Page 61 - NAKS MAC 2026 EBook

2026년 독립기념 ‘코리아 리뷰’ 에세이

Hailey Hwang

The first thing that I remember about the 1919 Independence Movement parade was
how incredibly hot it was that day. I was in second grade and the walk felt endless under the
sun. I was tired, sweaty, hungry, and wondering how much further we had to walk. However,
despite all the heat and tiredness, I also felt something that I didn’t know how to describe at the
time, pride. I was proud to be a Korean. Even at eight years old, I knew that the parade
represented the sacrifices Koreans have made for independence. I just didn’t fully understand
the magnitude of those sacrifices and what it truly meant.
As I grew older, that understanding began to change. As I learned more about the 1919
Independence Movement and the circumstances surrounding it, I began to see history
differently. Back then, I understood that people sacrificed for independence but I imagined the
people as extraordinary figures who were somehow different from people like me. However, that
wasn’t the case. I realized that many of the participants were ordinary people themselves. They
were students, parents, neighbors, and workers who had their own individual hopes, dreams,
and lives. Despite that, they chose to stand up for what they believed. What made them
extraordinary was not who the people were, but rather the things that they were willing to do.
This is so meaningful to me as it shifted my perspective on who gets to change history. I always
thought that people in history books were almost untouchable figures, but learning that they
were ordinary people made their actions more touching.
Another thing that I realized was what the independence movement signified. By
definition, political independence means that a country governs itself without foreign rule, but it
was much deeper than that. Fighting for independence meant working to preserve our identity
that was threatened, including the language, culture, and traditions that I am able to experience
today. These are all things that feel ordinary when they’re just a part of your everyday life.
Conversing in Korean with my family, going to Korean school, and celebrating Korean holidays
are all a part of my identity that I’ve never questioned for a second. Learning history taught me
that this isn’t always guaranteed. The ability to practice and pass down these parts of Korean
culture exists since generations before us were determined to keep their identity from
disappearing.
This history made me look differently at my own experiences in Korean culture. Korean
school has been a constant part of my life, where I’ve been educated on the Korean language,
history, and traditions. For the longest time, it was simply a routine in my life: wake up early, go
to class, learn something new, and wonder when it will be time for lunch. Now, I see it in a
different aspect. Being able to learn Korean and participate in traditions that connect me to my
culture is possible because those before me fought to keep that identity.
My role in Korean school has also given me a chance to keep that flow going. As I help
younger students learn more about language and its culture, I’m not just teaching them
grammar rules from the textbook. I’m teaching others things that was passed down and taught
to me, whether that’s classic childhood songs like 산토끼 or games like 윷놀이. I believe that
those who participated in the independence movement chose to do it to protect an identity that
they believed was worth preserving. Even though I cannot compete with the amount of sacrifice
they have provided, I would like to work to make sure that what they worked so hard for
continues to be present.

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