“They’re kind of shocked when I tell them I’m not American. Then they’re really disappointed that I’m not French either, because they love French people,” a young woman explained to the room. “When I tell them I’m from Africa — I don’t say Gabon because that just makes things more confusing — they don’t know how to react. It’s like they have no frame of reference. Why am I not poor, for example. How can I be in Korea?” I empathized deeply with the student. She wasn’t what Korean people expected her to be. My friend professor Zeljana Zmire has wonderfully described this as “nouveau riche nationalism” — the idea that for many Koreans, the gross domestic product of the country you are from will often have more influence on how you are treated than your actual skin color. For years, I’ve had people asking, assuming or simply stating without fact that I’m American. “Migukin onda (An American is coming),” the kids would shout at me on the street. Nearby tables in busy pubs would make similar comments. These would be especially pronounced when I was