On Being Related

The birds sing enthusiastically in this morning’s drizzle though the skies are still dark. My laptop opened to an op-ed piece in the NY Times by a Korean-American woman, Mihee Kim-Kort, who is a Presbyterian minister, theologian pondering motives for the shooting of eight in Atlanta last week.

Rev Kim-Kort begins the piece by referring to the Korean practice of using filial names rather than given names. As the oldest in the family, her parents referred to each other as “mi-omma” (“Mihee’s mother”) and “mi-appa” (“Mihee’s father”) after her birth. Before Rev. Kim-Kort knew their names, she thought of the Korean women killed in the shootings as Daughter, Big Sister, Mother, and Aunt. Rev. Kim-Kort suggests that this custom of relational labeling reflects the Korean understanding that we are inseparable from who we love and who we are loved by.

All of us are sons and daughters—murderers and victims alike. Many of us have brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles. We may have sons and daughters and non-binary children ourselves. We may still live with or near our parents and grandparents or they may no longer or may never have been part of our lives. But we are all related.

Family is a blessing and a struggle. In close families, we may have to fight for enough space to feel that we can be seen for who we really are. In a distant family, each member can feel alone and cut off. Yet our relationships and the issues of our family of origin are with us through our lives. What we learned, how we were treated, what was acknowledged, what was hidden—all this stays with us as the great source and the great challenge of our lives.

Acknowledging and appreciating our connection to each other begins with understanding our connection with the particular gifts and burdens of our familial heritage. None of us are independently appearing individuals that get to create ourselves ex-nihilo. We are all wired through our biology and through our upbringing to see certain things and not others. Studies show that our capacities to distinguish one face from another is directly related to the faces we see in our world in the first years of our lives. To individuals who have never seen ‘white’ faces as children, their capacity to distinguish one from another is physiologically limited.

The issues of our family come down through us and are our opportunity to make a difference. Each successive generation works the rich soil of confusion and clarity that has been passed on. To work with the legacy of our ancestors requires humility and determination because these inherited forces are both subtle and fierce. Going beyond simply enacting the beliefs and blindnesses of our ancestors requires intention and effort over time.

Rev. Kim-Kort goes on to say that the Atlanta killer was responding to a toxic brew of anti-Asian and anti-woman prejudice as well as to the ‘purity culture’ of conservative white Christian teachings—what she calls ‘toxic theology’ that leads to an ‘extreme fear of God and an equally extreme self-loathing.’ Another perspective is that the Atlanta killer was just a disturbed human being with mental illness. Perhaps the correct answer can only be ‘all of the above.’

But the birds sing undaunted and the morning light gives brings shape and color to the world outside my window. My eyes see and my ears hear. We are all related—to each other and to the calling birds and to the rain that falls this morning to bless and nourish the flowers. Let us not forget.