pickled hot pepper cucumber, and some chili marinated tofu.

Kimchi: Spicy Pickled Cabbage

The main difference I noticed at the Hanareum was that there were samples of nearly everything. Produce, frozen prepared foods, bakery items, deli items. And the sample ladies are enthusiastic salesppeople, pushing you to try their wares and buy their product. It was a very exciting and colorful experience.

I steered clear of the 'fishball' samples steamed in water however. Korean or not, those stinky little balls looks suspect to me.

I considered buying some Korean BBQ sauce and trying to make Korean BBQ, however I am eating vegetarian lately so I decided against it. I considered making Korean BBQ tofu, but reconsidered. If I do decide to eat some Korean style meat, I want it to be Korean BBQ that has been properly prepared in the traditional manner.

At the checkout, I was greeted by the cashier with a cheery "Anyun haseo!". I know that means "hello" in Korean, but I didn't know how to respond so I just smiled and said "Hi!". I felt as though everyone was looking at me, a traitor in their midst. The one Korean girl in the Hanareum that can't speak Korean. Ack!

Luckily the lady behind me in the lineup was white and was asking me where to find the 'noodles with the spicy sauce', so I didn't feel too out of place.

I will have to learn how to say "Fine thanks" in Korean, so I can converse with the cashier next time however.

To begin, again

This journey starts with a death. My adopted grandmother, my nana, died on Friday August 5, 2011 at 1:30pm at the ripe age of 93.



RIP Elsie Duffy

October 2, 1918 to August 5, 2011

With her passing, a door has closed. My link to Ireland, her birthplace, was extinguished at the very moment her life was snuffed out.

Gone like a candle in the dead of night.

I am without a culture. I am without heritage. I am without roots.

Now suddenly, for the first time in my 30 years of living, I ache for my homeland. I ache for my history. There is a longing in my heart I have never experienced before. I want to know my past.

I was adopted by my parents when I was a year and 9 months old. I came from an orphanage in Seoul, Korea. I never really wanted to know much more about my past or my heritage until now. I have always accepted my 'roots' to be those of my adopted parents.

Deep down I know part of me is trying to fill the void Nana's death has created in me. I'm trying to quench the emptiness. And that's just fine. Everything happens for a reason.

This blog will chronicle my journey as I discover where I came from. I hope to find closure for my Nana's death and open a door to my heritage as a Korean adoptee.

My Nana died on a Friday. I was born on Saturday, January 10th 1981.

There is an old poem that reads:

"Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath day,
Is lucky and happy and good and gay."

This poem has truth to it. Nana was always loving and giving, and I definitely work hard. Funny how you can find symbolism is things when you need to.