No one really remembered when monsoon season had started. But we all noticed the change in everyday life. We only used the word "dry" to signify the lack of something. There was night and there was almost night. Both damp. Both without sun, folding in on each other like what I imagine a nuclear winter to be. A nuclear winter that still holds the heat of sub-atomic exlposion.
The air was always visable: mist rolling in over the mountain to settle in the winding alleyways of KSU, fog and steam rising from the hot and congested streets, and breath condensing and sinking like dry ice when it meets the monsoon morning air. I looked out of my window to decide if I needed an umbrella for the walk to work today. What was I thinking? I always need an umbrella during monsoon season. But I was hoping I could get by without it.
Across the street, I saw an ajumma standing on her enclosed balcony. It looked as though she was hanging laundry. But the clothes did not have the tell tale signs of being freshly spun by the washing machine. I could make out the creases that come from being folded and put away in a closet or on a shelf. She was hang-washing.
The was so much moisture in the air that you could hang your dry clothes and the water from the morning breeze would condense on every fiber of the fabric. Drops of water slowly formed and fell to the floor, taking with them the stale last season smell that clothes collect when neglected for months at a time. I watched her hang the laundry for some time. My mind wandered to Thailand and Cambodia. Then to Laos and Vietnam. Better buy a raincoat I thought. Then I grabbed my umbrella and headed for the door.
I don't remember when monsoon season started, but I hope it ends soon.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
The Sudden Minority
It could be said that the biggest culture shock for white westerners coming to Korea is the sudden loss of majority status. Is the transition easier for westerners of color going from minority to minority? Marcus Williams writes of culture shock, white privilege and new paradigms.
BUSAN, South Korea -- Most blogs penned by Expats in South Korea touch on Culture Shock at one time or another. For some, the Korean culture is so ‘foreign’ that they decide to pack it up and skip town during the first year, choosing not to adapt or cope with their new found surroundings. This departure can be with an approving nod from a willing employer or via the infamous ‘Midnight Run.’Many of us expats in the ROK have found some way to cope. I use the word ‘cope’ with specific intent. Life as a western foreigner can be challenging. We face a myriad of emotions and experiences that range from finding the culture mildly irritating to the other swing of the pendulum with the ‘I never want to leave,’ experience.
When I first arrived in the Land of the Morning Calm, I was truly overwhelmed with the vast contrasts in Busan with the slow, country charm of my home in North Carolina.
Perhaps the the greatest contrast was due simply to the color of my skin. Being black in South Korea is a sure fire way to stand out, stick out, and quite frankly, be singled out.
The fact is, every expat who is not Korean sticks out; and I find that a fair number of Koreans at times go out of their way to remind us of that at every turn.
One of the core aspects of the expat experience in Korea is created by this otherness. Those westerners amongst us, by geographical apportion, suddenly share a common minority status. We tend to have the same gripes, joys and pet peeves.
Interestingly, soon after arriving on the peninsula, I noticed that how we deal with being a minority can take on different modes. I suppose this is a good time to define “we.”
If you haven’t noticed, most of those teaching English in South Korea trend towards some variation of Caucasian decent. Whether from the US, Australia, Canada, South Africa, or the UK, they come from a life where being part of the majority culture was the norm. In short, Caucasians are going from majority to minority.
As a black American it is markedly different. And it is from this perspective I seek to understand how being a minority, for the first time, can have a profoundly different effect than being a minority such as myself in the midst of a new Majority.
I don't give a lot of thought to race relations and interactions normally, but at a multimedia event in Charlotte, North Carolina a while back, a friend of mine gave a talk about the costs and obligations of what she calls “white privilege.” The merits of her presentation were intrinsically important. The audience was mostly White. My friend who gave the lecture is White. It was a conversation to White Americans, from a White American, about the unseen benefits of being a White American. But more than that, it was a conversation about what it means to be afforded privilege because of where and what you were born.
For most white people it is unnecessary to give a moment's thought to white privilege --they are simply accustomed to certain things. For example: not being stared at, not being ignored, not being given less rights, not being treated with disrespect, not being marginalized, and so on.
While in the majority it is difficult to accurately measure or much less comprehend such behavior while you are in the majority. It is only when you move to a homogeneous country of “others” that the transcendent layer of white privilege evaporates. There you are: an other.
As a result, being in the minority can present itself as a form of culture shock. Don't get me wrong - the Korean culture is very different from what I knew back in the States. But different does not mean better or worse. It’s just different.
Earlier I spoke of being happy here. In other words, some of the cultural barriers that drive other expats away, don’t really get to me. Part of this is because I never had any illusions of privilege back home. Sure, I went to a good university and have worked for prestigious companies, but I have always been Black. And the coping skills I have learned as a black man in the States are exactly the skills one needs to survive in any country where they are the minority.
On the word “surviving,” I want to give this piece of advice to my other expat friends who happen to be White:
Get over it.
You are not being lynched, burned, beaten or called derogatory names. Well, at least not names that most of us understand.
But wait. Is my solution too simple? No one wants to be told to get over anything. It reduces your feelings and emotions to something less than meaningful. In fact, it might even be straight up offensive to the ear. And as offensive as it might seem, it is the most prudent advice I can offer.
And while I am taking a stark view at minority/majority perspectives, at the end of the day, nothing I say will be as real or as important as what you experience and what you feel.
Allow me to enumerate the privileges that exist back home that don’t exist here for much of the minority.
The List
- Media image
- Unreasonable expectations
- Dating
- Cultural contextual knowledge
- Privacy
- Being a scapegoat for societal ills
- Separate but not equal
- Cell phone contracts
- Employment contracts
- Equal access to banking and finance
- Housing
This list is how I arrange some of the paradigm shifting life issues that one might face as a sudden minority. It is by no means comprehensive or applicable for everyone. Take a moment and look at my list. Think about the problems you didn’t have before you moved to South Korea. Think about the problems you do have now. How many of them are a matter of perspective going from majority to minority? Make your own list.
Things have a way of working out. The payoff for this exercise is not enlightenment. But maybe, just maybe, a slight shift in perspective can lead to better understanding of how what other people do makes us feel. And if we understand how and why we feel, we might actually change how we respond.
The Sudden Minority | Busan Haps
The Sudden Minority | Busan Haps
I edited one of my early Korea blog posts and it was published on the Busan Haps website.
Butterfly
Butterfly
Did I see you at Kino eye
Looking fly, as I squeezed by
Saturday night
Drinking the well dry
Malted wheat
Apricot, hops and rye?
Got you feeling good
As the night moves by
Tried to catch your eye
Ouch, Denied
Strike one, no, sacrifice fly
Cutie with the booty,
I’ll be close by
You ain’t even gotta say a word
You’re a butterfly
In a bar full of birds
You ain’t even gotta say a word
You’re a butterfly
In a bar full of birds
You got slow game
Just a smile and your name
They all do it the same
Too many laying claim
But all with poor aim
It’s a damn shame
The way they play the game
Drives me insane
And you-
You ain’t even gotta say a word
You’re a butterfly
In a bar full of birds
You ain’t even gotta say a word
You’re a butterfly
In a bar full of birds
You ducking them nerds
You in the middle of the herd
Stiff arming them turds
Eliminating two thirds
Protected from the absurd
While I just watch and observe
You ain’t even gotta say a word
You’re a butterfly
In a bar full of birds
You ain’t even gotta say a word
You’re a butterfly
In a bar full of birds
But I can already foresee
It’s 4:43
The moment you’ll be
Leaving with me
I’m the sole survive-e
Of your turbulent seas
Stepping over debris
Crushing worker bees
Bruising heads and knees
Refugees and wanna be’s
Or wanna be ME’s
You ain’t even gotta say a word
You’re a butterfly
In a bar full of birds
What are you waiting for?
There’s the door
Paramore, let’s explore
I know what you’re here for
And that’s what I adore
So prepare the vessel
I’m coming ashore
Must be P Day and this is
World War Four-
You ain’t even gotta say a word
You ain’t even gotta say a word
You ain’t even gotta say a word
You’re a butterfly
In a bar full of birds
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