Once in elementary school, a classmate asked me where I got my shirt. I said “Korea” and they looked at me with confusion and responded, “Is that a store in the mall?” This kind of experience was more than common for me, it was a daily occurance: being asked where I was from (born in Kansas was never a good enough answer), being bullied about how my eyes looked, or my hair texture, or the color of my skin. If I went somewhere with a friend’s family, people assumed I was their adopted child. It all made for a confusing journey of identity because people around me constantly could not accept who I was as I was. Somehow, my parents always stressed that I should take pride in my Korean heritage so when I was asked to give a presentation to my 6th grade class on Korea, my mom and I happily obliged. We dressed my 2 blonde friends in colorful hanboks, laid out our mother-of-pearl lacquered jewelry box, dolls, and Korean children’s picture books that I was raised with, and even a photo album capturing our last international visit. And I shared my identity. That year I didn’t have anyone else ask me if I was either Chinese or Japanese, or if I knew what “ching chong” meant. I could just be me. I guess this is my tribute this Lunar New Year. A tribute to how I’ve grown, changed, persevered, and become more and more comfortable sharing my identity and celebrating my Korean roots. Today, and everyday 🇰🇷 For anyone else out there who has gone through a similar struggle, I hope this for you too. 새해 복 많이 받으세요 ❤️ #lunarnewyear #lunarnewyear2023 #koreanamerican