This article has been doing the rounds, often tagged with "Substitute "Korea" and it's the same".
So I went through it and did that. Here you go:
Yes,
I can use chopsticks: the everyday ‘microaggressions’ that grind us down
·
MAY 1, 2012
Have you ever noticed how many interpersonal interactions in Korea
are like “speed dates” of set questions?
For example, the taxi drivers who have the odd fascination about
where you’re from, whether you’re married, how much you like Korea, and how
hard you think the Korean language is?
The barkeeps and clientele who try to slot you into their
hackneyed preconceptions of some country and nationality, what you can and
cannot eat, and (as things get drunker) how much you eNKoy having physical
liaisons with Koreans?
The neighbors who have a white-hot curiosity about how
differently you raise your kids, what you fight with your spouse about, and how
much you like Korea — regardless of how many years you’ve been interacting?
In the beginning, these were dismissible as just acts of awkward
friendliness by people who didn’t know how else to approach you. It at least
made you really good in certain areas of Korean conversation.
But after years of repeat games, boredom sets in, and you begin
to realize two things: 1) that you can sleepwalk through most conversations,
and 2) that, if you stay awake, you see there is a larger issue at play here:
social control — something increasingly recognized by social psychologists as
“microaggressions.”
Microagressions, particularly those of a racialized nature, are,
according to Dr. Derald Wing Sue in Psychology Today (Oct. 5, 2010), “the
brief and everyday slights, insults, indignities, and denigrating messages sent
to (visible minorities) by well-intentioned (members of an ethnic majority in a
society) who are unaware of the hidden messages being communicated.”
They include, in Korea’s case, verbal cues (such as “You speak
such good Korean!” — after saying only a sentence or two — or “How long will
you be in Korea?” regardless of whether a non-Korean (NK) might have lived the
preponderance of their life here), nonverbal cues (people espying NK and
clutching their purse more tightly, or leaving the only empty train seat next
to them), or environmental cues (media caricatures of NK with exaggerated noses
or excessive skin coloration, McDonald’s “Mr.
James” mascot (JBC, Sept. 1, 2009)).
Usually these are unconscious acts grounded in established
discourses of interactions. Nobody “means” to make you feel alienated,
different, out of place, or stereotyped.
But microaggressions are also subtle societal self-enforcement
mechanisms to put people “in their place.” For NK, that “place” is usually the
submissive status of “visitor” or “guest,” with the Korean questioner assuming
the dominant position of “host” or “cultural representative of all Korea.”
It’s a powerful analytical tool. Now we have a word to describe
why it gets discomfiting when people keep asking if you can use chopsticks (the
assumption being that manual dexterity is linked to phenotype), or if you can
eat kimchi (same with taste buds), or if you’ll be going “home”
soon (meaning Korea is just a temporary stop in your life and you don’t belong
here). It can even help you realize why it’s so difficult for the NK
long-termer to become a seonbae in
the workplace (since NK subordination is so constant and renewed in daily
interaction that it becomes normalized).
Now let’s consider microaggression’s effects. Dr. Sue’s research
suggests that subtle “microinsults and microinvalidations are potentially more
harmful (than overt, conscious acts of racism) because of their invisibility,
which puts (visible minorities) in a psychological bind.”
For example, indicate that you dislike being treated this way
and the aggressor will be confused; after all, the latter meant no harm, so
therefore the NK must just be overly “sensitive” — and therefore also
“troublesome” to deal with. Resistance is not futile; it is in fact
counterproductive.
Yet do nothing and research suggests that “aggressees” become psychologically
drained over time by having to constantly question the validity of their
position and devote energy to dealing with this normalized (and after a while,
predictable) “othering” that nobody else (except — shudder — the alienated NK
barflies) seems to understand.
So in come the coping strategies. Some long-termers cultivate a
circle of close friends (hopefully Korean, but rarely so: JBC, Aug. 2, 2011),
others just become hermits and keep to themselves. But those are temporary
solutions. Sooner or later you have to take a taxi, deal with a restaurateur,
have words with your neighbors.
And then, like it does for the wangttas (who
are also victims of other strains of microaggression), you begin to dread
interacting with the outside world.
Therein lies the rub: Microaggressions have such power because
they are invisible, the result of hegemonic social shorthand that sees people
only at face value. But your being unable to protest them without coming off as
paranoid means that the aggressor will never see that what they say might be
taken as prejudiced or discriminatory.
The power of microaggression is perhaps a reason why activists
like me occasion such venomous and obsessive criticism, even online stalkers.
I happen to fight the “big fights” (such as “Korean Only” signs
and rules, official propaganda about foreign crime). But I also fight
microaggressions (the racist word “waygookin,” the oddly destructive
platitude of “fighting!,” the effects of NK being addressed by name
without a “ssi” attached), because after decades of experience I know
where they lead to: perpetual subordinate status.
Alas, my actions to stem or deter this just make me look
alarmist, reactionary and paranoid in the eyes of the critics (especially the NK
ones, who seem to think I’m somehow “spoiling” Korea for them), either because
they haven’t experienced these microaggressions for themselves, or because they
live in denial.
“Know how to pick your battles,” some decry. Fortunately, the
battle is partially won, because now this dynamic of low-level aggression and
“othering” is less invisible. We finally have a word in the English language
(hopefully someday in Korean too) to identify it, and social scientists
endeavoring to quantify it.
Someday we just might be able to empower ourselves away from our
own microaggressive self-policing of preconception and prejudice. And we will
gain the appropriate respect for those brave enough to stand up to it. And at
least the daily questions might become less boring!
Why did I do this? Well, lately I've been particularly feeling the pressure of being different, and being judged according to my race and nationality (when they can remember that I'm not South American). It's making me miserable, and it's turned a job I once loved into one I dread going to and struggle to get out of bed for. It's made me less inclined to explore the country I moved to, choosing instead to hide in my apartment, ordering food through yogiyo and praying that I won't get a phone call from the restaurant.
I spent months learning Korean and used to be excited about it, but these days I hardly even try because, quite frankly, I don't want to talk to you. I made a pact to stop being negative about Korea, and it's a struggle, and I'm probably breaking it now with this post. I loved this country. I was so excited to be here. But now I'm at the point where I'd rather move to grease-eatin', gun-shootin', gay-bashin' America than live another year earning good money at a relatively easy and fulfilling job in Korea.
I'm tired of being tarred with the same brush as people who made mistakes. I'm tired of people being surprised that I was able to use public transport... even though I'd been living here, and using it, for over a year. I'm tired of having 20-minute lectures over and over again about work ethic based on the mistakes made by other foreigners, when I've worked as hard as I can, gone beyond what they've asked me to do, and haven't taken a single sick day this year. I'm tired of being warned that something labelled "mepke" on the menu is spicy - that's why I chose it! I'm even tired of adorable little children shouting "Waygookin!" when they see me, even though they don't know the effect it has.
Meat carefully separated on a barbecue grill to avoid sauce-tainted stuff touching the celiac's portion gets suddenly mixed by "helpful" waiters who leap in to cook your food for you. And every single meal becomes a "How do you like Korean food?" conversation, and "Oh, she eats well" or "You can use chopsticks."
Despite all the kindness that people have shown me - the stranger who took me to a doctor on my first weekend in Daegu, my jjimdalk guy who gave me corn just because, the student who told me she wanted me to come to class early so she could have more time to practice English, the ajummas who showed me the ropes at the jjimjilbang and shared their tea with me, and the many other small acts of generosity and kindness shown to me almost every day, this feeling of otherness and inferiority has worn me down to breaking point.
Coming from SA, where we spend a lot of time talking about race and othering, this hit home. Here in Korea my white social privelege has been stripped away and I can understand the effect of these kinds of micro-aggressive terms used on people of other races in other countries. "Oh, you speak such good English..." "What kind of Asian are you?" and "Your people..." I've come to experience first-hand the psychological toll that it takes to be told you're not as good as everyone else (or to have people react with surprise when you are). And I have huge respect for people who manage to stick it out and get through day after day of living like this.
But I'm not as strong as them. I don't think I can do it for another year. I'm sorry, Korea. I think we need to break up.
