Whispers Through Closed Lips, a Voice Unheard: A Case Study of Kim (Paeng) Yu Tae, Woman of the 20th Century

Abstract

Since the late 19th century, the historical and cultural context of East Asia has been one of continuous change. As Western encounters and intervention gradually increased, the traditionally Confucian world order was confronted by Western power and values. In Korea, since it was forced to emerge from its Sino-centric world context through such unequal treaties as the 1876 Treat of Kanghwa with Japan and the 1882 Shufeldt Treaty with the United States, foreign involvement has been almost constant. Within the next century, Korea would experience annexation by Japan, occupation by Soviet and American forces, physical division by foreign powers, an externally fueled civil war, and continued hopes for reunification. Indeed, from such a distant perspective, it is often difficult to remember that what is such colorful history, mere words of recollection in black and white, was and is the reality of countless individuals. Surely, Japan, the United States, the Soviet Union, China, and Korea were major players within Korean history, yet history does not consist solely of general conceptions of nation and international diplomacy. Does not the individual story comprise the entity which we so carelessly and generally call Korea or Japan or China? Here, we plunge into the midst of millions of individuals, their lives, their experiences, and encounter a single soul — that of Kim Yu Tae. She is a Korean woman who immigrated to America in 1976. She resides today in Newport News, Virginia, thousands of miles away from the land which she once called home. This displaced and sometimes sorrowful soul drifts along like so many others, jaded by vast experiences that so few can understand, experiences that so many live. What would one assume of this woman of sixty-nine years as she travels to the nearest Korean market to rent Korean soap operas on DVD and purchase ingredients for the Korean dinner that she creates daily? Smiling politely at acquaintances she meets there, modestly brushing off compliments of her still youthful visage. Is she but dejected evidence of a colorless past, unfit for modern society and an American lifestyle? Her story is a voice unheard. She is living history; she is one who has lived in China, Korea, and America; she is one who has experienced Japanese colonization, American occupation, devastating civil war, and immigration to a foreign life; she is one who lived as a granddaughter, daughter, wife, daughter-in-law, mother, and woman in a patriarchal society; she is one who understands and deplores the value of aspirations forever intangible; she is one who still exudes a sad, but vibrant light as she continues to, with each step and breath, demonstrate the path of our history. Yet she drifts along, unnoticed, murmuring hidden words under her breath. Perhaps she, too, has forgotten that reality, the struggle, the gosaeng (hardship), the pain, the frustration, the laughter, and the joys. Nay, it all lives within her, perhaps dormant, but forever present and ever intertwined into her whole existence. In this way, our history surrounds us. Let us not allow it to lie dormant and unappreciated. Let us remember the gosaeng and joy which unites all our histories. We embark.