Kim had always been more than just a name. It had been a constant reminder of my otherness. My not-good-enough-ness.
My dad went silent. He cleared his throat. Finally he answered, “Korean names aren’t as respected as Western ones. My daughter knows what she’s doing.”
And suddenly it clicked. My name was not a shackle. My name was my history and my pride. Writing as a Kim was an opportunity to reclaim my name, and to embrace my label.
One day when I have my book in my hands, I will proudly give it to my dad and point at our name on the cover. “Look appa,” I’ll say.
And when that day comes, I hope that my dad will be proud of me too.
#RepresentationMatters