By Jason Lim
Recently, Sung Si-kyung, the velvet-voiced crooner of K-pop ballads, made a splash when he said that the government had no business in officially barring the former K-pop dance sensation, Yoo Seung-joon, from entering the country.
He went on to say that the emotional disgust that Koreans collectively feel against Yoo should be separate from any legal action that the government has taken against him.
In a sense, Sung is wrong in his assessment. The Ministry of Justice, in light of Yoo's calculated duplicity, had solid legal grounds in barring Yoo's entry into Korea in 2002.
The ministry based its decision on the reasoning that rewarding Yoo by allowing him back into Korea to work as a well-known and highly-paid entertainer would undermine military morale and detract from the seriousness of mandatory military service. This is all in line with Korea's laws and fully defensible.
In another sense, however, Sung is absolutely accurate in suggesting that a certain irrational element has so colored Yoo's case that it bars any sensible public discussion on the topic, as evidenced by the overwhelming frenzy that Sung's comments generated among the public.
Keep in mind that this is more than five years since Yoo was barred from entering Korea.
Part of the ongoing public debate about Yoo's case that particularly disturbs me is the way that the Korean public totally disowned Yoo as a ``foreigner'' after he committed his admittedly shameless actions.
Although Yoo was entirely a ``Made in Korea'' creature, having attained his fame, fortune, and celebrity-status in Korea, Yoo Seung-joon was suddenly Steve Yoo because he was became a naturalized citizen of the United States.
Steve Yoo was now entirely an American creature, forcibly evicted from his Korean roots by a public hungry to exact retribution for what they saw as Yoo's betrayal of his Korean obligations. In a very real sense, Steve Yoo was no longer allowed to be Yoo Seung-joon.
Yoo's case by itself would not be so disturbing if it didn't point to a certain predisposition within Korean society that seeks to force a Korean American to choose between his ``Korean-ness'' and ``American-ness'' based simply on legal citizenship.
However, ``Korean American-ness'' is far more complex than having a green or blue passport. Discovering an identity as a Korean American ― especially for the 1.5 and 2nd generations ― is a personal journey that organically combines often confusing elements of ethnic affinity as a Korean, loyalty to the American way of life, and personal values derived from one's unique environment.
Eventually we all find a happy medium. Being a good American does not in any sense preclude a Korean American from partaking fully in the Korean experience or being genuine in one's pride as a Korean. However, there is a tendency in Korean society to force a Korean American to choose sides.
For example, I still remember how quickly the public mood turned against Kim Cho-rong when she was photographed several years ago cheering for the U.S. side in the Solheim Cup.
Before the photographs, she was the new golf darling of the Korean public. But afterwards, she was now no longer Kim Cho-rong but only Christina Kim. She had been disowned for showing loyalty to another country. But is Christina Kim somehow less Korean than Kim Cho-rong because she cheered for her American teammates in a golf tournament?
Annabel Park was the national coordinator for the passage of the comfort women resolution in July and widely celebrated for being a good Korean. She was recently featured in the Washington Post for her new project in facilitating public debate by creating a documentary on the highly-charged illegal immigration issue in Northern Virginia.
Since illegal immigration is not as acutely relevant to Korea, does this mean that Annabel is less of a good Korean than she used to be when she was working on the comfort women issue?
Along the same lines, is Michelle Wie less of a Korean than Wie Sung-mi? Is Kim Yun-jin more Korean than American because she uses her Korean name? What about Sandra Oh? How do you judge this? And who has the right to judge?
I am not defending someone like Yoo who cynically used his American-ness to avoid his obligation as a Korean. At the same time, my point is that the Korean society should not punish a Korean American for being an American by cutting him or her off from an opportunity to fully contribute as a Korean.
Korean Americans are only wholly empowered when they are allowed to be both Korean and American. In short, Korean American should not be forced to become an oxymoron.
Jason Lim is a research fellow at the Harvard Korea Institute, researching Asian leadership models. He can be reached at jasonlim@post.harvard.edu.