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12 A Little Too Asian and Not Enough White Matthew Noerper Like most adopted Koreans, Matthew grew up in a predominantly white Jewish /Christian suburb. Along with his German American parents, he lives with three adopted Korean sisters and one adopted Korean brother. Two of his siblings are African American adoptees, and he has one adopted Caucasian brother. His two eldest brothers are his parents’ only two biological children. I hesitate to even call myself Asian American. No, I am not an ideologue blindly devoted to the oftentimes suffocating sense of political correctness that seems to have found its way into even the darkest conservative corners. As far as I’m concerned I am 100 percent white—that is, if you ignore my eyes and skin tone. I possess no claim to any sort of traditional Asian or Asian American heritage and history. My grandfather was not an exploited railroad worker who was barred from citizenship and the right to own land due to his race. Nor was my grandmother forced from her home only to live out World War II in guarded camps. Politically and socially I cannot claim that my parents were victims of systematic discrimination—and I cannot say that economic disparities caused by cultural and ethnic barriers have limited my opportunities while growing up. Yet because I was born into this world looking a little too Asian and not enough white I am compelled to check “Asian American” in the race category of all sorts of applications and documents— because society says so. It’s ludicrous, but in the context of an American society in which even the word “race” carries with it scores of politically charged and even emotional implications stemming from primarily sociopolitical ori- gins, race, de‹ned, is usually no more than phenotype. It’s amusing and somewhat disturbing how it is only my face that implies my identi‹cation with Asian America, but over the years it has been only my face that has forced me to appreciate the advantages, drawbacks, and prejudgments that come with having this face. Ironically even in this individualistic democratic society one has less say about who one is than the surrounding masses do. As an adopted Korean I am too ignorant to be legitimately yellow and too realistic to be satis‹ed as just white. I reside in a cream-colored state that quickly becomes a contradiction if I venture too far in either direction. My family strongly in›uenced my early Eurocentric de‹nition of America . While my parents would sometimes take my Korean siblings and me to Korean cultural events and sign us up for tae kwon do lessons, my America was absolutely color-blind. I really had no idea that I was different from 99 percent of my peers or parish, and culturally I wasn’t. I was raised with traditional , conservative, common-sense American values and even speaking with a middle-class light Chicago accent, and Asian America simply did not exist. In fact, various in›uences within my family further distanced me from ever even wanting to identify myself with other Asians. Unfortunately and perhaps naturally, my family made me very aware of their and the rest of America ’s negative perceptions of Asian Americans—which did not even necessarily stem from malicious intent. My mother, who grew up in a very conservative part of America, would oftentimes speak of “ruthless little Korean women” who had the annoying knack of literally running her over in crowded markets, malls, and streets. Her perception of Asian men conjured a picture of sel‹sh, amoral, and sexist jerks—prime examples of guys that she preferred her three adopted Korean daughters not date. Her default perception of Korean business owners (including my tae kwon do masters) depicted them as dishonest con men—as if somehow their business practices and promises were worth less than a Caucasian’s. Perhaps most puzzling to me was my mother’s constant portrayal of Korean women in the context of traditional Korean culture. I relive the times she joked that I should ‹nd some “little submissive Korean housewife who is there to cook, clean, and follow ten paces behind me wherever I go.” Regardless of whether or not there was any truth to the implications of her statements, the ambiguous messages combined with the fact that I am Korean no doubt led to a degree of self-hate. One of my parents’ biological sons does not keep secret his belief...

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