by
All my life, I'd lived in the Midwest, and my slanted eyes made me stick out. There justweren't that many Korean-Americans in Toledo, Ohio. That outsider feeling changed after my first year as an undergraduate: Just before the end of the school year, my mother called and told me I was going to Korea for the summer. I wasn't all that excited about the idea, but she'd already gotten the ticket and told grandma I'd be visiting...
The first week or two there were fun. Not because I was learning the language and connecting with my heritage - I wasn't. I was enjoying myself, because, for the first time in my life, I was blending in. There, if I dressed a certain way and kept my mouth shut, no one would know I didn't belong. I could become invisible.
I used my newfound powers to spy on people. That was fun. The best people to watch were other American tourists. They'd invariably end up getting lost and start looking for an English speaker who could help them. If they turned to me, I looked them right in the eyes and said the one sentence I'd mastered:
Eego, uhl-mah-ay-yo?
Which means: How much does this cost?
And then I'd take off. This went on for awhile. Then, I got a rash that made my skin bubble up with yellow and red blotches. Every inch of me itched and radiated heat. People stared at me, horrified by the monster that had invaded their country.
I was depressed. I thought I was probably going to die or become sterile or something. More importantly, I'd lost the ability to blend in.
A couple of days passed, and the fistfuls of mysterious pills my aunt made me swallow each morning weren't making me better. My relatives were getting tired of sharing their meals with a mutant, so I had to go to a doctor.
We hatched a scheme: I'd pretend that I was my cousin so I could use his medical coverage. Which meant that I had to blend in for real. {beat} I was terrified.
At the clinic, my aunt forbade me from speaking. The nurse came in and ushered me into a curtained-off area. I watched her for clues as to what I was supposed to do. Her arm motions suggested that I was supposed to lower my jeans and bend over.
[Euna]: Eey namja noon whe baji ruur bussut nayo?
I was afraid of the needle, but I had to keep my composure and appear as Korean as possible. I succeeded. She injected me and sent me on my way.
I went back everyday for a week. Everyday, she'd jabber at me, and I'd silently drop my pants for her.
[Euna]: Migook sadam durun bahbodah
Eventually, the plague started dissipating. I'd passed the test - I was a great spy. But after that, I wasn't interested in minor espionage anymore. I spent the rest of the trip as a regular American tourist.
My sister sent me an article a few months after I got back to the States. It said that Asian males are the most ignored demographic in the U.S. We rarely make it on tv or in movies, and forget ever trying to pick up a lady in a bar. They're not interested. Apparently I'd been invisible for years. I didn't even have to take off my pants.
Back Announce: If you look hard enough, you can see Jed Kim riding the subway and helping tourists in New York.