Editor’s note: Granite Hills High School senior Jungwha “Sophia” Park recently won a San Bernardino County Superintendent of Schools contest for an essay she wrote. Park was one of many eligible English Language Learners in San Bernardino County to compete in the essay contest.
She read her essay at the 26th Annual Multilingual Recognition Award Dinner in early May. The following is her essay, reprinted in full.
By Jungwha ‘Sophia’ Park
For the Apple Valley Review
“Genji-genji-geng-geng!”
As countless ears took in these sounds, thousands of eyes scanned us raptly. Not me, but us — a huge throng of Korean-American students proudly marching down Colorado Boulevard. What we had was enough to capture everyone’s attention: pounding beats tinged with tinny crashes, eclectic instruments and colorful costumes. We created an enchanting spectacle, and as we marched in front of a diverse crowd of millions of viewers not only from U.S. but other countries, we were uniqueness itself.
Born and raised in a small town in Korea, I never understood what it was like to live in an ethnically diverse place. Even after immigrating to the U.S., my family only got involved in the Korean community, so I never had the chance to become immersed in American culture. I had American friends at school, but there was a hidden barrier that somehow kept me apart from them. I was one of very few Asian students, and the only one with a thick accent. Consequently, I felt as if I had shattered wings. I locked myself in an Eastern cage, refusing to believe that I could be rehabilitated — that I could ever truly belong.
I needed a distraction — something to help me forget my frustration at being relegated to constantly being a misfit. Samulnori-Korean traditional drumming and dancing-became that distraction. But before I realized it, I was mesmerized by the craft’s powerful sounds and harmonious instruments. I threw myself into practices and performances, not necessarily to help my troupe introduce Korean culture to others, but to help myself. However, my somewhat selfish thought did not last very long.
During the 10 months of practicing for the Pasadena Tournament of Roses with 180 other Korean-American students, I felt that I finally fit into something bigger than my woes. Because I was the captain and the oldest one of the troupe, a lot of the members came to me for advices and helps. Working with 180 teenagers was not an easy experience, but I learned to be responsible, caring and patient. My job did not end there though because many of them were born in U.S., so they were weak at speaking Korean. I tried to talk to them in Korean as much as possible because as much as spreading our Korean culture to the world is important, teaching them to be true Koreans had to come first. I felt satisfied as I watched our band get better and better at performing every week, and even more satisfied as I watched them improve their Korean. I became their teacher and the guardian of the day, and eventually a friend for life. The wall of isolation was finally tumbling down. My wings were beginning to heal — but there was still a void.
On the day of the parade, we saw hundreds of other teams getting ready to perform routines displaying different cultures: American, Chinese, Japanese, EI Salvadorian. The mariachi band, high school bands from all over the world, the horse tricks, different kinds of floats — they represented living cultures that did not, surprisingly, emphasize differences but unified everyone on Colorado Boulevard together as world citizens. As we were marching down the most famous street in the world side-by-side with these groups, I could vividly reminisce about the last 10 months of practice and realized that I was part of a group embracing not just Korean culture, but those of other nations as well. I knew that I fit into something bigger than the cage I had built.
I was able to soar when I realized the beauty of life with other cultures and languages. On the day of the parade, I distinctly understood that my classmates and neighbors did not ostracize me. I was the one who was too timid and uncertain, so afraid of my self-perceived differences that I shut myself away. After that day, when I began to try, I was finally free to soar. I now proudly share myself and my culture with others and am open to theirs as well. I am not ashamed of my thick accent, and I am not scared to ask others the meaning of a word.
And I have found that life is much sweeter outside of the cage.