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"You use chopsticks well" is something expats or visitors in Korea who don't repeatedly poke themselves in the eye can expect to hear during meals with Koreans. While I accept it as a compliment, I learned in the late 1990s from a fellow American that some long-term expats view that comment as an attempt to single them out as unwelcome foreigners incapable of assimilating.
Amused but not paranoid about such "Wow, you can tie your own shoes" compliments, I tell the truth: "I have been using chopsticks ever since I was 12 years old. There are Chinese restaurants in Texas." When Koreans continue to treat it as something amazing, then I tell them my secret: Before coming to Korea, I won the International Chopstick Championship (ICC).
While some Korean friends are amazed at my chopstick skills, one lady recently was wide-eyed astonished I was sitting "Indian style" on the floor next to her at a gathering. Her mind couldn't comprehend what her lying eyes were seeing. Why? She told me that Americans can't sit that way. Still baffled, she asked: "Did you learn to sit that way from doing yoga?" I thought to tell her that I had won the Indian Style Sitting Championship (ISSC), but, come on, who would believe I had won that and the chopstick championship?
And then there are the personal questions irritating long-term expats: the ICS (Immigration, Census and Speed) checklist. Immigration officers around the world apparently were inspired by Koreans studying English: Where are you from, what's your purpose, and how long will you be visiting? The same with census takers: "How old are you?" "Are you married?" "Do you have any children?" The third group of questions apparently was clipped by speed-meeting facilitators: "What's your favorite (Korean food)?" "How do you like (Korea)?"
During my first sojourn to Korea as a young man, English levels were lower so most Korean questioners didn't comprehend the responses they received as they rushed through their checklists. I was never bothered, recognizing cultural differences and the challenge of learning a foreign language. Eventually, I wrote my responses on an index card, laminated, to share with Koreans check listing me.
In Korea again, English levels here have improved, and I have upgraded from index cards to a PowerPoint presentation highlighting my professional career in the USA and photos of my various activities in Korea. My self-introduction is often met with cheers, but the first question is often: "How old are you?" Koreans in the know will try to hush them, pointing out a well-known myth: Americans hate personal questions.
A Facebook friend recently posted a 2012 Japan Times commentary by an American expat who is a naturalized Japanese citizen. He cited social psychological research to argue that Japanese people asking personal questions are engaged in "micro-aggressions" assuming the "dominant position of ‘host' to put people "in their place" in the submissive status of "visitor" or "guest."
If the author has been back to America recently, I suspect his mind couldn't comprehend what his lying ears must have heard. Americans ask similar "micro-aggressive" personal questions ― slyly, in context. If you mention college, then curious Americans will seize the moment: "When did you graduate?" You can see them doing calculations in their heads. If dating or family are mentioned, then curious Americans ask: "Oh, are you married?"
Some expats get bothered when "micro-aggressive" questions are directed at them without context: "Hello, how old are you?" Instead of getting defensive, I respond the American way: I hijack the conversation. I start talking about my favorite things instead of being a hapless victim oppressed by micro-aggressive questions.
I suspect if Koreans stop asking personal questions that these long-term expats would cite research about being marginalized because they've been eliminated from social norms. Despite that, my advice to Koreans: One, ask questions in context. Engage in conversations rather than firing off memorized questions. "What do you like to do?" can lead to a deeper conversation than a hit-and-run checklist.
Two, recognize there is a difference between expats who arrived last week and those who have been here for two decades or more. An expat who has been working here, paying taxes for decades, considers this home, and could well be married with children, and may resent still getting called "foreigner," treated like a traveler passing through and receiving "wow, you can use chopsticks" compliments.
Three, asking questions with a purpose may make expats less defensive. When I sense Koreans are checklisting me, yes, I regret index cards are out of date. When Koreans ask "What is your favorite Korean food?" so they can treat me to it? Well, hello friend!
Despite my advice, some determined questioners will continue with their checklists. That's when I start telling them about my glorious chopstick championships.
The writer is the director for International Relations at Freedom Factory in Seoul and the Asia Outreach Fellow with the Atlas Network in Washington, D.C. Reach him at CJL@post.harvard.edu.
