I Don’t Need It

- Intermezzo -

I’ve always understood Korean better than I could speak it. But why is it that my speaking never reached the level of my understanding?

For as long as I could remember, it was all my parents who spoke around the house. Yet I still failed to pick up on the language, and even when I went to formally study it I picked up even less.

Maybe it was because I had a hard time figuring out who I was. My parents expected me to be a certain way at home, but it didn’t jive with everything I experienced as soon as I stepped outside. And once I came back in, I would only be more confused when they told me to leave all I had absorbed at the front door.

'You’re 100% Korean, always remember that,' my dad would say to me. But I always felt anything but, and he would never try to understand why.

I think this identity issue would never have been a problem if I had grown up in their native country. Surely we would have gotten along better, the absence of a language barrier playing only a secondary role. I would have a clearer picture of the role I was meant to play, society’s expectations only echoing my parents’ own.

I can easily imagine us as one happy family unit. A stable, well-paying job. Lots of friends. A traditional wife and kids of my own.

What would that have cost me?

I could have avoided years of resentment, self-hatred, and loneliness. But I would never have found out how ugly the truth actually was, how terrible reality could be.

I would have never been free.

• • •

Some years back, I studied Korean intensely. There wasn’t any special motivation behind it–I was just lost and it gave me something, just barely, to hold onto.

I still dream of becoming fluent, of one day having a real conversation with my parents on their home turf. There's a real possibility this could allow us to talk about what we never have. But as much as I want it, I don’t need it to happen.

For the longest time, all I wanted was their unconditional love.

Now, I feel stable enough to live without it.