Header Image/Article Cover via David Pan

han: the cycle of suffering

A Conversation with EJ Koh

by Emily Chu, Treasurer

Local News, Arts & Entertainment

“There is a Korean belief that you are born the parent of the one you hurt most. Watching my father use chopsticks to split chicken katsu, he confesses that I may be the reincarnation of his own father. We finished our waters in silence and walked home chatting about who to blame for where we are. He says, the present is the revenge of the past. Revenge goes too far, I argue. And in our unhappiness, we both want to know that we cannot pay enough. Pain becomes meaning. After this life, I fear I’ll never meet him again.”


EJ Koh’s voice was soft and full of emotion as she opened her book event with her poem “Father in His Old Age.” Hosted by the Mukilteo Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Committee (DEI) at Kamiak’s Performing Arts Center, Koh spoke about her experience writing her memoir, The Magical Language of Others, as well as her new historical fiction novel, Liberators.


The novel takes place in Korea during the 1980’s and explores the generational trauma from love and war. She describes the book as “the willingness to be broken for that which one was not to blame.” She details the experience of Han in her characters and the generational hole of emptiness many are left with. 


Han is a Korean word, often considered an impossible word to translate to English, and is most commonly described as deep feelings of sorrow and grief. The word comes from the chinese character 恨 (Han) which also roughly translates to resentment, hatred, and regret. 


Koh says, “Han by nature is something that refuses to close. There’s this feeling that we have to die with our Han in us.”


Koh’s experience with Han mirrors that of many other Asian-Americans, spurred by the strenuous relationship between mother and daughter. At age fifteen, Koh’s parents left for Korea for a high-paying job, leaving her in America alone for nine years. During those nine years, Koh suffered greatly, as detailed in her memoir. 


Understandably, Koh’s suffering turned into anger and created strong tension between her and her parents. It wasn’t until her first poetry class in college that Koh began to write poetry, mainly about her mother. 


“You’re good at starting a poem, but you have trouble at the turn—the end of the poem,” her teacher had said to her. Her teacher said she was missing magnanimity. Having never heard that word before, Koh asked what it meant.


“It means you have to forgive your mother by the end of the poem or the poem has to

forgive you for not. Otherwise, it’s not a poem. It's a journal or a diary entry but not a poem.”


Forgiveness is a recurring theme in both Koh’s poems and books, and is also a powerful emotion in many Asian cultures. 


In many Asian families, forgiveness is not a request: it's a demand, an anticipated cycle that you are expected to perpetuate. You forgive your parents because they forgave theirs, and you forgive them because they raised you.


Yet, with the blade of generational suffering cutting so profoundly, forgiveness is frequently not granted so readily. The pain of Han is common in many Asian families, the perpetual cycle of suffering that festers like an open wound. It’s the type of torment you can’t let go, the pain you hold on to. 


Contrary to the idealized depictions often portrayed in modern media, there is nothing beautiful about tragedy. Individuals enduring the torrents of tragedy would scarcely label their suffering as beautiful.


However, the concept of Han is undeniably alluring. Han is unresolved, and there is great reluctance to resolve it. As described in her opening poem, Koh argues that resolving Han means forever bidding those you love good bye. Without the presence of Han, the magnetic force that binds one to their family, reincarnation after reincarnation, is no more.


You can find EJ Koh on Instagram @thisisejkoh and on Twitter at @thisisEJKoh.

DISCLAIMER: The opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints expressed by the various authors in this paper do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints of Kamiak High School or The Gauntlet. 

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