Am I Still Korean?

I mean technically, I no longer have Korean citizenship.

I can never tell if I am going overboard when I exercise my reluctance to be “Korean”. Out of the many I have met with similar backgrounds, whilst living across the great Pacific, a great bulk have been very aware of their Korean backgrounds and yearned to return to a place that, to them, was far more familiar. However, at the same time, some of my Korean – or to expand this to a broader spectrum, Asian-Canadian – friends were more or less on my wavelength, dreading the thought of coming into contact, in Canada or elsewhere, with the Asian culture that they were no longer a part of.

My, conflict with myself derives from the realization that my rebellious nature towards accepting my Korean roots is essentially some sort of existential angst. But that is not to exclude the fact that my formative years were spent in the west, not the east. Insert snarky joke about the rising sun. Of course I naturally conform with western traditions…that is what I grew up with to a certain degree. But during my infancy, I also lived in Korea until I was five. I remember taking the subway in Seoul with my grandpa and enjoying the hell out of it.
But this conflict, despite not being resolved, leads to another problem. I find myself to be hypercritical of a great deal of Korean related, for lack of a better word at the moment, things. I find so many things to be ridiculous. The idea that kids go to tutors until 10PM is absolutely ridiculous; the fact that Koreans thought the solution to a horrendous appearance in the World Cup was to try harder is beyond insane (how about you change the system in which you coach the players? Oh no? You think trying harder is all you need to be concerned about? Ok, fine. Don’t make critical decisions); and it boggles my mind that plastic surgery is so deeply integrated into Korean culture.

Before, I didn’t think this level of criticism was problematic, but then I realized I was not being fair. A lot of these things are bad, but they are a result of years of cultural development. But that is as empathetic as I will get.

There is an article called About Face by the New Yorker. It covers the cultural importance of plastic surgery in Korea. It talks about the numerous ads in the Gangnam subway stations, showcasing before and after pictures of girls who went through plastic surgery. But it also introduces many other aspects that I did not know about plastic surgery or in a broader sense, Korea’s obsession with trends and the sense of a collective “I”. Apparently, in the midst of the Korean War, American surgeons offered plastic surgery operations to Korean civilians who were injured amidst the combat. Apparently this was how plastic surgery got introduced to South Korea. Do I resent America for bringing in something that I find absolutely disgusting now? No. Of course not. At that moment, although there were cosmetic benefits, it was to help an individual not suffer to exceptional degrees.

Nowadays, as the article mentions, there is a show in Korea that brings out individuals who suffer disfigurement or other ailments that cause their faces to be unpleasant. Surgeons then offer a free cosmetic makeover and they bring out the new and beautiful person out to the cheer and applause of the crowd.

Can I really be disgusted by something like that? I am not sure. Some of these people do deserve something like this, and plastic surgery certainly isn’t cheap. If it makes them happy, I guess there is nothing to really be disgusted by.

But then comes the scenario of an individual who looks fine to begin with, and gets plastic surgery to look more like a celebrity that either they admire, or is incredibly popular with the vast majority of the Korean population. That…is disgusting. That this is something that is encouraged, that there are parents in Korea who tell their daughters or sons that they would look more handsome if they got a nose job. What the fuck people. Seriously, what the fuck.

I think for the most the part, there is an inherent natural aesthetic beauty to a face, but once you start mucking around with the parts, the face becomes visibly alienated, even if the surgeon is Michelangelo with the knife. It really troubles me to see that. Or the numerous bandaged women who go walking around in broad daylight, stopping to get as many trendy shirts and shoes as possible, or the young couples that are entering shopping malls whose average price for a shirt is over $150. I am too judgmental, I know. I could pick apart myself and my family and friends could probably point out a hundred other flaws that I was too ashamed to admit. But Damn.

However, despite all this, a part of me still wants to be a part of Korea. I want to retain some semblance of a connection with the country I was born in. I can’t lose that part of me completely, but I am afraid I already have.

Here is a link to the article.

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/03/23/about-face