i love Korean Grandmas.
especially my own, but generally i find that Korean Grandmas are the kick-ass sort who flip society the bird from behind their too-large shades with their animal print shirts and permanently sour-puss looks.
as if to say, "Epp you, modahn day nohms, I habuh my own agenda. And dis is my regime's uniporm."
the other day, though, it hit me: after the current generation of wise-cracking, battle-scarred grandmas...disappear...they'll be gone forever.
at least in the US.
think about it.
all that sass came from decades of walking through war-torn streets, learning not to give a damn, and perfecting the art of practical "fashion."
the socks in sandals for comfort, warmth, and full range of motion for those toes.
the animal print, for urban camouflage.
the visors, so the sun won't blind them as they get up to their shenanigans.
like scowling at passersby.
muttering Korean obscenities about them.
haggling.
speed-walking.
nowadays, the up and coming generations of Koreans in the US have become way too trendy.
at least, too trendy to even consider tossing away their - i-don't-even-know-what-their-chosen-articles-of-clothing-are-called-because-i'm-so-frumptastic - in exchange for the Korean grandma fad.
it makes me sad to think that my own grandkids (if they're to exist) will never know what it's like to go Ajimah-spotting.
being waved at in that little way only those grandmas can do, where the hand and forearm almost spasm in unison, and the lady responsible purses her lips in what's supposed to be a friendly smile.
no old ladies to reach out, uninhibited, and pat them on the head.
no little 'fros.
they'll all - mostly - speak English fluently.
i feel like i have a responsibility to future children.
like when i'm old, i have to take on the challenge of keeping the Korean grandma phenomenon going.
learn to speedwalk with my hands clasped behind my back.
purse my lips.
wag my finger at questionable strangers.
overfeed my grandchildren.
clap my hands whenever i laugh.
examine things a little too closely, disregarding the concept of "personal space."
i owe it to my grandkids.
no one should have to miss out on the Korean grandma.
this is a call to short, stubby arms.
the kind that are generally stiff, even and especially when they randomly reach out and yoink you into a hug.
Grandma - Halmony - even though you can't read English, this one's for you.
for all those little slaps you gave my mom whenever she slapped me.
for being the only adult blood relative i had to tell me from the get-go that i should, "Grow up. Go to collegey. Be comedian."
for being you.
i salute you.
love you.
teach me your ways.
Showing posts with label korean. Show all posts
Showing posts with label korean. Show all posts
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
17. i come from a long line of terrifying women. and i take after my dad.
long time, no talk.
but excuses are like butts, and right now mine's hidden because of its recent descent into flabby unawesomeness, so i'll spare you.
anywho.
lately, i've been learning all sorts of fun facts about my family's history.
my Dominican side has ties to the assassination of Trujillo, and my Korean grandma broke all of the rules.
ALL of the rules.
apart from successfully escaping the clutches of her North Korean captors during the Korean War, she also managed to do much of the same from her adulterous husband.
apparently, my Korean grandpa was anything but faithful to her during their marriage.
he had affairs - Jeebus knows how many - and eventually, he managed to get a woman pregnant.
pissed, my grandmother had him and his mistress arrested - because adultery was against the law in those days - which was unheard of, as it was usually men who turned their adulterous wives in, while enjoying the company of as many women as they chose.
but my grandmother had him put into prison, divorced him, and bent his entire family to her will as she was the one with the money and the power.
"When he's released," she told him and his family, "I will help support him, but only because he can't support himself."
the family had no choice but to do whatever she asked.
so she was a war survivor and a divorcee.
and, on top of everything else, a successful Black Market saleswoman.
we still don't know the details.
all we know is that she also managed to raise my mother: a woman whose nickname in high school was Barracuda.
according to our aunt, my mother was the type who actively disliked just about every boy in school, which in turn only increased her appeal and made said boys want her love all the more.
nothing changed when she graduated and took a job at the US military base near her hometown.
indeed, she had been proposed to several times, and even found herself occasionally serenaded in the Officers Club and bars and the like.
she was the shit.
and, according to her, she knew it.
the only person who didn't seem to know it was, of course, my clueless dad.
"Uh, dat's where YOU get it from," she told me, mid-story.
anywho.
apparently, my mother was confused as to why this one man just didn't seem to like her as much as all the other men she met.
What's wrong with him? she wondered, and, What's wrong with me?
she had to get to the bottom of it and make him notice her.
she tried flirting.
"But he was stupid and didn't notice."
"...I really didn't..."
"So I had to try eben hahdah."
"Yep. She did."
and so she resorted to spreading rumors about how she had a crush on Andy Toro - a rumor she hoped would reach him.
and it did.
"But I didn't really believe it," my dad interjected, "The guys would say things like, 'Hey, man, I heard Ms. Kim wants to have a tour of your tank.' And I'd be like, '...So?'"
and my mom shook her head.
"Useless."
finally, my mom took a more direct approach.
"Andy?" she asked one day, when they ran into each other, "Would you mind teaching me Englishy? My Englishy is uh berry bad."
"Huh?" was all my dad could say, clearly confused, "Um...I guess..."
and after just a couple of sessions, my dad finally came to his senses.
finally, he asked her out.
"Okay," she told him, "But I just hab to uh tell my boypriend I can't see him anymoh."
"...Boyfriend?!" my dad exclaimed.
"...Boyfriend?!!!" i exclaimed, years later.
"Uh huh," my mom went on, "Foh a while I was dating dis man wis biiig glasses, berry tall, berry white, but berry nice. He wanted to get married, but he couldn't marry me while in his kind obah job, so he quit and said we could stay in uh Korea for a few moh years so I could learn better English befoh we go to dah States."
i stared.
"Yeah. I felt so bad when I broke up wis him. I couldn't eben look him in the face when I did it. But aptahword, when we left dah restaurant, I finally looked up at him, and his glasses were so foggy, and I felt so bad, so I just reached out my hand and gabe him a handshake and said, 'Okay! Bye!' And dat was it. Huh. I wondah where he is now?'"
my dad shook his head.
"Yep. And I bet you regretted it ever since."
"...Maybe. hahahaha."
knowing this doesn't make the fact that both of my parents are sure that i take after my dad at all comforting.
"But look at it dis way," my mother tried to console me, "It's actually lucky you're a lesbian."
"...Why?"
"Girls like nerdy, awkward, shy people moh. Look at me and yoh daddy."
but excuses are like butts, and right now mine's hidden because of its recent descent into flabby unawesomeness, so i'll spare you.
anywho.
lately, i've been learning all sorts of fun facts about my family's history.
my Dominican side has ties to the assassination of Trujillo, and my Korean grandma broke all of the rules.
ALL of the rules.
apart from successfully escaping the clutches of her North Korean captors during the Korean War, she also managed to do much of the same from her adulterous husband.
apparently, my Korean grandpa was anything but faithful to her during their marriage.
he had affairs - Jeebus knows how many - and eventually, he managed to get a woman pregnant.
pissed, my grandmother had him and his mistress arrested - because adultery was against the law in those days - which was unheard of, as it was usually men who turned their adulterous wives in, while enjoying the company of as many women as they chose.
but my grandmother had him put into prison, divorced him, and bent his entire family to her will as she was the one with the money and the power.
"When he's released," she told him and his family, "I will help support him, but only because he can't support himself."
the family had no choice but to do whatever she asked.
so she was a war survivor and a divorcee.
and, on top of everything else, a successful Black Market saleswoman.
we still don't know the details.
all we know is that she also managed to raise my mother: a woman whose nickname in high school was Barracuda.
according to our aunt, my mother was the type who actively disliked just about every boy in school, which in turn only increased her appeal and made said boys want her love all the more.
nothing changed when she graduated and took a job at the US military base near her hometown.
indeed, she had been proposed to several times, and even found herself occasionally serenaded in the Officers Club and bars and the like.
she was the shit.
and, according to her, she knew it.
the only person who didn't seem to know it was, of course, my clueless dad.
"Uh, dat's where YOU get it from," she told me, mid-story.
anywho.
apparently, my mother was confused as to why this one man just didn't seem to like her as much as all the other men she met.
What's wrong with him? she wondered, and, What's wrong with me?
she had to get to the bottom of it and make him notice her.
she tried flirting.
"But he was stupid and didn't notice."
"...I really didn't..."
"So I had to try eben hahdah."
"Yep. She did."
and so she resorted to spreading rumors about how she had a crush on Andy Toro - a rumor she hoped would reach him.
and it did.
"But I didn't really believe it," my dad interjected, "The guys would say things like, 'Hey, man, I heard Ms. Kim wants to have a tour of your tank.' And I'd be like, '...So?'"
and my mom shook her head.
"Useless."
finally, my mom took a more direct approach.
"Andy?" she asked one day, when they ran into each other, "Would you mind teaching me Englishy? My Englishy is uh berry bad."
"Huh?" was all my dad could say, clearly confused, "Um...I guess..."
and after just a couple of sessions, my dad finally came to his senses.
finally, he asked her out.
"Okay," she told him, "But I just hab to uh tell my boypriend I can't see him anymoh."
"...Boyfriend?!" my dad exclaimed.
"...Boyfriend?!!!" i exclaimed, years later.
"Uh huh," my mom went on, "Foh a while I was dating dis man wis biiig glasses, berry tall, berry white, but berry nice. He wanted to get married, but he couldn't marry me while in his kind obah job, so he quit and said we could stay in uh Korea for a few moh years so I could learn better English befoh we go to dah States."
i stared.
"Yeah. I felt so bad when I broke up wis him. I couldn't eben look him in the face when I did it. But aptahword, when we left dah restaurant, I finally looked up at him, and his glasses were so foggy, and I felt so bad, so I just reached out my hand and gabe him a handshake and said, 'Okay! Bye!' And dat was it. Huh. I wondah where he is now?'"
my dad shook his head.
"Yep. And I bet you regretted it ever since."
"...Maybe. hahahaha."
knowing this doesn't make the fact that both of my parents are sure that i take after my dad at all comforting.
"But look at it dis way," my mother tried to console me, "It's actually lucky you're a lesbian."
"...Why?"
"Girls like nerdy, awkward, shy people moh. Look at me and yoh daddy."
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