There were many people
I befriended in middle school, some of whom I no longer associate myself with.
There was a time, however, when I was in a very odd stage of losing my
heritage. I only listened to western music (meaning pop, hip-hop, R&B,
rock, etc.) and never even considered listening to Korean music whatsoever. I
scoffed at those who had just come from Korea; we called them FOB’s (fresh off
the boat) and teased them endlessly. I had become so attached to Canadian
culture that I lost my Korean heritage. I rarely spoke Korean at home, only to
my parents, and let’s face it: who speaks to their parents for more than five
minutes when you’re thirteen? It was evident that my literacy in Korean was
slowly fading away. This was not known to me at the time, but it did eventually
dawn on me that I wrote my thoughts down on paper, in English. I needed an
improvement, but I had no Korean friends apart from a few who I was not very
close to at the time. I did not have a large interest in their group of Korean
friends that seemed to be laughing at things I found highly idiotic. I was a
snob to those who spoke my first language and had no interest in my culture.
My non-Korean friends,
which consisted of 95% of the friends I had, laughed at the Korean FOB’s with
me and we had a grand time being exclusive. We had the world at our feet and we
were going through puberty – we were invincible. I had a lot of trouble with my
parents at home because I rarely came out of my room and tended to blast “loud
and disgusting music” they could not bear listening to. My brothers always
walked into my room and read my very
personal journals and made fun of me, took things without asking, and made my
life a living hell. My older brother tended to have a revolution against my dad
from time to time, and my younger brother followed without questioning his reason.
I suffered in the middle because I had no reason to rebel against my dad. Sure,
we had our differences, but I was willing to accept that and move forward with
my life. It wasn’t a rare occasion my dad would become extremely sensitive
about our behaviour (some could even say he was irritated by our presence at times)
and throw a rather violent temper tantrum. He was quite the dramatic male and
my brothers and I were constant victims of the release of his frustration at
the world. But it had become common, and if anything, his anger management
issues were decreasing with each year.
