Trick or Treat

Happy Halloween to all those who celebrate

My first memory of Halloween is from when we were new to the United States and my grandfather — who had moved in with us to watch me while my parents worked — called my father in a panic. He said children were at our door begging for candy and we didn’t have any.

At that time, Halloween wasn’t a thing in South Korea. So the idea that American kids were going from door to door asking for treats was literally a foreign concept for my grandfather. Not wanting to disappoint the children, he ended up giving each child a nickel (which at the time could buy a nice selection of candy). The kids left happy.

I remember when I was maybe 15 or so, I answered our door to pass out candy to some high school boys. They were tall, loud and rude. One made a huge show of being disgusted by the smell of the dinner my mother was cooking. He made racist remarks about what it must be. Reader, it was bulgogi and it was delicious.

I wish I had told the boy to go home and eat the ground-hooves-lips-and-snouts that his mom was making for their non disgusting hot dog dinner. But, alas, I was scared of him. All of them, actually.

Before I could shut the door on them, he and his friends grabbed the basket of candy I was holding and took almost all of it. As they ran away, I could hear them ching chonging me.

I was filled with a combination of rage and shame that most likely could have been assuaged by dropkicking their huge blockheads across the street. But that was a just a fleeting thought. I was outnumbered and smaller than them. My brother was away in college. And I didn’t get my parents, because I wanted to protect them from these racist shitheads.

After his friends ran off, one of the boys apologized, which was a nice but ultimately empty gesture. Apologizing after the fact does nothing to stop racism. Maybe it absolved the guilt by association that he felt, but it didn’t address the real issues: his blond friends. Maybe he was scared of them, too.

Halloween is a weird day for me. As an adult, I love seeing all the kids in their creative costumes and I enjoy giving them as much candy as they want. They are full of please and thank you. The teenage boys, too.

But what I have realized is that all those memories that I internalized were traumatic for my younger self and, in some ways, they still are. People deal with damage in different ways. My sister, for instance, said she doesn’t remember all these things happening to her. They did, but she chose to forgive and was able to forget.

I used to daydream about how I could fight back. If I could go back in time, I’d hand the child version of me a pair of nunchucks and show her how to use them. *Just for science, you know?

Have fun trick or treating, everyone. Stay safe. And don’t be an asshole.

*Sigh, because someone will misunderstand: Clearly, I am not advocating the actual use of violence. I am advocating for the dissolution of assholery though.

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