I just started exploring the archives at Kimchi Mamas. It’s sort of like the female equivalent of Rice Daddies, but with a Korean focus. Those of you who have been following me know that I’ve started to explore my own cultural heritage more. It’s important to me that my daughter has the opportunity to learn about where she came from.

Growing up in an area heralded for its diversity, there was (and still is) a conspicuous underrepresentation of Asians. I can’t complain much. I love Cuban and Argentine cuisine. I have a legitimate shot at becoming fluent in Spanish. I might even teach my daughter.

Being different meant being ridiculed. This was how I became whitewashed. I couldn’t articulate it. It was such a horrible thing to feel. I was ashamed of being Korean. How can you say that publicly? I was ashamed of who I was and ashamed to admit that I was ashamed. This low self-esteem cocktail didn’t fully metabolize until my late 20′s.

I fiercely defended being a Twinkie. I started to accept that I was what I was. If 3rd, 4th, and 5th generation Italian-Americans can have Italian pride without speaking a word of the language, why was it such a crime for me not to have in-depth knowledge of Korean culture? I felt I was no different from the distant descendants of European immigrants. I just accelerated the Americanization process.

Are Asian people expected to preserve their cultural identity more than other ethnic groups? I was certainly asked to feel that way when people called me out for not being Korean enough. I didn’t fit into a neat little category. I worked hard to make sure I didn’t fit any Asian stereotypes. I let academics slide in high school. I declined to participate in anything that identified me as Korean. I even elected to shelve a hobby (photography) that I enjoyed immensely for many years.

Whenever people ask me, “Where are you from?”

My answer is, “Baltimore.” This usually results in a quizzical look.

Someone once asked me, “What part of China are you from?”

“It’s a tiny little province in the northeast. You may have heard of it. It’s called BALTIMORE!”

I’ve encountered my share of racial ignorance too. “Are you Chinese?”

“No.”

“Japanese?”

“No. Korean.”

“What’s the difference?”

ARGHHH!!!!!

I didn’t fit into some neat little box. Fortunately, I’m OK with that. I’ve never been easy to explain. I used to curse it, but maybe this button-pushing is exactly what people need. If you push buttons and shatter stereotypes, shout out with a comment.