I've had a few different lives

by Becky Lam

Myoung is a self-professed nerd. She has a history of deliberately going out of her way in the middle of the night, oftentimes on a whim, to seek out a dark place far outside of the city just to catch a glimpse of a passing comet or meteor shower. That’s what she and her then-husband were up to one night many years ago when they lived in Portland: “We went out somewhere in Oregon, like 2 or 3 hours out. It was dark and I think we just ended up stopping and pulling into a dark area where we were trying to find a good clearing. The gates were open and it was like those big metal [latches] that lets you in and out of [a recreation] area.” 

It was perfectly dark outside and all they could see was what had shown in their headlights. But the giddiness of their midnight field trip halted abruptly with a sudden roar. “There were these big, big trucks with their big tires and they were screening around—they were driving around us and trying to freak us out… It was completely dark. I was scared and I’ve only been scared like that a handful of times in my life.” All they could do was sit there like waiting prey. They couldn’t see a thing, but could hear the frightening cry of engines and tires ripping through the dirt. Through the chaotic din, Myoung heard the low growl of men laughing. 

“They closed the gate on us. It’s in the middle of the night, nobody’s around, and we were out in the country somewhere trying to find somewhere dark and yeah, it freaked me out.” After having enough fun at the expense of their target’s terror, the men left just as suddenly as they’d appeared. Myoung couldn’t help but feel like they had just been rounded up. “Like a horror movie: the tormenting right before they kill you in the middle of nowhere.”

Though her star-chasing nights have waned, Myoung is still no stranger to the outdoors. Only now, she usually has her teenage son, Brandon, in tow. As a single mother, one of the key pieces of wisdom she tries to impart on her son is to never lose a connection to nature. Much of this stems from her own interest about the world around her and her desire to explore. That and seeing how much youth culture and technology has changed over the years. Myoung has charged herself with encouraging Brandon to experience more things first hand and exposing him to as much as she can—from international travel to exploring their own backyard in Northern California—even if it takes a little more effort to get him out of his digital comfort zone.

“He’s already been to different parts of Europe and to Mexico and you know, just making sure that he gets that kind of exposure and instilling a sort of curiosity and of knowing about your community. But also, what’s outside of your community. I think that’s an important thing we have to impart. And also teaching him stewardship, but I don’t know what kind of job I’m doing on that front! So I’m always taking him camping.”

Myoung has always been comfortable outside, spending most of her early childhood playing outdoors and wandering around Seoul. The home in which she grew up emphasized outdoor space and flexible living like many of the homes that were common in South Korea in the ‘70s. It was laid out similar to a 한옥 or traditional hanok: the rooms of the house faced a courtyard and this open space was central to how families lived. “You access different rooms from the courtyard. It’s not like a living room, then bedrooms [off of it], like in the U.S. It’s a different way of living… you lived mostly outdoors in a way or in this transitional indoor-outdoor space.” And the home itself was oriented to the surrounding natural environment.

As a young girl, Myoung was largely left to her own devices. She remembers running around town by herself and even traveling across Seoul on her own. “I must’ve been seven or something. I was by myself and I had gone to a friend’s house and had to take the bus back by myself. I remember trying to figure out—I don’t even know how I got home, to be honest. I don’t think I could even figure out how to navigate their bus system now!” 

The city of Seoul sits in a mountainous region of South Korea. Since Myoung’s upbringing, the surrounding area has transformed drastically from a low-lying town into the urban metropolis we know today. But what hasn’t changed are the region’s parks and the people’s love of hiking. “They’re so proud of their natural space. You can really see that. Sometimes it’s weird for me because I feel like I’ve had a few different lives along the way and I forget that, especially before I went to Korea for the first time after having moved.” Growing up, Myoung was free to explore the local terrain and spent most of her time running around outside. The mountainous paths she was once accustomed to bushwhacking have since evolved into a series of well-marked trails that are heavily used by the local population and tourists alike. Public access to these natural wonders have been maintained despite the drastic urbanization of the region. And culturally, hiking and getting outside is a popular past-time. 

On a recent visit, Myoung trekked out to the Seoraksan range, a national park just east of Seoul. It was a local holiday, so the trail she alighted was crowded with people and she couldn’t help but notice how much more strenuous the hike felt. “Here I am—I’m in pretty decent shape—and the markers say it’s only 5 kilometers to the top of the mountains and I’m like, Oh My God, this has got to be more than 5 kilometers! I’m sweating bullets and we were literally climbing and climbing… for I don’t know how long. But there were these old people just going at it in their little outfits—soo in shape!”

Myoung fondly remembers the days when she explored these outdoor spaces and mountains as an energetic young girl. She didn’t have a curfew nor was she required to stay near the house, so she often wandered off on her own. Myoung was a very active child, spending her days outside and establishing a sense of independence very early on. “Especially back then, the kinds of fear we have in modern Western society about kids being out by themselves—it’s not the same. That kind of fear [didn’t exist].” She relished this freedom which helped build a sense of autonomy and established her inquisitive personality. She is still very much the same today: physically active and curiously engaged with her environment.

When Myoung was 9, her family emigrated to the U.S. with very few possessions and a dream for a better life. They landed in Maryland, where her father knew a small constituency of Korean families from serving his conscription in the South Korean military. They were brought into a small immigrant community just outside of Baltimore. At first, Myoung’s family squeezed into a small two bedroom apartment with two other families. “So there’s another reason why you spent a lot of time outside. It just becomes a part of your second home.” There was a community pool, some green areas, and a nearby park where Myoung spent most of her free time. Not only did she need space to roam and a familiar active routine to what she had in Seoul, but she also needed an outlet. “If I don’t do something physical for a few days, like exert some sort of energy, I can feel it. I need to do something physical.”

By the time she was a teenager, Myoung’s family settled into a single family home in Glen Burnie, located 20 minutes south of Baltimore. As the eldest daughter, Myoung was expected to help out around the house and juggle many roles: “I didn’t do any kind of major sports when I was in high school because my parents were immigrants and working different jobs. I had two younger sisters, so I was required to come home and be the caretaker, have dinner ready for my dad, etc… And he also had his own business, so I was the secretary at home.” She recalls a horrific experience as a lanky freshman trying out for LaCrosse. Myoung was still very active, but she lacked the size and muscle mass of the other girls. At one practice, she got pummeled by a much burlier athlete who rammed her in the stomach. “I just keeled over! Plus, I just couldn’t do it because of my parents—it was conflicting with my duties at home.”

Though she didn’t have time for team sports at school, Myoung found other outlets. “I biked a lot. I remember biking with a big watermelon once—I think we had guests and my stepmother sent me out to get some watermelon from the store. I remember coming back, riding my little ten speed carrying a big watermelon! I don’t even know how managed to bring it back!” To this day, biking is a still a big love of Myoung’s, though she doesn’t tote around large fruits nor does she ride without her handlebars. (“I can’t even do that anymore!”) She even developed a love for mountain biking in her 20s and still regularly rides on the road today.

Some of her favorite memories of growing up in Maryland were the huge family picnics that she and other families in the community would gather for, especially in the summertime. They’d go out for a day trip to the beach like Point Lookout State Park, in the mountains, or by a river or stream in the woods. Myoung still remembers the badminton matches and barbeques: 

“We’d all pack into the big station wagon and go down to these outdoor places—we did a lot of that, actually. Part community building and part parents getting drunk! It’s a weird combination of just letting go and then being outdoors. Because again, I think being in a different generation myself, you didn’t spend as much time indoors. I just remember being young and being outside all the time in Korea. That was just your playground.”

And so it was again in the States, having access to outside spaces. “I think it had a lot of influence on me and my need for being outdoors.”

“Now, they’re 16—full-blown teenagers—and it was so hard to get them out of the house this time around.” Myoung’s son and nephew are the same age and every summer, it gets harder to get them outside. Her nephew, Parker, was in town over the summer from New York, and just like every year before that, Myoung wanted to take the kids camping. But it was like pulling teeth. They relented, but refused to go out for more than one night. “If we force them, even though they don’t think they like the idea necessarily, once they’re there, they just have an amazing, amazing time.” 

This year, the wildest part about their camping trip was for Myoung to see the boys still playing in the woods and exploring like young kids, making up stories and playing pretend. Once they were outdoors, their child-like imagination and creativity came back to them like second nature. “It doesn’t happen when they’re indoors and behind a screen because it captivates them in a very different way.” Myoung hopes that Brandon and Parker will soon understand this themselves because getting outside these days is as vital as it’ll ever be. “The outdoors is even more important now for kids because they’re so inundated with technology.” School work is all done digitally and their social lives are anchored by their devices. Most of their days are spent behind a screen. 

Myoung feels her son’s generation drift farther from the physical realm, so she continues to push him to spend more time outdoors. “I think that’s an aspect of me trying to transfer some of my upbringing or my built-in desire to be outside to Brandon. Get him away from the computer!” This has been a part of her parenting since the beginning. Myoung has made an effort to engage her son with different environments and to take him to new places throughout his childhood. She’s watched Brandon’s preferences change over the years, even more so now as a teenager. “Ultimately, that exposure— for me, as a parent, to really expose him to as many things as possible so that he can make a decision as to what he likes and what he doesn’t like in the end.”

She still remembers her own changing preferences for outdoor activities and navigating her way through unfamiliar territory. In her twenties, Myoung was an avid cyclist and one day, found that her love of bikes had spilled over into mountain biking. There wasn’t a big reason for it. She just did it. (“I just wanted to mountain bike!”) Before she knew it, she was mountain biking almost every weekend in Maryland. “The trails that we [had were] much more technical and fun and more diverse [than in California]. We used to go to this one trail near the University of Maryland called the Orange Trail and it was a very popular mountain biking trail for the locals. You start in this ravine and you go through streams and mud piles and roots and rocks—it’s just very fun!”

She wound up dragging her then-boyfriend out to the trails, getting him into the sport with her, and buying them matching kits. “I was very outdoors, but he was not.” She influenced him to do more camping, hiking, and mountain biking—the opposite of the stereotypical gendered narrative. Their vacations were outdoor-oriented, like camping in Shenandoah National Park, hiking through different sections of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and road tripping to Chimney Rock in North Carolina where they caught a sighting of Michael Mann before The Last of the Mohicans was released. “I also used to go to West Virginia because it isn’t that far, but certain parts of West Virginia was really rugged.” They were still living in Baltimore, so it was perfect for weekend trips. 

“But what was interesting was that I’ve always been very oblivious to my own Asian identity in some ways and my ex-husband was white. We were dating at the time and when interracial couples, especially in that area, wasn’t common. But I remember going to places like West Virginia and driving through these small little towns… West Virginia has some really beautiful landscapes and so we’d go camping there and go mountain biking and on the way, we’d stop at little local diners and it was moments like that where I realized, Oh, I’m different!” 

She described walking into these restaurants in small, remote towns and being stared down by the white patrons. Sometimes, she felt them staring at her in a menacing way where she and her partner sensed that they might be in danger. This heightened feeling is a fearful experience that many people of color still often relate to. “Moments like that where I was like, Whoa! Alright, I’m different from you and you’re making me know it! To a point where I felt really uncomfortable.” Fortunately, no major incidents ever resulted from those situations, but the memories remain visceral. 

It wasn’t until they made their cross-country move to the west coast that Myoung and her ex-husband experienced a few scary run-ins, like being rounded up by a gang of off-road trucks in the dead of night in rural Oregon. And once she gave birth to her son, Myoung was less impetuous about their nocturnal outdoor adventures. Though there were still occasions: “One time, Brandon was little—he was, I don’t know, maybe 2 or 3?—And right after dinner, I was like, ‘We’re going!’ We left the dirty dishes and everything and just packed the tent and drove.” They wound up driving for over an hour up winding roads to get to a more remote area for star-gazing as Myoung navigated on a paper map. 

Though she wasn’t totally sure where they ended up, they found a clearing and pitched their tent in the dark. They were able to glimpse some stars and camped there overnight. “I’m one of those people, I’ll do things on a whim.” In the middle of the night, she heard odd sounds coming from nearby. Myoung remembers animal-like sounds, but clearly recalled one in particular that gave her chills. “It sounded like someone was tormenting a baby. I barely slept.” She doesn’t remember much about waking up in the morning, except for wanting to get the hell out of there. It was all a blur, but she maintains her characteristic sense of humor and shrugs it off. “So there’s good and bad with exploring!”