The ban is over and my blogging procrastination has gone beyond ridiculous. The heat wave is not even an excuse anymore. But that’s good, the constant film of sweat enveloping my entire body was getting to be a bit much.
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Drunk and in Itaewon last week, I was waiting for a taxi by the road. Hearing shrieking somewhere behind me, I turned to see a Korean guy attempting to yank an obviously distraught Korean girl up from the ground.
I started walking over, not entirely sure what I would do when I got there. Just as the Korean guy started screaming at me to get lost, two of Seoul’s finest pull up in a cruiser. The cops asked the guy what he was doing, he snapped something at them in Korean, and they turned their attention to evacuating me from the scene as quickly as possible.
Not only ignoring the manhandling of a woman in the street, the police were actually facilitating it by clearing out a foreigner who may or may not have had the balls to do something about it.
Full of resentment that, because I'm a wuss, further confrontation would likely lead to a sound beating followed by detainment, I slinked off into a taxi. On the ride home I text messaged more than a few friends with derogatory comments about the size of Korean male genitalia. Normal behaviour from someone who’s adjusted to the foreign culture he’s been immersed in for two years.
The next day, a calmed-down version of myself was relating the story to my Korean girlfriend, who, opposite to what I expected, put me on the defensive rather quickly. Before I knew it I was being accused of having a “Western superhero complex.”
One of the reasons I like my girlfriend is that she can say things to me that, coming from the mouth of others, would have my blood roiling. The above being a perfect example. It may have to do with her unusually rich command of the English language (seven years in England will do that), but more importantly, she just doesn’t take herself too seriously.
She told me how condescending it sounds to go on about Korean guys and how boorish they are. And therein lies the problem. It matters far less whether or not what I’m complaining about is true, than that it’s me who’s complaining about it. Koreans are sensitive enough about their own perceived faults. They bitterly resent it when whitey from Winnipeg angrily points it out to them.
But perhaps the most telling thing my girlfriend said is this: risking a pummelling by every Korean male in the vicinity to intervene on a man roughing up a woman in the street may not be all that worth it when you consider that in many cases, the woman probably doesn’t want your help anyways.
And yes, there are stories of foreigners trying to administer vigilante justice to on-the-street domestic disputes and ending up with the Korean woman trying to gorge them with her high heels.
I’m not suggesting that one should not intervene if a woman, man or anyone is getting knocked around in the street. But the way the whole thing bothered me so much is just another example of how the longer I stay here, the more frustrated I get with how so many Korean values are fundamentally opposite to my own. The value in this case being that what happens on the street, or anywhere, between a man and “his woman” is nobody else’s business. It’s a sign of weakness if you can’t keep your woman in line. And worse, it's a line Korean women for the most part remain willing to tow.
I don’t want to leave. I just wish there was some way I could just relax and avoid getting wound up so often. The clock on my long-term psychological health ticks onward.
