Videos

Vida Marie Misook Adams was born in 1997 in Los Angeles, California, to a Korean mother and a Black father. An only child, she grew up in Koreatown before moving to Canoga Park in the Valley. As a Korean American of mixed heritage, she recalls how she often felt as though her maternal relatives were not as accepting of her, an unspoken racism which was realized in her exclusion from birthday parties and family photos. Yet at the same time, Vida has maintained a strong and profoundly intimate connection with Koreatown, the neighborhood she calls home and where she attributes the happiest days of her life to. Out of every place she’s ever been, she shares how it was in Koreatown that she felt like she “had the right to belong,” taking pride in the community’s history, and expressing an acute sadness at the fact that it has changed so much since her childhood.

Judy Han and Jennifer Chun were both born in Seoul, Korea; both also grew up in the United States. They talk about their individual experiences grappling with Korean and queer identity and the complicated interstitial space they’ve had to navigate in reconciling them. For Jennifer, “Korean American” was something she grappled with later in life; she recounts how in her childhood, perhaps owing to the socialization (and objectification) of Asian girls, she was more concerned with her gender. In college, she found the language and space to reflect on her gender identity, a process that she says is ongoing to this day. For Judy, the lines between Korean and Korean American gender and gender identity were always blurred; everything was so enmeshed with one another. They talk about how they knew they were queer from an early age but waited until college to express their identity for fear of worrying their parents. They sensed that their being queer would oftentimes disrupt Korean spaces, whether the space is church, family, or with others in their community. Though they’ve never wanted to make others uncomfortable, at a certain point, Judy realized that it was on others to put up with them, not the other way around. Both Judy and Jennifer acknowledge that there are “tensions which arise by accident” by being queer and Korean, but that they believe this discomfort can result in change for the better.

​​Jamie Issuh born in 1991 in Champaign, IL, where she spent her early childhood; in the fourth grade, she and her family settled down in Irvine, California, after spending some time in Tennessee and Korea. As a queer Korean American Renaissance woman, she talks about grappling with parts of her identity which felt incongruous with one another—throughout her 20s, she grappled with finding spaces where her Korean heritage and her queer identity could coexist. Having always been an ally, she was surprised at how difficult it was to fully accept herself. She joined @queerasiansocialclub, a social collective focused on empowering the queer and trans Asian American community, in search of a place which could mediate her identities. After moving to Koreatown two years ago, she joined a Korean dance group comprised mostly of imo’s her mother’s age; though she is still finding the courage to be fully out, she has let herself be surprised at the kindness and grace which the imo’s have extended to her and her friends from QASC.

Hyung Chang Kim recounts the memories of his father, the late Gi Suk Kim, who was born in 1926 in Namcheon-ri, Eunyul-gun, Hwanghae Province which today is located in North Korea. Gi Suk Kim had been a teacher when the Korean War broke out, but as an act of resistance against the mandatory rules carried out by the People’s Army, he joined the Guwolsan Guerilla Unit (part of the KLO), an American-led guerilla warfare unit whose soldiers took commands from American military officials. He, alongside some of his colleagues, had come under suspicion by the North Korean government for their anti-communist activities, and were captured and imprisoned; it was through the saving grace of his uncle, a high-ranking official in the North Korean government, that Gi Suk Kim narrowly avoided execution. After the end of the Korean War, his unit remained in operation in Jirisan, where he was told North Korean operatives were in hiding, to suppress the operations of remnant forces. He eventually settled in Uijeonbu, Gyeonggi Province, where he had Hyung Chang Kim, the eldest of three sons and two daughters. Hyung Chang Kim recalls his father’s acute longing for his hometown, often taking his son to accompany him on visits to the Hwanghae Province Central Residents’ Association, or the Northern Five Provinces Committee, while he reminisced with other Koreans whose hometowns were in the North of their childhoods. Though he had been healthy for his entire life, his father passed suddenly at the age of 60, having spent much of his later life longing for his home, and regretting that reunification couldn’t happen sooner. Hyung Chang Kim, who is now older than his father was when he passed, has inherited the deep sorrow caused by ideological divisions between the North and South. He wishes to meet his family in Hwanghae one day, greet them on behalf of his father who spoke of them often, and hopes that they remain healthy so that he might visit as soon as he can.

Jung Sook Han was born on August 2nd, 1935, in Pyeonggang County, Kangwon Province, Korea. Her father was a schoolteacher who was regarded highly by his community, and she grew up with older siblings as well. She remembers fondly her oldest sister as well as her brother-in-law, for whom she’d act as a courier of sorts, delivering messages and love letters between the two. Growing up in the highlands of Pyeonggang in a township called Sepo, Jung Sook and her family would farm radishes and beans which grew abundantly in the alpine climates of the Taebaek Mountains. She recalls how her brother-in-law would often shake chestnuts—a Kangwon-do staple—out of their trees as she sat under them. When Jung Sook was ten years old, she and her family moved to Hongcheon county, a county in the southern part of Kangwon (sk: “Gangwon”) Province, while her sister stayed in Pyeonggang with her in-laws. Though she received word that her sister had had a child, she never met her niece or nephew; a couple of years later, she visited her hometown with a friend to find that her childhood home had been replaced by farmland, her sister and brother-in-law gone. She did manage to find her sister’s father-in-law, who told her that the young couple had been taken further north by North Korean soldiers. Although she has accepted that she may never see her sister or her brother-in-law again, she holds out hope that she may one day meet her sister’s child in a unified Korea. She wishes to tell them where they’re from, and that they should always love and protect their country so that it—and they—never be separated again.

This interview was filmed on July 31st, 2023 in Duluth, GA.

Keum Ja Park was born in Cheongpyeong, South Hamgyeong Province, to a family who made their living by farming. At a young age, her family was evicted from their home because what they owed in taxes was much more than what they could farm, and moved to Heungnam City. One day, soldiers approached Park’s home telling them to get evacuate the city; her mother initially said they couldn’t go until her father returned home from work. Upon realizing that he wouldn’t make it back by the time the final boat left, Park and her mother boarded a boat that was so packed that they had to find space in the top level of the ship. After a nauseating voyage, they arrived on Geoje Island, Gyeongsang Province, in the South. In 1995, Park and her mother made a visit to North Korea to see her father, flying first to Beijing to catch a layover into North Korea. They ran into delays while in Beijing, and so at the urging of their guide, a Korean Chinese woman whose sister had lived in the North, they bought food to bring into North Korea in case their families didn’t have enough to eat. When they finally landed in North Korea, reuniting with their family, Park was surprised by how effective the regime’s ideological indoctrination had been: despite reports that much of the country was starving, her family insisted that food was bountiful in the North. Her father had remarried, and so Park met her half-siblings for the first time as well. Although she had heard stories of reunions filled with tears, she herself did not cry, feeling strange in front of her father whom she had last seen when she was too young to remember. They would continue to stay in touch via short phone calls until her father passed.

This interview was filmed on July 19, 2023, in Pasadena, CA.

Lori Song, 65, was born and raised in Los Angeles to Korean and Japanese parents who arrived in L.A. from Hawaii in the 1950s. She has a twin brother who looks just like her, and a younger brother as well; with regards to her mixed heritage, she describes herself as a “fourth generation person on both sides.” From as early as she could remember, Lori recalls how she had always felt a sense of relief when cross-dressing, and remembers how transformative the first time she wore women’s clothing from head to toe had been. She recalls, too, how difficult her teenage years were (though she states that “teenage years are hard, no matter the era); eventually, Lori decided to give one last shot in “trying to be a man,” but knew, deep down, that it wasn’t who she really was. Slowly, she began coming out to her friends and family, and although some responses have been more lukewarm than others, she feels joy in how today’s younger generation are accepting of her as who she is. Recently, Lori began hormone therapy, and although she says that changes have been slow because she started later in life, she encourages us to “be brave enough to just do your thing,” no matter how young or old we might be.

Lana Yu was born on March 14th, 1952, in Korea during the middle of the Korean War; after fleeing Seoul for Daegu, she and her family returned to Seoul when she was five years old. She recalls how life after the war was difficult, as food was often scarce, but she found some joy in music and singing. In 1976, she and her family immigrated to LA, where despite initial difficulties with English, Lana worked a variety jobs including at a bank, the Los Angeles City Hall, and even as a casino dealer in Las Vegas! The most formative experience of her life in the U.S., however, was when her son came out to her; tearing up at the thought that he didn’t feel like he could come to her sooner, she reminds us that “there are way people who understand you than you think,” and encourages all of us to find the people who can support us.

Kyung Wan Kim was born in 1940 in Yeondeungpo-gu, Seoul, during the Japanese occupation of Korea. When she was 2 years old, her father was offered a job in Hwanghae Province, which today is a part of North Korea. The family lived in Hwanghae Province until 1945, when Korea was liberated, after which the family moved back South to a rural part of Gyeonggi Province. She recalls how, around the age of 16, people began expressing interest in marrying her, and that because food was so scarce, her parents tried to wed her to a stranger; eventually, she ran away to her uncle who resided in Seoul. Her uncle enrolled her in school, but because of a shortage of funds Kyung Wan had to find a way to make money, which she did by offering tutoring services. She graduated with a license in typewriting, and soon began working for the National Assembly Secretariat, where she stayed until the 5.16 coup of 1961. In 1967, she married her husband who had just quit his job; with no source of income, Kyung Wan made and sold banchan for 2 years, after which she took up tutoring again. Soon thereafter, her sister—who had moved abroad to Chicago—invited Kyung Wan and her husband to come to the US, and in time the couple moved to New Jersey, where Kyung Wan became a licensed therapeutic massager, opening up her first clinic in Flushing with her husband as her assistant, and then a second one in New Jersey. Even in retirement, people still visit her at her home for her massages, sometimes bringing small gifts and fruit. Though her life has been marked by many ups and downs, she reminds us to remember that whatever happens—good and bad—will all pass one day; it’s better to find your footing in the present, and just follow the flow.

Welcome to the whimsical world of Beyond Costumes, owned and operated by Yon Yuh Zweibon for the past 20 years in Yonkers, NY. A Wharton MBA graduate and former accountant, how did this spunky woman end up owning one of the largest independent costume collections on the east coast? In this episode of NAYA, Yon takes us through infinite rows of costumes as she shares her story and the drive behind her passion for running this magical warehouse.

Meet classical violinist David Kim. A child prodigy since the age of six, David fiercely trained to be a world-class violinist under his mother’s intense supervision. In this first installment of NAYA, David graciously invites us to his home and the music hall where we explore his passion for music and the journey that led him to become the concertmaster of the Philadelphia Orchestra. NAYA (나야), produced by KoreanAmericanStory.org, is a mini-documentary series that paints vivid, visual stories of unique Korean American individuals and passion for their craft.

In the beginning of 2021, Mr. Baik and his family made the decision to close down their drop store in Midtown, NYC. March 26, 2021 was the last day. It’s been a year since we followed Mr. Baik, videotaped by his daughter, Deborah, during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic. This is the second and final part of their story.

For our final episode of Perilla Diaries, we asked Thomas and Andrew where they got the resilience to carry on throughout all these pandemic challenges. Without hesitation, they pointed to the strongest people they know – their mothers. We asked the two restaurateurs to phone them for a short interview about their respective journeys starting new jobs and lives in America.

Julian Kim is an editor, producer, filmmaker, and father of Ian, his 20-month-old son. During the COVID-19 pandemic, many families have experienced a dramatic change within their household when it comes to parenting, especially for those with young children.

Mikey Fresh is the Senior Artist Relations Manager at Genius, a digital media company known for providing unique insight about the stories behind the most popular songs. From showing up awkwardly to a hip-hop magazine interview in a full suit and a fake resume, Mikey Fresh is now one of the top experts in the hip-hop industry. Mikey shares with Julie how he fell in love with hip-hop culture growing up as a young Korean American in New Jersey and how he’s found his way creating a unique career out of his nontraditional passion.

In this #NotYourAverage, Athina and Florence share with Julie Young how they started from just a simple idea to being met with overwhelming demand from their Kickstarter that launched them into establishing their own company.

Marcus Hahm, also known as Avec Plaisir, is an award-winning sound designer, mixer, and music producer who’s worked with national brands and major labels doing commercial work, songwriting and music supervising.

2017 was an extraordinary year for KAS. Here’s a look back at some of our highlights from last year.

What would it be like for 3 generations to travel together in Korea? Walk through one family’s journey of discovering and revisiting where they come from, while passing through the natural landscapes of the countryside and modern city of Seoul.