Jin In

New York, United States

What is the one word that describes you? Gardener

It was the last keynote of the conference—Growing Girls for Greatness, 2005 National Girls Initiative/Florence Crittenton Roundtable. The speaker was reflecting on her life with thirty-six different foster parents. Even now as an accomplished woman, her only dream is to call someone a “Ma-Ma.”

It hit me then—why I felt so passionate about what I was doing, and why I must continue the effort. It’s because I have someone to call Ma-Ma. Not only do I have a mother who didn’t give me up when things were unbearable for her, but also I have non-biological mothers who have graced my life. I call these ladies angels, as literally they have been angels in my life, guiding, mentoring, and loving me unconditionally. They have instilled strength in me and have taught me to reciprocate this strength. These phenomenal women, including my mother, will never know the profound impact they have had in my life, and my mission is to extend their love to girls around the world.

My life’s journey so far has been an interesting one. I was born in Seoul, Korea, to an affluent family. My economic status changed abruptly, however, after my father passed away when I was seven months old. He left us too soon, and without a will. Because Korean property laws in those days did not recognize wives as blood relatives, my mother was excluded from the family’s multi-million dollar estate.

To make the situation worse, our house was robbed a few months after my father’s passing, everything of value was taken. The burglars knew about the recent passing of my father—and the defenseless wife and two daughters he left behind. They knew it would be easy money.

These tragic events left my mother traumatized and on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Not only was my father her sole financial support, but he was also everything she lived for. She had a college degree but, like most women in her social circle, she’d never felt the need to work. Instead, she had envisioned a life as a good housewife, supporting a successful husband who had aspirations of going into politics.

But life is unpredictable, and we face challenges when we least expect them. When my father passed away, my mother’s world turned up side down and she saw very little hope in life. Not only were people treating her differently, but she knew what my sister and I, as fatherless children, would face. Other children would tease and treat us cruelly. Therefore she reluctantly decided to move to the United States. Socially, economically, and practically, it was the only option she saw.

Unfortunately there was one caveat to this plan—my sister and I could not go with her. In a foreign country with a language she didn’t speak, combined with no job training or experience, she knew it would be difficult to take care of us. Therefore my grandfather offered to raise us in Korea while she worked diligently in the U.S., hoping that soon, she could bring us to be with her.

I remember vividly the day my mother left Korea. After spending the afternoon playing at the zoo, she told my sister and me that she was going on a trip. She promised to return soon with lots of gifts for us. Riding piggyback on my grandmother’s back, I waved cheerfully good-bye. I was looking forward to the gifts she’d bring back.

My mother’s trip lasted almost five years. During this time of separation, my family told me that my mother and my father—yes, my father—were working in the United States, but that one day soon, my sister and I would join them. I received birthday and holiday gifts addressed from both my mother and father. I also received phone calls, but of course, my father was conveniently on business trips every time. My whole family played along, and I believed them.

But this make-believe world came to an end on December 5, 1980. My sister and I flew to Houston, Texas, where our mother was waiting with open arms. It was then that I learned about the death of my father, but the news didn’t surprise me. Having lived almost five years without my parents, I was grateful to be with at least one now. And to be honest, I was more excited about my new life in the United States.

My life only got better. I excelled socially and academically, as angels came into my life to guide me. My third grade teacher helped me come out of my shell by teaching me to be proud of my heritage. In a predominately white school, I was the center of attention on International Day, a day when different ethnicities were celebrated. Also my English as a Second Language (ESL) teacher gave me special attention, and as I quickly picked up English, she taught me how to help new students. My fifth grade teacher also provided academic encouragement, and on graduation day I received the majority of the awards. It was then I knew I could do anything I wanted and I was my own limitation.

But the greatest saint of all was Barbara Crocker. Many called her “Betty Crocker” for her amazing baking. She not only taught me how to bake, but she also opened a whole new world of an American lifestyle. She introduced me to football games and dances, manicures and hairdos—everything my immigrant mother didn’t know much about.

The most important thing Barbara taught me was service and standing up for those who are vulnerable. Not by words but by action, she demonstrated acts of love. We visited homes where older residents lived and befriended those who seemed forgotten. We volunteered at the Parkinson’s Foundation and other health care facilities specializing in rehabilitation.

Barbara loved everyone—all ethnic, socio-economic, and age groups—and discriminated against no one; she wasn’t afraid of the projects. In one of the most impoverished neighborhoods in Houston, an area many Houstonians avoid, she introduced me to Ms. Lillie Ruth Warren. Ms. Warren was an older African-American woman who had worked for a wealthy white family all her life. She didn’t have any children or much family, and because she had suffered a stroke, she couldn’t speak or move easily. The neighborhood kids knew about Ms. Warren’s condition. Many would take advantage of her, using her phone to make long distance calls or stealing her food. Thus Barbara became Ms. Warren’s guardian, looking out for her and advocating for her to anyone who gave Ms. Warren trouble—pharmacists and other health care professionals, looters, and businessmen who were after her property.

After a while, I too looked after Ms. Warren. It wasn’t difficult. All it took was regular visits and surveillance of her belongings. Looking back, it was I who was the recipient of a greater love. I will never forget one Thanksgiving Day. I had promised Ms. Warren I’d spend it with her since I knew she spent most holidays alone. To my surprise when I arrived, Ms. Warren had a picture perfect Thanksgiving meal waiting just for me. Everything was homemade, including the pecan pie, as seen on the cover of a gourmet food magazine. Even with limited mobility, she had cooked for days to surprise her special guest—me! It touched my heart and she made me feel like a queen, as she prepared a meal fit for a queen. She demonstrated love, pure and simple.

Unfortunately soon thereafter, Barbara was diagnosed with a disease that no one seemed to be able to help. She had an autoimmune disease called Lupus, and Houston, with the largest medical center in the world, couldn’t cure my Barbara. I began to research and the more I learned, the more I wondered if a cure didn’t exist because Lupus occurred mainly in women. As a matter of fact, I became disillusioned with medicine and the health care system, as they seemed to have forgotten women. For instance, it wasn’t until 1990 that women and minorities were required to be included in clinical research studies.

Health care isn’t the only discrimination women face, and America isn’t the only country where this occurs. The sad fact is that worldwide women and girls are treated as second-class citizens, even today. I’ve witnessed this stark reality firsthand in East Asia, Central America, and Europe, and I have no doubt it exists all over the world. The more I travel and live abroad, the more I see the grim reality of extreme poverty that women and girls face in addition to being vulnerable to sex trafficking, violence, malnutrition, HIV/AIDS, and on and on.

Thus I have made it my mission in life to be the voice of women and girls, particularly for those who are never given the opportunity for their voices to be heard. I want to champion women’s causes and advocate for women’s issues not because I have to but because I can. I’ve been given this opportunity because of women like Barbara, Ms. Warren, and my mother. Barbara taught and demonstrated service, particularly for those who are forgotten and vulnerable. Ms. Warren showed me love and the greatest gift one can give is love. Most importantly, my mother sacrificed her life so that I can become who I am today.

I once heard that the most precious things in life are free. I truly believe this, but we must work hard to never forget this. My generation of women does have it easier than women before our time. We have more opportunities economically, socially, and politically. But even now, this is only for a selected group of women and it’s not experienced worldwide.

Recently, I returned to my birth country and saw the life I could have had if my father was still alive. It could have been the privileged life many desire. But I knew it wasn’t for me because it would have meant losing my voice. Therefore I see the fate of my life as a blessing, to speak on behalf of girls whose voices may never be heard.

While back in Korea, I also learned that after my father’s death, his family had given my mother an alternative option to moving to America. They promised her enough money to get by, and in return she would never see my sister and me again. Although this may sound unfathomable, it was actually the practical solution, as having kids would limit her chances of getting remarried in Korea. This option would also ensure that my sister and I would be well taken care of financially. But this wasn’t what my mother chose. Instead, she chose me, and now, I must help those who haven’t been chosen.

I imagine a world where every young woman recognizes her own strength and is given the opportunity to voice her strength. I’d like to inspire future generations of women to have the strength to not only change the world but to change themselves. Hopefully my story will be a seed, a seed that will plant a life of hope in their lives.