All posts by Kathy Khang

“…I didn’t do enough…”

I feel the weight of familial guilt, shame and expectations heavily. The older daughter married to a first-born son can’t get away with “I don’t feel like it” or “I can’t fit that into my schedule”. I try. Believe me. I try. But the danger of living a bicultural existence relatively detached on a daily basis from the direct implication of said existence is that I begin to think I am the only one in my family who feels the weight. I may think and experience life a bit differently but most mornings when I rushing out the door to work or to drop the kids off, life is less bicultural and more chaotic.

Anyway, the other day I was on the phone with my mother talking about my grandmother. She is 86 and still lives on her own. As one who has helped care for an aging parent, I was trying to sensitively give my mother advice on how to best care for her mother. About two minutes into the conversation I remembered there really is no culturally sensitive way to give one’s own mother advice (if any of you have figured it out, please let me know…).

Instead I tried to listen, but I was so sad and disturbed at the weight of the guilt my mother carried that I wanted to hang up the phone lest the weight take me down too. My mother was wondering out loud why her own mother is choosing not to move closer to her adult children, and after she had run out of what seemed to be the most logical and legitimate reasons (grandma likes her independence, she doesn’t want to leave her friends, etc,) my mother went “there”.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to move in with me because I didn’t do enough for her. Maybe she doesn’t think I will really take care of her,” mom said.

One of the things I find most difficult about adulthood is navigating the cultural divide with my parents. As a child/teenager/young adult my response was often one of detachment or simple resentment. “They don’t understand” was the path of least mental and emotional resistance. The older I get the more I begin to understand and appreciate that they understand as much as they can given the circumstances. They have spent their lives as parents bending in an attempt to understand America and its culture and trying to bend their lives to fit and be “American” enough for their neighbors, coworkers, children. My guess is that they understand my bicultural journey more than I know.

What I still don’t know is how best to respond when my mother goes “there” with her guilt and expectations.

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1. My two favorite jobs in college were: waitressing at Yesterday’s and being the morning news assistant at WNUA-FM. Waitressing meant a free meal after my shift (PK, KY and IJ also benefitted from this as I would eat at the salad bar and bring home my entree!), and the morning news shift meant sharing in the amazing muffin basket the bakery downstairs sent us every morning.
2. I love meat. When Peter and I go out to eat, he orders the salad and I order the full slab or a piece of cow, cooked medium. When the food comes out they give me the salad. Why?!
3. When I am hungry I get crabby, which is why when waitstaff offer me the salad my husband ordered, I want to lower their tip.
4. I got to ride on a parade float in my hometown’s “Rose Parade”.
5. No, I was not the Roselle “Rose Queen”. Nor was I on her court. I won an essay contest. I can’t remember what the essay was about. I think I was in junior high.
6. In 2007 I got my chance to be a queen and took the stage in a tiara and sash. So what if I bought the tiara. It was a blast, and I look good in sparkles!
7. My favorite hot beverage is a double-shot latte with 2% pulled at home, and poured in my apple green mug from my stint as a queen.
8. My mug almost matches the color of my office walls, which really is the reason I use the mug.
9. After I gave birth to my first child I almost bled to death.
10. As a result of #9, I had emergency surgery during which I overheard my husband chatting with my anesthesiologist. They were talking about fishing.
11. Despite #10, I still love my husband.
12. After I gave birth to my second child in JUNE, my mother and mother-in-law tried to stop me from drinking a cold beverage because they seemed to think the cold juice would make all my teeth fall out. I grabbed that huge pitcher of juice and ice and slurped it down like there was no tomorrow.
13. Despite #12, I still have all of my teeth.
14. I have all of my teeth even though I don’t floss every day. Yes, Peter knows.
15. My shirts are organized by color and sleeve-length.
16. On a regular basis I must ignore the urge to organize my husband’s closet in the same way.
17. I wooed my husband by baking him chocolate chip cheesecakes and watching movies he picked. We both were probably 10 pounds heavier by the time we walked down the aisle…5 1/2 months and several chocolate chip cheesecakes after we first met.
18. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve baked a chocolate chip cheesecake since we got married. We’re both thinner. That’s almost 16 years without baking a chocolate chip cheesecake.
19. Someday I would like to go back to school. My sister thinks I should get a counseling degree, but then I would want to charge her for our daily therapy sessions.
20. I really never thought of myself as being a “strong woman” until 2006.
21. I really never thought of myself as a “loving” person until 1993, 1995, 1999 and 2001. Clearly, I am a work in progress who needs reminders about loving.
22. I once did a spot on impression of Wile E. Coyote running into a mountain. It was on our honeymoon. I was not paying attention to my surroundings and walked full-stride into a steel-encased concrete column on the cruise ship. I remember hearing Peter say, “Honey, watch out for the” followed by a loud “boooinnnnng” as I rammed into the column, forehead-first.
23. As a result of #22, I had the biggest bruise near my brow that “flowed” onto my eyelid. If you look at our honeymoon pictures I am wearing lots of eyeshadow.
24. I once vowed I would run a marathon before turning 30.
25. I have never been very good with numbers.

What in the World?!? Free Makeup and “My People”

I enjoy a good deal. The only thing I enjoy more is a great deal. That being said, I learned the value from my parents. These same parents called me Tuesday night to tell me that they had been to several department stores after dinner to stand in line and claim their one free product per customer (albeit at multiple department stores and at multiple shopping malls). Seriously, they were downright giddy.

The makeup giveaway is part of a class-action lawsuit. The settlement included a mass distribution of high-end cosmetics to customers. No proof of purchase necessary. Just sign your name on a piece of a paper and decide if you want the cream, perfume, mascara, etc.

I figured I would stop by the mall the next morning and get my free makeup if the wait wasn’t long. The wait was short, but what I couldn’t help but notice was the demographics. I would have to guess that 85% were Asian/Asian American (the remaining 15% was mostly Latinos and Europeans based on the conversations going on). I have never seen that many Asians/Asian Americans at that mall in the four years we’ve lived here. Many of them were couples, just like my mom and dad, each getting their free sample.

Initially I did an internal giggle, called up my sister (who happened to be at Macy’s), and told her to pick up some free makeup.

But the line at the second department store was a bit more uncomfortable. There were two lines snaking through the cosmetics and jewelry departments, and one of the women staffing the giveaway table started addressing us in a tone I have often used when my children were younger. She spoke loudly (ok, so there were a lot of people there so I’ll give her that) and deliberately (though when I got closer she chattered much faster with her coworkers).

“Now remember, you can only have one item. Just one. No two. You can only come once. You can’t come tomorrow. It’s not fair. See, we’re having you write your names. We have to collect the names so we’ll have your names. We’ll know you came back.”

Again, I know there are bigger fish to fry. I’m not trying to fry any fish here. It was just one of those uncomfortable moments where I found myself wondering if this woman would have said the same things in the same tone had the crowd not been 85% Asian/Asian American and 15% Latino and Europeans. I found myself wanting my free moisturizer but a bit embarrassed for an unknown reason that I was in the company of “my people”. So what if I came back? On my honor I took my one sample, but seriously did she think she was going to be the voice of conscience or implying something by stressing the fact that they were taking down names?

I should have signed my name Jane Austen or Amy Tan or Michelle Obama. 😉

For those of you wondering about the free makeup, here’s the info. It’s until supplies last so run. My mom and her friends have been working the phones so who knows if there is anything left out here.

The Inauguration Live or a Day at School?

Should I cut the school day short and have the kids come home to watch the inauguration on tv?

During MLK Day, in between the arguments and conversations about legos, Bionicles, Wii and shopping, we talked about Dr. King and his legacy, president-elect Obama and his inauguration, what kind of dog Malia and Sasha might get, and ended the night with the Disney Channel’s concert (Malia and Sasha in the front row busy taking photos and shooting video – too cute and so serious!).

Do they “get it”? I think so. I hope so.

But would pulling them out of school help mark the significance of the day or would the day turn out to be an excuse to miss school?

I know. I’m totally over-thinking this.

Ink in my Veins, and a Tug in my Heart

I paused for just a split second and glanced at the hotel lobby TV – CNN covering the Madoff case. I didn’t even realize my eyes darted towards the glowing screen, but my friend HL did.

“Do you miss it?” he asked.

Many moons ago I was a beat reporter for papers in Green Bay and Milwaukee, covering the mundane (City Council passes ordinance) to the insane (substitute teacher hires student to kill her husband). There was something exciting about being in a newsroom, writing on deadline, deciding which facts to report and which words to use. There was pride in seeing my byline, and there was humility knowing that byline would end up in the recycling bin by the end of the day.

Whenever there are major news events I wonder what it would be like to be back in the newsroom, but lately the ink my veins has run a bit thicker as I’ve thought about my parents. While I currently am in the enviable position of having job security and a job I love, I am not in the position to support my parents. The American Dream is not the one I chased, but the child of immigrants dream still wakes me up in the middle of the day. Prescription drugs, retirement, Medicare, Social Security, subsidized housing,pre-existing conditions, etc. – “Mom. Dad. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you. We’ll take care of the bills,” I say in my dreams, but the words are trapped in a thought bubble hanging over the “journalist” version of me.

But somewhere between 1995 and 1997 the tug in my heart – the tug that longs to honor my parents and follow Jesus – meant shifting gears into ministry to college students. Phrases like “throwing away your college degree” and “it’s not a real job” were thrown about for years. We’re in a much better place now, a better understanding of what I do and why I do it, but the tug in my heart never goes away. 

My parents would say they never expected me or my sister to support them in their older age. But straight out of “Joy Luck Club” they would have to admit that their hope for such a future was and continues to be a powerful force on my life. “No expect. Only hope. Nothing wrong with hope.”

Sometimes I try to ease the the tug and tension between expectations and hope by doing this funny dance with my parents. They watch my kids. I leave money for them to “treat” the kids for dinner. They don’t take the money because they want us to save the money. I try to give them the money by buying them groceries the next time I visit. My mom never turns down groceries.

I suppose the tug is there to remind me that love and honoring and hope take many forms this side of heaven?

Where did I put that 2008?

Sae-hae-bok mahn-ee bah-deh-say-yoh! And, no, I don’t hand out sae-bae dohn to anyone but my own children, but if you are younger than I am you are welcome to bow and wish me well in the new year.

Where in the world did I put last year? The end of 2008 ending in a crash of an unexpected snow day, birthday celebrations (for my daughter and Jesus), family and friends, roles and calling, and met and unmet expectations.

Our holiday celebrations are a delightful, if not complicated, jumble of traditions. Christmas Eve at my sister’s with a gift exchange. My parents come over for breakfast on Christmas morning. This year we spent the afternoon/evening with dear friends K and D – eating, playing Wii, eating, sledding, eating, watching Lost, eating, laughing, talking about family, eating. The day after Christmas is Bethany’s birthday so we have breakfast as a family with candles in whatever she orders (this year it was a french toast “cake”) and then extended family join us for an early dinner. New Year’s Day we head out to my parent’s house where we still observe a more traditional Korean New Year’s – rice cake and dumpling soup and bowing to the elders of the family (my kids, niece and nephews still receive money). Three years ago my mother-in-law died on New Year’s morning so the tradition of marking her death has been woven into our holidays. This year we had a short service at the grave site with a dinner afterwards.

I haven’t written in awhile because I’ve been recovering from the holidays. Family dynamics, cultural traditions, and cold weather compressed into two weeks was intense. And I know I’m not alone. How do you find rest during the rush of the holidays?

I enjoy reading everyone’s holiday updates, but I enjoy more the unexpected visits and phone conversations we were blessed with this break. I enjoy watching the kids open their gifts Christmas morning (“Mom and Dad, we can’t believe you wasted your money on the Wii!” – Corban), but I find their enthusiasm for bowing and receiving money on New Year’s Day touches me deeply as they bless their grandparents and tackle them with hugs and kisses. They expect Christmas morning, but to this day the Korean tradition of New Year’s seems to be a special bonus to them. I enjoy listening to Christmas music (after Thanksgiving), but I am sad when it all stops on the 26th as if the message of Christ and the songs that welcome in the season are no longer relevant the day after.

There was a lot to enjoy, but I was craving rest and restoration. May we all experience peace and rest and restoration this new year.

Feeling at Home at Church

This may sound silly to some, but for others you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.

We’ve been attending “our church” for more than a year now – dipping our toes into church life with worship team (me) and drama team (Peter), getting to know some delightful, God-loving people, learning the traditions of “our church”.

Last Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent, is the traditional children’s music Sunday. The Sunday School children sing with the choir, play the handbells, and present gifts of music to the church. At the start of the service there were a number of children who performed various pieces – piano duets, string trio, violin solo, etc. I haven’t felt that “at home” at church in a long time. Something about seeing a steady stream of kids, some willingly and others under some duress, standing up in front of the church to play their instruments made me and Peter look at each other and smile a knowing smile…

It also created a moment of panic when I realized that none of my children can really play the piano. My daughter had a year or two of lessons, but she quit and picked up the flute at school. Corban just started the coronet (it really does sound like “Jingle Bells” when he plays), and I taught Elias “Mary Had a Little Lamb” because I felt guilty. Not only are my children amazingly average, they have not yet mastered any musical instruments. Something feels so very wrong.

Seriously, though, it was a light-hearted moment for me and Peter, as we have been talking a bit about church, community and culture. Peter asked me if I missed being at a Korean-American or Asian-American church. I answered honestly – yes and no. Being at a majority-culture church we’ve had to ask and wonder new questions that at the surface seem rather stupid or silly, but can add a layer of anxiety and uncertainty that is rather complex and confusing.

“Is this house a shoes on or a shoes off house?”

“When I’m asked to bring food that represents my culture, but not too much of it so I won’t be offended when people don’t like it, how should I respond?”

“What are my kids gaining from being in a majority culture church and what are they losing by not experiencing the AA or KA church subculture?”

And then there is the nagging question…should I force piano lessons on all of them for a few years? 😉

This Sunday, the final Sunday of Advent, our family got to light the fourth candle. It was a wonderful worship experience to practice and then read together the following reading:

We light this candle as a sign of the coming light of Christ. Advent is a season of hope. The first word of hope was restoration. The second word was peace, and the third was joy. The fourth word is love. ‘I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever. He will be great and will be called the son of the Most High. The LORD God will give Him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; His kingdom will never end.

As our kids read and Peter lit the fourth candle I felt very much at home, worshipping with our church.

Working Mom Angst – Asian American style

Honestly, I haven’t thought this through. I don’t know how or if my culture has impacted the way I experience working mom angst…I’ve been sitting at my desk trying to get through e-mails, file expense reports, start and finish a prayer letter and listen for the dryer to finish when I realized I forgot to go to school to see my daughter’s gym class dance performance.

Now, before I am absolved of any guilt for not taking 15-minutes out of my work day to run over to the middle school by justifying my absence with the simple fact that my daughter is in MIDDLE SCHOOL and seeing her mother armed with a video camera AND a 35-mm waving from the bleachers isn’t her idea of fun,  I can’t shake the fact that she handed me the note from the teacher inviting parents to view the performance.

My daughter is practicing her “Mom, puhlease” look of slight disdain, embarrassment and awkward separation from her parents. But she gave the me the note and asked if I was going to a meeting or working from home. She still likes me.

I have the blessing, and I really do mean blessing, of a home office and the flexibility to the administrative portion of my job within earshot of my washer and dryer and steps from my espresso maker. My mother (and most of the world) can’t imagine an easier balancing act.

So maybe here is where the Asian American guilt and shame and sorrow (and the swallowing of it all) come into play. In a mere 15 seconds I am wrestling with all of it – wishing I could support my parents, wishing I was actually SuperMom who could remember to run over to the middle school (God, help me remember I’m supposed to be at the grade school at 12:30 to be the reading parent!), wondering if my daughter noticed my absence and wasn’t relieved but sad, hoping that my mistake doesn’t make my parents sad that I don’t take advantage of the luxuries of time that they didn’t have.

Please, I can’t be the only slightly neurotic Asian American working mom, right?

Blog designs, searches and tag – you’re it

I have yet to get the hang of this blogging thing. I’ve been told that writing posts in advance is one way to keep things moving along. Note to self.

Blog designs: Some of you blog or read more blogs than I do. Any suggestions on a new design? I want to go with a design that archives monthly and has more on the side that helps me and others see things in an orderly fashion. And it has to look pretty.

Searches: So reading your blogs stats can be a funny thing. I can see what search word combination folks used and ended up at my blog. The funniest and slightly disturbing one: “Kathy Khang sex talk”. I was back at Wheaton to do a bit of Q/A at the invite of the sophomore class, and they presented me with the event publicity poster. Black background in red letters: The Sex Talk Lady is Coming Back! Too bad I can’t put it up on the wall in my office yet. Maybe in a few years.

For those of you who blog, what was is the funniest or slightly disturbing search that has lead someone to your blog?

Tag: How do tags and categories help? Will it all make more sense when I switch designs?

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