Eunice Oh echoed th
e remarkably common sentiment that building a life in America as a first generation Korean is both stressful and occasionally discouraging – both for first generation Koreans and their children. She tells me she sometimes feels embarrassed speaking English but lives and works comfortably in the surprisingly ethnic-mixed community of Los Angeles’s Koreatown. Like most Koreans in the area, she looks to her Christian community for support.
Along the stretch of Olympic Boulevard through Normandie is the heart of Koreatown. It is beating with cultural significance. Many businesses in the area cater specifically to the Korean immigrant community. Placards along tightly concentrated strip malls feature signs in Korean script. Eunice Oh’s bookstore is one of the few shops I visited in English.
She tells me she is happy in Koreatown, “The food is Korean, the clothes are Korean, and the books are in Korean.” She tells me that it is like living in Korea. There is little need in learning English when the community sticks together; though, she tells me she still hopes to improve her English speaking skills. Many Korean immigrants I’ve spoken to feel a strong urge to improve their English while also preserving their cultural roots.
Eunice shows me a book by Oprah Winfrey. All of her books are in Korean. She shows me others – George Bush’s most recent memoirs translated and Barack Obama’s Audacity of Hope. She tells me many American books are translated and shipped to Koreatown. It is a way for Koreans to understand mainstream American culture.
Still, learning the culture can be stressful. Like most of the Koreans I had met, Eunice was a business owner. The trend in opening small businesses becomes a difficult first step for Korean acculturation precisely because the types of businesses available characterize the area as an ethnic enclave – meaning a community that caters specific goods and services primarily to Korean customers. Though this may strengthen ties within the Korean community, it sometimes hinders movement outside of it and into the more globally connected metropolis of Los Angeles’s “Southland”.
This, however, is certainly not the immediate motivation for all Koreans, but rather a broader goal for the community, a broader goal for future generations. Motivations, attitudes, and identities, in fact, differ by generation. Ironically, they are all somewhat uniquely influenced by the greater Los Angeles Area.
Ethnic Enclaves: The Nervous System of a Global City
“If you wake up at a different time and at a different place, could you wake up as a different person?”
*Chuck Palahniuk
Before my visit with Eunice Oh, I stopped for lunch at an old Oaxacan restaurant called Guelaguetza – oddly punctuated within earshot of exclusively Korean shopping centers. To my surprise, there wasn’t a single Korean person in attendance. That isn’t to say it wasn’t busy. It was, in fact, very Hispanic inside.
To be fair, I didn’t see a single Oaxacan person (or even Non-Korean) in any of the small enclave shops I visited. Though ironically, the building of the Guelaguetza looked more aesthetically “Oriental” than its neighboring Korean strip malls. This was not unusual.
Across the street from the Guelaguetza was Wien Bakery – A European themed bread shop. A clerk tells me sweet bread is popular in Korean communities. She tells me many of the products were inspired by European recipes but seldom do they get non-Korean customers.
Occasionally, a sort of cultural cross breeding exists between generally homogenous communities, parcel to large metropolitan cities. Charles Keynejad, Professor of Urban Studies and Planning at California State University Northridge, calls this symptomatic of globalization.
“Globalization in a general sense is the increasing worldwide integration of economic, cultural, political, religious, and social systems.”
In other words, under certain settings, our world views and their accompanying products enter a pool of a global market place – similar in a way to how Eunice learns about American culture through her bookstore. Los Angeles is exactly that setting.
Common functions specific to global cities, he tells me, are freeway networks, shopping centers, universities, large corporations, and centers for entertainment.
All of these things, he says, draw in an enormous labor force from around the
world. All of these things are characteristic for cities like Los Angeles.
Manuel Castells, Professor and Chair of Communication Studies at USC Annenberg, says that Los Angeles is unique for being a “spatial form”. He says it consists of about 10 to 15 cities and towns that are separate entities but interconnected within the larger metropolitan of Los Angeles.
Though they are institutionally separate, he says, they each play a significant role to the work force of Los Angeles’s global features. Each of these places, he says, draws in enormous economical strength through a growing division of labor, mostly of residents who work locally.
The availability of advanced services, he says, is value creating. Large metropolitans such as Los Angeles are globally appealing precisely for their availability of advanced services such as universities and large corporations, and consequently, they are globally appealing for job opportunities and thus, an influx of immigration.
Culturally specific enclaves such as Koreatown are a product of that global demand and are a salient theme to the motivations of many of the Korean immigrants I spoke to. Though, even within the enclave of Koreatown, marginal to the global amenities of Los Angeles itself, no clear boundaries exist beyond the confines of personal ethnocentric attitudes.
If, for example, Eunice Oh wanted to leave Koreatown for Santa Monica she easily could through LA’s network of freeways. If Eunice wanted to move to Silverlake and dress like a “Hipster”, there would be no real physical boundaries to stop her other than transportation and capital.
It is familiarity of langu
age and culture that keeps Eunice in Koreatown. During my interviews, Eunice and others would apologize profusely when they couldn’t think of a word in English. Soojin Park, a first generation Korean, would ask me during our conversations to speak more slowly so she could write down unfamiliar words. Abstract boundaries such as a command of the language and feelings of displacement act as enormous obstacles.
It is simply safer to stay within the Koreatown ethnic community. C.N. Le, Senior lecturer of Sociology from the University of Massachusetts, reports that of all foreign raised Asian ethnic groups, Koreans have the highest self-employment rate at 27.8% compared to the second highest, Taiwanese at 16.6%. He goes on to say that Koreans face “status inconsistencies” causal to eroding self-esteem. Many Korean immigrants, he says, earned college degrees in their home country and held professional jobs before moving to the United States. A common option is to take a safe but lower status job.
This is not to say that future generations of Korean Americans will not branch outside of the boundaries of Koreatown, they of course do, providing the subtle nuances of Korean culture to the global marketplace and consequently, the American experience.
God in the Life of Second Gen. Koreans
“Therefore is the name of it called Babel; because the LORD did there confound the language of all the earth: and from thence did the LORD scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth.”
*Genesis 11:9
My visit to a youth sermon at the well known Oriental Mission Church showed me a view of Korean acculturation directly within the heart of the enclave. In a city where business becomes the global language, the churches of Koreatown become the consummate towers of Babel for the children of Korean first gens – building their identity from the nuances of Western culture and the ideals of their parents.
I first learned of the church by referral from Professor Eunai Shrake of the Asian Studies Department at Cal State Northridge. I knew little about the significance of Christianity to the culture. I wanted to know what Koreans saw in Christianity and why it had become so popular.
A frequent visitor herself, she tells me that Christian churches play a guiding role for Korean immigrants. She tells me Korean Immigrants would see exposure to Western culture through the church, and consequently, one begins to develop some ideas about what it takes to be an American.
Korean immigrants come to the states with a lack of language and a lack of knowledge in the system, she says. They must consider practicalities of living life here, “which area do I have to go to in order to open my business? Which area is safer to live? Which schools do I send my kids to?”
The church, she says, becomes a community center, offering services to newcomers. She tells me, “sometimes they will find apartments for these people; sometimes, they even go to LAX to pick them up even if they don’t know each other.”
A large part of the experience for Korean Americans, she says, is survival, “similar people get together who share their similar culture and languages, and it’s more of a comfort zone.”
It had been years since I’d been to a church service. I got a tip from a shop keep at a nearby corner store about service times for the Oriental Mission Church off of Western Street and some ideas about what to expect.
A small Korean boy I met in the church’s recreation center takes me up the elevator to meet with Youth Pastor, Charlie Kang – a second generation Korean from Culver City. He leads sermons for junior high and high school kids.
“We’re a very special church”, he says. He tells me the main service downstairs fills 950 people through 5 services. He tells me that the Korean adults prefer to hear the sermon in their native language. He says the community feels comfortable because they can feel Korean in an environment where Korean culture is more so pronounced than
the American culture.
Pastor Kang tells me he’s leading a guitar lesson. I sit in on a jam session with him and two boys practicing chord progressions from a church song list. He prefers to work with the kids. He tells me it is a different experience than working with the first generation. The kids are a lot of fun, he says. Many of them play instruments and perform during the church services.
After the sermons, they play covers to popular rock songs. The boys are rowdy and competitive. The girls are shy. Like everyone else, they’re just trying to get through their high school experience. He tells me that besides involving the kids in music, the church provides academic services for SAT preparation.
Pastor Kang tells me a lot of the first generation Koreans come to the United States for their kids. They want to provide a better life for them. They want them to be financially successful. Pastor Kang tells me his services are focused towards valuing balance in their drive to success and their relationship with God.
Many times, he says, the first generation Koreans live their lives vicariously through their children. He tells me the stereotypical question, “why did you get an A- when you should have gotten and A?” is true. He tells me all of their hopes and dreams of coming here, of sacrificing, or working at laundromats or opening up small businesses is all so their kids can get a better education.
“It puts a great deal of stress for junior high students to feel, to worry about SAT’s when you’re a 6th grader.” 
Pastor Kang tells me he’s not so certain God wants everyone to do well if you trade it in for less of him. He tells me often the children are really motivated and they want to do their best for their parents, and yet, he says, the sting of failure is so hard on them that if they fail, they feel like they have to commit suicide; they’re life’s over. It’s that much pressure.
There’s so much cheating, he says. “Their parents just look at the grades. They don’t care about the means in how they get the grades. They trade in so much of their character for what they want their parents to achieve and what they want to achieve for their parents.”
“We have kids who are super good at everything but lack social and moral fiber because they just do what they’re told, and on the opposite side we have these Korean gangsters who just want to rebel and they hate their parents.”
He tells me he doesn’t get a chance to speak with the parents very often but recalls a student whose mother reached out to him for advice on her son who was struggling in school. The student, he tells me, came from a single mother background. “She gave up everything for her son to do well. Her son wasn’t doing well in school, so I talked to the student, and I said ‘you know, you’re mom’s really concerned you’re not doing well in school.’ And he said, ‘There’s so much enormous pressure and guilt that’s given towards me. My mom left everything, and I don’t even know where to begin. How can I ever please her?”
“I told this to the mom” he said.
“You’re kid’s really good, and he thinks highly of you, but he feels too much pressure because you’ve done everything for him.” She began to cry. Pastor Kang tells me the mother didn’t know what effect she was having on her son.
For Koreans under the pressures of a globally competitive city, the drive for success often falls on the shoulders of their children – Whether you place cosmic significance on the existence of a God or not, Christianity has served a role in offering a broadened perspective of life to Koreatown’s second generation.
“Melody” Soojin Park – The Pursuit of Happiness
“We can have no “50-50” allegiance in this country. Either a man is an American and nothing else, or he is not an American at all.”
*Theodore Roosevelt
My eyes widened when Melody Soojin Park told me she was old. “How old are you?” I asked. “I’m 28” she said. In my mind, I would have guessed 23. She tells me she is happy though. In Korea, she says, it’s already too late, “Americans don’t care. I can be 35 years old and I can study. That’s why I like it. In Korea, everything is too fast, too fast paced. They just want new, new, new. They don’t like older people, even smart. They want smart and young.”
Melody brought me a plate of dumplings, “I work three days a week here, and then I work at a sushi restaurant,”
she says. She has lived and worked in Koreatown for 4 years now and tells me she’s comfortable. Korea is too small, she says. She hopes to have a baby with her husband someday and move out of K-town to a larger area of Los Angeles. Until then, she says she is thankful to God for her home and job here.
Melody tells me she doesn’t want a lot of money, “I just want regular happiness living.” I asked her what made her feel alive. She gave me a big smile and said “talking to people!” She likes to read occasionally and tells me that learning a new word really helps her, but it is not the same. It is not the same as talking to people, she says.
She tells me she learned about Jesus in Korea and shortly after, came to the States. “I can’t go to church a lot because I’m tired from working, but every day, I’m always thankful to God because before I said I’m getting old. That’s the truth, but to older people, I’m still young.” It’s about your mind and how you’re thinking she says, “Even if I’m getting more old, people here want to help me.”
I ask Melody what church she goes to. She writes down the name on a bar napkin before handing me the check. She points towards East. The writing is in Korean. She tells me to show it to another Korean, and maybe they can tell me.
I don’t get to practice my English very much, she says. “I have to study, but the problem is, I’m living in K-town. A lot of people are Korean, so they just speak in Korean.” She tells me that Koreans have a really good heart though. “If you can cry, I can cry for you. That is the Korean people.”
Although she misses her family, she tells me she wants her life here. “America is number one” she says. She leans in towards me and asks, “You’re English is really good right? And my English is really bad?” – “But they always say, ‘you can do it, I can do it’. ‘If I can do it, you can do it.’”
Each generation within the enclave seems to experience its own unique moment of sublimation. Melody Park needed to experience a change in attitude to find peace in the States. She’s accepted her place in Koreatown for the time being, but understands that a large part of being an American is attitude.
For many other first generation Koreans, the end that justifies the means falls on the lives of their children. They, themselves, may never fully acculturate, and they may never leave the enclave, but they can instill the hopes and dreams of American opportunity to their second generation. And even still, many first generation Koreans, like Eunice Oh are perfectly happy inhabiting two cultures, even vicariously. We move by the comfort of our own pace.
For the children of those immigrants, many may see their journey deeper into the heart of LA’s competitive global metropolis. Others, like Pastor Charlie Kang, may find their calling in the service of God.
Every one of them is in their own way living the American experience.
