By Andrei Lankov
One night around 1890 there was a commotion in front of the main gates of the Ewha School, the only western-type educational institution then admitting women. A lady in expensive traditional attire stood at the gates, accompanied by a servant with a lantern. She demanded to talk to the school principal. She said: "Open the light of knowledge before us!" The lady came to demand entry to the Ewha School. She had done so few times before, and every time was declined: not because of some academic obstacle, but because she was married.
The name of this lady was Ha Nan-sa - or rather this is the name by which she is now remembered. She was born Miss Kim in Pyongyang in 1875, and it is believed that she was the daughter of a local kisaeng (courtesan). As was customary for women of the era, she had no official name whatsoever. Had she gone into her mother's trade, she would probably choose some name for herself, most likely something poetic but with some hint of eroticism, like "spring wind" or "azalea blossom". But she did not become a courtesan (or, at least, did not stay in the profession for very long).
The kisaengs could sometimes be objects of fascination, but they also were much despised by mainstream public opinion, and such an origin almost precluded any kind of social advancement. Ha Nan-sa was lucky to be taken as a concubine (or, according to some other reports, as a second wife) by Ha Sang-ki, a powerful official who at that time was a magistrate in Incheon. Perhaps, her looks helped a lot: the photos show that even in older age Ha Nan-sa was a stunning beauty. Actually, it was as high as a girl of such humble origin would get in the Korean society of those days. She could be content, but she was not. She wanted more, and not in terms of power or money, but in term of education.
After marriage to Ha Sang-gi, Ha Nan-sa acquired the name which history remembers her by. The early Korean feminists usually discarded their maiden name and preferred to be called by the surname of their husbands, contrary to what was (and still is) normal in Korea.
Ha Nan-sa's husband played a major role in what happened later. Korean males of the old days are often stereotyped as chauvinistic and selfish, men who might regard their wife as something akin to a pet: a loveable creature perhaps, but definitely much inferior and not especially intelligent. Like most stereotypes, this one is not unfounded, but like many others it also has a lot of exceptions. Ha Nan-sa's husband happened to be one of the exceptions. He did not see his wife as merely a plaything, or even as only a mother of their children. Ha Sang-gi was happy that his wife wanted to study modern things, and was willing to go to great lengths to help her. It was unusual, of course, but by no means unique: one should recall, for example, the example of Esther Pak, the first Korean woman to receive a MD from an American school. Her achievements would have been impossible without her husband who worked hard to help her with tuition costs.
In the case of Ha Nan-sa, money was not a problem: the family was rich. Still, she could not be accepted into a modern school, since rules excluded married women from admission. Thus, the above-mentioned episode at the front gates of Ewha took place.
Such persistence helped. Ha Nan-sa was finally accepted into the school and in due time graduated with distinction. In the meantime, she gave birth to a daughter, but even that did not stop her studies. Then Ha Nan-sa made even more unusual decision: she decided to study overseas! In 1896 the 21 year-old woman, a gentry's concubine and young mother, boarded a ship and went to the US.
Ha Nan-sa returned to Korea in 1900, with a degree from the Ohio Wesleyan University, the first Korean woman to earn a BA from a Western school. She majored in English literature, and indeed English language education was what she dedicated her entire life to. In a delightful turn of events she was appointed a lecturer at the Ewha School, and also became a master at the school's boarding house, an admirable figure, strict but just and very popular with the students. An able and efficient administrator, Ha Nan-sa also held a number of administrative positions in the field of school management. She frequently visited the US, giving talks about the situation in Korea, and raising funds for modern education and, especially, girls' education.
From the mid-1910s, Ha Nan-sa was increasingly involved in independence politics. She used her American contacts to attract attention to the plight of Korea, and from around 1915 she was a major personality in the clandestine network of the independence activists whose efforts eventually culminated in the March 1 Movement. However, she did not live long enough to see how all of Korea erupted in protest against colonial rule.
In mid-February 1919, while on one of her numerous overseas trips, Ha Nan-sa stayed in Beijing. After a banquet hosted by the local Korean community leaders, she felt sick and had to be moved to hospital, but it was too late. She died of food poisoning.
The suspicious death of a major independence activist was bound to be explained as a result of a Japanese plot. This might indeed have been an assassination, even though no document confirming this has surfaced so far. Still, in March 1919, Korea was in the midst of uprising, and the next generation of educated women was to play a major role in this great movement. But that is another story...
Prof. Andrei Lankov was born in St.Petersburg, Russia, and now teaches at Kookmin University in Seoul.
