Two

My mother is strong, stubborn, and like many Asian mothers, overprotective.

My mother moved to the states in her thirties without knowing any English. After living in the United States for thirty years, my mother acclimated to the culture and had often surprised me with her progressiveness. But today wasn’t that day. Today, I called my mother because I wanted to share with her my plans to be engaged with my boyfriend and ask for her blessing. I could hear the panic grow in her voice. She began to shower me with questions.

Aren’t you rushing this?

Why now?

Does this mean you’re going to move away?

She kept asking me to stay and not to leave. After hours of arguing, her panic transformed into defeat: “I mean nothing to you.”

I’ve heard these words time and time again throughout my life. The feeling of frustration overwhelmed me. In an outburst, I screamed “Stop it! Why do you do this to yourself? Could you please give yourself some more respect?”

There was silence. On the other side of the line, I heard her silently weeping. Speaking slowly and softly, a weak voice came out of the woman I viewed as indestructible. “보민 (Bo Min), thank you and I’m sorry.” We hung up and I fell asleep with the words “thank you and I’m sorry” echoing in my mind.

————

I have two identities. My friends and colleagues know me as Ivy. My family knows me as 보민 (Bo Min).

That phone call with my mother is only a bit of 보민’s (Bomin's) life that never bleeds into Ivy’s.

A few years ago my older sister asked me if I ever questioned my identity. She continued to tell me she gets confused about who she’s supposed to be because of her two given names. I didn’t think much about it, but over time this “dual-identity” crisis continued to ring in my mind. I began to take note of who I was depending on the environment I was in.

Ivy is ambitious, organized, hardworking, and creative. She lives a free life but her confidence is frequently shaken. She often feels undeserving of her successes and fears being rejected from the communities she worked hard to play a role in. She is strong but finds herself regretting her actions instead of being grateful for learning from them.

보민 (Bomin) is outgoing, short-tempered, scary, messy, and unapologetic to her family. She is the glue that prevents her mother from leaving and sister from being outcasted. She holds her tongue and endured years of hateful speech about her intelligence, weight, and choices. Her family wanted her to live a Christian lifestyle—but never lived up to that expectation. She believes that her family sees her as someone who will continually break their hearts.

When I look back to all the photos I have taken throughout my life, I realize I have a dichotomy of styles depending on who I decide to be that day. Out of all those photos, I continue to be drawn to the koi fish in Dos Lagos (Two Lakes). The haze distorts my view while peering into the water -- much like how my two selves observe one another.

I’m confused. I have a hard time accepting and defining my personality, but I don’t blame anyone for that. There are many people who can relate, just as my sister did. I’ll eventually come to find out who I am and accept myself for it. But for now, I am not just Ivy or 보민 (Bomin), or even both simultaneously. I am one person who embodies two personalities.

I am two.

————

I took the photo at the edge of a lake bed on an overcast day on an iPhone 8+. I was aiming to get a photo with the most amount of koi fish in one shot. I bent over the water for a considerable amount of time until I knew I had a photo that I would be happy with. I then took it back and processed the photo in both Photoshop and VSCO.