American, Korean, or Both?

American, Korean, or Both?
Politics of Identity Reach Personal Levels
by Crystal Chappell

(This feature appeared in the Spring/Summer 1998 issue of the Bastard Quarterly.)

Like the Chappell family, many adoptees' families have bi-racial
portraits.

Dealing with their cultural identities, Korean American adoptees vary in
how they identify themselves, often struggling against how others view
them.

Bromley Chappell, a 25-year-old supervisor at Equinox Company,
near Lansing, Michigan, says, "I identify more with being myself
than with any type of group."

Chappell's identity is more American than Korean, he claims. "I guess if I
thought I was more Korean, I would be in a Korean family, in Korea. But
I really don't know any different, basically."

His sister, Brooke Chappell, also says she feels "definitely American: '
While she holds the dominant values and culture of her adopted country,
Chappell admits, "People don't look at me like I'm American, even though
I am."

Having parents and family who didn't have Korean friends, the
Michigan State University senior notes, "I didn't know what Korean
culture was; it wasn't an option. So I did my best to be American. But
I was constantly told I wasn't fulfilling it because I wasn't a perfect
American because I was Asian. I didn't look American. I wasn't
blonde. I wasn't tall."

Because of their racial features, Korean American adoptees face
assumptions that, as Asian-Americans, they are foreigners.

"They always expect a story explaining why you're here, why
you're so acculturated," Chappell says. "I've been complimented on
how well I speak English! Duh! That's the final clincher."

On top of questions like "Where are you really from?" adoptees have to
answer questions about their family history. Though Northwestern
University senior Pearl O'Rourke lives with her birth mother, she faces
some common issues with Korean American adoptees. For example,
O'Rourke, whose mother is Korean and adopted father is Irish, constantly
answers the question of how in the world her last name could be
O'Rourke.

"Honestly, it's none of their business, but it would be considered rude for me
not to answer. But no white person has to explain how they got their name."

While adoptees have become used to being required to make their private
information public, the information often serves only to help people-
non-Asian or Asian-apply stereotypes to them, O'Rourke says.

"It gives them a concrete set of answers for how to deal with you, to
tell how identified you are. It's a way for them to make assumptions about
you, not necessarily bad or good."

Growing up in the Chicago suburb of Cicero, O'Rourke, like other
adoptees who have claimed their Asian-American heritage, struggles
with the bicultural aspects of her own identity. One of only two Asians in
her graduating eighth-grade class, O'Rourke says her mother, teachers
and schoolmates constantly reminded her that she is Asian.

Her mother scolded her when she displayed traits that are "too
American," such as talking back. Teachers, who still remember her
as "Pearl, the Asian girl with an Irish last name," became upset when she
didn't want to do fan dances or bring egg rolls to ethnic fairs.

"I'd never done a damn fan dance!" O'Rourke said. Her family doesn't
eat egg rolls at home very often either.

Because children are so wlnerable to people, especially adults "who don't
mean to tokenize you "

O'Rourke said she felt ambivalent about being Korean until she reached
college. After being around Asian Americans who were normal people,
O'Rourke learned that "being Korean wasn't a job or a role, it was just me."
She did not have to live up to other people's irrational expectations of
what it was to be Korean.

Nonetheless, O'Rourke says she feels pressure on both sides, with
Asian Americans always being interested in how Korean she is.

"You have to prove your American-ness to non-Asians, and to Asians
you have to prove your Korean-ness. It's kind of a weird position to be in,"
she said. "When you're a child, it's hard to understand that the problem
is not solely yours but involves ethnic politics. "In the end it doesn't matter
if I can prove I'm Korean," O'Rourke said, "because when it comes down
to it, I am Korean."

Crystal Chappell is a reunited Korean-American adoptee who was raised in a
European-American family. She received her BS at Northwestern University's
Medill School of Journalism and now works for the Philadelphia Inquirer.
Crystal's Korean-American website was the first to chronicle the story of
a successful Korean adoptee seareh. Crystal is also Co-Editor of the Asian
American Quarterly.

(This feature appeared in the Spring/Summer 1998 issue of the Bastard Quarterly.)