InterviewAmerican 'haenyeo' finds her place in Jeju's diving community

SEOGWIPO, Jeju Island — For American Kylie Genter, a day at the beach is no longer a day off for sunbathing and swimming.

Instead, it is a place where she prays for her safety before diving into the waters to gather abalone and shellfish for living. What others see as a holiday destination has become, to her, a workplace and a landscape of possibilities.

Since she began diving as a "haenyo" with fellow women divers in January 2024, the work has changed how she sees the sea.

Finding her place

Genter arrived in Korea as an English teacher in 2012. She moved to Jeju in 2016. While working as a tour guide, she received many questions about haenyeo and that prompted her to enroll in a diving school in 2018. She eventually took up the work after learning that Youngrak village was recruiting younger divers.

“When I first started, they didn’t really know my name,” she said during a recent interview with The Korea Times. The veterans would call her “Hey” or “American kid.”

Within that circle, Genter found her role as an extra pair of strong hands. Struggling at first to understand the local dialect, she decided to contribute through physical work.

Since her first day on the job, she arrived early to sweep the changing room, wash dishes and help carry the catches ashore, a practice called “mulmajung.” Relatives traditionally provided that assistance, she explained, but as their family members aged or moved away, divers increasingly did the work to help one another.

“You want to be careful because you don’t want to hurt their pride,” she said.

Their community is small enough for one person’s absence to change its mood. Eight haenyeo were working there when Genter joined; four retired earlier this year.

Each remaining veteran, or "samchun" in the Jeju dialect, brings something distinct.

Hong Bok-nyeo, 80, leads on shore and underwater, and recently brought in almost twice anyone else’s catch. Jwa Bok-hee, 70, helps bridge the generations, explaining the dialect and recalling a more abundant sea. Kim Won-ok, 79, knows how to tie equipment securely and repair torn diving suits.

When Jwa Young-ja, 88, practiced saying Genter’s name with the younger divers until she could say it easily, the gesture surprised and touched her.

Fellow diver Choi Jung-yoon said Genter sets an example for younger recruits, putting the veterans first and helping without pulling rank.

“She always takes the initiative and quietly helps,” Choi said.

As diving partners, they watch each other descend and resurface, checking whether older colleagues look tired or need help getting ashore.

Hong, who leads the group and has been diving for 63 years, described Genter and Choi as “first-rate haenyeo,” praising their skill and courtesy.

Lessons from summer camp

Genter’s preparation for the work began, unexpectedly, in rural upstate New York.

She spent her first four years living at the summer camp where her father worked. Childhood meant playing in the woods, taking swimming lessons and, later, lifeguarding.

Even making friendship bracelets proved useful, as preparing diving equipment requires knowing how to tie knots.

“So everything is from that summer camp,” she said, laughing.

Her father supported her decision to become a haenyeo. Her mother initially worried about the danger, but began proudly telling others about her daughter’s work after reading books and articles about the divers.

Her young nephews found another reason for excitement: After spotting an octopus at Costco, during a family call they asked her how to catch and cook one.

Diving into the future

For the next generation of haenyeo, continuing the tradition means earning enough to keep diving while adapting to a changing sea.

Away from the water, Genter runs a pet boarding business and gives talks about haenyeo. Choi performs and organizes stand-up comedy shows and secured a government grant for a village show that brought divers together to perform.

Their overlapping commitments help them continue diving, but demand a delicate balance.

“You need to have other jobs to make money, but it can’t be something that takes up too much time that you can’t dive or can’t be available,” Genter said.

That effort makes portrayals of haenyeo as a disappearing figure particularly frustrating. To Genter, those accounts overlook younger women working multiple jobs to enter and remain in the profession.

“They have like two jobs, three jobs, four jobs,” she said. “They’re all working really hard to be able to achieve this goal.”

Hong’s concern is what will remain for them to harvest. The sea is profoundly different from the one she knew in her youth, she said. With the decline in vital marine species, she wonders how long newcomers can continue to dive and harvest.

Genter believes future divers will need to adjust to changing species, harvesting methods and rules while preserving resilience and caring for one another.

“Different things will come, and we will have to adapt to whatever new things are coming,” she said.

She hopes the sea will be different rather than empty — and that younger haenyeo will be recognized as people shaping the tradition, not simply inheriting its decline.

For Genter, that future rests on the collective life surrounding each dive: bathing together, eating together and looking out for one another. Her sense of kinship extends beyond Youngrak village to younger divers elsewhere that she follows online.

“If I see any haenyeo on Instagram, I automatically follow them. You are my sister, my comrade,” she said. “Every success that another haenyeo has is a success for all of us.”