Why I don't like Lee/Park/Choi's variety.

Being an immigrant in Canada means you are (somewhat, if not fully) bilingual but also bi-cultural.  Language is only a small component of the greater cultural language an immigrant needs to speak.  I am no longer Korean, or Canadian.  I am a Korean-Canadian immigrant.   
If you are part of the immigration story, you can’t escape this duality.  
Case in point: your mannerism and way of being will differ, when you are breaking bread with your “f-o-b”(-by) friends versus your white friends.   

I am estranged from the motherland. The Korea I grew up in the 80s, where I shat in a hole has now been replaced by space bidet, that washes and dries the anus clean.  I cannot relate, to say the least.  The plastic surgery, the-pressure-cooking-our-kids-to-perfection, the “Han”, to a government that readily uses its people as a commodity… Korea has a complicated history.  That much I can relate.

Sure, K-pop and Korean bbq are great exports, but underneath all the plastic, and plastic surgery, Koreans are complex.  We struggle under the fog of imperial rule and trauma of war and colonization. I am curious about the everyday man and woman who struggle quietly.  

The Korea of the ordinary.  This is worth learning from, this is of interest to me.
I am unsure if we ever had any respite from all this struggle.  More reason as to why, I believe, the triumph of the every man of the every day matters.  

I am but a witness, an outsider to my homeland. I learn more about my culture from fluent Korean speaking foreigners living in Korea on YouTube. These are rather interesting and strange times.  I am grateful I live in Canada.   A country, albeit not perfect and certainly not absent of racism, painted by Korean BBQ, roti, beef patties and every delicious culture in between.   
As I comfortably sit in Trudeau’s lap, watching Korea from afar, I hope to understand my people better, so I may understand myself more.   

Music: Dreamville by Reaktor; James Chang