I still feel guilty.

Even though on an intellectual level I have come to terms with the difference in cultural connotations of being selfish, on an emotional level, I still feel uneasy.

What exactly stands among the states of being selfish, selfless and just being yourself? How do we categorize an action, thought or person as selfish or selfless, and how do we judge the multiple forms of the self?

Growing up for the most part in Korea, I was taught to always consider other people. I mustn’t stand out. I mustn’t talk loudly. I mustn’t do things other people wouldn’t do. I need to self-censor. With my love for doodling and daydreaming as opposed to the timed arithmetic tests and memorization that garner seemingly universal approval, I didn’t find fitting in the easiest task. I didn’t mean to randomly veer off task and digress from intended focuses, but when I found myself occasionally out of line with public expectations, I felt even guiltier because being who I was felt wrong.

In this column, I want to talk about selfishness not as a mannerism or trait, but as a cultural conception of perceiving others and oneself. Take Korean drinking culture for example: Even though individuals may not want to drink, they are expected to not be self-oriented by drinking with the rest of the group.

What I love about this defining value of group culture in Korea, though, is that everyone shares a close bond. When you’re hanging out with a group and one person jokes, another pops in and extends the joke. The dramatic energy and the fun escalate in no time. It really is the more the merrier. When you’re on the subway, on the bus or in any public space, you can expect a reasonable level of quietness because the cultural expectation is to be polite and compliant in public. By no means am I saying self-centered cultures are better than group-centered cultures — they’re just different, and it takes some time getting used to shifting from one to the other.

Since coming to Northwestern, I have experienced the different thresholds of selfishness from individual NU students. I came to question what my overall views of “selfishness” were and what “threshold” I should hold myself to.

I’ve been struggling with being “selfish” and telling others my needs and wants, particularly asking people to change or do something, such as a habitual annoyance like listening to music without headphones. With roommates, friends and others around me, there are always situations I wish I could change. At the same time, I wonder if I’m simply being obnoxious and too needy. Part of me tells myself I can’t always accommodate everyone and that I just need to speak out and demand what I want. Another part of me is wary of making such demands — am I wrong? Too sensitive?

Wednesday evening, I went to a dinner with alumna Dorothy Tucker hosted by the Women’s Center at NU. She is a successful journalist, wife, mother and, most of all, someone who works hard to get what she wants. One thing she said that reverberates with me is that we need to be selfish. It’s OK to be selfish because you need to look out for yourself. It was a cathartic moment. At previous Women’s Center events, I heard other participants and hosts talk about how the culture of shameless self-promotion, “selfishness,” may be different for men and women. Selfishness is still a complicated issue I am working to resolve.

By recognizing that I am awkwardly caught between different cultures of selfishness, I can embrace my own selfishness, at least in my head. Small or big, I try to do what I need, as opposed to what others need me to do. Putting others before myself may make me a nice person, but I slowly realized I wasn’t being a nice person to myself. If I don’t take care of myself, who will?

This new “shamelessly selfish” skin might take some time getting used to, but I now know it’s important for me to stand up for myself.

Heiwon Shin is a Medill sophomore. She can be reached at [email protected]. If you would like to respond publicly to this column, send a letter to the editor to [email protected].