(Book) Aloha, My Mothers
This past weekend, I felt tired and depressed from this quarantine so I decided to read something light. Although it is rare that I read in Korean, or fiction, or for fun, I ended up choosing the Korean novel, “Aloha, My Mothers” by keum-e Lee. This book ended up bringing me to tears. It opened my heart to a profound ancestral energy that I did not know I had before. It is only two generations ago that Korea went through such a challenging time; of course I am affected but perhaps have ignored it because it is painful to remember.
The story is about the unfolding lives of three young Korean women who left Korea and got paper married off to Hawaii in 1910. If you know anything about Korean history, the 1910s were a sad period. We were colonized by Japan in 1910 after years of war. Then there was the Korean independence movement which led to our independence in 1945. With this historical backdrop, the story illustrates the struggles, dramas, and dreams of the first generation of Korean immigrants in Hawaii.
Many of the dialogues in the book reminded me of the three generations of women in my own family: my maternal grandmother, my mother and I. Just to name a few examples, similar to the main character’s mother in the book, my grandmother did not invest in educating her daughters. So my mom, just like the main character, was determined to provide her daughter with the best education possible. I still remember that whenever I was studying all night, my mom would stay up next to me just so that I wouldn’t feel lonely.
The way that the main character’s mother clumsily expressed her love towards her daughter reminded me of the way my grandmother expressed her love to me, which felt equally distant and cold with few words. The idea of gender equality and direct, affectionate ways of expressing feelings is only becoming a norm in my generation. Yet, the young version of myself blamed my grandmother for not loving me. My heart aches as I think of how naive and immature I was and how much pain this may have caused in my grandmother.
< Picture of my mom, grandmother, myself from the left; October 21, 2010
This coronavirus pandemic situation has radically shifted my perspective on jobs and allowed me to truly respect unsung heroes. My heros are the farmers who continue to farm fresh produce, the chefs who prepare food deliveries at restaurants, the store associates who stock groceries, and the drivers who deliver goods. These roles are the fundamental connecting tissue of our society today. My livelihood would be at risk if they ceased to exist. In the meantime, if the jobs I used to fancy, such as hedge fund analyst, private equity investor or CEO, disappear, I can’t even tell how they are creating value in this world we live in now. Growing up, I remember being embarrassed that my grandmother was from a farming family. But with this newfound appreciation for all jobs, I am so proud of my grandmother’s family heritage. Her family was deeply connected with the earth and they put in honest effort and the land reciprocated and provided for the family and more. Many of the characters in the book are farmers. That is how they survived during that time period just as my grandmother’s family did. Their honesty and resilience is incredibly inspiring, resonating, and familiar to me because that was what I saw in my grandmother and in my mother growing up.
My tears were about a newfound connection with my own family’s heritage and roots. As I left my family for boarding school at a young age, I have not had an opportunity to understand my own ancestors in Korea. This book helped me trace my memories and put pieces together so I could see them as humans who just struggled to survive in the middle of the war. They didn’t know better and did their best within the means they had access to. With this understanding, I am humbled and grateful for all my ancestors who fought so hard for their existence, for their national identity and for their families. It is because of their sweat and tears that I am here today.
The land in Korea where my family used to farm
