I Wonder If Korea Will Be Kind to Her

Recently, we visited Korea — Little Lion, Big Bear, and me.

Big Bear now insists she’s going to open her own hotel in Seoul one day. She’ll raise her children there with her “not-so-handsome” police officer husband… who, she quickly adds, has muscles.

I laugh as she paints her future so confidently, finishing two boxes of those famous Korean strawberries.

I laugh — but my mind races.

I wonder if Korea will be kind to her.

⸻

Earlier that day, we stopped at a convenience store before a hair appointment, just in case it ran long.

Big Bear lit up the moment we walked in.

“Mom, I’ve always wanted to try this flavor.”

She grabbed a bag of chips, eyes wide, already scanning the shelves for more. Curious. Excited. Completely at ease.

And then—

The cashier, a middle-aged woman, looked at her and said:

“Why do you speak gibberish instead of Korean?”

Big Bear smiled politely.

She didn’t respond.

She didn’t understand a single word.

So I answered, a little sharper than I intended:

“She’s from the States.”

The cashier nodded, almost approvingly.

“Well, she should learn her language. Korea is a great country.”

I smiled.

But my eyes didn’t.

What I wanted to say was:
mind your own business.

⸻

I know.

If Big Bear had more obviously Western features, no one would have said anything.

But she doesn’t.

Her dark hair.
Her bright brown eyes.

She looks like any other Korean child.

Except she isn’t.

And maybe that’s the hardest part.

Korea isn’t always ready for children like her —
children who look like they belong,
but don’t fully fit the version of belonging people expect.

She may always be quietly examined —
assessed, measured —
because she looks the same, but somehow isn’t.

Like a grapefruit in a land of mandarins.

I don’t know if a grapefruit can find happiness there.

If she does,
I think I might, too.