The ending of our Fulbright grant year appears quite similar to how it started. We came into the grant year hopeful for a new adventure, but were soon met with obstacles. Many of this year’s grantees have felt loneliness in their year brought on by mask mandates, online classes, travel restrictions and social distancing rules. As we prepare for the end of the grant, it may feel like we leave with unfinished business and goals unachieved. It may feel like things haven’t really changed at all. Perhaps everything is exactly the same as how it started.
Or perhaps there was change- small, mundane, daily- but change nonetheless. The kind of growth that occurs only through constant perseverance in the face of constant challenge. Our cohort was unable to do many things this year (we don’t even have a group photo together!). However, instead of passively accepting that there were things we could not do, we got creative with the things we could. Our classes were engaging both online and off; volunteer opportunities took form in new shapes and sizes; and we discovered more about our placements than perhaps any grantees before us. Although times were stagnant, we refused to remain still.
This change is evident in the pieces shared in Volume 14 of Fulbright Korea’s Infusion. As you read through the magazine, I encourage you to read through it as if it were a 2021 diary composed by the cohort. We start with Kiki Marlam’s piece “acquisition of my senses” that will place you in a singular moment in a small city in Korea. Then we will take you through the discovery of Korea in pieces like Julia Zorc’s “Dragon Head” and the discovery of identity such as in William Lander’s “Speaker’s Block.” Some pieces will take you through both, like Miles Miller’s reflection on his family history and Hanoks, Korean traditional homes, in his piece titled “Re-Member the Future.”
Our writers share personal testimonies about who they were before the grant year and who they have become. Read about the struggles grantees faced in pieces like Chloe Nelson’s “Hungry Ghost” and Carolyn Acosta’s “Conferences & In-Between.” Those that feel they are obvious outsiders open up about their experiences, such as in Andrianna Boykin’s “The Smudged Mirror” and Katherine Seibert’s “Cures for the Outsider.” Meanwhile “Lunch Box” by Tricia Park and “From a Great Distance Notes on Identity and Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings” by Sarah Berg call attention to the Asian-American experience and the often ignored traumas of that experience.
While the hurdles of the year cannot be ignored, there are stories of community that show just how persistent this year’s cohort is in the face of adversity. Joy Cariño’s “The Pinoy Grill” offers you a seat in a restaurant turned home-away-from-home, while Johanna Alexander’s “Trading Fall Favorites” is a humorous look at life in a homestay. Jame See Yang’s “Overheard in 영어” is a window into teaching in Korea, followed by the artworks of our talented students as well. Claire Ehr’s piece “Naju 11:46 p.m.” reminds us that sometimes art is just our way of expression, nothing more and nothing less.
We share not only through our words but through our photography as well. From captures of Korean landscapes, to people, to architecture, to culture, the pictures will take you through a year of changes. Unlike past issues, there will be no photos from other countries taken by grantees enjoying their winter vacation abroad because unlike past issues, we never left the country. Everything in this issue was conceived of in Korea.
Which leads me to our theme for the year. Volume 14 will give you a sense of limbo. Many of the written and photographed works will deal with the old and new. They are looking to the past in order to see what’s coming next. We modeled our magazine off of Korean films from the 1980s, a time when South Korea itself was facing a movement of change. Inspired by this country and its history, our cohort will continue to grow after we’ve gone our separate ways. No matter where we started, it wasn’t easy to get here. Now that it is all over, it won’t be easy to leave either.
I want to thank my amazing staff for all of their hard work, including Managing Editors Elizabeth Stewart and Lydia O’Donnell. I want to thank every writer and photographer who submitted and everyone who worked through the long process of getting published, as well as each student who participated in our art competition. Thank you to the Korean-American Educational Commission (KAEC) Chair Dr. Anneliese Reinemeyer as well as Executive Director Byungok Kwon and Senior Program Officer Mrs. Young-Sook Lee. Lastly, my gratitude for Heidi Little, the Fulbright liaison for Infusion, and Isabel Moua, ETA program officer. Please enjoy Volume 14 of Fulbright Korea’s Infusion. I encourage you to sip on an ah-ah (iced americano) as you read.
