The Question: "So where are you from?"

It was early spring of 2011, and I had just started a semester at the Yonsei Foreign Language School in Seoul. Yonsei is located in the northwest quadrant of the city, situated near other major universities like Ewha, Sogang, and Hongik. Founded by Christian missionaries, Yonsei's American lineage is apparent in the various ivy-clad buildings and hedgerow gardens that are diced by narrow pathways. Later in the spring, its hills would be coloured by blooming cherry blossoms.

I was in my second week of school and just happy to have a chance to hang out with people my own age. I couldn't wait to experience the nightlife in the surrounding student hub areas of Sinchon and Hongdae with their proliferation of affordable bars and karaoke rooms. Before, "going out" meant going to see grandma. As much as I love her, it's not quite the same. Anyway, on that day, I was to have lunch with a classmate, a Japanese exchange student named Harumi (not her real name). I hadn't noticed her the first day of class, but it was either on the second or third day that she came in wearing a jumper dress and that was it for me.

As I waited for her in the lobby of her dorm, a stranger approached me. Maybe she was Thai or Filipina. Wherever she was from, she wasn't from around here and she asked me for directions to somewhere. Obviously, I didn't know the answer as I was only barely acquainted with this easternmost side of the university. She apologized and said she assumed that I knew because I seemed "so Korean."

I was then no longer fretting over whether Harumi would interpret our lunch as a date or not, and whether I wanted that or not. Instead, I wondered what made that girl think that I—a guy who had spent 98% of his life overseas—was "so Korean." And not just "Korean;" "SO Korean."

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"Where are you from?"

That's the question that plagues or haunts many Asian Americans.

Even those who've never been asked it in that way (i.e. in a "You couldn't possibly be from this country!" way) are always anticipating the moment that it will come. Some may even have spent hours concocting the perfect comeback to put the imagined Smug Yankee in his or her place.

This conundrum is not unique to Asian Americans. For example, in Jim Jarmusch's Stranger Than Paradise, the protagonist Willie becomes annoyed, even angry, when his grandmother talks to him in Hungarian instead of English. He's initially disdainful of his "FOB" cousin Eva who has come straight outta Budapest. And to him, paprika is the kimchi or Chinese herbal medicine that Asian American kids feel apologetic about when they have friends come over.

But of course, this isn't exactly the same because Asians cannot pass for anything other than Asian, no matter what we wear or how we change our speech and names.

This past weekend, I was having dinner and drinks with some friends of mine (if you guys are reading this: my WONDERFUL and BEAUTIFUL friends!) when we asked ourselves this question. All of us were Korean and American/Canadian to some extent, and our varied answers all reflected those nuances.

There are those who would rather simplify their answers. There are many Asian Americans who adamantly state that they are simply "American" (or "Canadian") and become offended at any perceived association with their ancestral home country. This shouldn't be, though I will admit that there was a time when I'd be satisfied if someone described me as simply "Canadian."

Let's imagine someone with extensive ties to Great Britain. Let's call this imaginary person "Ben." Do you think Ben would insist upon severing any links to his homeland? Naw. Chances are he'd work the British angle every chance he'd get:

Cute Girl: "Nice to meet you, Ben! Where are you from?"

Ben: "Well, I grew up in Boston, but I was born in England. ENG-land. In LON-don."

Cute Girl: "Oh wow! That's so cool!"

Ben: "Oh is it? Let me then regale you with my extensive knowledge of British culture. For example, did you know that we call fries 'chips' there?"

Cute Girl: "So fascinating!"

Ben is a very regal character

Anyway, you get the point. The truth is that not all nationalities are perceived as equal in our society. When people say that they just LOVE accents, what they really mean is that they like a very selective few accents from a very selective few countries in the world. Hint: They're all in Western Europe or its former colonies. 

By attempting to distance yourself from your own heritage—one that you're still closely tied to because chances are that your parents or grandparents are immigrants and you have a lot of family living back in the "motherland"—you're just readily admitting that you belong to a socially undesirable nationality. Look, society already does enough to devalue you. You yourself don't need to join in on hobbling your own knees.

As hard as you may try, you'll probably always get quizzical looks when you answer a call that asked for "all-American." Or maybe you will be the rare one to overcome that initial barrier because there's always room for The Exception. And those in charge will pay what they think is a compliment to you when they say you're so not like the others from your group. Congrats, you've levelled up! Add +2 to social status.

"All-American"

So we won't be "all-American." That can be a good thing. Take advantage of having multiple heritages to draw your identity from! Some people are so lacking in that regard that they're willing to pay lots of dumb money to go on expensive trips to India or Africa to imbue themselves with something other than plain old "American."

Yeah...

As for myself, I never answer this question glibly. I've spent most of my life in Canada, but almost nobody I know lives in the city I was born and raised in anymore (including my family), and I probably won't go back there except as a tourist. I've spent many of my most formative years in the U.S. as a student, but I'm not an American citizen or even a permanent resident. And I strongly identify as Korean because that's where my parents are from, but I've only lived in that country for a total of maybe only 3 years of my life.

Make of that as you will.

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I spent nearly 2 years in Korea and I have lots of memories. Yet still not lost in that clutter is that little moment in the dorm lobby with that foreigner girl who thought I was "so Korean." It still sticks with me vividly. I think it's because for some reason, I was elated over what she had said. There was once a time in my life when I would've been irritated if someone said something like that because I was "from Canada," and any recognition of my Koreanness was a threat to that. But not anymore. Something changed and I wanted to fit more into Korean society. And it was apparently working! Moreover, it wasn't just because I was in Seoul. Even back in America, I find myself ignoring Avicii and True Detective because I'm too busy listening to Korean music and watching K-dramas.

And when Harumi came back down, I had to smile at the thought that I might be the "expert" who'd have to show her around the city.

Dimes Are The Best Coins

There's a cafe near my house that only takes cash, so it often gives me a chance to empty out my piggy bank of coins. We don't use coins a lot these days, and there are lots of arguments that are made to abolishing pennies and even coins altogether. I don't have a stance on either issue, but if we were to eliminate coins, starting with the least to most useful, the dime should be the last one standing.

The dime is so efficient! It's so light and thin, but it's worth a relatively high 10 cents. If you're ever in a need to get a few dollars worth of coins, you'll love how quickly dimes add value. Sure, quarters are worth more, but they're big and bulky and have you ever tried carrying a wallet stuffed with them? You'd better hope that you don't fall into a river because you'll probably sink to the bottom. Say hi to Tony Soprano's enemies for me! And nickels are wildly disproportionate in their size:value ratio. Pennies? Next question.

Not only that, but there are many positive connotations with the word "dime." A "dime" can refer to an assist made in basketball, which happens to be the primary statistic of point guards. Fittingly, my favourite basketball players, like Magic Johnson and Jeremy Lin, also happen to be point guards. And although the following usage of the term is probably objectifying and sexist, a "dime" can also refer to an extremely attractive woman in somewhat dated hip hop lingo. A "dime bag" also means a certain amount of marijuana, which can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on your own appreciation of mind-altering substances. But probably a good thing.

I am still a winter person, I think...

I never doubted that I was a winter person. At least when faced with the ultimatum of living in a place that's too cold or too hot, it was a no-brainer: of course, too cold! Hot weather is horrible. You have to take 4 showers a day just to not feel disgusted in your own skin. Most of your clothes become unwearable and everyone starts becoming very insecure about their bodies. Skin cancer is everywhere.

But perhaps I was guilty of romanticizing wintriness because I grew up in a place where it just plain rained all the time. Getting snow was something of a rare treat. Well, we've had way more snow up here this January and February than in previous years combined, I'm pretty sure. And I think snow fatigue is setting in.

The worst are the mornings because you wake up cold and you know that you have to walk all the way to school. Even if you take the day off and stay in your room, your toes are probably going to be icy as you sit at your desk and feel that draft wrap itself around your ankles. Or you could stay in bed, but then you'll fall asleep and accomplish absolutely nothing. You don't even want to get dressed because you're tired of wearing turtlenecks and scarves. It's like your neck is begging to be liberated from all this scratchy woolliness. But sorry neck, I can't grant you that wish.

When you finally do make your way outside, your whole body tenses up, especially your upper back and neck area. Your muscles are probably going to be sore from all this. Maybe that can substitute the visit to the gym that I was never going to make anyway? If the soundtrack of crunching snow and salt isn't that aurally pleasing, you could listen to music to pass the time. But you better have a good playlist ready because you're probably not going to be taking your phone in and out of your pocket to change songs since your gloves make your hands useless, and taking them off is just inconvenient.

At last, you're at school or wherever you wanted to go! But now, you're overclothed. Those leggings under your jeans that kept your thighs toasty warm now feel like sausage casings defrosting on summer's window sill. Your thick socks and boots mean that your feet will be swampy all day. Your scarf is just one more thing that you're probably going to lose unless you have your head on straight.

Oh but what's this above? It's children having a gay old time sledding down the hills! Let's go join them! But oh wait, I don't have a sled. What's that you say? Wrap a garbage lid in plastic and make one yourself? I'm qualified to do that! Except nobody wants to go with me, not even my roommates. I guess I could go by myself... if I had that irresistible urge to be the saddest sight in a 5 mile radius.

But I'm not just going to hate all day. Winter storms and polar vortexes do have their perks. Like that hot shower in the morning that stops your teeth from chattering. Or snow days that wipe out that terrible Thursday when you have a stack of classes in a row. Or how nice snowflakes look when they're backlit by streetlights outside your window. Or how a few inches of this white stuff can magically become your guilt-free excuse to not go out at night and instead, just read that book you've been shelving for too long or that movie that you've always meant to watch. Now that I think of it, Janus and her wicked stepsisters have probably been a big boon to introverts everywhere.

Yeah, still a winter person.