That time I met Barack Obama.

I was a naive, anxiety-filled 1L at University of Chicago Law School in 2001. I chose law as my career in the same way I would in a multiple choice test: by process of elimination. The choices? (a) Doctor, (b) Business, (c) Lawyer, or (d) Other. At the time, just out of college, there was nothing more terrifying to me than “Other.” So, it had to be an MD, MBA, or JD. I faint at the sight of blood (even now), so that ruled out medicine. I didn’t think I would ever cut it as a business woman (which is why it’s still astonishing to me that I now own my own vegan K-beauty brand), so that was out. Law school it is, I thought!

At that time, Obama was a sitting member of the Illinois state senate. He was also a professor at U of C. Now, 1L year–none of us were allowed to take anything other than the core curriculum (contracts, property, civ pro, torts, etc.). Our schedules were thus largely mapped out for us. It wasn’t until the beginning of 2L year that we had a lot more latitude with our schedules and could select the classes we wanted on our schedule. I lived at home in Wheeling throughout law school and therefore, my commute was about 90 minutes, each way. I tried to keep my time on campus limited to Monday through Thursday, with classes that ended no later than 3 pm (to avoid the worst of traffic).

So when school started buzzing about a class called “RACE,” to be taught by a little-known professor named “Professor Obama,” I quickly scanned the details to see whether I should sign up. Class met in the evenings (at 6 pm, if I remember correctly) and on Fridays. It was thus a “nope” for me.

Now, before you write me off as the lazy idiot that I was, hear me out. Though he’d been a state senator for a few years by that time, virtually no one had heard of Obama. In fact, many of us (me included) could not pronounce his name correctly until it was said out loud. Moreover, for better or worse, I was not as politically engaged at that time. I was your typical “child of immigrants” student in many ways. I focused almost my entire existence on pleasing my parents with excellent report cards, exemplary test scores, and, to their surprise, admission into a top tier law school. Thus, despite the provocatively titled “RACE,” I did not enroll in Professor Obama’s class.

Yes. To this day, I would kick myself if it were physically possible.

Fast forward a few months. I was interning at what would eventually be the only law firm I ever worked at (Foley). (As it were, Obama had been an intern himself at my firm (when it was known as Hopkins & Sutter). But according to one of my colleagues, Obama was not the best intern because he spent the entire summer locked up in his office writing a book called Dreams from My Father instead of working. LOLOL!!!) By this time, Obama was running for US Senate and was thus making the rounds with all the Chicago law firms. The office was abuzz with the news that Obama would be visiting us during the lunch hour.

All the interns were so excited. A few of them were fellow classmates at U of C. The office convened later that day in our largest conference room, where Obama gave a short address over chilled fruit, deli sandwiches, and endless cans of soda. I honestly do not remember anything that he said. But, I distinctly remember thinking, Man. Professor Obama looks so nervous! He’s not a very good speech giver… I know!!! Not what anyone would think of one of America’s all-time great orators, but I’m keeping it real! He stuttered through much of his speech and he was visibly uncomfortable throughout all of it. Keep in mind, this was so early on during his national political career and he was facing a room full of some of the most powerful lawyers in Chicago.

Afterwards, he began the glad-handing phase of the event. When the cluster of interns who were anxiously waiting their turn finally cornered him, he became the Obama we all know and love. His face broke out into that iconic smile. We each got to shake his hand. I apologized for not taking his class because it met at night and one of my classmates piped up, Professor, I’d like a word about my grade… And we all devolved into a rumble of polite, but genuine chuckles.

And then, before we knew it, this small-time, little-known state senator from Illinois, with a name that even he admitted might seem “funny” at first, is giving the opening speech at the 2004 DNC. And I remember thinking, Whoa. Professor Obama has gotten a LOT better at this!! He’s on with David Letterman charming the socks off of all of us and then, as if by magic, a few years later, we are all glued to the television watching Oprah Winfrey lean into some random man, tears trickling down her face, as Professor Obama becomes President Obama.

Fast forward 8 years. It’s 2016 and I’m now a partner at Foley. Trump has won the election. I’ve decided to take on a new client, pro-bono. A man who’s been sitting in jail for some time, having been sentenced to several years in prison for possessing a very small amount of drugs. The laws have changed, though, and it’s highly unlikely that, in 2016, he would be arrested, much less prosecuted for this infraction. My client has never committed anything close to a violent crime. So, I petition President Obama for his pardon and release.

One of Obama’s final acts as President of these United States was pardoning my client.

Now, if you recall, 2016 is when I also started The Korean Vegan. I shared this story about Obama on my Instagram back then, and it caught the attention of a very BIG Instagrammer, who loved it so much, she reached out to me to see if I would be interested in joining her and a small group of other vegan bloggers at a big food conference. I agreed and we became good friends. This friend was working on her own cookbook at that time. She loved my writing and storytelling so much, she referred me to her literary agent. That literary agent got me a book deal. That book deal led to my bestselling book and is likely why you even know who I am and agreed to receive this email from me today.

So, in some ways, Professor Obama is why we’re talking right now.

Over the past several weeks, I’ve been continuing to field demands that I should “get back to cooking” or “stick to recipes.” Comments like these are not rare for me, but, luckily, they are overwhelmingly drowned out by the thousands of comments, emails and DMs I continue to receive daily encouraging me to be exactly who I am on social media and elsewhere.

But, I’ll be honest with you:

These days, I’m struggling to define “who I am.”

I wonder if you ever struggle with this? Because, if you are a human (which I think it’s safe to assume!), then you, too, are a many-faceted being and likely resist being categorized by a handful of descriptors. I am a “food blogger,” for sure, but also a storyteller, a lawyer, a marathoner, a podcaster, a writer, a vegan, a dog-lover, a carbophile, a crossword addict, a wife, a daughter.

A woman.

Chances are, you probably know me and have followed along on my journey as a recipe developer and cookbook author. In fact, I’m not sure I would have made it without you during my book tour last year–it was rough trying to promote and sell a book while the world was crumbling around us. I felt so much immense pressure to live up to my reputation as a “bestselling cookbook author,” while also feeling like promoting anything was horrifically insensitive to the community I made it my mission to serve. I spent many days on that book tour swinging erratically between total elation and grief, and poor Anthony and my close friends had to pick up the pieces while taping me back together with donuts and French fries.

Ten years ago, on January 22, 2016, I published my first social media post as “The Korean Vegan”–a photograph of Korean congee (or “juk”), only made with cauliflower (yes, I deserve to be crucified for this). Donald Trump was elected nine months later, and the morning after his election, I posted one of my favorite photographs of my mother and wrote in the caption:

This is #thekoreanvegan’s mom. Her name is #Sun. This photo was taken right after she immigrated to the US. She’s barely 5′ tall, weighs about 90 lbs. I often refer to her as a bird. But, you know what they say about books and covers. At 67 years old, she can now laugh at how many times she came close to dying, as she slipped through North Korea and literally had to dig the ground for rotten sweet potatoes (her favorite food). With two homes, a couple cars, two kids working in corporate #America, and virtually no discernible accent, it’s easier for her to forget all the times people told her to go back to Korea, who made fun of her English, who assumed she could never succeed above middle management because she was only a woman.

Sometimes, it’s not really about who you are, but who you want to be. I’ve always wanted to be like my mother. A woman she’d be proud of. A woman my grandmothers would be proud of. I’ve always wanted to be strong like them, resilient like them.

I don’t know what the future of The Korean Vegan holds. But I do know, I’ll never stop wanting to be like them.

Wishing you all the best,
-Joanne

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