the grocery store asked me where I was from, and I said,
“Right here in Greenfield.”
“No, where are you from from, originally?” she asked.
“Right here in Greenfield. Since I was born,” I told her.
“Are you sure? Because you look just like a Japanese girl
I knew once,” she said. I said I was sure and then I had
to explain the whole Korean-German thing to her, even
though she was a total stranger. It’s not fair that people
I don’t know can ask me questions about my race and
heritage, but it’s not polite for me to ask them, “So why do
your ears stick out like jug handles?”
Both sides of my family love me a lot, and we all
get along. But I am not the same as either group of
my relatives. My German cousins don’t know about
playing yut or making special dumplings for the lunar
new year, but I do. And my Korean cousins don’t know
about singing “O Tannenbaum” and “Stille Nacht” at
Christmastime, but I do. I go through life with two worlds
in me, and no one in my family—not even Mom and
Dad—knows what that’s like.
So anyway, I can’t think of a metaphor for me. Mutt,
half-breed ... the names rattle around in my head like a
handful of broken glass. Mom suggested a fairy princess,
because she said I have magic to cross in and out of
fairyland, and Dad suggested a mermaid, who can live on
land and in the sea. But I don’t feel like a fairy princess or a mermaid. Those are fantasy creatures, and my life is real. My life is being stuck at a crossroads between different cultures, not quite fitting in with either one, but also belonging to both.
It's not easy having to always explain myself, or to feel like I have to justify my existence to people like the grocery store lady who has a set image of what “American” should look like. I get that it's human nature to be curious about things that seem different or unfamiliar, but there's a fine line between curiosity and invasion of privacy. And all too often, people don’t realize when they’ve crossed that line.
Cultural identity is a big part of who I am. It has shaped my upbringing, my perspectives, and the way I see the world. Having a mixed heritage means I've grown up with a fusion of traditions, customs, and languages that not everyone can say they have experienced. It's like being a human bridge between two communities.
My life is not just about being Korean or German. It's about being both, navigating the spaces in between and discovering where I fit in that unique blend. It’s about celebrating Seollal and Weihnachten, enjoying both bulgogi and bratwurst. It’s about understanding the struggles and triumphs of my ancestors from both sides of the world.
What I wish more people understood is that my identity isn’t something to be dissected and questioned. It’s to be respected and honored, just like anyone else’s. Instead of looking for a “metaphor” to encapsulate my mixed heritage, perhaps it would be better to say I’m a person with a rich, layered, and complex cultural narrative.
And to those who might still be confused or overly curious, I’m not a puzzle to be solved. I’m a human being with a story that doesn't need to be justified or explained away, especially not to strangers out of the blue. Respect for individual identity, regardless of how that identity is composed, is a basic aspect of human dignity.