"Korean Like you, Mommy!"

It’s such a trip for me - a 40-year old Korean American woman, to see my daughter - a 5-year old half Korean, half Italian little girl, have so much pride in her Korean-ness.

“Like you, Mommy!” she says.

When I remind her that she’s also half Italian, she breaks out into Dean Martin’s Mambo Italiano, a song she knows from her trips to Luigi’s dancing car ride at Disney’s California Adventure.

But then she reiterates, “I’m half Korean, too. Like you and Rumi and Grandma and Grandpa.”

As a kid growing up full-Korean with freckles and small eyes, a round face and big cheeks in skinny-with-a-side-of-silicone, Malibu, the pride came from what my parents told me to feel, not how I actually felt, next to my lithe, carefree, blonde peers who incidentally also had a lot more money at their disposal.

While I wore leggings and maroon bicycle shorts from the Family Bargain (maybe it was “Discount”) Center in Oxnard, paired with eyelet blouses from Grandma, they wore miniskirts and Uggs.

Which is not to complain exactly…but to say that my pride in my Korean-ness and self, moved from blind faith not empirical evidence (except for my grades, which were always very good).

My daughter moves from pop-culture supported belief – K-Pop Demonhunters, Rose, BTS, the ubiquity of Korean foods, Korean skincare, Korean faces everywhere, that the foundation of who she is, is worth celebrating.

What a difference a few decades makes.