When I was nine years old, my classmates told me that Korea did not exist. I had just moved to a suburb in Wisconsin, and upon my arrival at school, my peers gathered around me, fascinated by this strange-looking girl with pigmented skin and slanted eyes.
“What are you?” They asked.
“Chinese!” One of the more cultured ones suggested.
“Nope.”
“Oh, so you’re Japanese.” They concluded. I shook my head once more.
“I’m Korean,” I answered proudly. But instead of the awed looks I had expected, I saw confusion reflected on their faces.
“Korean? What’s that? If your eyes are small, you have to be Chinese or Japanese. There’s no such thing as Korean.”

True, we were only in third grade and had yet to learn about so many countries in the world. Yet, even in third grade, everyone knew of China and Japan, the two neighboring countries of Korea, and could easily point out the general region of both countries. So why not Korea? Why, despite having a history dating back to as far as five thousand years, is Korea more obscure to the world than countries of similar origin?

The most likely answer lies in Korea’s sad history of being constantly trampled by its imperialistic neighbors. Korea’s location opens access to the Pacific, China, Central Asia, Russia, and Japan, and thus has made it a strategically coveted land to conquer since its founding.

The first of the series of imperialistic tragedies that struck Korea began with the Mongols in 1231. Led by Ogotai, Genghis Khan’s successor, the Mongols used Korea as a bridge to attack Japan, killing thousands and ravaging our country in the process.

Korea soon became a vassal state of China. In light of the recurring invasions of aggressive powers, such a relationship with China proved to be beneficial and temporarily discouraged further aggression. However, Korea’s development as an individualized nation was hindered as it simply adopted Chinese cultural practices, including writing (until King Sejeong founded Hangul) and religion. Korea was constantly required to send tribute to China, and Chinese approval was required for many legal processions in Korea, including crowning a new king. Subject to China’s rule and customs, Korea was hidden in the larger country’s shadow.

But this legacy of imperialism did not end there. In 1905, Korea found itself submitting to foreign powers once again as it became a protectorate state to Japan before being annexed in 1910. For 35 years, Korea lost its independence and was forced to give up its culture and assimilate into Japan. By the time independence came in 1945, tens of thousands of innocent citizens had lost their lives.

But even still, the worst was not over for our country. Just five years later, Korea was once again ravaged with war, poverty, and tragedy as the Korean War broke out, a proxy war of the Cold War, a bloodless conflict between the United States and the Soviet Union. Under the influence of the Soviet Union, North Korea invaded South Korea, which was under the influence of the U.S. Caught between the strife of the two more powerful countries, our country was divided into its current state as North Korea and South Korea.
And so, rather than being known for its artistic feats, such as the remarkable glaze and pottery techniques that were used in the Korai period; instead of being known for its military achievements, like the extraordinary Iron Turtle Ship or Kubuk Sun; instead of being known for transforming from a war-torn country to a world economic power in only fifty years; The Republic of Korea became known for the notoriety of its counterpart country, North Korea.

And so, as I grew older, the question began to change from “Are you Chinese?” to “Are you North Korean?” Instead of saying “Nihao” to me, my peers would ask me if I knew Kim Jong Un. If I grew irritated or annoyed they would warn each other, “Watch out, she might tell her Uncle Kim Jong Un to nuke us!” I began to resent how my ethnicity defined me and stubbornly resisted my parents’ efforts to educate me of my culture.

In 2012, when I moved to New Jersey, I was shocked by how many Koreans were in my school. For the first time, I was not the only Korean in my grade. But by that time, it was too late; I had already developed an aversion to my culture. Afraid of being clumped with “The Asian” group and experiencing the embarrassment of being teased, I cleverly avoided any questions about my ethnicity, responding “American” when asked the vague question, “What are you?” I was careful to develop anything beyond a casual acquaintance with my Korean classmates and slacked off during my final years in Korean school.

So when did this all change? When Kpop started to dominate world charts and Gangnam Style became the most popular song on the radio? Or perhaps when Descendants of the Sun became the most popular drama in Asia and everyone, from teenage girls to ahjummas, fell in love with Song Joong Ki. Or maybe even as recently as when Korea hosted the 2018 Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang.

My answer is not quite so simple. I became the proud Korean American I am today when I started to learn of the Korean leaders of America; the ones who, despite the language barrier and cultural differences, were able to rise up and achieve success. And rather than being hindered by our culture, such leaders credited the hard-working tradition of Koreans and the immense efforts their immigrant parents put in to survive in a foreign country as the key to their success. These people became my role models and I started to embrace my culture and made it my goal to become a Korean American leader like them. They are Do Won Chang, Arden Cho, Ki Hong Lee, Min Jin Lee, Lena Park, Jino Ahn, Hines Ward, Jenn Imm, Eric Nam, and many more. They are CEOs, actors, actresses, singers, authors, YouTubers, athletes, and entrepreneurs. But above all, they are Korean, and they are proud. And so, today I too can confidently say: I am Korean, I am proud.

<Christine Han／ 11th Grade Ridgewood HS Ridgewood, NJ>