Name Like a Typo

Alejandra Kim's life is a constant negotiation of identity, starting with her name—a Korean face with a Spanish first name. At her progressive, mostly white prep school, Anne Austere (nicknamed Quaker Oats), teachers and students alike stumble over her name, never quite knowing what to make of her. She's the child of Korean immigrants who landed in Argentina before coming to New York, and her sense of belonging is always in flux. Alejandra's world is shaped by the expectations and microaggressions of others, and she's learned to laugh along, even when it stings. Her story begins with the tension of being seen as a "typo," a living contradiction, and the exhaustion of always having to explain her "origin story" to those around her.

Quaker Oats and Outsiders

At Quaker Oats, Alejandra is a scholarship kid among the privileged, always aware of the gap between her life and her classmates'. The school prides itself on diversity and progressiveness, but Alejandra feels like an outsider, "thing-adjacent" rather than having a "thing" of her own. The arrival of the famous novelist Jonathan Brooks James (JBJ) as a creative writing teacher brings both excitement and anxiety. JBJ's offhand, racially charged comment about Alejandra's name and her presumed college prospects is met with laughter, but it leaves her burning with humiliation. The school's well-meaning but clueless culture, and the subtle ways it otherizes her, set the stage for the conflicts to come.

Lunches and Longings

Alejandra's friendship with Laurel, her earnest, activist best friend, is both a comfort and a source of tension. Their lunches—Laurel's vegan, sustainable fare and Alejandra's Wonder bread sandwiches—become symbols of their different worlds. They dream together of Whyder College, an elite liberal arts school, but financial realities and family expectations loom large. Alejandra's mother wants her to stay close to home, while Alejandra yearns for escape. The lunch table is a microcosm of their lives: aspirations, insecurities, and the unspoken knowledge that not everyone can afford to dream the same way.

Home in Jackson Heights

After school, Alejandra returns to Jackson Heights, a vibrant, immigrant neighborhood that feels both like home and a trap. The streets are filled with the smells, languages, and rhythms of many cultures, but Alejandra is always "China" to her neighbors, never quite fitting in as Latinx or Korean. The apartment she shares with her mother is heavy with the absence of her father, who died on the subway tracks months earlier. The weight of grief, guilt, and unspoken family history presses in, and Alejandra's longing for something more is sharpened by the realities of her home life.

Apartment of Absence

The apartment is a space of memories and loss. Alejandra's mother works long hours as a home aide, and their relationship is strained by grief and unspoken resentments. Alejandra's father, once a source of warmth and encouragement, is now a ghost in the apartment, his absence felt in every corner. The struggle over college applications—Alejandra's desire to apply to Whyder versus her mother's insistence on local schools—becomes a battleground for their hopes and fears. The apartment, with its hand-me-down furniture and faded wedding photos, is both a sanctuary and a reminder of everything that's missing.

Montoya Park Confessions

When home becomes too much, Alejandra escapes to Montoya Park, a small, neglected patch of green where she used to play soccer with her father and her childhood friend Billy. The park is a place for confessions—of anger, guilt, and longing. Alejandra grapples with her father's death, her own sense of responsibility, and the impossibility of finding answers. The park is also a reminder of friendships lost and the ways in which the past continues to haunt the present. Here, Alejandra's grief is raw, and her need for connection is palpable.

Microaggressions and Petitions

JBJ's microaggressive comment becomes a catalyst when Laurel, learning of it secondhand, launches a petition to have him removed. Alejandra is ambivalent—she's used to letting such things slide, wary of making trouble as a scholarship kid. Laurel's righteous anger and the support of other students make Alejandra the reluctant face of a cause she never asked for. The petition gains traction, and the school's culture of performative allyship is exposed. Alejandra is caught between gratitude for her friend's support and discomfort at being made a symbol.

Happy Day Realities

At her aunt's dry cleaners, Happy Day, Alejandra finds a different kind of education. Her cousin Michael, who is gay and works in finance, counsels her on the risks of speaking out—reminding her that whistleblowers rarely win, especially those without privilege. The realities of immigrant labor, racism, and survival are laid bare in the daily grind of the shop. Encounters with customers, family, and old friends like Billy's mother reveal the complexities of community, loyalty, and the ways in which people carry their pain and pride.

"Real" Art, Real Problems

JBJ's lectures on "real art" versus "identity politics" further alienate Alejandra, who feels targeted and dismissed. The petition against him gains momentum, but Alejandra is uneasy about being at the center of controversy. Attempts to transfer out of the class are thwarted, and the school's bureaucracy offers little support. Laurel's activism is both inspiring and overwhelming, and Alejandra is left to navigate the fallout of being made an example. The tension between authenticity and performance, both in art and in life, becomes a central struggle.

Reunion and Rifts

Billy returns from the Dominican Republic, changed by his time away. Their reunion is awkward, shadowed by past confessions and the shifting dynamics of their friendship. Alejandra's worlds—school and home, privilege and struggle—collide as she tries to support Billy while dealing with her own challenges. The pressures of college applications, family expectations, and the need to belong strain her relationships. The lines between allyship, exploitation, and genuine connection blur, and Alejandra is forced to confront uncomfortable truths about herself and those she loves.

Study Dates and Resignations

The petition succeeds: JBJ resigns rather than undergo sensitivity training. Laurel is triumphant, but Alejandra is left with mixed feelings—relief, guilt, and a sense of being used. Their friendship is tested as they work on their Whyder essays together, each wrestling with the question of "home." The process of writing becomes a way for Alejandra to process her grief, her identity, and her hopes for the future. The cost of victory—public attention, strained friendships, and the burden of representation—becomes clear.

Writing the Whyder Essay

Alejandra's Whyder essay becomes a confessional, blending her family's migration story with her experiences of exclusion and activism. Draft after draft, she struggles to balance honesty with what she thinks the admissions committee wants to hear. Feedback from friends and family is both helpful and disorienting, highlighting the gap between her authentic self and the polished persona she feels pressured to present. The act of writing is both cathartic and fraught, a microcosm of her larger struggle to belong without betraying herself.

Diversity on Display

The school's Diversity Assembly, orchestrated by Laurel, puts Alejandra on stage as a symbol of resilience and inclusion. She is awarded for her "courage," but the experience is humiliating and alienating. The performance of allyship by the school community rings hollow, and Alejandra feels more like an imposter than ever. The gap between public recognition and private pain widens, and the cost of being made a symbol becomes painfully clear. The assembly is a turning point, forcing Alejandra to reckon with the limits of institutional change and the complexities of friendship.

Subway Music and Memories

The aftermath of the assembly sends Alejandra spiraling into memories of her father, her family's sacrifices, and the ways in which trauma lingers. Subway rides become journeys through grief, as she revisits the places and moments that shaped her. The story of how she came to Quaker Oats, the pressures on her parents, and the unraveling of her father's mental health are woven together in a tapestry of longing and regret. The search for home—literal and metaphorical—becomes ever more urgent.

Coffee, Conflict, and Code-Switching

Tensions with Laurel and Billy come to a head, as misunderstandings, jealousy, and unspoken resentments surface. Alejandra navigates the code-switching required to move between her different worlds, never quite at ease in any of them. The pressures of college admissions, financial insecurity, and family secrets mount. Moments of connection—over coffee, at the park, in the classroom—are fleeting, often undercut by the realities of race, class, and expectation. The struggle to be "real" in a world of performances intensifies.

Aftermaths and Apologies

The fallout from the assembly, the petition, and personal conflicts leaves Alejandra isolated. She and Laurel have a painful confrontation, each airing grievances and regrets. The limits of allyship, the dangers of performative activism, and the wounds of betrayal are laid bare. Apologies are offered, but trust is slow to return. Alejandra begins to see the necessity of speaking her truth, even when it's uncomfortable, and the importance of forgiving herself as well as others.

Cultural Studies and Stereotypes

A new teacher, Dr. Chatterjee, brings a fresh approach to the classroom, challenging students to examine their own identities, expectations, and the pressures of stereotype threat. Alejandra and her classmates are pushed to confront the ways in which they perform for others and for themselves. The process is uncomfortable but illuminating, revealing the layers of code-switching, self-doubt, and internalized expectations that shape their lives. The class becomes a space for growth, vulnerability, and the beginnings of self-acceptance.

Imposter Syndrome Unmasked

As graduation approaches, Alejandra faces the realities of college admissions, financial aid, and the choices that will shape her future. The imposter syndrome that has haunted her begins to lose its grip as she finds her voice, reconciles with her mother, and makes peace with her past. Friendships evolve, some fading, others deepening. Alejandra chooses a path that honors her family's sacrifices and her own desires, finding a sense of home not in a place, but in the acceptance of her own complexity. The story ends with hope, hard-won wisdom, and the music of the subway—a reminder that belonging is not about fitting in, but about embracing who you are.

Characters

Alejandra Kim

Alejandra is the daughter of Korean immigrants who grew up in Argentina before settling in New York. Her life is a constant negotiation of identity—Korean, Latinx, American, and never quite enough of any. At Quaker Oats Prep, she is a scholarship student, always aware of her outsider status among the privileged. Alejandra is introspective, sharp-witted, and often self-deprecating, using humor to mask her discomfort. Her relationships—with her mother, her late father, her best friend Laurel, and childhood friend Billy—are fraught with love, resentment, and longing. Over the course of the novel, Alejandra moves from self-doubt and imposter syndrome to a hard-won acceptance of her own complexity, learning to speak her truth and claim her place in the world.

Laurel Greenblatt-Watkins

Laurel is Alejandra's closest friend at Quaker Oats, a white, socially conscious Brooklynite with a passion for activism and debate. She is intense, idealistic, and sometimes oblivious to her own privilege. Laurel's desire to be a good ally often leads her to overstep, making decisions for Alejandra in the name of justice. Her activism is both a source of support and tension, as she sometimes centers herself in the struggles of others. Laurel's own family dynamics—divorced parents, a high-achieving sister, and a complicated relationship with her father—mirror her need to prove herself. Her friendship with Alejandra is tested by betrayal, guilt, and the limits of good intentions, ultimately evolving into a more honest, if imperfect, connection.

Billy Díaz

Billy is Alejandra's childhood friend from Jackson Heights, a Dominican American who shares her sense of being caught between worlds. He is grounded, funny, and unpretentious, offering Alejandra a refuge from the pressures of Quaker Oats. Billy's own struggles—with school, family, and the expectations placed on him as a young man of color—parallel Alejandra's, though he often feels left behind by her ambitions. Their friendship is complicated by unspoken feelings, jealousy, and the pain of growing apart. Billy's honesty and willingness to call Alejandra out force her to confront uncomfortable truths about herself and her relationships.

Veronica Kim (Ma)

Alejandra's mother is a Korean Argentine immigrant who works as a home aide, carrying the weight of family responsibility and loss. She is pragmatic, often emotionally distant, and resistant to change. Her relationship with Alejandra is marked by love, frustration, and mutual misunderstanding, especially after the death of Alejandra's father. Ma's insistence on staying close to home and her reluctance to discuss the past are both protective and limiting. Over time, she begins to open up, sharing her own struggles with loneliness, regret, and the challenges of immigration. Her journey toward healing parallels Alejandra's, and their eventual reconciliation is a testament to the power of vulnerability and forgiveness.

Jonathan Brooks James (JBJ)

JBJ is a celebrated white novelist brought in to teach creative writing at Quaker Oats. His casual racism and dismissive attitude toward "identity politics" make him both a figure of admiration and a source of pain for Alejandra. JBJ's presence exposes the limits of the school's progressiveness and the dangers of unchecked privilege. His eventual resignation, prompted by student activism, is both a victory and a source of ambivalence for Alejandra, who is left to deal with the fallout of being made a symbol.

Michael Oppa

Michael is Alejandra's older cousin, a Korean American who works in finance and helps out at the family dry cleaners. He is out as gay but cautious about revealing his identity at work, aware of the risks of being different in corporate America. Michael offers Alejandra practical advice about survival, warning her of the dangers of speaking out without power. His own experiences with discrimination, family rejection, and the pressures of assimilation provide a counterpoint to Alejandra's struggles. Michael's support is steady, if sometimes cynical, and his journey toward self-acceptance mirrors Alejandra's.

Tía Yoona

Tía Yoona is Alejandra's paternal aunt, a Korean immigrant who runs Happy Day Dry Cleaners. She is both nurturing and tough, embodying the contradictions of survival in a new country. Tía Yoona's relationship with Alejandra's mother is fraught, shaped by old resentments and the pain of loss. Her stories about the family's past, especially the improvised empanadas that blend Korean and Argentine traditions, become a metaphor for Alejandra's own hybrid identity. Tía Yoona's presence is a reminder of the sacrifices and resilience that underpin the family's journey.

Claire Devereaux

Claire is a classmate at Quaker Oats, editor of the literary journal, and initially a symbol of privilege and exclusion. Over time, Alejandra discovers that Claire's own identity is more complex—she is white-passing Latinx, grappling with loss and invisibility. Their relationship evolves from rivalry to mutual understanding, highlighting the ways in which assumptions and stereotypes can obscure real connection. Claire's journey is a mirror for Alejandra's, and their eventual friendship is a testament to the possibility of empathy across difference.

Dr. Payal Chatterjee (Dr. C)

Dr. C is a new faculty member who replaces JBJ, bringing a focus on cultural studies and stereotype threat. She is sharp, compassionate, and unafraid to challenge her students' assumptions. Dr. C's own experiences as a first-generation immigrant inform her teaching, and she becomes a mentor to Alejandra, encouraging her to examine her identity, confront her pain, and find her voice. Dr. C's research on racial melancholia and her commitment to amplifying marginalized stories provide a framework for Alejandra's growth.

Laurel's Family (Mr. Greenblatt, Leah)

Laurel's father is a wealthy, demanding figure who embodies the privileges and blind spots of white, upper-class America. Her sister Leah is the golden child, effortlessly successful and a constant point of comparison. Their presence in Laurel's life shapes her insecurities, ambitions, and need to prove herself. The dynamics of Laurel's family echo the broader themes of expectation, competition, and the search for validation.

Plot Devices

Hybrid Identity and Code-Switching

The novel's central device is Alejandra's hybrid identity—Korean, Argentine, American—and the constant code-switching required to survive in each context. This device is used to explore the complexities of race, class, and belonging, highlighting the ways in which identity is both imposed and performed. The tension between authenticity and adaptation is a recurring motif, shaping Alejandra's relationships, choices, and sense of self.

Microaggressions and Performative Allyship

The story uses microaggressions—subtle, often unintentional acts of exclusion or prejudice—as a way to reveal the limits of institutional progressiveness and the dangers of performative allyship. The petition against JBJ, the Diversity Assembly, and the school's culture of wokeness are all plot devices that expose the gap between intention and impact. These moments force Alejandra and her peers to confront the realities of privilege, power, and complicity.

Food as Metaphor

Food is a recurring symbol of identity, belonging, and difference. The family's Korean-Argentine empanadas, Alejandra's Wonder bread sandwiches, and the lunches of her classmates all serve as metaphors for the ways in which culture is both inherited and improvised. The act of sharing, rejecting, or being ashamed of food becomes a stand-in for the larger struggles of assimilation and self-acceptance.

Letters, Essays, and Confessions

The process of writing—college essays, confessional letters, and class assignments—is both a narrative device and a means of character development. Alejandra's drafts for Whyder, her letter to Billy, and her work in Dr. C's lab all serve as opportunities for reflection, vulnerability, and growth. The tension between writing for oneself and writing for an audience mirrors the broader theme of authenticity versus performance.

Stereotype Threat and Racial Melancholia

The introduction of Dr. C and her research on stereotype threat and racial melancholia provides a theoretical lens for understanding the characters' struggles. These concepts are woven into the narrative through classroom discussions, personal reflections, and research projects, offering both explanation and validation for the pain of not belonging. The use of psychological theory as a plot device deepens the novel's exploration of identity and trauma.

Cyclical Structure and Foreshadowing

The novel's structure is cyclical, with key locations (Montoya Park, the subway, the apartment) and events (holidays, assemblies, family gatherings) recurring throughout. These repetitions serve as both foreshadowing and reflection, highlighting the ways in which the past shapes the present and the difficulty of breaking free from old patterns. The story's ending, with Alejandra choosing a different path than she once imagined, is both a resolution and a continuation of her journey.

Analysis

Patricia Park's Imposter Syndrome and Other Confessions of Alejandra Kim is a sharp, funny, and deeply moving exploration of what it means to be caught between worlds. Through Alejandra's eyes, the novel interrogates the pressures of code-switching, the pain of microaggressions, and the limits of institutional progressiveness. It exposes the dangers of performative allyship and the ways in which even well-intentioned activism can become self-serving. At its heart, the book is about the search for home—not as a place, but as a sense of self that can withstand the demands of family, friendship, and society. The lessons are clear: true belonging requires honesty, vulnerability, and the courage to claim one's own story, even when it doesn't fit the expected script. The novel's nuanced portrayal of grief, guilt, and growth offers a powerful reminder that healing is possible, but only when we are willing to face our own contradictions and embrace the messy, hybrid realities of our lives.

Last updated: September 11, 2025