Issue 55: "The Identity Crisis I Didn't See Coming" by Kathy Cyr

Immigrant Hustle: A Monthly Mini Memoir

Warm Greetings, KP!

Spring is in the air, and though we’ve adjusted our clocks to enjoy longer days, I can’t shake the feeling that time seems to be moving at double speed! It makes me consider all that I frequently reserve for another day, under the assumption that there will always be another day. How often do we truly consider the time we have to capture the essence of who and what we love? For what should we be extending more effort to learn, from the people in our lives who do it best? And what traditions do we need to be more intentional about preserving?

These are the questions that I was left pondering after hearing Kathy’s story, and I am grateful to be able to share it with our KP community. Kathy’s experience is one that is likely more common than I’ve ever heard discussed. Her story is a heartfelt reminder that time is ever-revolving, as pieces of our identities often become intertwined with the ebbs and flow of those cycles. Thank you, Kathy, for being so vulnerable and true in sharing your journey through grief to growth.

The Identity Crisis I Didn’t See Coming by Kathy Cyr

Photo courtesy of Kathy Cyr.

Kathy Cyr is a seasoned Digital Analytics Executive who has led finance, marketing, and analytics teams at multiple Fortune 500 companies. She is an alumna of the University of North Carolina and earned her MBA from Colorado State University. As the daughter of an Air Force Veteran, she was born in Washington DC, but spent most of her childhood overseas. After college, she followed in her father’s footsteps by commissioning as an Officer in the US Air Force, which began her professional journey spanning eight cross-country moves and ultimately landed her family in Denver, Colorado, where she currently resides. Outside of her professional endeavors, Kathy is passionate about exploring new countries to indulge in local cuisines, and expressing herself through her love of fashion. Follow Kathy on IG @jadore_heels.

For my Umma.

I can still smell the aroma of my mom’s meticulously packed homemade food, portioned and stacked to the brim of two styrofoam coolers, whenever I’d come home to visit from college. She would give me extra meat from her plate— which was truly a delicacy for her, having grown up without much in Korea. She’d give me the big pieces of crab legs and she would eat the smaller sections. I’m sure all mothers do this in some way, but Korean moms just hit different! I wish I could return this type of love to her in my adulthood, but I feel like that was stolen from me.

I am half Korean and half Caucasian, but I’ve always felt more connected to my Korean lineage due to the strong influence of my mother. We were a military family, and although we were primarily based in America, and our father is of British-Irish descent, my sister and I were raised in a staunchly Korean household. We ate mostly Korean food, sitting around a small round table on the floor; we attended Korean church and Sunday School— where we ate more Korean food after service; and we spent many nights on the heated rug in our living room, listening to Korean soap operas from the satellite TV.

Our mom was our anchor to Korean culture. She was our translator when we took annual trips to Korea during the summer. She was the reason we owned, literally, hundreds of Korean footies and bath scrubbing mitts. In only a Korean household do you find three extra refrigerators in the garage— including a kimchi fridge— or red peppers drying on the roof every year.

I never realized the impact my mother had on my identity until we lost her to cancer in 2018. It was as if thirty-six years of being Korean had been erased. Even though I had felt Korean for my entire life, the harsh reality hit that she was gone, and the community I felt so connected to now seemed foreign to me. I felt completely untethered from myself without her.

I can’t read, write, or speak Korean fluently. Who would I call when I am in H-mart trying to figure out the difference between “guk-ganjang” and regular soy sauce? How will I know which brand of Gochujang to buy? What type of meat did my mom use in Tteokguk, or any soup for that matter? And while we’re going down this road, how would I ever learn to make all of the comforting foods I grew up with? I thought we would have more time.

It’s devastating to lose a parent. Full stop. In my case, I was not only grieving for my mother, but also for my heritage. I wasn’t sure how I would ever be able to answer the question, “What are you?” with the same confidence I had when my mom was still here. I had never questioned my identity before, but I felt like a bit of an imposter— like I wasn’t Korean enough on my own. I didn’t realize just how much space my mom held for my connection to my culture.

My only son was born in 2020, just two years after her passing. While becoming a mother has been the sweetest thing I’ve ever known, it has also been a constant reminder that he will never experience Korean culture the way I did. I wish for nothing more than to have him taste his Halmeoni’s kimbap or hear her beautiful voice singing Karaoke in the living room.

A part of my healing journey has been learning to cook some of my favorite dishes that my mom made, so my son will grow up smelling the familiar foods I grew up with. Although nothing can replace the love of her culinary hand, I think I’ve finally mastered her egg rolls and cucumber kimchi. I want my son to feel a deep connection to his Korean heritage, despite being two generations removed— but mostly, I want him to feel connected to her.

I am deeply grateful for the profound influence my mom had on my life, and I take great pride in honoring her legacy by passing down our traditions to her grandson. Though I never imagined filling her shoes, I am now standing proudly in the role of a mother, and everyday I realize just how much was caught rather than taught. Being Korean isn’t just about knowing the language and customs— it’s about experiencing the intimacy of its very specific palate of love. I feel lucky to know it well.

H Mart Happiness: What’s your favorite product and why?

“These almonds are really nostalgic for me, so I typically pick them up on my H-Mart runs. I can remember being on the train with my mom, in Korea, and she would always buy us these chocolate-covered almonds from the snack cart. It was like a special treat, and for some reason, we only got these on the train.” - Kathy C.

What’s your favorite H Mart product? Share the love and leave a comment!