Photo by vonSchnauzer
By Debbie Gin
During my recent trip to Asia, I was surprised by two things — both of which continue to keep my mind busy and unsettled, so I share them here in hopes for some dialogue.
The first surprise (even after seeing many movies set in Hong Kong) was the realization that Hong Kong is almost all hills. As such, directions to a location come in three dimensions. Typically, in a flatter area like Southern California, you use East-West and North-South (i.e., two dimensions) when giving directions; the third dimension (up-down) is used, if at all, to indicate the final destination (Room 607, on the 6th floor). In Hong Kong, the up-down dimension is used to indicate another conduit to the destination, an easier way to get to the next building up the side of the hill. For example: go left, then right to such-and-such building, then take the escalator to the 3rd floor and use the pedway (bridge to get across the street) to the next building, and finally take the lift (elevator) to the 17th floor and cross through the plaza to the next building, where you’ll find Room such-and-such. Following these instructions in three dimensions takes you up the side of the hill with more ease.
A paradigm shift came when I asked myself, What other “third dimensions” am I missing — in teaching, leadership, ministry, and life? All I know for now is that in terms of geography, I missed seeing that third dimension because I live and function in an essentially two-dimensional landscape. I needed physically to be in a different geography in order to realize my limited view. So I ask, What “third dimensions” are you missing?
The second surprise stemmed again from being in a different context. Walking through a shopping mall’s food court in Seoul, Korea, I suddenly realized I was missing something. The food court was extremely hectic — lots of people trying to find an empty table, loud noises from talking, food preparation, and TV monitors, and a system of food ordering and retrieving that I wasn’t used to. However, I noticed a sense of calm and relief inside of me — unnoticeable at first, but more pronounced as I let my mind dwell on it. My first words to describe it went something like this: “Hey, no one’s staring at me. I’m just like them. I don’t look any different.”
For the entire trip, I had been struggling with my inability to speak as fluently as I wanted, but in that moment near the end of the trip, I realized that I was not unique, nor was I invisible! It was only then that I noticed that I had lost that gnawing, low-level anxiety that was always there when I was in the United States — the feeling that I had to prove myself in order to be accepted, and the sense of not being totally included. Then came a scary thought: I’ve lived my whole life not knowing what that feels like, to be part of the dominant community (i.e., “majority” culture). I wonder what kind of trajectory I’d have had if I’d been born as a White person in the U.S., rather than an Asian person. I guess I hadn’t realized the intensity of the weight that I carry here in the U.S. until I was in a context where the weight was gone.
So now I’m processing through all that, trying to articulate what I experienced and give names to all those thoughts and feelings. Frankly, as a professor, it can be a scary thing to admit that you don’t know something (or are only just coming to an understanding of that something). However, it can be so rewarding to see your students actually own that knowledge as we all come to it together. By not offering a “solution” here, I am also practicing a pedagogical approach that has been called “feminist” or “relational.” Mary Belenky and colleagues (1986) use the analogy of midwifery and emphasize that classroom teaching/learning should be about the process of coming to the solution. Instructors taking this approach willingly guide the class with transparency, explicitly acknowledging their own lack of understanding and other insecurities about the topic, and resist the urge to share only when they’ve come to some kind of conclusion or end product (which is closer to the “rational” or “scientific” method of an earlier, Modern classroom).
Thus, I’m curious about your experiences, thoughts, and feelings. No conclusions yet, please. Just your honest reflections….
Debbie Gin, M.Div. M.Mus., is the Senior Faculty Fellow in Faculty Development at Azusa Pacific University and an Assistant Professor in Biblical Studies and Ministry at Haggard Graduate School of Theology. She and her husband live in Southern California.
aawolsisters.com 
Debbie, thank you for your reflection on your trip to Asia. I remember a 1.5 pastor friend of mine stated right before my trip to Korea, “I envy you.” What he meant was the fact that despite invisible blending when Korean Americans visit Korea, the lack of memories in that context poses dissonance beyond the surface appearance. Did you also know that in Hong Kong gender disparity we address here is not an issue? In fact I heard that all the top CEOs there are women! This confirms Chloe’s comment when she returned from her recent visit to Hong Kong. “There is no gender inequality in Hong Kong,” said she. I so look forward to the day when churches cease to discriminate against women leaders. I am beginning to ramble rather than responding to your reflection. I will be writing about gender and the Korean churches soon.
Thanks, Young, for your comments. I had no idea that Hong Kong has little/no gender inequities! (Our host family did help us see some of the class issues, particularly related to domestic helpers…largely from Southeast Asia and the Philippines.) That’s another shift for me: I wonder what growing up in a context like that would have been like…..Looking forward to your blog post!
Your writing reminded me of the same sort of feeling I had when I went to visit Korea. I came to the states when I was 5 and had never gone back until about 15 years later. It definitely was a different feeling to be part of the majority, at least physically. I grew up in an area with very few Asians and I still distinctly remember the difficulty I had in fitting in. It definitely had a huge impact on the person that I am today. However, going to Korea, I didn’t feel different in general physical appearance.
I feel like if I had been a White girl growing up…actually, a Black girl, since I have yet to encounter many White people still…in America, life would have been very different. I know that many of the kids I grew up with preferred to have been born to White parents, but me, I always wanted to be Black, and I wanted to be a boy. I just felt that life would have been easier that way.
Since you specifically asked for no conclusions, I will just end with one other thought I had while visiting Korea. Although I felt that I fit in to the majority ethnicity, I realized that I am still very different than the average Korean that grew up in Korea. I suddenly found myself wondering where I fit in. In America, I had friends with similar backgrounds but different ethnic cultures, and in Korea there were so many people that could pass for me in appearance, but none that I could really relate to in my experiences.
This is me trying very hard not to give away my conclusions and trying to keep my ramblings as short as I can. I just wanted to say thank you for reminding me of my experiences, for what am I without my past experiences. You’ve allowed me the chance to reflect on what makes me me.
Jasmine, thank you very much for your articulate (and intentionally inconclusive!) reflections. (It’s a precious art, isn’t it, to stay in the process, particularly since we’ve been socializaed/conditioned to come quickly to a conclusion in our educational system?)
I’m especially thrilled about your last sentence; it’s about feeling comfortable in your own skin. Though our experiences have been different, I think I understand (and wrote about–shamless plug for our book _Mirrored Reflections_ which is by and about Asian American Christian women) a bit of that never-fitting-in feeling you refer to. While I was in Korea, it was so different to feel, even for a moment, that I _wasn’t_ unique, that I fit in.
Your experience growing up in a predominantly non-White context is also interesting. I’m curious about why you wanted to be Black. I suppose for me, having been raised in predominantly White neighborhoods, the default would have been White in my local context. Of course, there’s the standard in the larger context: e.g., “nude” or “flesh colored” means White (not brown); history or “the story of settlers” refers to White immigrants from Europe (not Chinese/Asian immigrants who have been here nearly as long). So wanting to be White could be seen as the typical default for many. I’m sure you have a story in there….
Thanks again for your courage to post and share your story of comfort/discomfort in your own skin! Would love to hear from others!!
I had actually edited the reason why I wanted to be Black out in order to keep my comment short, but since you asked and since I enjoy sharing…=D
I wanted to be Black because throughout my childhood (basically until high school), I was made fun of for being Asian. My classmates made fun of my small eyes and “flat face”…I also remember being made fun of for defending myself in Korean. Kids would mock me and say, “hajimah, hajimah” (which translates to “stop”). I must have said it when I had first transferred to my last elementary school in second grade, because I was probably still learning English at the time. There was an average of about three non-Black, non-Hispanic kids in my classes throughout elementary and middle school. The three of us included me, another Korean girl that had been at the school since kindergarten and would join the other children in bullying me, and one White boy. I guess I like to say that it was natural for me to want to be Black, because it seemed like I wouldn’t be made fun of if I had been Black like most of the other children.
Debbie, thank you again for your wonderful post, and thank you also for your reply. I have just found and placed Mirrored Reflections into my Amazon cart. I can’t wait to read it!
Wow, thanks for sharing this part of your story, Jasmine. I must confess that my blood continues to boil every time I hear a story about bullying, particularly racialized bullying. No matter the communities involved in a given story, it still reveals sin, doesn’t it?
I want to continue to reflect on this topic with you (and whoever else is reading), if I may. The role of the other Korean girl is actually a common one in diversity literature. In order NOT to be the one picked on, those in the non-dominant group may elect to participate in the ridiculing, sometimes even LEADING that charge in order to prove they’ve “made it” into the dominant group. It’s such a sad thing to see, in my opinion: an internalized racism that occurs for sheer survival. And, perhaps in our own growth journeys, we have participated in those kinds of actions in our own ways too?!! Ultimately, I wonder whether it’s more symptomatic of our society or the systems that exist in society: limited power, resources, access, connections to influential people, etc. that some communities get a huge head start on (consider: race, gender, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, etc.).
Again, curious: how did you feel about the other Korean girl? And how about the White boy?
Hope you find the book helpful or, at least, thought-provoking…
I’m definitely not proud of this, but I, too, participated in the bullying. By middle school, I started to bully the White boy in our class. I knew that I wasn’t bullied just for being Asian; I was bullied for being different. By middle school, I guess I realized that the White boy was even more different than me (he was very shy, seemed antisocial, and would pick his nose a lot in middle school), and just like you mentioned, I joined the “dominant group” and in a way, bullied to show that I had “made it.” Like I said, I definitely am not proud of it, and I still try to be as nice to people as possible as if it would make up for the people I’d hurt in the past.
As for the other Korean girl, I just did my best to ignore her, just like I ignored the other bullies. In the end, I became friends with the bullies, including the Korean girl, and I realized that they were just looking for friends.
I remember there was one girl that would bully me a lot. Of course, I ignored her just like I did the others. Then one day, after I ignored her saying something to me, she said, “just because you have long hair and you’re smart, doesn’t mean that you can ignore me.” There I was, trying to stay out of trouble, when I realized that some of these girls just didn’t know how else to make new friends. After that incident, I’ve become a lot less sensitive to the things people may say to hurt me. I really don’t even know how to describe it, but that one moment changed the way I look at people quite a lot.
The thing is, I think that racism stems a lot from not being able to understand the other person, group, or culture in their differences. I think that as human beings, we can be so into finding common ground with others (maybe as a way to connect), that when new people with different ways of doing things come along, we try to push them away and end up judging and being prejudice. That’s why i try to give people the benefit of the doubt, try to see where people are coming from, and try to get others to do the same. It doesn’t matter what your background is. A person is still a person and there are always reasons for why people are different. If we stay open-minded and try to be more understanding of each other, there’s a much greater chance that people can get along, rather than be judgemental of different people. I think it just takes a few moments of thinking to make this world a better place.