Preservation of Identity

    I hated going to Korean school as a child. Every Sunday morning, my parents would wake me up for church a couple of hours early to take me to the Korean school program there. I did not like waking up earlier. I did not like staring at a Korean textbook at 9:00 AM, the characters floating around in my empty brain. My pupils would burn into the clock, wishing it would tick by faster.

    As the pandemic swept into my life and threw away every sense of normalcy, my Korean school attendance slowly but surely dwindled. It was far too easy to skip class when it was held online. After a few weeks, I stopped going altogether.

    It is only recently where I have begun to regret my decision making. My regret intensifies when I realize how slow I read. How faulty and silly my grammar mistakes are in my writing. When I can’t think of the right words to say to my grandparents is when I am the most frustrated and regretful.

    Not having realized that the chance to learn a language, specifically one my family predominantly practices, was a privilege, I foolishly let the years pass by, allowing a part of my identity to erase. I found it interesting how in “English,” Marjan had a similar predicament. She let her roots get pulled out from the earth, trying to cut out any reminder of her Iranian culture. By not embracing the culture she grew up with, she let a part of her disappear. Similarly, by not embracing the chance to connect more with the culture that I was born with, I let a part of me shrivel up and die. It’s a bit dramatic to say, but the years won’t come back. The only thing I can do now is to trudge forward and hope that my hard work in the present and future is enough to make up for my laziness in the past. 

 

Event Of The Week:

Duke and Cooper Flagg got eliminated from the March Madness tournament.