This is going to go into OhMyNews as a column after being translated into Korean. Here's the raw text they'll be working with.
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"A Message from One American"
One thing that has long frustrated me about being an American in Korea has been the way America, its history, and its people have been understood by most Korean people. For most Koreans I know, America is a place of extreme fantasy: either an imperialist nation characterized by discrimination and hypocrisy, or a perfect land of freedom and plenty. Of course, it's neither.
Sex and the City is a fantasy; no one could ever have that much sex or buy the clothes they wear. No one on Friends could ever afford to live in those apartments -- a masseuse, grad student, aspiring actor -- it's ludicrous. No, despite negative news stories, I've never been shot, seen anyone shot, nor do I own a gun. Most of the black people I know have jobs, wear normal clothes, and speak perfectly good English, despite the fantasy of black people that Korean kids in ridiculous hip hop clothes in Hongdae clubs have about us, or that keeps many mothers from wanting to have their kids taught by a black hagwon instructor.
It's obvious that most images of America have been formed by Hollywood fantasy or sensationalistic news stories that don't at all define the everyday life and thinking of Americans. In the same way, if all Americans knew of Korea was from the news and Korean movies and television, we'd think that Korea was a country full of heated love triangles involving Cinderella figures and chaebeol heirs, or that black-suited gangsters constantly got into fights using flying spinning back kicks. Everyone would live in a 100-pyeong house and drive expensive cars, live in Daechi-dong, and have "fashion designer" jobs in which they never seem to do any real work.
But on top of this fantasy vision of America, Koreans over the last 8 years have been essentially exposed to America at its very worst: unilateralism, closemindedness, and a general mean-spiritedness exemplified by our soon-to-be former president George W. Bush. In 2004, when he was re-elected, many of my Korean friends were aghast and couldn't understand how just over half of the American population voted for him. It was at this moment, I think, that Koreans most vividly realized that they really, really didn't understand America or Americans.
We are, essentially, a very conservative people. Most Koreans seem quite surprised to hear that, but those Koreans who have lived in America (and not as a partying exchange student) understand this. Essentially, we're a land in which public drunkenness at the office party is frowned upon, there is no such thing as a "room salon", and where the shorts skirts and high heels of many Korean women would draw stares. In the so-called "Bible belt," most people would describe themselves as moderate to deep Christians, but most do not make much of a point to go convert people on the streets, go to heavily politicalized megachurches, or constantly make their friends and colleagues uncomfortable by asking them, "Are you a Christian?" No matter our wilder media, real American life is in fact, pretty boring. We tend to have wider streets and bigger houses than in Korea, have endless shopping malls that look like Coex, and don't necessarily like how commercialized our lives have become. We're a country that invented the concept of "home theater" because we don't like to go out much, party at home, and its become cheaper and easier than going to a real movie. In Korea, such items get transformed into "luxury" items; even there, Koreans and Americans have totally different ways of looking at things.
And that different view on the world is understandable. One thing that has struck me about many Koreans' way of looking at things has been the extremely realistic view of the way things work here that many people seem to have; in a Korean 20th century marked by colonial occupation, wars, extreme poverty, dictatorship, and a political culture that has not earned its own people's trust, a worldly pragmatism has been necessary to survive. I can totally understand that, since I am quite familiar with Korean history and have lived here half of my adult life. For a country that only gained anything that can be called real democracy about 15 years ago, it's understandable to see people who still distrust government, who don't have faith in institutions, who know that the "rule of law" sometimes is worth no more than the paper it's written on.
But I come from a different political culture. For one, the United States has the oldest political and democratic culture of any country that presently exists. Put more simply, the United States is the oldest country in the world. It may seem counterintuitive to a people constantly taught that Korean history is "5000 years" but in fact, it is not. When talking about the everyday life, the political institutions that control one's world, educational and social structures, Korea is quite young. Anyone who comes from a country with the oldest political institutions to one of the world's youngest can see this. In almost every aspect of daily life, this is patently obvious.
Which brings me to the real subject at hand -- Barack Obama and what this moment in history means to me, both as an American, as well as a member of the international community.
What I wish Koreans could really feel at this moment is what the election of Barack Obama means to many Americans. It's more than the fact that he's "the first black president" -- he's much, much more than that. In some conversations I've had, I've realized that some Koreans think he got some special break because he's black, or that most black people voted for him for that reason. Absolutely wrong. There have been black candidates for president before, and the majority of black people did NOT vote for them. Regarding that office, it's the one place that even black people truly believed no black person could go, and it reminded everyone that America's reality had a long way to go towards its ideals.
Yet, what Koreans should know is that American culture is very much an idealistic "you can do anything" kind of culture; one must ask themselves what is so dynamic about American culture such that one of the youngest CULTURES in the world has invented nearly every modern object used by people across the world, from the steam engine to the car, airplane to the laser, microchip to nanobots. Sure, other countries perfect them and make them faster or smaller, but we INVENT them. Why? Because of our natural resources? Historical luck? Sure, that's a part of the story.
But it's also because ours was the culture that got rid of rigid social classes, hierarchies, and barriers. Yes, our nation was founded in slavery and the extermination of native peoples, but there is also a historical tendency towards greater freedom and equality, as our nation has outgrown its bloody past and repudiated old ways of thinking. One thing that makes me proud as an American is that we do NOT have a 5000-year history in which things didn't remain essentially static and separate from the rest of the world. In the space of the just over 150 years that passed since the early 1800's, when America became a maturing nation, the amount of economic, technological, and social progress in America has been astonishing. And this progress -- from the radio to the telephone to the television to the computer to the Internet -- has affected everyone in the entire world.
Is this arrogant to say? I don't think so. It's merely a fact, and something that I can proudly point to in my culture. But more than things, what I am most prideful of in my culture is the OTHER kind of progress: we are a culture in which black men used to be hung from trees for even LOOKING at a white person in a way they didn't like just 50 years ago to becoming President of the United States.
Can you imagine what that means for Americans? All Americans? It's not just the black thing -- it's a reaffirmation of our ability to have FAITH in our "Yes, we can!" culture again. Barack Obama only appeared on the national political scene 4 years ago, when he spoke at the Democratic National Convention about helping to end America's "political darkness." He articulated what many Americans were thinking. But it was more than that -- it was an ideological darkness, in which America had become a negative, divisive, even seemingly foreign place to live. Where was the optimism, the positivity, the "can do" spirit? It had been replaced by fear and loathing, distrust and negativity. He was a sudden ray of hope.
Yet, even when Obama was starting the election course last winter at the Iowa caucus, many (including myself) still doubted how far he could go. We WANTED him to go far, but wasn't he perhaps being a bit unrealistic? But then he won the state against Hilary Clinton. He WON! Suddenly, a new level had been reached -- an almost completely WHITE state had gone for Obama. And the further he went, the more our hopes started to rise with him. And when he won the Democratic candidacy, many people were both shocked and elated.
But we still doubted, deep inside. Could he beat an old white man for president? And with conservative and charming (well, back then) Palin -- perhaps this was as far as he could go? And a man with the middle name "Hussein?" And perhaps -- even as with as far as he had come -- perhaps many white people would, behind the privacy of the secret ballot simply choose McCain. Perhaps even on election day this so-called "Bradley effect" (of a white person saying to a pollster they would vote for the black candidate publicly because it sounded good, but privately be unable to do so) would take effect?
And then...he...WON. That is the moment that 80% American optimism became 100%, that the memory of the past 8 years suddenly seemed like a terrible nightmare we were about to awaken from, that America seemed to be fulfilling fully on its ideals.
We've always been a nation of ideals, and we've spent our entire existence trying to achieve them -- that is one aspect of the greatness of America, even if there have been contradictions and challenges. America has always best been defined by what Obama yesterday called the "enduring power of our ideals" -- and not the temporary and transitory reality that at one time had black people in chains, in which women could not at one time vote, that once passed laws to stop Chinese from immigrating to our country.
Yes, we've had bad times. The realities of our history had oftentimes been harsh. But this was one of the most important points in our history -- when the original sin of our country's history seemed to be symbolically cancelled by a black man becoming president. This was the instant when parents who had always lied to their children in saying "Yes, dear. You can do anything. You can even be President" no longer had to. It had magically become no longer a white lie. In a single instant, WE and Obama had broadened the range of what already-optimistic Americans thought we could do -- WE put a man on the moon, WE made a black man President of the United States. It's funny that the former happened first. Because in American reality, it was more realistic to send Apollo 11 to the moon and back in 1969 than even offer a black person basic political rights. And now, here we were.
So, I urge Koreans who want to understand what this means to an American like me to try to think about this not in terms of being a Korean. Yours is a totally different history than ours, and even when thinking about America, it's usually through a narrow and distorted lens, and only in terms of American policy as it affects Korea, say as in the tank accident of 2002 or the American beef issue of this year.
America, if you really understand it, is more than a few bad GI's, English teachers you don't want dating your women, or the symbol of your frustration at an out-of-control private education/English industry, or even the last 8 years of George W. Bush. America, as both a nation and an idea, is much broader and more complex than that. If there's one way I'd explain America, I'll do it in the words of our next President of the United States, which upon hearing, I began to cry. I have only cried twice in my life as an adult man -- at my father's funeral and yesterday, during Barack Obama's acceptance speech. Here are the words that moved me so:
If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible, who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time, who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.
It's the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen, by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different, that their voices could be that difference.
It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled. Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been just a collection of individuals or a collection of red states and blue states.
We are, and always will be, the United States of America.
It's the answer that led those who've been told for so long by so many to be cynical and fearful and doubtful about what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.
This was the beginning. And when I heard this, it was when I knew the nightmare was over, that my kind of idealism and that it was now OK for an old-fashioned, very American way of thinking to come to the fore again:
And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces, to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of the world, our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand.
To those -- to those who would tear the world down: We will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security: We support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright: Tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity and unyielding hope.
That's the true genius of America: that America can change. Our union can be perfected. What we've already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.
Those are the moments when many of the Americans you see crying on television broke down -- all at once, it was a repudiation of the previous 8 years, as well as an affirmation of the hope we still had for America. And that it was going to be possible, for many of us, to be proud to be American again.
For the first time in nearly a decade, I want to fly an American flag outside my window. Because it won't be a symbol of cynicism, or unilateral arrogance, of an expression of anger over 9/11, blind patriotism, or any of that. It can now be a symbol of hope, of inclusiveness and unity, and of the spirit of "Yes, we can." Suddenly, all the nice things that American is SUPPOSED to be, what we were taught in elementary school and perhaps snickered at in middle school -- it seems like it could actually come true.
People all over the world are proud of their cultures and nations. But many Americans have had to be embarrassed about and apolgetic of our country's actions for the last couple decades, especially the last one. Now, something has changed. It started with the symbol of our electing Obama. And under him, we have faith that we can build an America that not only Americans, but other countries around the world, can once again believe in.
As those of us who helped elect Obama chanted yesterday, "Yes, we can!" We believe it. And we hope that non-Americans around the world can believe with us, too.
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