entering the minority

“Can you see the sunset real good on the West side? You can see it on the East side too.”

― S.E. Hinton, The Outsiders

I know that my hair is yellowish, but yes I really do like “mepta” (spicy) and no I don’t need a “pokeu” (fork).

For the first time in our blue-eyed existence, we are the minority, and it is the hardest, scariest, most wonderful thing that has ever happened to us.

We are slowly getting used to being blatantly stared at, children rubbing the hair on our arms, store clerks looking at us nervously as we approach the counter afraid they will have to speak English, and complete strangers coming up to us as we are waiting for the bus and rubbing our face. (Well, actually, we still aren’t used to that last one – and yes it seriously happened once.)

But it’s a lot more difficult to embrace being the strange sounding, hard to communicate with, expat teacher who can barely read Hangeul, doesn’t ever remember to stand when the principal enters a room and can’t pronounce names correctly.

Harder still to deal with the elderly teacher at your school who refuses to bow to you and responds to your “anyonghaseo” with a scowl so full of hate that you aren’t sure whether or not you’d accidently cursed him out in Korean. 

But then you remember some history you learned. Non-Koreans make up a mere 2% of the population here, and foreigners haven’t been welcomed for very long. King Gojong, leader of the country in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century called foreigners "uneducated louts," motivated by "lechery and sensuality." These ultranationalistic sentiments carried throughout the twentieth century as the country faced turbulent years of transition to modernity involving colonialism, territorial division, and war (all inflicted by other nations). Blood-based ethnic national identity became a crucial source of pride and inspiration for the Korean people during these difficult times. The principle of bloodline or "jus sanguinis" still defines the notion of Korean nationhood and citizenship, which are often inseparable in the mind of Koreans. All this paired with the Eastern collectivist cultural ideals of uniformity and conformity – and you’ve got two white kids feeling a little left out sometimes. (1)

“Well, Koreans are just racist – it is a part of their culture!” you think. But now, who is stereotyping?

Before moving to Korea, we would be the first to tell you that America has some serious racial issues – but it didn’t have anything to do with us because we certainly weren’t racist. But now we think differently – racism is everyone’s problem.

We like how this article in Japantimes sums it up, “If you have never been discriminated against, you are lucky. But at the same time, you are also ill-prepared to understand discrimination on the deepest levels. You will most likely deny that you discriminate against others. Yet we all do, whether we realize it or not. After all, I’ve never met anyone who thinks they themselves are racist… It’s very hard to understand discrimination, and equally easy to deny its existence, if you have never experienced it.” (2)

This small experience of being the minority gives us a tiny glance into the experiences of other’s who have been subject to a lifetime of prejudice – and who continue to suffer immeasurably more than we do in Korea.

More than ever before we yearn to see a world eradicated of all forms of prejudice, segregation and discrimination – whether it be for race, sexual orientation, age, gender, or religion.

May we be humble enough to remember and wise enough to understand that all people are born equal, blessed with different talents, circumstances, intellect and beauty – but equal in their humanity. May we be compassionate enough to recognize the inequality suffered by the minorities among us and have the courage to partner with God in his ultimate vision: a world redeemed by reconciliation through the embrace of justice and equality for all.

1. link

2. link