I'm an external processor. I can talk and talk and talk about my shit.
writing has been really helpful in doing a lot of processing during my time here in corea, in the aloneness and solitude of this experience. the things that I've been thinking about and feeling, the significant shifts in my worldview and perspectives, I think, are specifically situated in this context of being on the ancestral lands for an extended period of time, with the particular analytical framework and psychosomatic practices that I embody in this moment in time. writing has helped me process so much of what I've been think-feeling, not having many close ones who can relate and fully understand.
but in the past couple of months, I really experienced the limitations of words.
I think I became such an external processor in the attempt to reclaim voice. to practice dissipating shame by speaking the unspoken. in therapy and beyond, I further learned to be articulate with words. it was a very helpful survival skill as a racialized femme, Mad, former college dropout who otherwise wasn't taken seriously.
words and external processing have and continue to serve me so well. and yet, what do you do when words just aren't enough? what english words? or even korean words? could fully encapsulate the reverberating, paradigm-shifting transformations of an anti-imperialist queer kyopo settler femme trying to make (full-being ie. cognitive/somatic/spiritual) sense of repairing relationships across space and time, borders and generations? (I'd like to become skilled enough of a writer, and fluent enough in korean, to be able to have more access to such words one day.)
when the words didn't come, I let the sounds emerge. I began to shake, then began to cry. I remembered jenn's words of crying into the earth when it feels too much for my body to hold. and I allowed myself to do just that. I leaned in. and what needed to emerge and flow, emerged and flowed. and the words, they are slowly coming now. I feel them on the horizon, two months after this big cry—what I call the big diasporic break-through-and-down-and-out.
in my ongoing somatic practice, I'm continuing to learn that not everything needs to be organized into words right away. I get to take my time. simmer. keep it to myself or let it emerge in non-verbal ways.
the last time I wrote something for substack, I said that I didn’t have any big thoughts. I genuinely didn’t think I did, but my big diasporic break-through-down-and-out arrived only a couple of days after that post was published
in that moment, I realized—all at once—that everything is changing for me. my understandings of being of diaspora. the fluidity of liminality. the disinterest in a static belongingness. rebuilding secure relationship to ancestral land. the complexity of recognizing the range of forced displacement vs. voluntary migration and yet the undeniable diasporic proximity to the west. repairing through rupture between diasporic koreans in the west and korea-based koreans. the relationships needed in the pursuit of indigenous sovereignty around the world. political analysis on a global scale. diasporic joy. diasporic joy. diasporic JOY. exchange and mutuality in bridge-building work. everything is changing for me. and it feels so joyful, so liberatory, and I cried because any change can come with grief.
I'm looking forward to articulating all of this... slowly. I already know it'll be messy. and perhaps (as in definitely) there's a part of me that expects me to write up an essay that so succinctly illustrates it all into one brilliant web of ideas. so I guess I need to go back to rethinking perception and performance. the whole topic of writing and being a writer is a loaded one for me (gabes knows). but we'll see how this shapes up. I think I'm ready to start again.
some noteworthy moments, mentions & observations from the past two months:
I said goodbye to my friends in jeju at the end of august, spent 2 weeks in busan, and then visited my platonic lover, gabes torres, in the philippines. I spent a lot of solo time in busan, recovering from a very social week of goodbyes in jeju. then I got to embrace gabes IRL! we’ve been such good friends/lovers for 3 years but it was our first time meeting in person. ph with g was such a glorious, magical time of diasporic joy, brainfucking and love. shoutout to g who is probably the main person who shares many of these new understandings that I’m experiencing. getting to process a lot of my thoughts/feelings with them in english, after 3.5 months of mostly korean-speaking interactions was the integration break that I needed.
my korean has improved significantly in terms of speaking. what a joy it is to befriend locals and make so many memories. although I feel like I’ve regressed a bit due to my solo time in busan and not speaking any korean in ph, I feel so much more confident in my speaking, as well as reading. I don’t feel a huge overwhelming obstacle to reading korean anymore! this is big.
I’m hoping to write about my time in the philippines. I’ve been thinking a lot about less unethical travel and it was really special for me to go to the philippines for the first time as an invited guest (while recognizing my power & privileges as someone of global north (korea & canada) visiting the global south).
yay to me for living out my 2023 intention of erotic body joy 💦✨
I have less than a month left until I go home (the home that is familiar to me, where I grew up, where my family and most of my community is. not home as in belonging to the land. not home as in devoted to the nation state.) and I’m really looking forward to the small things. the softness and familiarity of my own bed. my plant bb’s. the way the golden sunlight shines on my wall of local art at dusk. the smell of my dog. getting to say “good morning 동생~” to my sibling every day.