I have a complicated relationship with the Korean language. Can't read a lick of it and all I can write are the lines I memorized for my own name.
It was the first language I learned. It's the first language I've forgotten.
Sometime ago I was told for the first few years of their marriage my father didn't know my mom could speak English. That certainly made some things make sense. Every home movie from before Kindergarten has me speaking Korean. It's strange watching myself speak a language that I no longer can. My memories certainly aren't segregated, they just flow.
My inability to speak it doesn't really make sense. I can still understand a fair amount and there was never a period of rebellion where I refused to speak it. Adults in my life kept speaking it. I apparently even sleep talk in Korean on occasion. But when I'm awake there is a strange clumsiness to my tongue when I try and make the sounds. The syllables stumble out in pieces.
I have a complicated relationship with the Korean language. It was the sound of growing up, it was the sound of home. It has that strange comfort. But it's also the language my parents fought in. I wish I could say they did it to keep their children from understanding but that would give them too much credit. My mother moved to the States at 22. If she was going to scream, argue and express herself it was going to be in Korean. And inadvertently it did shield my younger brothers to an extent; A gradient as we got younger. But I was the first born, I knew, I understood. The fights were about nothing and that made them so much worse.
I wrote this here because there is a much shorter, simpler explanation regarding my relationship with the Korean language. I know and understand what I am familiar with; what my parents used with us and each other. I know how to say "I love you" and "Thank you". But I don't know "You're Welcome". That wasn't one I remember hearing growing up.