Alumni of NY continues to build our relationship with the Goldfinger Track Club by hosting a AAPI Heritage and Mental Health Awareness Month community run May 28th at 9:00 AM. To get the conversation started we asked a couple of the Asian identifying runners on Goldfinger to talk about their cultural heritage and their mental health.
Q: How do you like celebrating your cultural heritage?
A: FOOD. It's probably the single most impactful thing in my life from time spent with loved ones and friends to how I plan my entire day/week/any travel/anything. I love cooking and eating, but I also love all of the ~magical powers~ of food. Food--Korean food, especially--has the power to connect people, communicate love and comfort so clearly and so powerfully, and share traditions with others.
It's part of Korean culture to basically drown a person in food (or soju). It's how we show we care. My mom and both of my grandmothers are phenomenal cooks, and I truly believe that their food tastes better than anything else in the world--it's not just because they're lowkey culinary geniuses (who don't measure anything and can therefore never share a recipe); their food is infused with their unconditional love. Whenever I'm home, one scoop of rice is never enough--it's always two. I'm always offered second, third, fourth helpings of whatever stews or side dishes they've made. Being stuffed is just me reciprocating their love. On top of showing love for the cooks, eating "well" shows those around you that you're enjoying their company. If there's one thing I love about being Korean, it's that its delicious food brings people together.
Q: Is there anything you wish people would know about your experience as an Asian person?
A: If there's anything that I want people to know about my experience as an Asian American, I want to first preface it with how it's something I've been grappling with my entire life, and it's actually been a source of shame (working through it, y'all!). For a long time, from elementary school to high school, long story short, I was embarrassed of being Korean. I never actually said those words out loud, but I would say it in different ways to my schoolmates and even my family. "Oh, I hate Korean food. Kimchi is so gross." or "I'm a banana--yellow on the outside, but white on the inside." I cringe thinking back on those sentiments and how I thought "whiteness" would catapult me into popularity, or at least to "cool" status. I thought being "the least Korean Korean" out there would make it easier to be accepted, liked, wanted, or at least set me apart from the other goodie two-shoes Korean girls I knew people thought I belonged with (I can go on several rants on the model minority myth). This was never an explicit goal I worked towards, rather an unconscious desire to be like the people I saw on TV, in those freaking Abercrombie ads, or in the circle of kids at my school who were "cool" enough to party. Sometimes it was embarrassing to own up to the fact that I was good at math, science, and piano, even though I was often proud of my own achievements. I struggled with how my Asian/Korean heritage fit into my identity well into high school. Once I went to college, it was like I flipped a switch and went to the other extreme: I hung out with the APPI community almost exclusively, but this time it was because I felt so strongly that I didn't belong with the predominantly white (intimidatingly Greek, party-heavy) culture at my school. The bubble I put myself in didn't feel right either, though, and I didn't know how my being Asian fit into the "real world," which definitely was more diverse. Staying in my Asian bubble only reaffirmed this feeling that I was still the "other," a minority on the fringe of the mainstream, someone exotic, or, even worse, a source of "culture" for those who those who found K-pop or Korean cuisine or K-dramas or Korean skin care trendy.
It's only until I moved to NYC about 7 years ago when I started to really embrace my heritage and all other aspects of my Asian American identity. It's been liberating, to say the least. I've shifted perspective on my Asian Americanness, how I fit in culturally in this city and beyond, and now I can honestly say that I'm so incredibly proud to be Korean American, with the most incredible, hard-working Korean immigrant parents and grandparents, to whom I owe so much. More than anything, though, I love taking a step back and just soaking in the countless other Asian American narratives that are amplified now, seeing how I share (or not share) so many experiences with others. Reading and listening and watching stories from the diverse and oh so beautiful AAPI community is humbling, reassuring, and inspiring. I'm now more comfortable in my own skin, forgiving of my problematic adolescent past, and most importantly, learning every day how to be a better version of myself.
Q: Is there anything that is top of mind when you think about your identity as a Asian person in the New York City run community?
A: I think one thing that I tacitly and constantly acknowledge in the NYC running community is the general absence of Asians in the elite tiers of the sport. I'm so incredibly happy when I think about how inclusive and diverse all of the NYC running crews have become, even in the 7 years I've lived here, but I'd love to see faster AAPI runners (I know you exist!) competing (and winning!) in the many running events in this city.
Q: What has been your mental health journey? (Whatever you wish to share) How has it shaped the way you view your mental wellbeing?
Like anybody else, my mental health has had its ups and downs. When bouncing back from trauma or depression or every day stress, running has been there for me. I've learned that physical health has such a clear link to mental health, and it's not just the endorphins that are released. Running is a way to feel alive when I feel numb. Running is how I remind myself that my physical body is capable and strong, and therefore my mind is too. It's moving meditation--a surefire way to sort through my thoughts and feelings, or a dedicated time to just focus on my breath and put one foot in front of the other. I love how empowering it is to set goals (from a mile to a marathon), put the work in, and then crush your own personal records. There are times when I can't seem to get motivated no matter what I try, or I'm feeling immobile with exhaustion, grief, or fear from yet another existential crisis, but when I eventually get my sneakers on and go out the door, I feel a thousand times better.