reality, check.

finding my birth mother is the ultimate reality check.

i don't know how to describe it. it's a strange sensation.

it is a stage to my life, a new peak to my journey. there is a kind of peace, a clarity. i stop, to take a long deep breath. from this vantage point i can see it all, the past 28.5 years. it is a long, hard view.

i can see what i've survived. i can see all the paths i've walked, all the skins i've shed.

i am reminded of what it is to be an orphan. the things that people raised by their birth families just can't understand.

truly, i was on this path before i found her. but there is a connection. i started searching over three years ago. this summer the wait (weight) became unbearable. it was so consuming, not knowing anything. i had gone through my local agency (Love the Children), KAS and directly to ESWS. nothing. i had to accept that i might never find anything. that until someone at KAS or ESWS picked my name out of a hat, i might never know.

this summer, following my birthday, my body suddenly put itself on Korea time. this lasted for months. at first it wasn't every day, but then it became permanent. i tried every herbal remedy to get to sleep - nothing helped for more than a night. most not at all. finally i tried not sleeping to force myself to sleep at night - my body still refused and i started sleeping every other day. for a month.

so i guess that is where it began.

somewhere between that, accepting that i might never find my birth mother and deciding to return to Korea (and realizing that my Saturn return was quite literally, upon me), a kind of clarity began to set in.

i was in an abusive relationship for five years. i've been able to do a lot of work about healing from the emotional and sexual trauma, but one of the most triggering parts of our relationship is that i don't know where he is, i haven't heard from him in over six years. i used to be so afraid, especially when flying to visit my family (we grew up in the same town). i would spend the entire flight figuring out exactly what to say if i saw him. i was afraid of what he would say to me. i was afraid he would break me down again. blame me again. i knew that he would break me. i could feel it. i was so afraid.

and sometimes, he would just fill my head, and i'd find myself scouring the internet for any trace of his whereabouts. stalking the facebook pages of friends of friends, using multiple search queries on multiple search engines, quickly scrolling past his college tennis photos, feeling tiny and breakable.

one night, as i felt that familiar panic set in, and found myself about to open up all my usual search boxes to look for my ex. time seemed to slow down, my brain, slowed down. i realized that i didn't need to go down that road. it had never happened like that before, where i'd been able to start the obsessing before it happened. but something inside me said that it wasn't worth the trouble, that i didn't need to know.

and just a few nights ago, riding the bus, i saw someone who looked just like him. i see people i think might be him often. but they always turn around or the angle changes and i see that they look nothing like him. but this person really looked like them. i immediately texted my boo. i want to stay it was instinct, but i don't know if i've ever texted them about that before. whatever it was, the feeling of worry subsided quickly.

later i texted my bestie about it. like a bogart, my ex had magically transformed into something non-threatening, something that could be flicked off my shoulder or kicked out a window. i was amazed to realize that i wasn't afraid of him any more. i don't want to say that finding my birth mom makes me feel invincible - far from it. but this is a time of cleansing, a time of shifting perspective. as i look out over everything that i have overcome in my life, and prepare to take a step into the next, unknown chapter, this is something i can let go.

more than that, i can trust myself. i can trust my experience, my heart, my head. i am standing on solid ground. i am more sure of myself than i've ever been.

every day is something new. ten somethings. constant shifting.

the first four days and my life will never be the same

i shed my first real tear today. i got a little misty on tuesday, reading all the responses to my fb updates about finding my birth mother. i was holding someone else's 5-month old infant, strapped onto me in a carrier. she cried most of the day. she missed her mother.

my eyes got wet on wednesday evening when a reunited adoptee offered to meet for coffee and talk. she told me about her reunion, and hearing her story it began to set in. the earth shattering life altering absolutely wild incomprehensible sum total of what had just happened, what was about to just happen.

today, during the intake for a physical medicine appointment i told my doctor about my search. i told him i wanted to tell him because it was in my body but i wasn't ready to talk about it. i guess i ended up talking a bit, enough, to shed a tear. a real tear. i did not blink it back or stifle it, i let it run down my cheek. just one. the first.

on tuesday morning i got the email. it was early - i didn't have to be to work until 10 but i had to get up at 7 to take my thyroid medication, and then i could eat and shower and get ready for the hour-long commute to my nanny job. so 7 am. i had a tooth extracted the day before, my jaw was stiff and sore and my mouth still tasted of blood. i looked at my phone, as i do every morning, bleary eyed, to check my emails.

mostly it's Joann's coupons and store newsletters, but sometimes there is something worthwhile.

i saw i had an email from KAS. because of the magic of mail preview, this is what it said:

KAS

Re: Birth Family Search Request

Dear ---x---. Hello, this is Sara Yun from Korea Adoption Services. First...

i read those words and recoiled. it sounded like bad news. or at least, more of no news. i had accepted that i might not ever get an answer to my searching. i didn't really think this could be The Email. whatever it was - it was 7am and i was going to have a long week and i was not ready to read it.

after about 5 minutes, i said to myself "you ridiculous human being, what are you doing, OPEN THE FUCKING EMAIL," and so i did.

and --that-- is the moment my life changed forever.

i'm scared. i'm terrified. i'm excited. i'm feeling everything that it is possible to feel, i think, and probably a few more things. this is truly standing on the edge of the unknown. and i know, i KNOW, that whatever comes next will fuck with my heart in ways i can't even begin to anticipate. nothing will protect me from what this process will do to me. as an adoptee - nothing has been easy. nothing has been painless. but i have survived it.

and so, what choice do i have but to take a deep breath and step into the abyss.

when i started my search, i did it because i didn't want to live my life not having searched. i was only 25 but had recently met adoptees older and younger than me who done their searches only to find their mothers had already passed. this possibility had never really entered into my consciousness, and i realized that i could wait around until i was "ready" (and really, when are you ever "ready" for this?) or  do it before i ran out of chances.

i emailed my local agency on August 23, 2010 to start my search.

four days later, i sent this email to my close queer adoptee friend:

"i have started my birth family search. that's about all i have to say on the subject at the moment. they said it could take a while. but. opening."

i'm trying hard not to have expectations. i am trying to go forward with an open head and open heart for whatever may come. i'm not looking for this to "fix" me - i don't feel broken anymore.

the waiting is the worst. first, three years, countless emails, to get to here. and now, waiting again. for the next step. knowing that people who don't want me to know my birth mother are the ones in control.

whenever i get a new email i feel like i'm going to throw up. and when it isn't ESWS, when it isn't me being one.step.closer to knowing my mother's name, my heart hurts.

here i am. day four and my life will never be the same.

괜찮아요.

I received this email yesterday morning as I was getting ready to go to work.

I'm not ready to write about this, but here it is.

-----

Dear --x--,

Hello, this is Sara Yun from Korea Adoption Services.

First of all, I am really really sorry about this late reply.

KAS has had the busiest season of the year. I am really sorry.

There was a miscommunication with ESWS, so a blank created from the time of your request to now.

I am really sorry that I have not perceived it.

KAS succeeded in locating your birth mother as of Sep.5th.

And ESWS help us to contact your birth mother via telegram.

She has not responded to it for a while.

I talked with a person at ESWS today.

She  informed me of such a great news.

Your birth mother contacted ESWS recently.

Your birth mother is very wondering how you have been and willing to exchange letters with you.

However, there is one thing that we should be careful.

She has a family now, but none of her family members know that she has delivered a baby in the past.

Therefore, she has a fear of being diclosed to her current family.

I really hope that you could understand her current situation before you started contacting her. 

ESWS suggested me that they are willing to help connect between you and your birth mother.

Therefore, I would like to know how you think of the suggestion from the ESWS.

If you are OK with it, can I give them your e-mail address?

Please, let me know your thoughts.

Please, also do not hesitate to e-mail me if you have any questions or you need help.

I definitely willing to help you as much as I can.

I am sorry about my lateness again.

I am looking forward to hearing from you soon.

Thank you for your understanding and patience.

Sincerely,

Sara Yun.

투쟁: language, miles, returns, stories

view from Seoul Tower, 2009

i'm going to Korea next year.

i don't know when, or how, or in what capacity, but i am going back.

my saturn return is approaching, and i have been feeling it since the summer. all signs point towards this being the time, the right time, for me. i feel compelled to go, i feel i *have* to go.

i will post A LOT more in the coming months about this journey, my reasons, my feelings, my fears and hopes and plans and all of that. today, i'm going to start with a brief history of knowing and knowledge and language and distance and shame. language study is my number one goal for this journey, and all the heartache and struggle that comes with it.

my first trip home was in 2009. i dropped out of my language class on the third day. i wasn't ready. i'd only been in the country for a week, my body was still jet-lagged, my mind was still overflowing and overwhelmed. i felt shame every time the teacher corrected my pronunciation. i was afraid to even start my homework for fear of what it would mean for me to not succeed.

back in college, i took one East Asian studies class. it was called "Gender, Modernity and Social Change in Korea". the whole thing is kind of a blur. there were Asiaphile white boys and let-me-show-you-photos-from-my-trip-to-India white girls. so many fucked up, racist, misogynist and transphobic things got said on a regular basis, and there were only three of us who actually pushed back. but i remember so vividly the shame i felt at not knowing anything about Korea or Korean history. i remember how these white people shamed me for not knowing the history of my own country. for not knowing as much as them.

and there are so many really deep and valid reasons for why I never read Bruce Cummings' book. but i couldn't shake that shame. the same shame i felt when a stranger at the airport started talking to me about Korean ondol heating and exclaimed "you don't know your own history?" at me when i didn't know what that was.

when i was younger, feeling all this difference on my face and body and hair and history (or lack thereof) and getting "ching chonged" on the playground and people always asking "is she with you" when i was at the grocery store with my mom and avoiding other Asian kids like the plague because separately we could survive, we could dodge the slurs, we had a chance of being something better, more acceptable than each other.

when i was young like this, wounds i couldn't name until a few years ago just barely beneath the surface, when the people who claimed to love me looked just like the ones who taunted me, when my mother dismissed racism as "ignorance", when i was force-fed feeling grateful and elementary school teachers publicly interrogated me about the circumstances of my birth and abandonment past the point of tears, this is when i first learned to be afraid of Korea.

i was told that Korea hated girls, and hated me because i was the child of an unmarried mother, that she had worn a girdle for her entire pregnancy to hide me, that i was her shame, but that she had given me up for a better life in america, that i had no identity in Korea, but here -

i learned to run from my reality of my country. my dark hair, my slanted eyes, my taste for spicy food - these things made me exotic. exotic was good. white people liked exotic. exotic was my pass. if i bent to their will, if i played into the sexual fantasies of every white boy and man; if i let white women ooh and ahhh over my hair, my tan; if i played diverse background dressing in the promotional photos of my private school - that was the way to survive. 

but to know any truth, to imagine myself as a part of Korea and Korean history, was too risky, too painful.

my mother bought me an elaborately rhinestoned American flag pin when i was naturalized. i wore it every Memorial Day, every 4th of July, well into high school. photos of me dressed in red, white, blue and that pin, were taken every year.

my mother always gushed about how beautiful the color red looked against my black hair.

standing in World Cup Park, 2009

i didn't know how to be Korean. i didn't know where to start. i didn't even know that i could.

one of my brother's best friends was Korean. his mother would bring me gifts from her yearly trip to the homeland, but also told my mother that i must never search, must never return. she gave me the film "Daughter of Danang" and told me point blank that real Koreans would hate me.

these are the things that make distance greater than miles and years and language.

i don't know if i can say i'm not afraid anymore. but i'm ready. 

i've set out to learn Korean many times before. but i never committed to it. the characters fell out of my head, they could not find purchase in my brain. i was too afraid of failing, too afraid i had no business learning. 

but all that has changed. little by little, bit by bit, i have found the strength. i have found the need to learn. i can hold the alphabet in my head, heart and hands, my tongue can force out fits and starts of foreign native tongue.

i want to go to Korea and learn. i want to be surrounded by the sounds of this most beautiful language, that makes my heart race and leaves me breathless, a strange and primal memory.

it is time to shed this skin of shame. it is time to write my own story with a diasporic hand.

i am going back, to learn, to live. 

i'm still afraid, but i'm ready.

stories about hair (part 1 of 1000000)

summer 2001 - growing out my home bleach job

summer 2008. first time using buzzers.

(inspired by this post from the wonderful mightyfemme)

fat, queer, korean, adopted, nonbinary
there is a lot to say about hair.
here are bits and pieces. there are many more to come.

---

beautiful, silky, shiny, lustrous, exotic...

i heard these words constantly from my mother, and every time i go to the salon. it's a place called Place Vendome, full of upscale perfume, magazines about dieting and older rich white ladies getting unstylish blowouts. i started going there after attempting to cut my own bangs at age 8. my mom went there for twenty years and admits she never got a good haircut from Lisa, her stylist.

this is not unexpected, considering that Lisa told me that i could never cut my hair above my shoulders because my face was too round. 

i was 11. just gotten my first period. growing out my bangs. i was vulnerable, impressionable.

these are things that stay with you.

---

a stranger once berated me for the size of my cheeks when i was young enough to use a stroller but old enough to remember every word.

---

my third grade i was 100 pounds. Tommy Gianis, scrawny, shrill-voiced elementary school bully, took every opportunity to call me a fat whale.

i took every opportunity to kick him in the testicles.

---

my hair was the only thing anyone ever said was beautiful about me.

even then, it wasn't that my hair was beautiful, it was that Asian hair was so beautiful.

---

for years i grew my hair out long. people would always ask me if i was going to do locks of love. in fifth grade i went in to cut it off but could only get about 18 inches. Lisa wouldn't cut it any shorter because of my fat face.

in middle school i began to want ultra-short hair because i thought that was how you were gay.

 but Lisa's words (and the advice of every teen/beauty magazine ever) kept me from it.

---

but your hair is so beautiful. why would you want to do that?
i'd never do that if i had hair like yours.

my mom took me to Place Vendome to get red chunks put into my hair. they gave me teeny tiny auburn highlights instead.

i begged my mom to let me dye my whole head but she refused. i accused her of being concerned with how it would reflect on her with the other parents at my fancy Catholic private school. she screamed and denied it.

less than a year later, after dropping out of that school because of a bullying-induced mental breakdown (and switching to public school), my older brother bleached and dyed my whole head manic panic purple haze.

---

i didn't cut my hair above my shoulders until i was 18. at this time, i was emaciated, back down to my elementary school 100 pounds, because of a particularly toxic cocktail of psychiatric meds wreaking havoc on my system.

i was still so afraid of my round face. so round, in fact, that strangers still felt compelled to comment on it upon meeting me.

i was at an event offering free haircuts, but you had to wait your turn. i sat for an hour, flipping anxiously through short hairstyle magazines. i finally found a short, choppy hairstyle on an Asian model. i had always attributed my round face to being Asian (since every other difference people continuously commented on was related to by being Asian) and seeing that hair on an Asian face was comforting. i resolved to finally get the short hair i'd always wanted. but when it came to my turn i wimped out, just told her to give me a slight trim.

a person who had been sitting next to me stood up, pointing to the hairstyle magazine i had been looking through.

"no," they said. "they want this one."

---

it doesn't end there. it only begins again. it gets more complicated. but here is a beginning. here is a place to start.

"orphan stories no. 27489" on Interrupt

A little while ago I had this article published on Interrupt Magazine for their issue on race. One of the prompts was "I first realized I was x race when..." and I wrote about my experience as a transracial adoptee. Check it out here: orphan stories no. 27489

MAKING 만두: a memoir

homemade mandu frying in a pan

I.

in college, my first korean adoptee friend told me the story of being a part of one of the special events for Asian American prospective students. she said they all sat around and talked about how their mothers made dumplings. her mother didn't make dumplings.

II.

my mother did. in elementary school we made mandu for my brownie troop. i wore my hanbok and we got coolers full of green tea from the local chinese restaurant. we earned some kind of cultural badge. there were three kids of color in my entire elementary school class, including me.

III.

i learned how to make 만두 (stuffed dumplings) at Korean culture camp. i started going in first grade, i think. each age group had a different color t-shirt. first graders wore white.

the camp was run by white adoptive parents. they set the curriculum, and hired Korean Americans to help teach the classes. the camp was open to Korean adoptees and their white adoptive siblings. we rotated between different stations: music, folktales, language, brush painting, tae kwon do, fan dancing, music, games and art.

my first memory is from the art station. we made ourselves passports. 

IV.

my favorite part was always tae kwon do. every year kids would lay on the floor in a row for other campers to do flying side kicks over and break boards during the final show for parents. i was never asked to do the flying side kicks because i was fat. 

V.

back to the dumplings.

after you hit 6th grade, you were expected to help out with the younger campers instead of being one yourself. one of our duties as unpaid camp helpers was to help prepare all of the food for the end of week banquet. this included making thousands of mandu. i'm kind of an overachiever, a perfectionist, a closer. i was especially so back then. so while others would kinda cower at sticking their hands into raw egg and meat, i dove into it, striving to make the most dumplings and the most perfect dumplings and do to it faster and better than everyone else. so that is how i learned to make 만두.

VI. 

after high school i summered working for a caterer. one year we had to make 300+ empanadas for an event. the other workers were having trouble filling them and folding them. i stepped in and it all came flooding back to me. i personally filled and folded all 300 of them.

VII.

i became a vegetarian in 6th grade but i always made an exception for the food at the culture camp banquet. years later i started making veggie 만두 that were delicious and flavorful. in college i couldn't buy dumpling skins so i made the dough by hand. these dumplings were chewy and rustic. during my summer in Seoul i made dumplings with kimchi from the hasookjip where i was staying, although i ventured out to a vegetarian restaurant weekly for 만두.

VIII. 

now i have to eat mostly gluten-free for medical reasons. this year, for my birthday, my partner and my bestie tried to make me gluten free 만두. the dough was a struggle, and they couldn't fill them properly. once i started helping they turned out better, but i conclude that i can make a gluten exception for dumplings.

IX. 

also ramyeon.

X. 

last week, i made 만두 again for some friends who were coming over for dinner. it felt so right, my hands and heart moved without thinking. i filled and folded each one effortlessly. it felt like only minutes had passed and i made over 50. my partner lovingly fried them on three sides, golden brown, 맛있어요. it felt like home. warm. sweet. full.

my mother never taught me how to make dumplings. turns out, i didn't need a recipe after all.

thinking about fatness and Korean culture

An article came across my news feed today about singer IU saying that she really hates it when people tell her she's gained weight, and in a moment of weakness, I read the comments.

The thing is, Korea absolutely does have some seriously wrong ideas about acceptable body size. But a lot of the way it gets talked about by Western (and often white) folks is really fucked up. Whenever I read critiques of Korea's sizeist culture, the implication is that Korea is "backwards" and needs to "evolve" to be more like America/the West. I'm not sure where these folks get the idea that America is not fatphobic, or that progress equals being like America, but these sorts of critiques always leave a foul taste in my mouth.

In my own experience the most vocal folks critiquing Korean fatphobia are Western raised Koreans and white people critiquing who would not typically be classified as "fat" by American standards. They are indignant that they have been/would be considered "fat" by Koreans, and that influences their idea that Koreans are backwards or primitive. They see Korea as being more virulently fatphobic than America because here they experience size privilege. Comments like "How could you possibly call her fat?"  or "Koreans need to get a life" don't actually destigmatize fatness. In calling for Korea to be more like America they completely ignore the toxically fatphobic culture of America AND the oppressive influence of American culture in Korea.

It's not that I think it's okay for Korean culture to be so fatphobic. I don't. BUT I also understand that as someone outside of the culture, it really isn't my place to judge or try and force my (Western privileged) beliefs onto a culture I am not a part of. As a foreigner with no language ability, I receive highly filtered information. There is so much I do not understand - cannot understand. I do my best, and take a generous view on things. I believe that there is resistance to fatphobia in Korea  that I cannot see. I am not some special snowflake who invented the idea of body positivity.

This attitude is separate from my reality as a fat-by-any-standard Korean. As an adoptee, my desire to be "authentically Korean" has always contributed to my body image issues. How could I be Korean when I was so fat? Koreans aren't fat. I will never be beautiful by that standard. I will never be Korean by that standard.

When I made my first trip home in 2009 I was terrified that I would be met by fatphobia at every turn. Other adoptees who had visited told me horror stories. But that was not my experience at all. What I experienced riding the Metro was a deep sense of comfort at being surrounded by Korean faces. I'd never been "the norm" before, and despite all the ways in which I was different (tattoos, short hair, different fashion, and fat) I felt like I belonged.

So there's that.

The other thing is that Koreans are blunt. They will say things to your face that Americans never would, but these sorts of comments aren't viewed as rude or insulting. So there's that, too.

My mind is full. I have no answers, just scattered thoughts.

FLOWER BOY DIY: "This Love" Style Wrap Bracelet

please excuse the Halloween decorations in the background :)

Shinhwa's "This Love" is one of my favorite K-pop songs and music videos of all time. I love the visual style, the fashion, the dance and the song is wonderfully danceable. Everyone looks smokin' hot, too!

The fashion of "This Love" inspires me in lots of ways (sexy vests! fitted satin pants!) and one of those ways is to wear more bracelets. In partciular, Lee Minwoo and Shin Hyesung had some really awesome bracelets on during their performances and in the music video. 

So when I saw these gunmetal pyramid stud beads for 40% off at Michael's today, I bought them out.

I paired them with black waxed cotton cord and a really awesome skull button to make this sexy bracelet. 

I only needed two packages to make a bracelet that wrapped around my wrist three times. 

I'm not sure what I'm going to do with the other packages, but I'm really pleased! I think I'm going to make a couple others with silver and black crystals. 

Happy Birthday Lee Donghae

Happy Birthday 이동해!

Donghae is easily my favorite member of Super Junior. I love his sweet voice, his earnest eyebrows, his shy smile and his amazing dancing. Happy birthday to this Mokpo cutie!

GROWING HOME: Sesame Leaf (깻잎)

SoSim, 2009

깻잎 is magic. There's really no other way to describe it. The flavor is so unique and the leaves are beautifully heart shaped with purple undersides. Also known as sesame leaf or perilla, kkaenip is a distinctly Korean flavor. I first tasted it in Seoul as part of a spread of vegetarian banchan at a restaurant called SoSim (now closed, I believe). I had no idea what it was at the time - but once I figured it out I tracked down some seeds and started growing it in my garden. 

baby kkaenip (top) and hot pepper plants

Kkaenip is extremely easy to grow! Because my current apartment does not have a yard I'm currently growing indoors. The plants grow fast and have given us a bountiful harvest of delicious leaves throughout the summer. I just started a new crop a few days ago - they already have true leaves and are doing great. In the ground or a large pot the plants will get quite large and have grown for me in full to part sun. They don't dry out quickly and are just amazingly resilient plants.

We also buy large packs of kkaenip leaves at H-Mart for big dishes like kkaenip kimchi but it is great to always have fresh leaves on hand. It is a staple in our kitchen! Try it in gimbap - yum!

I buy my seeds from Evergreen Seeds. They've always had high fertility and can be kept in a sealed plastic bag in the fridge between seedings.

FINDING FAMILY: DNA Testing Through 23andMe

I started my birth family search just over three years ago. I will post more in-depth about that process later, but for now, I have heard nothing back. This has left me in a bit of a holding pattern - waiting to find out if the information I have is true, and if it is false, waiting to find out the truth, if there is any to know. The waiting is the hardest part, knowing that whatever news may come will only create more questions.

I recently heard about Korean adoptees finding other adoptee relatives through the DNA testing site 23andMe. I don't normally spend $100 on a whim, but this was something I needed. I ordered my kit on September 6, and my complete results were posted on October 10. It was an anxious 5 weeks. I joined the KAD 23andMe Results Group on facebook to commiserate about the waiting process with others and talk about results.

Why was this so important to me? Up until 3 days ago I was not related to anyone else. I now have 55 distant cousins. One I had previously met at an adoptee gathering. I'm no longer a lone single floating dot  - I am connected genetically to others. This is meaningful to me. Another piece of the puzzle.

I admit to being disappointed at not finding any closer relatives. Some folks have found 2nd or 3rd cousins - mine were all 4th to distant. But it's still more than what I had before, and the 23andMe community is always growing, so there's always the potential to find more relatives.

I don't know what I will do with this new information. But just having it is exciting.

(sidebar: My health information didn't lend anything particularly illuminating - most of the data is based off people with European ancestry and for better or for worse, nothing big came up. But for other folks I think that health information can be really useful.)

Curious? Try it out. Let's be cousins!

NOMS: Gluten-Free Egg Bbang (계란 빵)

빵 stand in Insadong, 2009

These sweet little steamed bbang were one of the first street foods I encountered in Korea. These sweet little muffins were filled with bits of nuts and dried fruit and were absolutely delicious. I remember they came freshly cooked, about seven to a little paper bag. They had a sweet, spongy texture and a delicious smell. When I saw this recipe for Egg Bbang on Aeri's Kitchen, I had to make them.

Our first attempt failed because we tried to use a regular muffin tin. A silicone muffin tin is a necessity for this recipe - I'm not sure if it is the gluten-free flour or the recipe itself, but our first batch was impossible to get out of the pan cleanly. Some of our friends scored us a silicone muffin pan off of Freecycle, so we gave it another go.

I'm diabetic, so we always reduce sugar by half in baked goods. I am also gluten-intolerant, so we subbed in our gluten-free flour mix for the all purpose flour. With the gluten-free flour, the batter ended up being really thick, so we added some extra milk to thin it out a bit. We didn't have any regular milk on hand so we used Korean black soybean milk, which gave the finished buns a darker color. 

Despite modifications these buns were sweet, delicious and really brought me back. We made six with eggs and four without - either way they do not keep and should be eaten immediately.

Here is our modified ingredient list:

• 3/4 C Gluten-Free Flour Mix (see below)
• 2 eggs for batter and more eggs for inside the buns
• 1/2 C melted salted butter
• scant 1/4 C sugar
• 1/3 C soy milk
• 3/4 tsp baking powder
• sea salt
• melted butter for brushing

Gluten-Free Flour Mix (adapted from artofglutenfreebaking.com)

• 1 1/4 C brown rice flour
• 1 1/4 C millet flour
• 1 C tapioca flour
• 1 C glutinous rice flour (we use the Thai brand Erawan)
• 2 tsp xanthan gum

an introduction

me with foster mom, 1985

This blog is a chronicle of my diasporic Korean life.

I was born in Korea, adopted to America, raised in New Jersey, educated in Ohio and am currently living, loving and making art in Seattle, Washington.

I am a queer, fat, chronically ill, radically politicized and person with a Western education. All of these things often feel directly at odds with being "authentically Korean". But I still have a deep desire to (re)claim and (re)discover my culture, and in the process, find my own path.

My connection will never be free and easy. That is simply not meant for me. I hope that in keeping this blog I can give voice to both my challenges and celebrations.