2 stories about the time I was hurt and someone unexpected helped me.
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Hey Reader, I wanted to share two stories with you this morning; two gestures I've been turning over in my head the past few days: Story 1. On November 8, 2016, I got dressed, brushed my teeth, put my shoes on, and got into the passenger seat of my boyfriend's car. He said nothing. Maybe the radio was playing? I don't remember. I gazed out the window. Everything looked white, blasted with too much light. The trees bore leaves that appeared dried out. The pavement seemed somehow.... harder. This is a different world than the one I went to sleep in. We pulled into the garage of Anthony's mother's house. She lives in one of those high-rise condo buildings. We drove there every morning to have breakfast together, after which Anthony would drop her off at the bank (where she worked) and me at my office. We took the basement elevator all the way up to her floor, knocked quietly on her door. She answered promptly, as though she'd been waiting for us. She ushered us in. She had a grim expression on her face. A cloud of brown hair hung neatly around her shoulders. She smelled like nice perfume. The kind you get at the department store. Anthony got right to the espresso machine--he was in charge of making mocha lattes for us each morning. I was in charge of "almond butter toast"--the same breakfast we'd been eating, day in and day out, for nearly a year; the one I introduced to Anthony when we decided to go vegan. I pulled a carton of strawberries from the fridge, a banana from a large bowl on the kitchen counter. Anthony's mother went back into her bedroom to finish getting ready for work. I picked four large-ish strawberries that didn't have any visible signs of mold. I washed them and placed them silently on the cutting board right next to the sink. I spotted the small paring knife I always used still drying in the dish rack where I'd placed it the day before. I pulled it out, grabbed a damp strawberry with my other hand. For 20 seconds, the only sound in the kitchen was the thwack, thwack, thwack of the blade hitting the cutting board as I sliced my strawberries. The same way I did every morning. For the same breakfast we ate every morning. Because, it was absolutely critical to establish that this morning...? It was the same as every other morning. Thwack, thwack, thwa-- My shoulders slumped. I let the knife slip out of my fingers. I started weeping. It was like I'd woken up, stranded on some remote island. In a world that had made it very clear that people who looked like me...? They didn't matter--at least not enough. And, I wasn't with my family. I wasn't surrounded by other faces that looked like mine. No one in that house that day could possibly understand why I felt so betrayed. So I sobbed over my strawberries. Arms wrapped around me. Pulled me in. Pressed my head against a shoulder smelling of perfume and soap. "It's going to be ok. It's going to be ok." My mother-in-law is white. But somehow, she managed to rescue me right off that island. And for that, I will never, ever love her enough. Story 2. A couple years ago, a none-too-bright troll commented on one of my posts, "So go back to Korea." Sigh. I knew when I started sharing my stories on The Korean Vegan shortly after that day my mother-in-law rescued me that I would be subjecting myself to these kinds of lovely invitations on a regular basis. At first, yes, they were stinging. But over time, I grew a slightly thicker skin and was able to roll my eyes or laugh it off (well, maybe not that thick a skin). In this particular case, I decided to have a little fun. I posted a video of myself eating a bowl of rice and kimchi, the comment (and its author) featured squarely in the center, BTS crooning in the background. I don't always respond to trolls--if I did, my entire account would be nothing but troll responses and that's not the kind of community I want to create. But, every once in a while, I like to remind people that there are still plenty of folks in the good ole' U.S. of A who don't think that people like me are American... at least, not enough. Predictably (and thankfully), my community (i.e., you) rallied around me. And proved that I have surrounded myself with at least a virtual version of the family I needed so badly that morning with the strawberries. Later that afternoon, around 1 pm, I received a text from my brother-in-law, David. We don't text a lot; ours is not that kind of relationship. And while I know exactly where his politics lie (given the verbal tirades he often launches at the TV), we'd never really talked about heavy things. So, you can imagine my surprise when I read this: "I just wanted to tell you that it takes every single piece of my internal strength to keep quiet and not react to negative racist comments in your interweb comment posts." I just wanted to tell you. Every single piece of my internal strength. I have always wanted an older brother. One who would let me lean when things got hard. It turns out, I'd had one and just didn't know it. Until he told me. Mea Culpa... Last week, I put together a short essay on the Electoral College System (which I hope you found helpful!). It turns out I included a photo of an outdated Electoral College map (thanks to the careful reader who alerted me to this!). You can find an updated photo below: This Week's Recipe Inspo. Aglio e Olio
GIVEAWAY TIME!! In case you missed it or forgot to sign up, make sure you enter the giveaway below! The prizes are AMAZING and I'm throwing a couple signed copies of The Korean Vegan Cookbook into the pot! Enter to win below!
What I'm... Parting Thoughts. Yesterday morning at the breakfast table, I was scrolling through my Instagram feed when I came across this video about two sisters who are Korean adoptees meeting for the first time at Incheon Airport. You can hear the patter of feet as one of the sisters rushes out of the sliding doors that parted in front of her right after getting through customs. And you can hear the barely suppressed sobs of the sister who was waiting for her at arrivals as they embraced. Needless to say, I was wiping away tears in seconds. I must have played that video at least a dozen times since and each time, I can feel tears welling up. Look, you probably already know that I am that girl who used to cry at Folgers commercials or had to quickly change the channel anytime Sarah McLachlan came on the screen. But even I was a little surprised at the intensity of my emotions. Perhaps, like many of you, I'm a little sensitive right now. Despite being emotional, I'm actually not that good at connecting my emotions to my thoughts. Or, put another way, sometimes I'm so exceptionally good at suppressing my thoughts, I don't recognize the emotions that result from them. My therapist used to call this a disconnect between "Emotional Joanne" and "Reasonable Joanne." When the suppression is particularly severe, it can also manifest in physical sensations: migraines, nausea, dizziness, heart palpitations, chest pains, shortness of breath, extreme fatigue. Yesterday, I told Anthony I'd been experiencing all of these the past two days and I was worried I was having a heart attack or coming down with the flu. I then got frustrated with myself (because I'm Joanne), thinking, God get your act together--you're not even running right now and eating chocolate cake for breakfast you have no reason to be tired!! But Anthony, my very logical husband, noted that the Election was obviously taking its toll on me, even if I didn't want to think about it. He rattled off a bunch of other things that might be contributing to above-average stress for me these days. He didn't have a solution. But it was nice, this list he'd put together of all the things that had been weighing down on me so much the past few days, I couldn't even bring myself to acknowledge them. Until he did it for me. This is what it feels like to be seen. And not just by anyone, but by the person you love the most. The person you see the most. I hope those sisters find their mother. I hope they untangle the snarl of emotions that inevitably exists when you know your mother abandoned you. I hope they are not too heartbroken if the story doesn't end the way they want it to. But I know that no matter what happens... It'll be ok. It'll be ok. Because they've found each other. Wishing you all the best,
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