Perplexed by Halloween

By Chi-Young Kim

Although I had an unconventional upbringing, moving from one continent to another, I’ve now lived in the U.S. for over a decade straight. I go about my daily life without thinking much about my “foreigner” status, or really understanding how deeply culture affects the development and formation of one’s identity. That is, until October hits. Halloween is one of many American holidays I just don’t understand, especially why adults are so into it.

I was 5 on my first Halloween. I don’t know whose choice it was but I was a witch. I remember a slinky black costume with a pointy hat and a bronze-colored necklace. I don’t remember what I thought about my first time trick-or-treating ― all I remember is trudging along the side of a dark road and gasping in dismay when my bronze witchy necklace broke and scattered into the weeds. I went to a Los Angeles elementary school that had a lot of moms who hand-made amazing costumes. During the three years that I attended that school, my best friends went as Cinderella, in her ball gown holding a storybook with actual pages that turned, and Pippi Longstocking, complete with red braids sticking straight out at the sides. Both costumes were gorgeously handmade. I was beside myself with envy. On my second Halloween, my mom just slashed some eyebrow pencil on the corners of my eyes and insisted I looked scary in my store-bought devil costume. I was mortified when another girl in my class came in an amazing, hand-stitched devil costume. I remember dragging my trident in dejection as we marched around the schoolyard.

During our L.A. years, my sister and I ate a lot of candy and made a game out of categorizing our treats based on hierarchies that only kids understand and we had big round jack-o-lantern buckets to go trick-or-treating with. We went around with our friends in a neighborhood known for going all out on Halloween. There were haunted houses, scary costumes, graves that popped up and slimy eyeballs and oozing brains to touch.

Then we returned to Korea. I didn’t miss Halloween that much. In fact, I don’t remember ever thinking about it. When we moved to Toronto when I was 13, I went right back into celebrating Halloween. I was just on the cusp of being too old, so I went trick-or-treating with my sister and her friend, ostensibly to “supervise” them, and I bought some fake skin and blood so as to appear as though I had a scary growth on my face. It was already extremely cold, so my fake skin froze and just fell off my face, to the horror (or so I thought) of the adults giving out treats. After that year, I don’t remember going trick-or-treating.

When I got to college, it surprised me that Halloween was a huge event. There were parties all around campus, and everyone was dressing up. A friend and I went as Vermicious Knids, black woolly creatures from Roald Dahl’s “Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator.” We clad ourselves in black garbage bags and tried to approximate their poses. We thought it was witty and that people would get it, since they were from a classic book of our childhoods. It was a complete failure ― our friends thought we were feces. And it turns out a majority of our cohorts had never even read ``Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator.’’ I realized for the first time that most of the other girls were dressed as sexy nurses, sexy werewolves, sexy librarians, sexy cats…. That was the death knell of Halloween for me. What was the point of dressing up if nobody knew what you were? Why did everyone want to dress up as the same sexy thing? How was a sexy schoolgirl scary, unless she was also decapitated? What was so bewitching about going to a bar or a party in costume? And couples who went as a matching pair ― why? And candy - sure, I liked candy but not that much. Clearly, I was not a true American at heart. Plus, Halloween had too much of the mob mentality that I instinctively shy away from. Dressing up just because everyone else does it? Something about it rubbed me the wrong way.

For years now, I’ve masterfully avoided Halloween parties. Sadly, my decade-long avoidance of all things All Hallows’ Eve is soon to end. Friends and acquaintances think it’s odd that we didn’t go trick-or-treating with our daughter this year. Since she has no idea what Halloween is yet, I plan to revel in her ignorance for a little longer. Probably by next year, she’s going to want to be something dreadful, such as a Disney princess. And you’ll see me on the dark sidewalk, waiting for my tiny Princess Ariel in her cheap and flimsy (yet expensive) costume, staring perplexedly at everyone. But no, that sexy unicorn won’t be me.

Chi-Young Kim is a literary translator based in Los Angeles. She has translated works by Shin Kyung-sook, Kim Young-ha, and Jo Kyung-ran. Contact her at chiyoung@chiyoungkim.com or via her website, chiyoungkim.com.