My name is Meeja.
Photos and writing provided by Meeja
When I meet somebody for the first time and they ask me, 'what are you or what's your mix?’ I usually just tell them I'm half Korean and half white. Growing up in a very white suburb in the Midwest, I didn't really have exposure to other Koreans, especially since my mom was deaf and adopted.
Being mixed was something that I was always aware of, though it always felt like that was the third component of my identity. My primary identity was always being a child of a deaf adult (CODA). Then the fact that my mom was adopted; we were always aware of how my mom was different from her brothers and sisters. I knew I was different because my mom was different.
Maybe it wasn't being mixed specifically, but I just knew that I was not the same as everyone else.
My mother being a Korean adoptee has made a significant impact on my connection to the culture and community. Because my mom was adopted by a white family, I feel like it’s almost been ingrained in me to assimilate with a white community. I think that's another component to why I may have subconsciously or even consciously repressed my Korean heritage at times.
My mom always tried to have us participate in Korean cultural activities. I think she did the best she could with what we had. We couldn't afford to fly out to Korea all together, being from a lower income Midwest family, and besides, we didn’t know any family there. With my parents being deaf, it wasn’t easy going through airports and customs.
My dad was always very open but I never remember him actively supporting us or encouraging us to explore that side of our identity. I think he had his own idea of really wanting to be this all-American traditional family with the classic idea of a white picket fence home. I think being deaf pushed him even more to want to be accepted in the community around us.
I can't speak for my mother and how she thinks about being adopted has impacted her, but for me it has definitely impacted my experiences, my identity and how I’ve been trying to figure out where I belong.
I think that there is a layer of generational trauma that comes from that. My mother was adopted at fourteen and she had been raised in a more village-like upbringing in a community of other Deaf Korean children. She didn’t have one or two parents but several people who oversaw the orphanage. She spoke a lot about feeling alone or being on her own a lot. Growing up, she really emphasized independence.
Looking back on it, I wonder if it was because that was the only way she could feel safe or it was something familiar for her - this idea of hyper-independence was kind of instilled in me, for good or for bad. I think that was something that did trickle down to me.
My passion project ‘Return to Jeong’ started when I moved to New York. I realized how much more access I had to the Korean community here, physically. Back in Indiana, there is a very tiny community but it’s hard if you don’t know the language, and with my mom being deaf and adopted, we were never able to connect.
In New York, I’ve been able to experience so many things, like food, cultural performances and just meeting people with so many different Korean identities within the diaspora. I wanted to document all of this - it was now or never. I realized that a lot of my experiences were very similar to that of Korean adoptees, then I was finding more people who were fully Koreans but not adopted. There were Korean Americans who had also lived in predominantly white communities and we had very parallel experiences. Then parents of mixed Koreans started reaching out to me. I felt like there was a need for this community.
I'm starting to meet more Koreans in other countries, which I think helps us become more aware of how we behave and interact with others - it’s all part of us growing into the most genuine, authentic forms of ourselves.
Initially, I had put a lot of pressure on myself to try and find somebody from my family through DNA tests. Then I talked with a Korean adoptee friend who told me that they had kept putting it off and making it a bigger deal than it needed to be until his partner suggested that he just visit Korea as a tourist and enjoy it for the first time. When I heard that, it felt like a huge weight was lifted off of me. I do want to just go to Korea and explore and feel what it’s like, instead of trying to find something.
I'm not sure if this is because of the way my mom was raised or it's just something internal, but when I think of Korea I think about the nature - the mountains and just the more spiritual side of things. There’s no strong imagery that comes into my head, but more of this intangible thought that just kind of exists.
I think it's incredibly important to preserve culture and tradition. We should have a foundation, know what happened in the past, so that we can learn from those things. We have to know the good and the bad. I think culture keeps us ground and connected with where we came from. Even if it’s as simple as just being interested or making us feel like we belong to something. I don’t think it has to be absolute. With preserving culture, I think it’s okay to evolve. Things change.
