By Lora Kim Kwan
G
rowing up in rural Pennsylvania, we did not celebrate Korean Thanksgiving, or Chuseok (추석). In fact, the first time I heard the word Chuseok was in college. An international student from Korea asked me if I was going home to visit my parents during the three day festival. He looked shocked when I said no. I turned beet red with embarrassment because I had no idea what Chuseok was, nor the significance of it to Korean people. After doing a little research, I found out that it is actually a very important holiday in Korea. How could it have so much cultural significance, yet I did not know what it was? I stabbed my mother’s name in my phone with my finger, and when she answered, demanded to know why we did not celebrate it. Her answer was “because we are in America.” I was dumbfounded.
Looking back, I understand the reasons why my parents did not carry over certain traditions and holidays to the U.S. when they immigrated in the 1970s. We lived in a small, rural town where one of my earliest memories was being chased down my street and repeatedly called a racial expletive. For my parents, the solution to their children being bullied was for us to speak perfect English and completely assimilate into American culture, something they could never fully do themselves. Of course, there were some concessions to this idea that they just could not give up, such as Korean food. However, when I came home crying from school one day because someone made fun of the delicious gimbap my mother made for my lunch, she started packing me turkey sandwiches and potato chips.
Despite my parent’s sincere attempts at shielding me from racial discrimination, it still occurred almost on a daily basis. During my formative years, I experienced a roller coaster of hating myself to being extremely defensive of my ethnic heritage and race. In a way, I was defending my very right to exist in a world that didn’t seem to agree with that notion.
I have children of my own now and have recently been on a journey of reclaiming and re-engaging with aspects of my Korean inheritance that have been lost or forgotten. Each generation of parents choose what they must do in order to give their children the best beginning springboard in life as possible. For my parents, that meant sacrificing their history in order for their children to start a new story in a new world. I am grateful for their sacrifice, and I have never known a home other than the US; although, to be fair, it does not always feel welcoming. What I want for my children is to be proud of where they came from and the sacrifices their grandparents made for them to have the privilege of not needing to sacrifice what makes them different. I am choosing to create a safe space for them to grow into their full God-given identity and embrace where our family came from.
My kids are half Korean and half Chinese, and I am dedicated to including significant cultural events and practices from both cultures so that they can learn and educate others. By normalizing our lost traditions and holidays in the US, it helps others to embrace theirs too. Teaching my children has been extremely meaningful in my own journey of reclaiming the forgotten parts of my identity, even those parts I did not know had been forgotten. There is a deep healing in reconnecting and rediscovering our roots, and I truly experience God’s love so warmly when I recognize the craftsmanship and delight He takes in His creation.
This Chuseok and Mid-Autumn Festival, my family and I will eat songpyeon and mooncakes, but we will also have our fill of God’s abundant faithfulness in our reclamation journey. I pray you will also be full of God's abundance.
추석 잘 보내세요!
Happy Mid-Autumn Festival!
Lora’s son holds a mooncake near a lantern
Image designed by pikisuperstar / Freepik
Lora serves as the Operations Manager at the Asian American Christian Collaborative. She has Masters degrees in Humanitarian and Disaster Leadership and Pastoral Care and Counseling. She is the Group Facilitation and Case Specialist for World Relief DuPage. She is committed to being a bridge for racial reconciliation, and a champion for cross cultural engagement. She is married to Justin, and has two amazing kids who are 5.5 and 4 years old. These days she can be found most likely in her urban garden or banging on a Korean drum in her spare time. You can connect with her at lora@aachristcollab.com.