Jung Won Jung is a longtime volunteer of over 20 years for Korean American Family Service Center in Queens, New York. She began volunteering with KAFSC after seeing a brochure for the organization at her local post office, and ever since, she has worked to secure survivors both logistic, emotional, and practical support during their times of need. As an advocate, she meets with women and children survivors of domestic abuse, accompanies them to court, and files protection orders at the precinct offices. She has also led classes on computer literacy, a crucial skill in the step towards survivors’ self-sufficiency and independence.Nowadays, she tells us that much of her work has been in outreach, connecting with community members and local politicians to stress the urgency of KAFSC’s mission. Stressing that financial independence is key for survivors to remove themselves from abusive environments, Jung Won tells us that the work of the organization builds in their clients the courage to say, “I can do this.” 

Jeehae Fischer serves as the Executive Director of Korean American Family Service Center in Queens, New York. Beginning her career as a self-sufficiency coordinator, Jeehae describes that the work KAFSC does is multifaceted: coordinating transitional housing, emergency housing, case management, a 24/7 hotline, and job training programs, among countless other services. She urges us that during these particularly trying times, we must rely on friends and allies, who can lend their support through volunteering and sponsorships, to ensure the safety of our community’s most vulnerable constituents. “We’re Korean American,” she says, “we never give up, we are persistent.”

Kevin Kreider is a model, actor, and entrepreneur who was adopted from Korea and raised in Philadelphia by German-Irish Catholic parents. Growing up in a community where adoption was normalized but identity was rarely discussed, he struggled to understand where he belonged—facing racism, confusion, and the feeling of never being “Asian enough” or “American enough.”

Stephen Park is an actor who was born in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn, to Korean immigrant parents seeking to relocate their family away from the busy city. When he was a child, his family moved to a small town called Waverly before eventually settling in Vestal, New York. Stephen describes how he became a class clown during his school days—popular among his peers, but often made fun of or taken advantage of by the same “friends,” some of whom targeted him for his ethnicity.

Charlotte Koh is the Executive Vice President of Acquisitions and Co-Productions for the Motion Picture Group at Lionsgate. She was born in Utah to Korean parents who immigrated to the United States in the late ’60s and early ’70s; they had gotten engaged in Korea before her father left for America to pursue graduate studies. The young family moved from Utah to Chicago shortly after Charlotte was born, as her mother’s brother lived in the city, and from early on, her parents emphasized the importance of education.

Ted Kim was born in Seattle, Washington, to Korean immigrant parents who arrived in the United States shortly after the Korean War ended. His father came from a line of ministers in Pyongyang and moved to Philadelphia, where he studied at seminary. His mother joined him there, and together they settled in Seattle, where she earned a doctorate while raising Ted and his six siblings—all while being a pastor’s wife.

James Shin is the President of Film & Television at HYBE America, where he develops Korean and Korean American talent—both in the U.S. and abroad—across music, film, and TV. Born in Chicago to immigrant parents with entrepreneurial spirits, James was a violin and piano prodigy who earned a full scholarship to Phillips Andover and later attended Princeton, where he served as concertmaster. After recognizing signs of burnout from his musical career, he pivoted to entertainment, studying the many pathways through which he might break into the industry.

Grace Yun is a distinguished production designer renowned for her work on films like Hereditary (2018), First Reformed (2017), and Past Lives (2023), as well as television series such as Ramy and Beef (2023).

Leonardo Nam was born in 1979 in Buenos Aires, Argentina, the youngest of three children born to Korean immigrants who left their country in the aftermath of the Korean War. When he was six years old, his family moved to Australia, where he recalls being first moved by the spirit of acting while playing the role of Edmund in King Lear during an after-school program in Sydney. He describes the world of drama and theater as a source of refuge and community from a tumultuous household.

Harry Yoon was born in 1971 in South Korea and moved to the United States with his family when he was five years old. He recalls growing up in the East Bay fondly, with parents who recognized and nurtured his passion for entertaining others at an early age. Although he did “a little bit of film school” in college, his first career was in the tech industry. Having seen his parents sacrifice so much for their kids, Harry initially chose to pursue a stable career over his dream of working in film.

Kevin Woo was born in 1991 in Seoul, South Korea, to quite the musical family: his father was a pianist, his uncle a classically trained opera singer, and his aunts were artists. Growing up in the Bay, Kevin was naturally attuned to music, singing in his church’s praise band and putting on karaoke performances with his sister at home—favorites included the Spice Girls, Shania Twain, and NSYNC.

In Memoriam. Lisa (Quan) Chong came to the US when she was 2 years old. Her mother left the family at age 5, then she was sent back to Korea at age 11, only to return to her father in Los Angeles at age 14. Despite her turbulent childhood, she graduated Loyola Marymount University and her passion is helping others by working in the nonprofit world. Hers is a story of struggle and resilience with a large dose of grace.

So Yun Um is a Korean American filmmaker from Los Angeles, California. She tells us about growing up in L.A. as a child in the ‘90s, a dynamic city full of fashion, enterprise, and of course, a large Korean community.

Daniel K. Isaac was born in 1988 in Los Angeles, California, to Korean immigrant parents who separated when he was a toddler. He grew up performing in church plays and participating in the Boy Scouts, later discovering his passion for theater through his high school’s productions. While in high school, he entered conversion therapy, influenced by his religious upbringing, but found in theater the family and community he longed for. Determined to pursue acting, he studied theater at UC San Diego, where he performed in a production every single quarter of his enrollment.

Kymber Lim, raised in Georgia, grew up fighting for her ambitions despite her immigrant parents’ expectations of a simple life. Her drive led her to college, where she thrived in production classes, impressing professors and diving into video production.

Will Yun Lee was born in 1971 in Arlington, Virginia, though he tells us that he spent much of his childhood moving around. After his parents’ divorce, he was cared for by family and friends for a while before moving back in with his father, who operated a Taekwondo studio in Hawaii.

Jeanne Yang was born in Los Angeles in 1968 as the second child of immigrant parents. She recalls how the last thing her parents expected was another child—her mother worked three jobs, the family lived in a converted garage, and her “crib” was a drawer filled with blankets—but family circumstances improved after moving to Monterey Park.

Jeanne’s first career was in law, following her parents’ wishes, but she soon became disillusioned with the legal system and pivoted towards the world of entertainment, where her career as a stylist flourished. Today, she works alongside A-list talent, magazines, and brands, moved by the question: “What will be your legacy?”

Animator and film director Peter Sohn was born in the Bronx, New York, to parents who immigrated to the United States from South Korea during the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. His father opened and operated several small businesses, from grocers to art supply stores, and his mother arrived in America to work as a nurse.

Peter’s love for drawing and animation emerged at a young age, though it wasn’t always encouraged by his parents, who had navigated the hardships of the Korean War and of emigrating to the U.S. Their experiences have shaped and informed the stories Peter animates, directs, and creates today, speaking to the valences of immigrant life which he masterfully captures through film.

Diana Son was born in Philadelphia, though she attributes most of her formative memories to Dover, Delaware, where her family moved when she was a child. A self-described “latchkey kid,” she talks about how she had been enamored with writing and storytelling from a young age through watching popular talk shows after school. This passion for creating and sharing narratives took a pivotal turn into the theatrical world when she saw a production of Hamlet in New York City with her high school class.

Despite her storied and successful career in TV, as a writer/producer/showrunner and playwriting, she believes that she is still growing, learning, and “evolving” as an artist, telling us that there’s still so much more she wishes to accomplish; in her own words, “I’m still hungry.”

MiRan Powell was born in Texas in 1964 to a Korean mother and a white father. At the time of her and her sister’s birth, anti-miscegenation laws were still in effect across parts of the United States. She recalls how their dual heritage brought them grief and confusion throughout childhood. Hoping her daughters would better assimilate into American society, her mother did not teach her Korean beyond a few folk songs. Because her maternal relatives lived in North Korea, she was never able to meet them. The stories her mother told of Korea felt like little more than fairy tales.

In her career as an actress, MiRan has played a wide range of characters, including a British heiress, Japanese maiden, and a Greek Princess. However, regardless of the roles she was cast in, MiRan tells us that her goal was always to just become “the best actress that she could be.” On stage, she has had to find and command a confidence she hoped she possessed as a child while navigating the anxieties of her identity. She has since transformed this confidence into a sense of responsibility, advocating for peace on the Korean Peninsula.

Joy Lee Gebhard was born in Tokchon, North Korea, during the Japanese occupation. When she was one and a half years old her family moved to Pyeongyang, where she remembers spending her childhood around the massive royal tombs near her home, as well seeing their exhumation and excavation by the Japanese Army. Upon liberation, her father slaughtered the family’s single cow, which had been used to work farmland, to hand out cuts of meat to the community in celebrating their independence. During the Korean War, she was brought to the South Korea by a South Korean man visiting Pyeongyang in search of his family, promising her mother that she would be able to live a fuller life south of the 38thparallel; this would be the last time she ever saw her mother. In South Korea, she found herself at a military nursing school in Busan, where both South Korean and American soldiers were fascinated by the fact that she was from the North, at times treating her with suspicion. She worked a variety of jobs to study at Busan University, one of which was as a morning news broadcaster, before receiving an unprompted invitation by a minister in Texas to come to the United States; apparently, news of a “North Korean” nurse in Busan had circulated around the world. She emphasizes how it was never her intention to come to the U.S. as it would further separate her from her family; even from America, her search for her family continued as she sent countless letters to the embassies of countries which maintained diplomatic relations with the newly partitioned country. Upon the invitation of the North Korean government, she was briefly reunited with her family in 1988, and has gone back multiple times since then.

Wonsook Kim was born in 1953 in Busan, South Korea, just after the war’s end. Upon her first birthday, her family moved back to Seoul where they had lived prior to the Korean War; Wonsook recounts growing up in a large family—the 2nd of 8 children—with her many siblings, aunts, and two grandmothers. As the 2nd eldest daughter, she felt as though she was an outsider in many ways, always in the background, while worrying about what she could do be recognized as someone who brought delight and joy into different spaces. In hindsight, Wonsook states that it was perhaps due to this distance that she was able to grow as an artist. This distance grew when she came to the United States to pursue college and graduate school at Illinois State University, which today houses the Wonsook Kim College of Fine Arts as well as the Wonsook Kim School of Art. Upon graduation, her career took a turn upon winning the 1976 Elizabeth Stein Art Scholarship which allowed her to relocate to New York City, where she worked a variety of jobs to support herself as an artist. In 1977, a passing curator noticed her studio and offered for her work to be displayed at The Drawing Center in SoHo, and the rest is history; since then, she has displayed her artwork at 67 solo exhibitions and galleries. Wonsook stresses how blessed she feels to be able to do what she loves with the full support of her husband and children, and is determined to “pay back”—her words—all those who supported her throughout her long career.

Sam Hyun was born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts, where he spent most of his life before moving to D.C. Sharing his family story, he tells us of how the immigrant’s psyche can be worn down and damaged in the pursuit of the American Dream, an experience he both witnessed and encountered through his relationship with his father. Raised by his mother, Sam recalls how she had to endure grueling hours of multiple jobs to care for her family while his father, who traveled often on business trips, was largely absent from his life. He shares with us a memory of the exact moment his father left the family for good: an argument over his mother purchasing the laundromat she had worked at for years, a decision which would improve the family’s financial prospects but one which exposed the pride and insecurities of a father who had failed to live up his myth of an American life. Today, as Co-Founder of @1587sneakers and the Director of Government Relations at @taaforg, Sam works to change both the narrative of how we as Asian Americans present ourselves, as well as the harmful narratives to which we subscribe.

Eugenia Kim was born in 1952 in White Plains, New York, to parents who immigrated to the United States between World War II and the Korean War. Because her father had worked for the US military government in Korea, Eugenia’s family had certain privileges which allowed them to relocate to the United States during the interwar period. Eugenia was born while her father was working for the Voice of America, and soon afterwards the family moved to the DMV, where she spent most of her childhood in Tacoma Park. Both of her parents were deeply involved with the early Korean American community in Washington, D.C., her father a minister of the Methodist Church and her mother a local contact for fresh kimchi for Asian restaurants in the area. After college, Eugenia worked in hospitality, then in graphic design, before going back to school for an MFA in creative writing; today, she is the author of two published novels. Believing that creative expression is a powerful means of meditating on one’s identity, she encourages anyone who has ever struggled with the question “Who am I?” to turn to storytelling for an answer.

Thomas Park Clement was born in Seoul in the middle of the Korean War. He tells us that the earliest memories he has are of the flashes and noises from explosions outside his crib area, and that the trauma of war would resurface in recurrent fever dreams for years afterward. When he was four and a half years old, his biological mother led him to a street where she instructed him to look down the road in one direction; this would be the final time he saw his biological family. Soon thereafter, a Methodist nurse found and brought him to an orphanage, where he endured constant bullying and belittlement alongside other mixed children. A year later, he was adopted into the Clement family to begin the next chapter of his life in America. Inspired by the cartoon “Clyde Crashcup,” he strived to become an inventor, and today has 77 patents to his name in medical technology, and has donated funds for members of the Korean American Adoptees’ community to receive DNA testing kits for free.

Jung Ja Lee, who sometimes goes by “JJ,” was born in Seoul in 1945, growing up with three older sisters, an older brother, and a younger brother. When the Korean War broke out, she remembers how her uncle unexpectedly arrived at her home with his own family, warning them that it was time for them to head south. Their family sought refuge at Pyeongtaek City, located in the south of Gyeonggi Province, a journey that took 9 days of walking by foot on country roads to avoid running into soldiers. Upon returning to their home in Seoul, Mrs. Lee found that while her home was intact, their furniture had been stripped of its drawers, presumably by individuals who were unable to flee Seoul but needed fires to burn. Later in life, she operated a Baskin Robbins in Toronto, Canada, with her husband, and she continues to call Canada her home. When asked by her daughter, Vivian Lee, if she has a message she’d like to tell her grandchildren, Mrs. Lee says that she wishes to spend more time with them… and that she is a confidential bearer of their secrets!

Chown Soon Cho was born in Bugok-ri, Gochang-gun, North Jeolla Province, during the Japanese occupation. When she was three years old, her mother gave her to her eldest aunt to raise as her own, a common practice at the time. It wasn’t until she was ten years old that her grandmother revealed that she had been adopted by her relative, a surprise which, at the time, developed into feelings of betrayal. Soon after, the Korean War forced Mrs. Cho to shelter with her grandparents, rather than seeking refuge elsewhere. She recalls seeing the North Korean enter her village, as well as the traumatic experience of being held hostage by them. After the war concluded, she married and had eight children before immigrating to the United States in 1984, with her children following her later. Although her life has been filled with moments of profound sorrow, she tells us that today, she finds joy in her children and grandchildren, asking for little more than their own happiness.

Myung Hee Jung was born in Yeonggwang county, North Jeolla Province, as the second youngest among eight children: she had five older brothers, an older sister, and a younger sister. When she was in eighth grade, her mother moved to the United States by herself for reasons Myung Hee didn’t yet understand, though this meant that she had to become the primary caretaker for her younger sister. After graduating from high school, Myung Hee moved to Seoul where her older sister lived with the dream of attending college; by day, she would work as an elementary school teacher, and by night, she would study and take classes taught at a broadcast university. At her mother’s urging, Myung Hee moved to America around 1989-90 so that she might get married. While she reminisces on the past dreams of a college education, Myung Hee says that if she were given the choice between college or the family she has today, she would choose the latter in a heartbeat.

Lily Kim was born in 1972 in Suwon, South Korea, as the youngest of four sisters. Growing up, she recalls having been a rather talkative child who took a keen interest in other people, which she attributes to living in a household with three older siblings. When she was 24 years old, she moved to Los Angeles to study, though she soon found a job as a reporter for Radio Korea. She tells us of certain differences between Korean American media and mainstream media, with the former needing to fulfill journalistic, outreach, educational, and advocacy roles at times. She also describes Korean American media as having a hyperlocal focus, with stories on immigration and public safety catering to the specific needs of Koreatown. As a reporter, Lily has seen how effective journalism produced real and meaningful changes in her community, from the establishment of a police station after the Saigu Uprising to the redistricting of Koreatown so that it could vote as one bloc. Her favorite story from the field, however, is when after she covered a piece on a robbed toy drive, donations from the community poured in to ensure the drive could happen by Christmas.

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.

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.

Stephanie Jang was born in South Korea the eldest of three sisters. She describes how, in the 1970s, many Koreans wanted to come to America due to political and economic turmoil; when she was 19 years old, she, alongside her parents and sisters, were one such family to immigrate to the United States after being sponsored by close relative in Massachusetts. Her life as a new “Korean American” began smoothly: she attended college, met her husband, and had a daughter. In 1994, she moved with her husband and daughter back to Korea, where she was put through a series of hardship as the sole daughter-in-law (“myeoneuri”) of her husband’s family, an unsolicited title which came replete with burdensome expectations. After having a second daughter, she decided that she did not want to raise her children in the difficult environment, and so moved back to the United States to start her life anew at the age of 39. Empowered by her education, she pursued a career in business, and then in teaching, and today works as a college counselor as well as a Councilwoman for Palisades Park, taking pride in her work to uplift the Korean American community.

Kapsong Kim (@kapsong) was born in Seoul, Korea, in 1965. He developed a social consciousness at an early age while in school, where students would be subject to perform “ceremonial marches” whenever board members visited the campus; in an effort to showcase the students’ discipline, teachers and principals would force them to march. Kim, who was the youngest and smallest of his class, would tire before the rest of his classmates and be punished by his teachers, an experience which would shape the rest of his life. In 1984, Kim came to the United States to study, and later joined the Korean Resource Center in Los Angeles to pursue community advocacy and community organization. Here, he met Yoon Han Bong, a leader of the Gwangju Uprising and a storied figure of the Korean democratization movement. Weathering financial hardship, Kim then worked in community organization for ten years, moving to New York in the meantime, after which he got married and had his first child. Having worked as a reporter before, he became a full-time journalist in the city, covering news concerning the Asian and immigrant community; eventually, he became editor-in-chief. After working at the paper for 30 years, he returned to community organization work in 2019, just before the pandemic. When Covid hit, his office began receiving calls requesting translation services for unemployment insurance applications, and over the course of the next year and a half, Kim, who had made his phone number public, personally fielded 50,000 calls; today, people recognize him by the sound of his voice in Flushing and beyond. Although the work he does is difficult, he says that there’s no other sense of feeling like accomplishing something for your community.

Mee Jung (who also goes by Mia) is a dancer who was born and raised in Seoul, South Korea. She lived with her mother and brother throughout her childhood, and recalls being doted on by her whole family; for this reason, she thinks she was a “happy girl, and a happy person.” She recalls, too, wanting to always be on stage; she loved to sing, dance, and act, so much so that even her teachers and friends called her “worldstar.” She studied both acting and dance, and decided to move to America in 2005 to pursue her dreams of becoming a dancer. Arriving in New York, she continued to study dance at a ballet school for 6 years, where she would audition for placements into dance companies. Encouraged by her partner at the time to begin her own company, she founded i KADA Contemporary Dance company in 2011, through which she later created KoDaFe, standing for Korean Dance Festival, in New York. When the pandemic hit, the dance company and festival temporarily suspended their activities while Mee Jung visited her mother in Korea; tragically, her mother passed at the end of the year, and shortly thereafter her brother as well. After an emotionally grueling court trial, she adopted her niece (who had been raised by Mee Jung’s mother), and moved to New Jersey to take care of her new family. Although the past few years have been challenging, Mee Jung says that she’s excited for her future, a truth she wants others—as well as herself—to know.

Kevin Lim was born in Seoul, South Korea, in 1961. The youngest of his family, he remembers being doted on by his three older brothers, three older sisters, and his mother; though he says his family was not particularly wealthy, he recalls having a rather comfortable childhood without much in the way of want or need. His family, concerned for his future, encouraged him to study something which paved the way to a stable career; although he held an interest in literature, he chose to study electrical engineering instead. During his time performing compulsory military service, he took an exam to serve as an air force officer on a whim and, upon passing the exam, spent the rest of his time in the Korean Air Force. After his service, he decided to work a corporate job as his family had envisioned for him, but he made sure to apply to a company with an overseas division. In 1992, after having worked at a trading firm, he moved to the United States to pursue business school; during this time, he also met his wife, whose family had immigrated to America in the 1980s. Though he never imagined he’d live in Palisades Park, he made himself unintentionally known to the community when one day he showed up to a school board meeting, leveraging his background in finance to ask questions about the district’s fiscal plans to renovate their schools. He now operates his own practice as a CPA in the area and is largely involved with the Korean American community of Bergen County, serving on the board of its school district. He feels that Pal Park is a unique place, comprised of over 50% Korean residents, and is eager find ways to better serve his community.

Soo Chung was born in Dongdaemun-gu, Seoul, in 1976. From an early age, she expressed a passion, as well as a natural talent, for the arts: she recalls how her mother would often have to hide her arts supplies because of how she’d scribble all over the walls and tabletops of their home. She feels fortunate that her parents encouraged her aspirations as an artist, even supporting her decisions to attend art school abroad in the United States; rather than returning back to Korea after completing her studies, she fell in love with the bustling diversity of New York and elected to stay a while longer to continue her career as an artist in America. From working at art galleries in Chelsea to promoting and selling her own artwork, she describes some of the initial difficulties she experienced as a career artist, at times feeling naïve in her endeavors. While working as a professional painter, she also began to work as a journalist for a Korean American broadcasting company which was based in New Jersey; from her apartment in Queens, she’d commute to her workplace which then sent her all around New York City to cover the news. Her work as a journalist, too, was a source of inspiration in mediating social issues through visual art, and she feels fortunate that she was able to do both. Today, she lives in Palisades Park and serves on the board of her child’s school district, and is active in other local and civic organizations while continuing her work as an artist.

Pastor Youngmin Jung was born in Busan, South Korea, in 1965. Growing up, he wanted to become a movie star; when he got the chance, he would talk to American GIs stationed near his home about his favorite movies and actors. As a child, he enjoyed taking part in the short skits his church put on, and when it came time for him to apply to university, he expressed a desire to study film or acting. But when his Sunday school teacher suggested that he go to bible school or seminary instead, he decided to take their suggestion to heart, and after many weeks of prayer and contemplation chose to attend the largest Presbyterian seminary in Korea. After completing his undergraduate studies, he studied abroad at Yale for an MDiv, initially thinking he would go on to become a seminarian, or a seminary professor. He worked as the director of Christian education at a number of Sunday school programs at Korean churches, something he realized provided him with a different kind of scholarship, one where he learned to communicate with younger peoples. Throughout his studies, he also worked as a college admissions consultant and a standardized testing tutor. Today, Pastor Jung is continuing to work as a pastor within his church, emphasizing an approach to faith which shifts away from institutionalized religion towards cultivating personal spirituality.

Young Hee Shon was born in 1953 in North Gyeongsang Province, South Korea, to parents who ran a successful business in the hospitality industry. At the time, workers who missed the last intercity bus out of the city would have nowhere to spend the night, so her parents operated a motel where late-night workers could spend the night. They also ran a restaurant directly next to their hotel called “Seong Buk Dong Gukbap,” which still exists today. Mrs. Shon immigrated to the United States with her husband and children when they were presented with the opportunity to obtain a green card. Upon hearing from her sister that L.A.’s Koreatown was a good place to find a job, the family chose to move to Los Angeles, where Mrs. Shon’s first job was in making banchan at the Korean market. From there, she switched jobs to work in the kitchen of the Palace Hotel, but after experiencing certain emotional hardships, found a job at the Rotex Hotel instead. After working there for a while, she began experiencing physical discomfort in her arms and shoulders, and so found work at a long-distance phone calling company, which she enjoyed. Yet the job she enjoyed most was in opening her own restaurant, which she named after the one her parents ran back in Korea: Seongbukdong. A beloved part of K-Town, she prepares each dish with love and care, knowing that the success of her restaurant isn’t dependent on advertisement space in newspapers, but in the reputation which is built in the mouths of her customers.

Janet Burt was born in Seoul, Korea, in 1967. When she was a junior in high school, her parents made the decision to move their family to the United States in hopes that their children might have access to better education. After a decade of navigating the hurdles of obtaining American visas, the family immigrated to Los Angeles in 1983, uprooting their life in Korea to join their relatives abroad. Because she moved to America a little later in life, she feels that she straddles the generational gap between Korean and American cultures, identifying as a 1.5th generation Korean American; her family speaks Korean and maintains certain Korean traditions while interacting and working within a larger, multiethnic American sphere. In the time since she’s moved to L.A., she’s gotten married and raised a family of her own; having lived in Los Angeles for over thirty years, she considers it to be her hometown. Today, she serves as the Director of Diversity and Business Development at the largest law firm in Los Angeles and is an active member in a number of community organizations in Koreatown, working to attract the younger generation of Korean Americans to engage more with the neighborhood while its elders hold down the fort.

Nancy Cho was born in North Pyongan Province in what is today North Korea, spending her early childhood there. At the age of six, she and her family moved to Seoul, and only two years later had to flee to Busan to escape the violence of the Korean War. She completed middle school in Busan before moving back to Seoul with her family to attend high school, after which she began college at Ewha. After graduation, she met her husband and had their first child, later moving to Houston where her husband had been attending business school. Restless, Ms. Cho studied to become a keypunch operator, passing her licensing examination at the top of her class. In December of 1968 she had their second child, and her husband began working at Houston Natural Gas, though as their family continued to grow, she couldn’t help but notice how barren of Koreans Houston was at the time. Four years after having their third child, the family decided to move to Los Angeles after hearing of its Korean community from a church elder. Living in Koreatown, she remembers thinking that “LA felt like Korea,” from hearing Korean being spoken on the streets to how she could get her hair done at a Korean salon. She worked with her husband at his CPA practice for forty-five years while taking care of their family, and today finds much joy in cooking at home following Korean recipes on YouTube.

Kyu Min Lee was born in Seoul, South Korea, to a family who worked for the Korean government. When he was only 1 year old, his family moved to Bogota, Colombia, after his father accepted a position to work at the South Korean Embassy, and Kyu Min grew up in Bogota until he was ten. At the time, it was not uncommon for Korean families living in Colombia to send their kids, sometimes accompanied by a relative, abroad for their education. For Kyu Min, his siblings, and his mother, this meant moving to Los Angeles where they soon found out that the economic resources they had in Colombia didn’t translate to living in the United States. His mother had to work multiple jobs to take care of her children in L.A., but soon moved back to Colombia to take care of their father, and for the first time in his life Kyu Min had to learn how to navigate the world without his parents by his side. As a teen, he recounts run-ins with gangs, being kicked out of multiple high schools, and “experiencing everything America had to offer—the good and the bad.” Encouraged by his high school art teacher, he applied, and was accepted to, the Otis School to study art, but dropped out a year later to pursue a career in the music industry, where he worked with a record label for almost 20 years. After the digitization revamped the music world, Kyu Min pivoted to operating a restaurant bar with a space to host various DJs and artists. Although he had little experience with food, he created a menu consisting of Korean-Colombian dishes from his childhood. He remains thankful for how “his life turned out,” while remaining fully aware that there were risks that could have taken him down a very different path.

Jaesook Kim was born in 1948 in Seoul, Korea, just before the Korean War began. Although she was too young to remember the conflict in detail, she remembers how her older brother was drafted into the war, never to return. Despite her family’s impoverished conditions after the war ended, they managed to continue living in Seoul; specifically, Mrs. Kim recalls living in shack near Dongdaemun Gate. Through all of the hardship, her mother desired for her to one day become a teacher, and so sent her to a special elementary school far from home which was affiliated with a teacher’s college—eventually, her mother’s dream came to fruition, and Mrs. Kim taught as a teacher in Korea for 20 years. During this time she met her husband who, after encountering business misfortunes, asked to move to the United States. At first, the couple moved to New York, but Mrs. Kim never quite felt at home in the busy city. They then moved to Los Angeles which she loved, describing it as feeling like her hometown. After experiencing some setbacks while working in the restaurant industry, Mrs. Kim decided to try to find work where she could interact with children, seeing as she’d been a teacher for all those years in Korea, eventually babysitting for children with an appetite for Korean food. Her husband passed in 2005, and she occasionally feels lonely—at times, she longs for Korea as well. Yet feels that living in America has been a blessing as well, and feels lucky to have had this life.

Cathy Yi was born in 1950 in Gyeonggi Province, Korea, just outside of Seoul. At a young age, she moved with her family to Seoul, where she received her primary and secondary education; after graduating from high school, she moved to the United States to live with some of her relatives who had already immigrated to the country. She had heard stories of discriminatory attitudes towards minorities while living in Korea and was disheartened to experience such attitudes for herself in places as unassuming as the local grocery market, but was nevertheless resolved to make a better life for herself in spite of the racism she encountered. When she was 27 years old, she married and moved to New York where she and her husband lived for five years before moving to New Jersey to be closer to her business, which was located in Philadelphia. In 1986, she moved to Los Angeles where she and her family got by comfortable while working in wholesale, though a change in fortune would later cause her to close the business. Today, from retirement, Cathy appreciates how she was able to acclimate to an American way of life early on, recognizing that although there exists cultural differences between the Korea she remembers and the America she’d immigrate to, the choices we make as individuals are not predetermined by the society we live in.

Justine Yoon was born in Los Angeles to immigrant parents. She grew up to the north of Koreatown in Los Feliz, and describes her childhood as having been lively and active: from a young age, her parents put her and her older siblings through a variety of local leagues, sports, and extracurriculars, in part so that they might grow up immersed within American culture. Her parents were active within the Korean community as well: her father operated a private practice in Koreatown, and after his retirement ventured into the restaurant business with her mother which they’ve continued to this day. Justine would often work in her parents’ restaurants, whether it was by peeling and cleaning vegetables or going out into the markets to secure the best deals on wholesale ingredients. Today, she has taken a smaller role at her parents’ restaurants to pursue her own passions, something which exemplifies a larger internal struggle that children of immigrants must personally and uniquely reckon with: how we might actualize our own dreams—which our parents worked tirelessly for—while also honoring the sacrifices that went into creating opportunities for the next generation.

Aileen Kim was born in Yanji, Jilin Province, China, in 1972, and she is a third-generation Korean Chinese: her grandmother sought refuge in China during the Japanese occupation, and her parents were born in Manchuria. She talks about having a relatively middle-class upbringing, with both parents both working as public servants, as well as attending Yanbian University of Science and Technology, where she studied English. After graduation, she worked for the school’s human resources team—her fluency across languages and cultures meant that she could work in translation and in cultural introductions with visiting students and scholars. Her husband was one such visiting student, and after the two married they lived in Ulsan, Korea, for six years, where Aileen worked as a Chinese instructor. While pregnant with their second child, the family moved to Los Angeles for Aileen’s husband’s career. Through Radio Korea, she later found work in a restaurant whose owner was also Korean Chinese; here, too, her fluency in Chinese, Korean, and English proved useful in working the front of house. Although she wasn’t aware of it at first, she came to find a sizable Korean Chinese community in Los Angeles, and takes pride in her identity. She relates to her children in understanding what it’s like to grow up Korean in a non-Korean-majority environment, and just as she held onto her heritage through the Korean language, she hopes for her children to continue using it as well.

Laura Park is a hanbok business owner based in Los Angeles. She was born in 1964 to a family that operated a textile store in Gwangjang Market in Seoul and recounted a comfortable childhood containing memories of time spent at her parent’s store. She explains how the store had been in operation since before she was born: her mother had begun working in the market when she was 18, and by the time Laura came around, she was running a textile business that had become woven into the fabric of Gwangjang. Laura initially expressed an interest in languages and so worked as a translator for diplomatic correspondences between Korea and Japan ahead of the 1988 Olympics, but realized that her true passions lay in business; with the money earned from working as a translator, she moved to Los Angeles, where her uncle lived. Following in the footsteps of her parents, she opened a hanbok store which she called “Lee Hwa Korean Traditional Dress;” before long, she was selling wedding dresses as well, and so renamed the store to “Lee Hwa Wedding and Korean Traditional Dress.” As more and more non-Koreans became familiar with what a hanbok was, she renamed her store to “Lee Hwa Wedding and Hanbok,” a final DBA change that reflected shifting attitudes toward Korean culture in the United States. Today, most of her customers are non-Korean—compared to her clientele being 90% Korean when she first began her business—and her store caters to three styles of hanbok: traditional attire, modernized, and streetwear.

Kyungbin Min is a chef based in Los Angeles. He was born in Seoul, Korea, and immigrated with his family to SoCal where his aunt lived. He knew from an early age that his calling was in food service: as a child, he grew to love the instant gratification of being a part of dinner service, even if it it meant simply setting up plates at the table (even today, he says that it’s his customers’ positive reviews that “gives him the pump” to keep on going). He worked in restaurants right out of college, and after saving enough money paid his way through culinary school, after which he worked in a variety of kitchens, from fine dining to upscale casual. Though he enjoyed his time in culinary school, he says that it wasn’t necessary for him; the food he creates today, he says, is a mashup of what he learned in the kitchens with his own added flair. During the onset of the pandemic, he and his partners were furloughed, and so they set about starting their own food businesses: one of his partners started a meal prep company, while he and another partner together launched a dry aging meat company; everything, he says, was ecommerce. Soon, he opened “Hanchic,” which to his surprise was picked up by outlets such as Eater, Thrillist, and The Infatuation: what began as an ecommerce business soon turned into an outdoor patio, which then transitioned indoors. He owes the success of his enterprises to his community, which he tries to serve by introducing Korean flavors beyond the typical kbbq or kimbap that many are already familiar with. In acting as a middleman of sorts, he hopes more people will become comfortable ordering food from the “OG mom and pop” restaurants in L.A.’s Koreatown.

Esther Kang is a researcher, educator, and Professor of Design Studies at the University of Wisconsin. As both a child and adult she moved often, experiencing life across a diverse range of cities spanning from Los Angeles and San Francisco, to Dallas and New York, and abroad in Perth, Australia, and Durbin, South Africa. Having lived in Los Angeles the longest and throughout her formative years, she considers the city to be her hometown; her family moved to L.A. in January of 1992, just months before the L.A. Uprising in April. Kang recounts how Saigu was a catalyst in her family’s discussions about race, the idea of which stuck with her as the family moved around the country: while attending school in Dallas, she was one of only two Asians students in the entire student body. As a researcher and educator today, Kang’s work centers on the political, cultural and social implications of Design, incorporating the recognition that design is more than just a means of communication, and that in many ways, the process of design itself is the product as well. She continues to ask what an equitable design process looks like, and what ethical design ethos is, questions she compels us to think about with critical and sensitive understandings of their consequences.

Sammy Kim (they/them) is a multifaceted individual: a queer artist, writer, healer, sex worker, community organizer, caregiver, and friend. From a young age, Sammy took on a caregiving role when their mother was diagnosed with Parkinson’s, moving in with relatives as her condition progressed. Seeing their mother struggle with her health, Sammy naturally came into a role of caregiving, grounding themselves in gratitude while extending empathy towards their family. By their pre-teen years, Sammy knew they were queer but felt compelled to hide it due to their Christian upbringing, even trying to “ungay” themselves to avoid eternal damnation. Operating out of fear, Sammy didn’t come out to their parents until their mother approached them about it, by which time they had been living openly for three years. Although their mother struggled to accept this part of Sammy, she affirmed her love, signaling a need for more time to understand.

Through sex work, what began as a caregiving role to provide for men seeking to feel wanted eventually evolved into a way for Sammy to heal from their early childhood trauma of sexual abuse. Their work became a way for them to deeply question their relationship to the sexualization tied to their identities. As Sammy continues to unravel the many intersections of their experiences, they choose with intention to feel alive in the present, living in the joy that stems from simply being themselves without distraction.

Andrea Hong Marra (she/her), often known as Andy, is a trans activist and executive director of the Transgender Legal Defense and Education Fund (TLDEF). From an early age, she knew who she was as a Korean American and person of color. Adopted into a white family and growing up in a diverse neighborhood, she was raised to be in touch with her Korean heritage. However, there were fewer resources available about being transgender, leading to a journey of helping her parents understand and accept her queer identity.

With a commitment to service and leadership instilled by her parents, Andy began volunteering at LGBTQ organizations in her hometown. She realized that a life of service and advocacy was her calling, a path she’s dedicated herself to for the past couple of decades. Andy reminds us that activists often prioritize their work over themselves, but the spaces they create are for them too. She encourages us to leave behind our stories so that those who come after know they are not alone, asserting that leaving evidence of our existence is a powerful act of defiance.

Mudang Sung Park (he/him) was born in Seoul, Korea, and immigrated to the Ridgewood/Bushwick area with his family when he was young. Growing up, they were the only Korean family—or East Asian family, for that matter—for blocks around, and although Sung tried his best to reproduce the joys of his Korean childhood from within New York, his new environment slowly changed aspects of his personality. Encountering racism as a child, he became withdrawn, and was disappointed that the racism followed him into college, where he was battered with microaggressions ranging from compliments to his English, to students touching his soft hair.

Sung always knew that he was born in the wrong body, but being “queer” was something he attributed to whiteness. And there was another complication to his gender: like many Korean Americans, Sung grew up in the church, and came from a family of ministers. After college, he went to seminary, where he obtained a divinity degree, and was under care at a church to be ordained when his father suddenly passed. He wanted to honor him, but because his family had stopped practicing traditional rites long ago, didn’t know how to, and left ministry, having grown resentful of the ways in which the church prohibited indigenous practices in Korea. Wanting to relearn the practices of his spiritual heritage, he sought out a mudang to mentor him in musok, and was surprised to learn that he came from a lineage of not only ministers, but mudangs as well. He doesn’t know of other trans men who are mudang, and isn’t sure if there’s a significance to his gender and his spirituality, but he feels that there must be one, as coming into the musok tradition has felt like a second homecoming into the queer Korean American community.

Vanilla Honey (she/they) is a queer architect and community organizer based in New York. Growing up on Long Island, Honey was never taught Korean by their mother, but they connected with their family and other Koreans through humor and playfulness. Being biracial, Honey often felt out of place in certain spaces, but discovering their queer identity brought a familiar fluidity between their experiences with race and gender.

Queerness has been, and continues to be, a bridge connecting them to the larger Korean American community. Partnering with friends and other queer Koreans, they helped bring KQTx(@kqtxnetwork @kqtxnyc)—a national grassroots network aimed at uplifting Queer and Trans people of Korean descent—to New York City. Queer joy, for Honey, is a mix of warmth, smiles, and a sense of safety surrounded by loved ones. They remind us: “You’re not alone. Support is out there; you don’t have to rely on yourself.”

Alexander Chee (he/him) is a bestselling author, essayist, and Professor of English and Creative Writing at Dartmouth College. Born in South Kingstown, Rhode Island, to a white American mother and Korean father, Chee’s journey is a tale woven with humor and wit. Describing his childhood self as a “financial crisis” due to being unplanned, he moved around the Pacific with his family’s fisheries business before settling in Maine, where he encountered racism from his peers.

It wasn’t until he moved to San Francisco in 1989 that he found a community. There, he not only met another gay Asian man for the first time, but also others who shared his mixed-race background. However, he was surprised to discover that even within this vibrant community, there were divisions; some gay bars excluded women, while others historically excluded Asian men.

Through his experiences, Chee emphasizes that political work extends beyond demonstrations and policy-making. It’s also about finding joy and connection in everyday moments like “going out dancing with friends, jumping on a stage for a favorite song, or just being goofy.” His journey underscores the importance of finding spaces where you belong, even within the complexities of identity and community.

Sulkiro Song (she/they) is a queer, asexual, and aromantic pastor based in Virginia. Born in Seoul, Korea, to a family of ministers, their path seemed clear: carry on the family line and become a pastor. However, at age five, their grandfather declared, “women cannot be pastors!”—their first encounter with gender discrimination in ministry. Struggling to identify with the word “queer” and navigating their sexuality, Sulkiro felt misunderstood and out of place. They knew they were asexual since middle school but were often teased by peers. It wasn’t until much later, during a pride march, that they encountered the ace flag and finally felt like they belonged.

Despite the initial discouragement, Sulkiro attended seminary, not just to study religion academically, but also to help themselves through deep religious trauma—a process they describe as “ridiculously expensive therapy.” Although they didn’t take courses in preaching or pastoral care, they felt comfortable sharing what they were learning in seminary with their congregation. Today, serving as the pastor of HAN UMC, Sulkiro’s sermons encompass queer, feminist, and anti-imperialist themes, reflecting their commitment to inclusivity and justice.

Emmett Yoon (he/him) is a trans rights activist based in Houston, serving as the Executive Director of the Transgender Education Network of Texas (TENT). Born in South Korea and adopted by a white family in the Midwest, Emmett often felt out of place and confused as a transracial adoptee. His mother reminded him that both he and the world were more expansive than he realized, instilling in him a strong sense of social responsibility and community through volunteering. As an adult living in San Antonio, Emmett noticed the lack of support and the targeted attacks toward the trans community. This compelled him to take action and start volunteering, eventually leading him to become the Executive Director of TENT in 2017. Faced with the absence of trans infrastructure in Texas and drawing on his unique experiences, Emmett continues to expand trans-focused educational policy, legislation, and community resources. It’s an enormous task, but he remains grounded by the family he has built and his belief in the inherent goodness of humanity. Emmett hopes that by creating inclusive spaces, the trans community can find their own strength to protect their joy and for the greater community to see each other in fullness to work collectively for a better future.

Ellie Kim (she/her), known as SuperKnova (@superknova), is a genderfluid trans singer and musician based in NYC. Her relationship with music began early when her parents—like many Korean parents—enrolled her in piano lessons as a child. She hated it. It wasn’t until she picked up her first guitar that she fell in love with music and started dreaming of becoming a musician. Due to the lack of Asian American musicians in the mainstream—and even fewer queer Asian American musicians—Ellie didn’t think being a musician was a possibility, so she chose the “safe route” and pursued medical school. Ellie completed school and earned a medical degree, but she is not a doctor. She is now living life fully as both Ellie and SuperKnova. Music became the vehicle for her to process emotions and her queer identity, as well as to find a community that embraces her for who she is. So what’s her advice for the next generation? “Don’t listen to me! I’m just excited for Gen Z and Gen A to come up with their ideas and make the world better.”

Queer and trans stories often go unheard within the Korean American community. By creating space and sharing these narratives, we can build bridges, learn from one another, and celebrate the diversity within our ever-evolving community. Last year, our team had the honor of interviewing nine incredible LGBTQIA+ Korean Americans across generations. In the coming weeks, we are excited to share a special edition of the Legacy Project: “Legacy Project: Queer Joy,” where we explore what queer joy means to them and their journey to finding it. A big thank you to our interviewees for being so open and allowing us to share your stories with our community and beyond 🩷

Funding for this project was made possible by Korean American Community Foundation @kacfny with support from the Reva and David Logan Foundation @revaanddavidloganfoundation

Chung Soon Ahn was born in Pyongyang, North Korea, before the outbreak of the Korean war. She lived comfortably next to the Taedong River until her father’s friend informed them that they should move to the South, as the family was at risk of being targeted by a government purge. In 1948, the entire family relocated to Seoul, where Chung Soon was enrolled in school. During the war her family left Seoul, but returned after it ended. Chung Soon, now a university student, returned to school, and upon graduation found work at the YWCA. While working she met her husband, with whom she moved to Japan, following his career. Though her husband’s company wanted to relocate him to an American office in Atlanta, Chung Soon suggested that they move to D.C. instead, and in 1964 she and her husband moved to the United States, where her husband found a new job as an engineer and she as an airline interpreter. Looking back on her life, she remembers fondly the comforts of her childhood in North Korea, but is above all grateful for both the opportunities and the struggles which pushed her to start a new life in America as well.

Anthony Hull was born in Mount Holly, New Jersey, to a Korean mother and a Black father who worked as an army mechanic. As a child, he remembers growing up in a relatively diverse community with friends who were Asian, or had Asian parents; it was in the fourth grade, when he befriended a transfer student from Korea, that Anthony began to feel a sense of pride and solidarity in his own Korean identity. In college, he remembers struggling to “half” identify with his dual heritage, feeling alienated from in-groups who didn’t see him “Black enough” or “Korean enough:” then and today, he feels that he is both 100% Black and 100% Korean. Following graduation, Anthony moved to New York to pursue a career in acting and filmmaking, where he now has his own production company to tell the stories he’s always wanted to share.

Jennifer Lee, 24, recounts her journey from Seoul, Korea, to North Bethesda, Maryland, where she now resides after immigrating to the United States with her mother and brother. She speaks about what it was like to be raised by a resilient mother who worked to provide for her young family in a new country and reflects on the love, support, and sympathy extended to her following the loss of her father at a young age. She talks about navigating college and career aspirations while switching from pre-health to computer science, where she found an interest in Human-Computer Interaction. Although initially conflicted on whether to pursue UX research and design, as this would mean more schooling rather than directly entering the workforce, her mother encouraged her to follow her passions instead of feeling burdened by the impossible weight of giving back to her family. She says that if she could give her younger self any advice, it would be to have confidence in yourself and what you do, because no matter how you feel toward yourself, there will always be those around willing to show you love and care.

Matthias Chu, 25, was born and raised in Maryland. His story is one that resonates with many Korean American young adults, with the stresses and pressures of school and adulthood on his mind while also being of the age where he’s coming into his own identity. Part of this journey, he explains, has been navigating through his relationship with Christianity and the church, from interacting with students who attend church to having difficult conversations with his parents about his faith. Another part of the journey has been learning to navigate stress productively while not getting hung up on overthinking. Matthias talks about the guilt he feels from the difference in faith with his parents, as well as dropping out from college and working for two years; in both cases, he explains that he feels bad knowing what his parents want him to be, versus how he sees himself. Nonetheless, he feels grateful that as he grows older, his relationship with his parents has improved and that talking to them has become easier—despite the personal hardships and challenges that come with maturing as an adult, Matthias’ relationship with his family has always taken precedence.

Jacky Lee was born in Incheon, South Korea, in 1957. She recounts her early childhood memories living in Korea with her mother and younger sister, recollecting in vivid detail specific moments spent with family while noting that many of those earliest memories are becoming harder and harder to remember. When Jacky was five years old, she and her younger sister were adopted by an American couple who were stationed in Japan while serving in the Air Force. Though living in Japan presented its own set of challenges—she had to learn a new language, for one—Jacky describes feeling a particular bond with her adoptive mother owing to their skin color, and overall recollects her time in Japan fondly. After the family’s period of service was over, they relocated to California where her parents started a church; it was in America that Jacky felt for the first time a conflict in identity, where she was bullied by the other children at church for her appearance. Resentful that her parents were unwilling to talk about her past in Korea and her biracial heritage, Jacky talks about the confusion and shame that accompanied questions she had for herself. In her thirties, however, while visiting a Korean beauty supply store, a worker recognized her as being Korean; for the first time in her life, she felt able to slowly reclaim bits of her Korean identity. In 2014 she visited Korea with a group of other biracial Koreans, where she rediscovered a love for the land of her birth mother. Jacky went back to Korea in 2017 to nurture this connection, and ever since she’s identified herself as Korean, Black, and proud.

Grace Lyo was born in 1946 in Gyeonggi Province, Korea. While attending elementary school, she moved in with relatives in Seoul, and after completing high school found work first as a government employee of the Treasury Department, then in the actuarial industry where she met her childrens’ father. In 1981, Grace immigrated to Baltimore with her family, which by then included young children. Opening up a store nearby, Grace and her husband worked to sustain their new lives in the U.S. Grace, who had always wanted to pursue higher education, enrolled in the local community college; her husband, who was against the idea, demanded she quit school. The couple separated and sold the store, which allowed Grace to open a new business, starting anew. Soon after, she opened a second store, and then another: at one point, she was running three businesses alone, one of which she gave to her brother when he too immigrated to the area. In 2015, during the Baltimore Protests, one of her stores suffered an arson attack which led to its permanent closure. Despite this setback, Grace talks about all the love that local residents have given her and her businesses throughout the years she’s lived in Baltimore, and how she herself harbors nothing but gratitude and a desire to give back to her community and its youth.

Dr. Chun-Kyu Lee was born in 1928 in Jeollanam-do, South Korea, and experienced the hardships of WWII during 8th grade when he was forced into labor instead of schooling to support the Japanese army. Following Japan’s surrender in 1945, Dr. Lee returned to academic life, only to face the outbreak of the Korean War shortly after starting college in Seoul. This led him to transfer to medical school, where he trained as a doctor to aid war efforts, later extending his medical expertise to Uganda during a doctor shortage. In 1972, Dr. Lee moved to the United States to pursue further training in psychiatry, working extensively in Korea, Uganda, and later in Cleveland, Ohio, despite language barriers. After retiring, he settled in Maryland, cherishing the proximity to his family as the happiest period of his life, reflecting a journey marked by resilience and dedication to serving others across continents.

Jim Lee, 61-years old and born in Namsan, South Korea, shares a story firmly rooted in his dedication to family, a story which begins in college when a mutual friend set him up on a blind date with Celeste, his future wife. Coming from two very different backgrounds, Lee was initially unsure of Celeste’s feelings, but their shared values and deep connection proved that the pair would make for a formidable couple grounded in each other as they navigated through life’s joys and hardships. A significant challenge arose with their son, Matthew, who faced health challenges from birth yet overcame them through the family’s perseverance and optimism in sourcing him the support he needed to thrive; today, Matthew leads a vibrant life, having proved those skeptical of his health wrong. Kim recounts how their daughter, inspired by Celeste’s compassion and dedication to Matthew’s well-being, would pursue a career in speech pathology, working as an advocate for children with special needs. Lee emphasizes the importance of giving back, the day-to-day gratitude, and the lasting peace he’s found in family life as he tells his narrative, encapsulating the resilience and enduring love of a Korean American family marked by struggle and triumph.

Paul Kim was born in Seoul and immigrated to the United States in 1996. His family settled in St. Paul, Minnesota, fulfilling his father’s dream of moving to America. When Paul entered middle school, the family moved from St. Paul to the surrounding suburbs, which Paul recounts as having much better schools than the city, albeit being much less diverse than the city itself. Education was of utmost importance in the Kim family, and Paul chased what he believed was, at the time, the natural pipeline that was getting good grades, getting into college, and landing a high-paying job. Paul graduated from university convinced he wanted to become a businessman, so he moved to Chicago to work as a trader. After two years in Chicago, he relocated to Portland, where he worked as the only Asian worker at his workplace, to trade grain with Asia. While in Oregon, he received an offer from a different firm in Chicago, but it wasn’t until after he moved back to the Midwest that he learned his offer had been reneged. He eventually found work again as a trader but was compelled through his faith to find a higher calling in philanthropy. In partnership with a church in South Korea, Paul leveraged the skills he’d gained in industry to buy grain and ship it to North Korea, over time expanding the type and scale of the humanitarian efforts he found himself involved in.

Jinwoo Chung was born Montgomery County, Maryland, to parents who immigrated to the Rockville area from Korea. Holding a strong conviction to help others, Jinwoo studied psychology in college and eventually found work as a case manager and counselor for a boys group home. He recounts how, in forging relationships with youth who had experienced deep familial trauma, his perspective on family-building was deeply impacted. After navigating the emotional journey of fertility treatments with his wife, the family began to look into the process of adoption, a decision spurred by the couple’s unwavering belief in the power of familial love, irrespective of biological ties. When they matched with a birth mother through an adoption agency in Maryland, Jinwoo describes feeling initial anxiety about how his community would receive the family’s adoption of a child who would not present as Korean, but that this fear was quickly dispelled. He recognizes the fears and doubts that come with parenthood, especially through adoption, yet remains steadfast in his belief that every child deserves to be known and loved, through it all guided by his devotion to faith and family.

Michael Jhin was born in Hong Kong in 1950 to a Chinese mother and a Korean father. His early years were marked by his father’s harrowing experiences in the Korean War, including being captured by the Chinese army and a daring escape back to Hong Kong, where his mother supported the family with her dress shops. Moving to the US in 1958, Michael faced the challenges of settling in a rough Brooklyn neighborhood. Later in his adulthood, his ambitions led him to become the youngest CEO of a university hospital, a role in which he embraced his identity not just as a blend of Chinese and Korean heritage but as a proficient CEO committed to utilizing community resources for the betterment of others. For Michael, who has lived in Houston for the past 33 years with his wife Susan and their three children, professional achievement defines his identity, showcasing how individual success can transcend cultural boundaries.

Born in Hongcheong-un of the Gangwon province, Dae Duck Cha was forced to flee to Seoul at age 6 due to the Korean War. His father led a March First Demonstration in 1919 in his hometown and this passion of his was handed down directly to Cha. Growing up amidst the war was rough for Cha, he had a hard time keeping up with academics due to frequently moving around and living with his older sisters. Through this period, drawing became his solace, leading him to pursue art at Hongik University and eventually join the Peace Corps as an artist which brought him to the United States. He continued to go through many more changes and relocations in his life until eventually settling in Houston. Recognition and fame within the Houston Korean Community came slowly, with his artworks showcased in galleries of others and also his own. Cha’s story reminds us of the importance of being passionate and pursuing our dreams no matter what comes our way. 

Dr. Sam Jae Cho was born in Seoul in 1949, just a year before the War broke out. When he was just a year old, his family fled to Daegu, where he resided until he returned to Seoul to study at university. He details the trajectory of his academic career, starting as an undergraduate at SNU studying Mineral and Petroleum Engineering, to completing a PhD at UT Austin after receiving a government scholarship. After finishing his studies, Dr. Cho sought to return to Korea but upon feeling that the position he was offered wasn’t a right fit, he made the critical decision to remain in the United States choosing instead to work at energy companies where the efforts of his dissertation could be better realized. Even still, wanting to contribute to the advancements in energy technology for his home country, Dr. Cho worked at creating an organization which would provide a platform for Korean students studying energy sciences in Texas to come together, share discourse, and propose emerging technologies in energy management to their home. In his golden years, Dr. Cho remains steadfast in his conviction that we can inch toward a better future through scholarship.

Bark Bo Moon was born in Seoul in January 1945, just before the Korean War. He reminisces on his journey during the war to finding refuge in Masan-si alongside his family and being faced with much violence and hardship. Airplanes that flew above them would shoot down and have to protect themselves, but the family still spread warmth to one another. After the War, he went back to school and focused on his academics, especially English. Time passes and he joins the Korean Army and experiences the Vietnam War. He highlights how during his service he was able to use his English to help his peers connect. After moving to America, he was faced with a lack of job opportunities until one day he accepted an offer to enlist in the US Army after a recruiter visited the local church he was attending. After more changes in his life in homes and occupations, he now is retired but still lives with a drive to help others for the greater good. He emphasizes that his goal in life is to give smiles and spread kindness, and warm gestures.

David Lee’s journey from a troubled upbringing in LA, marked by his mother’s bipolar disorder and abusive behavior, to finding solace and a new beginning is a testament to resilience and the search for identity. Raised in a devoutly Christian, Korean American household, he faced intensified challenges after his siblings left and his mother was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer, bearing the brunt of her abuse while serving as her caregiver. Recognizing education as his escape, David excelled academically, earning a scholarship to Georgetown University and leaving his difficult past behind. There, he formed a life-changing friendship with Kelly, whose family eventually adopted him, offering the love and stability he didn’t have growing up. This act of adoption not only provided David with a new family but also helped him to start healing from his past traumas. Embracing his complex identity as Korean, LGBT, and adoptee, David’s story is a powerful narrative of overcoming adversity through the support of his chosen family and the strength of the human spirit.

From the straw-thatched house of her childhood in Jeolla-nam-do, South Korea, to the bustling streets of Houston, Texas, Terry Sa Yoon’s life has been a testament to resilience and service. Arriving in the United States in 1970, her family was immediately thrown into harrowing circumstances following a parental health scare. Terry’s journey embodies the strength that one must grow into while transitioning to life in a new country, but also the grace of others which help us out of difficult times. Through the kindness of strangers and the support of her community, she found her calling in helping others and today works as a dedicated service coordinator at the non-profit Woori Juntos, paying it forward to make tangible differences in the lives of those in need.

Jason Cho was born and raised in Houston, Texas, in the Aleaf area. His father owned a Taekwondo School business and was the first to do so in the 70s in their respective area. All his life he trained in Taekwondo at the Dojang which helped him develop strong qualities that show in his leadership. Jason’s introduction to the hospitality industry is owed to his sister and his love for food. While visiting his sister in New York, he tried Korean Fried Chicken for the first time and decided to bring it into Houston after realizing that he would be the first one to do so. It was an all-in situation for Jason and he persevered through his journey through the lessons he learned with Taekwondo. Discipline, structure, leading by example, and being a man of action are only some of what he learned. Jason now aspires to be a representation of Korean concepts in Houston through his restaurant Dak & Bop and carry on his father’s dream of buying land and building a community by creating a Koreatown in his city in the future.

Joseph Yoo was born in Korea and immigrated to California with his parents when he was 6. Coming from a family of ministers, Joseph recounts grappling with the expectations to follow in his father’s pastoral footsteps, which he initially resisted before discovering his own personal calling to serve the church. As an adult, he describes family life with his wife and son, underscoring the challenges of embracing unconventional paths. He finds inspiration in their son’s remarkable ability to find joy in life’s simplest pleasures and reflects on the connection between joy and holiness. His story invites us to explore the intricacies of identity, resilience, and the transformative power of familial love while also serving as a testament to the unpredictability of life and the beauty that unfolds when one embraces the unexpected.

Kaein Oh was born in Korea in 1954 and immigrated to Chicago in September 1985, joining her extended family who had already been here earlier. Originally an Estee Lauder staff member in Korea, she could have chosen to be transferred to another job in the US. Despite this, she decided to follow a sudden urge to open a Korean restaurant, going against the opposition from her sisters. Owning a restaurant was not easy, as she was met with constant work and rough times. But a newfound faith in Christianity and a strong trust in her employees helped her persevere; the work never overwhelmed or scared her. Her 24/7 work days turned into 20 years in the blink of an eye and her once 9-item long menu at the very first opening grew to 85 when they closed down. After closing her restaurant, she started a catering business which she believes is her calling: “making food honestly and in turn making her proud of what she makes.” Her son now follows in her footsteps and also has a food business of his own, in which Oh helps make kimchi. Meeting God and peace led her to feel constant happiness, which her sons could see radiating from her.

Andrew Ungal Kim takes us on a poignant journey from his early years in Gyeonggi-do, Anyang-si, Korea, where childhood was spent playing soccer and badminton with neighborhood friends. Moving to a town just outside of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, at age 14, Andrew was initially enthralled by the American dream but soon confronted the reality of adapting to a new country with a different culture and language. As he navigated this challenging period, Andrew grappled with both his station as a new immigrant to the country, as well as a self-reckoning with his own sexuality. Raised in a Christian environment, he initially tried to suppress his feelings through prayer, hoping they would eventually fade away. However, at 27, he met someone in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and fell in love, forcing him to accept his true self.

Andrew’s journey also reflects the complexities of being open about his sexuality. While he had a nine-year relationship, he struggled to reveal it to his own side of the family and friends, causing a sense of isolation. Eventually his mother discovered the truth, challenging their relationship. Through it all, Andrew is grateful for the acceptance he found in some corners of his community (including some members of his congregation), emphasizing the ongoing process of self-discovery and the importance of understanding and embracing one’s true identity.

Born and raised in West Point, Utah, Tiffany grew up in a family which was rather distinct from those of her peers. As a biracial woman whose mother was Korean and father was Black, she expresses an overwhelming sense of feeling “different” in an environment which was predominantly of one race and religion. Yet Tiffany relishes in memories of her “very Korean” household, growing up with Korean food and observing Korean traditions, which she owes to her mother.

In high school, Tiffany joined the school newspaper; while in university, she continued to engage with student journalism while studying mass communication. Over the pandemic, she covered a story about local Koreans in Houston sewing masks community members, an experience that she considers pivotal in feeling accepted by the Korean community. Today, she lives in San Francisco working as an award-winning journalist, a career she values for its capacity to help those in need, bring light to unspoken issues, and affirm stories gone untold—stories such as her own.

Kyung Bin Bae was born in Seoul in 1953, at the heels of the Korean War. In childhood, he recalls growing up without financial worry, though his family’s fortunes would soon run out as he began to prepare for his college entrance exams. While in university, Kyung Bin studied journalism and, following the advice of his professor, decided to pursue graduate studies after college. After graduate school, he completed his mandatory military service and made the move to Michigan State University to continue studying journalism, which was where he met his wife.

Over his first summer in America, he bought a used car and drove to New York City to find work and start building savings before returning to school; it was in the Big Apple that he’d begin his career in the clothing industry. Returning back to Michigan, he got married and had a change of heart with his journalistic aspirations, choosing to instead move to NYC after his wife’s graduation to continue work in the clothing business. Throughout the decades, he worked in a variety of operational roles for a variety of companies, sporting a variety of work cultures, but is currently enjoying retirement, which has finally afforded him the time to spend more time with his wife, children, and grandchildren.

Jackie Faye was born in Dallas, Texas to Korean immigrants; in the 1970s, her grandparents first arrived in Los Angeles, relocated to Alaska, and finally settled in Texas. Faye strongly identifies as being queer, emphasizing the importance of acceptance: of herself, and the risks that come along with it. Yet despite Jackie’s exposure to pain and violence which seek to diminish her identity, she describes her journey as having been worthwhile for the agency and freedom she’s fought for over her own experiences and aspirations. Jackie carries on her father’s passion for music by creating and engaging with music herself, a form of art that allows her to express her thoughts and feelings, as honest as she can be. She emphasizes the importance of being true to yourself in any and every way possible, paying no attention to what others might think about you.

Soon Ki Bae, who also goes by Simon, was born in Japanese-occupied Korea in 1935 in South Jeolla Province. He recalls how the country was liberated while he was in the third grade, but political turbulence continued for much longer. The Korean War broke out when Bae was in middle school, and wartime anxiety followed him around. He was weary of police during the day, partisans at night. Political unrest would continue to spur anxiety even after the war’s end through the April 19th Revolution, and the following May 16th Coup in 1961. By chance, it was during the coup that Bae enlisted in the military to fulfill his mandatory service. After decades of turbulence at home, Bae moved to Germany to work as a contracted miner, relocating to Chicago with some friends he had made in the new country at the end of his contract. Slowly, the former miners opened restaurants, groceries, and other small businesses, building a Koreatown on the North Side of the city. Along the way, he’s been actively involved in cultural efforts such as the formation of a performing samulnori troup and even a saxophone sextet. Despite his hardships, Bae reminds us that the key to staying vibrant in one’s golden years is to continue seeking out activities that encourage youthful enthusiasm.

Becky Belcore was born in Seoul and adopted into a Minnesotan family when she was one year old. She lived there until her family moved to the southern states of Virginia and, eventually, Alabama. Growing up in all-white communities was very challenging– Becky even once believed that Korea didn’t exist because she had never seen anybody who looked like her growing up.

Through a passion for activism and organizing she found during college, Becky connected with peers like herself and eventually her Korean heritage through her area’s Korean American Resource and Cultural Center (KRCC). Although it was tough for her to get used to the space, the lens of social justice she discovered at the center encouraged her to stay; the present marks her 26th year of involvement with KRCC and her 6th year as the co-director for the National Korean American Service & Education Consortium (NAKASEC).

John Anthony Ranum was born in Pyeongyang, North Korea just as the Korean War was about to rear its head. Separated from his mother amidst the conflict, he wandered down the peninsula to Daegu, where he was placed in a number of orphanages. It was in Daegu that he’d meet his adoptive brother, an American GI stationed at Daegu air base. Adopted into a family in Chicagoland, Anthony himself would end up enlisting in the United States Air Force with hopes that he’d be able to find his mother while on duty in Korea. While stationed at Osan air base, Anthony met his wife, with whom he moved back to the United States to start his own family; today, he takes immense pride in his three daughters and five grandchildren.

Anne Joh engages in conversation with her son Alex Joh-Jung about each of their upbringings in the United States. She reflects on her life as a single mother, striving to be a “good Korean immigrant parent” raising her two sons, and having a moment of realization that what was most important for her as a parent was letting them know they always have a choice of not doing something. Anne in turn asks Alex about how he felt growing up under a working, single, and feminist mother. Alex reflects on how his mother’s convictions have shaped his political and academic worldview.

Dong Hyeon Jeong, originally born in Gyeongju, South Korea, had a unique upbringing in the Philippines due to his parents’ missionary work. Growing up there, he experienced preferential treatment, largely due to his lighter skin, and remained unaware of racial discrimination until his move to the United States in 2003, where he pursued a Master of Divinity. His early experiences as a Youth Pastor for Korean American children were marked by challenges in adapting to a new cultural context. Today, Dong Hyeon resides in Skokie with his multicultural family and actively promotes diversity and the celebration of different identities within his community.

Joseph Oh, originally born in Korea, faced a unique journey of adoption and cultural immersion. At the age of 5, he and his biological brother found a loving home in Chicago when a White family adopted them together. Tragically, after his adoptive father’s passing, Joseph was readopted into a Korean American family, that reintroduced him to his Korean heritage, culture, and traditions. Later, Joseph went back to Korea to teach English and explore Korean culture. It was during this time that he met his wife, who was also adopted. Today, Joseph is a father, determined to provide his son with the love and security he himself has come to cherish.

Soon Young Oh, originally from Gimhae, South Korea, was adopted into a Minnesota family. As an adoptee, she grappled with her racial identity throughout her time in school but found connection through cultural centers in Minneapolis. After visiting Korea and meeting her biological father in Korea, she discovered the complexities of her adoption. Now a mother, she’s committed to instilling her Korean American identity in her 10-year-old son and is active in the Korean adoptee community, seeking connection after a childhood marked by isolation.

Born in Korea, Matt Miller was adopted at nine months old and raised in Elgin, Illinois, where a predominantly white environment shaped his perspective. Growing up alongside his biological sister, he found strength in their bond. It wasn’t until his early 20s that he embraced his Korean identity, finding solace and connection through a local church community. Now a parent of three, he has created his own interpretation of Korean tradition, embracing the complexity of identity and family.

Born in Seoul and adopted into a Minnesota family several months old, Bree Yoo-Sun McLeun’s upbringing extended across two worlds. Balancing her Korean American identity while adhering to familial expectations left her feeling alone throughout her childhood. Later, after unexpectedly becoming a single mother during her college years, she found purpose in connecting with her community and healing through motherhood, while raising a multi-racial child.

Myung Kun Park’s life mirrors Korea’s tumultuous history, celebrating liberation from Japanese occupation in 1945, only to face the peninsula’s division soon after. Challenges under Communist rule and his father’s arrest prevented them from moving to the South. Amidst suspicion, Park reluctantly became an informant, navigating the Korean War’s outbreak and his brother’s disappearance. Later Park joined the South Korean army, where he endured injury before excelling in medical school. His story is one of adapting to various identities under flags like Japan, North Korea, South Korea, Canada, and the United States. Today, he reflects on a guiding force that led him through difficult and dangerous times, as well as happy times.

Issun Park’s life has been shaped by unexpected relocations and experiences. Born in Kaesong, North Korea, she spent most of her childhood in Seoul. At the age of 8, her family had to leave Seoul urgently, crossing the Han River just before it was bombed. They managed to escape the city safely. Later, her father found a job with the US Army stationed in Tokyo, where they lived for seven years before eventually moving to Okinawa. In 1962, Park emigrated to San Francisco to join her older brother. It was there that she met her future husband through a mutual friend, got married, and had three boys together. Despite her diverse background, Park never felt out of place in America and has embraced the liberal values instilled by her father.

Chris Park, a 2nd generation Korean American, grew up in the States, mostly in the suburbs of Kansas City and San Antonio in the early 70s. While he experienced fewer instances of racism during his childhood, college introduced him to the Korean American community and its diverse relationships with identity and language. He noticed a “You’re either with us or against us” mentality within the community, leading him to distance himself due to a lack of shared values. Despite this, Park finds other ways to support the Korean American community and cherishes the importance of preserving his grandparents’ remarkable stories for his daughter to remember and appreciate.

Bomin Kim was born in South Korea and moved to Australia at age 11, where she was primarily raised by her grandmother due to her parents’ separation. Initially struggling with language and cultural differences, Kim found comfort in excelling academically and forming lasting friendships. Surprisingly, she later embarked on a journey of global travel and eventually received a job offer in the United States, prompting her to move there in 2012. Fondly cherishing her grandmother’s teachings of kindness and love, Kim is now determined to pass down these invaluable lessons to her own daughter. Embracing her role as a global citizen, she has found her voice and is dedicated to advocating for positive change.

While fleeing for their lives, Kwon Sook Young vividly recalls the evacuation journey with her family from Andong to Busan aboard a freight train. Amidst the chaos, a heart-stopping moment occurred when Young found herself surrounded by bags of rice as a large water kettle came crashing down upon her from a nearby bomb explosion. Her motionless body led her family to believe she died; however, against all odds, they discovered her crawling out alive and breathing.

From attempting to sell Korean pears to nearby soldiers to her father narrowly escaping execution, the Korean War served as just one chapter in Young’s life of survival. Young eventually relocated to New York, and a profound sense of displacement enveloped her as she grappled with the challenges of language barriers and cultural shock.

Today, Young’s thoughts often gravitate towards themes of mortality and aging, contemplating how to gracefully navigate the inevitable aftermath. Despite the passage of time, she continues to reside in New York alongside her family, desiring nothing but the best for them and hoping they may lead long and healthy lives.

Dr. Samuel Sang Gook Lee was born in Daegu, Korea in 1935 during the Japanese occupation. Recalling the Emperor’s Oath that Korean students had to recite every day in school, Dr. Lee reflects on feeling shame for obeying Japanese rule. He was forced to learn Japanese and obtain a Japanese Sur name during the occupation. His local church was the only place where he found community and positivity.

Later when he was 15 years old, Dr. Lee served as a house boy for 3 years where he ran errands for the U.S. soldiers on their military base. It was during this time that he suffered from severe depression and anxiety, which he carried with him throughout the rest of his life. Since immigrating to the US, Dr. Lee continues to pray every day to bring healing to himself and his family impacted by generational trauma.

Born a 2nd gen immigrant in Bakersfield, California in 1940, Irvin Paik recalls his unease around his Japanese neighbors and witnessing his parents face a lot of discrimination from white Americans. Irvin discovered a passion for theater in junior high school and continued to be involved with producing, writing, and acting in plays throughout high school and college. He even won an award in a Shakespeare competition at UCLA. Irvin also worked in photography, even pursuing a career in it, though he faced discrimination from employers.

Irvin later found work in the army, filming training videos, serving in Vietnam as a combat photographer, and working as a script supervisor at a pictorial center in Long Island City. He also worked filming a television show for 14 years. After leaving the army, Irvin began filming nature documentaries, and, following a mandate from the Justice Department that encouraged the hiring of minorities, he was able to pursue film editing. With Koreans achieving huge successes in the modern entertainment industry, Irvin encourages young people to follow their dreams.

Barbara Uni Lee Potter was born in the San Francisco area in 1943. She did not know she was adopted until she was 13 years old, and soon after had to navigate a complex history of family and lineage — a secret her family and community had kept from her. Barbara carried this tangled unknown with her until she was 45 years old when she decided to search for her birth mother. Barbara’s story teaches us the similarities and distinct differences of being adopted into a same-race family.

Mike Kim was born in Korea but grew up in the United States. After struggling to find a job during the 2008 recession, his cousin invited him to live in Korea for a year. Initially intending it to be a temporary move, Mike eventually sold all of his belongings and has now been living in Korea for the past 14 years.

Since moving to Korea, Mike has constantly taken visiting friends to good restaurants, which ignited his passion for exploring and trying new Korean cuisine. Today, he has founded a food tour business that provides tourists with a delicious Korean food experience. Through food, he wants to share the beauty of Korean culture with as many people as possible.

Albert Kim was born in the US and spent most of his childhood in Orange County, California. Attending a private school with a small Korean population, Albert had a tough time dealing with the microaggressions of his peers and fitting in at school, challenges he faced for most of his childhood. While studying at Arizona State, Albert decided to move back to Korea, where he finally felt more comfortable and accepted– feeling at peace for the first time. Albert believes that his identity as a Korean-American has allowed him to be more well-rounded and empathetic as a person, especially towards other minorities that face discrimination.

Born in the US, but having grown up in Korea and attending an international school, Eunice Lee never felt fully Korean or fully American as a child. After a swimming injury, Eunice discovered musical theater as an outlet for her creative energies and eventually went to NYU for it.

Going to NYU after living in Korea for most of her life, Eunice faced difficulties with culture shock, assimilation, racism, and homesickness. Nevertheless, Eunice was able to find her niche through a Korean church and Korean American society. As someone who identifies as neither fully Korean nor fully American, Eunice carries a unique Korean American identity, as well as unique perspectives on Korean and American culture.

Michael Song moved to Korea at the age of 22 after experiencing difficulty finding employment in the US. Born and raised in LA, Michael was immediately immersed in Korean culture upon starting full-time work in the country. This experience went beyond culture shock, providing Michael with an understanding of his parent’s immigration experience in the US and a new context for decisions they made when he was younger. Now, Michael strives to find a balance between his personal journey and cultural and societal expectations.

Born and raised in San Jose, Aaron Choe always knew he wanted to reconnect with Korean culture. In high school, he discovered 90s K-pop, which sparked a curiosity that eventually led him to visit his sister who lived in Korea. Aaron fell in love with the country and ended up moving there permanently in 2008. Since then, Aaron’s been living in Korea as a film director and DJ. Making sense of his identity, Aaron has fully embraced his Koreanness and encourages others to move there to truly experience the country.

Born in Busan, but raised an adoptee in Iowa, Zach Benson grew up looking and speaking differently from his mainly white peers. Zach struggled with fitting in and participating in class until he discovered a passion for breakdancing in high school. When Zach was 23, he came to Korea to learn more about his heritage and search for his birth mother, with whom he was finally able to reconnect. Zach later moved to Daejeon, where he worked as an RA at a Korean international school, to spend more time with his birth mother.

Born a Korean American expat in Korea, Denny Hong grew up in various international and military schools in Korea, the U.S., and Germany. Denny’s family finally settled down in Memphis when he was in high school. While living in the states brought its own set of struggles, including racism, Denny has never let the challenges of his past define him. After returning to Korea to reconnect with his family and roots, Denny found himself enjoying life in Korea, keenly observing its shifting culture. Denny continues to live in Korea, and he now works as a radio broadcaster.

Born in Flushing, Queens, Albert Kim was raised speaking Korean by his grandparents throughout his time in elementary school. Even after his grandparents moved out, Albert maintained a connection to his Korean heritage through the practice of Samul Nori, traditional Korean drums. These connections grew stronger after Albert and his family moved to New Jersey while he was in middle school, and Albert found himself surrounded by even more Korean Americans in his community. Upon moving to Korea in his adulthood, Albert grappled with living with alopecia in a culture highly sensitive to physical appearances. Having moved around a lot throughout his life, Albert has learned to enjoy life by living in the moment.

Christine was raised as an American in a white family— far from where she was originally found, a train station in Daegu, Korea. Despite feeling fortunate for her loving adoptive family, she still felt and looked different, influenced by classmates that bullied her.

Years later, in 2018, Christine saw an online post about a welcome home program. Inspired by the documentary Lion, in which a man found his family on Google, she discovered the Korean American Adoptee Facebook group and was able to travel to Korea for the first time. The feeling of being home removed an unknown tension she had felt in the US.

The following year, she received confirmation from a DNA test that she has a sister living in Belgium. Reunited through the internet, they immediately felt a connection. They met for the first time in Korea, in an emotional reunion that prompted monthly trips to Belgium before COVID. Having reunited with her homeland and family, Christine has found satisfaction and peace in her Korean American identity.

Born in Korea and moved to the U.S. by age 8, Namjun Cho’s parents wanted to provide a better education for their children. Seeing how much diversity that the States provided, Namjun’s parents decided to lengthen their stay to see their kids graduate. Along the way, Namjun had a hard time in school, feeling little sympathy from the community as he would find himself in conflict with other students; never being able to share his side of the story because of the language barrier. After years of adjusting to America, Namjun then returned to Korea in late-July of 2020 to fulfill his military duties. Because of his need to learn English to get by in the States, Namjun found himself now struggling with his native-tongue and self-proclaimed American identity, which earned him no support yet again. Caught in between, Namjun went into training and service feeling Korean, and has come out on what feels like the distant other side of being American.

One night in Seoul, Tae Kim found himself in a Burger King, struggling to order his meal. Despite being able to speak Korean fluently in his home of Koreatown LA, he quickly found that it just did not translate so smoothly in his new home of Korea. As he tried paying for the meal he didn’t even want, Tae felt the realness of culture shock. Doubt and fear permeated as he began to settle into the new city, leading him to ask friends about finding mental health counseling. To his surprise, his struggle was met with judgment. Certain that he couldn’t be the only one, Tae took action. Starting with a Facebook group to provide a safe outlet for people struggling with their mental health in Korea, it became clear that he really wasn’t alone. So he made an app called “Gideb” where people could remain anonymous and find the right resources and access to the mental health support they need. Now, Tae is grateful to be living in Korea with his wife and son, happily running his company.

The son of a pastor, Sangmin moved from Korea to McLean, Virginia at a young age. Reflecting on his parents’ struggle to provide for their family, Sangmin resolved to become an entrepreneur and make a lot of money. However, after moving to Korea in his late twenties, Sangmin found a new, though familiar calling in the ministry. Following in his father’s footsteps, Sangmin became a pastor at Jubilee, a church in Seoul. Having served at Jubilee for upwards of seven years, Sangmin was made the leader of King’s Cross Church, a new, English-speaking church in Seoul created by Jubilee, where he still serves today.

Michael Hurt identifies as a visual sociologist, melding his draw towards street fashion and photography with his passion for observation and studies in race and gender. With a mixed background, his mother Korean, father African American, Michael’s interest in identity started early, carrying him through his academic years, eventually bringing him to live and work in Korea since the 1990s.

An immigrant to Mercer Island, Washington, Kyu Lee recalls not knowing anything about Korean culture aside from the obvious, he and his family were all born there. It wasn’t until after college that Kyu began to be exposed to Korean entertainment. In 2005 during a vacation to the motherland, he watched “Taegukgi: The Brotherhood of War” for the first time and was blown away. Working for Sony at the time, Kyu flew home and enthusiastically told his team about the film. It was quickly picked up and distributed in the States, making it the first Korean film screened in the U.S. entertainment market. Sparking Kyu’s pride and desire to introduce Korean content to the States, he quickly built his network from there, ultimately leaving him responsible for the U.S. viral sensation “Gangnam Style”. Life is still a crazy rollercoaster ride for Kyu as he continues to work in film and distribution. As he rolls with the punches, he hopes to continue to uplift and provide opportunities to those around him.

As an anti-racist facilitator and overall creative, Kayla Kim Votapek leads a life of perpetual acceptance of growth and movement towards understanding, but getting there has come with its own challenges. Having grown up in an Italian American family of New Jersey, Kayla found closeness at home, yet felt unseen as an adopted Korean in a mostly White upper class town. To work through questions of identity, Kayla found the freedom to express herself through the arts and performance. This further ignited a passion in her to help others feel seen and heard, to facilitate spaces that nurture communities through action, communication and reparation.

For now Korea-based Sarah Chase, being Korean was first understood in the form of a dinner table split between American food and Korean food, taking shoes off in the house, and the smell of her grandmother’s jjigae wafting down the block on her walk home from school.

At age 15, with a natural talent for perfect pitch, Edwin Kim quickly immigrated from South Korea to New Jersey’s very own Palisades Park to attend Juilliard’s competitive pre-college program. Rather than encouragement for his gift of music, he was met with doubt and accusations of plagiarism from instructors. As a student and young immigrant, Edwin recalls this incident causing a deep struggle to prove himself, almost bringing him to end his own life. With a lot of perseverance and eventual support, Edwin is now known as a “jack of all trades”, breaking his life-long music career down into five key roles: concert pianist, singer, arranger, composer, and writer – always following his heart and doing what’s right for himself.

Corey was born in Seoul, South Korea, and adopted with his twin brother to a white American family in Iowa. Though his home city was not small, there were not many Asians or a support system, leaving him to navigate the trauma of separation and the confusion of his Korean identity alone. The pain he felt culminated throughout the years, and he soon found himself in foster care because his parents couldn’t control him.

Matthew Pellegrino was born in Chungcheongnam-do Province, South Korea, and adopted into a white American family in Long Island at four months old. His parents supported him to the best of their abilities but he always knew he was different and faced many instances of discrimination and bullying as a child. It was not until pursuing his masters in music composition at Johns Hopkins University that Matthew truly began exploring Korean culture and what it meant to him.

As a kid, Ducky Chang didn’t see his parents often because they worked long hours running a grocery store and other jobs here and there. He saw them working as fluidity and felt encouraged to try anything that interested him. One thing led to another, and he decided to pursue film at California State University. Ducky dropped out two years into school due to an injury, so he took that opportunity to explore whatever he wanted.

Alex Pryor was born in DC, grew up in Maryland, and spent many Sundays in Virginia. Being half Black and half Korean, Alex describes his story as “perpetually on a bridge” – often having felt lonely and the need to fit in. When he entered college and joined a group for mixed-race students, it gave him an insight into where he belonged and the tools to understand race, ethnicity, culture, and nationality. Living in Korea has always been a dream, and now that he’s been living there since 2020, it’s been a liberating experience to navigate life on his own terms.

Professor Scott McLaughlin went to Korea to learn about the culture, his background, and most importantly, to find his biological family. After two years of searching, he concluded that finding them wasn’t meant to be. Since then, he has been residing in Korea for the last 15 years teaching and connecting with people with similar mindsets and backgrounds. In this Legacy Project interview, Professor Scott recognizes that he is still navigating what that means to be Korean. As he continues to explore who he is and the person he wants to become, he hopes that people create special moments for themselves to find a little jeong in their life.

Tony Chung has always dreamed of being an architect, but after going on a mission trip with his church in high school, he found his calling. Tony attended Wheaton College and majored in Bible Theology. After one summer at Yonsei University’s Korean language program, his heart for Korea and fellow gyopos(Koreans of the diaspora) grew. Tony learned that many Korean Americans who have fallen out of the church are also deeply hurt by them. By showing grace and being gracious, he hopes to build space for Korean Americans to explore their faith and be more inclusive of one another.

Janet Russell was a military kid born in Germany to a Korean mother and a Belizean father. She didn’t grow up seeing any Koreans around her, and since she was more acquainted with her father’s family, they told her that she was Black and needed to identify with her father’s race. So she lived her life identifying as Black.

Joseph Kim left Korea at four years old and grew up in Colorado Springs. His father felt strongly about their Korean heritage and emphasized the importance of speaking Korean. Joseph currently resides in Korea and shares his unexpected journey into the Korean music industry as a songwriter and producer. With many songs and hits under his belt, Joseph recognizes the large range of talents in Korea. He is now at a point in his career where he wants to nurture and guide the next generation of creatives in the Korean music industry and hopes to showcase their skills to the world.

Born in 1968 in Gimpo, South Korea, Peter Han recalls his mother bringing home food, ingredients, and even leftovers from her job to provide for the family. At ten years old, Peter’s father becomes sick and passes away. Two years later, his mother remarries a white American man she met at the military base she worked at and soon moves everyone to the US.

Born in 1950 during the Korean War, Kyung Koo Park was the weakest child in her family. They didn’t have much, but Mrs. Park recalls never going hungry and being thankful to her mother for raising her to be a strong and proud person. In this Legacy Project recording, Mrs. Park also shares her journey and what it was like living as an immigrant in South Carolina during the 70s and 80s. She has learned not to make assumptions and hopes future generations learn and communicate with the different communities around them while never forgetting their roots.

John Song would describe his childhood as atypical. He and his sister were latchkey kids who didn’t follow the traditional path a Korean American kid should take and experienced lots of bumps on the road. At 11 years old, John’s father passed away from cancer; six days later, his 17-year-old sister gave birth.

Jennifer Chung grew up in San Francisco constantly surrounded by music and dance. Her mother was a traditional Korean dancer and her father was a recording artist and radio DJ. Even after her parent’s divorce, she recalls traveling around in her mother’s van performing and falling in love with music.

Sarah Park was born in Seoul and immigrated to the US in middle school. As a child in Korea, Sarah noticed inequalities and injustices surrounding her and would try to create a space where everyone was equal. She would make sure classmates would have resources and offer support when needed.

Born in 1935 during the Japanese occupation of Korea, Choong Shik Cho recalls constantly struggling and facing hunger. When the Korean War broke out, he was 16 years old and spent the first three months hiding in a dark basement because his family feared he would be drafted. Although his family didn’t have much, he remembers his parents’ deep devotion to providing him and his seven siblings with food and support.

Katheryn Kim was born in 1940 into a yangban, or a noble, family in Gyeongju City and grew up in a strict and traditional home. Her father was not like most men of his generation and did not want Katheryn to marry until she completed college. Katheryn completed school but refused to get married. She ran away from home and hid from her family, but life had other plans. Katheryn, to her surprise, found a match on a blind date her parents had set up and soon got married.

Mila Konomos was born in Seoul, South Korea, and adopted into a white American military family stationed in Japan at six months old. As an infant, Mila would cry and screech nonstop. It wasn’t until her adoptive mother was flipping through tv channels she immediately stopped crying when she heard something familiar, Korean. This story was often humorously shared with Mila but for her, it’s a story about grief and severance.

Amanda Assalone was born in Seoul, South Korea, and adopted into a white family in Tulsa, OK. She always believed she was given up for adoption because her birth mother was young and could not financially raise a child. Amanda never intended to search for her family and always wished them well. So when she received an email saying they’d been found, she quickly learned the truth. Her story had been fabricated and she was given up for adoption because she was not a boy.

James “Uzuhan” Han was born and raised in Washington, DC, and often worked at his family’s dry cleaning business. As a child, witnessing his parents interact with customers gave James insight into how the world viewed them and a desire to protect his family. It wasn’t until middle school that he discovered hip hop, allowing him to channel those feelings and connect with himself and his peers in a new way.

Hee Shin Suh was born to a noble, or yangban, family in 1924 in Jangsu, Jeollabuk-do. Mrs. Suh grew up with hired help and openly shares she wasn’t familiar with household chores when she immigrated to Ohio. She even recalls giving her kids under or overcooked rice multiple times and struggling to cook Korean dishes. Seeing her neighbors working and feeling unproductive at home, she found work as a seamstress and continued to work there for the next 20 years.

Dr. Kee Ok Cho’s father firmly believed that women should have access to education. While attending vocational school, Dr. Cho knew she had to go to school in Japan like her sister in order to get the best education possible. Plans quickly changed when Japan began to lose the war. She instead had to attend school in Korea to reduce the chances of being taken to become a comfort woman. Soon after, the Korean War breaks out.

Now as a student at the University of Houston, Kwon Teimchaiyapoom recalls her childhood as a restaurant kid. Kwon being half Thai / half Korean, was brought up in a Western household; never feeling connected to either culture except through the food her family served in their restaurant. It wasn’t until recently, when her parents’ divorce became finalized, that Kwon began to see a shift in her mother, who began to immerse herself into the Korean community of Houston. Seeing her mother make kimchi every week and watching more Korean television sparked a reflection within Kwon herself, to begin her own search for identity. As Kwon continues navigating her place in the world, she hopes to unravel more about herself and her roots.

Susan Jhin became her mother’s primary caregiver after enduring multiple fractures from a serious fall. Providing her with constant care in her home in Houston, Susan began to see hope for her mother’s health. However, after three months of progress, her mother suddenly stopped eating. After a doctor’s visit, Susan was given the difficult task of telling her mother that she had pancreatic cancer with not much time left.

Nam Young Park, born 1931 in North Korea, describes his childhood throughout Japanese occupation, recollecting what it meant to be Korean at that time. After Korea’s eventual independence, Nam began his dream of becoming a lawyer at Korea University. To his dismay, the Korean War broke out just one month into school and he was quickly recruited as a young soldier.

David Shin recalls his dad expressing their family’s immigration to Canada as being “for the sake of his children” despite their struggles with money. Watching his father balance a difficult life of buying properties and paying mortgages– “asset rich, cash flow poor”– led David in a completely different direction towards engineering and law school. He was able to make his own successes during his time in Houston, earning his way up in the world, but still struggled with the guilt ingrained in him from his experiences at Baptist churches. He’s currently on the path to find peace by giving back to his community any way he can.

“Sangsun Yaksu (상선약수, 上善若水) Flow with water, flow with nature” are the words that Dr. Casey Youn continues to carry with him as he flows through his own life; taking any opportunities that comes his way. Born just 7 years before the Korean War broke out, Dr. Youn developed an altruism to give back to community after seeing the aid that the U.S. gave back to Korea during a time of devastation and need. To this day, Dr. Young uses his various work skills – which range from chemical engineering to coffee shop owner – to give back to his Korean American community. He now acts as President of the Korean American Association & Community Center of Houston.

Hae Jung Grace Lee never dreamed of getting married and having children due to her weak body until she met her husband. He was a charming and smart man with a dream of one day receiving a Nobel Peace Prize. In 1996, they both immigrated to Houston, TX where he was offered a position as a postdoctoral fellow at the University of Texas where he could pursue dreams. But shortly after moving to America, the IMF crisis hit Korea and all opportunities in his field disappeared, forcing them to pivot and forget their dreams.

Sang Hui Juhn was born in 1932 in Wonju, Korea, and attended six years of primary school under Japanese occupation. She recalls not being allowed to speak Korean at school and working to provide supplies for the Japanese army instead of studying not fully understanding what was going on. Most of all, she remembers the name she was given – Kiyomoto Eiko. The occupation ended once World War II ended but soon after, conflict began to rise between North and South Korea.

David So was born in South Korea in 1987 and moved to the United States with his family in 1995. Reflecting on his experiences as a 1.5 gen Korean American pastor’s kid, David shares the complexities he’s faced with his own identity but also frustrations he had with the Korean church.

As a freshman in college, Tina Kim rode on the back of her cousin’s motorcycle and got into a terrible accident that completely compromised her mobility. Her mother had to bathe her, feed her, and even teach her how to walk again. But the most challenging part for her wasn’t the physical recovery, it was the emotional and mental recovery. Tina openly shares her journey with mental health and depression while reflecting on how her mother’s love and support helped her overcome one of the darkest moments in her life.

Dona Kim Murphey was born, raised, and still resides in Houston, TX. She experienced prejudice as a woman for the first time when trying to negotiate a deserved higher position. That question of value based on her identity in conjunction with the 2016 election led her further away from an expected path of continued training in academic science.

Helen Chang has formed a steady habit of making the most of whatever life throws at her. At 19, she spun her failed entrance exam to Ewha University into gold, when she chose a different path at Joseon Hotel as an English-speaking receptionist for VIP guests. She rubbed elbows, earned lots of money, and fell in love; eventually leading her to Germany and Las Vegas, then ultimately settling in Texas– all whilst craving the kimchi she missed from home.

Through the smell of beondegi and dalgona wafting through the air, Ken Hong felt instantly welcomed back to Korea despite spending many years away after his family immigrated in the 1970s. After many stints of living in Korea while traveling around Asia for work as a PR representative, Ken is now proud to call Korea home and provide a more rooted and immersive cultural experience for his teenage daughter; something he lacked in his own childhood in America.

Frank Nam would describe his youth in the Tri-state area as “Korean on the weekends and American on the weekdays.” After graduating from Rutgers as a history major, he never expected to land a job at MSNBC.com as a web developer; later moving on to Microsoft. He then spent the next 24 years in Seattle exploring different sectors within his career before being suddenly laid off during the 2001 recession, thus facing many emotional stressors throughout a year and a half of unemployment. He finally confronted himself and laid out two options – go back to NY or stay in Seattle to explore his passions instead of being what he thought a good Korean American Christian should be.

Adopted from South Korea to a family in Central Minnesota at just 5 months old, Karl Johnson didn’t always feel a sense of ownership over his Korean heritage, which is exactly what brought him back to Korea in his adulthood. Karl shares his own poem “Baa Baa Yellow Sheep”, which questions what you’re left with when you’re stripped of your original culture, family, country as a transracial adoptee.

Robert Joe was born in NY and raised in Texas after his father decided to quit his job at Samsung to stay in America during the ’70s. As a child, he was drawn to his creativity and eventually grew up to pursue film studies at the University of Texas after realizing the impact movies made on his life. Since moving to Korea in 2002, Robert has been able to reflect on his limitations as a Korean American living there– from issues with its healthcare system while taking care of his sick mother, to questioning what he as a Korean American has to offer the quickly growing country.

Grace Kim was born in Dallas, Texas and was raised in a town a little outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Growing up, she didn’t realize how different it was to be a Korean American until her friends made negative comments about her bring kimbap to share with everyone for her birthday. In that split second, she thought to herself that she didn’t like it anymore. Wanting to find an outlet and explore life further, Grace took on hobbies such as dance and photography to show her creativity.

Peter Kim was born in South Korea and grew up with a large, close-knit family that worked together at his father’s business. After immigrating to Canada at the age of 10, he soon realized how displaced he was with the rest of society. In this Remote Edition of Legacy Project, Peter sits down with his daughter, Cara, to talk about his journey through his view of the world as a Korean, Korean Canadian and Korean American. He shares his regrets of not teaching his children to be more immersed in Korean culture, but also emphasizes the importance of being an open book and having common understanding. He hopes for Cara to lead a positive and fulfilling life while growing confident in her own identity.

Before his first birthday, Linus Kim and his family moved to Bessemer, a town outside Birmingham, Alabama, after his uncle asked his parents to take over their business. When a friend invited him to visit Korea, he took the opportunity and brought along his barbeque rubs and spices. He somehow found a way to make barbeque and began to pursue popups to sell his pulled pork sandwiches. To his surprise, they were a hit and realized he was on to something and knew he had to head back to the US in order to learn more than just making pulled pork sandwiches. He traveled from town to town, meeting new people and learning new techniques. He eventually got to Batesville, Arkansas, where he trained to be a barbeque judge. After a few years of running popups in Korea and participating in competitions in the US, Linus opened up his own restaurant in Itaewon.

After six years of living in LA, Soon Ja Rhee and her husband decided to open up a video rental store. But within five years of running the business, news broke out about riots happening across LA. Mrs. Rhee vividly recalls her next-door neighbor rushing over to tell her that they saw their store on fire on the news. Her whole family hurried back to the store and saw everything had burned down. This year marks the 30th anniversary of SaIGu (4.29).

Carol Park grew up working many hours at her parent’s gas station store in Los Angeles, California. On April 29, 1992(SaIGu), the 1992 LA Civil Unrest broke out when she was 12 years old. Carol recalls frantically calling her mother to tell her to come home after seeing all the violence happening on the news. She eventually made it home safely but could not stop thinking about her store and hoping it would not burn down.

Jung Koo Kang has been in Los Angeles, California for about 45 years. He began working in a sewing factory and later opened up his own factory. Mr. Kang and his wife worked incredibly for their business that the landlord noticed and asked Mr. Kang to take on three of his ten wholesale stores in the Garment District in order to help him further succeed as a young business owner. As Mr. Kang was heading back home from work one evening, he heard on the radio that riots had begun in South LA and were moving up to Koreatown. By the time he got home, the news was already broadcasting that the riots had reached Olympic Blvd.

Ashley Baik was born and raised in Nashville, Tennessee. Growing up, Ashley had a hard time navigating between her Korean and American identities but was able to find support through her church youth group. She soon saw the importance of the two cultures and realized how much her parents had struggled when they came to a new country. In this Legacy Project video, Ashley reflects on her faith and identity and gives gratitude for her parents’ sacrifices.

Mark Wilson was born in Seoul, South Korea, and adopted to a small suburban town in Philadelphia at nine months old. He grew up in a two-parent household with a brother who is ten years older and was domestically adopted. Upon entering college, Mark was still trying to find where he belonged. At times he would walk by the table of Korean students in the cafeteria but never felt connected with them. Having housemates involved in exchange programs, he ended up meeting the Korean students at a house party and became close friends with them. They invited him to their gatherings and even talked to him about going back to visit Korea.

Najung Hiatt was born and raised in South Korea, and moved to America as a university student seeking to continue her education. She met her husband, who is not Korean, and decided to stay in America to raise a family and pursue her dream of becoming an educator. In this remote edition of Legacy Project, Najung shares how she raised her children to be proud of their Korean heritage and that they should never forget the value of being connected to their roots. She hopes the Korean American community will find their own ways to keep in touch with its cultural heritage, so that it doesn’t slip away.

Sarah Williams was born in South Korea and adopted to the U.S. at nine months old into a Christian household. Growing up, she would always go to church, attend Sunday school, and read the Bible. When she was eight or nine years old, she read the story of Tamar in the Bible and saw her life being reflected right at her. A family member was sexually abusing her. Disclosing the abuse to the family meant it would disrupt the family dynamic – something she couldn’t do because she felt indebted to her family for adopting her. So she remained silent.

Eunbi Kim is a concert pianist born in Seoul, South Korea, and raised in Maryland. At 19 years old, she was working in retail and met an executive at a major tech company who offered her a mentorship opportunity for a scholarship at his company. After a few interactions, she began to increasingly feel uncomfortable with the way he acted at their meetings. Eunbi expressed her boundaries and chose to remove all forms of communication yet he continued to reach out and leave voicemails blaming her for her actions. It even got to the point where he filed complaints to the police that she was the one threatening and harassing him. With the support of her father, they made a report to his company and launched an internal investigation against him. He continued to deny all accusations and shifted the blame onto Eunbi.

Hyeseung Yoo was born in Seoul, South Korea, and currently works as a domestic violence social worker. In 2015, she was sexually assaulted by someone she thought she could trust. Hyeseung never went to the authorities or the hospital because, at the time, she believed it could affect her family’s visa status. In this installment of Legacy Project #MeToo, Hyeseung speaks about generational traumas and increasing openness to share and listen to survivors in the Korean American community. She wants other survivors to know that they are not alone and that there is a safe space for them to talk about their experiences.

At 12 and 13 years old, Cecelia loved being involved in her middle school choir and looked up to her teacher. One day, she realized her teacher was doing things that seemed inappropriate and tried to get close to her in ways a student and teacher shouldn’t. She addressed what was happening, but the school couldn’t find any students or hard evidence to support her claim. Nobody believed her and thought she was just out to get him, so she internalized all of her emotions because she feared being shamed by others. Her PTSD symptoms continued to grow when she entered college, ultimately leading to a breakdown in class. With the affirmation and support from the professor, Cecelia was able to get the help she needed.

Seo-Young Chu was 22 years old when a powerful and beloved English professor sexually assaulted her at Stanford University. Although he was punished, she shares that the university continues to conceal the abuse by allowing awards and a library to exist in his name. Today, Seo Young still wrestles with her inner model minority voice telling her to tolerate what had happened. By participating in this series, she hopes future generations feel empowered to share their stories without shame or stigma and also recognize that there are Korean American voices in the #MeToo movement.

In this first installment of Legacy Project #MeToo, Monica Kim reflects on the night of her sexual assault and the process of trying to move forward from it. She speaks about how she grappled with the idea of therapy as she worked through feelings of shame and disgust. She hopes that other Korean American women hear her story and know that they are not alone in navigating personal struggles and the healing process.

KoreanAmericanStory.org is honored to be launching Legacy Project: #MeToo, featuring the powerful stories of Korean American survivors of sexual assault. This project seeks to empower and validate the experiences of Korean American survivors, and spark much-needed dialogue about sexual violence and harassment, as well as complex cultural stigmas that make breaking silence so difficult

Julia Park grew up in Seoul, South Korea and immigrated to the US at age 13 where her father ran a grocery store. Julia spent much of her childhood in America working at the store and even recalls her father treating school as her reward for working. Today, at age 57, Julia Park works in social service and as the executive director and trip director of Sejong Camp. In this special series, Julia examines the impact of her childhood, becoming a mother, and her passion to give back to future generations.

Grace Nicodemus was raised outside of Philadelphia, PA, and is currently pursuing a degree in Psychology. For the past 12 years, she has been drawn back to Sejong Camp because of all the relationships she has made. Her experiences as a camper continue to empower her to make a positive impact as a counselor. In this special series, Grace examines her mental health, navigating the world as an adoptee, and her growing passion to help others.

Seo Hee Kelleher grew up in Seoul, South Korea, and immigrated to the United States in 1991 at the age of 15. She currently works as a Korean American shaman, using her spiritual gifts to help others heal in a way that is authentic to her cultural identity. However, during the process of studying the spiritual world, she realized that much of traditional Korean spiritual knowledge was inaccessible to non-Korean speakers. In this special series, Seo reflects on the struggles of assimilation and her passion to publish spiritual wisdom books for non-Korean speakers.

Laura-Ann Jacobs was born in Incheon, South Korea and adopted to a family outside of Atlanta, Georgia at the age of 4 months old. As an adoptee and Korean American, her identity played a significant role in being the foundation for her to pursue a career in education with a specialization in anti-racism. During her doctoral program, she began a birth search to learn more about herself and her roots. In this special series, Laura-Ann shares about her passion in creating change for racial justice and reflects on the significance of her trip to Korea to meet her birth family.

Lia Ylitalo was born in South Korea and is currently living in Minnesota. She doesn’t have any recollection of Korea, but was able to hear a few stories about her birth family. Ever since coming to Sejong Camp, she is continually drawn back with a desire to learn more about Korean culture. In this special series, Lia examines her journey to self-confidence, becoming, proud of her heritage, and navigating the world as an adoptee.

Benjamin Kim Oser was born in Mapogu, Seoul, South Korea, and adopted to Central New Jersey at three months old. In his 20s, he went back to Korea to teach English and find any medical records regarding him or his family. The search soon became a birth search when he discovered his father was looking for him. Benjamin reflects on navigating the complexities and feelings behind his birth family’s story and also the appreciation he has for his adoptive parents and the motivation to lead the next generation of Korean Americans as the director of Sejong Camp.

Hope Sacco grew up in Baltimore, Maryland to a Korean American adoptee mother and a white father. She attended a high school with very little Asian representation which drove her to search for community outreach opportunities in the Asian community.

Kat Ley was born in South Korea and was adopted when she was 7 months old. Before becoming a counselor at Sejong Camp, Kat attended as a camper for much of her childhood. Sejong Camp is simultaneously a place where she can escape the label of being “Korean” and be treated as herself. As a Korean American adoptee, she does not search to find the perfect label or identity for herself. Instead, she believes that her actions in the moment speak for who she is as a person. She has found peace in being able to embrace her Korean Americanness, while also believing that her true identity is defined by how she lives her everyday life.

Tommy Lee was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan and moved around quite a bit within the Maryland and Virginia area to stay near his mother’s side of the family after his parents divorce. In this special Legacy Project series, Tommy examines the relationship he had with his parents since their divorce, his passions, his identity, his future, and what Camp Sejong means to him.

Dr. Doug Hong was born in Korea in 1941. By the time he was 9 years old, the Korean War had begun. He recalls being faced with extreme hunger that he caught insects like cicadas and flies to eat. As he was fleeing south with his family towards Seoul, bombs destroyed bridges causing them to seek refuge in a mountain in the outskirts of Seoul. His dad and uncle hid in a cave to make sure they wouldn’t be caught and forced to join the North Korean army, while the rest of his family found shelter nearby. Three months went by and UN troops reclaimed Seoul. Dr. Hong still remembers the horrid sights that laid in front of his eyes on his walk back home.

Cory Lemke was born in Jeonju, South Korea and adopted to the United States when he was six months old. He was raised in a small rural town in Northern Iowa and grew up identifying more with White people. When his family moved to Tucson, Arizona, his racial identity was challenged by the people around him. He encountered much more obvious racism in Arizona compared to Iowa and began to realize the environment around him was not a healthy one.

Seonwoong Hwang was born and raised in South Korea into a pastor’s family. From a young age, he realized the injustices in society and set a clear path for himself to pursue politics. As he reached his 20s, he felt a need to reset and took a new path and studied theology in college. Though his goal was to enact change in the world, Mr. Hwang wants to make that change through whatever God’s calling for him may be.

Madison Jay was born in Korea in 1995 and was adopted to Arizona to a two-parent household with an older brother, who is also a Korean adoptee. Her parents were never shy in exposing her and her brother to Korean culture and read them books about adoption or Korean American identity as well as sending them to Korean heritage camp. As she went through high school and college, people knew her as the adoptee and would question her Koreanness. She didn’t speak the language, eat Korean food, or even know the latest K-Pop band causing her understanding of beauty and self to become unclear.

Chris Packard was born and raised in Toledo, Ohio to a Korean mother and American father. He recalls growing up with a true rural Midwestern life filled with baseball and bicycle rides but also vivid memories of helping his mother run her small businesses – something he considers a defining part in his childhood.

Faith Kim was born and raised in Deerfield, Illinois. She went to a predominantly white school, and struggled with the concept of being both Korean and American. She began to connect with her heritage in middle school when she began watching K-dramas with her mother and learning Korean through Rosetta Stone.

Greg Norrish was born in Seoul, South Korea in 1986 and was adopted to Northeastern CT when he was about 3 months old. Throughout his childhood, he distinctly remember being perpetually aware of his differences. By the age of 18, he began to process his identity in multiple ways and continued until he was nearing his late twenties, which was when he chose to come to Korea. Greg had no idea of what he was hoping for when he came to Korea. To a certain degree, he wanted to find a purpose while trying to live out the inflated dreams he made throughout his childhood but he was also feeling pressured because he told people back home his decision was to explore his Korean roots. After living in Korea for four years, he stopped worrying about his adoption because he found himself being able to feel comfortable in his own skin and living life through work and meeting people who embraced him as he is. As Greg continues life in Korea, he hopes to continue to process and explore his identity through each moment that comes naturally in his everyday life.

Mandy Hwang was raised in Tulsa, Oklahoma by an American father and Korean mother. She grew up feeling “perfectly half-Korean” thanks to her parents’ efforts to help her feel comfortable in her own skin, especially her father. Mandy moved to Korea with the intention of working in the K-pop industry but after taking a teaching job, she realized this was the career she wanted to pursue. Living and working in Korea has helped her feel more in-tune with her Korean identity and recognize that Korean culture is very different from Korean American culture. For Mandy, being half-Korean is a significant part of her identity and means having the best of both American and Korean culture. She believes that it is important for future generations of Korean Americans to not only be familiar with their Korean heritage, but also to make it their own.

Joshua Hwang was born and raised in Philadelphia as one of five boys in his family. His father was a pastor while his mother ran two dry cleaning businesses. Growing up, Joshua wanted to create an identity for himself as an American. He rebelled from the standard ideas of being a PK, or pastor’s Kid, and tried to avoid the Korean American community as much as possible. His parents eventually saw the recklessness and wanted to find an opportunity for him leave Philadelphia as soon as possible.

Brian Kuh was born in South Korea and moved to America at the age of six. He moved around frequently throughout his childhood, which always made him the new Asian student at school. By second grade, he started to realize how much his peers were teasing him and even recalls having rocks thrown at him. Instead of harboring any form of bitterness, Brian just wanted to feel like he belonged and continued to have a lingering feeling of being “in the middle”. With other Koreans, they would say he is too American. With Korean Americans, they would say he was too Korean. Eventually, he realized being between two cultures is a uniqueness not many people have and would allow him to become a bridge connecting two communities.

After his family immigrated to America in 1976, Joseph Kim and his brother grew up being one of the only non-white students in their community. Though his parents worked hard to help them fit in, he still endured teasing because of his race and financial status. He recollects when an old teacher at school called him a racial slur–extremely shocked and angry, fourteen-year-old Joseph did not know how to react. Though initially contemplating more extreme action to take his anger out on that adult, he settled on a more peaceful resolution.

Eric McDaniel was adopted at the age of four to a family in Kansas City, Missouri. On the car ride from the airport, his mom opened up a photo album showing four polaroid photos – one of a car, a big house, his Mom and brother smiling, and his bed. Having vivid memories of being abandoned, it finally clicked with him that he was getting a second chance and this was the family he wanted. Eric learned to adjust and quickly understood that fending for himself and fighting fire with fire was not the only way to live. By the time he entered high school, he had lost his Korean identity and became the catalyst to his own racism.

Kesung Anderson was born in Arlington, Virginia, and spent some time in New York before moving to Korea around the age of 5. After completing a few years of school in Korea, his family decided to move to Minnesota to be with his grandparents. As the new kid in middle school, Kesung remembers being picked on and treated like an outcast. He was scrawny, didn’t like to curse like the other kids, and still wore clothing brought from Korea, making him very aware and self-conscious of his differences from his peers. One day, he had the opportunity to participate in the running event at school and surprised everyone when he began to pass his classmates. Kesung was ultimately recruited for the track team and ended up beating the top runner at a sectional meet, thus helping him grow out of his shell and gaining confidence as well as respect from his peers.

Bernie Cho was born in Pittsburgh, PA and recalls moving around a lot before settling in Jamestown, NY, where both his doctor parents had their practice. During junior high, MTV was on the rise and Bernie became fascinated and obsessed. Living in a small town with very few minorities in his neighborhood, he recognized that there were no Asian VJs, music videos, or acts being represented and oftentimes became frustrated by the stereotypes portrayed in mainstream media.

Jason Lee was born in Queens, New York but ended up moving around a lot with his family. He hated dancing because his friends said he didn’t have rhythm and wasn’t born with it – so he believed it to be a genetic thing. While attending college, he had the opportunity to see the Oprah Winfrey Show where they brought a choreographer to teach the basic steps of dancing. He felt inspired and put months of practice into simple choreographies that soon sparked his love for dance and eventually joining a street dance crew in Time Square.

Dr. Jerome Kim is the Director General of the International Vaccine Institute (IVI) in Seoul, South Korea. He is a third generation Korean American and from a family with long established roots in Hawaii. His grandmother was one of the first Koreans to be born in Hawaii and his grandfather was a Hawaiian correspondence and community organizer for the Korean Independence Movement. English was the primary language spoken in his home with his grandparents speaking Korean with each other and recalls being required to learn Japanese from the third to fifth grade.

Mike Kim was born and raised in a predominantly white town in the San Francisco Bay Area and felt he was constantly navigating between two worlds. Having conservative parents and being the first born in his family, he was expected to have deep connections to his Korean roots and focus on his education. However he embraced a more American mindset and culture and developed a passion for sports and the outdoors.

Growing up in California, Hayden Royalty felt pressure to pursue a career in medicine during her studies at university. As classes became more difficult, Hayden struggled to keep up which caused their mental and physical health to deteriorate. It was at this point they found asylum at the campus LGBTQ+ center, thus beginning their journey to understand their sexuality/queerness and Asian American identity. Upon returning home after graduation, Hayden decided to move to Korea to teach English by the recommendation of their cousin. This new sense of independence was liberating and brought much needed comfort allowing Hayden to remain in Korea for the next eight years. Motivated by their personal experiences and the lack of representation of queer and Asian counselors, Hayden plans to return to the States to pursue a career in social work. They hope to become someone who can support conversations between young queer Asian Americans and their families.

Danny Cho is a Korean American stand-up comedian, writer, and content creator. He was born and raised in Boyle Heights in East LA as one of the only Asian Americans in his community. Danny discovered his love for stand-up comedy the summer before his first year at UCLA when he performed at an open-mic; not only did it feel good to prove that an Asian could be funny, he loved the energy of the audience and continued to crave the rush. Comedy soon became a hobby after college but with the encouragement of fellow Korean American comedians it pushed him to quit his job as a consultant and pursue stand-up full time.

Though Bobby Choy was born and raised in NYC, he never quite felt comfortable living there. He felt safest every weekend at church where he and his brother could be around other Korean Americans with similar life experiences. By the time he reached high school, he had moved 18 times and found it difficult to form strong connections with the people around him. It was through music and poetry Bobby was able to find comfort and joy. He had never considered music as a career path he could take as a Korean American, but with the support of his brother, he was able to nurture those dreams in adulthood.

Kara Bos was born in Korea and adopted by an American couple in Sheridan, Michigan when she was about 3 years old. She had never felt the need to find her birth family until her daughter turned two years old. Her love for her two children and wish for them to know their origins sparked the search for her birth mother and her Korean identity.

Paul Jean was born and raised in San Francisco, California. After his parents’ divorce, Paul did not have much exposure and access to Korean culture or a community and grew up feeling disconnected and almost ashamed of being Korean.

As he got older, his curiosity of the world around him grew and allowed him to explore different ways of thinking. He continued to struggle to find his place in America and his desire for a greater purpose in life led him to move to Korea in 2006. For the first seven years, he was recognized as an American by his peers until he discovered jiu jitsu. Nobody at the gym cared that he was the Korean American, or a gyopo. Paul credits jiu jitsu in helping him connect with his Korean identity and keeping him motivated and grounded.

Judy Hong was born and raised in Seoul, South Korea before moving with her family to Queens, NY at the age of 12. She struggled during her first year in America and would practice saying, “I don’t speak English” to avoid conversations.

Hyojin Park was born and raised in South Korea. After working as an actor in Hyehwa, the theater district, she decided to move to New York to pursue a Masters in acting. She spent her first few years in America motivated by her belief in the American Dream but by her final year of grad school, she noticed that her appearance and accent sometimes meant she was treated differently from her peers and that simply working hard is not enough to overcome those barriers.

John Limb was born in Brooklyn, NY and grew up in a relatively Americanized household where it was encouraged to speak English over Korean. As he went through high school in a predominantly white town, he was often aware of the noticeable differences between him and his peers.

In this Remote Edition of Legacy Project, John Limb sits down with his daughter, Erin, to talk about his personal journey as a Korean American and how he came to realize his true passion as the co-owner of a Korean American brewery, Hana Makgeolli. He expresses how grateful he is for Erin and her sister’s ability to embrace their Korean heritage and hopes that they find a path that will bring joy and fulfill them in every way possible.

Kristin Pak/이영숙 was born in Incheon, South Korea and was adopted to Waterbury, Connecticut when she was about 7 months old. She grew up in a very diverse working class community where race and ethnicity were central to many conversations. Her peers were reflective of the diversity around her and had strong connections to their ethnic identity, many spending summers in their parents’ home country, while she struggled to claim her own Korean American identity. After moving to New York to teach ESL and meeting Korean Americans from different backgrounds, she learned that there are many ways to be Korean American.

Ms. Pak has since moved to Seoul and expresses how Koreans adopted overseas have the right to reclaim their Korean identity and feel part of the Korean nation. As a linguist and educator, she believes that language fluency is not inextricably tied to one’s cultural identity and hopes that perceptions of who is considered Korean will change.

John Park spent only six years in Seoul, South Korea before moving around the world due to his father’s job as a diplomat. He moved to Canada, New Zealand, Singapore, and eventually landed in the United States. In this sitdown interview with his son Owen, Mr. Park recalls his highschool experiences in Virginia and remarks on his feelings of being an outsider looking in.
It was only later in his college years when he was able to find a sense of belonging through his martial arts “tribe”. In this interview, he expresses how he discovered his happiness well into his 30s and also shares advice for Owen as they consider their next chapter in their lives.

Becky White was born in Omaha, Nebraska to a South Korean mother and an American father. Her parents met in South Korea when her father was there on military business and eventually moved to the U.S. after getting married. Growing up, Ms. White and her younger sisters were often caught in the middle of the conflict between their parents’ two different worldviews and mindsets; while her father was cerebral and academic, her mother was scrappy and had a lot of street smarts. Eventually, Ms. White travelled to Korea to learn more about her mother and herself but experienced being taken advantage of in her workplace for her biracial appearance and her language skill set.

Cedric Stout was born in Ohio to an African American father and Korean mother and grew up in a military town in North Carolina. When peers started to call him “Black Chinaman,” Cedric experienced phases of insecurity and questioning his identity. However, his father, who went through the Civil Rights Movement, taught him how to disregard hate and instead focus on treating everyone with respect. With two loving parents, they taught him how to love both his Black and Korean backgrounds, but also find identity in faith. In his late 20s, sparked by deep curiosity and a desire to understand his mother better, Cedric made a pivot in his life by moving to Seoul, South Korea. In this Legacy Project, Cedric speaks on the sense of being a perpetual outsider in Korea as a half Black and Korean man, even after spending several years in the country.

In our first Remote Edition of Legacy Project, Jeanne Jang sits down with her son Owen as he gets to know more of his mother’s story in this interview. Jeanne Jang was born in Korea and immigrated to the United States when she was in first grade, along with her parents and younger sister. She quickly assimilated to her new community but also came to learn about physical and racial differences for the first time. Her father, who set up his own company when they first moved to the U.S., has been a hugely influential figure in her life, encouraging her to keep her Korean heritage and speak Korean at home when she was a child. Her father’s relationship with her own son and her own relationship with her father has continued to remind her of the importance of self-acceptance and being comfortable with who you are.

Kam Redlawsk was born in Daegu, South Korea in 1979 and adopted by an American family in Michigan in 1983. Growing up in an almost entirely white community, she was made to feel like an outsider for her physical differences. It was during college that Ms. Redlawsk was diagnosed with what is known today as GNE myopathy, a rare genetic disease that leads to weakness and wasting in one’s muscles and affects only around one thousand people worldwide. Today, she uses her skills and artistic talent for advocacy and spreading awareness about rare diseases like hers. Dealing with loneliness and watching her disease progress to affect more and more of her physical abilities over time only pushed her to live life to the fullest by seeking out new experiences. In sharing her experiences as a Korean adoptee and someone affected by a physical disability, she hopes to spread the message that everyone has their own reserves of unlimited courage and that empathy can only be built when people begin to seek out each other’s differences.

Born in Seoul, Esther Jung spent her early childhood in California after her parents decided to immigrate to the United States when she was two years old during the South Korean IMF crisis. Her parents worked odd jobs to provide for their family, and the resilience of her mother in the face of hardship left a lasting impression on her. Upon moving to Phoenix, Arizona when she was in second grade, she began to notice the physical differences between herself and her peers. In realizing these differences, however, Ms. Jung became more determined to claim her heritage and be proud of her Korean roots. Most recently, her study abroad experience in Kenya fueled her passion for the empowerment of women and children, further inspiring her to follow in the footsteps of the many strong women she had met throughout her life.

Pak Myung Sook was born in 1929 in Seoul, South Korea, during a time when the country was under Japanese rule. During the outbreak of the Korean War, her father, who had worked as a police officer, was kidnapped, leaving her mother to care for her four younger siblings on her own. Ms. Pak’s mother sought strength in her religious faith, helping her entire family to become devoted Christians After growing up during a time of cultural and social repression, Ms. Pak then experienced the horrors of war, suffering the loss of her child when she fled to seek refuge. After the war, she immigrated to America when her husband’s company went bankrupt and began to build a new life with her family. Her stories depict how important it is to find comfort and strength in one’s family and keep moving forward, no matter what.

Born in Gwangju, South Korea but raised in Los Angeles for most of her life, Audrey Jang attended Catholic school in California before attending boarding school in Connecticut for four years in high school. As her father traveled back and forth in between California and Korea due to work, Audrey stayed in California with her mother and sister, seeing her father less and less before he decided to stay permanently in Korea. Due to their immigration status, they were unable to leave the country for thirteen years. From her experience with applying for financial aid in college as a non-citizen to her own personal confrontations of her identity, Ms. Jang experienced the challenges associated with not being a U.S. citizen firsthand. After receiving her green card in the past year, she speaks about unpacking her identity while contemplating two possible futures for herself in either Korea and America.

Alison Choi was born and raised in Hong Kong, before permanently moving to the United States in 2015. Both of her parents grew up in the United States, and her American roots, coupled with her Korean heritage, gave her a unique cultural identity. While Ms. Choi felt in tune with her American identity, her Korean one was harder to reconcile with growing up in Hong Kong due to the relative lack of Korean-Americans in her community. It wasn’t until she began attending college that she was able to more directly confront and understand her Asian-American identity. She first immersed herself in the history of different ethnic groups in the United States before delving into Asian-American studies. Ms. Choi began to document stories not only about her own family but also about the intersection and interaction between Korean-American and Black communities. Her journey of discovering and exploring her identity speaks to her sense of purpose and her motivation to contribute to the community she is a part of.

All content has been recorded in advance prior to the US outbreak of COVID-19.

Born in Columbus, Ohio in 1966, May Lee faced a significant amount of bullying and discrimination growing up as an Asian American in her neighborhood. Like any other child, she sought to fit in and assimilate with the rest of her community. However, these challenges would build her character and the experiences she was able to bring to the table as a journalist. After realizing that medical school was not the right path for her, she was guided by her religious faith and began to pursue a career in broadcast journalism. Ms. Lee’s perseverance helped her secure her first job in Redding, California, despite the widespread anti-Japanese and anti-Asian sentiments of the time. At one point in her career, she confronted a group of verbally abusive and racist men while conducting coverage on a protest in Dayton, Ohio. Today, she hosts her own podcast, called The May Lee Show, that digs deeper into Asian and Asian American stories through open, honest, conversation. Her process of learning to embrace her own identity and combating racism throughout her life has shaped her devotion to social justice, truth-telling, and speaking up for the voiceless.

The youngest of five daughters, Nancy Yoon grew up in Koreatown, Los Angeles during the 1970’s, after immigrating to the United States at the age of four with the rest of her family. As an adult, Ms. Yoon worked in finance for a while before transitioning to more creative work in the entertainment industry. About twenty years ago, Ms. Yoon struggled with the death of her father which led her to take care of her single mother until she eventually passed in a car accident. Ms. Yoon speaks about the experience of seeing her mother’s spirit in several separate instances. Following her mother’s sudden death, Ms. Yoon felt a strong desire to change her life and eventually got more involved in the Korean American community in Los Angeles which led her to start Asians In LA (@AsiansinLA) – a social network of Asian American influencers in politics, entertainment, nonprofit and community leaders. Empowered by her unshakable faith, she tells a story that demonstrates the power of connection and the importance of representation.

Joseph Jeon was born in Seoul, South Korea in 1971. Two years later, his family immigrated to the United States when his father entered a medical residency program in Barberton, Ohio. Currently a professor of English at the University of California, Irvine, he is also the director of the UCI Center for Critical Korean Studies, an institution aiming to centralize Korean Studies at the university and support students and faculty in their work. His experience of raising a daughter has helped him discover how racial dynamics in American communities have shifted over the past few decades and provided him with a positive outlook on the future. His process of learning how the different places in a person’s life shape the culture in which they grow up has, in turn, helped strengthen his commitment to contribute to his community. All content has been recorded in advance prior to the US outbreak of COVID-19.

A member of Generation X and a second-generation Korean-American, Alexander Kim was born in Los Angeles. He currently works as a consultant working with local government in order to connect government and local communities, businesses, and nonprofit organizations. The 1992 L.A. “Saigu” riots had a significant impact on his passion for political science as he came to realize that there was a need for Asian-American leaders in office, not only in L.A. but also throughout the United States. After his college education at UC Irvine, Mr. Kim took his first job working for the city of L.A. at the mayor’s office. Throughout his 15-year career in politics, he gained experience working with different communities of people from all different kinds of backgrounds. His commitment to making his community a better place is a testament to his extraordinary drive and dedication.

Linda Chen was born in the United States, a few years after her parents immigrated to America and began operating a grocery store in East L.A. Growing up in a predominantly white school community in Arcadia, Mrs. Chen remembers her struggle to discover and embrace her identity. As a girl, she taught herself how to read and write in Korean and continued to take Korean classes in college at George Washington University. In college, she decided to participate in a summer program at Yonsei University in South Korea. Once there, however, she experienced the discomfort of prejudice against “foreigners” and became the victim of a traumatic assault. Despite all this, Mrs. Chen has maintained her love for her culture and her belief that one can be anything they desire. Her story is one that explores the importance and power of identity.

Stephen Gill was born in the rural area of Geumsan, South Korea as Gill Moon Geun. After graduating from high school in the city of Daejeon, he attended Seoul Business College and Graduate School. After working as an employee of a government-owned business in Tokyo, then New York, he decided to remain in the United States for the sake of his children and their education. Several years later, Mr. Gill began to operate a Hallmark card store, continuing to support his children through three harrowing robberies and other challenges. In 1987, he became an American citizen. Mr. Gill is no stranger to hardship and adversity, but his story demonstrates the overwhelming power of courage and family.

Stella Gill was attending kindergarten and learning how to play the piano when she recalls the Korean War breaking out when she was just 4 years old. After several years of living as refugees, her family finally returned home only to find that their father never came back. Stella went on to get married and settled with her new family in America. However, 25 years ago, she received a mysterious letter in the mail sent from North Korea that turned out to be her long lost father. Communicating through letters until his death, she describes the emotions she felt at that time learning about her father’s new life and family.

Kwan Ho Chung was born in South Korea in 1937, during the year the Second Sino-Japanese War began. Growing up, he heard stories from his mother about his father’s college education in the United States at the University of Pennsylvania. He made his way to America to retrace his father’s journey, visiting the University of Pennsylvania campus in person and learning about his father’s educational history there. Mr. Chung would spend years piecing together his father’s story in America and publish a biography titled “Father’s Footsteps.” Eventually, Mr. Chung would also come to live in the United States, in search of more opportunities for his sons and a new life in a new country. His father’s story motivated Mr. Chung to seek opportunity and fulfill his own ambitions, continuing a remarkable legacy of determination and perseverance.

Born in 1944 in the city of Harbin in what was then called the Manchuria region of China, Regina Park experienced the hardships of the Korean War at a young age. Her memories of the war include fleeing from Pyongyang, North Korea to South Korea with her family in the dead of night and receiving milk porridge from American soldiers on the street in order to survive. After meeting her husband through her uncle, Ms. Park applied for a green card and moved to the U.S. in her late twenties to start a new life. Her story is one of incredible resilience, courage, and tenacity.

William Oh was born in Kansas and later moved to Los Angeles, California. While growing up in LA, William shares how his tight-knit family shaped most of his core values and beliefs. By having deep conversations about human rights and justice together, William found a passion for people’s stories and politics and went on to major in Social Anthropology and Ethnicity, Migration, and Rights at Harvard University. At the time of recording, William had been serving as the Youth Organizer at Hana Center in Chicago, IL, empowering Korean American youth through community organizing to advance human rights.

Jeannie Wang was born in Busan, growing up in the middle of the Korean War during which she recalls sharing food and resources with refugees fleeing from the combat up North. Ms. Wang’s dreams of becoming an international ambassador eventually led her to America, where she worked at a wig shop while still studying in school. Due to financial difficulties, she had to quit her ambassador dreams, but soon found another path in tutoring and education through her children. Putting all her energy into her children’s future inspired her to start a Kumon tutoring business with her husband, where they worked together for over 20 years. Ms. Wang shares with her daughter her gratefulness in that her children were able to adjust and live well in America despite the cultural differences and difficulties they went through.

Crystal Kang Ahn was born in California, raised mostly by her grandmother, who boldly protected her by all means. When Crystal was just an infant, she was scheduled to undergo heart surgery due to a rare condition called pulmonary artery sling. As she was being set up in the operation room, her grandmother snuck in, took off her straps, and ran home, fully convinced by a spiritual vision she had about protecting Crystal from knives. Miraculously Crystal’s heart recovered on its own, thus giving her the title of “miracle baby.” With the burdensome label following her throughout her life, Crystal recalls struggling to meet expectations while also dealing with bullying and ethnic identity issues.

James Jin-Han Wang was born in 1940 in what is now the capital of North Korea, Pyeongyang. Mr. Wang recalls the long and difficult journey of fleeing on foot to the South with his family when he was just ten years old. When the Han River Bridge was bombed down in an attempt to prevent North Korean soldiers from further invading the South, Mr. Wang’s father was separated from the rest of the family. His pregnant mother was left alone with three young children, of which one died shortly after contracting polio, and her newborn son died shortly after birth due to starvation. After graduating from Seoul National University, Mr. Wang worked in Korea for a few years before coming to America with big dreams of a new life for himself. Now having owned various different businesses and retiring, his biggest wish is for his daughters and granddaughter to simply be happy.

Mary Kim, born in North Korea, grew up in Seoul during both the Japanese occupation and the breakout of the Korean War. Ms. Kim shares her memories of being punished for speaking Korean and hearing rumors about women being recruited as comfort women in her hometown. She also recalls the difficulty of trying to stay alive during the war with vivid memories of scavenging and rationing out foods like potato powder and barley. Ms. Kim’s husband was able to immigrate to America, rare at the time, through his medical research work. Ms. Kim soon followed with their children with the dream of securing their family’s safety and future lives.

Taneka Hye Wol Jennings, born in Cheongju, South Korea, was adopted at 3 months old into a white American family in New Jersey. Growing up, she sometimes felt alone navigating her life as a Korean adoptee and not having a community to identify with. Taneka speaks about her journey to find community and belonging to where she is today, being deeply involved in Asian American and adoptee human rights work. Taneka is currently the Deputy Director at HANA Center in Chicago, IL and is also involved in KAtCH: Korean Adoptees of Chicago.

L. Song Richardson was born in El Paso, Texas to a Korean American mother and African American father who was a Lieutenant Colonel in the U.S. Army. Richardson grew up with strong influences of Korean culture from her mother who always stressed the importance of education which would later contribute to Richardson’s passion for teaching and research. In this Legacy Project, Richardson reflects back on the challenges of growing up mixed race and how her parents fell in love. L. Song Richardson is the current Dean and Chancellor’s Professor of Law at the University of California, Irvine School of Law with joint appointments in the Department of Criminology, Law and Society and in the Department of Asian American Studies.

Agatha Jeomsook Park, originally from Boseong in South Jeolla, left her life in Korea and immigrated to Chicago with her children in 1998 after facing marital issues. Having trouble adjusting to America, Agatha eventually found a new life for herself as a hairdresser with the help from her children and community. However, when her daughter was diagnosed with cancer in December of 2018, their small family faced another challenge together. Since coming to America, Agatha received great support and comfort from her church and community and has since dedicated her life to volunteering and helping others.

Dr. Wonhee Anne Joh was born in South Korea and moved to Chicago in the late 1970s where she grew up with first-generation immigrant parents who ran a dry cleaners store. Dr. Joh recalls seeing the tensions of class differences within the Korean American community and how she never identified with the model minority stereotype. Dr. Wonhee Anne Joh is currently a professor of Theology and Culture at Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary in Evanston, Illinois. Much of her teaching revolves around the Korean concept of “jeong” as a different type of love separate from the Western notions of love.

AJ Valente is a freelance digital designer who has worked with KoreanAmericanStory.org since 2016

Julian Kim is a video editor, filmmaker, and director of “Happy Cleaners.”

Jessica Park, current Project and Communications Manager at KoreanAmericanStory.org, was born in Arlington, Virginia

Vivian Lee, a current Board Member of KoreanAmericanStory.org, grew up in Toronto, Canada…

Ohn Choe is the current Board Chair of KoreanAmericanStory.org

Dr. Yuri Doolan was born in an Air Force base to an American father and Korean mother who met in Korea during the 1980s.

Bonnie Bongwan Cho-Oh was raised believing in equal education for both men and women.

Ji-Yeon Yuh came to America at age 6 with her mother joining her father who was finishing his doctorate in Chicago.

Dr. Soong-Chan Rah grew up in the inner-city of Baltimore, Maryland, with three siblings and a single mother.

When Daniel Chung found himself surrounded by eight soldiers on the border of North Korea and China, he knew he had to figure his own way out somehow.

In Part 2, Matt talks about the beauty of starting a new chapter with his family and the joys becoming a father to his own biological sons.

Matt Fischer was born in Korea and adopted at the age of 7.

Jay Yoo came to Chicago, Illinois in 1977, leaving behind his grandparents and friends in Seoul, Korea.

Recorded in Chicago, David Chang is interviewed by his daughter, Loren Chang.

Ms. Hee Yung Chang was born in Seoul, Korea, experiencing the Korean War as a young child.

“I remember getting a phone call from my dad saying, ‘Min died.'”

Chris Detrych came to America in 1985 at 3 months old where he was adopted by a Caucasian family in Detroit, Michigan.

Jin Young was born in 1937 in Manchuria which was also under Japanese occupation at the time.

In this Legacy Project, Young Song Kim shares his story with his son, Doug.

As a youngster growing up in the Mid-West he was frequently bullied by his peers for being Asian and was at a loss understanding how he was different

Sung Tse’s son brought up this haunting question the day he told his mother he did not identify as a female.

As the mother of a third-generation Korean American daughter, Nancy Choi has faced coming to terms with the different styles of parenting that have come from her own mother.

“When I give my advice to youngsters, it’s to live your passion. Have a balanced life but do what you love.”

Fears of the unknown and uncertainty have never stopped Jinhee Ahn Kim from having her own adventure.

Sukhee Kang – the first Korean American mayor of Irvine, California – shares his experience of arriving to America with little resources yet still striving to try his best in everything he did.

In part 2, Jessica shares her journey starting from graduating with a Historical Linguistics degree and pursuing linguistics research, to changing her career path in order to become a writer

Jessica shares the story behind her various tattoos and how she fell in love with the art.

Sylvia is a lawyer by trade and also the Chief Innovation Officer at the Asian Pacific Community Fund based in Los Angeles.

Lillian shares her story of immigrating from Seoul to California as a young child with her family.

Yung Kim, who attended and helped develop the Father School program in New York, shares what he’s learned about fatherhood and family.

Yung Kim, interviewed by his niece Nina Joung, came to America at 22 years old, volunteering at nonprofit organizations while serving at his church as a youth group teacher.

Born in Seoul, Hyun Joon Lee grew up in Indonesia, went to Yonsei University, and ended up in the Bronx working as a medical resident.

With a dream to become Madame Curie, Mickie Choi immigrated to the U.S. in the early 70s to pursue her PhD.

Fighting poverty and homelessness never stops for Jean Kim.

Born in 1935 in what is now North Korea, Jean Kim lived through the Japanese occupation and the Korean War, losing her language, family, and home.

Lynn Richards-Noyer shares how she found her birth family through an appearance on Korean television and how she “accidentally butt-dialed” her birth mother.

Born in Daegu, South Korea and raised in Albany, New York since he was four months old, Alex Myung Wager struggled with his identity as not only a Korean adoptee but also a gay man.

Adopted from Seoul as a baby, Nellie Sung, the only person of color at her schools in Minneapolis, never felt like she fit in.

Adopted at the age of two by a white family on Long Island, social worker Lee-Ann Hanham grew up with her non-biological, adopted Korean sister as the only Koreans in her neighborhood.

Seungjin Lee takes us back into his family’s story before his move to the U.S.

Seungjin Lee, now a father himself, provides an intimate retrospective on his father’s sacrifices and trials.

Myung Sook Cha came to the US with the intent of earning enough money to go back to Korea to take care of her father.

Michael Pulliam clearly remembers the time when he was punched squarely in the face right after he boarded the school.

Meg Campbell grew up in Upstate New York with her 3 other adopted sisters, where she felt a strong sense of isolation and loneliness due to the strained relationship with her parents.

Duk Sun Chang struggled all his life working as a gemcutter, a back-breaking occupation.

“Everything in your life is not your choice.” Marissa Martin opens up about life as a Korean American adoptee.

Young Hae Han was a professional pianist before she became a wife and mother.

Michael McDonald was adopted to the U.S. at 3 months old.

Andy Marra is a Korean American adoptee and leader in LGBTQI advocacy.

According to his adoption papers, Michael Mullen was left on the steps of a police station in Seoul, Korea.

Jae was adopted at 4 months old from Seoul, South Korea, yet she did not come to terms with her Asian identity until college.

Hear how Jong Sun Yun’s immigration to the US led to his calling as a pastor, and how a stroke that left one side of his body paralyzed tested his will to continue life without giving up.

Adoptees are four times more likely to attempt suicide than non-adoptees.

Yung Duk Kim was born in North Korea and escaped to the South with his family as a 13-year-old boy.

September is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. Adoptees are four times more likely to attempt suicide than non-adoptees.

Pastor Myungja Yue recalls how her father took on the incredible feat of swimming across the Nakdong River back and forth 6 times

Dr. Yoon Soo Park, recognized internationally for his research in science and technology, recalls the less public memories of his life during the Japanese occupation and the Korean War.

Dju Hyun Park shares her love story — how she met her husband, and how they became a family of five.

Dju Hyun Park recalls her harrowing escape from North Korea to South Korea.

Dju Hyun Park grew up in a wealthy family in North Korea, but affluence did not ensure an easy life.

Hyepin Im, an MBA student in 1992, recalls how the media falsely portrayed Korean Americans as the main aggressors during the LA riots.

In 1991, Han Sung Chang joined a youth group that provided protection services to Korean Americans, especially shop owners who were most at risk when they closed their shops at night.

Inha Cho, president of the Korean Veterans Association in 1992, recalls gathering veterans of the Korean Marine Corps to go into the areas of rioting in order to protect Korean Americans and their livelihoods.

Joe Ahn recalls feeling both fear and anger during SaIGu: fear that his father would get hurt during the riots, and anger that the people who were most affected by the public’s expressed frustration with the government were the people who had the least resources. As businesses went bankrupt in Koreatown, new laws were created that effectively made it very difficult for the common types of Korean-owned businesses to reopen. Joe Ahn played a critical role in helping to pass a revitalization act that included components such as: loans and tax credits for Korean-owned businesses.

Richard Choi is the current vice chairman of Radio Korea, and was the vice president of Radio Korea in 1992.

Michael Woo was the first Asian American elected to the Los Angeles City Council, and served from 1985 to 1993.

TC Kim, a journalist in 1992, hit the streets to capture photos during the LA riots, even though his wife asked him to stay home.

Carol Kim was a graduating high school senior when the LA riots broke out, but she was already a leader committed to overturning injustice.

Commander Blake Chow is Assistant Commanding Officer – Operations West Bureau, Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD).

Jinho Lee, journalist at Radio Korea (KBLA-AM 1580) in 1992, recalls how Radio Korea became a makeshift command center during the LA riots.

John Lim, then president of the Korean American Bar Association, recalls his experience of SaIGu and how he was moved to mobilize a team of over 80 lawyers to provide pro bono legal services for Korean Americans in the aftermath of SaIGu.

Suk Jong Lee reflects on the difficulties she faced as an Army chaplain, due to being both female and Asian.

Colin Lee is a 16 year old rising lacrosse player who recently played for the Korean national lacrosse team U-19 in Vancouver.

Kim J Chung shares how she met her husband, and how the two were an unlikely pair.

Kim J Chung shares how her family crossed the border from North Korea to South Korea.

Unzu Lee, currently a Presbyterian pastor, used to have “zero confidence” in her language abilities due to a sudden move from Korea to Brazil at 14 years of age.

Growing up in a church full of political dissidents, Unzu Lee learned early on that “political activism was just one way of social transformation.”

Sang Gyun Kim, currently a CPA with his own business, honestly recounts his difficulties in adjusting to life in America.

Sarang Kang is a Korean American female pastor whose visionary and assertive character sometimes ruffles feathers.

When Dr. Yusun Chang first considered studying abroad, he was not sure if it would be feasible due to financial difficulties.

Yena Hwang, a Korean-American female pastor, grew up with affectionate and supportive parents who raised her with gender equality norms.

Growing up as a pastor’s kid (PK), Aram Bae prayed specifically that she would never be employed by the church.

Kelly Choi learned the importance of taking care of herself after she started having symptoms of panic disorder.

Filmmaker Andrew Ahn reflects on his journey of merging his gay identity and Korean American identity.

Woonhye was sure she would never marry a pastor–because she had seen firsthand the difficulties of pastoral life through her father.

Growing up, Charles Yoon moved country-to-country as his dad got new job assignments—interacting with many different cultures.

Hyejoo Jeong’s life was shaken up when her husband was diagnosed with stage four cancer at the age of 32.

Charles Youn, Executive Director at Korean American League for Civic Action (KALCA), shares how certain negative childhood experiences and the influence of his parents shaped who he is today.

As a professor with over forty years teaching political science at the University of Georgia, Han Shik Park shares his thoughts on North Korea,

Han Shik Park is no stranger to war. Born near what is now Harbin amidst Chinese civil unrest, Park eventually moved to South Korea after the surrender of the Japanese.

Sang Soo Park, born in 1929, recounts the days in Korea when everyone was starving and his immigration to the United States to join his brother who worked at a chemical factory.

Joanne Lee didn’t know how to react when her second child, Skylar, came out as transgender and found that she was unable to fully understand and accept his LGBTQ identity.

After getting all of the degrees her parents wanted her to have, Eugena Oh worked nonstop at a big law firm, becoming the unhappiest she had ever been.

A month after 9/11, Aiyoung Choi got contacted by KAFSC (Korean American Family Service Center) about a father who wanted to leave his son with someone for the weekend.

At 23, Aiyoung Choi fell head over heels for a Cuban man and married him—cutting ties with her parents who disapproved of the pair.

Civic activist Aiyoung Choi recounts her father escaping to China to avoid being forced to research new technologies for the Japanese war effort

Baik Kyu Kim recounts his immigration to the United States, the mentality that shaped his work ethic.

When riots erupted throughout Los Angeles in 1992, the same thing was happening in Atlanta—destroying the local K-town area.

Steve Choi grew up as that nerdy-looking Asian kid who was always overlooked or looked down upon in school—giving him a “chip on his shoulder” that motivated him to excel and prove people wrong.

Pastor William Seihwan Kim was serving at a Korean church in Wichita, Kansas until a severe tumor growing on his face forced him to resign and go to Korea for surgery.

Chung Yun Hoon continues on in the second part of his story—detailing how he came to immigrate to Detroit, Michigan

Chung Yun Hoon, born in 1930, describes his childhood and family life in China, how seeing a picture of the Empire State Building inspired him to learn English.

Jeong Ae Choi talks to her daughter and grandson about how she came to marry her husband after her mother met him through a matchmaker.

After deciding not to jump from a seven-story building, Chong Taek An paid off the debts he was trying to escape from and eventually made his way to America.

To support her family while her husband was studying, Namsun Lee took on a “man’s job” at a General Electric company in Richmond, VA.

On Christmas Day, Jannie Chung and her family got a phone call telling them her father had suddenly died of a heart attack, forcing them to immediately fly out to Korea.

During a more rebellious phase of her adolescence, Jannie Chung sneaked away from home to hang out with her friends.

When Jannie Chung’s brother was barreling out of control with drug use, partying, and violent behavior, her mother—desperate to turn his life around—took him to a remote Buddhist temple in Hawaii

What Jannie Chung thought were Braxton Hicks contractions turned out to be real labor—happening three months too early.

Han Sung Park grew up in a rural part of Korea as the youngest of four daughters to her mother, who faced a lot of social stigmas as a widow.

Sungdo Park, born in 1933, gives an intimate look at the major events of his life.

Ms. Yi Yoon-shin is a ceramic artist and the founder of Yido, a store which specializes in handcrafted ceramic ware for everyday use.

Jack McGovern and Noah Sinangil are both adopted Korean Americans that we interviewed at Sejong Camp in New Jersey.

When her child, born female, came out to Clara Yoon and her husband as a boy, they decided to accept and support his transition.

June Oh, as interviewed by her daughter, Diana, never wanted to get married, but life took her in a different direction from what she expected.

Minjung Kim (24 years old) was born in Seoul, Korea and immigrated to the US when she was 11 years old. Emily Lynch (27 years old) was also born in Seoul, Korea, but she was adopted along with her twin brother by a Caucasian family in Connecticut.

Lila Lee came to the United States in 1965 as a 22 year-old. She arrived in New York and lived in Brooklyn with her brother who had come to the US earlier. In this Legacy Project video, Lila talks about her first day at a job she started that year, the reasons why she decided to stay in the US, and the financial challenges she and her husband faced and eventually overcame. She is interviewed by her son Bernard Lee on March 21, 2015, in Westchester, New York.

HyaeKyung Jo is a retired teacher with over 30 years of experience in primary and secondary education in US public schools. Linda Priore was the co-founder of Sejong Camp, a Korean culture camp that parents of adopted Korean children started in 1992.

Martha Crawford and her husband adopted two children from Korea.

Sabryna Ro and Leah Rice are both 17 years old and they met at Sejong Camp, a cultural camp for Korean adoptees and American born Koreans

Jwa Kyung Shin was born in 1914 in Korea. She was 100 years old at the time of the interview.

Victori was born in 1943 in a small peach farming village outside of Seoul, Korea.

Mrs. Jungsook Choh was born in 1935 in Uhrae-Jin, Hamkyung-Namdo, which is now in North Korea.

Chris Todd, 31, was born in Seoul, Korea and adopted by a Caucasian family when he was a baby. Steven Yeun, 31, was born in the US, and grew up in Long Island.

Fred Warnick was a young American working in Korea in the 1960s.

Jonathan is a 24 year old graduate of Miami University of Ohio and Jeremy is a 22 year old student at Berklee School of Music.

Dr. Jeff Choh is an interventional radiologist who was born in Korea, immigrated to Ohio in 1972 and now lives in the Chicago area.

Joy was adopted from Korea. She came to her family just shy of her sixth birthday.

Sulja Lee was born in Japan in 1942 during WWII and her family moved back to Korea after Korean independence from Japan in 1945.

Dr. James ChinKyung Kim is no ordinary man, containing the spunk and spirit of a teenage boy.

Julius Rosen was 18 years old when he was deployed to Korea in 1945 during World War II, just before Japan surrendered.

Janice Paik was born and raised in LA’s KoreaTown, and currently works and lives in downtown LA.

Since junior high school, Kang Lee’s aspiration was to become one of the greatest scientists Korea has produced. His father, who was the chairman of the biology department at Seoul National University, was kidnapped by the North Koreans during the Korean War. His mother was left to raise 6 children on her own. Kang Lee managed to find scholarships which allowed him to attend his junior high school and high school, and eventually worked his way through Seoul National University as a private tutor. He came to the USA to attend MIT, where he received his PhD. In 1984 he founded Aspen Systems, where he is still the CEO today.

This is an amazing story of struggle and resilience in the face of seemingly insurmountable challenges. Despite a lifetime of struggles and successes, Kang Lee remains an incredibly optimistic and humble person.

Haewon Latorre was born in Korea, moved to Argentina as a toddler, then moved to NYC as a teenager.

Irvin Paik was born in Bakersville, CA in 1940. His father came to the US in 1905 with the first wave of sugar plantation workers to Hawaii. His mother came to the US in 1914. This is a rare recording of a Korean American who can recollect what life was like during the early period of Korean immigration. Irvin also recollects a high school play that he was in with George Takei, the Japanese American actor. This interview was conducted in Los Angeles on August 31, 2013.

Lisa came to the US when she was 2 years old. Her mother left the family at age 5, then she was sent back to Korea at age 11, only to return to her father in Los Angeles at age 14.  

Legacy Project video of Grace K. Lee of Minnesota, interviewed by her daughter, Marie Myong-Ok Lee, in New York City.

Legacy Project is an oral history project to capture the stories of the Korean Americans .

Dr. Haeng Soon Park, a professor of biochemistry, retired from a university in Korea, and then went on to teach in Nepal.

Legacy Project video of Yong-Hee Silver interviewed by her son, Adrian Silver in New York.

Legacy Project video of Dr. Byoung G. Choh of Cleveland, Ohio interviewed by his daughter, Theresa Choh-Lee.

The Reverend Jung John Kwon reflects on his journey in the United States. He was interviewed by his daughter Young-Yi Clinton in New York.

The Reverend Koonae Lee is the Senior Pastor of the United Methodist Church in Stratford, Connecticut.

Ms. Kwon Sook Young interviewed by her daughter, Yoon Lee Perera in New York on November 2012.

Dr. Samuel Sang Gook Lee immigrated to the United States in 1973.