Minari, Making History

Youn won a much-deserved historic Oscar for best supporting actress for her spirited portrayal (and gave a memorable acceptance speech).

The title of “Minari” comes from the Korean name for a tart, peppery herb common in South Korea but not so familiar to Americans. It’s a bit like watercress. David’s grandmother pulls a bag of minari seeds from her suitcase (along with a number of other mysterious items that have David’s nose crinkling) and sprinkles them on a riverbed near their new Arkansas home.

I’m reminded of the children’s book “Watercress,” written by Andrea Wang and illustrated by Jason Chin, based on Wang’s memory of being mortified by her immigrant parents who pull over to gather watercress by the side of the road in Ohio.

In “Minari,” this strange vegetable carried across oceans from Asia to Arkansas ends up feeding them. The minari also serves a bridge, a symbol of growth, a connection between two worlds: the old world, the new world.

And in many ways, that is how we children of immigrants live in America: between two worlds, navigating two cultures, feeling that we never quite fit into either. We’re expected to know and follow the social mores and rules of mainstream white America, at school and at work, though we weren’t taught them at home and are sometimes punished for behavior that we learned from our parents. And what we learn about Korean mores at home is a mishmash of kitchen talk and tidbits of cultural history that our busy and harried parents try to squeeze in while also trying to teach us the traditions of this new country, like Halloween and Thanksgiving.

“Minari” doesn't touch on the most painful aspects of being Asian in America in the 1980s. But that's OK. Every film doesn't have to be everything, and what this film does in making one family's story an American story is an achievement. It doesn't have to stand for every single Asian American or immigrant story. And it creates space for us to tell so many more diverse American stories.

And I suspect many more Americans from immigrant families, no matter what country or culture, will spot and sense the small, intimate details that illustrate the generational and cultural gaps that we are constantly navigating at home, from the stinky teas that cause consternation to the struggle to communicate in a common language. The joy of discovery — Mountain Dew! — and the pain of shame as we seek to fit in and assimilate.

But what I love best about “Minari” is that there’s no need to explain these elements. There’s no need to provide any lessons about culture or race. By refusing to cater to the mainstream, Chung quietly and gracefully asks America to acknowledge that this story is as much a part of American storytelling as any other. Not foreign, not different, but American.

It is an important message to share at a time when we are struggling to feel safe and accepted in the country we were born and raised in.

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Jean H. Lee is director of the Hyundai Motor-Korea Foundation Center for Korean History and Public Policy and a former AP bureau chief in Seoul and Pyongyang. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram @newsjean.

The views expressed are the author's alone, and do not represent the views of the U.S. Government or the Wilson Center. Copyright 2020, Asia Program. All rights reserved.