Equal Writes

Photo courtesy of Justin Pierce Baldwin Gerald

by Justin Pierce Baldwin Gerald

I’ve been in Daegu, South Korea for the past twenty-two months, teaching English to tenth and eleventh graders and generally seeing as much of the country – and the region – as I can. During my time here, I’ve noticed quite a few interesting things about gender, and so today I will share some of them with you.

I’m well aware that I’m hardly an insider. I may speak a tiny bit of Korean, but I’m still a black, American male, and I can’t pretend I actually understand everything about the culture here. Hopefully I can offer a sliver of insight into a place you may or may not be familiar with.

So, to fall back on a cliché, they say the eyes are the window into a person’s soul, and I’m going to use the eyes as a window into my discussion here. Girls as young as ten or eleven are urged – and sometimes forced – to get surgery on their eyelids to create the crease that many Koreans lack. The procedure is fairly cheap and safe, and increasingly ubiquitous, although it’s pretty obvious when it’s been done poorly, especially on a preteen.

That said, I’m not the target audience. Many employers here will only hire women they consider very attractive, and having said surgery can increase a young woman’s chances of being hired. It’s sad, of course, but it’s not my place to cross my arms and shake my head at the women who make this choice. The bulk of the blame lies with the employers who perpetuate this unpleasant practice.

According to my female American friends, birth control is less expensive here than back at home, and similarly effective. However it is usually considered the man’s responsibility to provide contraception, and, since American (read: white) women are stereotyped as harlots in the popular culture on the peninsula, they don’t bat an eye when my friends drop into the pharmacy to pick up a new dose, whereas it would be frowned upon for one of my Korean coworkers to do the same.

Now, I’m going to let you in a little secret: there are no gay people in South Korea. Really. None. Just like Iran, they don’t have that problem.

I kid you, because South Koreans are humans, and there’s no reason to believe they’re any higher or lower than the worldwide average for non-heterosexuality. There’s a large area of Seoul referred to, affectionately, as “Homo Hill,” and even my relatively bland city, Daegu, has a smattering of gay clubs, even if my LGBT friends tell me they’re pretty terrible.

But if you talk to some South Koreans, they will tell you straight up that there just aren’t any gay people in this country. As ridiculous as this denial is, there is also a much lower incidence of anti-gay violence here – I guess you can’t assault something that doesn’t exist? – and I’ve wondered these past two years whether it’s more difficult for a person to have to be closeted, but never fear violence, or to come out and possibly fear for your life, depending on the community in which you reside.

The ironic thing about all this is that South Korea defines gender in such a way that what some American males might dismiss as “gay” is perfectly “straight” here. Children and young adults, male or female, hold their friends’ hands,  brush their hair, caress each other, generally show affection in an open and tender way. This sort of evaporates after marriage, from what I’ve seen, but even though it surprised me for the first few weeks or so, I think it’s kind of nice that friends are so affectionate.

Dating is an entire quagmire I have very little experience with here, but there is a very clear idea of “oneness” in the relationships I’ve observed. Boyfriends and girlfriends wear “couple rings,” and, if they’re feeling adventurous, will parade down the street in “couple wear,” which could be as simple as wearing the same color baseball cap – though not always the same team – to entire matching outfits, as you can see here.

The members of the younger generation, who grew up in an exceedingly technologically advanced society – you should see my cell phone – don’t seem to hold the same views as their parents regarding sex and gender and the like. But since young South Koreans invariably live at home until marriage (there are a variety of reasons for this), they don’t have much choice but to submit to their parents’ wishes. I have female coworkers as old as thirty who still have curfews to obey, and, from my vantage point, it seems that, especially for women, you are very much your parents’ children right up until you have some of your own.  (And by “some,” I mean “one,” considering their miniscule birthrate.)

Domestic violence is, unfortunately, as much of a problem here as it is at home, if not more so. The statistics vary because of the low percentage of victims who actually come forward, but in a place where my students are routinely beaten by the other teachers – it’s “illegal,” but not really – I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

I could post a variety of horrid news stories (like this one…) that make this place look barbaric, but one has to give South Korea a lot of credit. Consider that, in the time since most of our parents were born (my mother was 1956), South Korea has transformed from one of the poorest countries on Earth to one of the most developed, even with that rickety and ruthless regime hanging out up north.

There are clearly a lot of things that need to change with regard to gender and sexuality here. Women are second-class citizens in some ways, and, as is the case in most places, are not often  allowed to ascend to positions of power. (You may see a female principal at an elementary school, but rarely at a middle or high school.) I have faith that they can continue to make progress, though, and even though gay people “don’t exist,” I was quite glad to see a small, but vocal, pride parade traipsing through the streets right here in Daegu this past summer.

Like most countries, South Korea can, and must, improve on these issues. But if the last fifty years is any indication, they should be up to the task. Here’s hoping.

(If you want to read about this in much greater depth, I urge you to check out The Grand Narrative, which I’ve been reading throughout my time in South Korea.)

Thanks to Amelia and the rest of EW for letting me share my observations.

Justin graduated from Princeton in 2007 with a degree in English and is currently living and working in South Korea. During his time on campus, he wrote and edited for the Nassau Weekly, and was a member of Terrace F. Club. He doesn’t really enjoy long walks on the beach, but is a big fan of advocacy, activism and equality, and he loves the work being done by the folks here at Equal Writes.