Always Different, Somehow the Same,
by Kim, Eun Young
Growing up wasn't always easy, especially in elementary school. It had its ups and downs, just like everything else, but the downs were the hardest to deal with. I never really fully comprehended that I was Asian, until about the second grade.
The first two years of school flew by quickly, all blurring together. I was a happy bubbly child whose hero at the time was my older brother and always strangled a stuffed cow named Puffa in my arms. My first memory of a negative time was in the second grade. After the first day of school, I had already made some friends. I thought life would be perfect, until the day another classmate approached me. She looked at me, and then pulled her eyes in different directions. I looked at her with a weird expression, until she finally said, "What's wrong with your eyes?" I looked at her, unsure of what to say. I only answered with a shrug as she laughed and walked away. That was the very first time I felt different.
Years following, kids continued to ask questions. Some questions still hang
over me to this day. "Are they your parents?" "Hey, what are
you?" The most common question I received while growing up however was, "Did
you run into a wall when you were little?" I never really understood what
it meant until I finally brought up enough courage to ask the most important
person in my life - my mother. After I asked her what that question meant,
she sighed and looked at me with a saddening look to her hazel eyes. She told
me that
because I was Asian, I didn't have a significant bridge on my nose like
Americans did. After hearing this, I just nodded and walked away, still not
fully comprehending what it meant.
Throughout my elementary years, slurs and questions followed me. They weren’t
very frequent, but enough to be burned into my mind.
"
Chink".
"
Flat Face".
"
Slant Eyes".
Those were the most popular insults awarded to me. Yay. Unfortunately, my only
defense back then was to call the bully the only name I could think of and
walk away. That pathetic name was "Big Nose". Remembering this now,
I wish I could've just backhanded those little mother nasties and been done
with it all.
I never really did tell my mother everything that happened in school for fear that she would do the most embarrassing thing possible: call the principal, the teachers, the S.W.A.T, team, and then storm into school like she owned the place demanding that something be done about this horrible matter. Lucky for me she was never on the PTA. I thought I would always be the yellow crayon in a box of whites, until the summer that changed my life.
This summer was in 1999 when I was going into fourth grade. Earlier, my mother had stumbled upon a heritage camp in Colorado for Korean adoptees around the country. That summer we took the two day car ride from Phoenix to Winter park and met up with our host family who had a daughter my age and a son a bit older than my brother. Little did I know that this new girl would soon become my best friend.
We arrived to camp a day earlier than most people, to get acquainted to the altitude change and get settled in. My brother and I went off after we registered and played mini golf and swam in the pool while my parents found our room. The next day we met our host family. The little girl's name was Caitlin, and she was just like me. Our parents introduced us, and a smile accompanied with "Hi" was all that was exchanged. The silence between us didn't last long, however. Caitlin asked me if I wanted to go play, and I agreed. After that, we couldn't be seperated, or quieted. About an hour after we had arrived at Snow Mountain Ranch, I ran to my dad asking how many weeks we were staying. I was very disappointed to find out that camp was only three days long.
During our short period of time we were always together. Caitlin and I wore our bright yellow camp shirts with pride, somehow knowing that we both had a friend that would last a lifetime. Always together, never apart, people wondered if we were sisters. Oddly enough, others wondered if we were twins, not noticing the obvious height difference that still remains today, or the difference in our facial features. Nevertheless, our three days were the best I had ever had. Finally I was in a place where there seemed to be millions of faces that all looked similar to mine, Korean. Nobody cared that you had a "flat nose" or that your eyes slanted, because just like you, everyone else's did too. KHC was, and still is, a utopia for all Korean adoptees.
Following the tradition, our families continue to attend KHC, even to this day. Many friendships were made with memories that will last forever. Back then we would all continuously write to each other via snail mail, but now resort to instant messengers, email, and Myspace to keep in touch. Surviving grade school wasn't the easiest, being the "odd ball out", but KHC made it so much easier. Every summer I look forward to taking the hour and a half plane trip to visit my best friend and the most amazing place on earth. Falling in love with our counselors, from the very first year I attended, Caitlin and I vowed that we would both become counselors after graduating high school. We anxiously and slowly counted down the seemingly endless years we had to wait. Now, with only two years left, we couldn't be more excited.
