Removal of Gloom; We Should Bloom By Dawn Oh

“Mom, why are you the only one working here?” 

It was an innocent question from a four-year-old child looking at her mother doing the dishes in her paternal grandparents' house. On national holidays like Seollal or Chuseok, all my family members come over to visit my grandparents. I remember most of us gathering around in the living room to catch up, but two women stayed in the kitchen all day long: my mother in my paternal grandparents’ house and my maternal uncle's wife in my maternal grandparents’ house. They have similarities. For each of them to call other family members in my paternal or maternal grandparents’ houses, the word “in-law” follows them; they are the women who become part of the family by marriage. I always wondered why no one helped them cook, serve food, and do the dishes. No one pointed out the problem of leaving two women in the kitchen alone. It took a few years for me to understand the system working behind the word “family.” Everything I saw was a typical life of women with their in-laws. 

Growing up to enter puberty, I got some chances to hear more stories about women’s lives. I must have heard some encouraging stories of women following their dreams, but what caught my attention was the other side: women forced to let go of their careers after marriage for parenting. I started to form a gloomy view of my future because I had a real-life woman standing right next to me who was out of my “success” range. My Mom. My definition of success at that time was to be independent, not rely on others to live one’s life. It was such inexcusable rudeness of a daughter to consider her mother a failure, but I could not understand her. It might have been because I was in puberty, thinking of myself and my future all day long. Not thinking about how my mother loved me and chose family instead of her dreams, I focused only on the fact that she gave up her own life from being independent. To do the dishes for her in-laws… was that the life she dreamed of? 

Now I understand my mother and her choices, but some gloomy views of my future remain in my mind. I am afraid of the chances of my effort ending to meet a “better” successful man. The force and barrier of the glass ceiling we observe might seem to have originated from a capitalistic society for higher efficiency, but some are from the family. Stereotypes within the family of women working in the kitchen and men working outside to earn money remain: in-laws forcing women to have children and support their husbands. The word “Sijipsari,” which specifically refers to women’s married life with their in-laws, shows the realities in Korean families. That word explains a system working behind the word “family,” my observation as a four-year-old child. 

It could be considered a natural phenomenon of brain aging to reinforce the stereotype. The older generation might have experienced even harsh Sijipsari, which forced them to think of women's lives in the kitchen as normal. The proverb, “From pure spring pure water flows,” is well known in Korean society. Although the spring is contaminated with the stereotype, as soon as the water notices the problem, that generation should make efforts for the next generation, for the next pure water to flow. Fighting against the stereotype from the older generation, we should teach the younger generation that the Sijipsari of women – a hidden force acting only on women to work for their in-laws – would never be considered a normal life as women. The women’s gloomy view of their future hidden inside their minds should be removed. We should bloom, chasing our dreams.