Hafu, Hapa, Halfie...What Do I Call You?
We Love Names.
And everybody has one - whether it’s extremely specific (down to the son of son of son of son of… refer to Lord of the Rings for some excellent examples) or as vague as ‘the kid from the house on the corner'.
We give each other names as descriptors, as ways to define where you are in relation to each other. They are private symbols of our belonging. The more defined your Name becomes, the better we can understand who you are and where you belong. We create categories of terms to make sense of the complexity of the world. The names we use are powerful.
A name at its utterly most basic form is just a sound we generate by the physical movements of our tongue, throat, teeth… how we push air around and vocalize. These sounds themselves are completely and blankly meaningless without the meaning we ourselves put into them. This is why certain terms are not appropriate or permitted to use - not because of how they sound, but because of the meaning we put into them. I think of the ‘n’ word and the way it sounds to the English speaker. But in Korean, there is a word that’s quite similar audibly to it but has an entirely different meaning. In Korean, we say “내가” or “니가” (phonetically it would be “neh-gah” or “nee-gah”) which simply means “I” or “you” in an informal way. Would you be upset with a Korean speaker for using these words because of how similar it sounds to a racial slur in English? Of course not. Because we are the ones who define the meanings attached to the words.
Now, the question I wish to discuss here:
— Why did we choose the name The Hafie Project? —
It’s a fairly distinct term - “halfie” - and it generates some discussion and feelings, depending on who is hearing it. Primarily English speakers seem to find the most issues with it, I presume because of the word “half,” which could be construed as us saying ‘this person is not a whole person.’ Which I hope is not your takeaway from our work. To our primarily Korean speakers, ‘halfie’ is easily pronounced as “해피” - or, as it sounds, “happy” - which gets some pleasant reactions of “what a cute name” or “oh, I like how it shows half-Koreans are happy people.” That’s quite a range of responses.
But the word came to me one day as I was working in my office in Korea, feeling depressed and lost. The idea “The Halfie Project” leapt out of non-existence from some unexpected corner of my brain as I pondered on my unhappiness. Struck by this inspiration, I promptly created the original logo for the Halfie Project, which we still use sometimes. The name never changed from the first moment it came to my mind.
It was only after we posted our first video did I wonder if ‘halfie’ was going to be a lightning rod of dissatisfaction, according to some of the negative comments we received.
But the more I study, the more I ask and the more I consider other options, the less concerned I am about it.
The word ‘halfie’ didn’t attach any specific ethnicity to it. And this was something I liked. There are people over the world who fit in the umbrella of half-Korean but may feel more German or American or Kazakh. We didn’t want a term that made someone feel they had to separate themselves based on their nationalities. The word “Korean” could easily crowd out the other aspects of your ethnicity.
A friend of mine told me that when he came to Korea, he quickly realized how people embraced him far more readily when he introduced himself as half-Korean, rather than half-Egyptian, even though he carried more physical traits of Egyptian ancestry. The terms we use change the way we are viewed. I wanted a word that would allow people from whichever nationality to have a sense of belonging and still retain their multi-cultural background.
— I’d like to address the word ‘hapa’ at this point —
It’s another commonly used term for people of mixed race and we did release a podcast episode on it some time ago that I’m still quite proud of. If you haven’t heard it or watched it on the youtube channel yet, I really recommend that you do. But for a quick summary:
The word ‘hapa’ is a transliteration of the English word ‘half’ but quickly came to be used to describe the part-Hawaiian children in Hawaii. The word ‘hapa haole’ means part white – no Asian there whatsoever - and was used by native Hawaiians to describe the offspring of Islanders and white settlers. However, today, hapa is commonly used to describe a person of mixed Asian ancestry, regardless of which. Though there remains debate about the appropriate usage of ‘hapa,’ the term seems to have never been considered derogatory. And that is key to understanding how it came to be used widely, especially in the United States.
Wei Ming Dariotis, a professor of Asian American studies at San Francisco State University, stated in her essay “Hapa: The Word of Power” for the reason why ‘hapa’ was taken and utilized in the United States by mixed Asian people:
“'Hapa' was chosen because it was the only word we could find that did not really cause us pain. It is not any of the Asian words for mixed Asian people that contain negative connotations either literally (e.g. 'children of the dust', 'mixed animal')
or by association (Eurasian).”
If originally meaning part Hawaiians, then why is it used to describe every mixed Asian? Who has the right to it? Is it cultural appropriation? Listen to the podcast to learn more about this term and the questions surrounding its usage.
The word ‘halfie,’ on the other hand, was neutral and friendly, ready to encompass any with mixed background, ready to embrace those with one foot in and one foot out.
There is the actual Korean term for mixed race – 혼혈 (honhyeol) – but I admit I knew that it would not be easy for non Korean speakers to use it or remember. Additionally, the word 혼혈, though used fairly widely now, had negative connotations. It could mean anything from mixed blood to mixed breed, even though the original Chinese characters are quite literally just ‘mixed’ or ‘confused’ (혼/混) and ‘blood.’ (혈/血)The first generation of half-Koreans fought against being called this - once again I stress this point - because of the meaning that society bestowed upon it.
There are so many terms that mixed Asians could reach for – but how limiting, how narrow and, so often, how demeaning these terms could be.
To the outside viewer it might not be apparent but half-Koreans have their own unique differences. We are not gyopo, second generation, Koryo Saram, Korean-American… not exactly. We are, in some ways, but we are also something else. And having a term to distinguish that made sense.
As with everything, because we all put our own feelings and experiences behind words, it is important to clarify what precisely we mean.
We are two whole sides, embracing both, as a whole person. The term ‘halfie’ is in no way diminishing your entirety of self nor calling you half a person. We’ve heard those who say that half-Koreans are completely Korean, and completely their other ethnicity. Then there are those who say there are layers within the halfie spectrum; those who can speak Korean, and those who can’t, for example. If you can’t speak Korean, are you a “real” halfie? It is true that through language so much of the culture and unspoken context can be understood. But things can become complex quickly, as always with culture.
It’s fascinating to see how cultures fragment off, how some things remain unchanged over the years and then grow into something else but all the while retaining the name of the original culture. An ideal example would be Koryo Saram, ethnic Koreans in post-Soviet Union countries. There are third, fourth and fifth generation Koreans living in Russian-speaking countries who might still call themselves Korean while their food is different, their language is different, their style and family structures are different.
We are embracing many opinions on the term; but if we were to narrow it down, I’d say that halfie means a person with two cultures/ethnicities who both belong and neither belong to both said cultures/ethnic groups. It is an odd clashing of ideas that at first blush feel as if they should be mutually exclusive. This is no doubt why many people who aren’t connected to Korea still feel connected to what we talk about here.
In just a quick address to those well-meaning people who say “just call yourself Korean, why bother with the term 혼혈?” —
The short summary of the context behind the word ‘혼혈’ is that it was pushed on half-Koreans, a constant reminder that we’re not Korean. The first generation fought to be called just Korean, but it was too late. The government had a separate bureau to deal with 혼혈 issues, international adoption began in the effort to ‘get rid of’ half-Koreans, and wide spread discrimination stamped a permanent mark that made it very clear that half-Koreans were not Korean. Over time, I do believe the negative connotations and discrimination will fade. But for now, to ignore that history is to ignore too much of us. We did a podcast on this term, as well.
Does the word halfie seem too vague?
That’s the great and difficult thing about being biracial - and what we are trying to explore and reveal. It’s okay to feel different. Ultimately, the community of half-Koreans exists…. we’re just a little disconnected. There’s no obligation to make yourself fit in with Koreans or with white people or with black people or whoever you feel like you should be accepted by. You are you, and that’s enough.
So, what DO I call you? Ask your friend, ask yourself, listen and learn, then decide where you feel most comfortable. Let’s ask questions about culture and identity; let’s talk about it. Maybe there will be no hard and fast answers, but through open discussion perhaps we can at least try to understand ourselves and perhaps, one day, we’ll have the Name for ourselves.
