Who am I as a Korean American?
It’s a question that followed me for most of my life. Growing up as a Korean American in America, I never fully fit into one world or the other. I often felt too Korean to be American—and too American to be Korean. Moving between two cultures was a constant part of my life, and I never felt completely at home in either.
This is my personal story of growing up caught between two worlds and learning to embrace my identity.
Feeling Out of Place as a Korean American Child
Growing up Korean American in the U.S. meant feeling different almost every day. At school, my life never quite looked like the lives of the kids around me.
While my classmates talked about turkey dinners and Christmas trees, my family gathered around tables filled with kimchi, rice, and homemade Korean dishes. I loved those meals at home, but explaining them at school only made me feel more out of place.
Even little things—like the smell of my lunch, the sound of my name, or the way my parents spoke—became daily reminders that I didn’t fully belong. Being Korean American often felt like carrying a part of myself that nobody else could really understand.
Looking back, I realize those early moments shaped my view of life as a Korean American. They planted a question deep inside me: Who am I, and where do I truly belong?
Trying to Fit In as Korean American
Growing up in America often felt like a constant effort to blend in. I wanted so badly to be like everyone else, even if it meant hiding parts of who I was.
At school, I asked my mom to pack sandwiches instead of Korean food, just to avoid the stares and whispers at lunchtime. Most people didn’t even know where Korea was, and explaining my background only made me feel more different.
Being Korean American often felt like something I had to apologize for, even though I didn’t fully understand why.
The pressure to fit in didn’t end with childhood. During my college years, when I became a U.S. citizen, I legally changed my first name to an American one, hoping it would help me feel more accepted.
I thought that if I could sound more American, maybe I would finally belong.
Looking back, I realize how much of myself I was trying to erase just to be seen. Trying to fit in as a Korean American was exhausting.
No matter what I did, I always felt a little out of place—never quite American enough, but slowly losing touch with being Korean too.
Too Korean at School, Too American at Home
Life as a Korean American often felt like living between two sets of expectations that didn’t match. At school, I was reminded daily that I was different. At home, I was expected to live by traditions that didn’t always fit the world I was growing up in.
Speaking English too much at home would earn me disapproving looks. Struggling with Korean customs made me feel like I was disappointing my family. In their eyes, I was becoming too American.
At the same time, my life outside of home made it clear that I wasn’t “American enough” either. Every small difference—whether it was the way I looked or the way I spoke—felt like a spotlight on how I didn’t quite belong.
Being Korean American meant constantly adjusting who I was depending on where I stood. But no matter where I was, it always felt like I wasn’t fully enough for either side.
Finding Strength in My Life as a Korean American
For a long time, I hated my life as a Korean American. I hated the parts of my identity that made me different, the parts that set me apart from everyone else. But as I got older, my perspective slowly began to change.
I started realizing that being different wasn’t something to hide—it was something to be proud of. Life didn’t have to be about choosing between Korean and American. It could be about embracing both parts of myself without apology.
The things that once made me feel isolated—my culture, my family’s traditions, even the struggles—became the things that gave me strength.
They shaped how I see the world, how I live, and how I connect with others.
Reconnecting with My Korean Heritage
As I grew more confident in my life as a Korean American, I found myself wanting to reconnect with the parts of my culture I once pushed away.
At first, it felt unfamiliar. But over time, wearing a hanbok, speaking Korean with my parents, and celebrating traditions started to mean something different. They no longer felt like obligations. Instead, they became moments of pride, connection, and gratitude.
One of my favorite memories is sitting next to my parents, dressed in traditional hanbok. In that moment, I felt a deep sense of belonging—not just to my family, but to the rich heritage that shaped me.
Looking back, I realize that life as a Korean American isn’t about choosing one culture over the other. Rather, it’s about honoring both and finding pride in carrying them with me.
What It Means to Be Korean American Today
Today, life as a Korean American feels completely different from how it did when I was growing up. For the first time, I no longer feel the need to explain who I am or apologize for where I come from.
Instead, I carry both cultures proudly. I appreciate the richness of my Korean roots and the opportunities that growing up in America gave me. Both parts shaped my story, and both are equally important to who I am today.
Of course, there are still moments when I feel caught between two worlds. However, those moments no longer define me. They remind me that my life as a Korean American is unique—and that being different is something to celebrate, not hide.
After all these years, I’ve learned that identity isn’t about fitting perfectly into one world. It’s about embracing every part of the journey that brought me here.
Embracing Both Sides of My Identity
Who am I as a Korean American? It’s a question that once filled me with confusion and doubt. For so many years, I believed I had to choose—either fully Korean or fully American—to find my place in life.
Now, I see it differently. Life as a Korean American means embracing both cultures with pride, even when it doesn’t fit neatly into a box. It means carrying two histories, two perspectives, and two sets of values that together make me whole.
Although the journey wasn’t always easy, I’m grateful for every part of it. Without the struggles, I wouldn’t have found the strength to live fully and authentically as myself.
In the end, being Korean American isn’t about choosing sides—it’s about owning my story, every beautiful, complicated part of it.
