They say I’m Korean.
They say that’s the heritage
I’m born into. I had no choice in
The matter, like the long line of ancestors
Who came before me and died on that land.
My parents however flew away
Like migrating birds they travelled
From country to country chasing duty and
Other people’s dreams.
I am a result of their long journey that halted in the southern most part of that great southern land.
My ethnicity. My place of birth. My nationality. My place of residence.
They’re all different.
Scattered parts that make up my whole.
I knew Japanese and Mandarin once.
One, would rather swallow pain and offence than have the truth of their sharp edges cut you.
The other, so honest you would know exactly what make and model of truck was coming down the road to run you over.
Like magic I could catch their words in the air and understand their meaning.
There was even a time I spoke Singlish like a local.
But not before my British expat nursery teacher taught us all how to queue.
I’ve swum in cultures different to my family.
Tasted their ideas. Soaked up how they shared love and care so differently.
I now speak my mother-tongue like a foreign language.
Haltingly and with another accent.
They call us code switchers. But I disagree.
Nothing really switches. Honour. Duty. Care. And respect are all the same.
Love and hearts and blood are the same.
We just learn how to share the same truth in different ways.
That’s my heritage. Uncomfortable like nettles but worth every sting.
Sometimes.
Nomad Online 
18 responses to “Heritage”
What a beautiful poem and thoughts too. It’s a shame when people judge by appearance and not life journey.
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Thank you 🙏
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Loved getting to know you better, and in such a lyrical and powerful way, xo
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Thank you Lani! ☺️
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I never really see myself as a mixed race person, Aggie, but I am, and can neither speak my Dad’s native Polish nor my adopted country’s tongue well. Fortunately I have a good handle on the English language and can generally make myself understood. As can you, very beautifully 🤗💗
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Thank you Jo. That intersection between cultures can be tricky to navigate. But there are great blessings there as well. As I’m sure you know already!
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We visited South Korea but couldn’t go into North Korea…I love your heritage and I love wonderful poem. Thanks Anita
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Thank you Anita!
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Poignant. My Japanese is sometimes mistaken for Osaka-ben. For awhile, anyway. Japanese kantang, lah.
Dr. Christine Cheng in the Department of War Studies at King’s College (near you) called them “bubble worlds.” They’re the domains created by the privilege of social accesses granted according to various cultural standards. Language can be part of it… as well as appearance, money, education, faith… But I think it’s really about access to implied meanings, as well as the fear of allowing such access to others who might see the world differently.
Though I realize there’s more to the story, I see what you’re describing here as a rare privilege. It’s a tough film at the boundary of cultural access. Few get to see through the veneer.
安心で
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Bubble worlds… that’s interesting. It doesn’t quite feel like a bubble. More like an amoeba constantly shifting and changing depending on its environment. And you’re right. It is a privilege to be able to see and know people beyond the surface.
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Really lovely poem on heritage. Genetics, birthplace, residence can be different by kilometers. Other people can be confused, but hopefully we know ourselves who we are…
I’m so curious what the neon Korean sign says. Such a beautiful, logical writing system, as a friend from Korea explained to me once.
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Hi Rebecca. It says something like “I’ve prepared things for you. Please wait a moment.”
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Cool and clever message to frame the post,
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As for knowing ourselves, I think I do. Just find myself struggling to find neat answers for everyone else! 😁
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Seems you do 🙂 As for everyone else, I hope they will be considerate and let you tell your story in your own way in your own time. For it is not where we or our parents were born that is central to our role on earth, but who we are right now; our compassion and service to others.
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Preach it sister! Amen 😁
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“Uncomfortable like nettles…” Really powerful poem!
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Thank you 🙏
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