On my laptop, you’ll find 
a bookmarked folder labeled 
“Beauty,” which is completely 
filled with articles on KBeauty — 
Korean Beauty, for short. You’ll 
see that my skincare and makeup 
routine is made up of only Korean 
products and that my email inbox 
is cluttered with newsletters from 
Soko Glam, a U.S. website that 
curates KBeauty products, and 
the Klog, a KBeauty blog. Suffice 
to say, you’ll probably come to the 
conclusion that I am a Kbeauty 
obsessive, and you’d be correct.
I’ve used KBeauty for about 
three years now, but it wasn’t until 
last year that I became aware of 
the deeply entrenched colorism 
that is present in KBeauty — and 
in other Asian beauty products 
as well. This manifests itself 
most clearly in skin-whitening 
products, 
products 
that 
are 
marketed, mostly toward women, 
to encourage them to run after 
a colorist, dangerous beauty 
standard of having lighter skin.
It can hide itself in less obvious 
products 
as 
well, 
products 
that aren’t explicitly marketed 
toward whitening one’s skin. 
The key is an ingredient known 
as hydroquinone, which I found 
in a product that did not include 
any packaging about being skin-
whitening; when I had bought it, I 
was not aware of this ingredient or 
that it was used in skin-whitening 

products. Once I learned about it, 
I stopped using the product.
This ingredient, and more 
explicit skin-whitening products, 
don’t just perpetuate a certain 
white American and European 
beauty standard, but can also 
be incredibly harmful to those 
who use them. Physically, it 
can lead to intense cystic acne 
and irreversible skin thinning; 
mentally, it can make one feel less 
adequate, less human for being 
deemed “too dark.”
KBeauty 
has 
also 
lagged 
behind in what’s been called the 
“Fenty effect,” after Rihanna’s 
beauty line that has gained 
acclaim for its numerous (40! 
shades!) and inclusive shades for 
all women, not just white women. 
Meanwhile, 
many 
KBeauty 
products often only offer five or 
six shades, sometimes even as low 
as three.
One could argue that South 
Korea doesn’t have as many 
black and brown folks living 
in the country, and that is why 
they have limited shades. While 
that’s certainly true, it doesn’t 
account for the fact that KBeauty 
has exploded in the U.S. and 
elsewhere, where there are many 
black and brown folks, and many 
who are making their mark in 
the beauty industry and world. If 
KBeauty companies know their 
products are extremely popular to 
users outside of South Korea, then 
they must take into account the 
varying shades of all people.

All of this points to the history 
and continuation of colorism 
within South Korea, as well as in 
many other Asian countries and 
Asian American communities. 
Historically, 
Koreans 
with 
tanner or slightly darker skin 
were associated with the poor 
and farm work, which was often 
looked down upon because they 
were not part of the nobility. The 
valorization and fetishization of 
white skin dates as far back as 

the Gojoseon era, and European 
and 
American 
imperialism 
certainly didn’t help matters in 
the perpetuation of colorism, 
either. Today, South Korea leads 
in cosmetic surgery, and many, 
many people find ways to lighten 
their skin.
So why do I still buy from 
KBeauty companies? I avoid 
the skin-whitening products, of 
course. But when I began my foray 
into KBeauty a few years ago, it 

was because I wanted to clear up 
my skin (which I recognize is a 
beauty standard / norm that I am 
still wrestling with) and because 
a part of me believed that this 
would be a way for me to feel more 
authentically Korean American, 
never mind the fact that there 
isn’t just one way of being 
“authentically” Korean American. 
A part of me still believes that, 
and it is something that I am still 
wrestling with as well.

But there is also some evidence 
that KBeauty companies are 
following in the footsteps of those 
who have widened the beauty 
industry to be more inclusive for 
people of color. There are a few 
KBeauty brands that, while they 
certainly don’t have as many as 
Rihanna’s 40 shades, have more 
than what is normally seen in 
many KBeauty products. It’s 
certainly a start — and yet, there is 
so much more room to grow.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
Monday, April 1, 2019 — 3A

Application Deadline: April 15th 
msfe.illinois.edu

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From those who chased it, to those who nurtured it, to those who fulfilled it, I wanted to understand how these three words shaped each generation in my 
family, and what it meant to each one of us through our greatest successes and regrets.

Accomplishment: “My greatest 
achievement 
in 
my 
eighty-
something years of life…It was 
also the cause of my greatest 
challenges, but it would be 
coming to America. My early 
years of life in Korea was poor...
Dirt poor. I didn’t have electricity, 
my clothes were cheap, and 
daily life was mediocre. A 
sustainable life was unheard of 
– a strange concept to me back 
then – but when I heard about 
the opportunities and almost 
fantasy-like tales of America, I 
just had to. It was my dream… 
for myself, more for my children. 
But achieving that dream was 
difficult in itself… when we made 
payments to come to America 
by plane, we never expected the 
hardships that followed us. I 
was in my thirties, not knowing 
the language or culture, with 
no knowledge in navigating 
the Los Angeles streets. I was a 
mere house painter, while your 
grandmother worked in a sewing 
factory - pause - But it was worth 
it. The dream, it was worth it.”

Regret: “My greatest regret 
is the most obvious one – which 
I failed to realize back then – 
was not learning how to speak 
English. I came with the mindset 
that we were too old to adopt 
a new language… And plus, 
working non-stop at various 
blue-collar jobs didn’t give me 
time to sit down and open a book 
to learn English. I was too busy. 
At the same time, I assumed 
that my kids, who went to public 
American schools back then, 
would help me if I ran into any 
issues with my broken English. 
I didn’t realize that even though 
we lived in Koreatown – the 
neighbors spoke Korean, the 
restaurants were all Korean, 
even the dogs that roamed the 
streets were of that Korean jindo 
kind – everything was still in 
English. Looking back, it caused 
a lot of misunderstandings and 
problems in my life, even to the 
point where I had lost money.”
 

Eating out used to be a 
delicacy. I once longed for the 
rare weekends when my family 
would go out to a restaurant like 
Olive Garden or even a fast food 
chain like Taco Bell. I shake my 
head when I remember how I 
once gagged at the food my mom 
spent hours preparing for us. 
Home-cooked Gujarati meals 
— the same meals I rejected 
years ago by sticking out my 
tongue — is now a blessing I’m 
rarely afforded, but it’s one that 
I humbly accept when I get the 
chance. The presence of spice 
and a distinct savory scent 
dominates my taste buds and 
nostrils where the bland pizza 
and salads of the dining halls 
don’t even stir me.
Yet Gujarati food is more than 
just something that feels good 

to eat. It’s through these foods, 
these spices and these smells 
that I remain connected to who 
I am and where I come from. For 
as much as my language skills 
may deteriorate, my religious 
beliefs may lose conviction, 
and my family members may 
become distant, what binds all of 
this together is an appreciation 
for the cuisine. I speak Gujarati 
with precision while asking my 
grandma about the dhokla she 
cooked. My parents tell me the 
importance of giving prasad as 
an offering to the Hindu deities. 
My cousins and I can always 
bond at the dinner table as we 
eat rice and daal.
As my conception of being 
Gujarati continues to fall apart, 
food is the constant that keeps 
me grounded in my culture and 
my upbringing. When I warm 
up food from my mom in the 
microwave, the smell reminds 

me of the time and care she 
puts into feeding her two sons. 
When I open up the fridge to 
grab a container, I see my dad 
carefully filling those containers 
and handing them to me. When 
I take a bite, I flashback to my 
grandma feeding it to me as a 
toddler who couldn’t even hold 
a spoon.
Indian food is more than 
just sustenance: It is a cultural 
element 
that 
sustains 
my 
connection with my family and 
my identity. No matter how 
well I abide to the standards 
of being Gujarati or an Indian-
American, I remain confident 
that our food will be like a 
trail of breadcrumbs. Should I 
choose to follow it, I will find 
contentment with my future 
cultural 
engagement 
while 
being able to look back and 
remember where I came from. 

Whenever a relative from 
India 
can’t 
understand 
my 
broken Gujarati and says to just 
speak English, the thought comes 
up. Whenever I go to mandir 
to pray and don’t know what to 
say or think, the thought comes 
up. Whenever an international 
student from the Motherland 
makes an offhand comment 
about how I’m not really Indian, 
the thought comes up.
I think that I’m not Indian. I 
think that I’m a first generation 
college student who can never 
know his culture as well as his 
parents. I can’t ever be a real 
Hindu. I can’t maintain the 
traditions my family tried to 
preserve and instill in me. I’m 
not Indian.
Reconciling an Indian cultural 
background with an American 

upbringing is a moment-to-
moment 
struggle. 
When 
I 
introduce myself to someone, I 
stutter. Should I say my name 
the way I’ve said it my whole 
life? Or should I say it the way 
my family and any Indian person 
says it? Either way feels wrong. 
I don’t even try to speak Hindi, 
and when I try to make small 
talk in Gujarati with family, 
they just end up switching to 
English anyway to accomodate 
my bumbling demeanor. Even 
though my identity on most 
documents is Indian American, 
the second identifier feels more 
prevalent than the first.
Despite the vast cultural divide 
I feel among relatives, there 
is a response to this notion of 
Indian-ness. Not only is there no 
explicit rulebook dictating what 
it means to be Indian, but it’s not 
necessary either to try and group 
yourself into these one size fits all 
monoliths. Being Indian should 

not come at the expense of my 
own sense of self. I can care about 
Indian culture without beating 
myself up over not abiding by 
arbitrary nonexistent guidelines. 
What’s more useful to focus on 
is my own personal identity. 
I don’t have to say I’m Indian 
or American or any particular 
binary label for identity. What I 
can use to identify myself is my 
appreciation for Indian culture, 
whether that is the food, the 
celebrations, or my family. I 
can 
consider 
my 
American 
upbringing 
without 
feeling 
guilty too. Being in this country 
has cultivated within me a sense 
of individualism, an appreciation 
for different cultures, and a 
pursuit of knowledge that make 
me thankful and proud to have 
grown up here. I am an Indian-
American, and I don’t have to 
keep on questioning what it 
means to be one. I’m already 
doing what is right.

Generation One: Chasers of the American 
Dream | Son Tae Shik (85) Translated from 
Korean.

Generation 
Two: 
Nurturers 
of 
the 
American Dream | Son Kyung-il (53)
Generation 
Three: 
Fulfilment 
of 
the 
American Dream | Son Haneur (19)

Accomplishment: 
“My 
greatest 
achievement 
- chuckle - would be my 
children – you guys. I can’t 
even comprehend my ability 
to love someone, the fact that 
I’m able to have that much 
love for someone. Whatever 
[my 
two 
daughters] 
do, 
I 
always 
feel 
proud… 
You’ll 
become 
a 
parent 
and understand… To see 
them grow with abundant 
opportunities, to see them 
adopt two different cultures, 
it’s a blessing. That would 
be my biggest achievement 
– to build our life here so 
that it would be enough for 
my two daughters… If I lose 
everything, it doesn’t matter. 
I have my family by my side. 
That’s why I’m happy. As 
long as I have my children.”
Regret: “Hmm.. regrets? 
This one is tough… I would 
say I regret my habit of 
avoidance. What I mean 
to say is that I used to 
constantly flee from my 

problems. 
Relational 
problems, 
problems 
at 
school, or at work… I tried 
to escape, rather than face 
them. When I was young, 
especially 
after 
coming 
right to America, there was 
the issue of language and 
adjusting… I was already 
17 when I arrived here… 
I remember when I got 
rejected from college, they 
offered me a chance to 
appeal. I thought it was too 
much work so I decided to go 
to a college that just accepted 
me instead… Because I kept 
hiding from my fears, every 
time these same problems 
would occur over and over 
again, 
they 
were 
every 
bit discouraging and self-
hindering. I wish I had been 
more bold back then, wish I 
had the courage to be more 
proactive… but it’s still never 
too late to change my habit, 
even now.”

Accomplishment: 
“I 
can’t 
say I’ve accomplished quite 
a lot in my 19 years of life, but 
my greatest accomplishment 
so far… as predictable as this 
may be, would be college. 
Being accepted and going to 
a university may seem like a 
almost-shallow, societal metric 
of how “well” you’re playing the 
game of life. But reflecting back 
on the previous interviews with 
my parents and grandparents, I 
know this “achievement” hasn’t 
been on my own, but decades in 
the making. What makes this 
so important to me is that my 
grandmother never received 
any form of college education. 
My grandfather attended a local 
college, only to spend his life as 
a house painter. My father and 
mother were able to attend state 
colleges, despite their language 
barrier and underprivileged 
households. 
My 
education 
means the world to me because 
not only am I learning for 
myself, but on behalf of my 
family who has gotten me to 

this point in life…I had selfishly 
assumed this opportunity – or 
gift – of education should have 
been given to me, but now I am 
eternally grateful for it.”
Regret: “My regret – and also 
my motivator – is not realizing 
this sooner. I remember going 
through a stage of “I can’t 
wait to leave my family and 
become independent,” hence 
my 
decision 
of 
choosing 
Michigan. But now I’ve wished 
I spent more time with them, 
with 
greater 
appreciation 
and understanding of their 
hardships. It’s so easy to assume 
their lives were as cushioned as 
mine – since the world I was 
born into, and only ever known 
is what they have provided me 
with. As I look to the future, 
I’m encouraged and excited to 
take use of all the chances I’ve 
been given, because that’s what 
my parents – and grandparents 
– have struggled long and hard 
for.”
 

KAYLEAH SON
MiC Columnist

ARJUN THAKKAR
MiC Columnist

ARJUN THAKKAR
MiC Columnist

Three Generations

Gujarati food: The spices 
that bind a culture together
Reconciling with identity: Stop 
worrying about how to be Indian

Three-generations impacted by three words: The American Dream.

MONICA KIM
MiC Columnist

Korean beauty and colorism

