"The Last Thing I Want"

Fresh prompts with poems by Carolina Hotchandani & Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach

Have you ever felt as though people in your life or in the world believe that you should “move on” from something that you struggle with? This might include a resentment or grudge, a loss, a missed opportunity, an ex-lover, etc. But it may also include something on a more national or global scale—inequity, war, police violence, etc.

From 1910-1945, Korea was made to be a colony of Japan. Koreans were required to speak only Japanese and were given Japanese last names. My grandparents lived through the Japanese occupation, during which they set up a small tailoring business which served both Japanese and Koreans. My grandmother, always wise and resilient, gained the favor of some Japanese women who were customers, and with one child strapped to her back and one strapped to her chest, she built a business while my grandfather served as a local fireman.

On March 1,1919, 33 Korean citizens read a Korean Declaration of Independence and engaged in mass demonstrations against Japan’s occupation of Korea. Now, Koreans celebrate the Korean Independence Movement (삼일절/Samiljeol) to mark our historic resistance to persecution and colonization.

Then, shortly after Japanese colonization ended, the Korean War began.

I will likely never understand the incredible strength that it took for my grandparents to survive with two children (including my mother) under occupation and eventually seven children, during the Korean War, a war that would divide Korea until and beyond both of their deaths. I have followed the reunification movement for many years—the movement that holds out hope that the divided peninsula of Korea will one day be reunited. Many Koreans and diasporic Koreans seem to be drifting further away from the possibility, although the Korea Institute for National Reunification continues the dialogue on this issue. I recently watched a seminar given by the Korea Society which shared public opinion polls that validated my suspicion.

Capitalism has served South Korea well. A little too well, perhaps. So well, that many of us have forgotten the price that we pay, the price North Korean citizens have paid to remain in an armistice.

What happens to those of us who can’t forget? Or refuse to forget?