You simply feel comfortable with someone you look like. My mother was predictably telling her my life history. Surprisingly, her candor pleased me. I wondered why I felt so close to her, whether my identification with her was through my body. Perhaps the 'culture' I felt, the kinship I observed with Koreans, within Korea, was also through my body.
Race often accompanies culture, giving a seemingly superficial air to appreciating ethnicity.
I looked over at my mother, lying a foot away, wiry and thin from American aerobics. Her eyes were closed in ease. Although she was known for being fashionable, her nudity emphasized not only her femininity but her feminism. She had moved from Korea's openly caged role for women, to the U.S., whose cage, if not larger, is at least better painted. Just in case,' she would say.