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Kintsugi.

For all the Wonder Women.

A Reflection.

There is a piece in my iCloud Pages files entitled, “May 9, 2023 Weeping”.

At the time, I had written this with so much sadness as an American of Korean descent, as a human, but mostly, as a mother who was holding a soon-to-be 3yo then. I didn’t want to share it with the world, because I was breaking - but only with those whom I hold as ‘my people’, my kitchen table people, as Michelle Obama would say - and as Fran Prolman reminded me this summer in Princeton, encouraging a roomful of incredible women to “never neglect your kitchen table.”

My kitchen table.

When I look around it, my people are global, and it’s almost as if they are in unique rooms that hold the essence of me in different moments of Life. A sampling? I hear “I Will Remember You”, “Party Like It’s 1999”; I smell Bougainvilleas, henna ink, and I swear Derek Hough’s sweat (he feels so close on that huge TV screen!); I taste peach & watermelon gummies, tannins of red wine; I feel my eyes turning into crescent moons from laughter and the warmth of my tears; I see Wonder Women.

Wonder women.

Have you met one?

I held space with 34 this summer. I sat with them, ate with them, laughed with them, cried with them, Lego’ed with them. Women who understand that there’s a special place in hell for women who don’t support other women. Women who understand that change happens slowly but are willing to wait patiently without giving up. Women with the wisdom of more decades willing to share the changes that have been made to encourage those of us coming into our own to hold steady, to lift each other up, to show up as our authentic selves to display the wonders we possess as the marvels that we are.

We.

“We're shattering the silence, we're rising, defiant

Shouting in the quiet, ‘You're not alone’

We listened to the demons, we let them get between us

But none of us are out here on our own

[…]

We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back

But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass

the scars are part of me, darkness and harmony

My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like

Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our head?

Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead

Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony

Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like”

K-Pop Demon Hunters on Netflix - if you haven’t watched it, I highly recommend it. My nephews and nieces introduced this to me this summer, and I heard one of its songs play in D-Mart, right here in Vientiane, Laos. And yes, I sang along, involuntarily (or perhaps very voluntarily) bobbing my head, too. Then it hit me. These words capture the essence of this summer’s experience: of being vulnerable, powerful, united with incredible humans who saw the strengths within each other so that we could see them within ourselves. And how grateful I am to have such beauty around my kitchen table.

Today, I share my “May 9, 2023 Weeping” piece in tandem with this one, because it’s a reminder to choose love and compassion over anything else so that our children know how to fill their kitchen table with kindness, authenticity, honesty - humanity - as they grow so that Hatred can't get in edgewise. And though we may never get it ‘perfect’, it’s worth the constant struggle to do our best in each moment - and to do better once (and each time) we know better. And I share now, because I am seeing all the beauty in the broken million pieces and the power in letting the jagged edges meet the light.

Because… it's the art of Kintsugi.

Thank you to all the humans who were part of this summer’s journey with me, providing me with opportunities to learn and mend my pieces with gold. My heart is full to the brim with gratitude, and I am looking forward to the year of me, so that I can live today to the fullest to be ready for the next chapter, whatever that may bring.