I decided to sit down for several days and think this out. Here’s what I’ve got (Content warning: lots of f-bombs):
I.
To me, Korea seemed to be the site of endless fuck fuck games. Grades are curved so that someone must be losers even if everyone’s getting passing grades. Even if you survive this fuck-and-be-fucked game throughout middle and high schools, you’ll be taking standardized exams seemingly for life—to become a lawyer, to get into Samsung, to become a prison guard, and, heck, even to get promoted. And I was already counting how many more exams I’d need to take before entering high school. Twelve, eleven, ten… If there’s an end to this race, I’d stick it out, but what if there isn’t? What if I’m eventually going to be fucked at least once regardless of my genius (mind you, I was a self-absorbed middle school kid) because that’s how the system is exactly designed?
II.
I was visiting a friend during my first semester in high school. I told lies to my parents and sneaked out to Seoul over the weekend. The friend had run away from home and was living in a shelter that offers community classes. As we chatted on the rooftop, he puffed a cigarette. He had gone home several days ago to get his clothes in six months, and he ran into his mother in the living room.
“What did she say?”
“She said hi, so I gathered my clothes and said bye.”
As I listened to him, I looked down at the clusters of two- and three-story buildings in the neighborhood. The shelter was located on the hill, and no high-rise buildings were blocking my view. I somehow felt liberated.
In the evening, he called his friend, and we went to a local fried chicken place with two or three tables. He passed as an adult, so he poured beer into the glass before him and chugged it into my mouth whenever the shop owner wasn’t looking at us (Now that I think about it, the owner probably noticed it because we were acting goofy, but we felt this was a perfect crime). When we returned to the shelter for the night, there was a tall and skinny teen in the room. He wore glasses and was soft-spoken. He was not the type of kid you’d imagine meeting at a shelter. We talked before going to bed, and I was taking a piss when I heard, “I wish I could go to a fancy high school like yours.” From the restroom, where the toilet was spinning before my eyes, I blurted, “Nah, this place is better.” Look at all the books in the living room and the discussion groups. Here, you study because you want to study, not to survive in the system. This place is no fuck fuck games. Both of us were sincerely jealous of each other, and I fell asleep as soon as I returned from the restroom.
III.
With the combination of my will and pure luck, I moved to the U.S. earlier than I had planned. With minimal language barrier and the yearning to put everything behind me, I quickly immersed myself in the new place and called it home. Concurrently, and quite paradoxically, my anger toward Korea subdued. Living in a place where competitions are not as cut-throat, I realized that what I called “fuck fuck games” weren’t utterly absurd and are sometimes necessary. Also, though often imperfect, many of them were the outcomes of sincere efforts to improve the status quo. Furthermore, ideals (e.g., fairness, justice, equality, etc.), human tendencies, policies, and systems are intertwined in ways much more complicated than I had imagined as fourteen years old.
As such, my relationship with Korea steadily changed. From forgiving to reconciling. From reconciling to feeling that I could have grown compatible with this place. What if I had stayed here? Would I have run away like the friend I’m no longer in touch with? Would I have lost in the mindless fuck fuck games and become a loser, as I had feared as a middle school student? Standing at a crosswalk in the evening in my hometown over the summer break, I saw men around my age selling meat and delivering food on scooters. As I grew older, it became clear there’s no shame in making money honestly, living near your family members, and forming a family early on. Prestige is a plus, but life doesn’t fall apart without it. Yet, it was also undoubtedly clear that being successful in the U.S. is far better than not being successful in Korea. Therefore, even though I must fly across the Pacific to see family members and occasionally feel ostracized from both places, I am clearly better off and happy in this actual world. Moreover, I am lucky that I had a choice. Based on my experience, I could make informed projections for myself in both places. Plus, even if the outcome is unsatisfactory, I would feel less helpless because I willingly committed myself to the choice.
IV.
Or are they clear? First, I’ve been fairly successful in the U.S., but would I have been unsuccessful had I stayed in Korea? I thought so based on the perceptions of myself and Korea I had in my middle school years. But I could have grown mature and realistic in high school and did well in a college entrance exam. Even if I didn’t do well in the exam, I could have gotten a secure job and found joy in the ordinary.
More importantly, what is so fortunate about being able to make informed projections for both possible worlds, as the result of living in both places? For instance, I don’t feel restricted because I’m unable to make informed projections about myself living in Germany, as I’ve never lived there. Unlike propositions about myself in a possible world that is close to my actual world—e.g., “I would’ve made lunch for myself if my friend didn’t call me to grab a sandwich together” or “I would’ve moved to Seoul if I stayed in Korea.”—the following statements do not incite any feelings in me: “I would’ve attended Gymnasium and passed Arbitur had I lived in Germany” or “I would’ve had lunch near Cologne Cathedral on a summer day had I lived in Cologne.” The possible world where I had moved to Germany is so distant that it feels like a fairy tale. The truth is that I will never be informed enough to determine the truth conditions of all propositions in all possible worlds, and that’s just fine.
So if I had stayed in Korea, a possible world where I live in the U.S. could have felt similarly distant. If so (and if I’ve gotten over the fuck fuck games), I could’ve been satisfied with making informed projections about possible worlds and choices without involving the U.S. In other words, the statement that I’m lucky that I have a choice between the U.S. and Korea can be established only if I have lived in the U.S.
V.
Here’s one caveat, though. As a middle school student, I was so familiar with the U.S. that the possible world where I permanently live there didn’t feel like a fairy tale. I knew the language, culture, and the school system. My brother and his friends were there, and I was on the route to go to a U.S. university. So, the U.S. wasn’t as distant as Germany to me. And that’s why I felt I was stuck in Korea back then. As such, whether I—in a possible world where I’d never left Korea—would’ve felt stuck can be rephrased as the following question: “Would I have felt the same proximity to the U.S. as an adult?”
So, the question of whether I would’ve felt stuck is distinct from the question of whether I would’ve had a choice to move to the U.S. It’s also distinct from the question of whether I would’ve retained enough propositional knowledge about the U.S. (i.e., familiar with the U.S. as in having knowledge) because I’m talking about the feeling of familiarity. Imagine traveling to São Paulo for the first time. I can study the map of the city and learn its history, culture, and language, but I still wouldn’t find the city familiar when I first land there.
If the feeling of familiarity is distinct and separate from knowing facts, then there’s no way I can conclude how I have felt in another world because all I can project is my knowledge in that possible world. If the feeling of familiarity and knowing facts are distinct but not separate, then I need to know how they are connected to determine how I would’ve felt in another possible world. But I have no answer to this for now.
VI.
I was walking in Boramae Park during lunchtime. The park was crowded with young people in their twenties, thirties, and forties strolling with a cup of coffee. Many of them were wearing lanyards, indicating that they work in companies near the park.
And I plunge into wishful thoughts again. What if I had a regular job, found a partner, and lived an otherwise “ordinary” Korean life? Yes, I know each person has his or her own struggles, but those struggles could’ve been more commonplace struggles shared by many others. How to raise a child, where and how to buy a house, how to take care of aging parents, and so on. You’d see your family members often, instead of spending hours on a plane. Also, I know there is no seamless identity—for identities are intertwined in complicated ways that don’t always align with a conventional definition—but I could have felt less awkward as an ethnic Korean had I never been displaced from this land.
So what if I had overcome fuck fuck games and got to the point where I can play Frisbee with coworkers before returning to the office? What if my life, unlike what I had imagined, didn’t end up like my friend’s? Would I have been satisfied with my life? I don’t know. I really don’t. So it’s probably time to focus on the fact that I’m quite satisfied with this actual world I live in. But I should admit that good weather and a beautiful park do make you fanciful… Yeah, so this was a long-winded way to say, “Hey, this park is fucking beautiful.”
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