Token

Every two years I look forward to attending the North American Pacific Asian Disciples convocation. Not only is this a time for me to retreat from my mundane life to meet with old friends and share communion with them, but as odd as this may sound, it is also one of those rare moments in my life when I can enjoy being part of a majority group.

It seems strange that I, a second generation, born and raised Korean-American woman, still struggles with my identity in a time when an African American man is running for president, and being different is considered "trendy." But after much reflection, it occurred to me that the problem lies not in the fact that I am different, but rather in a single word's meaning that I cannot seem to grasp; the deep and complex meanings behind the word — tokenism.

The Encarta dictionary defines tokenism as "the practice of making only a symbolic effort at something, especially in order to meet the minimum requirements of the law," but somehow, I do not feel like that definition does justice to the true complexity and deep rooted meanings of that word. For example, what then, does it mean to be a "token Asian" in my church? What does it mean to be the token anyone? How do we have equal representation of all people at all times without creating a "tokenism-inspired" environment? Does tokenism decide which minority group is most important by awarding them a "token spot?" For example, there is a sizeable deaf /mute community in our churches, our schools and our workplaces, but are they receiving a token spot? If not, should I feel lucky that there are token spots for me-a privileged Korean-American woman, but not them-a handicapped person? Should I feel lucky that if my resume looked identical to an Anglo-American woman's resume that I would stand out more because of my racial background? I do not understand. Because if that is the case, to me, that would not be fair. The Anglo-American woman worked equally as hard as I did. It is not her fault that she is Anglo-American, just as much as it is not my fault that I am Korean-American. If I were chosen for that job, would she have a fleeting moment where she wished she were a person of color? If she got the job, would I blow off the company as being racist?

Questions like these constantly taunt me everywhere I go and every time I attempt to participate in something that requires me to identify my racial background. Often times these thoughts crowd my judgment and my ability to think clearly — to understand who I am deep inside. Sometimes I reject my identity, my look, my race, because I do not want to be seen as "that Asian woman." Or as "that Asian woman, who got the spot because she is an Asian woman." Sometimes I am blinded by the desire to be color-blind, rejecting the very core of who I am inside, because I do not think it is fair that people be treated differently, either with extra respect, or extra disdain because of their racial background. But this past week, being around people who have been struggling with these questions much longer than I have has helped me see my identity in a new light.

During this past week at the NAPAD convocation, it occurred to me that ignoring my racial background would be ignoring my identity. It seems like that connection would be inherent, but for some reason, it did not previously click in my brain in that way. Being around strong Asian women, who spoke out for the Asian community during business sessions, and being around intellectual Asian women who speak and think more progressively than their forefathers ever dreamed of, helped me gain an odd sense of pride in who I am — a female minority. It was up to me to decide what adjective I would want to put in front of that title. When thinking of it in that light, somehow, the "color-blind Asian woman" did not sound too appealing. Why was I trying to be color-blind when God created us in different colors for a reason? If he had wanted us to be color-blind he would have made us all identical!

I finally understood that my different appearance is a gift, an identity given from God and I should learn to share it, use it, fight for it, speak out for it and flaunt it because it is the beautiful craftwork of my Lord. That is not to say that I need to think that my "gift of identity" is better than another person's "gift of identity," but that by connecting with each other through sharing our different identities, we find that we are actually all the same-sharing the same identity in Christ. That is why, we take communion as one, open to all, using all of our sensing, celebrating color, beauty and uniqueness in all. It was during my reflection of this past week spent as a majority that I decided to put behind my childish renditions of how I believed the church and the world saw me as a minority and focus more on how I wish God to see me-as his beautiful Korean daughter seeing others, and loving others-in a non-token way.