By: Sehee "Chloe" Han
the red squiggly line screams
at me from my computer screen.
foreign. unfamiliar. wrong.
all i did was type
my name.
i walk towards the line
for US citizens in the airport
with my certification in hand,
proving my place in the land of
stripes and stars.
yet, even with the blue book stamped
with the mark of a golden eagle,
i am pulled over,
and told that foreigners are to line up
on the other side.
they see my dark hair
and brown eyes.
my skin, which isn’t pale enough
to let me pass as
“one of them.”
even though the language
that comes out of my mouth is
their language,
it’s not enough
to let me belong.
so i return to
the place i grew up.
where my family and friends
wait for me; the land of
morning calm*.
this time i’m not stopped at the airport
because i blend right in.
my green book embellished with
the familiar flag
isn’t needed to prove my place.
yet, though i look and speak their language,
a word slips out in a foreign tongue, and suddenly
their gazes lose their warmth and i am once again
an alien;
an apple in a pear tree.
what do i do?
where do i go
when the two places i call
home
don’t welcome me in?
so i’ve learned to
watch myself,
adapt to my surroundings.
do whatever it takes to be
“one of them.”
but i know that deep down, i will always be
a mix of the reds, whites, and blues, on the
two different flags
that come together and become my
one home.
*South Korea is sometimes referred to as “the land of the morning calm”
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