An American Dream
My family immigrated to America after the Korean War. Sometimes called the Forgotten War, the blight and destruction of the Korean War is often forgotten between the Cold War and the Vietnam War. The fighting took place in the 1950s, but the effects of that war can still be felt in 2022.
It is not a stretch to say that Asians are often barred, culturally, from creative careers. Like my family, many of us came to escape war or famine. Our main goal became survival, assimilation. We had no time or interest in pursuing the arts or literature. We did not care for jobs that fulfilled us creatively, or what fulfilled us at all. We were consumed with the need to make ourselves invaluable, and to secure places in careers so we would never again be threatened by the forces we ran from.
One of the most difficult seasons in my journey in the beauty industry was digesting and understanding the opposition I received from my 할머니 (hal-mony), my Grandmother, when it became clear that this was the path I intended to spend the rest of my life pursuing. My 할머니 is the most magnificent person I have ever met. Warm and tender in nature, she spent her entire life working so my family would never have to feel the grasp of hunger or poverty. It was my 할머니 who, interestingly enough, encouraged my love for writing and literature. She would slip me a 5 dollar bill as a child to go and run through the aisles of CVS to buy makeup with. And yet it was she who continuously discouraged me when I would tell her about my ambitions to one day start a company in the beauty industry. “No no, you should be a Pharmacist. If you like makeup so much, Pharmacist would be similar” would be her reply. It ached, the fact she never once encouraged me to follow my passion. I would cry and second guess myself, wondering why it was the dream that made me happiest that she seemed to dislike the most.
That is, until I realized it: she’s scared for me because she has never heard of anyone like us succeeding in this industry. She doesn’t think it’s possible because she has no concrete proof that it can be done. Once I realized that my entire mindset was changed. No longer was I defeated and heartbroken when my 할머니 would combat my dreams. I simply explained to her that I understood why she didn’t want me to venture off onto un-treked paths, and that I was thankful that she cared so deeply for me that she would try and protect me in that way. But I would reassure her that it meant more to me to at least try to live a life of passion than to dwell in what seemed safe. I’m fighting for my chance at my dreams in hopes that it will inspire someone else to brave their own path too. An okay, lukewarm life isn’t the reason 할머니 gave up what seemed safe to travel across the globe in pursuit of better days.
