Drama for Documentary

Slight snag in my documentary production: The 95-year-old Nam-Soo Kim, legendary acupuncturist who has been visiting the GD Institute of Integrated Medicine in Duluth, had to return home to South Korea for a court appearance, as the email below informs me.

It is not clear when he will be allowed to return to the United States, where he serves as a consultant for two clinics, including the one in Duluth.

Drats!

Kim, master acupuncturist, has an almost cult following in South Korea where he has been practicing the Asian healing methods of acupuncture and moxibustion for more than 70 years. Sources tell me that Master Kim rankled fellow acupuncturists when his nonprofit organization sponsored a clinic offering free acupuncture. The free treatments, given to hundreds of patients, were administered by volunteers who were not licensed to practice acupuncture.

Does Acupuncture Hurt?

On a recent weekday, Samuel Lee, senior Oriental medicine doctor and licensed acupuncturist with GD Institute of Integrated Medicine, took time from his busy schedule to show me the tools of his trade: an assortment of disposable needles!

"Does acupuncture hurt," I asked.

"You be the judge," he smiled.


Here I am with several needles in my hand and arm, and I am happy to report that I experienced no pain -- from either the needles or, later, from my carpal tunnel! This is not typical! An ordinary patient with carpal tunnel would require six to eight weekly treatments before experiencing significant pain relief or healing, Lee said.

Whew! I'm so glad to receive confirmation once again that I am not ordinary!

Please stay tuned. I will be visiting the GD Institute of Integrated Medicine in Duluth throughout the semester to learn more about acupuncture and the life of the 90+-year-old Nam Soo Kim, who has been practicing acupuncture for more than 70 years and who is considered a legend in South Korea.

Hope for the Uninsured

Photo courtesy of New Hope Medical Center in Duluth: www.newhopecare.com

New Hope Medical Center in Duluth is offering hope to those who cannot afford health insurance, and the Korean American population in Gwinnett County is taking notice.

Since its unveiling two months ago, more than 700 uninsured families in Gwinnett County, or 2,500 people, have signed up for New Hope's medical membership plan, according to SK Hong, public relations coordinator for New Hope. Most of the members are Korean Americans, the target market for the first phase of implementation, Hong said.

The plan, which costs $60 per month for a family of four, allows members to receive medical treatment at New Hope Medical Center and partner medical offices at the same prices charged Medicaid and Medicare patients. That is a typical savings of 70 percent, said Dr. Peter K. Lee, New Hope chairperson. Some services, such as dental cleanings, cancer screenings, and basic examinations are free of charge once a year, he said.

Dr. Peter K. Lee, New Hope Medical Center Chairperson

"Right now we are testing the ground, forming the infrastructure," Lee said, adding that New Hope has been investigating supplementary hospitalization plans that would help patients with catastrophic illnesses. New Hope is able to offer services at substantially reduced rates by eliminating the need for insurance and billing clerks as well as other administrative costs related to insurance processing, Lee said.

The New Hope Medical Center houses 14 specialty clinics in its three-story Duluth medical facility, including internal medicine, pediatrics, gynecology, family practice, dentistry, opthalmology, urology, imaging, and ear/nose/throat. The center also has an integrated medicine practice that includes traditional Asian healing modalities such as acupuncture and moxibustion.

Plan members can also receive reduced rates for some hospital services through a partnership with Emory St. John's Hospital in Gwinnett County and two hospitals in Seoul, Korea.

Lack of access to health care is the number one issue facing Korean Americans in the Atlanta area, according to Helen Kim, director of advocacy and education for the Center for Pan Asian Community Services. "Three out of five Korean Americans are not insured because most are small business owners," she said.

High medical care costs prevent many patients from receiving important follow-up care, Lee said, which often leads to even costlier complications. He said he hopes the lower costs for preventative care will encourage better health through continuity of treatment.

"What happens is when you have private pay patients, they will come in for new patient visits but will not show up for follow-up visits because the cost is just too much," Lee said. "Then, what happens is they end up in the emergency room, being hospitalized because of uncontrolled high blood pressure, uncontrolled diabetes, and that is going to cost a huge amount."

Census Awareness Day

Brightly colored balloons and banners bobbed and waved in the wind Saturday morning, as community volunteers shared information about the upcoming Census with Hmart shoppers. The awareness event was sponsored by the Atlanta chapter of the Korean American Coalition.

The event was held at the 60,000-square-foot Super Hmart on Pleasant Hill Road in Duluth. The upscale Asian grocer store attracts thousands of shoppers each week. Hmart was founded in 1982 as a small corner market in Queens, New York, by Korean immigrant Il Yeon-Kwon.

New Jersey-based Hmart has received national praise for promoting Census awareness among Asian Americans. The upscale grocery chain owns five stores in Georgia, which has the second fastest-growing Asian American population in the country, according to Census data.
Catherine M. Lee-Park (left), partnership specialist with the U.S. Census Bureau, preaches the importance of being counted in the Census to Korean Americans she sees at Hmart. According to a 2008 Census survey, 54,000 Koreans live in the state of Georgia. Community leaders believe the true count is closer to 120,000.
Historically Koreans and other minority groups have been undercounted in the Census “Education and awareness are needed,” Lee-Park said.

Census employees set up a makeshift office under a tent Saturday morning to stuff 1,500 plastic bags with literature and freebies. The U.S. Census Bureau employs some 1.4 million seasonal workers to count the approximate 300 million people living on American soil.

Census forms are available in six languages, including Korean. Help is available in 59 languages. The Census is conducted once every 10 years, as required by the U.S. Constitution.

Snippets of conversations in English, Korean, Japanese, and Chinese mingled in the breeze as volunteers chatted with Hmart customers about the importance of being counted in the upcoming Census.

Community volunteers Michael Park (left) and Ike Chi enjoyed the nippy weather and sense of camaraderie at Saturday's event.

Many immigrant populations need to be reassured that their private information is safe, said Lee-Park. "The Census does not ask for social security numbers or driver's license numbers or citizenship status," she said.

"Census counts are directly tied to the federal dollars communities receive for important services such as education, social services, and other community development opportunities,” asserted Lee-Park.

All Things Korean American

Life has become much richer since enrolling in a senior capstone course at Kennesaw State University. My classmates and I have been charged with learning about the local Korean American population. Here I am with my new B-Boy buddies, “Virginia Crew,” at the Relapse Theatre in downtown Atlanta. (I'm the 47-year-old white woman.) In this photo, we are taking a break from shooting footage for classmate Ryan's documentary on intergenerational dynamics of Korean American immigrant families.

Has this ever happened to you? You see or hear a word for the first time, look up its meaning, and commit it to memory even though you are reasonably sure you will never see or read the word again, -- only to find that once you take the vocabulary plunge, the once obscure word has now become commonplace, appearing in everyday conversation, tumbling out of the mouths of ordinary folk, and popping off the pages of mainstream newspapers and magazines? That happens to me all the time.

And now that same principle is at work in my life on another level. Kennesaw State University, the institution of higher learning where I both work and go to school, has deemed the 2009-2010 academic year as the “Year of Korea.” For our senior capstone course, my classmates and I have been charged with learning about issues facing Korean Americans in Atlanta and then developing a platform for sharing our new knowledge. When I first learned of the assignment, I was baffled: “Korean Americans in Atlanta?” I wondered. “Is there a large enough population here to justify a semester of study?”

Obviously, I was past due for a road trip to Duluth. I had not ventured down Buford Highway in nearly two decades. I had no idea that Georgia ranked number two (after Nevada) for having the fastest growing population of Asian Americans in the country. Nor did I know that the Korean American population in Gwinnett County grew at a rate of more than 120 percent over the past decade, and that Korean Americans constituted more than 14 percent of the population for the city of Duluth, according to Census data.

Billboard on Buford Highway

Suffice it to say that I started the academic year with an embarrassing dearth of knowledge about Koreans and Korean Americans. I was familiar with only a few big name companies, (Samsung, Hyundai), a few big name cities (Seoul in South Korea and Pyongyang in North Korea), a few big name events (the Korean War in the early 1950s, the 1986 Olympics, and the Los Angeles Race Riots of 1992), and two culinary treats (kim chi and barbecue tofu), neither of which had touched my tongue. The only Korean American I knew was Heeman Kim, an assistant professor of communication at Kennesaw State University, who taught my Research Methods class.

My how the landscape of my mind, my palette, and my rolodex has changed during the course of ten short weeks! I now have dozens of contacts in the Korean American community. Some have trusted me with their personal stories, tales filled with an inner conflict of straddling two worlds -- the old Korea preserved in their memories and the mainstream America that stares them in the face each morning. A few have confided the difficulties of being in Generation 1.5, wanting to please and honor their immigrant parents and also wanting to embrace the new culture of mainstream America. Some have shared their business dreams and political aspirations. Two have taken time from their busy medical practices to verse me in various issues facing immigrant populations, such as healthcare access and affordability.

My life is immeasurably richer in experiences, too. I now know what an acupuncture needle feels like, what kim chi tastes like, what the Korean language sounds like and what a number of heretofore unknown vegetables look like (see my Super Hmart blog). For the first time in my life, I deeply and truly desire to learn another language. (For one thing, it would help me read what the Korean media in Atlanta are saying about me and my classmates. Our photographs have appeared in at least two local Korean newspapers and one community organization newsletter since we began our mission of sniffing out the community).

My family jokes that I am becoming a “Dictionary of All Things Korean American.” While that’s an exaggeration, it is true that I have become a magnet of sorts for Korean people, news, factoids, and, also, bakeries. Eeks! I am eating at the White Windmill Bakery with alarming regularity! It's near the Super Hmart on Peachtree Industrial Boulevard in Duluth.

I have decided to blog about my experiences because blogging allows the journalist to reflect as well as report. Blogging can be conversational, both in tone and in give-and-take, since blogs allow for comments and dialogue. Plus, I am curious about this new (for me) medium. Please join me as I go forth in pursuit of All Things Korean American.