As physically unthreatening as my mother is, her verbal artillery is quite intimidating.
After threatening to send me back to Asia if I limited myself to befriending only Koreans, I became so fixated on being diverse that I shied away from my own people.
Once I arrived at UCLA, however, my mother’s ominous precautions kicked in as I scanned the diverse – yet segregated – student body.
Groups of Asians huddled together, whites bunched in one direction, Latinos walked in their own groups, and black students clustered in another direction.
“How come people don’t try and diversify?” Evan Shulman, a third-year cognitive science student, remembered asking when he first arrived at UCLA.
There’s no doubt that negativity arises when people of similar cultural identities and nationalities congregate – especially when it becomes exclusive.
But as I began to form more friendships with Koreans and joined a Korean traditional music group on campus, I realized that congregating into respective cultures is not such a bad thing after all.
It develops and preserves cultural identity and allows people to cope with challenges specific to their culture.
But I realized how less Korean I was compared to others when I joined the organization. I didn’t integrate Korean vocabulary into my everyday language, and I didn’t know how to crack Korean jokes. Did this make me a terrible Korean, out of touch with my roots, or was this a testament to my integration into American society?
And the eternal question of “Am I more Korean or American? How do I become both – as a Korean American?” kept easing into my head.
Finding this balance between one’s native culture while living in the U.S. provides motivation to congregate with people of the same ethnicity.
“(Having) a group of friends in native tongue helps me maintain my ethnic background,” said Kan Pang, a third-year international economics student and activities director for the Chinese Student Association.
Third-year biochemistry student Ruben Ordaz stays in touch with his roots through the Latin American Student Association, where he participates in merengue dancing and gets updates on Latin music and TV shows.
He says it is easier to talk about these topics with other Latinos than with people who do not share his heritage.
Prior to joining LASA and befriending Latinos, “I wasn’t aware of what my culture had to offer,” Ordaz said.
Besides preserving and developing cultural identity, people of similar cultures can relate to common difficulties more immediately.
Shulman remembered trying to help an Asian friend deal with parents pressuring her to pursue science.
He indicated that it was difficult to fathom the situation since he had never felt that from his own parents. He reasoned that his friend could have received more helpful advice from friends of her ethnicity who would have experienced similar circumstances.
Though Shulman questioned the lack of diversity when he first arrived at UCLA, “I understand why people have groups now,” he said.
Asian American studies lecturer Daniel Lee couldn’t agree more. “If you talk to people with similar experiences, much less explanations are necessary,” he said.
Lee also emphasized how “one of the purposes of college education is to interact with people of different backgrounds and values. You’re not getting as much educational experience by limiting social interaction.”
That had been my mantra growing up. Only diversity can foster true tolerance and personal growth.
However, contributing to diversity also requires knowing your own culture. If people didn’t congregate to share and solidify their cultures, we would be ignorant of our own identities, and a diverse world would be nonexistent. And while new and open experiences are exciting, it’s also nice to come back to something familiar.
I realized how much I had forgotten Korea – the culture, the people. I was reminded of this during a talk with my Korean friend Hyelim Oh, a student at Palomar College.
“And you know that feeling, walking along Dongdaemun on a crisp night, eating a warm boong-a-ppang, people packed to your left and right, and you just feel so happy? I can’t explain it – but you know,” she said.
She was right: No explanations were necessary. And at that moment, I knew that as much as I am American, I had been Korean all along.
If you know what a red-bean fish cake tastes like, e-mail Yoo at jyoo@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments to viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.