CCDN412 Joyce Kim 300494771

PROCESS - Brainstorm
CCDN412 Joyce Kim 300494771

NARRATIVE

Food plays an incredibly important role in Korean culture. This is particularly true in my
family. Whenever I call home, the first thing my parents ask is: “밥 먹었어?” (Translation:
“Have you eaten?”). There is no “hello”, “how was your week?”, and definitely no “I love you”
in our conversations. Just a performative question about the food I’ve last consumed.

Growing up, I’d hear my friends’ parents saying “I love you” at the end of every phone call
and I’d feel a dull ache in my chest. Was I not worthy of my parents’ love? So one day, I
confessed the words buried deep. “Appa,” I said. “Why do you never tell me you love me?”
But my dad merely smiled. “Oh Joycey,” he said. “Never forget… Actions speak louder than
words.”

It didn’t feel like a sufficient answer at the time. But over the years, I have learnt that there
are many ways to express love. I think of all the times my dad would pick me up from soccer
practice, with pieces of fruit cut into crescent moons, snuggly packed into a Tupperware with
a small fork, waiting for me in the back seat of the car. Or all the times he’d sneak home the
freshest salmon steaks from the restaurant, because despite it being almost midnight and not
having had a single day off in a year, he knows how much I love to eat “orange meat”.

My dad grew up in a small village in Korea with no electricity and abject poverty. Falling
asleep to the grumbling of his starving belly was a daily task, and often his dreams were full
of big steaming bowls of white rice – a rare delicacy. Yet, his father – my grandfather –
would secretly leave bowls of their hard-earned harvest on the doorsteps of the less fortunate
in the village. Even without enough food for the family to eat, sharing what little they had
with others was in the fabric of their being.

I know now: Food is not just about nutrition. To Koreans, and especially to my family, food is
an expression of our deepest affections. Food is survival. Food is service. Food is humanity.
But most of all, food is love. It comes from our common history of poverty, but it also comes
from our common history of compassion.

Now, when my parents call me and ask me if I’ve eaten, my heart feels warm with pride. I
don’t need to hear the words “I love you.” Because every time I eat, I feel their love in my
every bite.