Ji-Young, Sesame Street’s first Asian-American character, is here.
Coincidentally, I am a 1.5 generation Asian-American, and my name is Ji-Young. Or, it was.
My grandfather named me Ji-Young, but I only had that name for four years of my life. Four years that aren’t even in my memory. At the age of 4, I followed my parents to New Jersey, and as soon as I started attending the American school system, my parents picked an English name for me: Cindy. While I only officially changed my name to Cindy after getting my American citizenship years later, ‘Cindy’ was the name everyone knew me by.
I still vividly remember - a memory that is undoubtedly shared by most Asian-American students - American teachers going down the attendance list and hesitating to pronounce my name. “Ji-Young Park?” Then they awkwardly look at me, a pause, waiting for me to provide an English name. I hated that pause. I quickly learned to calculate where in the attendance list my name would fall, and yelled out “Cindy!” before the teacher even attempted to pronounce my name in front of the other students.
It’s an insignificant memory. I had been so used to it, so used to accepting that we needed to provide English names in an American classroom. I didn’t think of it has hiding my Korean name. And growing up as ‘Cindy’ for most of my life, I had learned to identify more with my English name. I even had to ask my parents numerous times about the meaning of my name. They replied: ‘Ji’ is for ‘Wisdom,’ ‘Young’ is for ‘Beauty’ (the meaning depends on the specific character that is used).
It was an insignificant memory, until my friends started sharing posts of Ji-Young, the new Sesame Street character. I kept seeing this Ji-Young on social media posts, where people celebrated this big step for Asian-Americans. My friends excitedly told me, “Hey, this is your name!” But was it? It was a strange feeling. This Ji-Young was being celebrated everywhere, but I had spent the last twenty something years of my life pushing her away. I wasn’t Ji-Young. I was Cindy. Cindy to my friends, Cindy on social media, Cindy on my job applications.
And honestly, for many Asian-Americans growing up in the 2000s, Korean culture wasn’t something to be celebrated. Having to worry about causing a smell in the cafeteria if you brought a Korean lunch that day (although you made your mom promise not to), having to worry about your clothes smelling like kimchi or other strong Korean ingredients (even though they were your favorite foods). Buying clothes from Hollister and Abercrombie & Fitch and throwing away your ‘Korean-style’ clothes and accessories. Never letting your parents visit your school because the teachers would feel uncomfortable by their accents that were ‘too strong’ (you were always correcting their grammar and being embarrassed, although they were 100% fluent in another language).
Living with two names is constantly balancing two identities. I only let myself be ‘Ji-Young’ at home, but outside, I only let people see ‘Cindy.’
But now, we are (hopefully) in a completely different generation. A different generation for Asian-American kids who are growing up and learning that they can proudly celebrate, and not hide, their culture. For the kids who can see themselves represented in the media.
So welcome, Ji-Young.
I can’t say I see myself in you at all. Rather, I see a completely different version of myself that I would have become had I grown up as a kid in this generation. In you, I see the other Ji-Young’s, the other Asian-Americans who will see themselves in you, and learn to embrace who they are:
Wise, Beautiful, and Courageous.