The pressures on Korean women can take the joy out of marriage, writes Andrew Farrell
It was some time back in 2010 when I penned my first article for Metro Éireann on the surreal experience of attending a Korean wedding. Thanks to my friend’s union with her husband in early February, I’m able to revisit the topic – but from a slightly different standpoint.
Firstly, a note on the wedding hall in Suwon City. Modelled to resemble a nighttime outdoor wedding in Italy, with its mock Renaissance-style architecture, the hall was lit up by purple and blue fluorescent lights with hundreds of fake stars on the roof. In reality, it looked more like a poor imitation of the Venetian Casino in Macao. Perhaps only in South Korea could a such a fusion of Disneyland and Las Vegas pass off as a wedding hall.
But I digress. The intervening two years have taught me a lot about Korean culture and the pressures on women, especially to get married before they hit a certain age (30 being the golden number). The bride on this occasion was about to embark on a new journey with as much uncertainty as a 16th-century explorer. She is one of the countless numbers of women effectively pushed into marriage by an often superficial society.
In late 2011 my friend announced her intention to marry her boyfriend of eight months with minimal fanfare and even less enthusiasm. She acknowledged loving her fiancé, and conceded the wedding would probably have happened anyway, but there was a slightly more sinister reason for accepting his hand in marriage so early in the relationship.
At the age of 34 – it’s unheard of to still be single in South Korea at that age – she simply grew tired of the questions and badgering at social occasions from birthdays to anniversaries. Even mundane staff parties felt more like an inquisition than a friendly gathering. ‘When will you get married? You have to get married! You’re getting old! It’ll be too late to have children if you wait!’
The turning point, she believes, was when former colleagues referred to her as ‘nocheonyeo’, or ‘spinster’.
So with a deep sigh and glance up at the clouds, she admitted she had accepted her boyfriend’s marriage proposal, despite being thoroughly underwhelmed by the effort he put in. For her, she was simply thankful that the cross-examination was over.
It’s all part and parcel of life for women in South Korea. I previously worked with a woman who, at the defining age of 30 in July 2009, had ended a 10-year relationship with her then boyfriend.
Later that month, she went on a blind date set up by her mother (a practice that’s not uncommon) with a man who proposed to her that night. She accepted, and in February 2010 delighted the kindergarten with news of her pregnancy.
By the end of spring she was a married woman, just in time for her 31st birthday.
Andrew Farrell works as an English language teacher in Korea.
