When I began my career as a deputy district attorney, I started with high ideals. My brand new shiny deputys badge glistened, just as my hope for improving our community by seeking all that is righteous and good. How quickly I was to learn about this giant cultural canyon that separates us Korean-Americans from attaining the benefits of our legal justice system in America.
It was a routine day, calendar call in one of the busiest arraignment courtrooms. This courtroom was packed with defendants about to be charged for various crimes and offenses. The back of the courtroom was jammed with families of the defendants and even families of victims to catch a glimpse of justice being doled out by the system. Defense attorneys line the hallways bargaining and dealing for better terms. It looked like a swap meet or flea market with all the commotion and buzz in the air, while the judge one by one called defendants up to the podium to read the charges and take the pleas. Nervously clutching the file my supervisor had assigned to me to my chest I pushed forward and stood off to the side waiting to hear my case be called. Abruptly, the judge stopped and looked directly at me. Oh, I see that our Cantonese interpreter is here now. Please bring Mr. Cheng to the podium for his arraignment. I had no idea who he was referring to, so I looked around me to see who the Chinese language interpreter might be. You, thereyesyouPlease step up to the microphone. Me? I was stunned and my hand shot up to cover my mouth that had dropped open in surprise as everyone in the courtroom turned to look where I was standing. I was so shocked I could not speak. Umyour Honor, interrupted another deputy district attorney at the prosecutor table, She is one of our new deputy district attorneys. The judge, an older Caucasian gentlemen with snowy white hair, turned from sheet white, to pink and then to a blazing red. He apologized quite profusely on the bench on the record. He even had me come up to the bench later that morning off the record, he shook my hand and sincerely apologized for his mistake.
This judge and I eventually developed a strong professional respect for each other. I was not offended. But I realized it was a sign. A sign that Asian Americans had yet to make their mark on the legal justice system. I could not condemn this judge. How could I? To date, there had never been a female Korean American prosecutor in Ventura County, so his mistake was sincerely honest. If this judge thought I was an interpreter, then what must the rest of the community think of Asian Americans in the courtroom, in the universities, in politics, in business and in the greater community?
This is an election year. To most people in Los Angeles, this is a crucial yeara year where they rally around their favored candidates and push for legislation to advance their status in life. Its a race and fight for a share of the wealth in freedom, finance, power and politics. I was deeply troubled by what I had heard on the radio news one morning after the primary elections. Political analysts were dissecting the voting population into ethnic categories to determine which candidates curried favor from which ethnic groups. A percentage of the vote came from the African-Americans and from the Latino-American vote. What? Where is the Asian vote? I turned up the radio dial impatiently to hear more of this break down of the ethnic vote. Where is the Asian-American vote? Finally at the end of the radio segment, the announcer stated emphatically that the Asian-American vote was so small that it was negligible. How can this be? The Korea-American population has swelled in numbers, and yet how could we be negligible? I was so shocked and frustrated that I could not speak.
We have suffered unconscionably in the past for our silence. Many of our Korean families were victims in the Los Angeles riot last decade. To date, many of them have yet to receive the proper restitution and reparations to help rebuild the dream they saw go up in flames. Some suffering continues in Los Angeles, as our community does not receive adequate police protection or sensitivity to our cultural differences. Our cries for help go unheeded as long as we do not ensure that Korean-Americans are in positions of authority and power, both legally and politically.
At some point, we are going to have to stop being the mute community. We can start by voting and making our voice heard politically. The candidates will pay attention to our needs if they know that we do vote and that we have significant voting presence. We can also show up for jury duty and make our presence known in the jury pool. We need to support Asian-Americans in the legal community and push for more Korean judges, prosecutors and public defenders. Even if we only speak broken English we can financially contribute towards candidates who will be sensitive to the Korean-American pulse. How can we expect a non-Korean to know our culture and all its labyrinth of unspoken customs and beliefs? If we are misunderstood, I believe we are then partly to blame for all the years of unbroken silence. We are not the mute community, we are a culturally rich and powerful communitya sleeping giant. Our time has come to wake and be heard!


Helan Bang has been a Los Angeles Deputy District Attorney since 1996. Ms. Bang was born in Los Angeles to immigrant parents and grew up in the sleepy suburbs of Simi Valley. She graduated from U.C. Berkeley with a degree in Political Science-Economy. In 1995 Ms. Bang graduated from Lewis and Clark Law School in Portland, Oregon. As a law student, she clerked for the United States Attorneys Office and worked in a legal clinic for lower income families. Upon graduation from law school, Ms. Bang moved back to her native Los Angeles and began her career as a prosecutor for Ventura County District Attorneys Office. On her free time, she swims competitively and coaches swimming to children. Ms. Bang is also involved with her church at Young Nak English Ministry.