Korean men lead a contradictory existence. They are both adored and reviled in seemingly equal measure. Those fascinated by K-pop and K-dramas hold the image that Korean men are tall, sensitive, charming, and dedicated to the point of jealousy and obsession in their love for a single partner. Another view has it that Korean men are little more than f ck boys, guilty of perpetuating a destructive patriarchy over the country, and their genitals happily mocked online. Both perspectives are, of course, incredibly extreme and they offer little in the way of truth or reality. There’s also a great irony in that those holding the latter wholly negative views see themselves as the most progressive.
This semester, I have taught nine different classes at two different universities here in Seoul. In doing so, I’ve interacted with hundreds of different young adults every week. It has been a fascinating opportunity to listen and learn about life not only in Korea, but from all over the world. I have classes filled with hijab-wearing Muslim women, non-binary North Americans, Chinese communists, laconic Scandinavians, passionate Russians, and lots and lots of Korean women.
I was walking out of a Fred Perry store in Gangnam’s COEX shopping mall when I decided I’d write this column. The man working there was incredibly friendly, happy to speak Korean, and he showed me how to sign-up to an app so I could get a decent discount on the two jumpers I bought for winter. Yet, the whole time, he had a single Bluetooth earphone in. Not two. Just one. I’m not sure if he was listening to something or not. I don’t think so, to be honest. But, nevertheless, there it was: his gateway into his world and an escape from the mundane reality of the service industry.
“Miguk-in onda,” the Korean kids used to shout at me as I walked past the convenience store. The mere sight of a white guy on the streets of Seoul causing them to break out in cheers and shouts, proclaiming that an American guy was coming. I didn’t really have the heart to tell them I was from the south of England, nor did I fancy trying to explain Benedict Anderson’s 1983 book Imagined Communities or the War of 1812 to them. So, I just smiled and played along. “What’s your name?” the loudest and most confident would yell out.
We all know that Korean people work hard. It’s something like a national motto. We study hard, practice hard, sing hard. The delivery drivers work hard. The pop stars work hard. The students work hard. Everything in the country appears to be the result of intense personal and collective effort. And what results it can sometimes bring! Our country today, with its political, economic, and cultural revolutions, stands proudly as a result. From nothing; from the devastation of war and colonization, we have built a country that millions now flock to.