Paralympic reflections, 1988 to 2018

The opening ceremony of the 2018 Paralympic Games are held in PyeongChang Olympic Stadium in Gangwon Province. / Photo by Miliann Kang

By Miliann Kang

Miliann Kang

The PyeongChang Paralympics can be regarded as a huge success. But the greatest measure of success would be greater awareness and sustained efforts to improve the quality of life for all people with disabilities.

Thirty years ago, I attended the Summer Paralympics in Seoul, and earlier this month, I attended the Winter Paralympics in PyeongChang. Much has changed in three decades, but much more has yet to change.

In 1988, I was visiting Korea to study Korean and learn about the country from which my parents had emigrated. The year before ― 1987 ― was historic, as millions had taken to the streets demanding democratic presidential elections.

The women's movement was burgeoning. Relations with North Korea were tense. The country was buzzing with change, and hosting the Olympics was a prominent symbol of this change.

The Paralympics attracted far less attention. I remember emerging from Jamsil Station into Olympic Plaza, literally in the middle of nowhere. (That nowhere is now the bustling area of Gangnam.)

I attended with a large church group. Someone may have had tickets, but it seemed like we just wandered into the nearly empty stadium and picked any seats. The track-and-field events were almost an afterthought, as we focused instead on passing around hardboiled eggs, sliced persimmons and bottles of Coca-Cola.

Then a disturbing scene caught my eye. A group of men were smoking and laughing, as one of them mimicked the athletes using exaggerated jerky motions. I was horrified. (I would have been even more horrified if I had known a future U.S. president would engage in similar actions, mocking a reporter with a congenital joint condition.) Looking back, I am most horrified that I did nothing.

I am sure there were many moments where the Korean and international audience viewed the athletes and events with enthusiasm and respect, but this was not one of them. The Paralympians deserved better than this, from all of us.

Fast forward to March 9, 2018. I am in Seoul for one year as a Fulbright senior scholar at Ewha Womans University researching family issues in South Korea, including families raising children with disabilities.

Last year was momentous, as millions took to the streets to impeach the president. The #MeToo movement is rising. Relations with North Korea are still tense, but lessening, thanks to breakthroughs related to the Olympics.

I arrived in PyeongChang early in the day for the Paralympics Opening Ceremony, accompanied by two foreign colleagues. We felt as if we were traveling alongside the many families with children with disabilities on their way to the events.

We were welcomed by life-size versions of Bandabi, the cuddly black bear Paralympic mascot, and Soohorang, the white tiger mascot for the Olympics, along with dozens of eager volunteers in bright red Olympic uniforms.

These Winter Paralympics broke records for the highest attendance of any so far, and most events were nearly sold out. The opening ceremony was dazzling, showcasing the accomplishments of the athletes and artistry of the performers, including amputee drummer Shin Myeong-jin and visually impaired singer Lee So-jeong.

The lighting of the Paralympic torch was one of the most dramatic moments. Sledge hockey captain Han Min-su, the torch attached to his back, pulled himself up the stairs with a rope, then handed it off to Olympic and Paralympic curlers Kim Eun-jung and Seo Soon-seok who set the flame ablaze.

The night was cold and we received blankets, hats and hand warmers with Paralympic logos as gifts. One mother held her young son up close to an electric heater, and the boy, who appeared to have Down syndrome, basked in the warmth.

Prior to the opening ceremony, we visited a local restaurant where we sat next to a Canadian family whose son was playing on the Canadian Paralympic hockey team. I offered some tips on how to get to the hockey stadium, almost an hour away in Gangneung.

The mother commented, "You seem to know your way around," and I answered, "I was here a few weeks ago for the regular Olympics." There was an awkward pause.

This time, I knew I needed to say something, so I apologized. "I'm sorry, I misspoke when I referred to the earlier events as the regular Olympics."

The mother looked surprised, then appreciative. "That's okay. I wasn't sure what to call them either ― the original Olympics?" She laughed, then added, "My son would understand. Just go cheer him on!"

In addition to the spectacular athletic and artistic events, the Paralympics foster simple interactions like these that increase accessibility for families with disabilities.

But what will be the long-term impact of South Korea hosting the Winter Paralympics?

South Korea has roughly 2.5 million people registered with disabilities, about 5 percent of the total population. Many are on waiting lists for limited services and facilities. They must rely heavily on family members, who often are unable or unwilling to provide necessary support.

One school district in western Seoul protested the establishment of a special education school fearing it would bring down real estate prices.

A special education teacher I interviewed commented, "Nowadays, parents are more open to talking about their children with disabilities and showing the children to others. But still they tend to interact within their network only. Many couples get divorced because of the children, and in those cases, mothers tend to be blamed more than fathers."

She described the family of one of her students. "They cannot travel freely because so many people look at their child and say, 'Why did you bring that child out? You should have stayed home.' I heard people in other countries don't give such strange looks to the families of children with special needs. But Korean people are less sensitive in terms of that. It really hurts those families."

In addition to greater sensitivity, various policy changes are needed. The South Korean government should change its system of classifying people solely based on a medical examination without considering environmental factors. Disability activists have been protesting this system for years as restrictive and demeaning.

The grading system was implemented in 1988. This would be a good year to end it.

The Paralympics have been inspirational, but even more, they can inspire progress toward full accessibility for people with disabilities, in Korea and worldwide.

Miliann Kang (miliannkang@gmail.com) is a Fulbright senior scholar at Ewha Womans University and associate professor of women, gender and sexuality studies at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst.