KOREAN-AMERICAN VOICES: Emily K’s Story

Children watching a parade in Seoul, late 1980s
Photo by George McCarten

Students crossing the street in Seoul, early 1990s
Photo by George McCarten

By Emily Kidder

Growing up as a half Korean, half white, American in Korea and Japan during the 80s and 90s, and now living in the U.S., has been quite a journey. It's been a mix of navigating different identities and cultures, which has shaped my understanding of belonging.

Growing Up in Korea

Back in the late 80s and early 90s, Seoul was buzzing with change. The country was moving from military rule to democracy, and student protests were everywhere. I remember riding the bus to Seoul Foreign School, and my eyes would sting from the tear gas used on protesters. Even though I spoke some Korean with my mother and extended family and lived in Seoul (albeit in US embassy housing), I felt like an outsider. Being half white and half Korean made me stand out even more and at times I felt like a foreigner in my own city. 

Moving to Japan

High School Girls in Shibuyu, 1998

When my family moved to Japan in the early 90s, at first I felt even more like an outsider. Japan and Korea have a complicated history. I attended the American School in Japan, which helped me find a community, but at times the subtle discrimination reminded me that I wasn’t fully accepted—neither fully Korean nor Japanese.

Coming to the U.S.

In 2001, I moved to the U.S. for college, which was my first experience living in the country, even though I was American. My identity shifted again. Here, I was just "Asian," which was both freeing and isolating. There was less overt exclusion, but I still didn’t fit the American mold. I tried to adapt, but always felt caught between cultures. I remember my mom once shipped kimchee to the college mailroom, and the employees were concerned some sort of biohazard had come to campus! Being half white and half Korean sometimes made it easier to blend in, but I still felt the tension of my mixed heritage.

Over time, I started embracing my hybrid identity. The rise of K-pop, Korean food, and Korean cinema in the U.S. gave me a new sense of pride. I realized I didn’t have to choose between being American and being Korean; I could be both.

Reflections in 2025

Now, in 2025, I look back and see how each phase of my life shaped me. Growing up in Korea and Japan taught me what it means to be caught between cultures.  Living in the U.S., especially in New York City, has allowed me to embrace that fluidity. I am both Korean and American, but also more than that—a product of globalization, shaped by multiple places, histories, and experiences. My identity isn’t fixed; it’s a process that evolves with every new chapter.

Being Korean American is uniquely beautiful because it allows for a blend of rich cultural traditions and modern influences. It's different from being solely Korean because it involves navigating and integrating two distinct cultural identities. The Korean-American community is special because it celebrates both heritage and innovation. I want my kids to feel enriched by their cultural heritage. Through their Korean Saturday preschool, they attended a Chuseok celebration, and it was amazing to see all the cultural representation in the room—from Lebanon to London, South Korea to South America. Korean-American can mean many, many things. It was a beautiful reminder of how diverse and interconnected our world is and how our heritage can be a source of pride and connection.

Children in Hanbok during a celebration / Shutterstock