Why am I political? Because society’s consistent and constant disregard and lack of respect for minorities, even the title ‘minority,’ when in many areas of the country we are in fact the majority, is too much to bear silently. Their insistence at our invisibility, whether it is as subtle as non-inclusion, or as loud as violent hate crimes, is contagious, and can make me hide from myself.
I see evidence of my own racist brainwashing when exploring the political landscape of current foreign policy. I have not been able to make myself think or talk about the situation in North Korea. My avoidance stems from fear that my American-ness, hard won and fought for on a daily basis, might somehow be diminished because of my ethnic association with the perceived ‘enemy’. My family is Korean, and we are defensive about this allegiance. There is great suspicion when referring to North Koreans, as if we must distance ourselves from them as much as possible so as not to disrupt democracy.
Going out of my way to prove that I am an American does not support the idea of being American. I should not have to lessen my interest in what might transpire between North Korea and the US in order to re-establish the image that I have created for myself as a patriot. Also, I want to refute the assumption that being of Korean descent might lend me a particular expertise when expounding upon the political climate there. It is a childish denial, where I stamp my feet and claim ignorance, only because the color of my skin says I am supposed to know. Trying to banish my ties with North Korea doesn’t reinforce stereotypes that I currently do my best to fight, rather it creates new ones. I become the “One who refuses to see the self.” I add to the culture of invisibility by becoming complicit with it.
I am diminished by not seeming to notice that North Korea is there even though my family is from there, even though many of my family still live there, even though my ancestors were literally torn apart by civil war that divided the country while the people were still one. My association is painfully close and avoidance is the only way I know how to retain my American identity. It is ridiculous and embarrassing. I hate feeling this way, because it forces me to see how far racism has affected me. It has gotten into the way that I think, the way I live, the way I feel about myself, the way that I fear that I am being perceived. Not only that, it has gone entirely unnoticed, until the moment that I step outside myself and acknowledge the truth. I am a racist, but it has gone deep underground and warped itself and returned to me utterly unrecognizable.
Prejudice and bigotry rot me from within, and the strains of these viruses are hearty and hard to kill. When I was younger, I would rudely ignore the bright eyed Asian American kids who would stand in the courtyard and hand out sunny yellow flyers, advertising afterschool meetings for the new Asian Student Union. It bothered me that the paper that they used was so undeniably yellow, and that they would single me out of a crowd to give me one, as if the yellowness of my skin was a secret homing device for the flyer. It felt like they were targeting me, because if anyone needed it, I did. I could have used Asian unity more than the other Asian kids who rushed through the same courtyard with me. I think they sensed that, and tried harder to push the paper into my hand. Fortunately, my racist tendencies did not keep me from having great relationships with other Asian kids in my class. We just didn’t have a ‘union.’ There was no need to speak of politics or any desire to change the status quo. If we did, it was entirely unintentional, and part of the daily ritual of being a teen.
My insistence at being ‘apolitical’, as if that were a possibility, did not end when I was young, and could blame it on youthful ignorance. About a decade ago, I was asked to appear on a comedy special which featured political comedians. I declined, stating quite plainly that I was not a political comedian, therefore I didn’t belong on the lineup. I was replaced, and I was relieved. I look back and I think about how wrong I was in my own self assessment. Even though I may not have deft impressions of befuddled politicians in my retinue, that did not make me an ‘apolitical’ entertainer. My very presence as an Asian American woman talking about race and homosexuality was a political statement. I had long regarded the world of political humor as the province of white men that I immediately disqualified myself. I know better now, and it is immensely pleasing when I am referred to as a political comedian, because it feels true. It feels strong.
However, I belie my own strength when I act like North Korea isn’t there, that it doesn’t affect me, that I am exempt from having to comment on it. The problem is that the conflict with North Korea unearths an unbearable conflict within myself. It brings to the forefront my own self hatred, supported by a lifetime of suppression by the world in which I live. Self hatred is a devastatingly difficult habit to break, especially when we are mostly unaware of its presence.
I try everyday to challenge myself further and I believe in doing this, I slay the monster bit by bit. This is why being political is an essential part of my life. In the end, it is all that I have.