by Jennifer Ryu, Starr King Divinity School Student

The name I was given at birth (Yoo Youngsun) in  Taegu South Korea, 1964, was changed to Jennifer Ryu when I emigrated to the United States 6 years later.  Jennifer—after my mother’s favorite actress at the time, Jennifer Jones.  By the time I became a naturalized US citizen at age 10, I had entirely lost my native language and spoke English with a perfect northwest Ohio accent.  I was an American—I had been successfully assimilated into the collective.  Or so I thought.  Growing into my young adulthood, I realized that that kind of straight line assimilation actually only happens to white-looking immigrants, and the color-blind fiction of my integration into American society began to unravel. 

My awakening to a truer ethnic identity closely parallels my ongoing spiritual awakening.  Parting from my traditional Presbyterian upbringing,  I became a Unitarian Universalist in my late 20’s when I joined the Baltimore UU Church. 

There is an ongoing dialogue/debate in that historic church built in 1817 regarding the huge Tiffany glass mosaic depicting Jesus and his disciples gathered for the Last Supper.   Some are offended by the male, white faces; others by the blatant Christian theme.  And some, like me, just appreciate the way the sun bounces off the bits of colored glass. But that’s what I love about this movement.  There is room for all of us-Pagans and Atheists, Buddhists and Christians, and even that Venusian guy I met at the Toledo UU church. 

It is within this movement where I have met many people who are moving through and operating in those “in-between” places.  “Hypenated” places.  With one foot in one realm and heart and mind in another—all changing and flowing with the shifting winds of circumstance.   It is within the UU faith that I have am continuing to learn how to express my fullness as a human being, trusting that I will not be ridiculed and judged.   And this isn’t to say that I feel totally at home in UU communities—I still get those tedious questions…”where are you from?  Ohio.  No, I mean what are you?”

Religious convictions are easy to hide—you don’t have to reveal your beliefs about the nature of God or the Universe to anyone until you’re good and ready.   But for some of us,  racial identity is a little harder to hide.    As soon as someone sees me, they have some ideas about Korean folks as they flip through their mental rolodex, Margaret Cho TaeKwonDo, Axis of Evil, Hyundai.  But there are some Americans for whom Koreans are an entirely unknown quantity.   China, yeah.. Japan? ok.  But Korea?  No clue.

So as an American of Korean descent, or a 1.5 generation Korean hyphen American, I would like you to know me.  And I realize that with that desire comes a responsibility.  It is my responsibility to speak up, show up and express myself honestly.

I’d like you to know that I come from an extremely homogeneous ancestry; I can trace my family’s clan back a thousand years.  I want you to know the word ”Jung” which refers to an unbreakable bond between humans.  I want you to understand that our society is entrenched in Confucian conventions that elevate men, elders, and the educated class.  And I want you to know that in our collective hearts we carry a deep inconsolable sadness (called Han) that comes from centuries of foreign domination.

I want you to know that members of family participated in the Japanese Resistance movement in the 30’s and later, others went to jail for protesting the military dictatorship in the 70’s.  I want you to know that when my father was 14 years old, he witnessed the brutal shooting of his father during the Korean War.  And that my mother’s oldest sister was killed when an American bomber mistook her office for a North Korean target.   Flowing in my blood is blood that seeks justice; it is the same blood that flows in you--the revolutionaries of this UU movement.

We are one in the struggle for peace; we are one in the voice that cries with the oppressed; we are one in the Love will liberate all beings.