This story about Koreatowns is part of Home, Made, a collection of stories honoring Asian diasporas creating vibrant communities by weaving their heritages with their American hometowns. Read more here.
As a Korean third-culture kid growing up in Singapore, I looked to my home country for a sense of my identity. I tried to keep up with the latest trends in music, culture, and food, but always felt one step behind. Then, when I moved to New York for college, I had to learn what it meant to be “American” for the first time. Sure, I’d grown up under the influence of American media, but I was constantly missing pop culture references, and using unfamiliar colloquialisms that invited blank stares. I simultaneously dreaded and celebrated this difference, but constantly tried to conform to a Korean American identity.
In third-culture kid research, there’s a concept called “cultural homelessness,” born out of a constantly changing environment. I felt that acutely throughout my life, but in New York, I created a home of sorts, furnishing it with close friends, intellectual ideas, creative endeavors, and other ties that kept me tethered to the city. When I had to abandon that once more to move to Los Angeles to pursue a career in film, it felt like starting from scratch.
The pandemic move to LA was a struggle. It was difficult to form a community in a time of isolation. Amidst the tumult, Koreatown presented itself as a reprieve from the disconnect I felt with a new city. The conversations I shared—and the photographs I made with small business owners—proved the common cultural identity we shared as people from a similar origin. As they shared their stories, served me fruit, and fed me, I felt the same nourishment I felt while growing up with my family.
Koreatown became a spiritual home for me. Its very existence, in the heart of Los Angeles—as well as the existence of Koreatowns all over the country—serves to anchor the wandering souls of the many Korean diasporic people in this nation. Below, I’m sharing excerpts from my book Koreatown Dreaming: Stories & Portraits of Korean Immigrant Life that, I hope, explore the breadth of Korean American experiences in the United States through the portraits and stories of everyday Koreans.
In a time when attitudes towards the AAPI community can rapidly turn based on rhetoric by political leaders, Koreatowns remind us that there are safe spaces where we can take refuge, and nourish our bonds with each other. —Emanuel Hahn
Seon Hee Chon of Music Plaza in Los Angeles, California
When Ms. Chon first arrived in Los Angeles in 1986, she wasn’t impressed. She thought the area was underdeveloped and that America was slow to catch up to the rest of the world. She observed how people worked hard at various jobs just to make ends meet. Ms. Chon and her husband worked at a swap meet, selling American music to their customers. When Koreatown Plaza opened in 1992, Ms. Chon started Music Plaza to bring Korean music to a community that missed home.
In the early days, they would create brochures with top hits in both the American and Korean music charts to introduce their customers to new music. Though Ms. Chon had no background in music, she learned about the music industry through her work. Through the rise of YouTube and the popularity of K-pop in recent years, her store experienced a resurgence in activity, with most of her clientele now being non-Korean. There are throngs of K-pop fans who visit to purchase music albums and merchandise of their favorite bands. As part of her job, she keeps herself informed on all the new bands that come out. Though she might not know the names of her friends’ kids, she knows the names of all the members of NCT.
Ms. Chon is grateful for the resurgence of her business through K-pop but remarked that she still operates her store one day at a time. There’s no guarantee that K-pop will maintain its relevance forever. The music industry is constantly changing, and she is unsure how tenable it is to operate a small store like hers as she competes against big-box retailers. For now, her current favorite K-pop acts: Pentagon, TWICE, NCT, Stray Kids. She also likes classical music by Mendelssohn and Tchaikovsky.
Grace Yu of PN Rice Cake House in Atlanta, Georgia
Grace Yu opened PN Rice Cake House in 1985, first as a grocery store around a military base in Columbus, Georgia, then later as a rice cake and banchan (Korean side dish) purveyor in Atlanta, Georgia.
