I've decided that the best thing to do with they thought in my mind it to write or rather type them out. I've got so much shit just all boggled in my mind that I think of them faster than I can say them. Let's just say that when I think back on my childhood that it wasn't the best of experiences. I truely evny the average "white man" I'm an asian who is put in the middle of a white society. I hate to think about it, but it's not like I can do anything about it. I'm what they call a twinkie. Yellow outside, but white inside. It's kind of a slang they use for people like me. Supposedly people of my kind who live in the US are "G'd up". They all like to go clubbing, they act all cool and tough... really fake in my opinion. They try to be someone who they are really not. Being tough and having "back" is the way they live. It pisses me off.
I look at my sister, and wonder how she's going to handle this experience when she gets to be my age. How she's going to handle being asain in a white society with the kind of parents I have. I think I'll tell you about my childhood. It's very different and quite interesting. Not really good, but not terrible. But it's just so different and to the standards of the average white society, I've been raised poorly, but it was the way I was raised, and I can't do anything about it. I can't do a lot about what happened in my past, because I can't change time. I can't change what my parent's have done or what society has done to me. I can only learn from it and hope that I don't repeat it on my children. One of my biggest dreams in life that I hope to accomplish is to have healthy children who don't experience what I'm going through now. How can I say this... well, I'll try to. My childhood seemed normal up to about 6 years of age for the average Korean child growing up in Korea. My dad had a good job working for a power plant, my mom owned a small cafe right under our mutli-family house. I had many friends in my town. I liked to do all the things a Korean child liked to do. Then I was basically taken out of my own world and society, and forced into a whole new one in which I didn't understand or even knew the language to. It was like starting all over again from scratch. I had to make new friends, learn a new language, and learn new ways of doing things. My dad wanted to move to American because he got the opportunity from my Grandma to study here. She said that she would house us while my dad went to school here. My dad went to Steven's Technical Institute to get a masters degree in computer science. I'm sure it was hard for him because he had a family, but was practially never home because he was on campus studying. I almost never saw my father for 1 1/2 years. almost 2 years of not having or dad or a mom. Just me. My dad was always gone studying, and my mom worked at my Aunt's fish market all day long everyday. I went to a nearby Catholic school. I still remember my first day there. I didn't speak a word of English, and I was so lost in everything that I did. I just tried to imitate what others did, and hope that I wouldn't stand out too much. Since there was nobody home after school, I was put in an after-school program. I stayed there with other kids for several hours until my grandma picked me up. Sometimes, I would be there until it was dark because my grandma was busy. Then when I came back home, I just watched TV because it was the only thing I could do. I would just watch TV until dinner time, and then after dinner, I would watch TV again until my mom came home. And then when she came home, I would watch TV again until I went to sleep. I didn't have anybody to play with and I didn't have too many toys to play with either. I eventually accumulated several, but nothing like other white boys had. I never had a bed. My bed consisted of 2 blankets and a pillow. Actually, I never had a bed of my own up to that point. I slept on the floor next to my parent's bed in their room. Growing up there in my grandma's house and attending that school, I noticed that other kid's parent's were always there to pick them up or said certain things to them, or gave them certain things. Just everyday little things that are typical of a child's life. I never had any of those things. I didn't know why I didn't have them, but wanted them too. I remember going to my first birthday party. It was one of my friends from school. But back then, a kid invited everybody from his class to their birthday parties. It was a new and interesting experience for me. It was another thing I never had. I never really gave deep thought about what was going around me, probably, because I was too young to really understand why things were happening as they were. I wasn't the same as everybody else. I didn't know what other kids did or had. I just lived my life as it was going on. I couldn't do anything about it. I thought that I was living a typical life that everybody else lived. I don't have many memories of my dad during the time I first moved to the US. All I remember is the first morning, and a time we sat down at the dinner table for some reason. That's just about it. No playing at the park, no going to see movies, no playing baseball or any sports, no reading books to me or anything like that. Same thing with my mom. She might have taken me to the part once or twice, but what she could do was very limited because she spoke very little English. She still has problems speaking it to this day. So, it wasn't like my parents could read books to me except for the few Korean ones that I brought with me to the US. Most of those few years were just spent with myself, the TV, and school. It was the same monotonous thing day after day after day, with neither parent to help me out of to take much care of me. Then we moved to Sparta, New Jersey. There's not really much to do there, and we were practially the only asains in the entire town. Before, we lived in Staten Island, were there were many asaians, and my mom had my grandma, and my aunt, and other relatives that lived in the general area. But now we had absolutely nobody. My mom got some kind of disease or sickness. I still don't know what it was, but I remember going to the doctor's office several times with her to get tests, and having to get tests done myself to make sure that I didn't get what my mom got. The reason why my dad moved to Sparta was because he found a job there that didn't need to see his greencard, because we still didn't have one up to that point. We were staying here on a school visa that my dad obtained. So technically we were supposed to return to Korea, but many people who got those visas could apply for a green card legally, and stay here. So that's what my dad did eventually. My dad basically worked like a dog. I left right after breakfast in the morning, and then came back home for dinner, and then went back to work right after dinner, and came back at 12:00 or sometimes even 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning. I never quite understood why he did so up until just a few years ago. My mom went to the local county college to get her college degree. She never finished college in Korea, and she still doesn't have her college degree to this day. She took art classes, and was gone a lot. I remember many instances coming home to be greeted by no one. I was probably around 7 or 8 at that time. I just stayed home and watched TV since I learned to do it so well. When I got tired of TV, I just cried for my mom. I just cried and cried and cried, until she finally came home. My mom would come home and see me cry. Sometimes, I would have cried for hours on end. I can only imagine what she went through seeing me like that. I went to elementary school there from 1st to 4th grade. I wasn't popular, didn't have many friends, and didn't know many things that other white boys and girls knew. I was different from them. Most of the boys were usually in some kind of sport whether it be football, soccer, or baseball. Their fathers took them out on weekends or after school to baseball games, or basketball games, or go do typical American father son stuff with them. I didn't know how to play any sports besides kick-ball which I wasn't good at either. I remember always getting picked last at every sport, always losing, and always being last at everything I did. I saw what other kids did with their parents, how they dressed, what they had, what they brought to school as lunches. Just typical everyday stuff. My parents knew nothing of the sort. I guess they were learning to be new parents, but I was learning much faster than they were. So basically, I started to expect the same things from my parents that other kids got. I never got any of that. My parents knew very little things, like how to play sports, what kinds of clothing to wear, what kinds of food to eat. Even up to this day, my parents tell me to do something when it's normal in Korean culture, but it's absolutely absurd here. It really confuses me because I just want to hit my parents and yell at them for coming up with such stupid ideas. I get so frustrated at my parents sometimes, especially my mom, that I often fight with her. I've even got into the habit of smoking when I get exteremely stressed out. I know it's a disgusting habit, but sometimes it seems like my only escape from what's going around me. Many people just don't understand what I go through. So once again, my dad was never there for me when I needed him, and neither was my mom. My mom was always punishing me for doing things I thought were normal, but things she thought were wrong or absurd. She still sometimes say..."That's what those dirty white kids do... not you." I feel like hitting her when she says that. If there was a way to change my race, I would seriously consider it. I know I wouldn't but I know that I would take that into consideration. I've grown up all my life, especially in my childhood, with other kids calling me a fat chink. They expect me to do some karate stuff and use chopsticks and do other stereotypical stuff like that. They all thought that I was the typical asain that they saw in cartoons or on TV or in the movies. I was just trying to be like one of them. I'd like to stress the word TRYING in the pervious sentence. But trying was basically all I could do. I still remember some kids not liking me in 3rd or 4th grade just because I was Korean. They all said... "wong ching chong" and other stuff like that. They made fun of me and said nasty stuff to me. Of course I got mad, but what could I do about it. I was exteremly shy, and my parents never told me what to do in those kinds of situations. They probably didn't know what to do it about themselves, because they've never experienced the problem of racism up to only a few years before. I was confused about what I should do because I really didn't know what to do. So just accepting it was the only thing I could do. I didn't play any sports because I didn't know how to play any, and so, my social interaction was quite limited. But in the midst of all this, I did make a few friends. We mostly just played nintendo the enitre time we were with each other. I never liked going outside and playing games. I was alwasy reluctant to go outside, up until only a year ago. I like to go out now and do physical activities, but back then, I never liked to because I was mocked by my peers that I was too fat and that I couldn't play with them because I was different. So, I grew up thinking that I couldn't do this or I couldn't do that, or that I wasn't as good as others and that I never will be. All I was to other kids was a chink. Slanty eyes, does karate, eats rice, chink. Nothing more than a chink. A dirty chink. If there isn't a word that I hate more, it has to be chink. I absolutely loathe it with a passion. I hate it when people call me that. I think it's the most disgusting word known to man. When I go through racial attacks that I still experience today, I feel an undescribale anger and rage that you would not believe, but what do I do about it... nothing. I just keep it to myself, until it goes away, but it never completely goes away. never. Then I moved to Roxbury. The same thing that I went throught there, I was going through here as well. I was a minority in the school and town, and nobody knew what I was going through. And my dad was still working all the time, and my mom was working as well. I was still coming home to nobody, but by then, I've grown to accept it as normal. I became very independent at a very early age. With neither parent home and very few friends, and now practically none because I moved to a new town, I learned to cope being by myself. I learned to cook my own food, clean my own clothes, and do everyday stuff that many kids didn't know how to do like I knew to do at that age. There still many times that my mom came home after I went to sleep, and my dad came around 9:00 at night. But as time went by, I just started to get used to my life and made friends, and just lived my life as it was. I coulnd't do anything about it, so why even try? Within the past few years, I've learned that if I want to be like others and do things that they do, that I've got to take matters into my own hands. The hell with expecting stuff from my parents. They've never given me what I've expected. They never did with me the things other kids experienced. I learned that if I want something done, that I've got to do it myself. If I wanted something, I went and got it myself. If I wanted to learn something, I would never ask my parents, but learn it myself. If I wanted help on homework, I tried to solve it myself. I never asked my parents because I knew that if I tried, it would be pointless asking and a total waste of my time. I've gotten to the point where I think that I'm the same as everybody else on the outside. But that's because I can't see myself. If I see a video, with me and a bunch of other white people, it just looks odd. I can't stand watching those kinds of videos because I stand out so much. All I want to do is to assimilate like everybody else. It might sound stragne, but it really is hard to look at myself and to realize that I'm different from everybody else. I try not to think about it, because the more I do, the more upset I get from it. It hurts a lot. I really does. I often feel as if I'm getting shafted in life because I'm asain, that I'm not getting what I would get if I was white. As if I'm not getting my fair share, and that I never will. I feel that if I was white, things would be a lot different right now. And it probably would be. I don't have a doubt in my mind about that. But like I've been saying, what can I do about it. Things with my parents haven't really changed. I still don't ask them about advice. Actually, I almost never do. I see some of my friends talk to their parents about their problems and ask them for help, and I would never consider asking my parents for help or assistance or tell them what's going on. They never ask me what's going on, and if they ever did, I wouldn't tell them anything. This might sound strange to some people, but it's not like my parents helped me much before, so why should I think that they would now. I always pondered why they did what they did. Much of it might be from because they just don't know what they're doing, because they're doing thing according to Korean ways, which are much different as to how things are done here. My dad came here because in the US, if you work hard, you can succeed. It is not that way in Korea, and he was disgusted by it and moved here. I'm sure he never expected much of what happened would have happened. I'm sure he took into consideration the consequences of moving here. He basically sacraficed the family for success. This might sound harsh but when you have to look at this from every angle. He worked like a dog for years, and still does, but his worked paid off exteremly. When he first left Korea, he didn't have a special job. Just a normal pay and normal life, and he would stay that way for the rest of his life no matter how hard he worked or tried. Now he owns a multi-million dollar company. He basically started an entire new life by moving here. He probably knew what he was getting into but not the full extent. In efforts to try hard, I got shafted. I never had a dad who was there for me, and he basically never was in some ways. He never loved me less, but he showed his love in a different way. It was not physical in any way, but he came here to give us a better life. And he has done so. I'm sure he never expected my childhood to be so rough, and I'm sure that he doesn't know a fraction of the things I went through. He says that he did this all for me, but sometimes, I don't understand it myself. He never gave me the time of day, never showed he affection for me physically or by his actions, and he hardly ever talked or saw me for 10 years and counting for me? It sounds absurd, and in a way it is. But then I am eternally grateful to my dad. If it wasn't for him, I would never be here in a land of opportunity and have the financial resources we have now, and be able to go to any college of my choice with money not being an issue. I guess he's trying to make up now for what's he missed. I'm trying to do the same thing myself. I'm trying to make up for my childhood now by myself by trying to have the typical life of a teenager. I'm just trying to be as normal as possible and in some ways it's working, but I know that I"m never going to be the same as everybody else. But even though I can't do anything about some things and never will be able to, I'm trying to compensate for the things I CAN do something about. My future.
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