Ever since North Korea suffered through the death of its first leader in 1994, a loss magnified by an economic collapse and a devastating famine, outside observers have likened the country to an airplane experiencing a serious malfunction. The major question they posed: In the end, would North Korea experience a soft landing or a catastrophic crash?

Perhaps a reformer would come along — say, a North Korean version of Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev — who could right the airship of state and guide it toward the runway of reunification with South Korea.

More direly, the North Korean regime could collapse all of a sudden, like the Communist governments in Eastern Europe in 1989. Those were relatively peaceful affairs, but North Korea’s worst-case scenarios might involve violent power struggles, the return of famine, and a free-for-all scramble for the country’s loose nukes. U.S. analysts have gamed out the consequences of just such a hard landing — and so has the Pentagon with its OPLAN 5029 — and they all add up to a tragedy not only for North Koreans and the region, but also potentially for the U.S. and the rest of the world.

The North Korean government has, however, defied such scenarios by somehow surviving, while rejecting reunification with the South and turning up its nose at conventional versions of reform. Despite additional challenges — a sustained COVID quarantine, several distinctly hostile governments in South Korea, and a flatlining economy — the regime has so far avoided collapse and, if anything, tightened its control over its population. For the time being at least, the North Korean plane evidently has no intention of landing, much less crashing.

Today, in an improbable plot twist, however, Donald Trump’s U.S. is starting to seem ever more like an aircraft in distress.

After all, the present pilot of Air America, exhibiting signs of psychosis or perhaps dementia, has begun to dismantle the cockpit under the delusion that it’s his to transform into a ballroom. The crew — and indeed much of the supporting infrastructure on the ground below — has been decimated by budget cuts. The airline itself is fast taking on debt. Many of the passengers are praying for a soft landing and hoping that, if the plane does touch down for a risky layover, they will get a new pilot.

But another fear lurks in the background.  Given the state of the airplane — a malfunctioning altimeter, compromised landing gear — it might not matter who the pilot is anymore. Air America may well be heading for a crash landing regardless of who’s in charge.

Those of us on board, gripping our armrests in terror, are asking ourselves one question above all else: is it too late to avert catastrophe?

Trump’s Totalitarian Tendencies

North Korea has come closer than any country in the modern era to building a totalitarian state. Beginning with the country’s founder, Il Sung Kim, its leadership has eliminated all oppositional politics, suppressed virtually all signs of civil society, and tolerated no freedom of the press, speech, or assembly. Nor is there any freedom of religion, unless you count the personality cult attached to the Kim family leadership, which is now in its third generation.

But all totalitarianism is aspirational. The Soviet Union had its dissidents and underground samizdat literature. The Confessing Church movement attempted faith-based resistance to the Nazis. Likewise, the North Korean government’s control over the population is not total, as can be measured by rising levels of private enterprise and covert enthusiasm for South Korean culture.

So, too, are Donald Trump’s totalitarian tendencies aspirational. He would like to achieve total control, but he’s hemmed in by institutional limits. Still, he prefers to bypass Congress with rule by executive decree. He has attempted to control the media, rein in the power of universities, and tilt the electoral playing field to benefit his party. He has aligned himself internationally not with democrats but with autocrats. He has had a particular fondness for authoritarian leaders like Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel and Javier Milei of Argentina who consolidated their power within democracies. But he has also gotten cozy with the likes of Saudi Arabia’s Mohammed bin Salman, who doesn’t bother at all with elections.

The most inexplicable friendship Trump developed while in office is certainly with North Korea’s Jong Un Kim, the founder’s grandson. Having traded escalating threats during part of Trump’s first term in office, the two leaders grew closer after several in-person meetings and a raft of exchanged letters. “I was really being tough,” Trump explained in 2018. “And so was he. And we’d go back and forth. And then we fell in love. OK? No, really.”

Really, the only way to explain such an attraction of opposites — an elected U.S. leader and the North Korean dictator — is to point out that the two distinctly have something in common: Their desire for total control. Whether intentionally or not, Trump has applied some of the features of the Kim family playbook to his own governing style. In doing so, he has also damaged, perhaps irreparably, the very idea of America.

Different Beds, Same Dreams

One of the key elements of North Korean politics is the personality cult of the Kim family, which casts a long shadow over the country’s culture. Drawn in part from northern Korea’s earlier Christian heritage — through the development of a trinity of founding figures, the 10 commandments of Kimilsungism, and pervasive themes of sacrifice and redemption — that personality cult has generated so much fervor among many North Koreans that even defectors have spoken of their pride in founder ll Sung Kim and his ideology.

Trump, too, has tried to construct such a personality cult — by placing his name on public buildings (the Kennedy Center), putting his face on U.S. coins (the semiquincentennial dollar), inserting his image in future passports, and planning a golden statue of himself at his presidential library that resembles one of Il Sung Kim in Pyongyang. So far, however, outside of the MAGA faithful, his cult seems to have generated little more than ridicule.

Another aspect of Pyongyang’s governance that probably attracts Trump is its overemphasis on the military. North Korea devotes 34 percent of its gross domestic product to military spending (compared to Russia at 6% and the U.S. at under four percent). Although it hasn’t launched any wars of its own for more than 75 years, Pyongyang has dispatched thousands of troops to help fight Russia’s war in Ukraine. Since the 1990s, the government has spoken of a songun (translated as “military first”) doctrine to justify the sacrifices needed to maintain its huge standing army, a range of missiles, and a small but significant nuclear arsenal.

Similarly, the prevailing theme of Trump’s second term has been war and military spending. Despite his once-upon-a-time promises not to become involved in “forever wars,” particularly in the Middle East, Trump joined Israel this year in an attack on Iran, a conflict that cost over $11 billion in its first week alone. He has proposed an astonishing $1.5 trillion military budget, an increase of 50 percent over last year’s already bloated total, and that sum doesn’t even include the costs of the Iran War.

Then there’s Trump’s economic thinking, if you can call it that. He has repudiated the free market orthodoxy of his fellow Republicans to embrace a form of economic nationalism: High tariff walls to reduce trade imbalances, a focus on rebuilding American manufacturing, and the repudiation of international rules of the road (like the U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea) in order to drive a dagger into economic globalization. In such respects, Trump’s approach resembles North Korea’s path of import substitution and defiance of the international rule of law.

In North Korea’s case, such an economic strategy has been partly born of necessity, given the economic embargo imposed on it after the Korean War of the early 1950s. Trump, however, is steering the U.S. economy into a tailspin without provocation. If you add together the costs associated with his kamikaze tariffs, the follow-on effects of the Iran War and boosts in military spending, the gutting of government programs investing in the economy, the watering down of environmental regulations, and reductions in government revenue because of tax cuts, Trump is guiding the U.S. toward the kind of triple whammy that hit North Korea in the 1990s, when environmental disasters and political criminality combined with rising energy prices to bring its manufacturing and agricultural sectors to a virtual halt, while killing an estimated one million people.

But, you might point out, Wall Street is still on an upward ascent. The U.S. economy is still growing, however modestly, and, while U.S. food insecurity is rising, famine isn’t on the horizon. To return to the airplane analogy, the in-flight experience has become more uncomfortable for those who can’t afford business class, but that doesn’t mean a crash is imminent.

Or does it?

A soft vs. hard landing

Whether he is consciously modeling his efforts on North Korea or not, Donald Trump wants to make an indelible imprint on the U.S. He aspires to fundamentally change the demographics of the country, the structure of the economy, and the nature of its politics. To do that, he aims to ensure that his MAGA personality cult, his anti-government crusade, and his self-defeating economic policies outlive his own tenure in office. That will certainly require a substantial dismantling of democratic safeguards given that such policies don’t attract majority support.

In other words, much as Il Sung Kim destroyed anything that could have challenged his authority — the church, the intelligentsia, landowners, rival political factions — Trump has now launched a scorched-earth policy to ensure that his successors can’t undo his damage. If the Democrats regain Congress in November and even the White House in 2028, they will inherit an enormous bill for Trump-era damages (and count on a chorus of Republican voices improbably blaming them for the disaster).

Any incoming reformers will face an uphill battle to convince the public to restore funding for infrastructure, whether green or otherwise. And they will have to deal with a terrifying erosion of faith in government, resulting from the incompetence, lies, and malpractice of the Trump administration. At the international level, U.S. allies will think twice about concluding any deals with this country, given the possibility of another political swing in subsequent elections.

Trump’s tactics, in other words, are designed to make a soft landing ever more difficult. An inveterate gambler, he is betting that his extreme approach will enable Air America to climb into the very stratosphere, even if he is far more likely to force an emergency landing.

Nightmare scenarios have long haunted American consciousness. The sheer size of the U.S. debt —  at nearly $40 trillion, it’s the highest absolute amount in the world — could put the country into receivership if the dollar slips from its status as the global currency. Default could tear apart an already polarized society. Such a hard landing could look like what analysts of North Korea have often predicted for that country.

But North Korea hasn’t collapsed. With its considerable resources, surely the U.S., too, can avoid such a scenario.

True, no one is going to make any money at Polymarket predicting the imminent fall of the Kim regime. But North Korea is not exactly following a recipe for long-term success either. Even if it limps along for another decade or two, with leadership passing to Jong Un Kim’s teenage daughter, any country that follows its policies of personality cult, autarkic economic policies, massive corruption, military-first approaches, and ruthless suppression of dissent is not likely to prosper over the long term. Just look at how Vladimir Putin has steered Russia into a terrifying nosedive.

Substantial reform could head off such a scenario for the U.S. If Trumpism can be likened to a devastating depression (which it could still precipitate), the obvious recourse for any successor would be to embark on an immediate course correction comparable to President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal. Whatever it’s called — not a Green New Deal, given the irrational resistance of a large section of the U.S. electorate to anything “green” except greenbacks — such an American renewal plan would need to restructure the U.S. economy to favor the bulk of American workers rather than the current generation of robber barons. Implemented with a much better promotional campaign — led perhaps by future Chief of Reconstruction (and now New York Mayor) Zohran Mamdani — it would link concrete benefits to identifiable government programs and services. It would offer a striking real-life illustration of your tax dollars at work.

Such a reform plan would have to restore trust in government by punishing corruption, enlisting the public as watchdogs, and taxing the super-wealthy into semi-submission. By shifting away from war and aggressive military spending, such a project of renewal would also have to work with partners overseas to promote policies of cooperative prosperity and sustainability in order to restore a measure of trust in U.S. actions globally. Soft landings require soft power, leaving hard power to those determined to crash and burn.

The North Korean case is a reminder that awful policies may not, by themselves, precipitate collapse. Trumpism will not go away simply because it is on the verge of winning multiple Darwin Awards for its counter-evolutionary policies. Having hijacked American democracy, Trump and his cronies are under the impression that they are flying ever upwards, but they have not been blessed with a good sense of direction. Sheer inertia could keep Air America in the air — though with steadily deteriorating conditions on board (as in North Korea). Such a “MAGA ‘til we drop” option would not be much of an improvement over a hard landing.

In 2016, arch-conservative Michael Anton published a piece in the Claremont Review of Books arguing that it was Hillary Clinton and the Democrats who had hijacked America. In “The Flight 93 Election,” Anton imagined that Trump, aided by an energized electorate, could rush the cockpit — just like the passengers on Flight 93, hijacked on September 11, 2001 — and save the country. (It was certainly an infelicitous analogy, given that Flight 93 crashed into a field in Pennsylvania.) Trump’s 2016 victory, however, turned Anton into a dark prophet and vaulted him into the subsequent administration, despite (or because of) the absurdities of his arguments.

In yet another stomach-churning reversal, Anton’s analogy has now finally become all too applicable. Trump has gained the cockpit not once but twice. Having failed to crash Air America the first time around, he seems determined to put his Flight 93 doctrine of heroic self-destruction into practice today. There is no guarantee that a hard landing can be avoided either now or after his departure from office. But this country, its egalitarian ideals, and its democratic traditions (if not much of its dismal history) are certainly worth fighting for.

We’re losing altitude fast. Elections approach.

Let’s roll.

The post What can North Korea tell us about America’s future? appeared first on Korean Quarterly.

On Monday, the people of Korea got a national holiday. No work. No school. No rush hour traffic and and no packed subways with people scrambling to get to their offices. Just a nice long weekend as the weather turns beautiful. Sun. Mountains. And iced coffee. And it’s all for Buddha’s Birthday — or more literally Bucheonim osin nal, meaning “the day when the Buddha came.”

During my time here, I’ve come to understand how Buddhism, Confucianism, and Taoism differ from the monotheistic faiths back home. With things like Christianity and Islam, there’s a god. And you believe in that god. People, of course, have varying degrees of belief, and this waxes and wanes during their lives. But ultimately, a person’s association with a religion is defined by the individual’s belief. It creates a dichotomy. You either believe or you don’t. You can’t really be a Christian and a Muslim because that would be to believe in two different stories, and your belief in one would go some way to discredit your belief in the other (generally, of course).

But East Asian worldviews are more like philosophy than religion. They function as a path — a course of action rather than a series of commandments to be adhered to. They are social, earthly, and pragmatic rather than transcendental and divine. They help you get through the life you are living right now rather than promise angels and virgins in the next.

So when you see Korean people at Buddhist temples, it doesn’t mean they are all devout believers of Buddhism. Many just go there because it looks nice, or because it’s a public holiday. Because you can take nice photos. Reflect on the past. Slow down. Forget capitalism and politics for a few hours. Spend time with your kids. It’s the same way that people go to art museums and exhibitions. The people in an art museum are generally not devout Monet-ists or Van Gogh-ians. They just want to try something aesthetic and cultural that day because they think it will be good for them. That’s how Buddhism works here. It’s a tool you use to navigate daily life. 

Another way it differs from monotheistic religions is that it doesn’t really suggest that there are celestial and eternal beings coming to give us guidance. Buddhism’s teachings do not come from the sky, from a burning bush, or from a prophet who had the good fortune to one day be visited by the most powerful being in the universe. Buddhist teachings come from us: They come from people like you and me. 

The people

Siddhartha Gautama, most commonly referred to as the Buddha, was a prince. Shielded from the outside world by his father, he spent his youth surrounded by privilege, unaware of human suffering. Confronted by the realities of aging, sickness, and death, he abandoned his royal life at age 29 to find an escape from suffering. After years of extreme asceticism failed to relieve his suffering, he discovered the Middle Way, the guiding path of the religion, and achieved Nirvana (enlightenment) beneath a Bodhi tree, becoming the Buddha. His name means the “awakened one” – the human who through deep reflection and meditation learned how to best navigate this existence. According to early Buddhist texts, when people met him after his enlightenment, they were often struck by his peace and would ask him, “Are you a god? A wizard? An angel?”

He simply replied: “No. I am awake.”

The Buddha did not claim to be a god, a prophet, or a savior. He viewed himself as a physician for the mind, offering a practical framework for individuals to wake up to reality and find peace through their own effort.

That was a huge revelation to me. From the outside, Buddhism seemed so spiritual. So full of temples and incense. The idea of ghosts and genies, of magic, and all other orientalist tropes filled my mind with mystery. And then I realized none of that really existed in Buddhism. It was all about me, my mind, and dealing with mental health. 

I mean, that’s pretty damn modern. It is probably why so many young people are drawn to it these days. Not only does it not proselytize, it seeks to help them with the thing they are struggling with the most. 

Buddhism also teaches us that things are not yet complete. We still have suffering in the world. People still experience great pain and devastation. And, if we’re being honest, some of the world is reeling from the bombs of war as two monotheistic belief systems lay claim to land. We are waiting for new teachings. And, again, it won’t come from god or the sky. It will be one of us. One of us humans here on Earth will have to wake up and see what’s really going on. The next Buddha might be you. 

The circle

But how does one become a Buddha? Obviously that’s very difficult. But there is a practice. In Korea, this will sometimes revolve around a hwadu (a question given to people designed to promote mental strength and, hopefully, enlightenment). 

Take the famous hwadu of the goose in the bottle.

The premise is simple, like a riddle designed by a surrealist. A man puts a tiny goose inside a glass bottle. He feeds it and cares for it every day. The goose grows and grows until it completely fills the inside of the vessel. It can no longer get out. Now, the challenge: How do you get the goose out of the bottle without killing the goose, and without breaking the glass?

When you first hear this, your modern, rational brain immediately thinks about physics, lubricants, or maybe some bizarre lateral-thinking puzzle trick. My initial response was to use water! Then you look for a loophole in the rules. But a hwadu isn’t a logic puzzle. It’s a cognitive trap. Specifically designed to run your intellect into a brick wall until it collapses from exhaustion. And then you can hopefully see what’s really going on. 

I once heard a teacher say, “How do we know we’re not already in heaven and making a mess of it?” That blew my mind. Because I knew all the ideas of utopias, of everlasting happiness, and of the faraway lands replete in literature and film that talk of promise. But here was the idea that we are there right now. We just can’t see it. 

Maybe the story of the tigers and the strawberry will help you. 

A man is walking across a field when he suddenly spots a tiger running toward him. He races to the edge of a steep cliff, grabs hold of a vine and swings himself over the edge. He looks up. The tiger is at the top of the cliff. The man looks down to see if he can drop to safety. At the bottom, a second tiger waits. He is trapped.

Then, he hears a faint scratching sound. Two mice (one white, one black) are slowly chewing through the very vine he is hanging from. His strength is giving out. The vine is fraying. Death is absolute, certain, and immediate.

Then he notices a tiny wild strawberry growing out of a crevice just a few inches from his face. It’s ripe, red, and glistening with morning dew. He takes the strawberry, and puts it into his mouth. How sweet it tastes!

Now this story isn’t about a guy on a cliff. It’s a diagnostic map of our daily lives. Most of us spend our entire lives on that vine. We look up in panic at what we’ve done, or we look down in terror at what might happen next. We let the hyper-capitalist hustle, the political dread, and the sheer weight of existence paralyze us. We are so busy worrying about the tigers that we completely ignore the strawberry right in front of us.

Buddhism doesn’t promise to shoot the tigers for you. It doesn’t magically repair the vine. The human condition is inherently fragile, and the tigers aren’t going anywhere.

What the story suggests, however, is a radical shift in attention. It tells us that the past is gone, the future is an abyss, and the only thing that actually exists, the only thing that is real, is this exact, fleeting second. Kung Fu Panda was right!

The strawberry is that sip of iced coffee on a sunny Monday morning. It’s the sound of your kids laughing. It’s the aesthetic beauty of a painting, or the peacefulness of a quiet walk in the mountains. Even in a world filled with structural chaos, suffering, and a fraying vine, you still have the agency to reach out, notice the present moment, and realize how sweet it tastes.

That’s what we do together this Monday. 

The post Searching for the Korean Buddha appeared first on Korean Quarterly.

The lives of people as glimpsed through their interactions in a convenience store is the unlikely backdrop for the powerful play, Kim’s Convenience.  The play swept across Canada and the U.S. before getting a new life as a popular TV show that lasted five seasons, and now available on Netflix.

A recent performance of Kim’s Convenience, staged at The Studio Theatre Tierra del Sol (The Villages, Florida,) was an opportunity to revisit this well-loved play that became a classic more than 20 years ago, due to its enduring themes of family, generational differences and bonding, and the immigrant story.

Kim’s Convenience was birthed as a play by Insub “Ins” Choi, who is known mainly for his television acting career and for his television script writing.  Born in Korea, Choi grew up in Toronto and still lives there.  He was also the scriptwriter for Kim’s Convenience television show that aired on the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) network,and eventually picked up by Netflix.  As recently as fall 2025, Choi appeared in the role of Appa (Korean for “dad”) in the play version.

The story follows a Korean Canadian family who run a convenience store in Toronto.  It captures the humorous and touching rhythms of the Kims’ daily life as they navigate generational clashes, cultural identity, and the immigrant experience.  Appa and Umma manage the store, while the adult children, Janet and Jung, forge their own paths.  The play blends sharp wit with explorations of reconciliation, pride, and community.

The five principal cast members included Appa (Song Kim), Umma (Saja Choi), Jung (Ian Kim), Janet (Juyeon Song), and Rich / Mr. Lee / Mike / Alex / Others (Prentice Myles).  Understudies included) Brian Jose (Appa, Mona Lim (Umma), and Sage Kim (Janet).  The production and design team also deserve special recognition for their outstanding work.

From start to finish, the performance was humorous, dramatic, riveting, and deeply relatable.  Song Kim, who carried much of the dialogue as Appa, delivered a commanding performance.  He said his own father inspired him, and that he has often “skewed” toward older roles.

The story was affecting on a personal level.  As our own father approaches the final chapter of his life, the struggles of the father character had special meaning.  The themes of generational tension, pride, stubbornness, and unspoken love struck close to home, leaving us reflective and emotional.

Saja Choi delivered a warm, grounded portrayal of Umma.  Several lines were in Korean, adding depth and authenticity without detracting from the story.  Her performance conveyed the mother’s humor, wisdom, and quiet strength.  Choi brought the character to life, making the cultural and emotional layers of Umma accessible to the audience while honoring the Korean heritage at the heart of the play.

Juyeon Song’s portrayal of Janet was equally compelling.  She noted that she “found herself very different from her dad” as a character, making her emotional exchanges with Appa vivid.  Song said she sought to bring a “breath of fresh air” to the argument scenes, heightening the  realism and tension.

Ian Kim, as the son Jung, drew from his personal experience immigrating to the U.S. at age 11.  “I felt very close to my Mom,” he said, reflecting on the authenticity and emotional resonance he brought to the role. He also noted that he remembers challenges of adapting to American life that mirror the character Jung’s struggles.

Myles demonstrated versatility in portraying multiple characters with range, discipline, and precision. Myles’ and other actors’ use of a dialect coach enhanced the authenticity of each role.

Understudy Lim said that this production was deeply personal and transformative for her.  Humorously noting that she was “the only Korean who didn’t speak Korean,” she embraced the challenge.  Lim reflected, “I relate to Janet as an artist and Jung as someone who fell far short of what her parents envisioned for her.  I also see Appa and Umma in my own parents.”  She added, “I am also a Yale dropout who never finished school and, not only did I not become a doctor, but I ended up finally pursuing acting (for real) in 2023.  Art was not a valid career choice for my parents, who understandably — having been war refugees — wanted us to build financially stable lives.”  This sentiment was echoed in the play, in how Appa downplayed Janet’s career choice to be a photographer.

Sage Kim, the understudy for Janet, said she was privileged to take on the role in two performances when Song recovered from an injured ankle.  Stepping into a principal role on short notice is never easy, and Kim brought her own energy and interpretation while honoring Song’s vision.

Brian Jose also faced a unique challenge as an understudy for Appa.  As a Filipino, he was challenged to act and sound like a Korean immigrant, but he learned the Korean dialogue and mastered the accent, even paying attention to cultural nuance.  This level of dedication mirrored the broader immigrant experience of having to adapt and immerse oneself in a new culture, which requires learning, flexibility, and respect for heritage.

Lim, Sage Kim and Jose exemplify the vital role understudies play in preserving the integrity and continuity of a production, often collaborating as a team to execute performances under high pressure to help the production succeed.

This production was directed by Yong Suk Yoo, whose thoughtful leadership shaped a performance that was both intimate and culturally grounded.

The director wrote in the program that his intent was not “to replicate the familiar narratives offered by its television adaptation, but to return to and amplify the theatrical and emotional core of Ins Choi’s original play.  This work was conceived as a stage exploration of a Korean immigrant family’s life in Toronto — a life shaped by survival, affection, conflict, and transformation within shifting socio-cultural landscapes. “

What holds this story together is not just its cultural specificity, but its emotional truth — something that resonates with anyone who has ever navigated the gaps of generations, languages, or family expectations.

Beyond the performances, the technical production elements significantly elevated the storytelling.  The set design was remarkably authentic.  The marketplace felt like a functioning neighborhood convenience store, complete with recognizable American brands such as Cheerios, Tide, Gatorade, Listerine, and Kleenex.  The set grounded the story in everyday life and strengthened the audience’s connection to the Kim family’s world.

The lighting design was equally effective.  During transitions, the stage occasionally went completely dark, creating brief suspense as actors navigated unseen.  One particularly symbolic moment featured a spotlight shared between Umma and the son, Jung, visually emphasizing both the emotional distance and enduring bond between them.  The final fade-out left the audience in reflective silence, creating a poignant closing image.

The choreography and blocking made full use of the stage and auditorium.  Characters entered and exited from unexpected areas, dissolving the traditional boundary between performers and audience, and allowing a more immersive theatrical experience.

Sound design also played a meaningful role.  The ambient use of radio provided a culturally grounding element, while Umma’s singing added a subtle, almost dreamlike quality that distinguished certain emotional moments.  These artistic choices enhanced the atmosphere without overwhelming the story.

Costuming was thoughtfully curated and never distracting.  Prentice’s wide variety of costumes underscored the chameleon nature of his multiple roles; at times, it was difficult to believe the same actor portrayed so many characters.  The use of the storefront windows was clever, suggesting a street and parking lot just beyond the stage.

A stage production about the Korean experience is rare, particularly in a predominantly white community like The Villages, Florida.  Asian stories — particularly stories about Korean Americans —  are still underrepresented in American theatre.  Kim’s Convenience also has many universal themes of realities that all immigrants (including adoptees) face, including struggles with cultural identity, racism, and intergenerational conflict.

As Jose noted, “Asian stories can be universal.  We’ve been seeing ourselves in white stories for decades relating to situations in their culture, so to have the reverse in this rare opportunity is so important, and even more important that it is a white audience to see themselves reflected on stage.”

Lim also reflected on her personal growth: “The friends I have made on this show, what I’ve learned about being Korean American, the pride and connection I now have, not just to my heritage, but to other Asian artists…  All these things are priceless to me beyond measure.”

Ultimately, this production of Kim’s Convenience was more than entertainment.  It was a meaningful cultural experience, reminding audiences that while cultures may differ, the themes of family, identity, struggle, forgiveness, and reconciliation are universal.

The post Life viewed from a storefront appeared first on Korean Quarterly.

The Kremlin can count on only one real ally in its war in Ukraine. Belarus has offered its territory for the staging of the war, and China has provided some dual-use exports that certainly contribute to the war effort. But only one country has sent a significant number of troops to fight alongside the Russians: North Korea.

Today, about 10,000 North Korean combat troops are stationed in Kursk — along with another 1,000 engineer troops — to protect this western-most city from another Ukrainian incursion and to free up Russian troops to participate in offensive operations inside Ukraine. Another 6,000 North Korean soldiers were killed or injured in previous fighting.

Earlier this year, North Korean leader Jong Un Kim cut a ribbon on a new housing district dedicated to the families of those killed in the Russian war in Ukraine. Recently, at the inauguration of a memorial in Pyongyang to the fallen, Kim celebrated a “new history of friendship with Russia written in blood.” North Korea’s relationship with China was previously celebrated to be “as close as lips and teeth.” But blood goes deeper still.

North Korea also continues to supply Russia with millions of rounds of ammunition — artillery shells, anti-tank rockets, and short-range ballistic missiles. According to Ukrainian estimates, this has amounted to as much as half of what Russian is using in its war. North Korea is certainly supplying quantity, but it’s not necessarily quality. In 2024, one Ukrainian military official estimated that half of the shells North Korea was supplying were duds. No matter: As Russia’s use of its own soldiers as cannon fodder suggests, the Kremlin prefers quantity over quality.

It is telling that Russia, at its time of need, must rely on a country as poor and isolated as North Korea. But what other choices does Russia have?

Some Russian allies have disappeared, like the Bashar al-Assad regime in Syria, or have been co-opted by the U.S., like the government of Delcy Rodriguez in Venezuela. Other allies haven’t been able to count on Russia, so they haven’t been able to offer much in turn. Iran, for instance, has been receiving some intelligence from the Kremlin during its war with the U.S. and Israel. But aside from some drones, Russia hasn’t sent its ally significant hardware, much less Russian warships full of soldiers.

Russia is at the center of the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) — a post-Soviet alliance that also includes Armenia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan — but the group has provided little in the way of assistance even though the CSTO has a mutual defense clause comparable to the North American Treaty Organization’s (NATO’s) Article Five. It’s no surprise that none of these countries has sent troops to assist in Russia’s war. After all, Russia didn’t come to Armenia’s aid when Azerbaijan took over Nagorno-Karabakh in 2023. Armenia has boycotted meetings of the organization ever since.

It’s not as if Russia lacks ways of enticing potential allies. Russian fossil fuel exports have become especially attractive as the war with Iran has bottled up other supplies in the Strait of Hormuz. But these exports have been monopolized by China and India, which have been taking in about 80 percent of Russia’s oil. Also, drone attacks by Ukraine have reduced Russia’s capacity to export its fossil fuels.

Russia also supplies the world with military hardware. In 2024, it fell to third place in arms exports behind the U.S. and France, largely because of the requirements of the war in Ukraine. Recently, however, the Kremlin has claimed that it has bounced back by exporting $15 billion worth of weapons in 2025, mostly to Africa and the Middle East. This is still a far cry from U.S. military exports of over $330 billion. But it suggests that Russia is trying to profit in some way from its otherwise disastrous war in Ukraine.

India and Russia have a new military pact, which allows them to station troops, warships, and fighter jets in each other’s countries. This agreement provides Russia with important access to the Indian Ocean. But it doesn’t mean Indian troops are heading to Ukraine. In fact, the only Indians who have fought on behalf of Russia have been tricked into doing so by the Kremlin. And one of the reasons Russian military exports experienced such a major drop, even before the war in Ukraine began, is that clients like India have diversified their imports away from dependency on the Kremlin.

China’s assistance to Russia has been more complicated. In addition to the energy purchases, China is helping Russia by providing up to 90 percent of the country’s high-tech needs. Shut out of U.S. and European markets, Russia relies on China for drone components, machine tools, batteries and fiberoptic systems.

But China is not providing Russia with enough to tip the balance of the war in its favor. Russia, like North Korea, remains something of a liability for China. While Pyongyang is unreliable because of its nuclear program and cyber operations, Russia is unreliable in its willingness to upend international law in the pursuit of its territorial ambitions.

China, above all, wants stability. And it wants to maintain good relations with the West. The unpredictable actions of Russia and North Korea threaten the global infrastructure that contributes to Chinese growth and prosperity.

This, then, is what unites Russia and North Korea. They are both disgusted with the West, with liberalism, and with any aspect of international law that constrains their freedom of movement, whether it’s human rights conventions or rules governing maritime commerce.

This is something relatively new for Russia. Under Putin, Russia initially flirted with the U.S. and established a solid energy relationship with Europe. Now, under Western sanctions, it has become a great deal more like North Korea: Solidly military-first, increasingly authoritarian and repressive, economically autarkic, and suspicious of technologies, like Telegram, that might magnify civic discontent.

The current reign of Donald Trump, an American leader who favors autocrats over democrats, might indicate that this Russian-North Korean model of governance is on the upswing.

But even Trump’s apparent affection for both Putin and Kim can’t make up for the fact that the economies of North Korea and Russia are struggling, that their respective personality cults are showing some cracks, and that the war in Ukraine is not currently going in their favor, with Russia losing territory to Ukraine in April for the first time since 2024.

Russia and North Korea are moving ever closer to each other largely because they don’t have a lot of choice in the matter. Even blood oaths cannot make up for the fact that their alliance is one of desperation, not inspiration.

Originally published in Hankyoreh.

The post Russia and North Korea: An alliance of desperation appeared first on Korean Quarterly.

A runaway teen navigates an indifferent Seoul during the 2008 recession

(Bloomsbury Publishing, New York, 2026, ISBN #978-1-6397-3740-6)

Reviewed by Alice Stephens (Spring 2026)

After enduring decades of Japanese colonialism followed by a devastating civil war, South Korea rose from the ashes, acclaimed as “the miracle on the Han River” for its explosive economic development. But this success has come at a terrible price. The nation today has the lowest birthrate in the world and one of the highest suicide rates. The crushing requirements of unfettered economic growth are fraying familial and civic ties, leaving South Koreans on the precipice.

Che Yeun’s debut novel, Tailbone, depicts this precipice through the first-person lens of an unnamed teenager struggling to survive the global recession of 2008. In her final year of high school, her grades plummet, and she drops out. There is no refuge at home. After losing his managerial job during the financial crisis of 1997, her father toils as an underling to much younger bosses, spending his nights pouring drinks for them, returning home drunk and angry to take out his frustration on his wife. The girl despises her mother for her weakness, hating her acquiescence to her father’s abuse and to her sad and lonely life.

One sticky summer day, the girl runs away from home and rents a room in a women’s boardinghouse where the only rule is no smoking and the stairwells are strewn with cigarette butts. The boardinghouse is in a decaying, dead-end Seoul alley, with neighbors who illegally dump their garbage on each other’s property.

Even the landlady warns her away: “None of you girls should be living here. I would rip out my eyes if I knew my daughter was living like this.”

The girl finds a role model in Juju, a woman who is approaching 30 and, along with the rest of the boarders:

dated old desperate idiot men to feed their hunger for pretty things. When the hunger grew, they added new idiot creeps to their contact lists on their phones. When even that wasn’t enough, they fooled around with credit cards and payday loans. As the bills mounted, they hunted down even more lonely idiot creeps to settle their accounts for them.

From her blonde dye-job to her tinted contact lenses to her surgically-enhanced bust, Juju is a do-it-yourself Frankenstein’s monster. Like that doomed creature, she is desperate for human love, which she thinks she has found with Min, who drives a flashy car, wears fancy suits, and is engaged to a woman from a wealthy family.

Juju shows the girl how to apply for loans under the protagonist’s mother’s name. When she suggests using her father’s name instead, Juju advises, “Always go with mothers… Mothers comply. Even after they find out you’ve thrown them into debt, they just quietly accept the situation and pay off the loan themselves. Mothers don’t call the police or fight back.”

With her ill-gotten gains, the girl blows her money on junk food, makeup, and cigarettes. Free to be an “irresponsible selfish slob,” she fritters her days away, eating corn dogs, dyeing her hair, and aimlessly riding the metro. On a train, an older man asks her if she’s being sex-trafficked. “We really used to be a country full of girls like that,” he tells her. “Sold all over the country… That’s how poor they used to be. How poor we all used to be. Before the war and after. But all that’s gone now. Now it’s just girls like you, healthy and educated and sure and lazy. That’s what happens when you’re free to go anywhere you want.” Despite South Korea’s hard-won prosperity, women are still selling their bodies to survive.

The only path out that the protagonist can imagine is to become a flight attendant. She imagines that, as a flight attendant, she might find a rich man and trap him into marriage, or at least be kept in a nice apartment. But she can’t afford the tuition for the training, and Juju tells her she’s too short, anyway. A departing boarder has left behind a flight-attendant uniform, which she wears around town as a status symbol, basking in the looks of admiration it garners. She also wears it when she engages in sex work for the first time.

When she returns home with the cash she has just earned, her mother refuses her money and turns her away:

After you left, the house got quiet. That’s when I realized, you were such a loud child. Not your mouth. But your whole body was loud. Everything you needed was screaming at me all the time. A respectable family. A nice bed. A cozy dinner. We never got you that digital camera. There was too much I couldn’t give you.

Through the blunt yet incisive narrative of one teenage girl, Tailbone presents a frightening portrait of a nation whose rapid economic success was achieved at the cost of rapid social disintegration. A society built on relentless competition means that close bonds — between women, romantic partners, and even parents and children — are tested to the breaking point. Yeun’s bleak and all-too-plausible novel warns us that at the bottom of South Korea’s precipice yawns a very dark abyss.

Reprinted with permission from the Washington Independent Review of Books 

The post The terrible price of colonialism appeared first on Korean Quarterly.

In an atmosphere of fear about the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) operations in Minnesota, there are only a few legal experts who can authoritatively refute the rumors, call out the illegal and misapplied policies, and provide help with immigration law.  One of these experts is attorney Greg Luce, who specializes in issues affecting intercountry adoptees. 

Luce spoke about his adoptees-only legal practice during an informational fundraising event at Arbeiter Brewing in Minneapolis, targeted to adoptees and their families and allies. His talk centered on legal remedies for intercountry adoptee adults who, for various reasons, do not have citizenship.

Kira Siegler, president of the co-sponsoring organization AK Connection, introduced the topic and its pertinence to Korean adoptees, particularly Twin Citians who have suffered through the recent Operation Metro Surge sweep of the Twin Cities area (and other locations in Minnesota). It has been a traumatizing time for Korean adoptees, she said. “Our lives have already been shaped by being moved from one country to another, as babies or children, and without having any say.”

With the recent ICE surge as a backdrop, Siegler said, “Today is really a day of naming that reality, understanding it, and knowing what we can do to protect each other, ourselves, and our communities. Resources, education and community are more important than ever before.”  The event was also intended to reassure intercountry adoptees “who feel invisible in conversations about immigration issues, although our community is also affected,” she added.

Trauma for Minnesotans

An estimated 3,700 people were arrested and detained during the Minnesota surge, but only 24 percent had any criminal record, and a fraction of those had any pending criminal offense, according to statistics released in March by the Deportation Data Project.  An analysis of available data by Sahan Journal showed that 70 Minnesota children were among the detainees, with some sent out of state for detention.

A (yet unknown) number of detainees were citizens, including demonstrators and observers arrested ostensibly for being in the way of (or in the vicinity of) ICE activities, or for being non-white and looking like an immigrant. Anecdotally, Korean Quarterly has learned that least three adult (citizen) intercountry adoptees were among those detained by ICE agents and later released.

The March event was co-sponsored by AK Connection, a non-profit organization by and about adult adopted Koreans in the Twin Cities area, and the national non-profit group Adoptees United. Proceeds benefitted Adoptees United, which covers certain costs related to citizenship-related expenses and provides informational outreach about adoptees’ rights and adoptee citizenship. Adoptees United also supports adoptee advocacy, related to both immigration issues and access to adoption records.

A law practice by and for adoptees

Luce started his practice, the Adoptee Rights Law Center, in 2016, and the non-profit Adoptees United in 2019.  He began the practice, he related, after having legal problems getting his own adoption records in Washington, DC, where he was adopted and brought up.  His initial idea was to specialize in adoptee records access and to do advocacy for adoptee rights.  He credits his wife with supporting the idea and supplying almost all of their income, which allows him do low cost or pro bono (free) work in his adoptee-centric practice and later, to establish and develop the Adoptees United organization.

He was surprised at first, he said, to find out that citizenship was such a big legal issue for the intercountry adoptees he met.  To meet that demand, Adoptees United developed the Citizenship Clinic, to provide structure, education, and representation for adoptees seeking legal help to obtain citizenship. Except for certain fees and costs of doing its business, the Citizenship Clinic provides legal assistance on a pro bono basis.

He said he wanted, as much as possible to “take the money out of the equation” so that no intercountry adoptee would have to delay getting citizenship because of cost. “The money raises expectations on both sides.  It interferes and also creates barriers for some people who maybe could afford it, but put it off.  People really just need to get it done,” he said. “I really think there should be no financial barrier at all.”

His belief in making legal help more accessible began when he worked for a legal aid organization on tenant rights and avoiding eviction; he quickly learned how crucial the timing can be.  He is also personally motivated to be of use to fellow adoptees, and “I really love what I do,” he said.

The organizational structure allows Luce to represent those who might otherwise risk the delay of obtaining citizenship. There is also a pay-it-forward tradition; clients who can afford it often later donate to Adoptees United to defray the costs for others, he said.

Particularly in the last year, Luce said, he has been overwhelmed with cases of adoptees whose citizenship was never finalized.  His caseload as of March 15 included 215 active and 195 closed cases, a lot for one attorney.  Recent stringent federal enforcement has has heightened concern about immigration status, Luce said, and the number of new clients reflects this.  

Becky Hanson, a Korean adoptee from St. Paul, told the group how the Citizenship Clinic, and Luce specifically, helped her obtain her own adoption records.  Hanson said she was nervous about  immigration enforcement back in 2024 even though she is a citizen and has her documentation.

She got all her paperwork together “because information is power and it is another way to add a layer of protection for yourself.”  She appreciated the monthly meetings Luce held in 2024 and 2025 because he provided both expertise and reassurance at an uncertain time. Luce also helped Hanson submit a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request to obtain her adoption records after she was unsuccessful in getting them on her own.

Luce briefed the audience of mostly Korean adoptees and their family members, friends and allies on why some adult intercountry adoptees are still not citizens, and some of the legal remedies to correct that.

 In recent years, he has taken on more adoptee immigration issues because of greater demand. At the same time, there was less demand for his records access services for domestic adoptees. Getting adoption record has become easier in most states, and more would-be clients can navigate obtaining records on their own, he said.

In part, he said, the impetus to expand citizenship-related legal help was motivated by a rule change by the the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) to exempt adoptees from the $1,200 filing fee for the citizenship application. Adoptees can apply free now, and “we thought that if we remove the cost of legal, then we have removed the financial barrier to adoptees gaining citizenship.”

There were very few citizenship clients at first, but after November 4, 2024 (the day Trump was elected for a second term) “there were a skyrocketing number of clients very concerned about not having the right immigration documents, especially the citizenship certificate.” Fortunately, he said, at Adoptees United, they had also been anticipating a higher influx of non-citizen adoptees, and had put the Citizenship Clinic structure in place to screen potential clients and efficiently receive them if the applicants’ needs fit the services they can offer.

The role of states in supporting adoptee rights

There are still many states where adoptees have difficulty obtaining their own records. Luce, who is licensed to practice in Minnesota, has been advocating for a Minnesota bill to allow adoptees to get their own adoption records upon request, without a court order.

The Adoptees United website urges voter support for the bill. This bill died in committee during the recent legislative session, but will be reintroduced in the 2027-2028 session.  The bill, which Luce wrote, revises an existing law.  Adoptees often need to obtain their records, he said, and the requirement for a court order serves no purpose, and is slow.  In particular, non-citizen intercountry adoptees routinely need their adoption records to apply for permanent residency or citizenship, Luce explained.

Immigration law and adoptee numbers

Luce trained himself in immigration law, which he calls “one of the most complex law specialties,” realizing quickly that there were “many gaps in the law that leave intercountry adoptees without citizenship.”  

When he first started working in adoptee citizenship, Luce said, he researched how many U.S. intercountry adoptees there are, both for his own use in the law practice and to provide documentation to Adoptees United for future grants or lobbying. There was no single source of reliable data. He began with a paper database of U.S. entry visas for intercountry adoptees from 1972 to 1999. Later, he was able to add other data from before 1972 and after 1999, and up to 2023 for some countries.

South Korea, with (at least) 114,472  U.S. intercountry adoptees (by Luce’s estimate), sent the most adoptees to the U.S. in total. The other main sending countries include Russia, China, Russia, Guatemala, Ethiopia and Columbia.

Luce’s total comes to 503,596 intercountry adoptees admitted to the U.S. from 15 countries, which is “probably fewer than the real number, because it counts only those with entry visas.  A lot of adoptees also came with tourist visas,” he said.

Why some adoptees are not citizens

Luce detailed why some intercountry adoptees don’t have citizenship. The main reason is inadequate laws. Despite some efforts over the years, the accumulated web of laws and policies related to intercountry adoptee citizenship still does not ensure that all adoptees are citizens.  

An existing bill, when passed, would supersede current law and make all intercountry adoptees citizens. However, Congress has delayed for many years passing such a bill. This bill, formerly called the Adoptee Citizenship Act, now known as the Protect Adoptees and American Families (PAAF) Act, would provide automatic citizenship for all intercountry adoptees (in the future and retroactively), including those who have  been deported.

Luce pointed out that adoptee citizenship is a much simpler issue than the larger immigration reform agenda, but the debate around immigration has muddied it, causing the bill that would correct adoptee citizenship to be delayed many times. Intercountry adoptees are not just another immigrant group; they are a unique group of people who were children when they legally entered the U.S., whose new families intended them to be citizens, he explained.  A clearer, and less political categorization of adoptee citizenship would be to re-brand it more neutrally as “a family policy issue,” Luce added.

Luce also detailed the Child Citizenship Act (CCA), a confusing stopgap bill that became law in 2001. The law gave automatic citizenship to intercountry adoptees who were younger than 18 as of February 27, 2001. “That means Child Citizenship Act has given thousands of adoptees citizenship, but also denies thousands citizenship,” he explained.

The CCA leaves out an estimated 75,000 intercountry adoptees who were age 18 or older on February 27, 2001. “These people are vulnerable to not being a U.S. citizen and may just have a green card,” he said.  (Most intercountry adoptees who have been deported were permanent residency (green card) holders who had also been convicted of a felony crime.)   

In all his digging to find statistics on the demographics and numbers of intercountry adoptees, there is still no count of how many are not citizens. Organizations lobbying for adoptee citizenship have guessed at around 10 percent. 

A legal loophole

There is another “huge loophole” in the CCA, “that shows how problematic current immigration law is for intercountry adoptees, is that if you are not in custody of your U.S. citizen parents after February 27, 2001, you did not receive automatic citizenship,” Luce said. 

Luce related that one of his clients was removed from the home in the late ‘90s because of abuse by the adoptive parents. That client lost the chance for citizenship because of the CCA, he pointed out.  “These are very complex cases, and there are not many of them, but this is just to show that there are other reasons beyond age that are preventing people from becoming citizens,” he said.

Exceptions to the rule

Most clients of the Adoptee Rights Law Center are intercountry adoptees who have documentation of admission to the U.S., and proof of their legal adoption.  There are some exceptions. Luce explained a few unique citizenship situations he has encountered.

One adoptee was admitted on a humanitarian visa after the 2010 earthquake in Haiti, but the adoptive parents never secured a green card through the Help Haiti Act. Another client arrived from Iran on a visitor visa (which expires after a few months), and was adopted in state court. One arrived on a tourist visa with a missionary family after being adopted in a South American country.  A Mexican adoptee was admitted to the U.S. when the family was “waved through” the car checkpoint between Mexico to the U.S. Luce said he also had one client for whom there were no records of the person ever being admitted into the U.S. and no record of legal adoption.

One memorable client, originally from Haiti, arrived in 1993 for medical treatment on a humanitarian visa, Luce recalled.  “She was later adopted by citizen parents, the parents did not take care of [her citizenship process], and therefore she does not have lawful status,” he said. “We got her temporary protective status and they [the Trump Administration] are in the process of terminating that now.”

“Even with lots of advice from me and other attorneys,” Luce said, “she is the main plaintiff in the case going before the Supreme Court to force Trump to maintain temporary protected status. The courage for her to go out there and do that is amazing.”

That plaintiff contends that the U.S. government should not be able to cancel temporary protective status, since that status is intended for groups who, by definition, have already demonstrated that it would be dangerous for them to return to their country of origin. The woman does not have any known family there and has not been back to Haiti since she was removed from the country at age three, he added.  

“They [theTrump administration] have her information and would be able to retaliate against her, obviously,” he said. The outcome of this case could have a significant ripple effect on Trump’s attempts to revoke temporary protected status of other immigrant groups.

Older intercountry adoptees are at the most risk

Since the CCA became law, intercountry adoptees who were adopted in the U.S.  (rather than in their country of origin by U.S. parents) become citizens automatically when their adoption is finalized.  Therefore, the most vulnerable intercountry adoptee group are those who were age 18 and older on February 26, 2001. Before that date, the citizenship filing was a separate court process, and if adoptive parents were ignorant of it, forgot about it, lost legal custody of their child, or became incapacitated or died during the adoptee’s childhood, their child may have become a legal adult without citizenship.

Another vulnerable group is any intercountry adoptee whose adoption was never finalized, since the CCA specifies that citizenship is conferred only on those whose adoptions were final before they were age 18. “These are very complex, because you can’t fix that – you can’t fix the fact that they were never adopted,” he remarked.

The specter of denaturalization

Trump and his DHS officials have talked publicly of “denaturalization” (stripping citizens of their citizenship) as a deportation tactic.  Luce said some intercountry adoptees have asked about it, and told him they are worried about being deported through denaturalization.  

While acknowledging the fear, Luce said he does not think that denaturalization is a risk for citizen adoptees at this time.  “I just don’t see the government using its resources to denaturalize someone whose parents naturalized them as a child,” he said.

“There’s got to be a pretty high [legal] bar to find fraud, so typically what they are looking for is people who had serious criminal convictions or proceedings they did not disclose in their citizenship petition. So, I am worried about how a broad effort could include intercountry adoptees who had to naturalize as an adult,” he said. “They could take a fine-tooth comb to everything.”

At the moment, Luce said, there has been no such action against any adoptee, and he believes denaturalization action against intercountry adoptees is “unlikely but we are keeping an eye on it.”

Luce said a larger law firm is working pro bono for him to research how any federal efforts to denaturalize immigrant citizens could impact intercountry adoptees. Once he obtains this information, Luce said, he will be able to better assess his individual clients’ risks. He also wants to post general information about the findings on the Adoptees United website “in plain English” he said, so that adoptees will have reliable information about it.

Reasons to chill out

The Trump Administration has been scrutinizing immigrants seeking citizenship, prompting Luce to be cautious about recommending citizenship to certain clients.

Children who are made citizens by their adoptive parents get a certificate of citizenship through their (citizen) adoptive parents.  However, “If you are an adult when you are naturalizing, you have to prove you have everything that you need in order to be a good citizen – that has become a very political issue as well under the new administration.”  Submitting the application opens up the applicant to extra scrutiny, something certain clients should avoid, he explained.

For example, he said, “I have clients who have a green card and could get citizenship, but they have voted in the past, or registered to vote, or filled out an employment form in the past saying that they are a U.S. citizen.”  All of these clients were filling out forms  in good faith, he pointed out, believing they were citizens. 

The law covers this, he explained, and makes exceptions for intercountry adoptees, or any person who has a good faith reason to believe they have been conferred automatic citizenship, such as through their parents. 

Despite this exception in the law, Luce is cautious about the risks, due to the current unpredictability of the immigration enforcement process. “Right now, I don’t want to push that at the naturalization step,” he said, “I know they are looking for people to put into removal proceedings. So, for some, I am just recommending that we renew the green card. And just bide our time.”

Fear management – all in a day’s work

Along with professional representation and expertise, Luce understands that part of his job is empathy.  “I don’t try to diminish the fear,” he said. “But part of my job is to handle that fear, try to reduce it, and help people feel more comfortable and safer. It is a chaotic and unpredictable time, and sometimes it feels like the administration does not even know what it is doing. I feel like we have to hunker down and get through the next two or three years, then hopefully things will start to return to normal.”

Adoptees United has a website at this link.  Specific information on proposed adoptee rights-related legislation is here, and information on the Citizenship Clinic’s free and low-cost legal services for adoptees is here.

The post A fighter in their corner appeared first on Korean Quarterly.

It is the first day of school, and it is hot.  

My hand is sticky as its palm presses closely to my mother’s. My body is slick with sweat, and the bottoms of my feet suction slightly to the soles of my flip-flops before they release, hitting the ground with a smack.  

I always walked to school. It was just across the street.  

Approaching the door, my mother tries to let go of my hand, but I keep my palm glued to hers. I am sad to leave her, but she insists I let go.  

I let go.  

Her skin is replaced by soft cotton and loose, silk thread.  

I am holding a bojagi, something to hold when my mother’s hands can’t reach me.  

I walk into school. It is the first day of kindergarten.  

Bojagis are Korean quilts. They are patchwork, often square, and it doesn’t really matter the fabrics you use to make one or the thread you use to stitch it.  

A bojagi is good fortune, it is warmth, it exists no matter social class, it is vibrant, it is strong, it has no right or wrong side, it is.  

Growing up, I always had to look twice before I sat down anywhere, because my mother used the arms of our chairs and couches, the plush surfaces of our pillows and blankets, as pincushions for her sewing needles.  

Loose threads clung to my clothing and scraps of fabric littered the floor.  

And I never minded, and you would never notice, because instead 

You’d see the beauty of my mother’s bojagis draped over furniture, lining the dining room table, stacked up in a disheveled pile next to the television.  

To grow up with my mother was to always feel as if you were amidst profound creation,  

And that in that process, you too were constantly being created.  

As an only child, I always loved to talk about myself.  

And so when adults would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would proudly say I want to sew.  

And I knew that, through this, I could, and, more importantly, I would, be carrying my mother and my Korean halmonis with me,  

Every fiber of their being,  

In my palm 

Every stitch 

An honor. 

But  

Eventually, people will ask you what you want to be, and when you respond earnestly that you want to do something they have prescribed as nothing more than a passion project, something happens where they start to say Well of course, but what do you want to do, really?  

And it gets harder to defend something you love,  

Or maybe not harder, but more embarrassing? Exhausting? How do you justify what you want to do to people that have already decided it is not something meaningful enough to be worth wanting? Anyway, this really means that there came a day where 

I rejected my sewing machine and my spools and my bobbins and  

I threw them into bins and slid them under my bed and  

I forgot about them 

And I decided to tell everyone I wanted to be a lawyer instead. 

But your mind is creative, my mother urged me.  

I did not listen.  

And so 

I started to unravel, and I didn’t even realize it.  

And I frayed, and frayed.  

But when you are lost, the threads of your ancestry, woven deeply within you, will tug at you, and they will call you back.  

Your veins are nothing but blue and red fibers that intertwine in your being to connect you to the women that you will never meet and never know. But they know you. They will guide you.  

I rejected and resisted and fought and tried to ignore 

But, ultimately  

One day,  

After an awful experience at the internship that I killed myself to get,  

My body covered in goosebumps from air conditioning when it should have been covered in sweat under the rays of the sun, 

After realizing that my plans for the future were falling apart because I felt so little satisfaction, so little joy,  

I found the threads of my body whispering to me, come back. 

What you need is often what you push into the corners or under your bed 

And leave in the dark to collect dust. 

6 years of forgetting 

An old machine.  

Blue, white, green thread.  

A handful of buttons.  

I thread a needle 

And get to work.  

The post Silk appeared first on Korean Quarterly.

As a composer with a background in Korean folk music, traditional Christian hymns, classical works, and many modern experimental techniques, Korean American composer Texu Kim has been building a following in Minnesota.

His arrangement of Hong Nan-Pa/Spring in My Hometown was performed at the Minnesota Orchestra’s Lunar New Year concert on February 26. Now he is working on a chamber piece in honor of Kyu-Young Kim (past artistic director and principal violinist of the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra). The piece was commissioned by the Schubert Club.

The violinist will perform the new work with his son Orion Kim at the piano and his wife, Minnesota Orchestra cellist Pitnarry Shin, and violist Misha Amory. Their concert opens the Schubert Club’s 2026-27 Music in the Park series, on October 11 at St. Anthony Park United Church of Christ in St. Paul.

Texu Kim also collaborated with cellist Matt Haimovitz on a short, playful cello solo; Haimovitz recently joined the faculty of the University of Minnesota and continues to develop the Primavera Project, a series of 81 commissioned works from diverse North American communities, to which Kim has contributed.

Kim has trod an unusual path to his recent musical composition specialty, contributing works in an avant-garde strain of European art music. As a child in Korea, Kim said he attended daily evangelical church services with his mother and studied piano and violin. After a successful academic career in chemistry, an encounter with internationally-known Korean composer Unsuk Chin opened the door for him in developing a new career in experimental music.

Texu Kim was born in 1980 in Seoul.  His mother was a devoted church member and sang in daily services. He started piano lessons at age four, and almost immediately could pick out  hymn melodies from memory. He started violin lessons at age eight.  In his teens, he served as a church accompanist.

In an interview with Korean Quarterly in late March, Kim described his mother’s religion as Korean Protestantism mixed with shamanism – a combination that has influenced his compositions. His generation grew up admiring international opera star Sumi Jo and other successful Koreans in the classical music world, but he listened mostly to popular music and jazz.

His family was not wealthy, so Kim did not view a musical career as a practical choice. He was a successful student, especially in science, and won a spot in a science magnet school. In 1998, as a high school senior, he won a silver medal at the International Chemistry Olympiad in Melbourne, Australia.

Kim enrolled at Seoul National University (SNU) to study chemistry, but since he had taken accelerated studies in high school, he had time to continue pursuing music on the side.

He was still playing piano; his idol at that time was French jazz pianist and composer Claude Bolling, whose music he transcribed and played. For a time, he devoted himself to Christian worship, even studying to be a minister. He created albums in the “praise and worship” vein of the early 2000s.

He studied Spanish and considered going to Mexico, but his mother objected, so instead, he took an opportunity to live in Paris. To pay his way, he taught Korean teenagers living there who needed extra classes in order to pass the strenuous standardized exams required by the South Korean academic system. He connected with other expats there, became involved in the European music scene, and began to consider that he could “make an impact” as a musician, he said.

Back at SNU, he enrolled for a second undergraduate degree, this time in music composition. That is where he met composer Unsuk Chin. “I was very lucky that I got to meet her,” Kim said. “She’s a very strict teacher. But she gave me a few critical opportunities in career advancement.” He continued on for a master’s in music at SNU.

Kim considered going back to Europe for doctoral studies but decided instead to explore music in the U.S.  He landed a teaching assistant post at Indiana University and earned a Doctor of Music (DM) degree, a specialized degree focusing on composition, conducting, performance and music literature.

Kim has composed for solo instruments, symphony orchestras, keyboard, choruses, and traditional Korean ensembles. His uses a wide range of musical genres, from Korean folk songs to Western modern-era tonal chord progressions; he adds in some wildly experimental techniques played on traditional instruments. “I am an omnivore when it comes to styles,” Kim said.

This flexibility shows up in Kim’s variation on America the Polarized, which starts off like a classical piano sonata, wanders into jazz territory, and as a solo piano piece leaves a pleasantly melancholic echo. Overlaid with the strings, the eerie avant-garde dissonance sounds more like a war is brewing. The score includes a piano part that seems conventional and string parts full of unconventional sliding harmonics and hand slaps. Performers have recorded both versions, to very different effect. “I think that piece represents me fairly well,” Kim said. 

Composers live by commissions, and Kim, who is also an associate professor at San Diego State University in California, has drawn a steady stream of projects in recent years. He said the commissioner often requests melodic material or a stylistic tradition that may require him to do some research.

For Sumi Jo’s Libera album released in 2011, Kim arranged themes from George Bizet’s famous opera Carmen into an 11-minute solo backed by orchestra and chorus.

A commission from the PyeongChang Music Festival and School in 2017 resulted in Fanfare for PyeongChang, a spirited mashup of popular song rhythms, traditional Korean melodic material, and brass fanfares, woven together for a symphony orchestra. Kim said that when he draws on Korean folk music, he tends to use abstractions from it rather than quoting directly, in the manner of composer Béla Bartók, who integrated Eastern European folk melodies and structures into his classical compositions.

Kim’s most innovative works tend to be short, compressed, virtuosic, and challenging to the ear of anyone steeped in the tradition of Western classical music. He falls in with the avant-garde tradition that reaches back at least a century, to when Erik Satie and Claude Debussy were looking for pathways out of the maxed-out harmonic world of late Romantic compositions. The avant-garde tradition (or anti-tradition) has produced everything from an exercise in complete silence, by John Cage, to countless exercises in shattering noise involving experimental techniques and modified or electrified instruments.

Avant-garde composition has in turn produced networks of instrumentalists who use classical instruments – sometimes modified with new parts or electronics – to produce unconventional sounds based on unconventional notations. Many classical compositions use these techniques occasionally, but the avant-garde world makes entire works out of an expanded range of orchestral timbres.

Following Unsuk Chin’s lead, Kim found himself among these instrumentalists, mainly in Europe. “Our time requires a different type of sound,” he said. Word of his composing began to spread, and as it turned out, he said, “I was good at it.”

Kim explained that the typical avant-garde ensemble looks like a slimmed-down symphony orchestra, with only one or two representatives of each string instrument instead of the conventional sections. String techniques include complex harmonics (in which a player touches a string lightly to produce extremely high pitches), glissandi (a technique of fingers sliding up and down the fingerboard), bows or hands slapping strings or wood, and variations on pizzicato (plucking strings). Wind players might blow into their instruments, click their keys, or slide around on a pitch. Percussion is more varied and prominent than in earlier eras of composition.

Avant-garde music has also taken advantage of the Internet for production and distribution, sometimes mixing a variety of art forms and including live and even participatory music sessions in connection with a project. Matt Haimovitz, the Grammy-nominated cellist, commissioned a short work from Texu Kim to fit with his Primavera Project, a collection of 81 short compositions from different composers inspired by Sandro Botticelli’s famous painting titled Primavera, and further interpreted by Texas artist Charline Von Heyl’s painting Primavera 2020.  

Kim’s contribution, Beseeching, was written for four cellos; during the pandemic of 2020-21, Haimovitz recorded all four tracks by himself.  Beseeching is in Primavera Part II: The Rabbits. The Primavera Project was featured in the 59^th Venice Biennale Arte and also includes live theatrical events. The project will culminate in a box set of recordings while unfolding in many directions online.

So, what can we expect from the Schubert Club commission premiering next fall?

As of late March, Kim said, he had sketched out a piano quartet in three movements and had a preliminary plan for a fourth. “It was clear that this piece should be something about the family,” he said. He asked the family about their formation as the Shin-Kim Trio during the pandemic, and what they were working on then. A “theme song” for them was the slow movement of the Schumann piano quartet that will also be on the program in October.

Texu Kim said the first movement evokes feelings from the pandemic; the second movement is about the son going away to college and the parents missing him but also wishing the best for him.

Kim was working on the third movement out in California when he began to hear the news about the Operation Metro Surge immigration enforcement action going on in Minnesota. He said he called to check on the family, then shifted his composition approach to reflect on the trauma playing out in the Twin Cities.

He said the fourth movement will be “happier,” and that all four movements will be played attacca (a presentation technique of no breaks between movements).

Kim said that while he’s comfortable with avant-garde sounds, he remains rooted in his childhood experience of listening to hymns, pop and jazz. “Even though my personal taste is quite avant-garde,” he said, “there should be something for everyone to enjoy.”

Editor’s note: Below are some links to hear Kim’s compositions, and a link to news of the Shin-Kim piano quartet performance:

Texu Kim’s website, with extensive performance links: https://www.texukim.com/

America the Polarized  piano solo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vHTQ2jUmCro

America the Polarized piano quartet https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHLqOZUIfEY

Fanfare for PyeongChang https://www.texukim.com/works/fanfare-for-pyeongchang

Primavera Project (Matt Haimovitz) https://www.theprimaveraproject.com/

Sumi Jo, Gypsy Carmen  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1i4SDWDV6HA

Schubert Club Music in the Park series https://schubert.org/event/shin-kim-piano-trio-with-misha-amory-viola/

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The Walker Art Museum in Minneapolis is hosting artist Christine Sun Kim’s first exhibit reviewing her work-to-date in a variety of media and inviting communication about being deaf and Korean American.  The exhibition, Christine Sun Kim: All Day All Night, will run through August 30.

Kim communicates using what is at hand – with everything from small pencil drawings to gallery-size installations. The exhibition reaches out to exhibit-goers of many abilities with tools like a digital braille guide and an audio book with visual descriptions.  She describes her perspectives using musical notation, infographics, English writing or text, and visual depictions of American Sign Language.

With this artistically-generous and interesting approach, Kim invites the viewer to see the world from a different perspective.

Kim creates in multiple media, including billboards, murals, videos, performances and audio installations. According to a Smithsonian Museum biography, she has used her artwork and public platforms to depict the complexities of Deaf culture, how it relates to sound and language, and how it perceives the social hierarchies within communication systems. Her works often makes bold statements, but just as often, she uses humor to playfully encourage the viewer to enter her world and begin to understand.  

Kim, who grew up in Orange County, California, studied painting at New York’s School of Visual Arts, and later pursued a degree in sound and music at Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson, New York. She worked as a museum guide and interpreter at the Whitney Museum (New York), where the first iteration of All Day All Night was exhibited.

In a video recording in which she explains a few of pieces as displayed at the Whitney, she goes into her own reflection on trauma, showing how she depicts it in an artwork. The ASL sign for “trauma” which is an index-finger scratching motion across the forehead, indicating a “scratch on the mind,” she said. It is sometimes accompanied by the other index finger doing a scratch on the chest, indicating a bigger trauma of both mind and heart.  It can also be depicted as a 10-finger scratch for the biggest trauma, she said.  One of the trauma pieces she explains, entitled Trauma, LOL is a drawing created with words forming a smiley face.  The words “trauma upon trauma” repeat and create the never-ending circle shape.

In her artist’s talk at the Walker, she shows other examples on slides of how she depicts the deaf experience in representational art, in musical, or, like the trauma example, by borrowing from the depth and creativity of the ASL language.  

Kim has performed and exhibited globally in international exhibitions, including the Whitney Museum in New York, in the Gwangju (South Korea) Biennales, and the Manchester (England) International Festival of original new art. She is a TED Senior Fellow, and a Disability Future Fellow through the Ford and Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. In 2020, she made history as the first deaf Asian American to sign the national anthem at the Super Bowl.

The Walker Museum’s opening day artist talk with Kim is at this link. An interesting walk-through of Kim’s exhibit as it was staged at the Whitney Museum of Art is on Youtube at this link.

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The Twin Cities Asian Fair, one of the largest and most vibrant cultural festivals in the region, returns to the Hilde Performance Center in Plymouth on Saturday, May 30, 2026, bringing together thousands for a full day of food, performances, and cultural celebration.

Event highlights include: A Cultural Parade, showcasing traditional attire and community pride; live performances on an outdoor stage throughout the day; a K-pop Dance Experiences, with audience participation invited; the Watermelon Eating Contest (a crowd favorite); authentic Asian cuisine from a variety of food vendors, and many family-friendly activities and games for all ages.

Now in its fourth year, more than 12,000 attendees are expected. The event will feature representation by more than 80 organizations and small businesses and representing 20-plus Asian cultures. The fair has quickly become a cornerstone event in Minnesota’s West Metro area.

The festival will be held from 11 a.m. through 7 p.m., with a special evening extension, the AF Music Night from 7 to 9 p.m. featuring live entertainment and food vendors staying open late.

In addition to the festivities, the Asian Fair continues its commitment to the next generation through the Asian Fair Scholarship Program, recognizing local high school students who demonstrate leadership, service, and dedication to the community.

“The Asian Fair is more than just a festival — it’s a celebration of belonging,” said Chen Zhou, organizer of the Twin Cities Asian Fair. “We are proud to create a space where cultures come together, stories are shared, and the community grows stronger each year.”

The event is free and open to the public. Attendees are encouraged to bring family and friends to experience a day filled with culture, connection, and celebration.

For more information, exhibitor opportunities, or sponsorship inquiries, please visit: https://tcasianfair.org/

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