A Look at Jeju Women’s Lives Throughout Time

The history of Jeju women’s culture

Part 1 of a 2-part series

The history of the “strong Jeju women” is significant to understanding the women’s society of today.

At the core of Jeju women’s culture is the island’s mythology, beginning with a goddess-oriented creation myth and including multiple other goddesses. The longstanding shamanic religious tradition, of particular importance to women and including many female shamans, supports this mythology.

A two-volume book series on the topic of Jeju women’s history has been published online by the Jeju Development Institute (JDI) under the guidance of its president, Yang Young-oh. Following extensive research involving multiple scholars, together the books constitute more than 1,500 pages, with volume I addressing pre-Joseon era to 1910 and volume II covering 1910 to 1945.

Moon Soon Deok, senior researcher at JDI and an expert on Jeju women’s culture, led a 23-member research team for the second volume which was published earlier this year.

Several key events throughout history have contributed to the constitution of Jeju women’s society.

For more than a hundred years around the time of the 12th century, Mongolian troops occupied this island. According to historian and mythologist Kim Soonie, Jeju representative of the Cultural Heritage Administration, this was actually favorable to Jeju women as the Mongolians viewed women in a relatively egalitarian manner. During this time, a majority of Jeju women participated in the labor force and even learned to ride horses according to Mongolian custom, for example.

Confucianism became the guiding social system of the mainland under the Joseon dynasty (1392-1910), and was introduced to Jeju as well. It took hold primarily in the farming and mid-mountain villages where political exiles and other mainlanders typically settled, but was largely ignored by the coastal communities. The diving women, long devotees of the island’s shamanic traditions, rejected Confucianism’s hierarchical and male-centered ideals.

This resulted in two nearly distinct women’s cultures, according to scholar and author Han Rimhwa, in that women of the inland villages, with their newly adopted Confucian ideals, viewed the free and independent ways of the coastal women as “low-class” and “vulgar” behavior. These inner and outer regions seldom permitted intermarriage and had little to do with one another beyond trade of goods, according to Han.

For 200 years during this time, the people of Jeju were not permitted to leave the island. Scholars Moon, Kim, and Han all cite this period as particularly significant regarding the changes it brought to Jeju society, especially to its women.

A number of local women became common-law wives to the political exiles who were banished to the island. It was a source of pride, according to Kim, to bear a son who was the first to bring a new name – a new family line and registry – to Jeju.

“When the exile husbands returned to their original lives – and wives,” Kim described, “the Jeju women remained here with their families and community.” There was no stigma against them, and they were free to remarry – or not, as they chose, their children were typically supported by their absent father. A certain number of these exiles chose to remain on Jeju Island with their new families.

Several notable women emerged from this era, in particular the legendary entrepreneur and philanthropist of the 18th century, Kim Man Deok. As early as the 16th century, the renown of “medical women” Jangdeok and Gwigeum of Jeju reached the royal court. The “yeachong” were women who served in the military during the time of the Joseon dynasty.

Following this era came the period of Japanese colonization which, according to Kim, was also favorable to female workers as the Japanese included women equally in the labor force. However, according to Moon, there was “not much work for women” during this time due to various restrictions, and many women went to Japan to work in factories – and some as “hostesses” in bars and the equivalent. Many also ran “cottage industries” or home-based businesses organized by the Japanese during this time.

There are no documented “comfort women” from Jeju, those forced into sexual service to the Japanese troops, as can be identified on the mainland. However, there is speculation among many scholars, including Moon, Kim, and Han, that this was inevitably the case but that, as Jeju is a very small society, none have ever reported it in order to avoid the shame it would bring upon their families.

Notable women of this time, featured in the small museum at the Seolmundae Women’s Center, include Kang Pyung Guk, an educator and advocate for women’s rights; Choi Jeong Sook, first female superintendent of the Jeju education authority; Kim Shi Sook, leader of the independence movement on Jeju; and, Koh Su Seon, Jeju’s first female physician, among others.

Part 2 of a 2-part series

The women of Jeju are notoriously strong of body and mind – and will. Often considered “natural feminists” by scholars from the mainland and elsewhere, there is no denying that Jeju is historically an egalitarian and matrifocal culture in which women have been at the center of their homes and communities, and a driving economic force.

Is strength of character woven into the Jeju woman’s DNA? Is the famed “Strong Jeju Woman” born – or made?

The era known as “Sasam” or “4.3” followed the Japanese colonial period, a time of political unrest throughout Korea which resulted in violent anti-Communist crackdowns by the military and police forces and counter-rebellions by citizens, with the ultimate demise of up to one-tenth of Jeju’s population.

According to scholar and author Han Rimhwa and many others, the women’s experience of this time represents a multi-layered tragedy.

“Men and boys were typically the target of execution,” Han reported, “and the women had to bear not only the terror and hardship of that time but the loss of their husbands and sons as well.”

She elaborated, “Women were often raped, and many offered themselves sexually in trade for their family members’ lives. One woman I interviewed told me, ‘at that time, I wanted to kill myself – but I lived, for the sake of my family.’”

Han further recounted that many women went to the mainland or to Japan as refugees during this time, following the deaths of their loved ones, in a vain attempt to escape the violence and sorrow they had experienced. “They couldn’t forget the images, though,” she said, “and some committed suicide as a result.”

Historian and mythologist Kim Soonie, Jeju representative of the Cultural Heritage Administration, reported that women often volunteered for duty in the navy during this time, in a belief that this display of nationalism would protect their family members by counteracting any accusations of “communist” or “insurgent” which were being applied, often arbitrarily, to the people of Jeju.

In this modern era, much has changed for Jeju women.

Sudden change came to the community structure of Jeju Island in the 1970s, according to Han and others, due to the central government’s “Saemaeul” or New Villages economic movement as well as the advent of television and other media.

Highways began to crisscross the island, bringing increased mobility and interaction between regions, and tourism became a major industry on Jeju during that time.

Today’s women are more highly educated and professionally oriented than their ancestors. The haenyeo and farming women’s communities have shrunk considerably, and a majority of Jeju citizens, including women, live in the capital city – or off the island.

In this modern era, when traditions are rapidly disappearing and the definition of community and women’s roles are undergoing great change, identity has become the critical issue.

“Jeju women need enlightenment in order to improve Jeju,” Kim said. “We are selling our souls for tourism and money – but there’s more than this. We need soul healing,” she expressed.

“Young Jeju women are strong, but less so than their ancestors,” Moon opined, stating that she felt upset by this.

“What does it mean to be a Jeju woman today?” Han mused. “We have a new identity now – but we don’t know what it is. We need to rebuild Jeju women’s society – and take care of each other.”

Jeju Shamans, Healing Minds and Hearts

Shamanism as Folk Psychology

Part One of a 2-part Series.

Three mourners sat before the shaman as she placed her hand over each one’s heart in turn, pounded on their upper backs, blew air onto the crown of each head, and draped a cloth dipped in sacred water over their shoulders, all the while chanting a story of consolation.

They were the ones who had discovered the body of their drowned colleague and friend, and who now sat before the presiding shaman, Suh Sun Sil, at the funeral ritual. Suh, in a rite universal to all such traditions across the globe according to philosopher and shamanism expert Mircea Eliade, was helping them to retrieve the part of their souls that had been lost as a result of their shocking experience.

Earlier that day, words of consolation from the deceased woman to her colleagues, her haenyeo (female diver) sisters, poured from the mouth of Suh as she became a conduit between the living and the dead. In the early evening, Suh and three other shamans would accompany the husband and haenyeo sister-in-law of the deceased to the nearby shore where her body had been recovered, in order to call her spirit from its watery grave and give offerings to the Dragon King and water spirits in return.

▲ Shaman Suh Sun Sil performing memorial ritual for ‘keun-simbang’ (Grand Shaman) Lee Jung Chun. Photo by Hong Sunyoung.

On the second of the two-day ritual, Suh simbang (shaman, in Jeju dialect) would provide an elaborate rite to console the spirit of the dead woman and, in the role of psychopomp, usher her to the Otherworld.

In addition to soul loss and retrieval, universal themes of shamanic traditions according to Eliade include altered states of consciousness, travel by the shaman and spirits between material and immaterial planes, ecstatic states, delineated ritual space, sacred center and conduit and the concept of a quest, among others.

Four cross-cultural healing techniques of the shaman include the deliberate use of singing, dancing, storytelling, and silence, according to cultural anthropologist Angeles Arrien. Scholar Malindoma Some, in his 1997 book, “Ritual: Power, Healing and Community,” described the shamanic rites of his Dakara tribe in Burkina Faso as an opportunity each time for the healing of all members, not limited to those directly affected.

“The role of the shaman,” according to senior simbang Lee Yong Ok of Jeju City’s Chilmeoridang shamanic society in a recent interview, “is to comfort the client or community in abnormal circumstances, usually through song and dance.”

After ensuring her clients’ initial comfort, Lee then assesses through the use of divination whether the client’s circumstances can be effectively addressed through ritual or require medical or other intervention. She prefers seeing clients in their own homes if possible; otherwise, she meets them at the seashore.

Lee’s husband Kim Yoon Su, one of only two remaining keun simbang (grand shaman) on Jeju, expressed his concern in conversation last May over the lack of intergenerational transmission of Jeju shamanism. Fearing that modernization might soon bring an end to this practice, he allowed that he has no immediate successor as his own children did not follow in the family profession, unlike the generations before them.

▲ Shamans Kim Yoon Su and Lee Yong Ok in ritual. Photo provided by Chilmeoridang Yeongdeung-gut Preservation Society.

Rhi Bou Yong, neuropsychiatrist and Jungian psychologist, wrote his doctoral thesis on “Shamanism and the Korean Psyche” in the late 1960s at the C.G. Jung Institute in Zurich. Now retired from Seoul National University and currently the founding director of the Korean Association of Jungian Analysts in Seoul, he has published numerous related articles.

In our conversations in 2005 and 2006 as well as email communication of last year, Dr. Rhi repeatedly emphasized the importance of Korea’s shamanic tradition in defining as well as treating the collective Korean psyche.

Shaman Kim Keum Hwa agrees. A mainland shaman of North Korean heritage who bears the nationally designated title Important Intangible Cultural Asset No. 82, she holds an honorary doctoral degree and is considered a national treasure.

Initiated as a shaman at the age of 17, this now 83-year old mudang (mainland term for shaman) who has performed ritual in more than 25 countries and maintains a shamanic training center on Ganghwa Island, recounted one story after another regarding the effects of ritual on the clients who come to her for individual sessions. (Personal communication, 2005 and 2006.)

Kim traveled to Jeju in early October of this year to perform a public ritual with the well-known contemporary dancer, Hong Sincha, for the good of Jeju Island and its people.

The scientific foundation of indigenous psychology has been well established by scholars Kim Uichol and Park Young-Shin (Inha University, Incheon), among many others.

Koreans’ innate psychology has been explored in detail by Seoul scholars Choi Sang-Chin (Chung-Ang University) and Kim Kibum (Sungkyunkwan University), in particular the phenomenon of “cheong” or “shimcheong” [sic] which might be described as a feeling of close relationship that includes shared meaning in a context of community, and which is supported by the shamanic ritual.

Other examples of mental-emotional constructs within Korean culture include han, nunchi, and kibun, among others, all used to describe aspects of the Korean psyche which are not easily translatable into English nor precisely duplicated elsewhere.

The American Psychiatric Association’s manual on mental disorders, DSM-IV, includes a section on “culture-bound syndromes” – a constellation of mental-emotional symptoms which are only found in a particular culture and are most successfully addressed within that cultural milieu. It includes two from Korea: hwa-byeong and sin-byeong, the latter of which is experienced by those being called by the spirit world to become shamans.

Shamanism, in modern as well as historical eras, provides many of the same functions for Jeju society as does psychological counseling. Its form is flexible and adaptable, integrating modern elements as needed in order to maintain its relevance.

***

Part Two of a 2-part Series.

Shaman Lee Yong Ok, of the Chilmeoridang shamanic society, presided over an unusual memorial ritual earlier this month.

In remembrance of Yang Yong Chan, a student activist who became a martyr by self-immolation 20 years ago, the ritual was held in a park in Seogwipo along with other activities of remembrance and the dedication of a memorial stone.

Considering the circumstances of his death, the Chilmeoridang shamans combined two rituals in a new form likely never before performed in quite this way. Integrated were elements of both the traditional funeral ritual and the rites to the fire gods normally performed when a house has burned down – to ensure the safety of rebuilding on the site.

▲ Shaman Lee Yong Ok conducting memorial ritual for Yang Yong Chan. Photo by Anne Hilty.

In a moving display, the ritual had been constructed according to need, indicating the tradition’s flexibility and ability to continue to comfort and address the needs of a modern society.

In April of this year, the Jeju 4.3 Peace Foundation sponsored a national conference entitled, “4.3 Trauma, Seeking Healing.” In addition to specialists in the areas of history, psychiatry, and psychology, Jeju culture expert Moon Moo-Byung and Seoul scholar of religious studies Kim Seong-nae (Sogang University) spoke on the use of shamanic ritual for healing.

Kim, who has published considerably on Jeju shamanism, refers not only to its healing capabilities but also its role in determining the collective narrative, or cultural identity, thereby relating it to psychology in yet another way.

“…the shamanic epics and legends articulate the rhetoric about…the identity of Cheju [sic] people as tragic heroes and ‘frontier exiles,’” Kim has written.

The renowned Swiss psychiatrist and father of analytical psychology, Carl G. Jung, wrote extensively in the early 20th century on the parallels between shamanic practices and psychoanalysis, in particular regarding his theories on archetypes and collective unconscious and the role of the psychologist as a skilled facilitator of same. His contemporary, accomplished mythologist and prolific author Joseph Campbell, also exploredsuch parallels in detail.

Shaman Suh Sun Sil recounted, in an interview earlier this month, the story of a schizophrenic man brought to her for consultation.

Referring to his “fragmented spirit” and marginally successful prior medical treatment, she described her use of ritual to bring “comfort to his mind” in what might be termed “reintegration” by a psychologist. Following the ritual, he continued his medical protocol with greater success.

Shaman Suh also told of her use of dance and song to alleviate clients’ depression, ritual for the transformation of ‘han’ which is a constellation of suppressed emotions

▲ Shaman Suh Sun Sil in repose during ritual.

Photo by Brenda Paik Sunoo, author of “Moon Tides”. 

including resentment and unresolved grief and loss among others, rites for alleviating the delirium tremens and hallucinations of alcohol detoxification, and the facilitation of broken relationships “by repairing the spirit.”

Citing the power of words and her need to choose them carefully when designing and conducting rituals, Suh also identified the loss of ritual in modern society and the increase in stress and stress-related illnesses as a result.

Michael Winkelman (Arizona State University, USA) is considered one of the foremost scholars on shamanism today. Referring to shamanic practice as “neurotheology and evolutionary psychology” in his 2002 article in American Behavioral Scientist, he identified the psychophysiological effects of altered states of consciousness, neurotransmitter responses resulting from the combination of ritual and community, and the relationship of concepts regarding “spirit” to those of individual and group psychodynamics.

In his 2010 book, “Shamanism: A Biopsychosocial Paradigm of Consciousness and Healing,” Winkelman elaborated on the “shamanic paradigm” as “self-empowerment” which “strengthens individuals’ ability to take an active role in their health and well-being” and “enhances the [full] use of [the] brain, conscious and unconscious” in its emphasis on the “vital connection with community and the spiritual dimension of human health.”

Shaman Lee relayed in a recent interview the 40 year-old story of a Jeju physician with chronic migraines who, after all treatment failed, was scheduled for brain surgery in Seoul. Prior to surgery, he consulted Jeju shaman Moon Ok Sun, who was the mother of Kim Yoon Su, keun simbang (grand shaman) and leader of the Chilmeoridang shaman society – and Lee’s husband.

During the ritual, Shaman Moon discovered that the physician’s brother had been executed during the 1948 turmoil on Jeju and mourning rituals were never performed because they were forbidden at that time.

Shaman Moon performed rituals to comfort the dead and the living, and the physician’s migraines were resolved without surgery. Later, in his clinical practice, he was known for referring treatment-resistant cases to the shamans for ritual.

“Jeju society today still has unresolved trauma from that time,” voiced Shaman Lee, “and Jeju people are not comforted.” Citing mass graves and ongoing identification of the dead, she proposed the need for public funeral rites and soul retrieval.

She also described her work with “heartbroken” clients, divorcing couples, and those experiencing depression “as a result of being blamed unjustly by others.”

The shaman, like the psychologist, pursues an extensive period of formalized training, often in the form of apprenticeship to a senior practitioner and internship under supervision. The concept of “wounded healer,” referring to the shaman – or psychologist – who can deeply empathize as a result of his or her own earlier experience with pain, is common to both professions.

All shamanic ritual follows a standard format. Beginning with a clearly delineated purpose and rites of preparation and purification, the facilitating and supporting shamans shift their consciousness to that of a trance state, invoke the spirits, and request their beneficence. The main task is then addressed in a variety of rites, participants or clients express their gratitude by making offerings, the spirits are then dismissed, and the ritual brought to closure. Ultimately, the boundaries of the sacred space are opened once more, the ritual bond between shamans and participants is released, and all return to their everyday lives.

The counseling session between psychologist and client follows a near-identical basic pattern.

Sharing features with such traditions throughout the world’s cultures, Jeju shamanism provides comfort to a number of the island’s native people. While the shamanic rites are not offered as frequently today as they were 50 years ago, according to shamans Kim, Lee, and Suh, the practice of shamanism remains a vital element in the health of Jeju society, worthy of preservation.

Jeju Olle and the Korean psyche:

Healing minds and hearts

▲ There are over 400 kilometers of Olle walking trails to explore around the island. Photo courtesy Jeju Olle Trail.

Jeju Olle is helping to heal the minds of Korean people.

A post-conflict, post-colonial society with an ongoing threat of military aggression from the North and an unprecedented rate of development, many local experts and average citizens agree: Korea is in need of healing.

Indicators of a society under stress include Korea’s high rates of suicide, depression, anxiety and divorce, accompanied by long working hours, extreme competitiveness in education and elsewhere and a rapid-pace lifestyle with little concept of leisure.

When a staff member at Jeju Olle was asked about the healing effects to be found in walking these trails, she began with, “I’d like to tell you my personal story.”

“I came to Jeju on the advice of a friend who was volunteering for Jeju Olle,” began Lee Su Jin, “at a time when I was physically exhausted, in poor health, and facing a very difficult situation in my life. I walked one trail each day for 10 days in a row,” she continued, “and by the end of that time, I felt truly healed.”

Lee subsequently changed her life, moved to Jeju, and began working with the Jeju Olle team.

“In the beginning of your walk,” she said, “you look at the beautiful scenery and interact with other people. After a while, your thoughts turn inward and you begin contemplating your own life. And finally, your mind empties completely, and you feel refreshed, and whole again.”

“In the end, you meet yourself,” she concluded.

Suh Myung Sook, the visionary who saw both the need for and the possibility of this remarkable trail system at a time (just a few years ago) when local officials were skeptical of Koreans’ interest in such an endeavor, has had much to say about the healing power of Jeju Olle.

Referring to Korea’s recent experience with war and poverty, she has said that Koreans react strongly to minor setbacks, compete with one another for resources and societal position, and “have forgotten how to relax” and handle challenges in a healthy manner.

“Our society is exhausted and stressed,” Suh relayed in a December 2010 conversation, reiterating her belief in a meeting just this week, “with a need for contemplation.”

The notion of healing can seem foreign to Koreans upon questioning. “We don’t typically use this concept” was conveyed by both Kim Jeyon and Han Youngsook, a sentiment echoed by others.

Speak of the “well-being” and “slow” movements which have emerged in the past few years, however, or of the need to relax or feel more comfortable or develop a leisure culture, and everyone agrees.

Korea, like many regions in Asia but perhaps even more so, suffered multiple traumas throughout the 20th century. During the 35-year period of occupation by Japanese armed forces, two successive world wars and numerous regional conflicts swirled around this tiny peninsular nation.

Immediately following Korea’s liberation, the country was thrust into several chaotic years during which it attempted to set up forms of governance never before experienced, resulting in numerous episodes of mass violence on Jeju and throughout the mainland, multiple casualties and wounded survivors, and a country divided. Soon thereafter, the civil war that ultimately involved outside players ensued.

Reeling from the years of this war during which Seoul was flattened three times, many children were orphaned, and poverty and starvation were the norm, Korea entered a period of nation-building which was to include a globally unprecedented rate of economic development. According to Ewha University international studies professor Brendan Howe, this too represents a profound stress.

“When post-conflict nations develop too rapidly,” Howe, a specialist in the area of human security, said at this year’s conference of Korea International Studies Association last month, “it may be good for their economies but it is a great hardship on their psyches.”

Indeed, the types of large-scale mental illness and social problems caused by the trauma that conflict – and colonization, instability, state-sanctioned violence, authoritarian regimes and repression, and extreme poverty – can bring are exhibited in Korea’s skyrocketing rates of suicide, divorce, depression and anxiety.

Intergenerational transmission is a well-acknowledged phenomenon in trauma research, indicating that the wounds borne by a society do not stop with the generation directly affected.

Enter Jeju Olle, and founder Suh.

“At first, the local officials scoffed at my idea,” Suh said in our conversation last year and reiterated this week. “Koreans typically travel like they live – in a rush, consuming but not enjoying, not contemplating. Local government thought that no one would want to travel to Jeju just to walk on nature trails.”

They were wrong. Jeju’s Olle trail system has been consistently voted the favored destination, according to surveys conducted by the Korea Tourism Organization. The estimated number of participants has grown from 3,000 the first year to more than 800,000 in 2010, a rate anticipated to have risen significantly again this year.

Suh’s idea has proven to be exactly what wounded and stressed Koreans needed.

The ultimate goal of trauma resolution, according to scholars of psychology and related fields, is the return of trust, hope, and caring relationships. The healing powers of nature, mindfulness meditation, social relationships as well as solitude, volunteerism, empowerment and community integration are all well documented.

Each of these elements can be found in the Jeju Olle experience.

The message of Jeju Olle, expressed in Suh’s “rules” for walking the trails, provides an apt metaphor for well-being:

Walk slowly. Go at your own pace, enjoying the scenery. Do what you’ve always wanted to do. Interact with the local community, “grasping their willing hands.” All routes are “the best.” Walk lightly on this earth, with the least amount of harm to it – or to others. Talk to strangers along the way. Go green. Follow ancient footpaths. Maintain safety.

It isn’t only the walkers who benefit, however; each person potentially carries this message home to his or her local community.

Jeju Olle is helping to heal the people of Jeju as well. Referring to the island’s “scars,” Suh has suggested that peace is an ultimate and universal value, reflected in these trails.

“Jeju is my ‘hometown,’” said Jeju National University instructor Han Youngsook, who has walked every Jeju Olle trail, some of them repeatedly. “Maybe visitors who walk for many days in a row feel more ‘healing power’ – but after walking an Olle trail, I always feel happy and pleased with myself, stronger and more energetic, refreshed, with a ‘clear mind’ and the recollection of many good memories from my childhood.”

Suh Myung Sook, in recent efforts to integrate Jeju Olle with other trail systems around the world, now dreams of Jeju as the center for Asian eco-tourism.

In war-torn Asia, this may be just what the doctor ordered.

***

In a brief follow-up interview Suh Myung Sook, founder of Jeju Olle, had this to add:

Regarding Jeju Olle and the healing of Korea’s wounded psyche, what are your thoughts?

I believe that it’s a very accurate and insightful analysis. In fact, from what I’ve heard, Jeju Olle is healing the minds of many. In reality, nature has a therapeutic effect, often called “eco-healing.” Yet, why are so many people experiencing and talking about a healing effect after walking Jeju Olle? It’s because Jeju’s nature is not too big, not too wide, not too vast, yet still very beautiful and lyrical. Standing in front of vast and magnificent forms of nature, people are not only in awe but also daunted and intimidated, reminded of human insignificance. However, Jeju’s soft oreums and wide ocean nurse humans, and nurture their minds. That’s why Jeju Olle is a healing trail.

There seems to have been a recent ‘paradigm shift’ in Korean thinking and being, due in part to Jeju Olle’s influence. Would you share your thoughts on this?

Following liberation, for decades Korea has gone through a compressed modernization process on top of its scars from the war. This has resulted in magnificent achievement and developments, never seen elsewhere in the world, yet it also gave Korea a “hurry hurry” (palli-palli) culture and competitive society. Koreans have even experienced their leisure activities in the same way: the faster the better, and the more the better. However, we recommend that people walk slowly, resting and playing on the Jeju Olle. In that way, people can truly enjoy [internal] conversation with themselves and with nature. That’s why Korean people say Jeju Olle has changed the tour and leisure culture of Korea, from car trips to walking trips, and from a “tour culture filled with dots” in which people move from Point A to Point B, to a “tour culture filled with lines” in which people enjoy the process.

I and many others consider you a visionary, recognizing what Korean people needed when others couldn’t see it — and finding a way to make it a reality. How do you feel about this?

I’m a little shy to be called a visionary. However, in my journalist background, for 20~30 years I lived the most typical Korean life, chasing after success and developing my career at a rapid pace. As a result, I was physically and mentally exhausted. And in order to reflect and to heal myself, I quit my job and left for the Camino de Santiago [trail in Spain]. On the trail, I thought about making a trail in my own hometown, and my wish became reality with much help and support of so many people around me. In the sense that I once felt the pain that all Koreans share, and tried hard to find a solution in the midst of it, it could be a matter of “one who experienced [healing] earlier” or “the one to put [this dream] into action.”

The 4th Jeju Haenyeo Festival

A celebration of the island’s diving women, October 15 to 16

Photo by Anne Hilty.

The 4th Jeju Haenyeo Festival took place on Oct. 15 and 16 at the Haenyeo Museum in Hado-ri and nearby Sehwa Port.

A much larger event than in previous years, the express purpose of the festival, according to Dr. Choa Hye-Gyoung of its organizing committee, was to contribute to the preservation of the diving women’s culture through increased awareness and, ultimately, renewed inter-generational transmission.

“Haenyeo culture globalization” and the potential for UNESCO designation of the diving women’s profession is currently in an exploratory phase. Toward that end, Governor Woo Keun Min awarded certificates to members of an “international promotion team” consisting of 14 foreigners representing 10 countries.

Opening and closing ceremonies of the festival were provided by the Chilmeoridang Yeongdeung-gut Preservation Society. The UNESCO-recognized shamanic Yeongdeung ritual is closely associated with the haenyeo culture.

Celebrated vocalist Han Seo-Kyung and the cast of Nanta PMC Jeju gave dynamic contemporary performances, prompting spontaneous audience participation.

Photo by Anne Hilty.

Photo by Anne Hilty.

Traditional cultural performances were also provided, in forms of song, dance, and a dramatic play. Notably, the “Song of the Haenyeo,” designated by Jeju’s provincial government as Intangible Cultural Asset No. 1, was performed by its official Skill Holders, Kim Young-ja and Kang Deung-ja.

Japan’s Toba City Ama Performance Team depicted in song and dance the tradition of southern Japan’s “ama,” counterpart to Jeju’s haenyeo. Sara Arts Group performed the sorrowful and nostalgic “Chulga Haenyeo Song” concerning those divers compelled by economic circumstance to regions outside of Jeju.

Other cultural performers included an 11-member troupe of haenyeo from the Daepyung-ri Diving Association, Jeju Farming Song Preservation Society (Intangible Cultural Asset No. 16), Ieodo Drama Company, Folklore Preservation Association of Gujwa-eup, and Lee Dance Company.

Competitions were a highlight of the festival, among them diving and shellfish harvesting, topshell de-shelling, taewak swimming, seafood cooking, and singing. For children, there were photo and drawing competitions, and the making of fish farms.

Photo by Anne Hilty.

As promoted, the festival was highly experiential. Options included diving with the haenyeo, shallows harvesting of turban shell and conch, and taewak net-making. Informational displays for many local fish and shellfish were provided and the products available for purchase, courtesy of Suhyup.

The Jeju Haenyeo Festival Committee accomplished a well-organized and attended festival celebrating Jeju’s diving women.

Disclosure: the author is one of the designated “international ambassadors” for Jeju haenyeo culture.

‘Haenyeo Culture Globalization’

New and continued efforts at preservation

Photo courtesy of Brenda Paik Sunoo, author of “Moon Tides”

How to preserve a subculture that’s literally dying out?

The world is fascinated with the “haenyeo,” Jeju’s unique free-divers – almost exclusively women – whose occupation it is to harvest marine products without benefit of breathing apparatus.

Numerous articles have been written about them in the foreign media, and they inspire documentary films, visual and performance art, and other endeavors.

Yet, as Jeju continues to modernize – and climate change as well as pollution threaten sea life – so too is this unusual subculture facing extinction.

Several preservation efforts have been implemented and many others are in various stages of development, including the potential for UNESCO designation as an “intangible cultural asset.”

But to what end?

The issue is complicated. The profession has existed on Jeju for nearly two millenia and is arguably the most iconic feature of this island society, thus worthy of preservation. It is also due to this profession, coupled with a shamanic mythology rich in goddess imagery, that a matrifocal, egalitarian culture emerged on Jeju.

In contrast, however, the haenyeo work has been locally viewed throughout its history as one of manual labor – “3D,” as the saying goes in Korea, “dirty, dangerous, and difficult” – and the diving women considered among the lower strata of society.

The women themselves have not placed much value on the significance of their profession in the context of Jeju culture, and have encouraged their daughters to seek safer, cleaner and “more respectable” types of employment.

The haenyeo do value their community, however, and many describe their experience of the sea in glowing terms, as a place familiar and comfortable, where they forget all their troubles, and that “calls” to them when they are on land, luring them back to this watery world.

They also tend to speak favorably of the sisterhood they have found among their colleagues, and the economic independence and general autonomy that their work brings.

Dr. Choa Hye Gyoung, senior researcher at the Haenyeo Museum, has suggested that the demise of the haenyeo subculture would lead to the collapse of their local communities – as the women and their profession are so closely linked with the identity and well-being of their coastal villages.

Cultural preservation efforts are well underway, to which the museum in Hado-ri, school and “experience” in Gwideok-ri, and demonstration in Seongsan-ri attest. A committee has been exploring the possibility of UNESCO status for the haenyeo since 2006.

The Haenyeo Culture Festival is in its 4th year, and this year’s event has a dedicated focus of preservation. Statues and other haenyeo-related artwork can be found throughout the island.

Photo courtesy of Brenda Paik Sunoo, author of “Moon Tides”

Last month, Jeju Provincial Council’s special committee for women sponsored a forum entitled, “Haenyeo Culture Globalization.” Dr. Choa participated, as did Dr. Yoo Chul-In of Jeju National University’s anthropology department and several others.

The committee will hold a second such forum this month, with a focus on UNESCO designation. Dr. Yoo has been involved with haenyeo-related UNESCO endeavors from the beginning.

Attending this forum were many of the haenyeo themselves, who questioned the value of preservation and UNESCO designation, begging the question: who are these efforts meant to benefit?

It is a well-known fact, however, that members of a culture often don’t fully recognize its worth until external validation is established. In cultural studies, there is a saying: “If you want to know about the water… don’t ask the fish.” Inherent wisdom aside, humans are reluctant to place value upon what for them is the norm.

The diving women of Jeju are only now beginning to realize the worth, and the uniqueness, of their profession. This, too, is the primary benefit of obtaining UNESCO and other recognition: in so doing, a greater value is attributed to the profession and its cultural context, which in turn can serve to attract the younger generation the profession once more.

Other preservation efforts in various stages of progress include the development of “eco-villages” in those coastal communities with especially large or active haenyeo organizations. An eco-village is a “living museum” in which the profession would continue but also be highlighted by educational and commercial facilities. The haenyeo themselves would be the key participants in such endeavors.

In addition to the actual diving and marine harvesting skills that these women possess, their knowledge of the sea, passed down through generations and finely tuned through each individual’s decades of diving, is to be highly valued.

Related preservation efforts will also focus on this knowledge, with the potential for educational programs and publications, ecological preservation projects, “eochongye” collective economics models, “bulteok” forms of “town hall” governance, and more.

As world attention increasingly focuses on the haenyeo and their profession, complete with cultural attributes of community, mutual aid, egalitarianism, shamanism, mythology, and eco-friendly business practices, these women find themselves in the limelight.

A structured method of charging for media access, universally applied, could bring an additional source of revenue to the women whose sea would seem to be dying.

If the diving profession were once again among the more lucrative on Jeju, this time with an added layer of respect, it would do well to attract the young and continue its longevity.

One advantage of those societies developing as of the late 20th and early 21st centuries is that they can learn from and avoid the mistakes of others that developed before them. The “tiger economies” of South Korea, Singapore, Taiwan and Hong Kong are prime examples.

So too with cultural preservation. Global value is currently being placed on indigenous wisdom, folk medicine, deep ecology, community bonds and mutual aid, collective economics, and tradition in general.

Rather than discarding and then scrambling to retrieve these features, Jeju has the option of preserving them now – before they are lost.

Folk villages help maintain link to past

A look at Jeju’s efforts to memorialize its traditional culture

Seongeup Folk Village. [Photo by Anne Hilty.]

How to preserve tradition?

This is a conundrum faced by developing societies throughout the world. Modernization – and colonization and mass trauma – take their toll on a culture’s traditional practices and thus, identity.

Jeju, like all of Korea, has undergone an unprecedented rate of development over the past four decades. As a result, in conjunction with Korea’s mid-century war and the immediately preceding period of state-sanctioned violence on Jeju which followed a 36-year occupation by Japan, Jeju’s cultural identity has greatly suffered.

There is a universal tendency to realize the demise of tradition when it’s already or nearly gone, accompanied by a sudden, often sentimental effort to memorialize it.

The balance between modernization and cultural preservation is delicate and challenging, and a current focus of Jeju society.

Folk villages, museums, festivals, recreation “experiences,” cultural tours, educational programs, international presentations, academic studies, as well as the arts – visual, performance, and literary – are all methods of preserving heritage, though not without their critics.

Jeju has several folk villages, as well as smaller village models housed within museums.

Jeju Folk Village. [Photo by Anne Hilty.]

The largest of these is the Jeju Folk Village Museum, located in Pyoseon, Seogwipo City, just a few paces from the beach.

In the shadow of the Haevichi Hotel & Resort Jeju, the Jeju Folk Village Museum covers more than 157,000 meters square and is a popular site for the filming of television dramas. The mock village includes more than 100 homes relocated from various sites throughout Jeju and reflects life on the island in the late 19th century.

While the museum offers comprehensive detail regarding Jeju life 100 years ago, it has a disjointed feeling precisely in that the structures come from many areas of the island. The housing styles don’t differ dramatically, but the site doesn’t coalesce into an authentic village representation. Its educational merit, however, is unparalleled among the island’s folk villages.

Nearby Seongeup Folk Village, also located in Pyoseon District but in Seong-eup 1(il) Village, can be identified as a “living museum.” Originally established in nearby Goseong Village in 1410, it was moved in 1423 to its present site which had been the island’s capital during the earlier Goryeo period.

There are no audio tours, admission fees or brochures, and minimal signage or other educational opportunities. Craftspeople maintain several of Jeju’s handcraft traditions, and folk plays are offered; traditional foods are also available.

What makes this village unique, aside from a few souvenir shops, is its intact quality: many generations of families have lived in the village and in these very homes, modernized today in terms of plumbing, electricity, and windows but retaining their antiquated structure.

Designated as Korea Important Cultural Asset No. 188, this village helps to preserve Jeju’s traditional culture in its visual representation and authenticity.

Hallim Folk Village. [Photo by Anne Hilty.]

Jae-Am Folk Village, a notable model or reproduction, can be found in Hallim Park. It affords educational opportunities and is beautifully displayed, in an equally attractive botanical setting.

An even smaller model folk village can be found in the first gallery of the Haenyeo Museum of Hado Village, where both a typical fisher/diver house and a scale model village are on display.

To experience village life firsthand, or at least the traditional accommodation thereof, one can stay in the recently opened traditional village guesthouses of Jeju Stone Culture Park.

Do any of these sufficiently preserve Jeju’s traditional culture? They cannot. But they can help people to remember how their ancestors once lived, and can educate the rest of us in a way of life recently lost.

Jeju Harvest

A look at the cultural practices of the Chuseok season

As Chuseok approaches, so does the celebration of harvest.

Often called “Korea’s Thanksgiving,” we would do well to recall that “thanksgiving” in cultures around the world is a harvest festival of agrarian subsistence.

In Jeju’s traditional agriculturally-based society, life centered around the concept of harvest – rituals to entreat the gods for bounty and related myths, communal labor practices and collective economics, unique farming methods to compensate for a harsh environment and the songs which accompanied these tasks.

Harvest comes in many forms: from the planted and tilled farmland to the wild herbs, nuts, and berries to be gathered, to the sea and its watery field. The villages of Jeju have always relied heavily on harvest, whether seaside or inland. Traditional holidays are therefore primarily based on agrarian cycles.

In winter, Jeongwol Daeboreum – the fire festival – burns the fields of vermin in preparation for planting and livestock grazing to come. Ipchun heralds the coming spring and is considered a harvest festival as its ritual entreats the gods for their beneficence.

So too is the Yeongdeung-gut, a ritual designated by UNESCO as a World Cultural Heritage, as the goddess of wind and earth visits the island for two weeks, scattering her seed in the waters as well as on land. An observance by fishermen and diving women alike, it sits in contrast to the Jamsu-gut, a ritual solely for the diving women as they begin their new season of harvesting marine products from the sea.

The end of summer is marked by Ipchun, and Chuseok celebrates the harvest bounty.

In addition to the agrarian goddess Yeongdeung, Jacheonbi and Gopang Halmang are also Jeju goddesses of the earth, presiding over agricultural practice and entreated for bountiful harvest.

The people of Jeju had to cope with a stony topography and windy climate, both challenging to agrarian practice. They developed methods like building low stone fences around the fields and tamping of the topsoil over seed by human feet and horse hooves. In harvesting sea product, similar stone fences were built to create tidal pools called “wondam” from which a daily catch, especially of anchovies, could be gathered.

These labor practices, as well as related ones like millstone grinding, were of necessity performed communally, contributing to the village structure and community bonds which define Jeju’s traditional society. In order to ease the burden of their work, Jeju people developed numerous labor songs.

These labor songs of Jeju are of two types: rhythmic ones meant to accompany repetitive work such as rowing, hoeing or threshing; and a more unique heterophonic style called “bang-ae sori,” in which a lead singer improvised a verse while the remainder responded in an often overlapping chorus.

Jeju people were known for their rhythm, one charming feature of which was a type of drumming on “heobeok,” the pottery jar used for carrying water. Women returning from the well would sit to rest and begin beating the jars in time, improvising not only their rhythm but accompanying song.

The Jeju government has a program whereby “Skills Holders” of traditional practices are officially designated as such. Yoon Kyung Noh, 91, is the only remaining skills holder of Gangjeong Village’s “Rice Harvest Song.” Kim Young Ja and Kang Deung Ja are skills holders of the “Song of the Haenyeo,” traditionally sung when rowing the boat to the diving location; they perform every Saturday at the Haenyeo Museum.

Examples of labor songs include “The Weeding Song” known as “odolttogi”or “dunggeuraedangsil,” thought to have first emerged in 1890 and sung to accompany the weeding by hand of the millet field, and the “Song of Stamping the Dry Field” or “batbapneunsori,” the aforementioned farming custom peculiar to Jeju.

Other labor songs accompanied mill-stone grinding of harvested grains, anchovy harvesting, the autumn roof thatching with freshly harvested straw, and much more.

For a people so accustomed to long days of heavy manual labor, the autumn harvest was surely welcomed.

Chuseok, a time to honor the ancestors by cleaning their graves and performing rituals of remembrance in which freshly harvested crops were offered on the altar, celebrates this time of bounty.

The Myths of Jeju

Understanding a Culture Through its Stories

“To understand a place and its people, you must learn about its mythology.”

These are the words of Kim Soonie, Jeju mythologist and local representative of the Cultural Heritage Administration. Renowned scholar of psychology Carl G. Jung and mythologist Joseph Campbell both wrote extensively on this concept.

The mythology of a people tells us not only about their past but also about their collective worldview and the underpinnings of modern-day society.  Jeju, an island of “18,000 gods” and a longstanding shamanic tradition inherited from eastern Siberia, is an area rife with myths.

Do the people of 21st century Jeju truly believe that a giant goddess – rather than a volcano – created this island and outlying islets?

Do they believe that the patriarchs of Jeju’s three original tribes – Bu, Ko, and Yang – actually emerged from the ground like snakes?
Devotees of the local shamanic religion may well be true believers. Others may dismiss these myths and legends as mere superstition. Many advocate the preservation of myth as an aspect of Jeju’s cultural heritage.

A transpersonal understanding advocates for all of these – in viewing the myths as metaphor for understanding a culture’s deepest features. In this way, Jeju’s myths relate to those of other cultures across the globe – and throughout time, as an exploration of what it means to be human.

The worldview of Jeju is evidenced in its myths, according to mythology scholar Koh Heakyoung, author of the award-winning “In the Beginning was Seolmundae” (2010).

“The gut [shamanic ritual], which unfolds an entire cosmic drama from the beginning of the world to the present, gives palpable experience to the web of life in which Jeju’s people spiritually and psychologically locate themselves,” Koh has written.

“Symbolic and mythic [ways of] living and seeing the world are deeply embedded in the Jeju people’s daily lives,” she furthered. “The inhabitants in Jeju see the image in nature from which the story spontaneously unfolds.”

Among the numerous myths and legends of this island, three themes emerge as primary: a zoomorphic snake deity, a female inseminator called Yeongdeung, and the cosmogonic goddess known as Seolmundae.

In addition to the myth of Grandmother Seolmundae, the giant creator of this island, Jeju has two related origin myths.

One tells of the origin of the universe, in which a “King of Heaven” (sometimes referred to as an emperor) created a somewhat chaotic world with two suns and two moons; subsequent myths focus on sons of this deity whose task it was to create order out of chaos.

Another recounts the origin of Jeju’s people, a story of three demi-gods who emerged from the ground and three princesses who arrived on Jeju’s shores from a mythical kingdom across the sea.

Having a female deity at the center of its creation myth, according to Koh, is highly unusual among the world’s mythologies and a primary ingredient of the “strong Jeju women” concept.

Jeju myths are largely an oral tradition preserved by its shamans and transmitted in songs known as “ponpuri sinhwa” which are performed in ritual. According to scholar Chin Song-gi, former director of the Jeju Folklore Museum, there are three types of deities: those who descended from the heavens, ascended from the underworld, or transited laterally from ancestral lands — predominantly, China.

Many of these deities were once in mortal form, as it is not uncommon for exceptional members of Jeju society to be posthumously deified in the shamanic tradition.

A close relationship between humans and the natural world is found in all indigenous peoples, a concept repeatedly demonstrated by Jeju mythology. Jeju’s world view, according to Koh, has five features as evidenced by its mythological traditions: egalitarianism, root metaphor, “communitas,” simultaneous unity and diversity, and a close relationship with deity.

The egalitarianism of Jeju has supported the idea of “strong women” and equal, though clearly defined, social roles. This has most often manifested in communal labor practices.

Root metaphor is indicated in a kinship between deities and humans, a relationship which is intimate and only slightly or non-hierarchical.

“Communitas,” defined as an “essential and generic human bond” by scholar Victor Turner, is clearly evidenced in a longstanding sense of community bonding, a web of familial and intra-village relationships, and a complex system of villages throughout the island. Further, described repeatedly in myth and exhibited throughout Jeju society is a paradoxical embracing of unity while allowing for diversity.

“Jeju is a post-industrial society influenced by both oral and written cultures, by cyclical and lineal time paradigms, and by mythical and abstract thinking,” Koh said.

Joseph Campbell proposed a “four-fold function” of mythology: a metaphysical addressing of such concepts as deity and the supernatural, cosmological description of the origin and evolution of the natural world, sociological guidance in the development of social order, and the psychological explanation of individual lifespan development.

Korea is well known for its religious syncretism, or harmonious integration of belief systems, and Jeju is no exception. In addition, Jeju inhabitants, having suffered enormous hardship and emotional trauma in the past, are noted for their resilience.

Koh links these elements: “It seems that the enormous resilience of Jeju people’s mind is nourished by the vastness of the world of myth which enables them to absorb other ideologies and religions and is the source of syncretism….”

Whether the mythology of Jeju is believed literally or metaphorically today, or dismissed altogether, it clearly continues to shape present-day society, again best expressed by Koh.

“Jeju Island is a mythic land in which the inhabitants are saturated with the sacred.”

This article is the first in a series on Jeju’s myths. Next in the series: Grandmother Seolmundae: Jeju’s Giant Creator Goddess. 

Portrait of a Diving Woman

A glimpse into the life of Jeju’s famed ‘jamsu’

▲ A jamsu harvests sea products from the ocean floor.

Photo by Brenda Paik Sunoo, author of “Moon Tides”

“We go to the Otherworld [jeoseung] to earn money, and return to the earthly world [iseung] to save our kids.”

 
From mother to daughter, this proverb has been passed down through generations of Jeju’s diving women. It provides encouragement, solace, and purpose in life.

“When I’m in the sea and the weather is bad, the water unclear, I often wonder: why am I doing this? But when it’s a good day, and the catch is in sight, my mind is completely empty except for my goal. And when I emerge from the water, all of my worries and cares have somehow disappeared.”

A common sentiment among the diving women, these are the words of Hong Kyung-ja, 62, the chief of Hansu village fishing collective – and a diver for 50 years.

Hong describes her profession in terms of freedom: ease of both movement and spirit when in the water, the right to decide for herself each day whether she dives or not, and a measure of control over her own destiny.

Jeju Island has 100 fishing villages and thus, 100 “eochongye” or economic collectives which govern both fishers and divers. With fewer than 20 women in the position of “gyejang,” an office decided by election, Hong – who has served as such for 8 years thus far – is in a minority.

She cites little difficulty being a woman in this position, mentioning only that she would sometimes like to meet with a colleague over dinner or drinks to thank him or discuss business, but as a woman in Jeju’s Confucian society, is prohibited by social norms from doing so. However, there are also advantages conferred by her gender.

Hong continues to dive nearly every day, believing that she can better help her divers by having firsthand, up-to-date knowledge of the profession and the sea’s condition – including its pollution.

She also helps other divers develop leadership qualities.

“We are a community,” she says. “We fight at times, yet we are like a family.”

According to Hong, members of the collective take care of one another, contributing to the well-being of the sick and elderly, and split their profits equally regardless of individual ability. They cook and eat together and often collaborate in small businesses like seafood restaurants.

The Hansu collective recently won an award for community spirit from the Haenyeo Museum located in Hado village, Gujwa district.

There is often confusion regarding the term for these diving women. Though it differs from one village to the next, the divers generally prefer “jamsu” (diving women), according to Hong and others.

“Haenyeo” is the most well-known term, first appearing in 18th century Jeju literature but it has gained in popularity only recently as a tourism term. It means “sea-female” and evokes images of mermaids.

Hong explained, “In [the] Korean language, the word ‘nyeo’ means female but is typically used for young girls: to women, it can feel demeaning.” ‘Yeo’ or ‘yeoseong’ are the generally accepted terms for women.

“Among ourselves, it’s simply ‘onni’ [sister] or ‘samchun’ [liter. ‘uncle’ but used generically for those village members who are one’s elder],” Hong said. She added that a few years ago, the Jeju government asked all collectives to forego “haenyeo” and use “jamnyeo” or “jamsu” instead. This has not yet become common practice.

The Hansu collective has 152 members, including 81 women and 71 men. Of their earnings, 3.5 percent remains with the organization, 1.5 percent helps to maintain the office and other buildings, while the remaining 2 percent is applied toward “ceremony” and “reinvestment in the sea.”

Hong explained that there are two annual ceremonies, or shamanic rites, held for the collective: Yeongdeung-gut, held early in the lunar calendar for both fishers and divers to entreat the beneficence of a sea deity; and Jamsu-gut, also held in early spring but strictly for divers.

In addition, divers regularly perform their own rite, known as “pungeogiwonje,” for safety and prosperity.

As to “reinvestment” in or “feeding” the ocean, each collective cultivates shellfish seedlings that they release into the sea, a common marine practice.

“The sea is turning white,” Hong said. “There is no more seaweed left. The marine life is much less than it was in my youth.”

“When a typhoon damages the farmers’ crops, they are compensated by the government,” she added, “but we are not compensated for the destruction of the sea by climate change — because the damage is invisible to those who do not enter the water.”

This damage is but one change Hong has seen during a career that spans the last half-century. She has also witnessed changes brought about by modernization.

The wetsuits now worn by diving women enable them to dive for longer periods and throughout the year, according to Hong, which seems ironic in light of the decrease in available marine product.

“We can dive more often, but we harvest much less,” she said. “However, since there’s less product on the market, we can also get a higher price for it,” she further explained.

Fishing villages and their ceremonies have increasingly become tourist sites, a phenomenon with which Hong takes no small issue.

“It isn’t the real, authentic life” of the diving women, she argues. “The ‘haenyeo school,’ the ‘haenyeo experience,’ and festivals – these are not real. Our community is dying out. But we must revive the old ways, not recreate them as tourist attractions.”

She has also witnessed a change in the sense of community shared by diving women. Where once the women dived wearing only “mulot” or “water clothes” – a specialized bathing costume – and warmed themselves in the “bulteok” or stone enclosure surrounding a central fire, talking and sharing their lives, they now go from diving in wetsuits to the use of modern seaside shower facilities, then quickly hop into their cars to return home.

“We don’t share with one another like we once did,” she sighed.

The government provides the wetsuits, as well as hospitalization costs, specialized oxygen treatments, and seaside facilities. When asked what the diving women need from the government, Hong replied, “a policy book to help explain things better to the membership, a retirement or pension plan, and no reduction in the current budget.”

She further suggested that government officials “get out of their offices and come down to the sea to see for themselves the damages brought on by pollution and climate change.”

The famed “strong Jeju woman” is most often visualized in these diving women. Taught the skills of diving by her mother and grandmother, Hong reported feeling “very proud” of her lineage as a member of this “woman’s island.”

“We hold our breath, go into cold water, and raise our kids,” she said, referring back to the proverb she has repeated throughout her life. “And we are brave, and we survive.”

A Portrait of Gangjeong Village

As seen through the eyes of a 90-year old resident

Jeju is a tale of two cities – one large, the other small – and more than 500 villages.

One such village is Gangjeong, on the southern coast of the island just west of Seogwipo City. While it bears a resemblance to other Jeju villages, it is distinct from them as well.

Most notably, Gangjeong is a place of fresh water.

Jeju, because its porous volcanic rock, has always lacked surface water. Deep aquifers provide remarkably clean mineral water with the advent of modern extraction techniques, but dry farming methods have historically been the norm.

A variety of grains were cultivated, notably the hardy buckwheat, but excluded was the prized rice of the mainland which requires standing water.

Gangjeong, home to both a stream and a system of springs, was a rare village which could grow rice. And because of this “rice culture,” as the locals call it, the village became more affluent than others.

Money came easily to them – and they didn’t need higher education as a result, according to scholar and local historian Cho Young Bae.

An old village saying reflected this: in Gangjeong “there’s no use in giving rice cake to a crying child” — a rare treat and therefore consoling to children elsewhere on the island — but too common in Gangjeong.

Gangjeong was ranked first among Jeju’s villages with fresh water. This background of rice and water served to strengthen the community bond of the village even more than that of others, according to Cho – including a general sense of superiority that came along with relative wealth.

Their pride resulted in an exaggerated self-sufficiency and segregation from other villages, Cho said, and because of the ease with which Gangjeong maintained its economy at the sacrifice of education, fewer of its residents gravitated to politics, academia, or other positions of leadership in Jeju society.

As is the nature of village – and indeed, island – life, Gangjeong also maintained a suspicion of outsiders.

Ownership and individuality are common Jeju traits, in opposition to the dominant culture of the peninsula, and evidenced perhaps even more in Gangjeong, Cho further described.

The rice harvest, like so many others on Jeju, was collectively performed to the rhythm of a labor song unique to the village. There is only one remaining Skills Holder (an official designation) of the Rice Harvest Song: 90-year-old Yoon Kyung Noh.

“I am not an educated man,” Yoon began his story. But he soon revealed the two books he published in the 1980s on Gangjeong history, displayed a variety of historic and genealogical documents, told of the class on local history that he formerly designed and delivered to area students, and ultimately shared his various awards.

“Gangjeong’s history goes back a thousand years,” he declared, adding that he only had knowledge of “the past 400.”

Another feature that has made Gangjeong unique is that of its location and topography. While other villages were situated either at the coast or inland, Gangjeong has an unusual L-shaped configuration which included areas in both.

This also made the shamanism in the village especially strong, according to Cho, as there were sacred sites – and deities – for both land and sea. Shamanic devotion began to erode a dozen or so years ago with the advent of Christianity as represented by a large church now centrally located in the village. The religion was adopted by Gangjeong residents with the same fervor they had originally applied to shamanic practice.

In the 1970s, the water of Gangjeong was dammed and re-routed to Seogwipo City, and the wealth of the village quickly declined.

Suddenly, Gangjeong found itself in difficulty. Not only had its residents not invested in education, accustomed as they were to easy wealth, but they had also not turned to tangerine farming when other villages did so.

The village then became one of the first to implement greenhouse agriculture. Ultimately, Gangjeong found a new economic balance that was more in keeping with that of its neighbors.

Yoon’s memory extends to a time without electricity or plumbing, when rice was harvested with the use of an ox and cart.

He recalled a life in which people bathed together in the village pond, rested under a tree for a cool breeze, stopped work to attend the three to five-day funeral of those who had passed, shared food together in a variety of village ceremonies, and never locked their doors.

Having been the village chief in 1952 at the age of 30, this 90-year old village elder recently became incensed when the judge in a court case disregarded him, he said without elaborating. As a result, he had a grandson compile a book which includes documents of his lifetime of accomplishment.

He recounted growing up in Gangjeong as one of seven siblings raised by his maternal grandmother and striving to survive. He moved to Japan for work at the age of 13, returning to his birthplace seven years later.

Referring to his numerous ancestors buried in the village and the care he takes to preserve his grandfather’s grave, Yoon relayed that historically, the survivors’ choice of burial site took precedent over land ownership.

“People buried their dead where they thought it best,” he said. He then mentioned his grandmother’s burial site which, along with others, was located in a coastal area which is now the construction site of a naval base.

“The central government was supposed to give compensation to the people whose ancestors were buried there,” he reported, “but in the end, because I’m not the eldest but the second son, I received nothing.”

“The present is more convenient,” he allowed, “but in the past, even with our hardship, people were nicer to and respected one another.”

Jeju, an Island of Villages

A look at village cultural life, then and now

Jeju City bears little resemblance to the village life of the island.

“Jeju-si,” seat of the island’s provincial government as well as the city’s mayoral offices, provides an urban environment of activity and opportunity, and houses the vast majority of the island’s population.

Similarities between life in the city and in the large number of villages scattered around the remainder of the land mass, however, is minimal at best.

Jeju’s culture is often proclaimed “unique” – that is, distinct from that of the mainland – but for those who largely spend their time in its capital city, that claim may seem false.

It is the village life, and the culture to be found there, that has historically defined Jeju. Over time, however, this village culture has been eroding.

Historically, each village largely maintained its own governance, a practice that remains in place today in the form of village councils, though their governing ability is minimal. Each village was self-sustaining, with agriculture and marine harvesting – fishing and diving – as mainstays.

Jeju is notorious for its harsh environment. The so-called “three abundances” – stone, wind, and women – were indicators of this hardship; both stone and wind presented grave challenges to agriculture, while the dangers of fishing in a typhoon-prone region caused many men to be lost at sea and women thus disproportionate in number.

The challenges of daily life required cooperation among village members, according to author and MBC producer Lee Jeong Heon and others, and labor was typically collective as a result. Cooperative economics, a trend in the modern global market, was the norm, and remnants can be found in the current eocheongye, or diving collectives, which are distinct to each village.

While no longer self-sustaining, the villages remain focused primarily on agriculture and marine industry, as well as on small business ownership and tourism.

Life in the village historically was strongly centered around shamanic practices, according to scholar Moon Moo Byung of Jeju Traditional Culture Institute, with several sacred sites of worship in each village and a majority of villagers as adherents. Each village had its own deities and myths. Holidays, agrarian markers, rites of passage and more were observed through communal ritual which assigned meaning to daily life.

As reported by scholar Kim Yu Jeong of Jeju Traditional Institute, villages were culturally distinct from one another as well. Life in a coastal village, where most people were located due to the nature of island life, was quite different from that of the inland or mountain villages, the latter now having disappeared.

One woman who grew up in an inland village of Chongsu and who now lives in Jeju City stated that she feels quite different from much of Jeju society, in that she has never seen the diving women in operation, known any fishermen, nor played by the shore or in the sea as a child.

Notable cultural differences could be found even within these categories. For example, according to scholar and mythologist Kim Soonie of the Cultural Heritage Administration, snake worship – remnants of which remain today – was far more prevalent in the east than in other regions. Men in the west were reluctant to marry women from the east, as it was believed that the snake deity followed the women and the western villages didn’t welcome it.

Jeju is also an island of two distinct climates, that of north and south, as all locals know. Thus the industries, and the lifestyle surrounding them, were quite different from one side of the island to the other.

The community bond existing in each village was historically strong, based upon the need for collective labor and economy and representing an extension of family structure. Indeed, as inter-village marriage was not common, each village would have represented a fairly intact gene pool.

The 20th century irrevocably altered this bond through a series of events.

First, there was the 35-year occupation by the Japanese military from 1910 to 1945, during which native identity was discouraged. This was followed by some measure of American military occupation as Korea’s post-colonial governance was being formed.

During that period, according to author Han Rimhwa, the well-known national military crackdown on Jeju’s perceived communist sympathizers resulted in villagers turning against one another in a culture of fear and distrust, wounds that have yet to fully heal.

The Korean civil war of the mid-1950s, in which the US, USSR, and China also ultimately participated, presented a further challenge to Jeju villages and all of Korea in the form of general trauma and chaos. The nearly 60-year postwar period of unresolved conflict between north and south represents an ongoing stress factor, according to scholar Ko Heakyoung and many others.

President Park Chung Hee’s economic measure known as the New Villages Movement dramatically altered village life throughout Korea; his and two subsequent military regimes, each of which identified a goal of integrating the largely distinct culture of Jeju into Korean society, further broke down the village structures of the island, as reported by scholar and local historian Cho Young Bae.

Modernization of Jeju Island has resulted in a marked migration of the populace to its cities of Seogwipo and Jeju, largely the latter as 80 percent of the island’s population lives in its capital city.

Because of industrialization as well as the emphasis on tourism, there is no longer any need for collective labor except among the diving women – an occupation that is in rapid decline.

Mass emigration of young adults to Seoul and elsewhere outside of the island has also been a common practice since the 1980s, according to Jeju Forum C representative Koh Hee Bum and Jeju Olle chairperson Suh Myung Sook, two early emigrants who have recently returned to Jeju.

While there are still more than 500 villages on Jeju, many have a population under 200, and houses stand empty. A majority of village residents today are elderly.

Jeju island has been known for the longevity of its residents since the year 1704 when the first centenarian records for the region were developed and maintained.

The province currently holds the record in Korea for longevity, as reported by The Korea Times and others. In the context of similar such “blue zones” around the world, this is presumed to be due to the nature of island life. With more than 65 residents who are presently over the age of 100, three live in Jeju City and the remainder in villages, according to Statistics Korea as reported by The Chosun Ilbo.

The central government has recently launched a “centenarian project” in preparation for Korea’s aging population, an initiative broadly covered by Korean media. This program, according to KBS and others, aims to support the “self-sufficiency and social participation of the elderly” – qualities that have always characterized the elders of Jeju Island.

Today, Jeju’s villages are mostly sleepy towns in which neighbors don’t always know one another, a common theme among multiple interviewees. Village residents have not adopted all elements of modern living, though traditions for the most part are no longer followed.

Caught between eras, they represent the very transition of Jeju society itself.

Jeju Women: Present and Future

A forum in honor of Women’s Week on Jeju

▲ Panelists discuss a Seoul model for women’s policy. Provided by the Women and Family Policy Division of Jeju Provincial Government

In honor of the nationally designated Women’s Week, the Jeju Women’s Forum was held to discuss ways to improve the lives and status of women on the island.

Sponsored by the Jeju provincial government and held at the Seolmundae Women’s Center in Shin Jeju, the forum lasted four hours and spanned three sessions on Thursday, July 7.

In the first session, a model from Seoul was presented by Son Mun Geum of the Foundation for Women and Family Policy. Citing a goal of changing Seoul into “a city where women are happy,” she explained that the focus of their project was to uncover hidden inequalities and biases against women.

Researchers at the foundation studied the average woman’s everyday life, including urban and environmental issues. The ultimate aim of the project is to develop relevant policy not only within the Ministry of Gender Equality and Family but in a variety of government sectors as well as NGOs and private corporations.

Panel discussants included Lee Sunhwa, member of the Jeju Provincial Council; Jeong Tae Geun, director of the government’s administrative division; Shin Kyung-in, president of YWCA; and Kim Mijeong of NXC.

Jeong began by stating that, while the status of women was far better today than previously in Korea, the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development rankings regarding women in the workforce and positions of leadership were very low throughout the nation. He reported that in Jeju, the percentage of women in the workforce had actually decreased in the past two years from 61.0 percent in 2008 to 60.3 percent in 2010.

He further identified three specific areas for the Jeju provincial government to focus on: The promotion of society as a whole, with an emphasis on family; public daycare; and, an increase in employment opportunities for women.

Lee, while stating that she was “envious” of the Seoul project in which so many women worked together to advance their status, also questioned whether Seoul as a benchmark was applicable to Jeju.

She stated that, while Kim Man-deok is often referred to as a role model for Jeju women, too much emphasis is placed upon her philanthropic and self-sacrificing actions and not enough on her skill and great success as a businesswoman.

“We need more CEO-mindedness” among women, she advised.

Additionally, Lee stated that Jeju islanders are not typically open to outsiders, but that it is time to include those from the mainland and even foreigners in the process of improving the status of women within society and the development of Jeju Island.

▲ Audience members listen attentively at the recent Jeju Women’s Forum. Provided by the Women and Family Policy Division of Jeju Provincial Government

For the second session, on the topic of Jeju women’s leadership, a special presentation was given by Song Kwan Bae, president of the SuSeokSil Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Policy Advisory Committee in Seoul.

Song outlined the concept of leadership and identified examples of female leaders in Korea and other nations. His presentation, while comprehensive, did not focus on or connect directly to Jeju.

The final session of the forum focused on the future direction for improvement of Jeju women’s status. Jeon Hee Gyeong, a representative of Seoul-based NGO Citizens for a Better Society, delivered the presentation.

Jeon reported that Korea as a nation ranked 104th out of 134 countries in the category of gender equality at last year’s World Economic Forum; the UNDP placed Korea 61st out of 109 countries for female leadership. Female members account for 14.7 percent of the National Assembly, well below the global average of 19.1 percent for similar political structures – a figure in itself remarkably low.

She further reported that Jeju ranks first within Korea in three economically-related categories: women’s economic involvement, the number of professional women, and the smallest economic gap between genders. The island is in 10th place out of the 16 provinces for both the percentage of female members in the provincial council and that of female administrators in the public sector.

Panel discussants for the final session included Park Juhee, a member of Jeju Provincial Council; Kang Jeong Ae, representative of Kay Angel; Hyun Jin Hee, chair of National Women’s Agricultural Organization in Jeju Provincial Government; and Im Chun Bae, professor of education at Jeju National University.

Park cited an increase in the number of Jeju women in politics and acknowledged a decrease in gender inequality. However, she reported that following the 2010 local elections, 19.1 percent of the positions were held by women – a gain of 5 percent over that of 2006, but considerably lower than most EU countries.

She cited male political dominance coupled with Confucian ideals as the cause.

A poll was recently conducted among Jeju women, according to Park, to explore what prohibits them from entering politics. “Men” was the top answer elicited from 48.9 percent of respondents, with only 10.7 percent citing a perceived lack of ability.

Park urged an increase in female representation within Jeju government, encouraging Jeju women to identify role models and to locate, educate, and support potential female leaders. She reported the establishment of a Women’s Special Committee in Jeju Provincial Council, of which Lee Sunhwa was recently made chairperson.

“Jeju holds first place in Korea for the wage gap between women and men,” Park summarized, “and is in 10th place for both women in local council and in public administration. We need to change this.”

Filed under: Articles written by Dr Hilty [published], Culture(s), Events, Health and Well-being, Jeju Island, Women's Issues ]]> http://drannehilty.wordpress.com/2011/08/03/jeju-womens-forum/feed/ 0 33.380078 126.554623 33.380078 126.554623 drannehilty 1755_2531_4745 1755_2531_490 http://drannehilty.wordpress.com/2011/07/23/female-role-model/ http://drannehilty.wordpress.com/2011/07/23/female-role-model/#comments Sat, 23 Jul 2011 02:31:20 +0000 Anne Hilty http://drannehilty.wordpress.com/?p=1092 ]]> [My article, reprinted from Jeju Weekly]

Jeju’s Female Icon of the Joseon Era

How the businesswoman, philanthropist and role model Kim Man Deok saved the island’s people

▲ National standard full-length portrait of the late Kim Man Deok.

Photo from the leaflet of Mandeokgwan. Photo courtesy Mandeokgwan

Ask any Jeju native – especially a woman – about local heroes, and there is one name that is sure to be invoked.

Kim Man Deok (1739-1812) is arguably Jeju’s most famous historic figure and remains well known throughout Korea.

Kim was born at a time during the Joseon era when Jeju was used as a place of banishment for political enemies of the state. If you offended the king, you were sent to Jeju.

For 200 of those years, Jeju natives were also not prohibited to leave the island.

Many of these exiles, almost exclusively from the Yangban, or noble class, took second wives while on Jeju. Local families – knowing that the dissident would return to Seoul once their term of exile had ended – were reportedly in favor of this practice.

The children of such unions were typically taken to the mainland by their father, on whose registry they were listed, while the mother remained on Jeju.

Kim Man Deok was born of a Jeju diving woman (haenyeo) and an exiled Yangban government official. She was thus born into nobility, though her father did not know of her existence, and she remained on Jeju with her mother.

At the age of 12, following her mother’s death, she was fostered to the owner of a gisaeng house and ultimately, she too became a gisaeng. Similar to the geisha of Japan, gisaeng were highly educated in the traditional arts and served as entertainers, often, though not always including sexual favors for government officials and nobility.

By the age of 22, Kim was able to extract herself from the profession, a highly unusual act, by successfully petitioning the Jeju government to remove her name from the gisaeng register – which placed one among the lowest rank in society – on the basis of her noble paternal line.

She became a merchant, actively trading goods between Jeju and peninsular Korea.

Kim was quite talented at her new-found profession. As a result of her gisaeng years, she was well-connected in Jeju government and society, a factor which she utilized to her advantage.

At this time in Korean history, great social and economic changes resulted in a notable increase of women in business. Kim was one of only two, however, recorded to have achieved great wealth.

Kim never married. Her history as a gisaeng rendered her ineligible for marriage within Korea’s Confucian society.

Her status as a single woman placed her on the margin of society, a position which she courageously challenged in her career as a merchant.

By the age of 50, Kim was one of the wealthiest people on Jeju.

In 1794, a famine struck the island. Extreme weather conditions had destroyed crops and, coupled with other social factors, the people were starving. Ultimately, one-third of Jeju’s population died during this time.

Kim, in a great gesture of sympathy for her people, sold all of her assets. After giving 10 percent to her relatives, she donated the remainder to the inhabitants of Jeju for the importation of food.

There is no way to calculate the number of lives she saved with her philanthropic and heartfelt efforts.

King Jeongjo, in recognition of her extraordinary contribution, offered to reward her. Though she could have asked for material goods or an elevated position in society, Kim instead made only one request.

She wanted to be able to leave Jeju despite the ban, in order that she might tour the king’s palace in Seoul and the 12,000 peaks of Geumgang Mountain to the east.

Her request was granted.

Additionally, the king awarded her a government post and accompanying residence in Seoul. She served her term and then returned to Jeju.

Kim was initially buried in Hwabuk-dong. In 1977, due to development in that region, her grave was moved upon the agreement of Jeju citizens and is presently located on Sarabong, the hill overlooking the sea in Geonip-dong, Jeju City.

She is buried now on the grounds of Mochung temple, where a memorial was dedicated to her in 1978.

Her grave is a site of pilgrimage for countless Korean women.

Many artists, writers, and scholars have created works in praise of Kim, in a tradition which began while she was still alive and continues to this day.

Since 1980, an annual commemoration for philanthropy or community service has been awarded in her name at the Tamna Cultural Festival.

In 2003, a commemoration committee was created which performs beneficent acts in her name.

According to scholar Moon Soon Deok of the Jeju Development Institute, a new committee was formed earlier this year to determine how best to further memorialize Kim’s contribution to Jeju society.

While a museum and other physical tributes are being discussed, it has also been suggested that a scholarship in her name be established at Jeju National University for young female business students.

In June of 2009 Korea issued the 50,000 won banknote which depicts the image of Shin Saimdang, a 16th century artist and mother of scholar Yi I, whose image appears on the 5,000 won banknote. It is the first depiction of a female on Korean currency.

Kim Kyung-ai, scholar of women’s studies at Dongduk University in Seoul, spearheaded the ultimately unsuccessful campaign to depict Kim Man Deok’s image on the banknote instead.

“She was a successful businesswoman, the first female CEO, and also a remarkable philanthropist who literally saved her people,” Dr. Kim said. “I still feel that she would have been the best choice [for the banknote].”

Kim Man Deok has served as an early model of feminism for the women’s movement of Korea. She lived her life with courage, entering areas of society and commerce in ways that women had not previously done.

She achieved remarkable success in business and accumulated great wealth – only to give it all away in a gesture of compassion at a time of great need for her people.

She remains a model for all – not just in Korea, but around the world.

(Yonhap Feature) Strong Jeju women: yesterday and today

JEJU ISLAND, South Korea, July 1 (Yonhap) — To many Koreans, Jeju is known as an island of three abundances — wind, rock and women. That was highlighted again when the U.S. ambassador recently visited the tourist island and picked abalones and other marine life in the surrounding sea with local diving women, commonly called “jamnyeo,” or “haenyeo.”

During the trip, Ambassador Kathleen Stephens lauded the Jeju women as a living symbol of the strength of Korean women that is a valuable part of the country’s history and future.

In peninsular Korea, the “strong woman” of Jeju is often glorified by feminists as an example of female leadership and gender equality. To others, the description gives the erroneous impression that women are everywhere on Jeju and the island is a man’s paradise.

U.S. Ambassador to Seoul Kathleen Stephens (L) pose with a woman diver at Jeju Island on June 23. The female divers are one of the icons of South Korea’s southernmost island. (Yonhap file photo)

One would do well to remember that these three aspects of Jeju are meant to be seen in the clear light of hardship. The windy climate and rocky soil have made farming — and survival — in this agrarian community difficult at best, the epitome of Jeju’s legendary struggle with the natural elements.

The disproportionate number of women on Jeju over the centuries is largely a reflection of the lack of men. Men died at sea in typhoons and other storms, were killed or exiled first by Mongolian and then Japanese overlords, and were massacred by the armed forces of the national government in the 1948 “Uprising.”

Another aspect of the amazon-like image of Jeju women is one of economic independence and leadership, especially among the jamnyeo or haenyeo. While it’s true that women in this profession have formed cooperatives with some measure of internal governance, they have also been economically exploited by various regents, governments, and occupiers throughout time.

Many diving women work well into their elder years

(Photo courtesy of Brenda Paik Sunoo, author and photojournalist of “Moon Tides”)

In the deepest cultural underpinnings, Jeju’s mythology as preserved by oral tradition, this island of “18,000 gods” in fact has many goddesses, according to local mythologist and Cultural Heritage Administration representative Kim Soonie. At its core, the creation myth is one of a grandmother goddess, Seolmundae Halmang, and numerous other female deities are also worshiped even today or revered as tradition.

There’s Jacheongbi, goddess of both love and agriculture, while Gameunjang Agi, goddess of wisdom, determines fate, destiny, and fortune.

Jowang Halmang is the kitchen or hearth goddess, presiding over family health. Samseung Halmang generally manages the lives of humans, in particular governing pregnancy and childbirth.

Gopang Halmang, goddess of prosperity, rules the granary, while Youngdeung Halmang, also ruler of grain, primarily governs the sea and related professions.

In the local dialect, “halmang” means grandmother, and it’s easy to see that key female deities in the Jeju pantheon are benevolent grandmotherly archetypes.

Jeju has also had several remarkable women in its history.

The most widely known of these is Kim Man-deok (1739-1812), the first female merchant in Korea and a philanthropist who donated a majority of her profit to the people of Jeju in order to save them from starvation during a time of famine. Her image was considered but ultimately rejected for the 50,000 won Korean bank note, and her grave in Jeju has become a pilgrimage site for many women. A government committee has been formed to determine a memorial in her name.

Jeju women have recently been given the designation of “Intangible Cultural Asset” by the Cultural Heritage Administration of Korea in no fewer than 11 categories, four in arts and crafts and seven in others.

They are famed for their strong will, creative and independent spirit, family support, community ties, cooperative labor, and in general, as a powerful force within Jeju society. In Confucian Korea, however, even the women of Jeju have remained in secondary social status.

The status of Jeju women today is still quite mixed.

Jeju’s women have consistently fought against patriarchal prejudices and discrimination. Yet outside of the diving women’s economic cooperatives or the school system, women have rarely held positions of leadership in Jeju society. This, however, is changing.

Subsequent to its designation as a Special Self-Governing Region in 2006, Jeju Provincial Government developed a mandate by which five women are appointed to positions in the Provincial Council. No female candidate has ever won a local election, however, though some have recently run strong campaigns and there is an expectation that women will be elected to office in the near future.

Council member Lee Sun-hwa, a longtime advocate for women’s rights on Jeju and the island’s first female producer with a lengthy career at broadcaster MBC, has recently proposed a Women’s Special Committee in Council.

She is also past president of the Jeju chapter of Business and Professional Women, an international organization. A group of 12 professional women from Jeju traveled to Helsinki last month for BPW’s international congress, the next of which will be hosted on Jeju Island in 2014.

“Some policies in keeping with gender equality have been reversed,” laments Women’s Association president Lee Gyeong-seon. “For example, in 2004 the position in the provincial government for a ‘women’s policy director’ was eliminated.”

A new Jeju Women Governance Forum is in development and will be launched on July 22, according to its general secretary, Im Ae-duk. “This structure, the first of its kind, will give women a stronger voice in the governance of Jeju, focusing in particular on women’s issues,” Im said.

Rates for divorce, domestic violence, prostitution, and rape remain comparatively high on Jeju, however — the divorce rate the highest in Korea.

It must be noted that a primary reason for the high divorce rate is the economic independence of many women, which enables them to more freely choose a return to unmarried life. On Jeju, women and men also inherit equally from their parents, a remarkable distinction from the mainland.

A major education program of the YWCA, according to its new president, Shin Kyung-in, is for the purpose of preventing sexual and other violence against women.

“Education in this area is needed from the age of 4,” Shin said, “as children are often victims.” She is passionate about this and has plans for related programs in marriage preparation and communication skills.

“Poverty is a big problem among a percentage of Jeju women,” Lee Gyeong-seon also mentioned. “We haven’t yet figured out how to adequately address this,” she confessed, while mentioning micro-credit loan programs for single and divorced mothers as well as highlighting the need to increase public daycare centers.

The YWCA provides an afterschool program for low-income families, according to Shin.

Representatives at all four primary women’s organizations report that the social status of women on Jeju remains low, especially in areas related to business — romanticized haenyeo portrayals of the diving women aside.

“The goal is to develop a society on Jeju in which women are not afraid of change, and gender equality is achieved through education,” according to Kim Yeong-soon, assistant director of the Seolmundae Women’s Center.

“My goal for Jeju’s women is to achieve a society that doesn’t need an organization like mine,” echoed Kim Hyo-seon, representative for Jeju Association for Women’s Rights.

(Photo courtesy of Brenda Paik Sunoo)