[제 2회 드림에세이 수상작] Lisa Kwon - 'A Gold Medal for Two Countries'

Grade: 12 / High School: Chadwick School

Men’s gymnastics absolutely enthralled me at thirteen years old. Therefore, when the summer Olympics came to Athens in 2004, I put my everyday activities on hold. I squirmed in my seat during the still rings, watching the grimaces of the men translate into strength and focus; I enjoyed the hollow sound of calloused hands hitting the surface of the pommel horse as the gymnasts swung themselves around so effortlessly; and I jumped and hollered as United States athlete Paul Hamm raised a fist of sheer satisfaction into the air upon delivering his gold medal-winning performance.

The next morning, headlines of the previous night’s controversy hit all across the media: South Korean Yang Tae Young was cheated out of the gold medal position when the judges miscalculated his starting value. Upon hearing that their country was robbed of the recognition, my parents fumed over these inane errors. They concurred that Hamm was obligated to hand the medal over to its “rightful” owner. Meanwhile, I sat silently, not understanding why the medal could not go to the two people – the two countries – who did so well.

Since the 2004 Olympics, I have adopted my parents’ pride in their country. Every morning at the breakfast table, my father reminds me that South Korea is a rising power among democratic nations, formidable in the presence of technology, athletics, and entertainment. Of course, I had learned these facts for myself during all the years my mother had driven me to Korean school on Saturday mornings to learn the language and appreciate the history and culture that would otherwise be overshadowed by ubiquitous American influences the other six days of the week. After all, there is that other side of me that has been cultured by this country from the moment I was born. For the past 13 years of my life, I have attended schools that are predominantly Americanized. My parents and I speak English at home, and I spend my weekend nights with Caucasian friends, watching reality shows on MTV and reading celebrity gossip magazines over hamburgers and milkshakes.

As a teenager, I have begun to see the clashes between the cultures that define two different parts of me. I greet my parents in a very formal manner when I return from school, but a high-five would suffice for most of my friends’ parents. I hear my mother’s soap operas from the living room while I am in my bedroom listening to the rugged Bruce Springsteen croon about the land of the free, the home of the brave. My father is constantly telling me to speak their language and represent my Korean background everywhere I go, yet my peers revel in the American pop culture and slang. Often the two sides of my upbringing cannot shine through simultaneously because they are on the extreme ends of a spectrum.

However, I am distinctive as a Korean living in America. I embrace having two nationalities, two identities. The most beautiful part of being a Korean-American is that I understand two completely different cultures, from its humor down to its customs of respect. This understanding has become patience and appreciation for both nationalities. Being Korean-American has certainly helped me to become an open-minded individual and to value each side for its influence on my overall personality and ethics. In my personal universe, I am representing two wonderful countries by practicing their languages, traditions, and ideologies. I am on my own medal podium, capable of sharing this golden spot with both my identities.