New book explores Korean Chinese migrants' lives
June Hee Kwon signs a copy of her book, “Borderland Dreams: The Transnational Lives of Korean Chinese Workers,” after a book talk at downtown Seoul's Eulji Space, Dec. 16. Courtesy of Bereket Alemayehu
June Hee Kwon, a Korean scholar teaching cultural anthropology at California State University Sacramento, gave a talk on Dec. 16 at downtown Seoul's Eulji Space on her new book, titled “Borderland Dreams: The Transnational Lives of Korean Chinese Workers,” published in English by Duke University Press in November.
Afterward, she talked with The Korea Times about the findings published in her book and why she was inspired to explore the topic of Korean Chinese migrants who came to South Korea from Yanbian Korean Autonomous Prefecture in the eastern part of China's Jilin Province.
Times: What inspired you to write your first book in English?
Kwon: After I completed my higher education in the U.S., I wrote my academic works in English for my academic career and spoke to a wider audience. But I, as a native Korean speaker engaged with social issues, am writing things in the Korean language too. I am planning to translate this book into Korean to be widely read by Korean speakers across the world.
The cover of June Hee Kwon's book, “Borderland Dreams: The Transnational Lives of Korean Chinese Workers” / Courtesy of Duke University Press
Times: What was the motivation to explore the path of the "Korean dream" and the migration of Korean Chinese workers to South Korea?
Kwon: When I came back from the U.S. to South Korea after finishing my first year of graduate study in the U.S. in 2004, I came to meet many Korean Chinese undocumented workers in a church located in Seoul. They had just finished a three-month-long demonstration to insist on changing the Overseas Korean Act that excluded Korean Chinese. The church and I collaborated to collect the stories of the undocumented Korean Chinese to better understand their lives and to make apt policy suggestions to the government.
After those who I met in the church got an amnesty granted in 2005, I came to follow their travel routes to learn about the transnational lives that have transformed South Korea as well as China.
Times: Can you please summarize the main findings?
Kwon: I have numerous findings — too many to list perhaps (laugh). The main findings are threefold.
First, I learned how Korean Chinese bodies are ethnicized in particular ways — in the law, social narratives, cultural texts and political dimensions. That means, Korean Chinese are Korean, not quite; Korean Chinese are Chinese, not quite. The unique gap created by “Korean Chineseness” is the reason that Korean Chinese have been welcomed as well as unwelcomed in China and South Korea. At the same time, the unique gap has enabled Korean Chinese to be susceptible to transnational mobility.
Second, I discovered the powerful but unstable flow of transnational money (remittances) appearing in a nationalized form, such as Korean money, Japanese money or U.S. money. The money flow has been interrupted and expedited by many different forces. Here, waiting is one of the powerful forces that generate the flow of remittances. As one of the interviewees said “Where love is, money goes,” remittances can be transferred through intimate connections mainly for family support. Waiting not as an inactive state, but as an affective labor is a critical pole that allows to perpetuate the flow of money and sustain intimate lives.
Third, I found the emergence of transnational time practices. The visa regulation — how long migrants could stay and how frequently they could visit South Korea — would be a determining force that would make Korean Chinese migrants move and get stuck in China and South Korea. We can see the emerging split time practice — Yanbian time and Korean time while Korean Chinese migrants are moving back and forth in tandem with visa regulations. Moreover, the body clock matters in deciding how long and intensively the transnational workers could endure transnational work life.
I found the intersection between ethnicized bodies, transnational money and transnational time has generated the pace and passion for the Korean dream that has haunted the Korean Chinese community for the last three decades — in post-socialist China and post-cold war neoliberal South Korea.
Times: How do the experiences of Korean Chinese migrant workers illustrate the transformation into a transnational ethnicized class, and what are some key aspects of this transformation?
Kwon: The next generation of Korean Chinese (whose parents have worked in South Korea) has diversified their dreams by pushing the boundary of “the Korean dream” — by expanding their career choices as well as destinations that they want to migrate to. South Korea is not the only place Korean Chinese aspire to work in. Manual labor is not the only kind they would like to engage. Yet, the perceptional changes in Korean Chinese migrants seem (both in China and South Korea) to be unable to catch up with the rapid generational life changes occurring among Korean Chinese across the world.
Times: Your work explores “…the tensions and affinities among Korean Chinese, North and South Koreans, and Han Chinese whose lives intertwine in the borderland.” How do these intersecting identities shape the experiences and aspirations of individuals living in the borderland?
Kwon: One of the interesting points in the Yanbian Korean dream is that transnational migration has pushed another level (or kind) of migration — trans-town, trans-cities, trans-region or another transnational migration. The Korean dream has affected not only Korean Chinese but also Han Chinese, North Koreans and South Koreans. Han Chinese have flocked to Yanbian in pursuit of development boom opportunities. North Koreans have moved up to work in the North Korean restaurants in Yanbian under strict contracts. South Koreans have moved to Yanbian seeking the borderland dream for children’s education or missionary projects. Yanbian is not an isolated or parochial borderland as Yanbian people usually say. The borderland is a complex intersection where many people, money and dreams come across.
June Hee Kwon holds a copy of her book, “Borderland Dreams: The Transnational Lives of Korean Chinese Workers,” after a book talk at downtown Seoul's Eulji Space, Dec. 16. Courtesy of Bereket Alemayehu
Times: Based on your findings, do you see any implications for policy or societal understanding, especially regarding the broader issues of migration, identity and the dreams of marginalized communities?
Kwon: Great question. While I was writing the book, it came to be obvious to me that South Korea has prepared only for short-term migrations looking at migrants as “source of labor” or “short-term residents.” Yes, they would be workers or potential economic contributors to South Korea. Yes, they could make up for the labor shortage and population decline that South Korea has been struggling with.
At the same time, the whole society has not been fully prepared to have them live in a longer term — generation after generation. Family migration is still not easy. Education for migrant children is still struggling. The unwillingness to learn about migrants’ lives is easily seen.
Migration policy should take the long-term-generation settlement and long-term migrants with pending legal status into serious consideration — instead of simply separating the legal from the illegal, the accepted from the deported, the deserving from the undeserving from the instrumental gaze.
Times: How can local/international readers get copies of your book?
Kwon: You can order the book from the Duke Press website and Amazon (along with many other online bookstores).
Bereket Alemayehu is an Ethiopian photo artist, social activist and writer based in Seoul. He's also co-founder of Hanokers, a refugee-led social initiative, and freelance contributor for Pressenza Press Agency.