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Dear friends and supporters of KoreanAmericanStory.org,

We are eager to celebrate our 11th Annual Gala in-person after a year of not being able to see you! We would like to share the COVID-19 precautions we have instituted to ensure everyone attending feels safe and comfortable.

I had never really attempted to express what it means to be Korean American in words until this internship. I feel like I’ve always taken my Korean American identity for granted. It has always been this intangible idea floating in the back of my mind, a mingle of different moments– the sensation of tasting my grandmother’s fresh kimchi, writing my Korean name, Korean words woven into English sentences.

This morning at work, I was contemplating what I should write about for my second blog, something I actually have passion for, something I genuinely want to share with this community.

Hi! I’m Sam and I recently graduated from the University of Connecticut with a major in Political Science.

The ideal candidate would be highly organized, detail-oriented, a strong communicator, a team player, and flexible. The Production Coordinator will be responsible for coordinating all phases of event and content production, and communication with the creative team. We are a virtual organization so you will be working remotely in addition to working some nights and weekends as needed, for events and/or meetings that may happen at non-traditional work hours.

I should be writing a personal statement for a doctoral program I’m applying to. I should be writing a one-page fluff essay talking about how much my dreams are important to me, how I’d be a good fit for the doctoral cohort, and how much I want to pursue an advanced degree.

During my freshman year, on weekends, I would take the subway from Morningside Heights, looping around 42nd Street and back up to the Upper East Side to work at a newspaper and magazine store owned by the Chois.

Everyone says food is the universal language of love. Somehow I missed it. My family and I immigrated to the US when I was 8 years old and since then, all I could remember was that our days were a blur.

My Korean name is Park Ji-Eun, 박지은. My grandparents picked it out when I was born: Ji for “wisdom”, Eun for “grace of God”. It is a name chosen with love, with purpose.

When I was applying to colleges, I had a lot of adults heaping advice on me–how to find the best study abroad programs, the best campus life, the best professors, the best undergrad programs. Also– to find Koreans.

Hi! I’m Cara, a Production and Social Media college intern. Welcome to my first official blog! This is my Korean American Story. I am 19 years old, immensely proud to be Korean American, and incredibly passionate about sharing our experiences and stories.

I rarely felt beautiful growing up. Maybe it was because of the painful red bumps that would erupt on my face overnight. Or the clunky metal braces stamped onto my teeth.

May 3rd was the day my family immigrated to the US, now twenty-four years ago. It’s also the day the last little flame of the riots of 92 went out, now twenty-eight years ago. Time is weird, isn’t it?

When Anne Frank was about my age, she documented her life hiding in her attic from 1942 to 1944 in her diary. During the horrific World War II time, she was not only confined to a small space but lived in fear. Getting flour for a birthday cake was a luxury and she had limited supplies of everything.

Umma asked me what I needed as a wedding gift. I said we didn’t need anything. She was offended.

I immigrated from Seoul to St. Louis at the age of 4 in 1982. My first language was Korean and I slowly learned my third language, English. I quickly learned my second language, baseball.

Staggering through the front door, the soft touch of my bed fills my mind. Six straight hours of classes had turned my brain into soup, threatening to drip out of my ears if my blankets didn’t cover them first.

This acclaimed debut novel deserves all the great attention and accolades it’s received. Both a turn-the-page thriller and a literary investigation of a family’s survival from trauma, both recent and decades old, the writing elevates the story into deeper understandings of the nuances in family relationships and how they seep into every act of living.

In her startling debut novel, Jimin Han captures several genres at once—a terrifying thriller, a coming-of-age story of first love, a historical novel of 1980s Korea and Korean Americans, and a work of literature with an interesting structure and use of point-of-view that only ramps up the tension.

The accolades for this fine, epic novel are deserved. In her second novel, author Min Jin Lee follows members of a family (and many equally fascinating ancillary characters) from the Japanese Occupation era in Korea, to the Korean diaspora in Japan, up to 1989.

It happened to me on a day in early July 1950. I was a student in the first grade of Bosung Middle School located in Hyaewha Dong, Seoul, Korea. At this point, I will explain Korean political and military situations.Korea was emancipated on August 15, 1945, out of Japanese occupation for 35 years since August 29, 1910. Korea has been divided between South and North Koreas soon after the Japanese Surrender on August 15, 1945, and South Korea established the Democratic Government on May 10, 1948, under the leadership of President Syngman Rhee. There was the complete and permanent division of the Korean Peninsula across the latitude of the 38th Parallel North and hostilities between these two divided Countries including the frequent military clashes.

It happened in the year of 1950 during the summer, possibly in late July. My mother, sister, and I were treading in a lonely country road heading to the village of Yongmun, Gyeonggi-do, where my sister and her family were living.

You may wonder why the date for Korea’s New Year’s Day changes every year and falls in January or February, making it confusing for some who try to keep track with America’s standard Gregorian calendar. This is due to Korea’s use of the lunisolar calendar (different from the lunar calendar) that tracks both the moon and the sun. Depending on the position of the sun and also the phases of the moon, the number of days and months in a year will vary. Sometimes there are 12 months, sometimes 13!

When Ilse Marques Kim, a former model from Brazil, was laid off from Korea Air’s cargo department at LAX, she struggled to find work for over a year.

When asked how it makes her feel to be known as the “Original Dreamer” she responded, “I’m not sure it matters… some undocumented immigrants today are saying that they think the Dreamer rhetoric is something that throws our parents under the bus because it’s exclusive to a certain number of immigrants. We have to fight this one thing at a time and eventually we will fight for comprehensive immigration reform because that’s what this country really needs.”

This past July, Karen was elected President of KALAGNY. In her short time in the position, Karen has already brought a renewed energy and vision to the over 30 year old association.

As the parent of an Asian American child, do you brace yourself for that moment? Or what about as the parent of a Black child in America?

Scenario one: Young boy’s mother dies of a long drawn out illness; just a few months later, his father also dies of a sudden and quick illness.

Why is it that every time a racist act or gesture is made against an Asian person we feel the need to excuse or give the benefit of the doubt to the transgressor?