James Hawthorne: A Fish Out of Water

The history of Korea enraged me. I was sitting in my Korean history class, learning about the formation of Korea, from the Goguryo to Park Chung-hee, and my most vivid memory is restlessly twitching in my chair, seething. I didn’t know at the time why I was mad; these were bygone historical facts, not even ones relavent to me, yet I couldn’t shake the anger off. It finally dawned on me after spending more time in Korea. It’s weak. Korea’s history is one of suppression, subjugation, and servitude. From its very inception, Korea has always acknowledged that it plays second fiddle: to China, to the West, to the world, and for some reason, I couldn’t handle that. How could a country exist like that? How can these people walk around smiling, laughing, enjoying their lives contently? And even more pressingly, why do I care?

My first days in Korea were not exactly high points in my life. The simple things that you think about turned out to be the most jarring things to get used to. I had never used public transportation, everything was written in Korean, and you could walk for a mile down the street and find nobody that looks remotely like you. This sentiment applies to the people as well. The truth was, I had no idea how to talk to Koreans. I don’t mean here that I didn’t speak the language, but that all of the subtle rules and predilections that existed in the Korean culture were unknown to me. Some people found my strange habits endearing, some concerning: my propensity to wander by myself, my friendly and cavalier attitude to complete strangers, my loud voice. My European friends would say the same thing to me; I became the poster boy of America. My room was decked out in various off-brand American flag stuff, the more inaccurate the better. But I did not come to Korea to be an American. I came to learn about Korea and to try and understand their life and their point of view. The truth is, though, at the time I wasn’t ready to face that reality.

After the introductory weeks, I spent a lot of my time hanging around other students. I joined a volunteer group called Swing, and several other clubs for foreigners like K-Focus. Having access to these events where I got to actually sit down and talk not just with Koreans, but people from Germany, Britain, Spain, the Netherlands, China, was one of the greatest tools I had during my time abroad. I had also learned some of social faux pas that I had been making since my arrival, and I did my best to correct my behavior. I spent a lot more time listening then I did talking. I found out over many a beer that most of Europe is concerned about climate change, way more so than most Americans. I discovered that Korea was beginning to not trust America, as our actions toward the UN and NATO did nothing to abate their concerns. It’s one thing to talk politics in a room full of Americans, but it’s an entirely different beast in a global room. Maybe out weekend pub was not a UN Council meeting, but it’s the closest I’ve gotten so far, and it really challenged my beliefs, both personally and academically.

Of course, being in Korea, I wanted to learn as much as I could about Korea and Koreans. One of my most memorable moments was spending dinner at Junho’s place. I was sitting in a room with Junho, a Korean friend, and Nick, a Brazilian who had been living in Korea for a couple of years. We were just shooting the breeze, talking about this, that and the other, when we talked about going out that weekend. Junho said he couldn’t and one thing lead to another until I blurted out “If it was me, I would walk right up and say I am going, if they don’t like it, that’s their problem at this point.” Junho and Nick burst out laughing, and Junho finally through gasps of air said “James, it’s a good thing you aren’t Korean.” I laughed, but inside, I felt upset. Why wouldn’t it be good if I was Korean? Did I say something that bad? I was just speaking my mind; isn’t that what you are supposed to do? It took some self-reflection, but it finally dawned on me. All this time I spent in Korea, all this work I put to get myself out there and try new things, and I hadn’t taken the time to learn. I had continued acting the way I always acted, and deep down I believed this to be the way things “ought” to be. I never took the time to understand that as long as I was in Korea, and talking with Koreans, I needed to humble myself, and not just show an acknowledgement of their way of life but a respect. It was a punch in the gut, but it was necessary for me to realize that I had been getting away with what I had been doing because I was “foreign”, and until I changed, I would always be “foreign”.  

It took a long time, but my experiences did finally teach me the truth that I had been overlooking this entire time. Korea is not weak, it is humble. A country so rich in culture, beauty, and hospitality, so content that it doesn’t feel the need to constantly struggle and antagonize. Korea was a world in harmony, a place of quiet strength. I had let my own narrow point of view and chauvinism blind me to what should have been an experience to appreciate a culture so different from my own. I think it’s important in academics to challenge our beliefs and our assumptions; that’s what college is for. To gather people with a passion for their field to learn, to strive to be better, and to challenge one another so that we can all grow smarter and more productive. It’s amazing how much your environment can affect who you are. I’ve heard it described “how does a fish explain water?”, or how does one who lives in something so self-evident explain what they have never considered? Being in Korea, being challenged in that way, having to face my own beliefs, I am glad to have been a fish out of water.

James is a senior Political Science major with minors in Pre-Law and International Relations, hoping to go into the foreign service. His breakaway was studying abroad in Daegu, South Korea at Kyungpook National University.