Life, actually May 15, 2006 11:12 am 1260 Views My life could have taken a different turn. As we grow older, we all realize how small indeed we really are by the fact that among the billions of choices at every juncture, we can choose one path and only this one path – there is no such thing as “do over”. I chose to follow the way I came, and some of it was never my intention. I always wondered what kind of person I would marry and settle down with, and what kind of children I would have, and how my relationship with my family, my parents and brother and sister would develop. I also thought what kinds of disasters may befall my family, and what would I do as the oldest to help and control the situation if that ever came to pass. I grew up economically with practically nothing. So, disaster and insecurity were on my mind even at a very early age. I also wondered what my role in U.S. society would be – could I make president (in my very early years I thought this), how about a politician (I thought this also in my very early years– Koreans love to talk about power struggle}? How about a doctor? How about owner of a dry cleaner? Would I fit into mainstream American culture, the kind you see on TV? When I was little, on Friday afternoons, I used to get tingles eagerly anticipating that evening’s television line-up. I go to the library after school, read until 6 pm, come home, eat dinner, and at 8, turn to ABC, and it was the Brady Bunch, the Partridge Family, Nanny and the Professor, the Odd Couple, and then the risqué Love, American Style. My parents didn’t like me watching Love, American Style. But my brother and I would watch as much of it as we could, when they weren’t looking. Since my life at the time was so different from the television vision of America, I often wondered could it be possible that someday that I could be living in that kind of a house, and live that kind of a lifestyle, and talk like that? And would I be accepted? It all seemed like a fantasy to me at the time as a child and adolescent growing up in Philly. I eventually married someone in Korea even though I had grown up in U.S. and for all intents and purposes was fully Americanized. How did I end up marrying a Korean-Korean? It is difficult to explain. I still do not comprehend how it came to be. My Korean improved dramatically because we spoke Korean at home. But my wife’s English did not improve very much. As a result, socializing with non-Korean people began to diminish. As she began to develop a hearing disorder, the social isolation away from unfamiliar faces began to worsen. Today, we hardly interact with non-Koreans. I interact with American clients because of my occupation, but as a couple, we socialize mostly with other Koreans mostly from church. I often wonder how my social life could have been different if I had married a Korean American. We would have spoken English most of the time at home, which is the path of least resistance. My children would have ended up knowing virtually no Korean. We would likely have much more interaction with non-Koreans. I would probably have been exposed to a greater variety of American culture and all that it implies. By being mostly active in the Korean community, sometimes I feel as if I am on the fringe of American society. But in other ways, it is possible that there are many people in a similar position as me, interacting mostly within their own culture even in the midst of a variety of cultures that are available by merely opening the front door and walking across the street. I may be in the large silent minority group, but quite possibly, my experiences and struggles may be representative of the real America. 1 comment

Tipping May 8, 2006 7:27 am 1338 Views I arrive in Austin, Texas. I go to the Supershuttle sign-up counter. The man asks me, will this be credit card or cash? I say, credit. He then asks me do you want to include the tip in the credit card payment now? You mean, pre-pay the tip?! I said no thanks, I’ll pay the tip later. One of the first alien things I experienced in Korea was the no-tip culture. Bell boys would carry bags to the room for me, and I had learned that tipping was not done in Korea, but out of habit, I gave the man 2,000 won, to which he seemed to be grateful. They sincerely do not seem to expect any financial reward for their services. They genuinely seemed to be there to help. Conversely, Koreans that come to U.S. are confounded even horrified by all the tipping. They are profoundly confused why $20 dollars extra is left on the table after a $100 meal. I think the whole tip culture is a terrible thing. Tipping arouses inner turmoil – now, the fact that this doorman called a taxi for me, does this count as a tip-generating event, and if so, how much, but geez, all I have is a five dollar bill, and the event is not worth a five buck tip, but I gotta give him something, and it would be awkward to ask him for change. And the cab was not that far away. I mean, he didn’t have to go out into the street in the rain to wave one for me. Would he laugh at me if I gave him a dollar? It is just ridiculous. It also demeans the human relationship. In human society, a person should be able to do something for each other without expecting a one-dollar payment in return. Sometimes, a genuine thank you should be enough. Why do simple errands and simple favors need to be rewarded with a dollar? Can there be such a thing as a favor in a tip culture? Where did this tip culture originate? I was in China, I gave a bell boy a tip. It must have been too little because “disappointment” was written all over his face. He didn’t even say thank you, and he just huffed out. This is another reason why I think China has a long way to go before it can even pretend to be economically powerful. It may think it is a roaring tiger now, but once there is a blip, it will go down, precisely because the people are not ready. But I am going off track here. In restaurants in U.S., I uniformly leave a tip of 15%. And my wife and I sometimes argue at the end of a nice dinner about the tip. She is far more critical of service. She takes it into account and begins to discount from the base level of 15%. I tell her, since we will be coming to this restaurant in the future, it would be wise not to be too harsh with the tip. They may remember us and not like us. Sometimes the argument can be quite heated, which quickly extinguishes our after-dinner glow. We have decided that we will leave a base tip of 20% in Korean restaurants and 15% in American restaurants. If all I order is a hamburger in an American restaurant, and the waiter brings me the dish and that’s it, it would be vastly unfair to give this person the same amount of tip as a Korean restaurant waitress who brings out the “ban chan”, and then you ask for more “kimchi”, more “ggakdugi”, more “this” more that”, could you do this for me, could you do that for me, and on and on. And she is rushing around getting more of the ban chan for you and doing this and that for you. This is a tough job. Also, in those “soon doo bu jji gae” houses– they carry those heavy, hot bowls. I don’t know how they do it. Arms must ache. And they are nice to you, too. I have not seen an American restaurant that provides food that is this manually intensive in the serving process. I don’t know if the Korean restaurant waitresses get paid more by the management or what, but from a consumer perspective, they deserve more. 3 Comments

“Nurinda” and “Yeoyu” May 2, 2006 9:51 pm 1209 Views There are some words in Korean that are not easily translatable into English. I think of a couple at the moment - “nu rin da” and “yeo yu”. These words focus the Korean mindset quite nicely. I know they certainly apply to me. Nurinda - I suppose it can mean “to enjoy”, but it is stronger than that. It means to enjoy so completely as if you owned it, or enjoy the moment so thoroughly that you possess dominion over it so much as if it is a competition to see who enjoys it most, without a care to anything else in the world. It is a great word to describe the Koreans’ ability to be fully engaged in the enjoyment process. Yeoyu - This concept is something that many Americans are attributed to having, and Koreans not. In comparison, Koreans often see themselves as “jo geup ha da”. I think the nearest definition to “yeoyu” is that it has the opposite meaning to “panic”. Yeoyu means having a broad perspective so that you are not caught up in the crisis of the moment, but to have some form of reserve and be able to take things in order thus preventing chaos and solving problems with time to spare. I suppose “yeoyu” could be obtained through strategic thinking, having a cool head, and patience. Also, experience cultivates “yeoyu”. This is seen in politics where Koreans didn’t have “yeoyu” and therefore do things for political expediency. I think the Chinese have the most “yeoyu” politically because their history is so long and they have the most number of people. Americans have more “yeoyu” in business because they have most experience in this sector. 0 Comments

Bad use of cell phones May 2, 2006 9:48 pm Mood: annoyed, 1247 Views I am on a plane headed for Memphis, Tennessee. Cell phones – I try to cut down cell phone use as much as possible now. I have my wife to thank. One time, my wife picked me up from the airport after being apart for ten days, and I began talking to my associate about some matter on the cell phone on the ride home, and she got very irritated – a clear look of seething displeasure. What is so important that you cannot put that phone call off for even a little bit? You were away for ten days. Pay attention to me. Say I love you - to me. Tell me you missed me. Hold my hand. Touch me. Hug me. It didn’t help that the associate that I was on the phone was female. Recently, my wife and I were at a Japanese restaurant for lunch. I got a phone call during lunch from a client. I ended up talking for about 15 minutes. She was livid. What is so important that you have to sacrifice your lunch with me? I am sitting here. Do you not see me? Why do you let your client run your life? You should enjoy your life. Why put stress on yourself? Good point. Today, my wife drops me off at LAX airport. As always, there is a long line at security. The lady in front of me is talking on the phone, although in reality, she appears to be talking to herself. I don’t see any wires, but she is definitely conversing animatedly with someone, mimicking a schizophrenic individual – while she is putting her things on the conveyor belt and taking her shoes off. And she is taking her watch off, but the TSA person says you don’t have to take your watch off but she is listening to a different voice in her ear. I am right behind her. I cannot believe what I am seeing. I would have never even imagined talking on a cell phone while going through security clearance – never mind with a long line behind me. What is so important that you cannot get off the phone for security clearance? I have now passed security clearance. I head to a hamburger joint to get some lunch. The lady in front of me is ordering something while she is talking on the phone – another one of these crazy people talking into thin air. What is so important that you cannot get off the phone before ordering food? I am now seated in my seat. I always take the aisle seat. Moments later, a man comes up to me with a cell phone in hand – this time, he is actually talking into a noticeable device. He attempts to put his luggage in the overhead luggage compartment, while carrying on a conversation on his cell phone, and he says excuse to me, passes me and sits down in the window seat. As soon as he sits down, he says “bye” and hangs up his phone. What is so important that you cannot get off the phone before getting seated in a airplane? And what’s the deal with hanging up as soon as you are seated?! And the man across the aisle from me is talking on the phone the entire time from the moment he enters the plane until the doors are locked. Now, there is a dog barking three seats behind me. Somebody brought her Chihuahua. This is going to be a long flight. I’ve got my earphone on Mozart. We’ll make it. We’ll make it. 3 Comments

Expectations and Self-Defeatism Apr 25, 2006 5:39 am 1579 Views My mother told me many stories as I was growing up. I believed all of them. And some had great influence on how I thought about life, positively or negatively. I was a junior in high school. One day, she took me aside, sat me down and spoke to me with a rather anxious look. She said to me, “Acon, Acon, (not my real name, obviously) – let me tell you something. My friend’s son at the sewing factory goes to Yale, and she says that it’s really hard in college. Asians can’t compete because these white people are physically stronger so that they can pull many all nighters without a problem, but Asians just can’t handle the studies because it is physically too taxing. Asians just can’t compete in college. What are you going to do, Acon?” Her words put a knot in my stomach. Could this be true? I was very concerned. Am I doomed to failure in college? I had grand visions of academic excellence and financial security, and being happy. Is my college experience going to be an exercise in futility, then? Will my brilliant American experience be limited to a few high school laurels, only to be crushed by the rigged machinery of the white man dominated monolith that is university education? I mumbled and stored away these thoughts in the back of my mind. Mind you, I was already attending an American high school, one of the best in the city of Philadelphia, if not all of the state of Pennsylvania. I was already competing against these big bad American specimen of physical stamina. But these kids didn’t look all that powerful to me. So, do they turn into the Terminator once they step on college campuses? And do Asians, like Cinderella, turn into little house mice and lose all their power and stamina when the clock strikes the bewitching hour of midnight, when all-nighters technically begin? All of a sudden, from that one misplaced seed tossed innocently at me by mother on that fateful day, a fear and suspicion of the white establishment powers insidiously seeped into my young mind and began to take root. I felt that no matter what I did, it was never going to be good enough to overcome the big vast white system. One side of me knew that these thoughts were illogical. America, if anything, is a land of opportunities. I believed it strongly, but why did my mother’s perhaps throwaway comment take on such meaningfulness in my life? I still do not know why this particular comment stayed with me for so long? Today, I do not consciously think that the white man’s system, if there exists one, is out to get me or block me from succeeding. But there still lingers within me the thought that I have not cracked the code to the wealth of information and treasures that the white establishment has locked away in whatever form they may be in. And of course, Asians compete with the best of them in the universities. So, my mother’s self-defeating words in effect have been debunked. What is left is to undo and mend the misconceptions, cynicism and self-defeatist attitude that have characterized a part of my life. 3 Comments

East Coast, West Coast, Golf and M**cedes Apr 22, 2006 1:55 am Mood: amused, 1693 Views The below entry originally was posted a few days ago. It was posted for a day, and then it was deleted by KFF. Although I am not entirely sure why, my guess is that it was deleted because I had mentioned some name brand automobiles. Below is my revised post in which the automobile brand names have been redacted. ______________________________________________ I was in Washington, D.C. last week on business. I used to live there. In fact, I have lived in Los Angeles for only 5 years. All of my prior years were spent in the East Coast. I met some Korean scientists there, highly educated, MIT, Harvard and blah and blah. We went to dinner and discussed Korean culture and living in America. They were 1.5 generation as am I. One thing that struck me was how much I had changed in the 5 years of living in L.A. Part of it has to do with my profession and my age, but part of it also has to do with the culture of East Coast versus West Coast (specifically Los Angeles). I have become much more materialistic while living in Los Angeles. Cars – I used to drive a beat up old T***ta C**ry and a Ch**ler mini-van, then when I had more money, we bought a L**us RX*** SUV, a big splurge for us. Cars were not a big focus for me, mainly because I could not afford fancy cars, but also because the value did not justify the money spent. Then we moved to Los Angeles, the city of glitz, home of Hollywood. For the first few years, we lived our usual frugal life. Then, just this year, we began taking up golf. Koreans love golf. It is an obsession. I belong to a small church of about 300 people, and there are 3 teaching professionals in attendance. You go to a golf driving range and at any given moment, it is at least 50% Koreans, and in the evenings it is 90%. And this is not Koreatown. This is a rather upscale neighborhood, which has some Koreans living there but not overly populated with them. You go out on the golf course, and you will hear Korean spoken at least once during your play. There is one golf course, where they sell cup ramen and have instructions written in Korean because so many Koreans come to play there. It is a very nice course, too, I might add. I do not play as much as I would like but it seems that playing golf is a natural thing to do here in L.A. I don’t think that the “white” Americans quite see the universal attraction to golf as much as the Koreans. Cars – I leased a M**cedes B**z S4** recently. Why? Partly for business purposes. But there are other reasons. I had never felt an urgency to drive a fancy car before, but it seems that many Koreans in L.A. drive nice cars. Turns out many are real estate agents – but that’s for another discussion. The car culture is a formidable force here. Just two years ago, I thought I was splurging when I bought a couple of cars, a brand new T**ota C**ry basic model for my oldest child and a T**ota T**oma truck (basic model – doesn’t even have power window) for me. I was having fun driving the T**oma, childhood dream fulfilled. The bumpy ride was rather enjoyable. However, as the West Coast/Koreatown/Hollywood materialistic culture was being osmotically absorbed into our being and brewed and simmered within our collective psyche, the thing came to a head one day at a golf range a few months ago. A few months ago, I met our real estate agent friend whom I had not seen since he found the house for us that we leased when we first came to Los Angeles. I met him as we were walking out of the driving range, and we chatted as we walked to our respective cars. As it turns out, we were parked close to each other. We said our goodbyes and he opened the trunk to his gleaming B*W7**i and threw his golf clubs in it. He saw me walk to my spotless small white T**oma truck and throw my clubs in the bed. I felt an ever so slight sense of embarrassment. Don’t ask me why I felt embarrassed. But the feeling was slight, and the feeling had to do with, “Well, I am driving this truck, and this guy must think that I am not very successful in what I do and he must think that I am struggling financially if I am driving this truck.” In reality, what difference does it make what he thinks? The fact of the matter is, I am doing fine on all accounts. I recapped this event to my wife later in the evening, and she genuinely felt hurt and felt sorry for me, and ordered me to lease a high end car immediately. After two weeks of mulling it over, I leased a M**cedes S4** from a broker, sight unseen. Never test drove it. I had to have it because it was an entry ticket for belonging to a certain but artificial and nebulous social and financial class that apparently gives comfort to those who crave such status, for such a person as myself - a symptom of Korean materialism syndrome mixed with an inferiority complex. I discovered this on the West Coast. Had I stayed on the East Coast, would I be wielding a golf club and would I be zipping around the beltway in a M**cedes? Can't say for sure, but there is less chance of it on the East Coast, I think. To extend this discussion a little further into Korea - I was shocked to learn that white collar business people are "required" to drive fancy cars. If they do not, their businesses likely fail for lack of respect. The parking garage below COEX is filled with fancy foreign made cars as well as the Equus's and Chairmans. By the way, my M**cedes drives great. 6 Comments

The loneliness of being in the loneliest of places Apr 21, 2006 12:18 pm 1548 Views A few years ago, after many years of working at large U.S. law firms, I decided to strike out on my own and open my own office. The type of law I practice allows me to seek international clientele. Logically, Korea was at the top of my list. I made arrangements to go to Korea to just observe life in Korea. I was not so much concerned with getting clients. I wanted to learn the Korean ways all over again. The problem was I hardly knew anyone in Korea. And my intention was to scrimp and save as much money as possible because now I run my own shop and every dollar comes out of my own pocket. Turns out my friend’s son had recently graduated from Princeton and was in Samsung-dong area teaching English and renting an apartment. So, stayed with him for a few days – very, very tight space, one small bed, room to stand, and a bathroom. Luckily, we took turns sleeping. I would sleep at night, shower and leave and he would come in early morning and sleep. We never planned it that way – it just happened and it was convenient. One day in the evening, I was walking in the Samsung-dong area. My dinner appointment had canceled. I was alone. So alone. There was nobody to call. This was the loneliest of the lonelies I have ever experienced. And, mind you, by nature, I am not a lonely person. I saw couples arm in arm – beautiful couples, too. And I sighed – ah, to be young again. And I was swarmed with a group of office workers male and female, walking fast, talking to each other, passing by me or passing through me, but they were gone. I meander the streets and I am surrounded by noise of people talking and dishes clanging, I turn, and people are barbecuing, drinking and laughing and arguing – causing a general ruckus in one kal-bi jip after another all in a row. And I ask, is there not a place for me at any one of those tables to appease my lonely and weary soul? Neon lights blinked their seductive oranges and blues in large letters and beckoned me to show something exciting inside, waving me into their corner of the world. But I guessed my lonely soul was not welcome there yet, for I feared to tread into unknown territory. Suddenly, without my being consciously aware of it, my lonely self found myself randomly embedding myself into a passing swarm of office workers. I pretended I was going where they were going. I pretended I was a member of the group. I pretended to walk like them. I pretended to be listening animatedly to their conversations. I even made hand gestures to an imaginary friend just so that it even looked like I belonged. I was with them for a few blocks until they all crashed into a kal-bi jip, and I was left outside. Game was up. One of them looked at me as if “aren’t you coming in?” I pretended not to see, and I walked on, alone again. 2 Comments

Is this “Jeong”? Apr 20, 2006 9:05 am Mood: contemplative, 1748 Views One of my most vivid childhood memories upon first entering U.S. when I was in elementary school involves a candy, a friend, and sharing. When I was little, growing up in Korea, I remember as a matter of course that if I had a piece of candy or any type of food, I was expected to share it. The sharing was a cultural mandate giving rise to a feeling of belonging (you eat my stuff, so I get to eat your stuff later). All I needed to do was to put out an open palm and just say in my Daegu accent, “jjom doh!” And, I will get a piece. Very little prodding was needed. If the thing was something more valuable, then more prodding, and even begging may be required. The funny part is that the begger would not easily let up until you got a piece. This is also a part of the Korean culture of sharing. There is the expectation that you are expected to share, and there is also the expectation that you are to continually ask and beg until you get some of that sweet candy or whatever else it is that is being sought. So, the expectation is there to give and the expectation is there to beg, and one begs because the expectation is there that there is a good probability that it will be given. Now here I was in U.S. my first month ever in a U.S. elementary school. During recess, I spotted a friend with candy - I think it was Life Saver. I went up to him, and held out my hand and said, “jjom doh!” (in English, of course). He said, “No”. Straight to my face. I remember being utterly baffled. My friend didn’t quibble. He didn’t say the usual Korean things I was used to hearing like: “Well, my mom gave this to me, and I only have this one left . . . “, “You weren’t nice to me last week, so . . . why should I . . . “. And my response to these things would be typically, “Just give me one, and I will give you something nice later.”, or “I’ll be nice to you from now on.” - the prodding, and begging and the deal making. What was interesting is that my friend was so direct with not a shred of emotion or equivocation. He simply said, “No.”. How could I as a little kid respond to this? It felt as if he slapped me in the face. Even at that early age, I understood, of course, it’s his candy, and he can do whatever he pleases with his own candy, but honestly, he couldn’t give me just one? Part of me wanted to taste the sweetness of the candy, but part of me was extending an offer of friendship – an opportunity to increase or to create “jeong”. It is then that I realized that American culture was a formidable one to master and that it was not going to be easy. 6 Comments

East Coast, West Coast, Golf and Mercedes Apr 19, 2006 9:45 am Mood: amused, 1223 Views I was in Washington, D.C. last week on business. I used to live there. In fact, I have lived in Los Angeles for only 5 years. All of my prior years were spent in the East Coast. I met some Korean scientists there, highly educated, MIT, Harvard and blah and blah. We went to dinner and discussed Korean culture and living in America. They were 1.5 generation as am I. One thing that struck me was how much I had changed in the 5 years of living in L.A. Part of it has to do with my profession and my age, but part of it also has to do with the culture of East Coast versus West Coast (specifically Los Angeles). I have become much more materialistic while living in Los Angeles. Cars – I used to drive a beat up old Toyota Camry and a Chrysler mini-van, then when I had more money, we bought a Lexus RX300, a big splurge for us. Cars were not a big focus for me, mainly because I could not afford fancy cars, but also because the value did not justify the money spent. Then we moved to Los Angeles, the city of glitz, home of Hollywood. For the first few years, we lived our usual frugal life. Then, just this year, we began taking up golf. Koreans love golf. It is an obsession. I belong to a small church of about 300 people, and there are 3 teaching professionals in attendance. You go to a golf driving range and at any given moment, it is at least 50% Koreans, and in the evenings it is 90%. And this is not Koreatown. This is a rather upscale neighborhood, which has some Koreans living there but not overly populated with them. You go out on the golf course, and you will hear Korean spoken at least once during your play. There is one golf course, where they sell cup ramen and have instructions written in Korean because so many Koreans come to play there. It is a very nice course, too, I might add. I do not play as much as I would like but it seems that playing golf is a natural thing to do here in L.A. I don’t think that the “white” Americans quite see the universal attraction to golf as much as the Koreans. Cars – I leased a Mercedes Benz S430 recently. Why? Partly for business purposes. But there are other reasons. I had never felt an urgency to drive a fancy car before, but it seems that many Koreans in L.A. drive nice cars. Turns out many are real estate agents – but that’s for another discussion. The car culture is a formidable force here. Just two years ago, I thought I was splurging when I bought a couple of cars, a brand new Toyota Camry basic model for my oldest child and a Toyota Tacoma truck (basic model – doesn’t even have power window) for me. I was having fun driving the Tacoma, childhood dream fulfilled. The bumpy ride was rather enjoyable. However, as the West Coast/Koreatown/Hollywood materialistic culture was being osmotically absorbed into our being and brewed and simmered within our collective psyche, the thing came to a head one day at a golf range a few months ago. A few months ago, I met our real estate agent friend whom I had not seen since he found the house for us that we leased when we first came to Los Angeles. I met him as we were walking out of the driving range, and we chatted as we walked to our respective cars. As it turns out, we were parked close to each other. We said our goodbyes and he opened the trunk to his gleaming BMW745i and threw his golf clubs in it. He saw me walk to my spotless small white Tacoma truck and throw my clubs in the bed. I felt an ever so slight sense of embarrassment. Don’t ask me why I felt embarrassed. But the feeling was slight, and the feeling had to do with, “Well, I am driving this truck, and this guy must think that I am not very successful in what I do and he must think that I am struggling financially if I am driving this truck.” In reality, what difference does it make what he thinks? The fact of the matter is, I am doing fine on all accounts. I recapped this event to my wife later in the evening, and she genuinely felt hurt and felt sorry for me, and ordered me to lease a high end car immediately. After two weeks of mulling it over, I leased a Mercedes S430 from a broker, sight unseen. Never test drove it. I had to have it because it was an entry ticket for belonging to a certain but artificial and nebulous social and financial class that apparently gives comfort to those who crave such status, for such a person as myself - a symptom of Korean materialism syndrome mixed with an inferiority complex. I discovered this on the West Coast. Had I stayed on the East Coast, would I be wielding a golf club and would I be zipping around the beltway in a Mercedes? Can't say for sure, but there is less chance of it on the East Coast, I think. To extend this discussion a little further into Korea - I was shocked to learn that white collar business people are "required" to drive fancy cars. If they do not, their businesses likely fail for lack of respect. The parking garage below COEX is filled with fancy foreign made cars as well as the Equus's and Chairmans. By the way, my Mercedes drives great. 9 Comments

Are Koreans racists? - Part II Apr 9, 2006 9:57 pm 1643 Views Lately, I have been having discussions with Koreans and Korean-Americans about our Korean heritage, especially related to our racist attitudes. Almost unanimously, when asked the question “Are Koreans racists?”, their reply was a “Yes. Absolutely.” Some even replied that Koreans are the most racist people on earth. Hmm. The usual litany of reasons cited include the “hermit country’s” desire for “pure bloodlines”, its resistance to any foreign influence and thus the further inward aggregation of the peoples, and the “us” versus “everyone else is an enemy” mentality. I understand this as well as the closed-minded and narrow-minded nature of many Koreans. Even within Korea, there is strife between the Chollado vs. Kyungsangdo people. I know this all too well. When I thought about the racism against Caucasians, however, I could not think of any situation where it would negatively impact Caucasians. In fact, there were countless times when I cringed because a Caucasian acquaintance or friend was being given unduly favorable treatment over other Koreans – above and beyond good Korean hospitality. What I did not know was that Koreans treated people from third world countries or dark skinned people very poorly, some of my discussion group members said Koreans treat them like “animals.” If anyone reading this blog is a Caucasian (other than Indian) and you feel you have encountered negative racist attitudes in Korea, I would be most interested to hear your personal anecdotes. Although it pains me a great deal, if you are a third-world person, and you have been subject to discrimination in Korea, I would like to hear your personal anecdotes as well. 5 Comments

 aconfusedman

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