It’s been a while since I wrote about biracial issues. It’s going to be a quiet ride until Twilli starts interacting with school age children. Most of what I’ve written has been about my own awakening and mostly 2nd hand accounts.

Maybe I’m blissfully ignorant of these issues. I prefer to think that the people we have encountered just might be open-minded enough to accept our child as she is without casting her in a freakshow role.

Last weekend, I spied a rummage sale at a nearby church. It happened to be the Korean Assembly of God church. I’m still very whitewashed and my religious beliefs are not in alignment with AOG, so I don’t give it much thought.

I didn’t like what I read about how hapas are treated in the Korean community. Now I have first-hand experience to report, and it is favorable.

As we approached the rummage sale, my guard was up. Religious outreach efforts by Koreans have been made toward me in the past by various groups, but the language barrier stopped them in their tracks.

I’d say it was an average reception. Not everyone is going to dote on a baby, no matter how cute she is. A few women lit up. One woman even remarked, “Asian genes are so strong!” Another lady was being assertive, trying to sell us a toy that was clearly outside of her age range. It was around noon, and you know what noontime means for rummage sales. Frugal tip here. Sometimes, you can score deals at the end of a garage sale. This is stuff people don’t want anymore.

Overall, I sensed no disdain for this mixed-race child. Maybe people have come around.

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Growing up as a Twinkie, I don’t have much Asian identity, except for my appearance. It sounds cliché, but I am stuck between two worlds. Maybe this is why I’m so annoyed at blanket judgments based on appearance. I don’t fit in to some neat little category. As soon as an unenlightened individual realizes I don’t work in IT or engineering and don’t know karate, they’re dumbfounded.

Then there’s the Asian community. Twinkies tend to be shunned by Asians holding on to their cultural identity. I still don’t have any Korean friends. I learned a little about Korean-American culture, and it’s just starting to coalesce due to my recent interest.

After some reflection, I realized that I’m more Korean than I used to admit:

• I love spicy food. Whenever I go to a Thai restaurant, I tell the waiter, “When I say ‘5-star spicy’ I mean it. I’m Korean.”
• I love garlic. While I’m cooking, I occasionally peel an extra clove to eat it whole.
• The other day, I dressed up some artichoke hearts with red pepper, garlic, sea salt, and olive oil. It looked like ban chan (side dishes).
• I root for the underdog with few exceptions.
• I used to smoke cigarettes.
• One of my goals is to be able to afford private school for my daughter.

However, the whitewashing is pretty complete. Inertia is tough to overcome.

• My wife is from Texas but I’m more redneck than she is.
• I wear my shoes inside the house all the time.
• My Swedish vocabulary has eclipsed my Korean vocabulary.
• I still have karaoke anxiety. It’s a favorite activity among Koreans.

Despite the advanced degree of “Twinkification” I’m coming back around a little. I’m frequenting Kimchi Mamas and Rice Daddies more these days. I was saddened when I heard that the Namdaemun (Great Southern Gate) in Seoul burned down. I even talked about making some Korean food for Twilli to try one day!

It’s too soon to share some of these thoughts with my daughter, but it’s not too soon to start my own homework. I have no idea what to expect. You can find oases of multicultural acceptance today. It is my hope that the oasis becomes a pasture.

My mother always said that she wanted to bring together the best of both worlds. From my vantage point, she’s still very Korean. The one who really brings the best of both worlds together is my daughter.

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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.

Lately, I’ve gained an interest in the issues that biracial children face. It never really crossed my mind during the pregnancy or even for the first couple months after my daughter’s birth. I want to be prepared for what she might face when she starts socializing with other children. As I learned more about mixed-race people, I realized that I faced many of the same issues growing up.

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