My Korean Mother Doesn’t Understand My American Success
She sacrificed to give me a better life, but it’s not the one she expected
“Omma, do you know who Oprah Winfrey is?” I asked my mom one day as we sat in her kitchen. In front of us were bowls filled with rice, fried fish, and various Korean side dishes. “You know, the Black lady who used to have a talk show on TV?”
It took my immigrant mom a moment to recognize the name of one of the most well-known women in America, but she did. “Well,” I continued, “I wrote a story for her magazine this month.” I stared at my mom’s face, waiting for her response.
She glanced back at me, opening her mouth a couple of times as if to say something, but no words came out. After using her chopsticks to maneuver some kimchi out of a jar, she finally asked me if I wanted more rice.
As a child, success was easy to define by my Korean mom’s standards: All I had to do was perform well in school.
With a sigh, I said no and looked down at the bowl in front of me. Unfazed, my mom started telling me about the annoying customers at the gas station where she’s worked for almost 20 years.
