PSY, JLC, FOB, and the Transmission of Culture

"Oh. My. GOD!" complains the exchange student played by Kim Sungwon as the audience erupts in laughter. "I don't understand about Korean culture!"

Questionable English grammar aside, this Western student's frustration is very relatable. In the popular sketch "School of Mental Breakdown" (멘붕스쿨) on the Korean comedy show Gag Concert, a brief and hilarious few minutes are spent trying to look at Korea through the eyes of a foreigner. (Well, not in the episode shown above; that one's about American superhero movies, but it's the only one I could find on YouTube.) This school is obviously the parody of parodies, but we can laugh at some of the stereotyped portrayals of one slice of Korean culture, its education system.

This does raise some questions about perspective, however. "School of Mental Breakdown" aired last year, but the memory of Kim Sungwon's outbursts came to me as I chatted with my English co-teachers over cheese and crackers at our semiweekly book club. We're reading Amy Tan's seminal The Joy Luck Club, and the bulk of each period is spent discussing that amorphous thing known as "culture". As I am Taiwanese-American, they were interested in whether the issues of cultural assimilation, immigration, and language that are so central to the stories of the four Chinese families were the same as those that my family and I have faced.

Certainly, there are a few similarities. The language barrier that rises between generations after a geographical shift is one of the big ones. There are smaller tidbits that I cheerfully identified with, too, like the story of steaming live crabs or the childhood hours spent banging away fruitlessly at the piano.

But I had to admit the other day that a lot of the cultural symbols are just as mysterious to me as they would be to your average Western (and non-Chinese) reader of The Joy Luck Club. I am totally unfamiliar with the folklore and mythology so often referenced in the stories; I don't know which of the five elements I was born lacking, and I have never heard of Xi Wangmu. My comfortably middle-class family has never lived anywhere near a Chinatown. And perhaps the biggest difference is that my parents immigrated to the US in the 80s from Taiwan in order to seek higher education, not from China in the 40s in order to escape war.

But then I realized that The Joy Luck Club, which for decades has stayed on high school reading lists as one of a few representative books about Asian-American minority culture, has probably influenced hundreds of thousands of people toward a certain idea of what it means to be a Chinese-American or part of an East Asian immigrant family. And while that idea, within the pages of the book, is at least not contrived or too narrowly delineated, it is also -- dare I say it -- outdated.

I mean, Asian America looks much different now, in 2014, than it did when The Joy Luck Club was published in 1989, let alone in the 1950s when the memorable just-immigrated stories and childhood stories take place. But what does every high school sophomore who reads these stories today come away thinking? If they're not Asian, they now think they understand Asians. If they are Asian, they try to match up their own lives and experiences to the lives and experiences of the protagonists, to varying degrees of success. In neither case is the media self-contained; that is, it will always inevitably be extrapolated onto others (and onto the Other). Comparisons will be drawn. Judgments will be made. Conclusions will be jumped to across the wide chasm of sixty years of change.

Now how does this come back to Gag Concert and Korean culture? Well, before your average Westerner steps foot in Korea for the first time, they may not necessarily know anything about the country. Surely they've heard of kimchi and PSY, and maybe they're aware enough to know that Samsung, taekwondo, and Kim Yuna are Korean and not Japanese. But when we arrive, there's more than enough in this culture to shock us into thinking, "Oh my God, I just don't get it!"

Thus, Korea has made great efforts in recent years to export not just electronics and cars, but also its own culture. Hence the Hallyu Wave, which has globalized Korean music, TV, and celebrity culture, and the breakneck speed at which Seoul has been metamorphosing into an international metropolis. Korea is flinging its influence in every direction while also urging everyone to come in. But not everything sticks, and not everyone stays.

I want to look at the odd things that do stay in the minds of non-Koreans about Korea. Everyone is still kind of at a loss to explain why PSY's "Gangnam Style" was such a global hit -- it now has over two billion YouTube views -- but, well, here he is. Intentional or not, his cultural influence is powerful and not likely to go away soon. Korea wanted the world to love K-pop and gave them BoA, Rain, Big Bang, and Girls' Generation. The world chose PSY.

The American-educated, somewhat goofball rapper, whose past three music videos have poked fun at various aspects of his home country, certainly has something to say. His most recent video, "Hangover", which satirizes Korean drinking culture, has racked up nearly 70 million views in one week. It is impossible to ignore the fact that PSY's entertainment output is influencing the way the world views Korea. I watched and commented on "Hangover" when it was first released, noting at the end of my post that a viewer should certainly not assume that all Koreans drink from sunrise to sunset and get into street brawls. Yet they do drink a lot! There's enough truth in the parody that before you know it, tourists in Seoul are going to attempt to imitate the dozen different ways to down shots of soju as portrayed in the video and ask their Korean friends why they aren't doing the same.

What I am trying to get at here is that Korean culture can never be fully understood just by watching a few videos, listening to a few podcasts, or studying a few books, but the bits and pieces of it that go viral will become representative of it, for better or for worse. Some would argue that PSY's music is not bad inasmuch as it opens doors for people to get better acquainted with Korea, or at least K-pop, once they are first exposed to his earworms. Whatever it takes, right? On the other hand, it's equally likely that viewers will watch "Hangover" and content themselves with the assumption that Korea is a bizarre land of drunken wtf-ery. I mean, this is the country that produced PSY, after all.

To the confused exchange student at the School of Mental Breakdown: OMG! If you want to understand Korean culture... don't watch K-pop videos.

At least, don't just watch K-pop videos. Without a doubt, "Hangover" does provide the casual viewer with visuals and symbols of Korea, like karaoke rooms and cup noodles; it's not a completely vapid party anthem after all. But my point still stands: we cannot necessarily choose the things that represent our culture to outsiders, especially in this day and age when instant fame and influence on the Internet can fall into the lap of literally anyone. Pop culture entertainment may not be the ideal way to raise awareness about you and your community, but it tends to be the most successful or accessible conduit for those who aren't already commanding the stage on a global or national level.

Hm, where am I going with this now? Eh, here are some conclusions. The Joy Luck Club did a wonderful job of representing Chinese immigrants to the US. But it does not represent them all. PSY does a good job of bringing Korean culture to global consciousness. But he does not represent it all.

I hope that we can all be more aware of how media and entertainment (which includes books and novels) shapes our worldviews and influences our perception of anything unfamiliar, whether we like it or not.

Okay, now watch this:

This is a first look trailer for a new ABC series coming this fall called Fresh off the Boat. It's about a Taiwanese-American family trying to adjust to life in Orlando in the nineties. What do you think? From what I saw so far, it's funny, it has a talented cast, and it captures some great moments familiar to me as a Taiwanese-American kid who grew up in the nineties. Already, the very concept is causing a stir, because 1) Asians in media! and 2) that title...

Yes, there will be controversy. Like I've been saying, as scenes and storylines from this new show undoubtedly raise a lot of questions about issues of race, people will start to compare every Asian they know, including themselves, to the high-profile (fictional) Asian family they can now watch on TV every week.

I know that I'll be enthusiastically watching FOB, even if it turns out to be awful, because I'm really excited about having a sitcom family that is so representative of me and my culture. At the same time, I'm not going to stand for anyone who even thinks they can reduce me -- or my family -- to a set of stereotypes derived from a TV show. Remember: "...but not all."

Black Hair, Brown Eyes

Two Koreal Life things today: I got my hair cut and I had to call the landlord about a leaking faucet. I'd like to think that these two opportunities to use my broken Korean in real-life situations makes up for the fact that, otherwise, I did absolutely nothing productive today.

First, the haircut. I'd been tempted for a while to "be frivolous", as a friend put it, and do something more off-the-wall with my hair. It seems that everywhere you look in Seoul, especially in Hongdae, people have their hair dyed, permed, and styled in crazy fashions, men and women alike. Many of my American friends have gone the same route and splurged on a new hairstyle.

On the other hand, I've got a bit of a complex when it comes to changing my hair, especially with regard to color. Yes, in college, I did bleach and dye my hair; it was a fantastic shade of maroon for several months. But ever since my hair returned to its normal black, I haven't thought about going back. I think a part of it has to do with being in Korea. I feel like I don't want to change my hairstyle these days because everyone does it, and maybe the way to be unique -- as an Asian -- here in Korea is to remain completely normal. Also, and this is more important, I can't shake the thought that the bleaching and perming that has become so ubiquitous has its roots in the culturally ingrained notion that Western faces and heads are more beautiful than natural Korean looks. Am I about to get very controversial? Sure.

In Korea, "white" is beautiful. A pale complexion is prized and many women go out of their way to prevent a tan. It doesn't surprise me that there is a prejudice toward a certain skin color, since this kind of look-ism exists in all cultures in different forms. But it's not just skin. The most beautiful Korean woman is not only pale, but also tall and skinny, and has large eyes and wavy brown hair. Look around at all the advertisements and posters featuring any of Korea's hundreds of music and TV personalities: the majority of them have faces and hair all perfectly sculpted to appear distinctly un-Asian.

Honestly, when I say that "white" is beautiful in Korea, I fully acknowledge the ambiguity of that statement: white is not just a skin color but also a race. And it seems to me that the beauty standards in Korea are greatly influenced by those of white-majority countries such as the US. Do Koreans explicitly want to look like white Americans? No, of course not. But American culture has such an undeniably strong presence in Korea that it's easy to see how our standards have rubbed off on theirs.

I wonder every day now, when I see beautiful Koreans walking down the street with unnatural hair, "What's wrong with straight and black?"

So there's my complex. I want to dye my hair because I think it would look cool and because it does seem like the kind of "when in Rome" thing to do while I have the opportunity. But I can't help but question: why would it look cool? Why do I want to do what all young Koreans do? Does changing my hair play into a kind of pervasive insecurity that Asians have over the way they look naturally? Does it reinforce the power of the US's (cross-)cultural hegemony?

Furthermore, I've thought about the message I send to my Korean students with my appearance. Perhaps they were surprised last September when the American English teacher they'd heard they were going to get turned out to be Asian (the assumption being, of course, that all Americans are white). But even after the novelty of an Asian-American English teacher wore off, I think I still managed to have an indirect influence on them. My co-teacher told me flat-out that, from what she could observe, my students felt more comfortable around me because I physically resembled them. That, in addition to my weird insistence on eating lunch with them and talking to them in between classes -- something the white Canadian English teacher who preceded me never did -- puts me more in the position of friend and possible role model than of aloof, classroom authority figure.

Thus, when I think about the complexities surrounding my identities as Asian and American and my role as a teacher, I realize that what I choose to do with my face, hair, and clothes says a lot to my students, maybe more than I've noticed or have cared to think. I don't have to just tell my students that they are already beautiful people no matter how they look, I can show them how to have black hair and rock it. It's similar to how, rather than simply tell my students that exercise is important, I can also run into them while working out at the school gym and show them how to do it. For my students' sake, perhaps it's better to represent the natural me and not give in to whatever the Mainstream Monster dictates is cool or beautiful.

Okay, I'll stop there. Let me just add that vanity is not even the issue here, although it is my decided lack of vanity -- plus lack of disposable income -- that persuaded me eventually to get a simple ($15) haircut instead of a ($100) perm-and-dye job today at a hip salon just a few minutes down the street called Ekihair.

Speaking of Tina Cohen-Chang... (from Glee Wikia)

Oh, yes, and the part of this story that is Koreal Life is the fact that I called ahead to place my appointment and chatted briefly with my hairdresser in what little Korean I know, and although I didn't understand every word, I managed to get my point across. For example, while listening absent-mindedly to the music playing in the salon, I realized so my shock that it was not PSY's original Gangnam Style being aired, but the Glee cover instead. I tried to explain this to my hairdresser, who had assumed that it was Hyun-a. (I thought: can't she tell that Jenna Ushkowitz's singing has an unmistakable American accent?) Eventually, I whipped out my phone to show her the video of Glee's performance of Gangnam Style and pointed out Tina, saying that she was an 입양한인 (Korean person adopted abroad).

In the end, although my hair turned out looking very average and not K-pop-star-awesome, I appreciated the chance to practice speaking Korean and use vocabulary and grammar that I've learned recently.

Second, the leaky faucet. I realized as soon as I called the landlord that I didn't know how to say "The faucet is leaking" in Korean, so I quickly looked it up. (싱크대 수도꼭지가 조금 물 새하고 있어요.) As I type this, he is in the kitchen fixing it up. I'm proud to say that all of our interactions have gone smoothly, despite them being in Korean. I think back to seven months ago, when I first arrived in Korea, and I realize that I wouldn't even have had the guts to call a landlord then, let alone the language skills to explain my problems, and do it politely on top of that. But now, I can. Hurrah!