Korean Yoga Class

It's pretty easy to find yoga classes in English, aimed at foreigners in Daegu. However, there's a gym just a block away that I joined last year which has yoga every night at 7, and is super convenient for me. So, with rain all day and the Ultimate Frisbee League season I signed up for approaching quickly, and in the wake of all the burritos I'm carrying around in my butt cheeks, belly and thighs after three weeks in Texas, I decided to renew my gym membership and let the tiny bodybuilders in tiny lumo shirts talk me into going to yoga as well.

I was a member of the gym last year until I ran into my elderly landlady in the shower and was too mortified to go back (and someone accidentally 'stole' my shampoo, which was identical to hers) so I know how things generally work. This time I got a locker, rather than store my shampoos etc with the plebs. But I'd never joined yoga or been there while they were having a class so I didn't really know what to expect. Maybe I expected it to be like the yoga videos I watch and try to copy on youtube, like the wonderful series by Adriene Mishler. You know, some sun salutations, a couple of twists, maybe a bunch of plank variations... the usual stuff.

My gym has uniforms that you're expected to wear while working out, but yoga in shorts doesn't appeal to me that much. So I wore my usual semi-stretchy sweatpants and a big t-shirt and headed off to the gym. It's my first time; I get a 'gimme' to check out what everyone else does and copy them next time. Turns out they just wear yoga pants under the uniform. *shrug*

I was the first person there (little Miss Over-eager) so the bodybuilder Dudes introduced me to the most beautiful woman I've ever seen; she was the instructor. And she didn't speak a word of English beyond "one, two, three", "inhale/exhale" and "changee". But that's all you really need...Right? I figured I could watch her and she'd correct me if I was totally off. Today, I taught her "hips", "core" and "pelvis". Nevertheless, we managed to communicate, and I managed to follow the class. Well, I could follow what I was supposed to be doing.

Doing it, on the other hand, was another question.

HOLY COW, Yoga lady! There was not a single sun salutation or plank, but I got one hell of a workout instead. Of course, I'm surrounded by lithe, limber little Korean fairy-elves... and one very elastic ajumma. And there I am, bigger than three of the Tinkerbells put together, awkward and stiff and jetlagged and with no muscles in my stomach whatsoever. At one point I figured out she was trying to tell me to lift my legs 90 degrees off the ground BEHIND me using only my hamstrings... I grunted "Opseoyeo" (I ain't got none!) and the class giggled. She managed to get the forms across to me by pushing and pulling my bits and helping me, and I think I'll be able to do it on my own next time, perhaps. I felt a bit babied but that's ok. She is a good teacher.

Anyway, yoga is not a competition. It's about doing what you can and getting a little better each time. I'm good at some things and not at others, and I'll get better. And I wasn't the first person to fall over. I may not be able to do the splits but I can hold an ajumma squat on my tippy-toes with my hands stretched above my head for hours, thank you very much.

So I was ungainly, wheezing, red-faced and constantly going in the wrong direction. Who cares? I had fun, I feel good, and I think this is definitely something I can work into the daily routine I haven't started yet.

Next adventure: working with a tiny bodybuilder personal trainer

And then something like this happens

Today I got a nice surprise message from a colleague on cool messenger. Completely out of the blue - I did all my complaining in that last blog post and haven't said a thing about it at work. My main CT said that she and this teacher had been talking about it today. Anyway, here it goes. I'm posting it here so I can look back and remind myself of good things from time to time.


You know? You're one of the best native teachers I've ever met.
So you've been taken over more work than other NETs have.

We Korean English teachers need native speakers who have much knowledge like you.

We think you're the best in proofreading.

We've seen many of native speakers don't know grammar exactly. 

If we have to employ one teacher between you and another NET, we'll choose you. And if you need recommendation letters when you get a job in other country, we'll give you the most score.

We know you have more work than other NETs do.

But could you help our work second semester in the way you did this semester?

We are really sorry that you do more work than other NETs do. But we put more value on you. 

But if we need your help and your work hours are over 22 h average a week for which native speakers are supposed to work, we won't give you work.

We always appreciate your help.

That feels good.

Yes, I can use chopsticks... And ride the bus... And eat spicy food.

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

BY DEBITO ARUDOU

·         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. 

That time my students talked me into losing 5kg in a week

Korea is known for having ridiculous and un-achievable beauty standards, well, at least for those of us unwilling to consider plastic surgery. Deva Lee wrote a brilliant post about it. Read it here: Teacher Small Face. Usually I ignore it and waddle along the street, aware that I may be the fattest and worst dressed person standing at the intersection. My jeans have holes in them; I can't find them in my size here. The jeans my mom sent me are too small to go past my knees. I have become fat in Korea. But it's never really bothered me. I'm comfortable in my skin... More or less.

But then I started indulging in a bit too much jjimdalk. I was hitting the "I'm over Korea, and all this crap" phase and I comfort ate like it was going out of fashion. I put on about 10kg in the space of a month or two. Suddenly I was panicking every morning because none of my clothes fit and I had no hope of buying more. I hid myself under flowy cardigans and my biggest, baggiest jeans. I felt ugly.

I started doing little things here and there. I attempted a daily yoga challenge and made it halfway through the month before losing interest. I ate more jjimdalk.

Then, last week Wednesday, I maneuvered my hulking frame into my 3rd grade middle school girls classroom. The lesson after lunch on a Wednesday. My coma-patients. These girls have been the least interested, least willing to participate bunch I've ever taught. I've tried everything - pop culture references, being a performing monkey, games that are hits with everyone else, but I get nothing. So I was completely shocked when, seconds after my arrival, a girl mustered up the courage to speak to me.

"Katie teacher," she said angelically, "Why don't you lose some weight?"

Oh my god HER ENGLISH WAS PERFECT! was my initial reaction, followed by OH GOD has it gotten that bad? It had I was the heaviest I've ever been in my life, with a pot belly and so much junk in my trunk it looked like I was moving house. My seams were splitting and I realised when I looked in the mirror that my chin had started to disappear into my neck. So they had a point.

At first I stood there, gobsmacked. Then I said, "Actually, that's a bit rude in my culture," and I joked about how references to a woman's weight are likely to end violently. We laughed together and the tension was eased. The moment of panic passed. And I saw the opportunity to hold onto this moment and cement it and take one step closer to bonding with these girls who had closed themselves off to me for so long.

I raised my hand, and made a solemn promise. "I swear to lose 5 kilograms by next week." They gasped, and applauded.

Why did I pick that number? Well, most Korean women weigh about 55-75kg. They believe the ideal weight is 55kg (regardless of your height, body type, bone structure...). So 5kg is roughly 11% of your bodyweight, if you're Korean.

I am not Korean. I weighed a lot more than that, and I knew from experience that when you start losing weight, it comes off really fast in the beginning. Most of that is water weight. So 5kg was an achievable number for me, while being impressive for them. And it's a nice, round number, and a good place to start.

After class, I walked back to my office and took a deep breath. I'd made a public promise and I had to keep it. It was time to get serious. I re-activated my Sparkpeople account and started logging my food and fitness. I hid the instant coffee sachets and switched to green tea. I developed a strategy for dealing with cafeteria food.

An average meal at my school looks like this:

The top three are banchan, with kimchi on the far right. In this case it's mul kimchi, but usually it's standard spicy kimchi. In the bottom two bits, there's soup and rice. So I decided to eat on a pattern. I alternate banchan and soup, and after two or three rotations through those, I can have a little bit of rice. This way I fill up on soup and veggies without triggering mass panic among the Koreans by bringing my own food or not eating any rice at all. So far it's working. Focusing on how I eat is also making me more conscious of how much I eat and how fast I eat; both are things I've been needing to change.

Usually I sit at home, eating jjimdalk while watching TV. I look down and the food's all gone, and suddenly I'm stuffed. By focusing on my food, I pick up on the signals of fullness sooner.

My mom told me about a new diet that's all the rage; similar to the paleo thing. I dunno. That sort of extremism has never appealed to me. The only detox diet I've ever tried ended up with me puking blood, so no more of that. I'm sticking with the Sparkpeople method - moderation, awareness and all-round improvement of habits, nutrition and fitness. It's not just food; I am also trying to go to bed earlier, workout more, and drink more water.

I did some long bike rides in the evenings after school (and I now fully understand why Korean cyclists mummify themselves. In the language of gnats, they call me the Oncoming Splat). I also did some hiking, some geocaching, some zombie running, some bodyweight reps, some Qi Gong to see what it was like... I've been trying different things. Anything that appeals to me. As long as it gets me moving for at least 30 minutes a day, it's good. I may invest in a hula hoop, or use the huge ones in the parks, because that's fun too.

I worked hard and in the end I did it. Yesterday, I walked into the class and announced that I had lost exactly 5kg. I kept my promise. And then I told them that I'd keep working on it, but that from now on I'm going to stick to a healthier rate of loss, because 5kg a week is not maintainable. My mood has improved, I'm looking better, my chin is back from it's holiday into my neck, and I don't feel like I'm carrying all my emotions in a balloon around my stomach. It's fun, and I did it without spending a whole lot of money on a gym membership or supplements.

My friend Kaleena posted a very supportive comment about not letting their ideals mess with my head, and she's right. It made me question why I'd done this. It wasn't just about the number. I wanted to get healthy again. I wanted to feel happier. I wanted to bond with my students. Making a big public promise was the most motivational factor in doing this, but from now on it's private, it's about me, and it's up to me to keep going. I started off at a sprint, but now it's time to settle into a jog and cover the distance.

Here are links to some of the websites, apps and programs that helped me. Most of them are free:

Zombies 5k
Do You Yoga Daily Challenge
Sparkpeople
Fitocracy
Neila Rey's Bodyweight Workouts
Geocaching