Living in the In-Betwen

Korean-American identity • multicultural life • growing up between two cultures

Most days, being Korean-American feels like living in the "in-between." Not fully American and not fully Korean. Just kind of floating somewhere in the middle. Honestly, it is the hardest thing to bear with, and I'll explain further in my post. 

Life Events That Remain Engraved in My Head

Elementary School Experience

Growing up in a mostly Caucasian town, trying to blend in was something I tried to do at a very early age. I still vividly remember waiting in line for lunch in the second grade, and a white, blond boy in front of me asked me what my background was, only to tell me that I was Chinese when I told him that I was Korean. Because back then, if you were Asian, you were automatically Chinese. I eventually gave up on the conversation and let him believe what he thought.

My mom did everything she could to help my brother and me "be American" because she wanted life to be easier for us. But that's easier said than done. After all, you can't shake off the Korean face, the subtle mannerisms that mirrored your parents, and even sometimes the word choices and awkward sentence structures, because that's what you heard at home. 

Even to this day, I struggle with saying everything I want to communicate. I take 10 times longer to write a simple post like this than probably other writers because I'm constantly checking to see whether I have awkward phrases or sentence structure issues. I even had an English tutor in college to get me through English composition. So, if you see awkward wording, please forgive me. 

I Cried in Korea

If I calculate years correctly, I was either 24 or 25 years old in my second year of teaching in Korea. Korea has a big drinking culture that is pervasive wherever you go. Having lived in Korea for more than a year, I was comfortable enough to go out to the bars with other English teachers to talk, play games, and just have a good time.

One evening at a bar in Itaewon (a heavy area where foreigners liked to hang out), I realized that a Korean couple was calling me over to talk. So I gave them the pleasure and walked over to have a conversation with them. 

As I was talking to them in my very simple Korean at the time, the girl said to me, "You're Korean, but you can't speak Korean. Isn't that kind of shameful?" Of course, at that point, I kept quiet as she went on and on about how I should be making an effort to know the language because my blood is Korean. Eventually, I started crying, and the girl tried to defend herself by assuring me that she was a nice person. 

I walked away crying to my co-workers, and we immediately left the bar and went home in a taxi. I cried so hard that the taxi driver asked me if my boyfriend had broken up with me. 

This experience made me feel so out of place... like I didn't belong in Korea either because I lacked the language. 

That night, I learned something painful. I wasn't enough to be American. I wasn't enough to be Korean. I wasn't enough to be anything. This is the "in-between" I wasn't prepared for. 

I Thought I Was Done With People Trying To Tell Me Who I Am

Recently, someone close to me became upset about my desire to go back to Korea long-term. She then went on to tell me that she was concerned about how I was raising my kids, telling me that I should be putting in more effort in raising them "American" because they're American. 

Even now, my blood boils thinking about this past conversation. 

The ironic part? As a homeschooling family, we are required to teach our kids US history and US culture. And little does she know that I rarely teach my kids Korean history and certain Korean cultural practices because I didn't grow up learning them either. My kids generally gravitate to their Korean side and seek information during their own time or at Korean school.

The funny thing is, this person also tried to compare my kids with another family's kids whose parents are both Caucasian. Of course, they're naturally not going to have the desire to learn Korean or any Asian culture. They don't have a reason to. 

My kids are living in America, immersed in it, and honestly, I really don't have to teach them much other than American history because they're living the American culture. 

If I could go back in time to that conversation, I would tell that person my kids are part Korean. They have every right to explore where their ancestors came from, honor that, cherish it, and feel at home in whatever culture feels true to them. 

Why? Because we live in America, a place built on many cultures, and I refuse to let anyone shame them for wanting to know where they come from. 

This is Who I Am

There are many times, even now, I feel like I get "attacked" for wanting to connect more to my Korean side, and more times than not, I suffer through people's negativity and criticisms in silence. I am not one for creating confrontations, so I let these people say what they have to say and let them feel the satisfaction of voicing their opinions.

It's a strange experience to be in this "in-between" two cultures thing. I never fully feel comfortable in either Korea or America, but if I were to decide where I feel more at home, it would be Korea. It's odd because I was born and raised in America. 

As I get older, I understand that this in-between means wanting to belong somewhere but never fully belonging somewhere. 

What I do know is that I understand the ache of wanting to belong. It means I can connect with people who have these same feelings of being in the "in-between."

And maybe that’s where the magic is, in the space where cultural identity overlaps, where belonging softens into something uniquely yours.

If you’ve ever felt like you were too much or not enough for any side, I see you, and I can sympathize with you. But maybe, just maybe, that place of the "in-between" is the most special place of all.

If you are someone in the "in-between," leave a comment below. Let's remind each other that we're not alone in this. 

XO, 

혜원쌤

Laura