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CAROL PARK
Author, Memoir of a Cashier
Author Carol Park grew up in Los Angeles County during the 1980s and 1990s, a time of ethnic strife. Now she seeks to give voice to the Korean American community both then and now. Memoir of a Cashier is more than just a description of a young girl's life growing up while working in a bulletproof cashier's booth in Compton, California. Park tells the story of the Korean American experience leading up to and after the 1992 Los Angeles Riots.
So to start off -- we know that the Korean-American immigrant narrative has some commonalities, but is also very different among families. Could you share with us a little bit about how your family immigrated to the United States and how you grew up?
Sure, my mom and my dad came like in the mid-early 1970’s, with the whole wave of Koreans after the 1965 Immigration Act was passed. So they really benefited from being able to come after the Korean War and rely on our family here. My mom worked at a little sewing place in Los Angeles for a little bit and met my dad in a small apartment complex. Love is love! They got married and then had my two older brothers and me. They were living the Korean-American Dream. This is the dream land, the promised land, and they achieved the dream through their small business. They had the business and us kids; we were fat and happy and lived like that until 1990, when my father passed away. Then my mother started living the other Korean America life. The single mom life with three kids.
Thank you so much for that. How did you navigate coming to terms of your Korean American identity?
This notion of ethnicity is still debated today in America. Am I just Korean? Cause I look Korean. My eyes look Korean, but I was born here. So I am American. Young Oak Kim, who was this war hero and an amazing humanitarian, found a bunch of organizations here in Los Angeles. He often said he was both 100% Korean and 100% American. Whenever I go back to Korea, they look at me and say, “look at her, she can’t even speak Korean,” so I am kind of ostracized. In both of my countries, they do not see me as 100%, but I consider myself 100% each way. I follow Korean values and use Korean terms. I eat hamburgers and Coca-Cola. I eat kimchi and rice cakes. So I am both.
Did you develop that strong sense of identity when you were younger?
Nope! I didn’t develop it until much later, when I started working at my mom’s gas station. My Korean-ness hit me in the face. I was called racist names: chink, nip, oriental. This is why education is so important. To be called all those things made me wonder why I was being called all that. It always bothered me on a subconscious level, but it didn’t really come into play until much later.
If I were in your position and being called all that, it would probably drive me away from my Korean identity.
It made me so mad. I would be like “F*** you, if you’re going to be racist, get it right. I am Korean! You can call me a gook. I am not Japanese, so you can’t call me Jap. Come on, guys!” Why do people hate Koreans? Why do they marginalize us? Why do they think one way about us when in reality that is not who we are?
A lot of your book talks about racial tension. Can you just tell us some stories or some examples of the time when you were working as a cashier?
How much time do we have? (laughs) So when I started working there in the ‘90s, I was ten years old. It was 199, two years before the riot. The strife between Koreans and African American was at its high; the murder rate of Korean Americans in Los Angeles spiked in 1991. Customers would walk in and yell directly at me, this ten year old kid, “this can of soda shouldn’t be 65 cents, it should be 45 cents!” When I got older it shifted to, “You damn Koreans coming up in here taking all of our money. You Koreans don’t belong here! What are you doing here? F****** this and F****** that!” And I would yell, “Right back at you! If you’re going to be that way, right back at you!” That is not the right way. Of course I understand that now. Every time I worked, there was always some kind of fight and once, I got in a fight with a customer. He was calling me names so I confronted him and said, “You know what? F*** you! You can’t call my mom that!” “You little chinky ****** I will cut you, I will hurt you. I was like “Do it! You wanna cut me? You wanna hit me? Go for it!.” That was the mentality back then: fight, fight, fight. We didn't get along because we didn't understand each other.
In your experience, did racial tensions slowly build up or was it like an explosion kind of thing?
It had been there for a long time. When the Koreans started to come after the Immigration Act, they were marginalized and placed in a position where they could not get corporate jobs. So instead many of them started small businesses like gas stations, wig shops, and liquor stores. We had et class, we can rely on family members and community members. Where can we go? To immigrant hubs like Flushing in New York, Chicago, South Central Los Angeles. Imagine being a part of the African American community and an entirely new wave of immigrants flooding in, charging you 60 cents instead of 50 cents or whatever it was. You’re going to be resentful. But it wasn’t like Koreans did it on purpose. They couldn't get corporate jobs so they bought gas stations and worked their butts off until they could buy another one and so forth. Korean Americans were the subordinate class and the ruling class was white people? The tension was building and it exploded during the riots, which was sparked by the verdict of Rodney King as not guilty. Everybody just took to the streets -- but can you blame them? They had been abused and oppressed. Police brutality, lack of investment in their community, redlining...the problems were just mounting up.
Sure, my mom and my dad came like in the mid-early 1970’s, with the whole wave of Koreans after the 1965 Immigration Act was passed. So they really benefited from being able to come after the Korean War and rely on our family here. My mom worked at a little sewing place in Los Angeles for a little bit and met my dad in a small apartment complex. Love is love! They got married and then had my two older brothers and me. They were living the Korean-American Dream. This is the dream land, the promised land, and they achieved the dream through their small business. They had the business and us kids; we were fat and happy and lived like that until 1990, when my father passed away. Then my mother started living the other Korean America life. The single mom life with three kids.
Thank you so much for that. How did you navigate coming to terms of your Korean American identity?
This notion of ethnicity is still debated today in America. Am I just Korean? Cause I look Korean. My eyes look Korean, but I was born here. So I am American. Young Oak Kim, who was this war hero and an amazing humanitarian, found a bunch of organizations here in Los Angeles. He often said he was both 100% Korean and 100% American. Whenever I go back to Korea, they look at me and say, “look at her, she can’t even speak Korean,” so I am kind of ostracized. In both of my countries, they do not see me as 100%, but I consider myself 100% each way. I follow Korean values and use Korean terms. I eat hamburgers and Coca-Cola. I eat kimchi and rice cakes. So I am both.
Did you develop that strong sense of identity when you were younger?
Nope! I didn’t develop it until much later, when I started working at my mom’s gas station. My Korean-ness hit me in the face. I was called racist names: chink, nip, oriental. This is why education is so important. To be called all those things made me wonder why I was being called all that. It always bothered me on a subconscious level, but it didn’t really come into play until much later.
If I were in your position and being called all that, it would probably drive me away from my Korean identity.
It made me so mad. I would be like “F*** you, if you’re going to be racist, get it right. I am Korean! You can call me a gook. I am not Japanese, so you can’t call me Jap. Come on, guys!” Why do people hate Koreans? Why do they marginalize us? Why do they think one way about us when in reality that is not who we are?
A lot of your book talks about racial tension. Can you just tell us some stories or some examples of the time when you were working as a cashier?
How much time do we have? (laughs) So when I started working there in the ‘90s, I was ten years old. It was 199, two years before the riot. The strife between Koreans and African American was at its high; the murder rate of Korean Americans in Los Angeles spiked in 1991. Customers would walk in and yell directly at me, this ten year old kid, “this can of soda shouldn’t be 65 cents, it should be 45 cents!” When I got older it shifted to, “You damn Koreans coming up in here taking all of our money. You Koreans don’t belong here! What are you doing here? F****** this and F****** that!” And I would yell, “Right back at you! If you’re going to be that way, right back at you!” That is not the right way. Of course I understand that now. Every time I worked, there was always some kind of fight and once, I got in a fight with a customer. He was calling me names so I confronted him and said, “You know what? F*** you! You can’t call my mom that!” “You little chinky ****** I will cut you, I will hurt you. I was like “Do it! You wanna cut me? You wanna hit me? Go for it!.” That was the mentality back then: fight, fight, fight. We didn't get along because we didn't understand each other.
In your experience, did racial tensions slowly build up or was it like an explosion kind of thing?
It had been there for a long time. When the Koreans started to come after the Immigration Act, they were marginalized and placed in a position where they could not get corporate jobs. So instead many of them started small businesses like gas stations, wig shops, and liquor stores. We had et class, we can rely on family members and community members. Where can we go? To immigrant hubs like Flushing in New York, Chicago, South Central Los Angeles. Imagine being a part of the African American community and an entirely new wave of immigrants flooding in, charging you 60 cents instead of 50 cents or whatever it was. You’re going to be resentful. But it wasn’t like Koreans did it on purpose. They couldn't get corporate jobs so they bought gas stations and worked their butts off until they could buy another one and so forth. Korean Americans were the subordinate class and the ruling class was white people? The tension was building and it exploded during the riots, which was sparked by the verdict of Rodney King as not guilty. Everybody just took to the streets -- but can you blame them? They had been abused and oppressed. Police brutality, lack of investment in their community, redlining...the problems were just mounting up.
"I’m finally at an age where people will take me seriously, because I’m a scholar now. Before I got my degree, people wouldn’t listen to me. I was just some angry Korean girl."
In your opinion, what are the most effective ways to resolve ethnic conflict or to mitigate institutionalized racism?
From an academic standpoint, we need to educate, of course. We need to talk about these issues and about coalition building. This is very important. But from the young cashiers’ point of view, we have to go out to the streets. I can sit in a conference and talk about these things. But if I turn on Facebook or Instagram Live, I would reach far more people. I think that is what we need to do -- bridge academia with everyday life and people. The next conference we have, we need to use social media, because not everyone understands academic jargon. We need to talk to people and communicate with them in a matter where both sides can understand. Bridge those cultural and temporal gaps in communication.
Yeah, it must be tough to tackling an event like the 1992 Riots that impacted Korean American community on such a large scale. What inspired you to write a memoir about those tough times?
Therapy. I have been telling these stories since I was a kid; they are pouring out of my skin. At the gas station I saw some crazy things; I saw some guy getting hit by a motorcycle, a woman getting stabbed, and one guy shooting another. I was going to graduate school for creative writing. Dan Stellman, who herself was a well known author, told me I should write about that. I said I would think about it but was really just doing my own thing and working on my degree. Then I saw a press release that said there was a Korean American center to be established at UC Riverside. I thought, “Huh, this is interesting. Let me contact the center.” The contact happened to be Professor Edward Chang. I went in as a wide-eyed graduate student and asked if I could work with him. He was like, “Yeah, yeah, come on.” He really encouraged me to write about the riots because it’s important for our community. It was really hard to write at times. People died; I almost died. I’ve gotten guns held to my head. But at the end of the day, if I don't say anything, who will? It has been 20 years since the riots and we still don’t have a solid book about what was one of the most monumental experiences of Korean American history. People died and lost their parents and siblings. So it had to be done. Many many months of therapy later, the book was born. Therapy and mental health are important. It produced this book. Imagine what it could do for those who are still suffering.
Why do you think it was so important for you to tell the Korean American perspective or the Korean American side of the 1992 riot?
It’s a multifaceted answer. Personally, for me the number one reason is that people kept getting it wrong. I was like, “You weren't there. You didn’t see it! You don’t understand what the tension was like. You don’t understand that the school down the street with the broken glass and the brown grass had been like that for years. This community had no investment. You don't understand!” I was a little upset, but telling this story was therapeutic and cathartic. It was important to tell the Korean American perspective because it wasn’t being said. People still tell me, “I didn't know Korean Americans were marginalized and abandoned during the riots; I just saw them with their guns on the rooftops.” My book depicts them not as villains, but as honest people defending their stores. Professor Chang encouraged me to do it, and I was encouraged by others including K. W. Lee. He is a jewel.
We saw a clip at the beginning of NCLC of him passionately testifying about many Korean Americans were absent, but the gang members were the ones who were actually protecting our communities. Do you agree?
I didn’t have any Korean friends. I was kind of isolated in that. In terms of my generation not being there for our parents, KW had a point. I’m finally at an age where people will take me seriously, because I’m a scholar now. Before I got my degree, people wouldn’t listen to me. I was just some angry Korean girl. And now your generation has the power to change that even more. Go raise your voices for our minority brothers and sisters, so when I am an old woman I can say, “There is Kate, she is the first Korean American woman on the LA City Council. KW is right -- we didn't have that voice then, but we do now.
That is kind of like the LA Times article featuring you and Justin Chon. These stories are being told from the Korean American perspective. What did you think of his movie Gook, by the way?
I think it was a creative way of telling the story of a Korean community. It was both beautiful and tragic. A well-told story.
I think I liked Gook so much because it reminded me a little bit of my family story. My grandparents also had a store in Compton as well. African Americans gang members and community members were the ones helping us out. I like how Gook portrayed the African American community and the Korean American community in a positive and healthy way.
My mom experienced some of that too. We did get looted and our cars got crashed, but the gas station was never burnt down. The one across the street was. Good relationships and friendships make a huge difference. Hopefully we can continue to bridge this gap. It is really about communication.
The presence of the Korean-American community has been rapidly increasing, especially with the widespread influence of Korean pop culture. What’s one change you’d like to see in the Korean-American community as we build our civic and social presence within our cities? How can the younger generation help specifically to aid the process?
I’d like to see a little more focus on the older generations to collect and cherish their stories. I know we already do, but I would like to do it more actively. We are fortunate to be here in this country. We are allowed to come out as LGBTQ. We are human beings. Embrace your identity -- that is the only way we are going to do it. We can still honor cultural traditions and honor our identities. Without identity, we are on shaky grounds. When you have a clear sense of identity, you can respond to racist comments confidently, because you know who you are and your Korean American history gives you strength. Also, people need to stop calling us a model minority. That’s bulls**t. Model minority, my left foot. Yeah, we work hard and we are different in the way we protest. But people need to stop categorizing our communities and pitting us against each other. I am not a model minority. I am all kinds of things. I am a writer. I am a lawyer. I am a rapper. I am everything. See us for who we truly are.
From an academic standpoint, we need to educate, of course. We need to talk about these issues and about coalition building. This is very important. But from the young cashiers’ point of view, we have to go out to the streets. I can sit in a conference and talk about these things. But if I turn on Facebook or Instagram Live, I would reach far more people. I think that is what we need to do -- bridge academia with everyday life and people. The next conference we have, we need to use social media, because not everyone understands academic jargon. We need to talk to people and communicate with them in a matter where both sides can understand. Bridge those cultural and temporal gaps in communication.
Yeah, it must be tough to tackling an event like the 1992 Riots that impacted Korean American community on such a large scale. What inspired you to write a memoir about those tough times?
Therapy. I have been telling these stories since I was a kid; they are pouring out of my skin. At the gas station I saw some crazy things; I saw some guy getting hit by a motorcycle, a woman getting stabbed, and one guy shooting another. I was going to graduate school for creative writing. Dan Stellman, who herself was a well known author, told me I should write about that. I said I would think about it but was really just doing my own thing and working on my degree. Then I saw a press release that said there was a Korean American center to be established at UC Riverside. I thought, “Huh, this is interesting. Let me contact the center.” The contact happened to be Professor Edward Chang. I went in as a wide-eyed graduate student and asked if I could work with him. He was like, “Yeah, yeah, come on.” He really encouraged me to write about the riots because it’s important for our community. It was really hard to write at times. People died; I almost died. I’ve gotten guns held to my head. But at the end of the day, if I don't say anything, who will? It has been 20 years since the riots and we still don’t have a solid book about what was one of the most monumental experiences of Korean American history. People died and lost their parents and siblings. So it had to be done. Many many months of therapy later, the book was born. Therapy and mental health are important. It produced this book. Imagine what it could do for those who are still suffering.
Why do you think it was so important for you to tell the Korean American perspective or the Korean American side of the 1992 riot?
It’s a multifaceted answer. Personally, for me the number one reason is that people kept getting it wrong. I was like, “You weren't there. You didn’t see it! You don’t understand what the tension was like. You don’t understand that the school down the street with the broken glass and the brown grass had been like that for years. This community had no investment. You don't understand!” I was a little upset, but telling this story was therapeutic and cathartic. It was important to tell the Korean American perspective because it wasn’t being said. People still tell me, “I didn't know Korean Americans were marginalized and abandoned during the riots; I just saw them with their guns on the rooftops.” My book depicts them not as villains, but as honest people defending their stores. Professor Chang encouraged me to do it, and I was encouraged by others including K. W. Lee. He is a jewel.
We saw a clip at the beginning of NCLC of him passionately testifying about many Korean Americans were absent, but the gang members were the ones who were actually protecting our communities. Do you agree?
I didn’t have any Korean friends. I was kind of isolated in that. In terms of my generation not being there for our parents, KW had a point. I’m finally at an age where people will take me seriously, because I’m a scholar now. Before I got my degree, people wouldn’t listen to me. I was just some angry Korean girl. And now your generation has the power to change that even more. Go raise your voices for our minority brothers and sisters, so when I am an old woman I can say, “There is Kate, she is the first Korean American woman on the LA City Council. KW is right -- we didn't have that voice then, but we do now.
That is kind of like the LA Times article featuring you and Justin Chon. These stories are being told from the Korean American perspective. What did you think of his movie Gook, by the way?
I think it was a creative way of telling the story of a Korean community. It was both beautiful and tragic. A well-told story.
I think I liked Gook so much because it reminded me a little bit of my family story. My grandparents also had a store in Compton as well. African Americans gang members and community members were the ones helping us out. I like how Gook portrayed the African American community and the Korean American community in a positive and healthy way.
My mom experienced some of that too. We did get looted and our cars got crashed, but the gas station was never burnt down. The one across the street was. Good relationships and friendships make a huge difference. Hopefully we can continue to bridge this gap. It is really about communication.
The presence of the Korean-American community has been rapidly increasing, especially with the widespread influence of Korean pop culture. What’s one change you’d like to see in the Korean-American community as we build our civic and social presence within our cities? How can the younger generation help specifically to aid the process?
I’d like to see a little more focus on the older generations to collect and cherish their stories. I know we already do, but I would like to do it more actively. We are fortunate to be here in this country. We are allowed to come out as LGBTQ. We are human beings. Embrace your identity -- that is the only way we are going to do it. We can still honor cultural traditions and honor our identities. Without identity, we are on shaky grounds. When you have a clear sense of identity, you can respond to racist comments confidently, because you know who you are and your Korean American history gives you strength. Also, people need to stop calling us a model minority. That’s bulls**t. Model minority, my left foot. Yeah, we work hard and we are different in the way we protest. But people need to stop categorizing our communities and pitting us against each other. I am not a model minority. I am all kinds of things. I am a writer. I am a lawyer. I am a rapper. I am everything. See us for who we truly are.