Not My White Savior Read online

  Honor Myself

  my past

  my future

  well-being prays silence

  self-esteem breathes mindfulness

  heals sorrow filled spirit

  Father’s Day honors me

  I was never equal to men

  shall I honor you for this myth

  disrespecting women

  women I disrespect

  fathers not exempt

  titles demand respect

  mixed entitlement bag

  Father’s Day greetings

  Honor Myself

  Birthday Surprise!

  Happy Birthday!

  Birth Days not always Happy

  real, make believe, mystery?

  dates edited

  fabricated

  infant supply chain

  birth switch

  Seoul orphanage

  Kimpo plane

  Yonsei hospital

  agency files

  celebrate wrong birthdays

  wrong month

  wrong year

  Agency, hospital workers

  altered infant lives

  let’s delete your birthdays!

  Emerald birthstone wrong

  April diamond exchange?

  Taurus sign fake

  Rooster year wrong

  lunar calendar rotation

  doorstep abandonment

  Adoptee Happy Birthday needs permission

  social media removed birthday

  No birth certificate

  No family registry

  instead

  Unhappy Birthday

  Mystery Birthday

  Unknown Birthday

  Sad Birthday

  Mournful Birthday

  Confusing Birthday

  Annoying Birthday

  Frustrating Birthday

  Wrong Birthday

  Lied to Me About My Birthday!

  Our only birthday wish

  to know

  which day

  to celebrate…

  My Last Birthday

  On my last birthday

  I took the 6:30 a.m. Catalina Express

  Long Beach to Avalon

  wind fluttered

  pinned birthday ribbon

  indulged free birthday coffee,

  free birthday ice cream,

  free birthday dinner!

  Strangers offered rides

  first journal entry in forever

  awaited friend’s arrival

  late Orange County ferry

  paddled with stingrays, sea lions

  abandoned life jacket fished Pacific waves

  tourist T-shirts, magnets, postcards

  hiked Wrigley Memorial

  last sunset ferry

  no boyfriend birthday wishes

  grieved expected behavior

  thoughts of countless lives

  lost on a ferry

  an ocean away

  many still missing

  Sewol casket filled with grief

  On my last birthday

  I smoked a Cuban cigar in Old Havana

  washed down with Cuban rum

  lived my fantasy

  riding shotgun in a convertible

  big sunglasses

  hair tied down

  pink silk scarf ala Jackie O.

  bartered our driver to twelve dollars

  we cruised along the Melacon

  backseat photo shoot

  in a pink

  Hello Kitty taxi!

  seaside dinner our destination

  our last night in Havana

  capped off by Manny Pacquiao’s loss

  and a room full of deflated Filipinos

  On my last birthday

  I woke before dawn

  boarded the first Oakland to LAX flight

  I sat naked

  in a Koreatown spa

  surrounded by women

  all sizes, colors

  wrinkles hide millennials of secrets

  what secrets live in my mother’s skin?

  ajumma in black lace underwear

  sandpaper scrubbed my body

  I sat alone on the rooftop

  eating mandu rice cake soup

  On my last birthday

  I hope to know when my birthday is

  I hope I’ve left a legacy

  longer than a marathon

  up to the heavens

  On my last birthday

  this is my wish.

  III.

  See Out of These Slits

  Harry Holt’s Little Shop of Horrors

  *In memory of the Sueppel children: Ethan (10), Seth (7),

  Mira (5), Eleanor (3)

  Dried blood cradles four

  bruises caress tiny arms, feet

  toddler fists scream fear

  heads hit blunt force

  child torsos tear apart futures

  death consumes Iowa home

  Harry Holt’s Little Shop of Horrors

  sold four babies to white-collar murder

  suicide note smells concrete crash

  Murdered headlines

  rippled global shockwaves

  Korean mothers’ eternal empty arms

  Harry’s non-apology nauseates

  Better Life failed

  white savior father murder hands

  your lives testify corruption

  your deaths forever stain adoption

  Harry sleeps in peace

  six feet under

  your white savior

  couldn’t save you

  Fuck You, White Barbie

  White Barbie did not help my self-esteem

  she deceived me into thinking I had status

  I needed

  Korean Barbie

  my other Korean dolls

  to tell me the truth

  that I am beautiful

  I wish my dolls had looked like me

  not blonde, white

  Barbie was banned from my home

  until a school friend brought her to my birthday party

  excited to finally own this coveted toy

  I now feared repercussions

  for having Barbie

  worse yet, have her taken away

  she meant status

  Years later

  white Barbie moved on

  to her white sorority sisters

  too good for me

  my white sister-in-law gave me

  Korean Barbie

  complete with doll stand

  collector’s box

  traditional Korean clothing

  My Korean dolls

  destined for the shelf

  not allowed to play with them

  dusted them each week

  began to resent them

  they created work

  prevented me from playing

  with white Barbie

  Korean Barbie would have been my friend

  her destiny the shelf

  in her collector’s box

  with her stand

  clearly meant only for display

  Dolls of color silenced once again

  The status I thought white Barbie gave me

  was a setup, false hope

  smoke screen

  that I could be like the cool white kids

  I’d never have their status, privilege

  her plan from the start

  white Barbie betrayed me

  when she moved into my toy box

&
nbsp; Korean Barbie oppressed

  confined by white Barbie’s empire

  not allowed to speak the truth.

  If she did

  Korean Barbie sales

  would exceed white Barbie sales

  how does white Barbie have so much fucking power?

  Eyes Wide Open

  You may want to take another photo

  Someone’s eyes were closed

  Your camera made a racial slur

  Please delete!

  Almond shaped eyes are eyes wide open

  digest racism

  you think our eyes closed

  we see everything

  Cameras made for white people

  with racist lens

  use white filter

  to see beauty, perfection

  White grandmother asks

  how I can see out of these slits

  I see just fine

  I have 20/20 vision

  passed every eye exam

  for over four decades

  Last summer

  my eyes tired

  my Vietnamese optometrist

  asked me to open my eyes wider

  I knew he wasn’t racist

  like the camera

  like my white grandmother

  If you tell me to open my eyes

  you need to do the same

  you need to see true beauty

  Racist Hair

  My hair is racist

  ain’t no white person

  cutting my hair

  not after I waited over three decades

  for a haircut that made sense

  years of bad home perms

  white people think Asian hair

  the same as white hair

  The best haircut ever

  awaited me across the Pacific

  down a cobblestone Seoul alley

  near the women’s university

  ten dollars, a stylist, two assistants

  topped off with a coupon

  for my next visit

  a salon where children get their hair colored

  cuz it’s what you do in Korea!

  Once I crossed the line

  from white to yellow

  I never let another white person

  touch my hair

  didn’t care if the white intern

  felt bad when I told her Hands off.

  I’ve done my time with bad haircuts

  why pay someone

  if I know they’re going to mess it up?

  Again?

  Spa Stories

  I.

  Exfoliation grates my skin

  grime like dirty rice

  peppers pink plastic

  hugs the massage bed

  ajumma in black lace bra, panty set

  tells me in Korean

  to lie face down

  I didn’t learn that phrase

  she files my skin like sandpaper

  I lost a pound of dirt

  scrubs my naked body

  she guesses my age

  each wrinkle and fold

  reveals time

  I sit in every tub

  hot, warm, cold

  every steam room

  every sauna

  oak, salt, clay, jade, ice

  II.

  My first Korean jimjilbang visit

  included nudity

  not mine

  a random ajussi

  post-World Cup match

  lights turned low

  he took his place on the mat

  naked

  stared in shock amongst shadows

  nervous giggles crowded the room

  IV.

  My Body is Testimony

  100 Day American

  In memory of Madoc Hyunsu O’Callahan, Rest In Power,

  February 3, 2014

  American three months

  death at your white father’s hands

  high-ranking NSA agent

  your white savior abuser pleads guilty

  twenty-year sentence

  eight years subtracted

  dishonors your brief life

  your missed lifetime

  your murderer serves a brief refrain

  your body bruised, beaten

  hurled against walls

  fractured your toddler skull

  bleeding brain

  hemorrhaging eyes

  bath time turned tragic

  another Harry Holt casualty

  your white savior’s body

  protected by prison guards

  protected by PTSD

  protected by mental illness

  protected by psychotropic meds

  false drug tests

  We guard your grave

  your body buried

  beneath cheap plastic tombstone

  your death not in vain

  you’ll not be forgotten

  our baby brother

  we’ll see you soon

  Dear adopters,

  you don’t need to be white

  to be a white savior

  you are not entitled

  to my free labor

  to teach you

  adopter best practices

  recipe to raise your imported child

  $30,000 for your ornamental baby

  left you cold broke

  you plead for my handout advice

  why didn’t you budget for adopter training?

  don’t occupy my emotional space

  hanboks and kimchi

  do not qualify you Korean American

  did you really think on the job training

  enough

  with babies for sale?

  Assimilation

  Asians imitated caucAsians

  Selected from photographs were we

  Scandinavians dominated their adopted Asians

  Isolation in my own family

  Minnesota—Land of ten thousand adopted Koreans

  I am not part norwegian

  Lee Eun Jin is who I am

  After being raised a Republican I have recovered

  Three times on Sundays we went to church

  Individualization was taboo

  Oslo is the birthplace of my grandfather

  Naturalization transformed both him and me

  Seventh Grade White Men

  Konichiwa! Konichiwa! Am I in Japan? No. I am in a seventh grade American classroom in Coon Rapids, Minnesota.

  On what should be an ordinary day of substitute teaching in White Suburbia, USA, I am repeatedly greeted in Japanese by seventh grade whiteys. Seems they recently had a guest teacher who was, yes, Japanese. Guess they forgot the part about “appropriate use of non-English greetings.” As I begin my interrogation of these ignorant white boys, it turns out they don’t even know what Konichiwa means. I phone the cultural liaison and report their ignorant behavior.

  Anyeonghaseoyo! No. I’m not in Korea when the white man greets me in perfectly pronounced Korean.

  I’m still in Minnesota, in the city, not the suburbs. He claims he said this because I am carrying a bag that reads Korea compliments of the Korea Tourism Organization. I confront him about his ignorance and he tells me he does business with Koreans, his wife is Korean. Little does he know this is not helping his case. When I tell him I’m offended he starts to tell me he is offended, too. I walk away and tell him it’s best he keep his mouth shut.

  Sin chow! Nyobzoo! Still in Minnesota I want to ignore the white stranger who thinks it’s his right to practice his Asian language skills on me, but instead I confront and educat
e the fool. His disclaimer? There are so many children in the community who really appreciate it when he speaks to them in their first language and he has made such an effort to really understand their experience by studying their languages. Check—I’m not a child. Check—I don’t speak any Asian languages.

  Hanguk saram? Los Angeles white men are no different. I sit in his LinkedIn workshop and turn to the black woman next to me to confirm what I just heard. She says she thinks he’s trying to show off. When I confront him, he admits he wanted to practice his Korean. And you guessed it, he has a long-time Korean friend. I give him a low score on the workshop evaluation.

  Seventh grade white men, if you can’t translate my face, use the language of your ancestors not mine!

  Stupid Things People Say to Adopted Koreans

  Have you met your real parents?

  Why don’t you speak Korean?

  I taught English in Korea and met a Korean adoptee.

  I adopted my daughter/son from Korea!

  My dad served in the Korean War.

  Are you from the North or the South?

  Why don’t you like kimchi?

  You don’t look Korean.

  You should really watch The Joy Luck Club.

  I know a Korean adoptee who met their birth mom through one of those reunion shows on Korean TV. Have you tried that?

  Have you dated your brother? You’re not biologically related so…

  You’re lucky you were adopted. At least you didn’t have to grow up in an orphanage.

  Why haven’t you searched for your birth family?

  Why haven’t you gone back to Korea?

  You know, I’m second generation Korean American and we have so much in common.

  My partner and I are planning to adopt. Any advice?

  Are you 100 percent Korean?

  You should be thankful you got to go to America.

  How long have you been studying English?

  Are you an exchange student?

  If you hadn’t been adopted, I never would have met you!

  Maybe it’s not God’s will for you to meet your Korean family.

  Are You My Mother?

  You demand my subway seat

  because you are the elder

  I stand to face you

  notice familiar features

  why do you look away?

  do you recognize our resemblance?

  can’t face your guilt?

  You heckle me in Namdaemun market

  your kimchi the best