A race-related rant
There is an issue that any non-Korean has to deal with upon arriving to Korea.
Racism.
“So what?” you say? Sure, you can find racism everywhere, and its certainly something that I’ve grown up with here in Australia, but Korea is, I think, interesting and quite different according to my experiences here.
For instance, growing up in Australia, most of my non-bilingual friends thought the fact that I was bilingual was fantastic, and some even displayed varying amounts of envy at the fact that I could converse in another language.
Walking the streets of Korea, as a person who is quite Korean in appearance, native Koreans felt free to swear at me, yell at me, one went so far as to spit at me (no, it didn’t land on me) for the mere offense of conversing in fluent, unaccented English with my fellow international students. Tell me, how exactly is a 14yo meant to comprehend that her own ‘people’ loathed her for speaking fluently in English, a language that ALL Koreans seemingly want to speak, so much so that it is THE language that is taught to every child across the country from the very moment they hit the education system.
Growing up in Australia was admittedly difficult - when we first immigrated from Korea, Australia had a very small Korean population. Eastwood (in Sydney) was not yet the K-Town it is today, and when I told people where I was from, they often had absolutely no idea (”It’s the little peninsula between China and Japan” was a phrase I repeated MANY times throughout my childhood). Yes, I dealt (and sometimes still deal) with people calling me “Chinky”, slanting their eyes at me, automatically assuming that I’m Chinese or making fun of my culture. This probably has a great deal to do with the fact that I am still sensitive to people making fun of different aspects of my culture - for example, the current fun that some food bloggers are having with poking fun at ‘bohndaeggi’ - tins of silkworm pupae. It takes all my patience to refrain from jumping down their collective necks about it. To be honest, even *I* think they’re disgusting, but you know what? My mother grew up with them, as well as many other regional foods, and from what she tells me, the tinned variety are nothing like how she had them as a kid. So yes, the cultural sensitivity is still there - which is why I’d like to extend a hearty “Fuck You” to those involved.
You know what? If you’re going to sit there and publicly go “eww” at something, do it to something you at least understand.
Anyway, back to my main rant.
Growing up here, I had to deal with racism constantly - I would deal with it from the moment I left my home from outsiders who did not understand my cultural heritage, and I would also have to deal with it when I got home, courtesy of my father’s overwhelming patriotism and arrogance and his “WE are better than THEM” attitude.
I don’t think I need to explain just how tiring and confusing that could get.
This ongoing struggle continued until life threw a curveball which meant that my family would return to Korea when I was 13. At first I fought it - what teenager is happy with the thought of leaving her friends, the life and country she has become accustomed to, and the thought of starting afresh in an unknown place. Despite my being Korean, I had immigrated when I was 4 years old, and the only memories I really had were of eating my grandmother’s roses, having grandpa accidentally smoosh my little snowman and being REALLY upset, and playing in the neighborhood playground with my mother. I had some of my mother’s memories, for example, telling me about the giant dragonflies she used to catch with her siblings over her father’s rice paddies, the sweet smell of the little pink flowers that lined the dusty roads, sitting in the courtyard with her brothers and sisters to shell beans for the night’s meal…sharing these memories with me was her way of not only reminiscing about her homeland when she got homesick, but also of keeping me connected with what Korea meant to her. So once I became accustomed with the idea that yes, I was leaving, I began to feel slightly excited. I was returning ‘home’, to the place of my people. Perhaps the struggle with identity and culture would stop there. Perhaps finally I would not have to deal with that particular issue.
Oh, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The Korea that we arrived to could not have been further from the idealized image in my head
At first, it was just culture shock. The hectic speed at which life operated there, the dustiness, the pollution, the lack of sense of personal space and utterl lack of manners, the lack of grass to run around barefoot in and the lack of stars in the night sky - as well as the abundance of squirrels. And then, as I adjusted to all these, made friends in my new school and began to venture out in this world without my fluently Korean speaking mother, I began to notice something different.
I couldn’t really believe it, to be honest. But I couldn’t deny it the first time that I encountered racism to my face.
I was sitting on the bus with a few friends after school and going on our way back home, when I heard a few schoolgirls behind us suddenly increase the volume of their talking, so I couldn’t miss what they were saying.
“Oh my god, just look at her. Who does she think she is, speaking English like that? She thinks she’s soooo good, speaking English in public. Huh, I can speak English too, I should go up to her and speak some to her - I should go and say ‘fuck you!’”
Mind you - I was sitting with a few girls of different backgrounds. There was I, the daughter of the Italian ambassador, S, the daughter of a Sri Lankan business man, J, an American lass, and A, my best friend and half Korean/half Peruvian. Since I was the only one who outwardly appeared Korean, I could only assume that they were talking about me…yet, they had made the assumption that since I spoke such fluent English, I couldn’t understand a word of Korean. Wrong call.
I turned to look at them and asked them in very plain Korean “What did you say?” (mwo-ra-goh haesoh?), which immediately led them to shut up, but I was so angry that I was shaking the rest of the way home. There were many more incidents - old men grabbing my arm and telling me off for speaking English when I should be speaking Korean, being treated like an idiot because my Korean was so basic (I understand spoken Korean just fine, it just takes me a little time to put together a response if the conversation is anything more than basic chatter), being followed around in stores by salespeople from the moment that I uttered a word of English, or on the other hand, being ignored completely (of course, neither of these happened in Itaewon, home of the knock off and a huge American base).
And that’s just me. I still become almost blindingly angry when I think about the troubles that my siblings had to deal with - I was too old to enter the Korean education system and survive, which is why my parents sent me to an international school (Seoul International School, to be specific). However, since my siblings were so much younger, they thought they would be able to cope and so sent them to the local primary school. The racism I encountered during my childhood here was NOTHING compared to particularly what my brother had to deal with. He was mercilessly teased and bullied and had his possessions continuously hidden or stolen from him - that is, until one day when my brother arrived home in absolute tears. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me that one of the boys in his class had stolen his classroom slippers.
Thankfully, schools at this time published directories of all students names/phone numbers and addresses, so I told my brother to give me his name, looked up his address and stormed straight over. Having the door opened by his grandmother stole a little wind from my sails, but after getting the slippers back, getting down to face level with the kid and telling him that if he ever upset my brother again, that I knew where he lived and I would kill him put an end to one source of trouble.
Anyway, to get to the point - I found life in Korea to be even more harrowing and troublesome than I did life here, and I eventually became so utterly depressed that I begged my parents to send me back. While the emotional arguments didn’t sway them, I managed to bring them round by speaking of the academic merits of sending me back to do my VCE since I was going to attend uni there anyway, and eventually they relented.
My sister and brother followed suit the year after that, and we haven’t looked back since.
I’m not saying that Australia isn’t racist, only a few weeks ago I roundly scolded two strange men who thought they were being clever by saying something in Chinese to me. However, I would rather live in a country that, for the most part, acknowledges that racism is wrong and attempts to fight it than in a country that denies it even exists.
Ahh hell, I don’t even know if this post makes sense.
I guess the conclusion I come to at the end is that while I may be proud of my heritage, of being a part of the Korean race, you could not pay me enough to live there again.
Oh, that and guys - it seriously doesn’t impress me when you try and speak Korean to me. Seriously. Upon learning that a girl you’ve just met is Greek, even though she speaks unaccented English, and is about as Aussie as you can get, would you turn around and happily try and converse in Greek with her? No, because she’d probably look at you like you’re an idiot. You’ll get much the same response from me.
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Comments
Adam This is a great post and provides some real insight, Ellie. It must be disheartening to go "home" to be treated this way… I’d have never expected it. Thanks for sharing.
That said, I’m going to act like the "English Teacher" for a tic and suggest that the last paragraph be removed. Only because I believe that’s a better story to be elaborated and told by itself. To me, it doesn’t quite flow with the rest of the article. But hey, that’s just my opinion hehe
Have a Merry Christmas, Ellie. Happy blogging and Flickring in 2008! 
Jodie Hey
I really enjoyed reading your story. I’m an Australian Australian living in Seoul. My housemate is a Korean Australian who was fully educated in Oz and is now experiencing life in the Korean workforce. I think she finds things a little ( a lot!) different here too! I think that while she is a proud Korean she is often quite frustrated too.
I totally understand your confusion about why foreigners and English are so disliked yet so sought after at the same time. I experienced the same thing in Japan too.
Thanks so much for your blog. I was just looking at Bibmbap and ended up here. I had fun!
Jodie
Ellie Adam - I contemplated removing your comment for awhile but have decided to leave it. To be blunt, this is a personal diary, I don’t edit or plan anything written here, its written straight off the top of my head and meant to convey my thoughts as they come to me. Its a journal to share the haphazard thoughts in my mind as well as giving me a place to record them and contemplate them during the process of writing them down. This is not an article or an essay, its a rant, okay? Its even labeled as a rant, for fuck’s sake.
Jodie - I’m glad you enjoyed reading the blogs 
I’ve discussed this issue with many folks and for some reason it appears that people have some confusion as to how I can say I am proud to be a Korean, yet feel frustrated with and shun the ‘homeland’. To me, they’re two seperate things, one can be proud of the history and heritage they have come from, but that does not necessarily say that they agree with the current way their country is running. I’m not surprised to hear about Japan, though from what I’ve heard, people do tend to think its a little less prevalent than in Korea, due to having more of a global influence and far more foreigners who’ve been part of the scenery for awhile I hope your experiences in Korea are mostly positive ones and that when you leave, it is with fond memories…and perhaps even a hankering for kimchi at your next bbq 
Peter Hi again Ellie. I share your pains.
I had left Korea in ‘85 and didn’t return for the first time till in ‘91, after graduating high school. By then, Korea had changed into something I no longer understood or recognized. 
Being forced to be bilingual helps in some sense… as I don’t stand out too much (other than my not-so-trendy-American looks). 
But perhaps the major difference is that you knew lots of non-Koreans IN KOREA. I however didn’t. And since I was bilingual, I didn’t say a word of Korean unless I was around some… like my cousins I met (American-born). And as I visited back again and again, I have noticed progressively that my thinking mentality has become a definite non-Korean. Koreans do not like individuality. In fact, they frown upon that and want you to be a "team player" and blend in. I’m not too crazy about that.
My wife is a Korean-Korean. How we met is another long story but even between her and myself, though her English is excellent (studied Teaching ESL for Master’s degree here in US), our mentalities are 180 degrees apart! She wants to live in Korea for few years as her mom’s health is deteriorating… and though I don’t quite look forward to the idea, I plan on STICKING OUT LIKE A SORE THUMB if and when we do! 
Imagine a gray haired mid-30’s Korean man with full-sized headphones walking around in just khakis and maybe T-shirt, listening to alternative/punk music and banging my head! I am more than pleased at just imagining their faces!!
Ellie 
myself Just imagine, if one of the asian countres (but definitely not japan) has colonized more places than the european did back to many many years ago, the most common language we use now should be the language from that country.
The world should be different now!
Ellie 
Jeff D Sometimes I think racism is a natural state and we have to actively seek to overcome it. In societies like Korea and Japan, where the collective is more important than the individual, there is little if any reason to make that effort.
Last year I lived in Japan for about six months and the only time I encountered anything approaching racism was while I was waiting in the Narita Airport lounge for a friend. I had been sitting there for a few hours waiting when finally the airport police decided they needed to know what I was doing. I’m sure if I’d been Japanese I could have sat there for a few days without a problem, but being a 190cm American with a very short haircut, I’m sure they thought I was a soldier or something. They satisfied their curiosity and moved on.
Other than getting constantly stared at by young women because of my size (which I quickly got used to and ignored) that was the worst of it. My Korean friend (who like you Ellie lived in Korea until age 7 and then came to the US) got a lot of grief from Korean men, though not any from Korean women. Most of them were quite interested in him (which might explain the Korean men thing)
HaNa Hi Ellie. I really enjoy your blogs (personal and food-related). This entry hits home–a lot of the Korean-Americans I know have experienced similar things when they went to Korea. Thanks for sharing.
Ellie HaNa - My pleasure I really just rant to get things off my chest, but if it gave you something to relate to and think about then I’m glad my ranting served a purpose
Hi Ellie,
A very interesting post. My Korean friends often speak very fondly of their holidays in Korea, maybe they haven’t encountered racism or they’d rather not talk about it.
I’m Vietnamese, I live in a suburb where the population is mainly Caucasian and have noticed that some people are racist. Schools and uni are better because it’s really multicultural there.
I love your blogs. One day I will find the courage to cook… For now, I just read recipes…