Hello all! My name is Laura Markou. I am guest writing about my experience growing up as an Asian American. I am the Asian American Associations’ current Programming Chair at Indiana University Bloomington.
When I was younger, I saw no difference in my appearance than any other child. All that made a difference back then to me was which Barbie doll I had and having the bragging rights when being in possession of the most recent doll. I was born to a Korean mother and a Greek-American father. Although I was born in Seoul, Korea, I spent the majority of my childhood and teenage years in the remote town of Peru. Peru, Indiana…not the country. I never learned the Korean language. My mother began to teach me a few words, but my father said that it was “stupid.” How I wish I had learned the language of my mother or rather the language of my own heritage back then, it would had made life much easier (rest assured, I am currently enrolled in a Korean language course).
I recognized my difference in appearance when I was around 5 years old. I was with my brother exploring the woods, sliding in dirt while the rest of my family was fishing. There were two Caucasian boys around the same age of my older brother and I playing as well. I remember this action clearly and will never forget it for the rest of my life. The two boys strode up to us, put their fingers up to their eyes, curled up the corners, and said “Chinese, Chinese, Chinese.” I was baffled. I clearly remember being confused yet at the same time I felt greatly offended. I remember wondering what was the reason was that caused them to do this. My brother just grasped my hand, and we simply walked away without speaking a single word. This was the first time I had ever experienced any racial prejudice. From that point on, I began to notice more. I noticed how my mother always spoke in Korean. I began to feel ashamed. Whenever my mother spoke Korean to my younger sister, who is full Korean, I would tell them to stop it or be quiet. I clearly remember sliding down in my seat while in the car with my family.
I desperately wished that I wasn’t part Asian; I didn’t want to be “different.” The demographic of Asian Americans in Peru is greatly small. Such a small number it most likely isn’t much over one percent. I hated myself sometimes. I have long dark hair and eyes which are hazel yet have an almond shape. I looked at girls with blond hair in my class with envious eyes. Jealously overtook me during middle school. I would never have sky blue eyes or light hair. I did not bother to learn any culture about Korea or Greece, I felt lost and empty.
The change of my thoughts came in high school. For some reason, around my junior year of high school, I began to be interested in Korean culture. I urged my mother to teach me more words and phrases. I actually began to speak Korean as well. I would spend quality time with my mother helping her in the kitchen and observing as she made the best kimchi jiggae in this world! No doubt about it J Strangers would tell me I was beautiful and exotic. I had never heard that before. I’m quite unsure what caused me to have the change of heart, but I am glad I did. To this day, I still struggle with maintaining both sides of my identity, but now it is completely different. I love myself, I love my family, I love my culture. I am Korean, I am Greek, and I am American. Don’t let anyone ever negatively influence your life. You are above that. You are you.
~Laura
