Katie Maurer, 23, a Chinese adoptee, stands in front of the Williamsburg Bridge, March 21, 2021. Photo by Inga Parkel

Katie Maurer

I think when I was younger, [my adoption] didn’t really shape [my identity] as much because I tried to blend in as much as possible. But in some ways, my identity of being Asian grew stronger the more I traveled. Because unfortunately, I have been subjected to verbal harassment and hypersexualization. I’ve come to realize that nobody’s going to ask when they come at me who my family is, what my background is, how I used to identify myself as white with an Asian veneer. So I feel like now it’s ok for me to go back and embrace the Asian side of myself. 

Ilona Kereki, 25, a Chinese adoptee, sits at her desk in Brooklyn, March 28, 2021. Photo by Inga Parkel

Ilona Kereki

I find that when topics like transnational adoption, identity are brought up in casual conversation with other people who aren’t used to it, there’s a clear discomfort, and they clearly can’t manage their discomfort with the information. I’ve also found a recurring theme of “not-enoughness” in my adoption story. But that’s the world’s projection on me, that’s not how I truly feel about myself. I’ve just internalized these ideas of how things “should be.” Whether you think I’m not Chinese enough, whether you think I don’t look like an Asian person. An Asian person can look and behave in a way that you don’t think is traditionally Asian. 

Ben Smith, 27, a Chinese adoptee, sits in his bedroom with a glass of coffee in Brooklyn, April 7, 2021. Photo by Inga Parkel

Ben Smith

Being raised in a nontraditional family, in an LGBTQ family, made me hyper-aware of my differences. Adoption is completely different for every single person. And each adoptee’s experience is completely unique in and of itself. News, and the public, and the media, they like to include adoptees as a blanket group, as a monolith. The reality is, especially with adoptees, that’s just not the case whatsoever. I would love to dispel that false understanding. 

Zoe Arditi, 23, a Chinese adoptee, sits in her bedroom in Manhattan, April 28, 2021. Photo by Inga Parkel

Zoe Arditi

If I ever bring up that I’m adopted or if it ever comes up in a space, people usually shy away and never ask me about it. I feel like growing up, my identity has been silenced because other people feel uncomfortable. How do I even begin to talk about this if nobody wants to talk about it with me? 

Inga Parkel, 23, a Chinese adoptee, sits at her desk in her bedroom in Manhattan, April 15, 2021. Photo by Inga Parkel

Inga Parkel

Growing up, I never wanted to confront my adoptee or Asian identity, but connecting with so many strong and resilient Asian adoptees has provided me a beautiful community of understanding. This time it’s not a community created by and for the adoptive parents, but it’s a community I choose to seek out on my own terms and on my own timeline. 

Joseph Pinney, 26, a Korean adoptee, sits in Central Park in New York City, March 13, 2021. Photo by Inga Parkel

Joseph Pinney

The narratives for adoptees in most media is of “damaged” individuals. As if being adopted is something others should feel bad or sorry for. I think the best word to describe every single adoptee is resilient, the complete opposite of how the adoptee is expressed in most media sources these days with all of the overly emotional reunion videos. Not that those aren’t wonderful, but they’re definitely shown in a particular context and way for the general public to feel a type of way, which is usually translated to how people sometimes get this idea of fragility or “damaged.” When I think it’s the complete opposite.

Tori Smith, 25, a Korean adoptee, sits at her dining room table in Brooklyn, April 11, 2021. Photo by Inga Parkel

Tori Smith

I was surrounded by white people. My friends were white. I wanted to be white too. I didn’t have any Asian role models to look up to, to say Asian features are beautiful. But as I got older, I started seeking out K-pop and seeing people who looked like me and were beautiful. And I began to think maybe my Asian features aren’t so bad.

Xiaoye Jiang, 25, a Chinese adoptee, sits in her bedroom in Brooklyn, March 12, 2021. Photo by Inga Parkel

Xiaoye Jiang

Things like my name, and my age, and where I was born, these are all things I’ve been told and things I have to take at face value as truth, because what else am I going to believe in? I view being adopted as a hard truth, something that’s indisputable that I know about myself. I’ve definitely made that a big part of who I am.

Laura Balcerak, 26, a Chinese adoptee, sits on the stoop of her parent’s apartment building in Brooklyn, March 28, 2021. Photo by Inga Parkel

Laura Balcerak

I don’t know if it’s a misconception or not, but I feel like a lot of people see [adoption] as a purely good thing. It really bugs me when people say, “oh wow, you must be so grateful,” or “it’s such a blessing.” I mean, you’re not wrong. I am grateful, and it is a blessing, but please don’t just disregard everything else. I am lucky. I do think my quality of life is better than in China. But you’re completely blanking over all the struggles, all the hardships. 

Emma Arabia, 25, a Chinese adoptee, sits in front of the Bryant Park fountain in Manhattan, April 9, 2021. Photo by Inga Parkel

Emma Arabia

My identity is something that I can determine. For a long time, it felt like it was something that people would determine for me when they would ask those sort of questions that we [adoptees] all hear. Going through losing my mom has really helped me be more present and sincere, and honest with myself. Things happen to your life that you don’t plan and don’t expect.

Riley Burchell, 28, a Korean adoptee, sits on her couch in Manhattan, May 1, 2021. Photo by Inga Parkel

Riley Burchell

I’ve been insulated from the real and very dangerous aspects of racism in this country, just given the socio-economic nature of my upbringing and my parent’s situation. But since especially graduating college and coming here, for all intents and purposes, I navigate the world the same as any other Asian American and am perceived and interacted with by outside parties in that context– as an Asian American. The way that I internalize it is completely different as an adoptee, but those navigation and interactions are still very much the same. I still get called Chinaman on the street sometimes.

The post Asian Adoptees Reflect on Adoption and Identity appeared first on Pavement Pieces.

Fans crowded for a glimpse of Psy’s first U.S. performance in Rockefeller Plaza at the Today Show. Photo by Alex Jung.

Park Jae-Sang, better known by his stage name Psy, delivered a caffeinated jolt to a crowd of early-rising American fans—some of whom started lining up on Thursday night—with his first U.S. performance of “Gangnam Style” at the Today Show’s summer concert series yesterday morning.

Psy has succeeded where many of his South Korean predecessors have failed: piercing the U.S. market. Since Psy released “Gangnam Style,” he has achieved numerous milestones: over 170 million views on Youtube, a cameo appearance at the VMAs, number one on the iTunes music video chart, and perhaps most importantly, a contract with Scott Samuel “Scooter” Braun, the mastermind behind that other viral sensation, Justin Bieber.

So what exactly are people so excited about?

“I think it’s just a mix of his appearance and his ridiculousness that people love,” said Chaz Kellogg, a 23-year-old who recently moved from Maryland. He woke up at 5 a.m. to see Psy live. “It’s really easy to like and it’s an addictive dance move.”

Psy has already taught the dance, which he himself calls “cheesy,” to Britney Spears and Ellen DeGeneres on The Ellen DeGeneres Show.

That’s how Fran Lamden, 66, from Scottsdale, Ariz., first learned about him.

“He’s that Conga man,” laughed Lamden. “He’s very entertaining.”

Korean pop music, called K-pop for shorthand, regularly dominates music charts across Asia, and most recently has been gaining a foothold in the U.S. For American fans, K-pop offers something different from American pop.

“It’s a nice break from American music,” said Lashauna Campbell, a 20-year-old student at Hunter College. “It’s not all about being in the club and popping bottles and ridiculousness.”

Campbell brought along her mother, Sylvia Davis, 54, who started watching Korean dramas, even ordering the Korean drama cable package, on account of her daughter’s enthusiasm.

“A lot of other ethnicities are into Korean culture,” said Davis. “It’s not vulgar. There’s a message.”

Despite multiple attempts the Korean music industry still hadn’t discovered a way into the American market until Psy.

“I like that it’s Psy and not one of the boy bands,” said Campbell. “Right now it’s all about groups so it’s kind of shocking he’s become this Internet sensation.”

“I think it’s sort of hilarious that Psy is the breakout artist in K-Pop, given how many factory-produced pretty acts have tried and failed,” wrote Frances Cha, Seoul City Editor of CNNGo, in an email. “The outrageousness of his manner and the dance are the keys to his success overseas I think, also the fact that he simply looks funny and apparently that’s the same in every culture.”

Part of Psy’s success may lie in the fact that he didn’t try. Whereas the Wonder Girls made an English version of their Korean hit single, “Nobody” and went on tour with the Jonas Brothers in a concerted effort to drum up popularity in the U.S., Psy only intended his video for Korean audiences, filling his video with references they would understand like party buses, saunas, and cameo appearances by comedians Yoo Jae-Suk and Noh Hong-Chul.

Cher Lim and Irene Na, 27, from Fort Lee, NJ, wear custom-made “Gangnam Style” t-shirts from their boutique, Against All Odds. Photo by Alex Jung

“He doesn’t worry about what other people think,” said Cher Lim, 27, from Fort Lee, New Jersey, speaking in Korean. “He just does his own thing.”

The question many fans are wondering is whether Psy can turn this Internet hit into a viable career stateside.

“He’s got the experience, talent, and energy,” said Omar Mirza, 27, from Midtown who started listening to K-pop a little over a year ago. “With Scooter [Braun] behind him, he can do it.”

“It’ll be on the management,” said Campbell. “Justin Bieber was an Internet sensation too. If people are open to it, I think he could succeed.”

Others, like Cha, are not so sure.

“I think this might be a one-hit wonder that would be terribly difficult to follow up,” wrote Cha.

For now, K-pop fans are enjoying the success of their most unlikely hero.

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A visitor to the New York University Kimmel Center in Manhattan looks at photos April 15 of the aftermath of the March 11 earthquake and tsunami in Japan. Despite historical tensions between Japan and Korea, many U.S. Korean communities have joined fundraising campaigns to help earthquake victims. Photo by Kwanwoo Jun.

Kwanwoo Jun reports on Korean-American campaigns to fund relief efforts:

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After weeks of watching news reports on the earthquake and tsunami that struck Japan, Korean-American Jill Lee turned one of her social networking club gatherings into a fundraiser for survivors.

“I felt really, really wonderful,” Lee said. “It gives you such a moral lift when you have people come together for a cause.”

Lee, 40, of Sunnyside, Queens, is one of many Korean-Americans since last month’s earthquake to put historical tensions aside and launch a fundraising campaign for Japan.

“We can meet and greet but also raise money for Japan,” she wrote to club members in an email message. Thirty-three members, most of whom are Korean-Americans, gathered at a Japanese restaurant in Midtown April 2 for the fundraiser, which brought in more than $700.

Before World War II, Japan colonized Korea for 35 years, banning Koreans from speaking their native language and forcing many to work in Japanese mines and factories.

Tensions still exist today; the countries are locked in a territorial dispute over a chain of rocky islets—called Dokdo in Korea and Takeshima in Japan—and Korea often denounces Japan for approving history textbooks that gloss over the colonization.

But relations between the groups, both in the U.S. and abroad, have shown signs of improvement since the quake. Nearly 350 Korean-American associations in New York and New Jersey have raised $216,000 as of April 8, according to the South Korean Consulate General in New York. In South Korea, T.V. broadcast stations launched separate fundraising programs to lend support.

Seoul’s top diplomat in New York welcomed the Korean community’s fundraising campaign.

“This is a very good occasion to let them understand how much Koreans suffer from the past history, from the Japanese occupation and invasion,” South Korean Consul General to New York Young-mok Kim said, adding the tragedy in Japan is a good opportunity for the countries to make amends.

Charles Armstrong, a history professor at Columbia University and expert in Northeast Asian affairs, said Korea-Japan relations were moving away from hostility.

“The fact that Koreans are now doing so much to help Japan reflects, I think, how far their relations have come in the last few decades,” Armstrong said. “Even though memories of colonial occupation is still bitter and outstanding disputes remain, Koreans are willing to help their neighbor in this time of need.”

The Seoul government also sent 100 rescue workers to Japan three days after the earthquake, making South Korea the first nation to dispatch rescue teams.

“It’s the past,” Lee said. “If you look at the history of all countries, they did someone, some other countries, wrong. Japan is no exception.”

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