I am the Korean formerly known as Bang Myung Sun. I was born in Masan, South Korea and adopted by an American family, the McGillvray's, shortly thereafter. Fred and Christine McGillvray of Hanover, Pennsylvania had two biological sons - Eric and Kevin. The hope of having a daughter to call their own was shadowed by a fear of epilepsy, thus leading them to pick an infant from a stack of photos.

Upon arrival in the States, I was re-named Melany Lauren McGillvray... a Scotch-Korean? Starburst® recently informed me that that is bit of a contradiction, but I didn't need a commercial to point out the obvious when I was growing up. The vast majority of my life has been spent in small, rural towns where the diversity could be counted on two hands or less.

I don't remember at what age I was told that I was an adopted child, but I can shamefully admit to being in denial of it until my early twenties. I absolutely refused to be Korean. I hated being asked questions about my ethnicity - always feeling isolated and judged. It wasn't until I attended a spiritual retreat during my junior year of college that I was finally able to break down the wall I had spent so long behind. It was there that I learned to embrace my adoption and my inner Korean.

Post-retreat, my cultural curiosity grew exponentially. I was given a copy of Rosetta Stone® Korean Levels 1-3 as a college graduation gift from my grandmother, but it wasn't quite enough to satisfy this undulating desire. One random (yet fortunate) night after work I had an epiphany; having acquired a new taste for martial arts and Americanized-Asian films, I thought to myself, Korean martial arts? I did a quick internet search and got over 13,000,000 results in 0.14 seconds. Taekwondo. I searched again, but this time for "taekwondo" schools near my current address. I literally froze in excitement when I found one that was within walking distance of my apartment. There was no excuse not to do it now.

Even at the age of twenty-four, I was shy and nervous as I walked towards the building. I could hear the sounds of people screaming mixed with crashing movements coming from an open window above me. I hesitantly made my way to the elevator and proceeded to the second floor unit where the school was located. As the elevator doors parted, the screaming became more intense and the cracks of kicks on targets became painfully sharper. I anxiously sat down in the Grandmaster's office as if I were going to a professional interview. He asked me why I was interested in learning taekwondo. After spewing out a typical, "to be active and stay fit; to vent frustrations from work; etc" kind of answer, I closed my speech with my cultural dilemma. Being Korean himself, he sympathized and bartered an additional deal with me; teach the Master instructor how to speak better English and in return, he will teach me how to speak Korean. In my eyes, this was the perfect two-for-one deal that I could not refuse.

The Grandmaster escorted me to the mats for a trial lesson where the other students had already begun to line up. We bowed to the hanging flags at the front of the room and then again to the Master instructor. After explaining a certain stretching technique (in English), he began to speak gibberish - I could only assume it was Korean. The students mimicked him: ha-na, dul, set, net, da-seot, ya-seot, il-geop, yeo-dul. I tried to catch on, but had no clue as to what I was saying; Rosetta Stone Lesson 1 didn't teach me this.

When we finished stretching, the Master moved on to basic kicking techniques. Having danced since I was three years old, some movements came more naturally than others. By the end of the class I was dripping with sweat and pumping with adrenaline. I was in love. I eagerly ran to the Grandmaster's office once again, shook his hand, and signed on the dotted line. He removed a crisp, white uniform from his closet and handed it to me along with a white belt, the color of purity and innocence. The seed had been planted and I was ready to learn more.

The sun raised and shined as I began to understand the basics of taekwondo. I learned to appreciate it as a powerful art form and was humble to the fact that I could not yet control these new skills. I could feel my strength grow in every class; feet, hands, and mind were beginning to work in harmony to execute new and even more complicated combinations. Practicing proper stances and body positioning became deeply rooted in my muscle memory so movements became less awkward and more natural. My body and soul were soaring to new and unprecedented heights.

At the same time, I was learning and using more Korean vocabulary and incorporating respectful mannerisms, such as bowing, subconsciously in my normal day-to-day routine. I tried Korean food for the second time in my life (the first was not so successful) and found myself experimenting with different types of kimchi until I found the one that I could actually tolerate. These days I have no reservations about eating bulgogi, kimbap, bibbimbap, japchae, and ramyun, to name a few - they probably consume 70% of my weekly diet.

Now twenty months later, and married to a Korean, I am a deputy black belt student. My progression through the color belts has not only symbolized a dedication to learning taekwondo, but it has become a sort of simile to a growing awareness and appreciation of my Korean culture. Taekwondo has been a subliminal gateway to learn respect for my country, for my seniors, and for myself. I anticipate visiting Korea in 2013 to celebrate the receipt of my first degree black belt and to visit the grand opening of the Taekwondo Park. For the first time in twenty seven years, I will be coming home.

I am the American-Korean known as Melany Lauren An. My goal is to be a black belt in mind, body, and Seoul.