Whenever election season approaches, several Korean community organizations raise their voices: “Register to vote!” “Go vote!” Newspapers and radio repeat the message—not once or twice, but so often that it can feel awkward or even embarrassing. Our children don’t read Korean newspapers, but if they did—if they read our ethnic papers the way they read the New York Times—how would they react?

Do we Christians really have a reason to vote? Those who do not participate in elections usually have one simple reason: they feel they have no reason to vote.

Yet there is a story of a 90‑year‑old grandfather who, upon receiving his U.S. citizenship, had one final wish—to vote at least once before he died. When he shared this through an interpreter during his interview, the officers expedited his citizenship so he could fulfill that wish. For some, voting is a matter of indifference; for others, it is their final hope on earth.

Today, as election season approaches, I want to reflect on voting.

People act according to what concerns them. When free health screenings are offered for immigrants, people drop everything and go. Many cannot afford insurance, so when a free clinic appears, they stand in line despite embarrassment. They endure the wait because they carry real pain and uncertainty in their bodies. And when the doctor finally says, “There’s nothing serious,” their fears lift. Or, if the doctor advises, “You should see a specialist,” they take action.

In our immigrant community, phrases like “immigrant rights,” “coalition with other ethnic groups,” or “Korean American political influence” still feel unfamiliar. We live comfortably among ourselves. Many organizations claim to represent Koreans, and many volunteers sacrifice their evenings, their businesses, and their own money to serve the community. Their dedication is admirable.

But for their efforts not to be in vain—for these organizations to truly represent our community—we must awaken at least a minimal sense of why voting matters. Korean community leaders may not know much about Korean politics, but they must understand American politics and its leaders. We must recognize and honor those who have courageously advocated for minority rights, even if they are not Korean. And we must be willing to fight for the rights of immigrants who come after us, finding common ground with other marginalized groups.

I am not a politician, nor do I know politics deeply. But as a member of a minority group, I sense that uncertainty, change, and disadvantage are approaching us rapidly. We must remember that there was a time in American history when signs read: “No Chinese or dogs allowed.”

Too often, we live discouraged or indifferent. We must not be swayed by rumors that immigrants drain Social Security or take jobs from Americans. Immigrants receive about $5 billion in welfare nationwide—but we pay $85 billion in taxes. Even when immigrant wages are low, every 100 immigrants create 46 new jobs in this country. Immigrants contribute enormously to the economy and culture, though this reality is rarely acknowledged.

Yet despite immigrants making up only 8% of the population in the 1990s, many proposed immigration laws disproportionately targeted minorities—especially Asians.

A few months ago, I struggled to sponsor my younger sister’s family because of the 1996 immigration law. My income fell short of the required 125% of the poverty line for the combined household size. The new law requires the sponsor to support the immigrant until they become a citizen and prohibits them from using public benefits. Even I felt the burden of being financially responsible for my sister’s family—how could I ask someone else to be a co‑sponsor? By God’s grace it worked out, but the law makes family reunification extremely difficult.

Another example: a Vietnamese woman married to a U.S. serviceman with three children was caught shoplifting. Because she had a prior record, she was deported. Her husband and children—lawful residents—lost their wife and mother.

Consider welfare reform: In Los Angeles, a Korean elderly couple committed suicide out of fear that their benefits would be cut. Nationwide, 26,000 Korean seniors and disabled immigrants lost SSI benefits. Immigrants make up only 5% of welfare recipients, yet they absorbed 45% of the $54 billion in cuts.

California also passed a ballot initiative eliminating bilingual education—now being considered in Washington.

We need a long‑term vision. Census projections show that in 50 years, the white population will drop from 73% to 52.8%. Hispanics will rise from 10.7% to 25%, and Asian‑Pacific Islanders from 3.5% to 8.2%. The Black population will grow slightly from 12% to 14%.

The current majority will one day become a minority. Perhaps that is why many of the special protections once given to minorities are quietly disappearing—yet those who benefited remain silent, too busy surviving today.

We urge our children to become doctors or lawyers. But we also need them in every field—people who understand minority identity and will work for our rights. Koreans are often called “the second Jews.” It is a compliment. Like them, we must invest not only in personal success but in our community. Just as Jewish life centers around libraries and synagogues, our community—rooted in the church—must move beyond self‑interest and toward collective responsibility. The gospel must break out of religious walls and connect to social justice.

“Those who do not understand politics cannot call themselves citizens of this country.” This conviction drives many to watch Congress with sharp eyes. We must learn from them.

Voting is the most basic duty of a citizen. By voting, we take our place as members of the Asian American community. And from that moment, we must hold our elected officials accountable—persistently. Because our Korean community alone is small, we must join with Chinese, Vietnamese, Filipino, and other groups to make our voices heard.

Election season is here again. People shout, “You must vote!” But no one will fine you if you don’t. This is a free country. Yet we cannot guarantee that our children and grandchildren will enjoy this same freedom 50 or 100 years from now.

Is there truly no reason for us to vote this year?

Dear listeners, we believers are the hope and the light of this society. This land is God’s gift to all humanity. God desires His justice and love to fill our hearts. I pray that you will not forget to vote this year—and that you will joyfully exercise your God‑given responsibility as a citizen.

— Yoon Wan‑Hee, 10/25/1998