Oori

In Korean (and other Confucian-derived value system) culture, there is the concept of oori, which is a word that translates more or less into "us" or "ours". It permeates Korean societal order and dictates family roles and responsibilities. Often when one refers to her parents, she would say oori um-ma, oori ap-pa, "our mom", "our dad" instead of "my mom", "my dad", because no one singularly owns any relationship. We all belong to one another. Oori guides the actions of the community, government policies and even the way businesses are financed and run. It stresses loyalty, putting family first, coming together to help bring everyone up, truly leaving no one behind to fend for themselves if you can help it. It means that if you feel happiness, everyone shares in that joy. And if you experience a setback, you are not left to get through it alone. But it can also mean if the ship is sinking, we don't go outside of our tight-knit circle for help - at least not voluntarily - even if it means we're all going down with it (think Korean chaebol banking scandal in the '90s). While I've grown up in the U.S., in the Midwest no less, and I believe in personal responsibility and being in control of one's own success or failure, I've never been able to escape the pull of oori. Even when oori has let me down, I still return to it with hope of finding ... something.

In its ideal form, it's a beautiful concept - something that I continue to look for by seeking out a Korean-American community and friendships online, since I haven't found it in my everyday life.

It's also a burden, in cases where Koreans and Korean-Americans are put front and center like the Virginia Tech murders. Because not only can we not avoid being lumped together as a culture or race or sub-set of American society that is responsible for "producing" or "creating" such an individual, but then there is the instinctive reaction to feel somehow responsible for something you had nothing to do with, that the actions of one are the actions of all. Even if we know intellectually that this is simply not true, and other Asians and even non-Koreans tell us they recognize that it's not true (thank you to all our supportive regulars and friends).

I have had a difficult time trying to assemble anything coherent out of everything I have been feeling  and relate it to my Korean-American perspective and experience, because it's so outside and beyond my construct of reality or realm of possibility. I still haven't been able to find the words, or string together any ideas to contribute to the thoughtful discussion and critical issues to help us move on emotionally. I guess I just want to say that now, I extend all the best and good intentions of oori to the lives that were taken, to those who have been heartbroken, angered, bewildered, and shaken by this. I know that I am affected on many levels: as an American, as a Korean-American, as a child of immigrants, as a parent, as a mother of a son (I cannot even begin to imagine how the mother in this situation must feel), and just as a human, period. Because so many innocent have been affected by the actions of one.

-- Carol